Spirituality and Adventure

On first thought, you might not think that monasticism has anything in common with adventure; after all, on one hand it’s guys in robes chanting and on the other it’s navigating uncharted rivers and the like. Nonetheless, I have noticed many parallels, here are a few.

1.) THE SIMPLE LIFE

 Life on the road or in the back country is simple. One does not have a full schedule, countless social obligations, or distracting luxuries and technologies. The food is also simple: one learns to live off oatmeal and noodles, cherishing the occasional treats. It is very freeing and puts things into perspective.

Like travelers and adventurers, Monks are known for their simple ways of life. They don’t really have iPhones, gourmet food, designer products, cars, big houses, or crazy schedules. They often sleep on uncomfortable beds in small rooms, eat simple food, and spend much time in silence and contemplation. This leads away from a sense of entitlement, instead of demanding the daily mocha, a monk will cherish the smallest luxury with detachment. This also helps keep them aware and conscious: instead of rushing about with a constant stream of erratic thoughts and overpowering stimuli, the monk has a simple awareness and a perpetual consciousness of God. The straw bed in the dim cell of a monk is not too different from the sleeping pad in the tent of a backpacker.

2.) SELF-DISCIPLINE

Friedrich Nietzsche believed the morality and spiritual disciplines of Christianity were born of what he termed “negative will to power”. For Nietzsche, the need to exert power was the primary human drive. He thought that Christianity was the religion of people who could not or would not exert power in the traditional sense, so they denied themselves pleasures and underwent hardship to exercise their will to power. Now, I disagree with Nietzsche that the basis of spiritual discipline and morality is will to power; I believe that it is living our lives how God meant us to live them (in harmony with Him, each other, and creation) but he is on to something. We all want to be great, successful, and competent; in other words, will to power is a major human drive (just not the primary one in my opinion). Will to power is therefore present in any arena of human activity: fasting, backpacking, weight lifting, prayer, overcoming temptation, rock climbing, etc.

The exertion of the mystic may be inward or existential exertion, but it is exertion nonetheless. It is interesting to note that monks and spiritual warriors have traditionally been referred to as athletes. This connection is also made by St. Paul in the Bible “Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win. Everyone who competes in the games exercises self-control in all things. They then do it to receive a perishable trophy, but we an imperishable prize. Therefore, I run in such a way, as not without aim; I box in such a way, as not beating the air; but I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified” (1 Corinthians 9:24-27)

Paul wasn’t saying this because he was a masochist or because he thought that pleasure is wrong, but because he is a spirit-builder. Just a body builders must tear muscles to have them rebuilt stronger and deny themselves certain foods and things, so must spirit builders stretch and exert their spiritual muscles and deny themselves things that will hinder their spiritual life. Self-actualization (fulfilling one’s calling, utilizing one’s gifts, and being devoted to a purpose greater than one’s self) is more pleasurable than self-indulgence. Happiness is not eating Cheetohs on a couch watching movies about other peoples’ interesting lives; true happiness involves meaning and purpose, which cannot be achieved apart from sacrifice, discipline, and self-denial. The results of that discipline are sweet though: I may not always enjoy working out, but I never regret it when I’m standing on a peak overlooking a beautiful mountain lake after a strenuous hike. I never regret saying no to sin when I’m standing in awe of what God has done in my life. In the book of Hebrews (12:11), Paul adds “All discipline for the moment seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness.”

Don’t misunderstand me: self-discipline is NOT the essence of spiritual life. The point of God’s grace and Jesus dying was that we CAN’T do it ourselves. Union with God is the essence of spiritual life. Any attempt of self-discipline alone to bring us to perfection and empowerment will lead to beating ourselves up or hating ourselves. The Eastern Orthodox Church has a word that describes the spiritual life: synergy- God and man working together. Jesus said, “Come to me all who are weary and heavy-laden and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). He didn’t say I will give you a bunch of stuff to do. Yes, He has adventures, battles, and work for us, but not burnout.

3.) Uncertainty

Adventures usually always contain some element of uncertainty. While exploring mountain ranges, one never knows what is over the next ridge. While hitchhiking, one never knows where he will end up next. This unpredictability keeps life interesting. So it is with spirituality. Unfortunately, many people view Christianity just a set of routines: read bible, say prescribed words, go to church, follow rules, etc. It was not meant to be that way though. If you read any of my hitchhiking journeys, you probably picked up on the spiritual nature of adventures. I never know what’s going to happen when I let the Spirit lead, but it’s always pretty cool! I meet people I’m supposed to meet and end up in random places. In the book of Acts (in the Bible) there are several accounts of the Spirit of God leading the apostles to different areas for meaningful purposes. They usually didn’t know what they were in for.  Not only is walking with God an adventure, but so is knowing Him. Just when I think I have him pinned down a new paradox about his nature comes up or a deeper understanding about His character. These discoveries usually lead to more questions, which lead to more discoveries, which lead to more questions, ad infinitum. The being of God is an ocean that cannot be fully explored even in eternity.

4.) Awe and Wonder

Most of the time when I’m going somewhere, I’m looking for beauty. While the journey is valuable in itself, I long to see peaceful lakes, majestic mountains, bubbling streams, strange plants and animals, and mind blowing skies. The spiritual life is also full of wonder. As I noted in the following point, God is an ocean to be explored, full of hidden treasure. Sometimes I will get a revelation of His majesty that is too sublime for words and the closest experiences I can compare it to are times in nature. I remember one time when I was in Mexico on a mission trip and we were singing songs about the Lord to the Lord on the edge of the Copper Canyon (which is bigger than the Grand Canyon) at night during a lightning storm. In that moment the majesty of God was reflected so much in the natural scene. So not only do encounters with God remind me of nature, more importantly perhaps, encounters with nature remind me of God. Walking by softly bubbling streams on a mossy forest floor, surrounded by massive cedars has moved my heart so much to think of peace, innocence, paradise, and the state in which we humans were meant to live.

Alaskan Pilgrimage: Seward to Palmer (day one)

As my season with Kenai Fjords Tours drew to a close, I started to plan for my time trekking through Alaska. I had already bought a ticket from Anchorage to Portland for the 16th of September and my last day working was August 23rd. So that gave me about three weeks to travel Alaska. My original itinerary was very ambitious (and not really realistic). It consisted of hiking the Resurrection Pass trail from Sterling Highway to Hope (about 40 miles — I thought I could make some cool spiritual metaphor with the name, especially if I hiked it in three days and on the third day reached Hope), go from Hope to Anchorage, Anchorage to Palmer, Palmer to Glenallen, Glenallen to Fairbanks, Fairbanks to Deadhorse, back to Fairbanks, down the Parks highway to Denali, and finally end up in Anchorage.

My itinerary first changed when I decided to not hike Resurrection Pass, because it was pretty far for a solo hike. The day after I finished work I also felt like God wanted me to hang around Seward for a of couple days, which I didn’t really want to do, but I did. My pastor hooked me up with a ride to Anchorage with one of his coworkers on the 26th of August. So I got a free ride up there in a box truck and also stopped at Whittier on the way. I enjoyed hanging out with the guy who gave me a ride too. When I got to Anchorage I stopped into to Walmart to get some film, feeling quite absurd walking around with my big pack and walking stick. After Walmart I planned to go to Barnes and Nobles to get a book for the road, but couldn’t find the store. On the way I got to pray for a guy in a wheelchair who got in a car accident nothing– miraculous happened in that moment. This was also when I really noticed the neediness of Anchorage — countless homeless people and liquor stores. As I was walking around Anchorage, I saw a building that said something about the North Slope, the Arctic Borough where Deadhorse is located. Now, I felt that I might end up working at Deadhorse through the winter, I was drawn to it anyway, so I stopped in. Instead of getting a job at Deadhorse, I got a dead end. So I pressed on, heading towards Northeast Anchorage and the Glenn Highway.

Between the heat, my overloaded pack, and my out of shape body the walk through town was pretty brutal. I stopped at a gas station and put together one of my new delicacies — a peanut butter and brownie taco. My boss gave me a box of brownies for the road before I left. After my meal, I tried to talk to a guy about Jesus and then admired some Amanita Muscarias (which are ubiquitous in Anchorage) before getting back to my trek. A couple more miles and I ran into a guy on crutches who said he dropped sheet rock on his ankle. I prayed for him and asked him how he felt, and he said, “wow, better actually, how does that shit work?” I told him that Jesus died to heal our bodies and our souls and he left sort of abruptly. I don’t know if he was opposed to Jesus or just sort of freaked out by the whole thing. Later down the road I met an older  guy in a wheelchair panhandling. He was a Vietnam vet and kept saying “I made it home, but not all of them made it home” in a garbled, distressed voice. I gave him some brownies and told him I was sorry he had to go through that. Not that it helped much, but I really was sorry. That guy probably went into Vietnam when he was my age or younger and has been screwed up ever since over some stupid war, but that’s a whole other topic.

I walked another mile or so and stopped to rest in front of a gas station. There were a few homeless people hanging out there. A loud mouthed, confusing woman who perpetually interrupted people named Henrietta; and her best friend who was ex-military and ex-commercial fisherman, Ken. They gave me a donut, which was cool, considering that they probably didn’t have too much to give. Ken then told me that a catering company out of Deadhorse was conducting job interviews on September 3rd in Anchorage. What are the chances? Here I am thinking about working in Deadhorse, I leave Seward a specific time, and then on this day run into a guy talking about work in Deadhorse on the street. At this point I considered hanging around Anchorage until the interviews. I decided instead, however, to alter my itinerary and head up Parks highway first, go to Denali, then turn around and come back to Anchorage in time for the interviews. Well that’s what I planned anyway; this alteration of my itinerary changed many other things too, which will be discussed in the upcoming chapters.

After hanging out with the homeless people, I trekked on towards Glenn Highway, now Denali Bound (after Palmer anyway). When I got to the highway I had no success hitchhiking though. I hitched for a couple hours probably and could not get a ride. A bit discouraged, I headed back into the outskirts of Anchorage. I went to a park and sat down with some other homeless people who were sitting at a table drinking a 40. There was a guy with a dog, a middle aged white woman, a middle aged Native woman, and a middle aged guy with a wolf  T-shirt on. I sat there and kept to myself, wondering how I could engage these obviously troubled people. In the midst of my thoughts a Native kid of about twelve came up crying, saying how some guy hurt him. The guy with the wolf shirt went to go confront the other guy, who was a bald, aggressive looking man. The bald guy was trying to get to the kid, but the wolf man and others were preventing him and chewing him out. I sat there wondering if I would have to get involved. Apparently the bald guy was pissed because the kid ratted on him for stealing something from the 711, but he eventually got on his bike and took off. Shortly after the cops came and questioned the homeless people, threatened a 300 dollar fine for drinking in the park, and made wolf man throw out his 40. Wolf man sat there complaining about the kid, repeating phrases like “little snitch bitch” even though he had defended the kid — obviously a fairly conflicted guy. This event was just another to remind me of the problems of Anchorage.

I decided that I had better go set up camp in the backwoods of that park, so I set out looking for a suitable spot. There was plenty of room, but there were also other tents. I was hesitant to set up in this sketchy area, fearing that I might get shanked and robbed. Off the trail I met Joey, an older hippie guy with long hair and large rimmed glasses smoking weed and walking his dog. When he learned I was headed to Palmer he offered me a ride. I can’t get a ride on the main road, but here I get one in some random park! Anyways, we waited around a bit and then left. Once we got on the road, he decided that the traffic for Alaska State Fair (in Palmer) was still too bad, so we pulled off for a while to go to McDonald’s and walk his dog some more. As we walked he told me his plan to go to the lower 48 for a month and find himself a “chickie-gal” to bring back up to Alaska — a fairly ambitious plan, but I hope it works out for him. We got back on the road to Palmer after about an hour. We talked about weed a bit, he said it mellows him out and gives him the munchies, which is good for him because medical issues have affected his appetite. I offered him prayer for his medical issues which led him to talk about spirituality a bit. He said that he doesn’t kneel to pray, but rather talks to God on the trail. I told him that I am the same way, one does not have to engage in certain rituals  to connect with God; there is only one God, but He is a personal God that speaks and connects with His people in unique was.. We made one more stop on our way to Palmer, a park called hay flats. It was a small man-made lake with a trail around it –pretty nice, it reminds me of a city park in my hometown of Helena.

Once we got to the fairgrounds, we cruised around looking for a suitable camping spot and he gave me some advice on camping. Before parting ways, I prayed for his physical problems. He then wandered into the fair and I angled into the backwoods of the fairgrounds, trying to look casual with my large pack. Fortunately no one stopped me. I got back in the woods and found a place to set up my tent in waste high, wet grass — not ideal but it worked. I actually didn’t sleep too bad.

Supertramp Apprentice: Hitchhiking Montana 2013 (part 3)

My final hitchhiking trip of 2013 was from Polson to West Glacier and back. I was originally planning on going to Browning, a small Indian Reservation East of Glacier, but that’s not how things turned out. I started my journey on Hwy 35, along the East side of Flathead Lake. I got picked up by a van full of teenagers with an adult driver who were apparently with some youth organization; seemingly for troubled youth. I got to talk with a young guy from LA who was just in rehab for drugs about God and the joy found in him. I run into a lot of people with substance use issues on the road. Anyways, they dropped me off at a gas station and Big Fork where I fairly quickly got a micro- ride by a back-to-the-land type of guy who also gave me a bag of cherries. Nice! I did some walking after that and found $20 dollars on the road! Nice again! Probably about a half an hour later I got another micro-ride to Columbia Falls, a small town a bit South of Glacier.

In Columbia Falls I first noticed a rock and mineral shop. After my run-in with the rock and mineral collection on my first journey (part 1) I became a rock and mineral fan, so I decided to check the store out. As I was walking up, I got the vibe that the store was owned by someone named Margaret. I kind of wrote it off at first, but I kept it in my mind. When I finished browsing the store, I brought my little chunk of amethyst to the counter to pay. I decided to roll with the vibe after all and hope it was the Spirit.

“Umm… is your name Margaret by chance?”

“Well, yes, but I go by Marge.”

“Whoa! That’s a trip! As I was walking up I felt like the owner of this store was Margaret.”

“Wow! Are you a psychic.”

“Well, no. I have a bit of prophetic ability though, it’s a gift talked about in the Bible.”

She immediately had a shocked look on her face and quickly put up walls, saying she didn’t talk about religion. The look was classic though, as if she would never suspect Christianity would have anything to do with spiritual gifts or supernatural phenomena. I love breaking peoples’ false assumptions about Christians!

I continued on down the road and went to a little tourist attraction called Montana Vortex or something. It was a gift shop and a so-called vortex. I payed $10 to take the tour, which wasn’t the best $10 I’ve spent in my life. The guide talked about vortexes that alter the physical world and such (I don’t remember all that he said, even though I tried to pay attention at the time). He went on to give demonstrations: “You stand here, you stand here, look how much taller he is over here than over there” etc. At times it seemed true, but it was probably the power of suggestion more than anything or perhaps the environment was altered to create optical illusions. Who knows though, maybe there are vortexes, I’ve haven’t really looked into it enough to have a strong opinion on the matter.  After the tour I hung around the gift shop because it felt right. I asked the cashier if I could pray a blessing over her and she said yes. Afterward she said she felt great peace from it. I told the cashier that I felt like I was supposed to be there and she was supportive of that and actually found me another person to pray for! She brought me a woman with a brain tumor and introduced me, ” This is our new friend Joel, he makes you feel good.” Legit! It was cool how that worked out because I certainly didn’t walk in there with a plan; I was just sort awkwardly fumbling about.

After my detour at the Vortex, I walked down the road a bit and soon saw a place off the side that seemed right. I walked up the steep hill into the woods and soon found a flat rock floor under a rocky overhang; it was really nice.  I set up camp and then felt lead to go down to the Flathead River, just across the road. When I got down there I saw a couple fishing and went down to them. Following fishing small talk, I asked if I could watch him fish because I want to learn to fly-fish. He said yes and even let cast a few times. I noticed that he had a spiritual looking tattoo and asked him about it. He said that it stood for the unification of the major religions. We talked a bit about Jesus and stuff after that as well. He said I should talk to his Muslim wife about religion.

His wife was from Morocco, a rare ethnicity to stumble upon in Montana. I talked with her about Jesus as the Son of God and grace. She also tried to convert me as well. I asked her if she believes that God speaks to people, to which she said yes, in dreams. So I told her that if she has a dream of Jesus, she will know He is the Son of God. Cool thing is that her name is Isha, which is very close to the name for Jesus in Arabic, Isa. She also told me a bit about Morocco, mostly its food and culture — apparently animal organs are good to eat, who knew? (I’m actually not being sarcastic and ethnocentric right now, I would consider trying liver, heart, etc).  I also learned my first, and only bit of Arabic: Salaam Aliki, which means peace be upon you. The guy gave me a little fish he caught, since he was just going to throw it back and I figured I would cook it. I nearly burnt the forest down instead, not really but sort of. I was going to roast it over a backpacker stove which was apparently only meant to be lit under its proprietary pot. When I lit it without the pot covering the burner, a 16 inch flame leaped out and would not go out. In panic, I went and threw it in a nearby stream until I could unscrew the propane tank. Needless to say, no fish for me that night.

The next day was pretty uneventful. It was slow catching rides, but I eventually got to West Glacier, where I kicked around a bit. With my only money spent on necessities like chunks of amethyst and tours of scientifically questionable phenomena, I decided to try to catch a fish. My tackle was a stick, a hook, some leader line, some “backing line” (a shoelace), and a chunk of beer can to act as a shiny lure. It failed. It was fun hanging out by the river though. Nonetheless, it was a hard day. I was hungry, confused, and indecisive. My spiritual signals were crossed and so I was kind of just tripping, unsure of which way I should go or if I should camp. I eventually decided to head back towards home, but people were not to generous. I spent about three hours alternately walking and hitching, standing, sitting, and laying. It was hot and I was hungry. I tried to be positive, saying it was a destined fast, but I was in no mood (and rarely am) to fast. I tried to catch some grasshoppers — John the Baptist style, and also foraged for some thimble berries — super tramp style (well, pretty much any number of indigenous people style for that matter). I had a few handfuls of berries and that was about it, bloody grasshoppers are hard to catch.

Eventually, I caught a ride to Kalispell with a nice guy from Colorado. We talked about backpacking the Copper Canyon (which he has done, and I have been there) and God, among other things. When I got into Kalispell, I called someone who I had met at the Orthodox church that I went to on my last hitchhiking trip to see if I could get a yard to camp in. He put me in touch with another guy and his wife, Tecon and Claire, who had me over to their house. The pizza, salad, and Pabst Blue Ribbon they gave me was a feast compared to my handful of thimble berries. Tecon, who had recently changed his name, gets his name from the saint that inspired Father Zosima in Dostoyevsky’s The Brother’s Karamazov, which is one of my favorite books. This and the fact that Tecon is a creative writing major gave us plenty to talk about. Another interesting topic, as it was on my last trip, was Orthodox Christianity with its theology and doctrines. After that, we worked on some audio editing (another mutual interest) for a bit. To finish off the night, he made me a White Russian, a nice complement to my love of Russian Literature — also super tramp style.

The next day I went to the Orthodox church and ran into the people who let me stay at their house in Eureka, Bill and Theresa — that was a pleasant surprise. After the service and lunch I started making my way through Kalispell. I got picked up and dropped off about 6 miles from Lakeside — a micro-ride of ten miles or so. I walked to Lakeside and met a guy also hitching who was from Oklahoma. On the way to Lakeside I found $5, which I used to buy a delicious huckleberry blizzard. I met another hitchhiker in Lakeside who asked me if I had any weed. I talked to him a bit; he was a nice guy and an alcoholic. I offered him prayer and told him Jesus could set him free. He believes in Jesus, but kind of pushed the matter to the side. From Lakeside I got a ride all the way into Polson from a lady who lived in Elmo (about 17 miles outside of Polson). That was nice of her. It turns out she lived in Alaska for 45 years, so she talked to me about Alaska a bit too.

Reindeer Sausage and Theology: Hitchhiking the Kenai (part 2.2)

As promised, here is part two of my trip to Homer. I woke up early and hit the road immediately — I guess I didn’t feel too attached to the Homer spit or the shower room at this point. It took about 1-2 hours to get off the spit and into town. I stopped at a nice local place called Sour Dough express, which was originally a mobile food bus based on the Homer spit back in the 70s. I really liked the place; I mean, it was a simple diner, nothing too crazy but the food was all organic and it had some local colour to it. After some sourdough pancakes, I bought an overpriced mug for my family and a smoked salmon pastry for the road.

Homer is not the best place to hitchhike out of. The main problem is that there is no shoulder for cars to pull off at first, so one must climb the hill out of town. Ok, it’s not that big of a deal, but I was feeling lazy at the time and I had already walked 5 or so miles. Even when I got to the top of the hill where there was a shoulder, I couldn’t get a ride. I kept walking and eventually got picked up by a guy who lived in Anchor Point, a small community 15 miles or so from Homer. He had some sort of disability and I prayed for him. It turns out he was a believer, but it seemed that he was having some struggles, so hopefully I encouraged him.

I didn’t have to wait too long before I got a ride with a guy who was a county commissioner or something. He was a commercial fisherman in Homer and was originally from Oregon. I asked him if commercial fishing is really as dramatic and dangerous as they make it out to be on TV. Not surprisingly, he said no. It can be dangerous and there can be conflict, but the TV shows generate it and only show the dangerous spots. I asked him what he thought about God and he said that he was an atheist; he felt that God was a superstition. We had some of the typical banter on that subject (how old is the earth, miracles, etc) and I shared some of my personal experiences. He went into a story about his son with a heart problem who was waiting for a transplant. I thought to myself that he was going to tell me his son died and ask why God would allow that or whether or not he went to Heaven or some other difficult question. What followed rather surprised me though.

He told me that his son was put on anesthesia on Good Friday and breathed his first conscious and independent breath (ie free of machines) on Easter. While he didn’t give God credit for this as much as the doctors, he found it interesting how it paralleled the account of the crucifixion and resurrection. A bit later he noted how he should learn about what the Orthodox church believes, since there is a community in Homer. This gave me an opportunity to elaborate in a way that tied in very well the story of his son. The Orthodox paradigm for salvation is about healing, about God healing and restoring sin sick humanity; while Protestant and Catholic views usually have more to do with legal (ie God justifying sinners who deserve his punishment). The healing, restoring, and reconciling paradigm resonates much more with me than the idea that God is a harsh and seemingly sadistic judge. Anyways, I tied it in with the story of his son by saying that Jesus mystically became one with humanity and then died to in order to cleanse the sin from humanity; in essence, to give us a heart transplant. I don’t exactly remember how I put it, but it doesn’t matter because I don’t exactly understand the nature of crucifixion and resurrection anyway. Unlike Western ideas of salvation, the Orthodox don’t view salvation as a cut-and-dried, formulaic legal contract as much as a mystery. Yes, there are truths about it that are affirmed, but when it comes down to it, we fail to grasp the total significance of all that Christ accomplished. The patient of a heart transplant does not understand all the technical and medical principles that went into his operation, neither does the redeemed sinner know exactly how he was cleansed, healed, and restored to God by the crucifixion and resurrection. Anyways, we talked some more about hitchhiking and travel and then in Soldotna he bought me a reindeer sausage from a roadside vendor; it was really good.

I stood out by Fred Meyers on the edge of Soldotna, the same place as last time, and got a ride pretty quickly. The guy had to honk a couple times because I was spacing out — oops. This guy was from Montana, like me; well he was originally from Chicago, but now lives in Montana. He was a cool and friendly guy who was up in Alaska training car salesmen how to do financial paperwork or something like that. We chatted a bit and somehow ended up getting on the subject of weed. He told me how he used to smoke it. I told him that ecstasy used to be my drug of choice but then I encountered the love of God and experienced true ecstasy. He asked me if I was a Christian, to which I replied yes and asked him about his beliefs. He was also a believer. So we talked about spiritual things a bit, which is always nice and then parted ways at the Y.

At the Y I got picked up shortly by a guy named Mark who is a traveling RN. He was a very inspiring guy to me; enthusiasm, positivity, excellence, and happiness radiated from him without him coming across as cheesy obnoxious like some people with those qualities come across. His enthusiasm came across as he talked passionately about photography, travel, and his work as a Nurse. As a traveling nurse he gets to visit many places, but he said that “working with people is a challenge and a labor of love”. It was evident that he doesn’t view hardships as things to whine about but to be embraced as challenges that show love and bring growth. We talked quite a bit about Alaska and photography. He has pretty much won me over to the idea of getting a small point and shoot camera that is shock and waterproof. Compact, simple, and rugged — exactly what I need. He was headed to Seward to snag Sockeyes, I almost wanted to ask him if I could tag along, but I didn’t want to be obnoxious. At the end of our ride I asked if I could pray a blessing over him and he said “I always pray!” So we prayed together and we parted ways. I feel very grateful to meet that guy; he still inspires me.

So ends my hitchhiking on the Kenai Peninsula.

Smoked Salmon and Mosquitoes:Hitchhiking the Kenai (part one)

It wasn’t long after arriving in Seward that I wanted to explore more of Alaska. I also needed some backpacking gear so I decided to make a trip of it and head for the Sportsman’s Warehouse in Soldotna, a city significantly bigger than Seward about 90 minutes to the Northwest. I first got picked up by a young guy named Solomon who took me 15 miles or so; I had never met a Solomon before. Shortly after that I got another “micro ride” to Moose Pass, a small community about 30 miles north of Seward. I actually saw a moose there too, a young calf (of course I had already seen about a dozen moose by this point, but I always enjoy seeing them). I was able to secure another micro ride to the “Y” (ie Sterling exchange) with another hitchhiker. The Y is where the Sterling highway and the Seward highway meet, heading North will lead to Anchorage, South to Seward, and West to Soldotna, Kenai, Homer, and some other small communities.

I walked down the road a little ways and then stopped in the forest to relieve myself. I didn’t include that detail for no reason though, because when I was in the forest I found a bag full of syringes; weird find. The package said that  that they were for insulin, but who knows. I wondered if it had any significance to me as a future chemical dependency counselor; I have thought of working specifically with inner city heroin addicts in particular. It also caught my eye when I learned that the son of the guy who picked me up next was a recovering heroin/opiate addict.

The guy who picked me up was probably in his 50s or so and was coming back from Seward and heading to Soldotna (finally a long ride). He works with heavy machinery in Soldotna but has a fishing boat in Seward that he uses on the weekends. We had a good conversation about the outdoors, Alaska, and such. After taking me all the way to Soldotna he  took me to his house and gave me two of his old fishing poles with reels and a few packets of smoked salmon! I also got to meet his son. I was blown away by his generosity and wanted to pray a blessing over his house. I had learned earlier that his finger was hurting him because he snagged it with a big fishing hook, so I prayed for his finger too and he said it didn’t hurt anymore! He said that sometime when he was in Seward he could take me out on his boat (which unfortunately never happened because his hours got changed and my hours got changed ).

After this cool encounter, I went to Sportsmen and spent some of my hard earned cash and started back towards Seward. I set up next to Fred Meyers and soon got a ride by a quirky Alaska Native (not Native American, but born and raised in Alaska; it seems a majority of the people I had met up to that point were immigrants to Alaska). She started out by offering me some weed (I think my Rasta colored beanie is like a beacon to get picked up by stoners lol) and then asking if I cared if she smoked while driving; I wasn’t too concerned. After that she ranted a bit about rich people moving to Alaska and buying land to build fancy houses on (I’m from Montana so I can relate). This turned out to be another micro ride, but beggars can’t be choosers; I gave her a piece of my smoked salmon and prayed a blessing over her and we parted ways.

I had to walk a bit in the rain, but I had rain gear, so it wasn’t a big thing. Teachable moment: it rains a lot in Alaska, get rain gear if you plan on going. As I was walking I saw a truck pulling a trailer that said “Yoder Construction” on it. This tripped me out because last summer I picked up a Hutterite guy in Montana, who had a construction company called “Yoder Builders”; small world. After a bit more walking, I got another micro ride into Sterline, a small town about 20 miles East of Soldotna. In Sterling, I stopped at a gas station to get a couple snacks with my few remaining dollars. Trying to get through the gas station door with my back and two fish poles provided quite an exhibit, so much so that another customer quipped “only in Alaska”.

Back out in the rain. I don’t mind walking and hitching as much as just standing there; but it’s a good opportunity to learn patience anyway. After about 45 minutes I got picked up by a guy in his mid to late twenties. He was a military vet from Louisiana who was going through some stuff at the time. He shared some disturbing anecdotes of his time in Afghanistan. Other than that, we had quite a good talk about military, spirituality, drugs, tattoos, etc; I enjoyed his company quite a bit and found in informative to hear about his life and experiences. I gave him one of my new fishing poles and we parted ways at the Sterling exchange.

At the exchange I thought I had a ride right off the bat, but I was mistaken. I saw a car full of Asians slowing down and pulling over and I thought “No way, they don’t have much room and Asians never pick me up” (stereotyping again lol). I walked up to the passenger window to talk to them and a guy rolled it down to take a picture of Tern Lake. He then looked at me and chuckled uncomfortably like “why are you walking up to my car you strange American?” So, I trekked on and on. It was getting late, so I was considering camping, but I lacked food and I was supposed to leave early the next morning for a boat tour of Northwestern Glacier. Nonetheless, I stopped several times to try to set up camp in a non-committal fashion. Unfortunately I was unfamiliar with my tent and forgot mosquito spray, so every time I walked in the woods to set up my tent I was swarmed by mosquitoes before I could figure it out. The only thing I succeeded at was swearing like a sailor. I don’t even swear much, but out in the woods when I can’t figure stuff out it just sort comes out. Feeling like a failure and a baby, I trudged on. I did my best to stay in a positive mood as countless people passed me up, my feet ached, and I felt stupid and incompetent. I remember humor helped a lot at dispelling my mood. I said stupid things to myself like “Hey, Bear Grylls, you’re quite the outdoorsman, can’t even set up a tent”. At this point I was more satirizing myself than feeling ashamed. I would also address the cars as they passed by “thanks so much for the ride bro, I really appreciate it.” It sounds incredibly stupid to me now, as these “jokes” aren’t even the least bit subtle but it was therapeutic in the moment. I probably was one of those crazy homeless guys talking to himself as he walks down the street.

It was nearing dark , probably 11:30 pm or so as I came to Moose Pass. I didn’t have a plan at this point, I just kept walking. To my great surprise, I actually got picked up! A middle aged woman from Oregon picked me up. She works at a fishing charter company in Seward and likes photography, which gave us something to talk about. She also shared with me how she had suffered a traumatic brain injury some years before. I asked if I could pray for her and she said yes. Afterwards, she was telling me how she felt like she was supposed to pick me up. Whoa! She dropped me off at the bunkhouse in Seward and I went to sleep (or tried to because Mad Jack, the cab driver with golden ducks all over his van,  was probably talking on the phone next door with his 200 decibel voice as he did most nights).

Eureka! Hitchhiking Montana 2013 (part 2)

A week or so after my first hitchhiking trip to Missoula and back, I decided to take a couple days to go to Libby and/or Eureka from Polson. I decided to go North up the 93 to Kalispell, West on Hwy 2 to Libby, up Hwy 37 to Eureka, and back down 93 through Kalispell to Polson. So I started hitching just across the Flathead river on the 93. Within 30 minutes or so I landed a ride all the way to Kalispell (60 miles or so). It was the first time getting picked up by a newer vehicle, which broke some of my assumptions about who would pick people up. I assumed that broke people driving junkers would pick people up because they know what it is like to be in need and aren’t shallow and materialistic. This happening, however, served to remind me to not categorize people so simplistically and to avoid snap judgments.

He dropped me off in Kalispell and I waited along the roadside for a while but got impatient and decided to walk. My grandpa told me that walking during hitchhiking is not a good idea, but it seems to work for me because I got picked up after a couple hours. A family headed to Silverwood let me ride the remaining distance (hour and a half or so) in the back of their truck. Libby is a small town with the Kootenai River running through it. It’s a quiet and pretty little place; I could probably live there someday. I didn’t spend too much time in Libby; I immediately began making my way North through town towards Highway 37, which runs to Eureka. As I walked through by a store I noticed a small pamphlet with a backpacker on the cover and the heading “Spiritual but not Religious?”. That was cool to me because that’s how I view myself despite the fact that people view Christianity as just a dull religion. I picked it up and still have that cover tucked away somewhere.

 

I walked across the bridge over the Kootenai and stopped under it on the other side. I fished until I snagged and lost all my lures. It was probably late afternoon by then, 4 or so, and I figured it might be hard to get a ride to Eureka. So I was thinking about setting up under the bridge. While I was sitting under there I saw a police car across the river swing around and do a double take and then start to head across the bridge. I assumed that he was after me, because I didn’t have reservations for my luxury suite, but maybe he wasn’t. In any case, I left my spot and started trekking up the highway, looking for potential campsites along the way that wouldn’t require trespassing. For a long time I couldn’t get a ride or find a suitable campsite. Discouraged, I stopped signalling to cars and just kept walking. A car eventually did pull over though and and elderly, frail looking couple offered to take me to the next campground. I forget the name of the place, but it was a nice site on the river just South of Libby Dam and Lake Kookanusa. I set up my tent and slept poorly. It has taken me a while to learn how to sleep in tents; I used to only get an hour or less or sleep, but I’ve gotten used to it somewhat.

The next day I got up fairly early, ate some oatmeal, broke camp, and started heading North towards Libby Dam. I walked for a few hours without any luck. There weren’t any shoulders to hitchhike from and it was a fairly narrow road frequented by motorcycles and trucks pulling boats. I stopped at the dam for a little while and looked around then continued on. On the other side of the dam is Lake Koocanusa, a long beautiful lake that extends into British Columbia.

 

Lake Koocanusa (Photocredit montanamoods.com

After walking along the road for a while a shimmering rock caught my eye. I walked up to it and found a scrap piece of plastic that said “Wesbar”. This is significant because at that time I had an opportunity to work as a roofer with a guy name Wes Barr but was on the fence because I already had a more predictable, but dull factory job. Well, I decided that this meant I should go for the roofing job. I’m very happy I did because not only did I make more money, but I learned some new skills and experienced a different kind of work. So there you have it, I make it important life decisions based upon plastic scraps I find alongside the highway lol. Eventually a smallish RV pulled over and offered to take me to Eureka. A twenty something year old was driving and accompanied by his younger brother and a couple of French exchange students. They came from San Diego and were headed to Banff National (or provincial?) park in Canada, seeing the sights along the way; sounds like fun. I had a friendly debate/discussion with the driver on philosophy and religion and he said it was something that he had been thinking of a lot lately.They dropped me off at a gas station in Eureka and we parted ways.

I figured it would be hard to find a place to crash in Eureka, so I was planning on finding some national forest or a campground South on 93. It turned out to be very easy to find a place to crash in Eureka though. As I was walking through town I came up on some kind of concert in a park. I went over to the park to check it out and found out it was a Christian concert put on by local musicians and churches. They also had free food, which is good news to a hitchhiker, especially one who didn’t bring any money and had only limited food. So I ate the best food I had had yet on the trip and sat there listening to the music. I chatted with some of the locals who were very friendly. After an hour or so I went and sat down on a bench, considering my next move. A woman came and sat down next to me and we started talking. From the time she sat down I felt the presence of God strongly, waves of joy and peace. Upon learning that I was traveling, she offered to let me stay at her and her husband’s house, literally right next to the park. Needless to say, I agreed.

I found my hosts to be very hospitable and pleasant. In fact, they have given an example that I want to follow when I have a home. They are also very interesting people who are well traveled and have a broad range of interests from mycology, to linguistics, and Eastern Orthodox Christianity. This last interest was what really caught my attention. I first learned of some Eastern Orthodox theological concepts at the Mystical School I attended that spring (the John Crowder event I mentioned in the last article) and had been wrestling with them ever since. They were very new ideas to me and I thought they were his inventions based on a liberal reading of the scripture, little did I know that they were rooted in 2,ooo years of history in the Orthodox church and some of my doctrines were the recent inventions. The subject matter is too long to put in an already long article (perhaps I’ll cover it later) but suffice it to say that this was the start of a lengthy theological overhaul. The next day I went to an Orthodox house church in Kalispell with my host that was named in honor of St. Herman of Alaska. From here on out I started seeing Alaska everywhere; in fact the guy who picked me up in Kalispell and took me to Polson talked about working in Alaska. So that’s how God used a hitchhiking trip to improve my understanding of Him more, put on the track to Alaska, meet some great people, and share His love.

Glory Be! Hitchhiking Montana (2013) (part one)

I picked up hitch hiking in the summer of 2013. I don’t entirely remember why I decided to do it. I do like trying new things and I have a bit of a hippie gene in me (my mom lived in a bus for a while as a kid). Maybe also the spontaneity and uncertainty of it appealed to me. My first attempt at it was trying to reach the Rainbow Gathering in Dillon, MT from Polson, MT. I wanted to experience that culture, hang out with chill hippies, and spread the love of Jesus.

I got a ride to St Ignatius from Polson (about 30 miles) by a nice rancher and prayed for his hurt leg. Some hippies from Alabama gave me a ride to Missoula after that. In Missoula I walked the roadside for a bit and met a couple from Portland who were also headed to the Rainbow Gathering. The guy asked me for some weed and I offered a spiritual high. He reluctantly let me pray for him; no sparks flew for whatever reason. He then asked for and ID and money to get booze finishing with a quote that has stuck with me: ” I’ll take anything; I need something”. He said that with such a tone of desperation and emptiness. He’ll take anything, even if it kills him, to numb the pain and give him a bit of “happiness”. This man and this quote was my first encounter with the neediness of Portland; he was a good representative of that spirit of existential hunger and emptiness that is so prevalent in Portland (more on that later).

Anyways, I continued on my way and ran into a musician from Seattle heading to Bozeman; we chatted a bit and then parted ways. I spent the next couple hours trudging through the heat and thumbing until I got to a rest stop, very dehydrated and nearly unable to walk. Here is the first practical lesson of hitchhiking in the summer: do not bring a 20 oz water bottle. The second lesson: do not wear Vibram Five Fingers when you’re planning on walking miles on the hard pavement with a significant sized pack. I bought a gallon jug of water at the gas station and then sat outside trying to catch a ride. After a while I gave up and started heading back to Polson in defeat. At this point I couldn’t even catch a ride back so I alternated between hitch hiking and looking for a decent campsite. I eventually got picked up by a guy my age who said he would take me to the exit towards Polson. He was very much into weed. I shared with him about God and spirituality a bit. There is a connection between drugs and spirituality, not in the sense of “do mushrooms to find God” but drugs are an attempt to reach a higher plane of existence that only can be reached through God.  Anyways, before we parted ways I asked my new friend if I could pray for him, and he said yes. After praying blessings, enlightenment, and revelation over him I noticed that my “prayer hand” was shimmering with gold dust. This probably sounds absurd to anyone unfamiliar and/or uncomfortable with supernatural phenomena but it is what it is. When I first heard about this phenomena I was a bit skeptical but I kept an open mind and then it started happening to me after I attended a John Crowder event in Spokane earlier that year. I pointed this out to the guy and he didn’t say much. I don’t think he knew what to think, or perhaps he just thought I was nuts.

Now, in better spirits, I started making my way up highway 93 towards Polson. In 3o minutes or so a young woman picked me up saying that she usually doesn’t pick people up but I looked okay. I kind of got the vibe that her name was Vanessa and asked her. She said no and asked why. Feeling stupid, I told her that I sometimes get spiritual impressions but I’m not infallible and vaguely perceive the spiritual realm (more on that in a later article I’m going to write called Mysticism and Madness). We talked about God and spirituality for a while but she didn’t seem incredibly interested. All this time my hands continued shimmering, but I didn’t say anything about it. She took me to her friend’s ranch in St. Ignatius called “Glory-B”. I found that appropriate because the Glory had been all over me that day. I found it more appropriate when she showed me a massive rock and mineral collection that full of shimmering rocks! My mind was blown at that point. I wondered how God could have put that all together while accounting for all the variables including the most fickle variable of human free will. I stopped trying to understand it and just reveled in it. I gave her some gas money to take me the rest of the way to Polson and we hung out there and watched the city fireworks (it was 4th of July).

This is when hitchhiking became a thing for me. Despite what people will tell you, the majority of people who pick you up while hitchhiking are not serial killers, on the contrary they are usually kindhearted and open-minded people. My relative lack of control also helps me to flow with the Spirit and end up seeing cool things. My blisters, dehydration, and temporary misanthropy (it’s easy to get really pissed at people when you’re in desperate need of a ride and no one will pick you up [not that they are obligated too but in the moment it feels very irritating]) were not the best things to experience but every adventure contains hardship and frustration. Now if you are reading this after reading the last article about island life, then you are probably wondering what the connection is to Alaska. Don’t worry! It’s coming up in part 2.