Finally, we had a chance to reunite with Fernweh and Aids. We found them sitting at a bandstand in downtown Kamloops, and consummated the reunion of Hoboism with the prompt consumption of cans of sardines and beer.
The group was one again!
The next few hours we dedicated to making cash. Details will be spared as to how this was done (as per the Hobo Code) - but, let it be known that a guitar (skills or no skills) and a sign can make you a shitload of fast cash.
Eighty bucks in hand, we decided to rape the dollar store of its goods. We began to clear shelves of cheap food, but quickly realized that if we were going to hop a train out of Kamloops, as we'd planned, we'd need a lot of liquor. We sacrificed some (read: most) of our foodstuffs for liquor money.
From the dollar store, we headed to the liquor depot. A 60 pounder of Appleton's left the store with us, and we made our way towards the train tracks.
This was a new crew. Fernweh, my brother slash husband, had hopped freight across Canada before. Last year, we'd tried to hop from this exact spot, but the train had left without Fernweh and they'd ended up hitchhiking.
Scrib, who'd hopped freight short distances across the Island, was more than excited to finally go on a long distance journey across the rails. His speech was rushed, his movements were ecstatic, his energy unmatched.
Aids had never so much as been on a train, and was a bit anxious to plummet into the world of trainhopping. Her nervousness showed in her voice.
The first two trains were a bust. The slaves masked themselves as oncoming trains, confusing us into a perilous conundrum which left us crouching sheltered in the bushes while our potential rides sped by.
Fortunately, the universe supplied us with the perfect alcove for chilling in. A rounded hole had been dug about five feet deep into the ground where we'd dove into the bushes, wide enough for all of us to fit in, and smooth enough for us to kick back on.
Half an hour later, our journey truly began. We felt the rumble of the train before we heard it, and, like an infuriated tiger creeping towards us, the growl grew louder and louder as the steel snake tore down the tracks towards us. Once the conductor's unit had sped past and the train begun to slow, we dove out of our hiding spot and fled down the tracks in the opposite direction, searching for the slave.
Running with an 80 pound backpack, a guitar and a didgeridoo isn't always the most relaxing thing to do, but sometimes it's necessary.
A sweaty, ten minute jog later and we found ourselves at the end of the train. The back unit purred quietly as we approached, awaiting our entry. We climbed the stairs, greasing our hands on the forever filthy handrails, and let ourselves into the unit.
We crouched within the slave for a few minutes. We'd almost made it on our way - we were on the train. The only thing to wait for now was the train to start. We spoke in excited whispers (despite the fact that there was nobody to hear us) pre-living our journey and contemplating the areas and adventures we were bound to end up in.
Ten minutes later, the train lurched forward, slipping us into the beginning of our adventure. The train slid slowly down the tracks, through the trainyard, past oblivious security guards, and out of Kamloops.
Once we'd left the city limits, we found ourselves free to fraternize on the back of the unit. We hung off the back the slave, sipping shots of Appleton's while our feet dangled five feet above a landscape that lunged past faster than a cheetah.
Scrib, so awestruck and inspired by the untouched beauty of the train's path through the wilderness, stood staring at the stars with a glint in his eye and a jaw hanging open. He proclaimed his newest love, a newfound, heartfelt infatuation with life on the rails. He compared this experience to all his past loves.
It was great to have him here.
It was great to be here.
It was great to finally be on our way.
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