weed, whites, and wine


Discussion Topic

Return to Forum List
Post a Reply
Messages 41 - 60 of total 77 in this topic << First  |  < Previous  |  Show All  |  Next >  |  Last >>

Social climber
Ely, Nv
Feb 16, 2013 - 11:22pm PT
I was kidding, anyway. You drove it like you stole it, right?
wink, wink.
Jebus H Bomz

Feb 16, 2013 - 11:48pm PT
There's something about going up (or down) 95 that always leaves me agog. The sterile beauty of a land that doesn't support much more than some sage and scrub trees interspersed with Indian reservations, the almighty military complex, creepy towns with houses that meth built, and a shady or lady or two to salve the pecker for a negotiable price. Tonopah fits tight as a glass eye into that mix.
Ed Hartouni

Trad climber
Livermore, CA
Feb 16, 2013 - 11:56pm PT
the tread below is a product of driving down that road...

Jaybro and I traveling from SLC to Bishop...

this was after listening to about 8 versions of Willin' on my iPod
ß Î Ø T Ç H

Boulder climber
Feb 17, 2013 - 12:57am PT
U.S. 6
Hwy 6 sign in Bishop today

Trad climber
Nor Cal
Feb 17, 2013 - 10:30am PT
I spent 3 days at the entrance ramp east bound in Needles. Only got a ride when my niece drove from Flagstaff and picked me up.

Social climber
Topic Author's Reply - Feb 17, 2013 - 10:31am PT
Out of cash- out of dope- out of luck
There was always some message written on the backs of the road signs at the entrance ramps.
Fukc George Washington--going East out of George, WA. Complete with anatomically incorrect possibilities drawn in.
In 2012, I stopped to see if the message was still there but time and the Washington state DOT had replaced the sign

I see that U.S. highway sign and I can smell the Sage from here. Nevada has it, but the City of Rocks has the best Sage that I ever hit.

Trying to get to Jackson, WY and I'm stuck in Steamboat Springs. Same as it ever was, so I'm going to walk out of town up Rabbit Ears pass to sleep in the ditch.
Then this white van pulls up very slowly and stops- behind it is the Sheriff escorting them out of town. The door opens and they ask if I know where Glendo Reservoir is- I say "No, but I can find it--and off we go. A long strange night of drunken driving, Viet Nam vet stories and other worldly advice.

Trad climber
Pollock Pines, California
Feb 17, 2013 - 10:44am PT
we were harvesting poppy seeds from
bountiful gardens in the city limits.

our pockets full of seeds,
and our heads devoid of beliefs,

we put up our thumbs
with our sights on nederland.

an older fella in a pimp 70's van
picked us up and we begin
our sputtering journey up the mountain.

"no way this rig is going to pull this grade" i muse within.
sure enough, we break down at a pullout above the river.
some boaters were eyeing the flow below
and i thought,
geez you guys are f*#king crazy.

the old hippy pulls a bag of beef outta the trunk,
with some old homemade grill.
he says we best eat the meat, else it go south, like the geez in winter.

i scramble about finding wood,
and we fire up the que
and it turns into a roadside party.
boaters, hippies, tourists.
the cops even showed at one point, it was then that i stuffed
all my dreams into one brain cell,
once the heat departed my dreams had reproduced
and exploded all about in vivid theatre.

i divulged my udder state to my old and new friends,
and the old hippy handed me a burger with poppy seeds
sprinkled all over.

no cheese. no condiments. no bread. just a grilled-to-perfection
psychedelic hamburger.

bags of wine. boomers. burgers. boaters. a-beliefs.

everything was just fine,
and we eventually made it to nederland in the back
of some truck.

Social climber
Topic Author's Reply - Feb 17, 2013 - 11:27am PT
Thanks Weej
says it all
Jebus H Bomz

Feb 17, 2013 - 11:40am PT
The Weeg in Nederland. Now, that really is a tale.

The Granite State.
Feb 17, 2013 - 01:37pm PT
Tonopah fits tight as a glass eye into that mix.

Good one.

The Granite State.
Feb 17, 2013 - 01:48pm PT
So, eighteen and feeling the need to ditch NH.

I took a bus to South Station in Boston and hopped on a train to Denver. Met some great folks on the train, and promptly got ripped off buying some bunk weed at the RTD terminal in Denver. Hey, I was a young country bumpkin!

Took the bus to Boulder and stayed at a really shitty hostel, poring over the map, trying to decide where to move to. Bombed my skateboard down the hill in boulder, and then started hitching.

I'd never hitched before, and it was nerve wracking and awesome all at the same time. Got a ride up to Nederland from a guy named Peter Korba. To this day, his name sticks with me, because he was my first ride, and because he offered me a job building houses. I declined and moved on. I've always wondered how my life would've gone if I'd accepted the job offer.

Next ride was a woman who was selling crystals. She got me stoned and took me to a monastery. Strange but great ride.

Next, a couple picked me up and threw me in the back of their pickup, took me all the way to Estes. I got a ride, and skated, up to RMNP entrance. The road had closed the day before for the season.

Dejected, I hitched down to Fort Collins and caught a bus to Boulder. The next day I hopped onto a Greyhound to Steamboat Springs and spent the next two years there.

This was in '99.

Then there was my hitching trip in AK...way crazier...

some eastside hovel
Feb 17, 2013 - 02:09pm PT
Going to Bozeman from Bishop one year for xmas.It's about mid-december and I'd done this drive(hwy 6)a million times so knew to watch the road for livestock and wild horses,especially at dusk/night.Got a late start from Bishop so had my eyes pealed at the late hour of the day.As I'm coming over one of those "summits" where you can see like 30 miles of the two lane you're about to travel I spot something in the road WAAAYY off.This is somewhere near Black Rock lava flow,basically ninety miles from Tonopah and still ninety miles to Ely.As I get closer I can see it's not the usual suspected livestock as it appears to look blue.When I finally get close enough to identify I realize it's a guy with a manky harness system towing a Radio Flyer wagon with gear stacked like five feet high and lashed down with a blue tarp.When I returned back to Bishop a couple weeks later the guy was still pluggin' along,but didn't seem to be in a real hurry.That's one memorable story I've come away with from my travels on the 6.

The Granite State.
Feb 17, 2013 - 02:14pm PT
Coming back from a trip in the SW, I picked up a couple from Oregon who were riding their bikes. He was hauling all the gear, and a dog, in a small trailer. We gave them a ride for a while, exchanged numbers, and headed off.

Two weeks later, I got a call. They were headed into South Lake. They spent two days at my house and we had a great time. Then they moved on.

Never heard from them again, but they were truly the salt of the earth.

I shared this story here a couple of years ago, and sure enough, a couple of ST'ers are friends with them. Wish I could remember their names...

Feb 17, 2013 - 02:57pm PT
A friend of mine picked up a hitchhiker, as soon as the guy got in the car he shot my friend, and put the gun to his head and told him to drive home, he robbed him and took the car.

I hitched a ride on the trail in Mineral King....how can you go wrong hitching a ride from someone you met in the back country? It ended up being a really weird adventure...the one guy was really weird, a little mentally unstable, and was acting all enamored with me, then it came out and he kept trying to get me to "wrestle" him. A lot happened but I don't feel like typing that much right now

El Presidio San Augustin del Tucson
Feb 17, 2013 - 03:45pm PT
I hitched a ride from Burlington, VT to New York City.
I was with my big black dog Kaya. The guy that picked us up had bloody knuckles and reeked of alcohol from a weekend bender, but was nice.
He dropped us off at the Hudson River and 57th, a recognizable intersection even to a kid form Arizona.
I asked someone for directions to Central Park, which was pretty close.
My skateboard was strapped to the back of by big 'ol Lowe pack, so I sat on it and had Kaya pull me down the busy Manhattan sidewalks to the park.
Once there, it was a really cool feeling to be all alone, so far from home, in this crowded city with no plan...but not feeling scared and totally at peace with my "predicament". The Park is a special place and kind of reminded me of Yosemite, with massive towers and walls rising up and out of the forest.
I had all kinds of amazing experiences that day before friends from Long Island came to pick me up late that night. One of the most unique days of my life, actually.

The Granite State.
Feb 17, 2013 - 08:48pm PT
So, I decided three days prior to go to Alaska with my boss's girlfriends twin sister. We'd met before, but didn't really know each other.

We met at the airport and when we got to Ancoragua, took a cab to a super sketchy hostel (this seems to be a recurring theme with me). Once the random gunfire subsided, we got some sleep.

The next morning, we caught a bus into town and then another bus to the on ramp of the Kenai highway. We were picked up by a mourning widow in a Volvo wagon. Sad, sad ride, to say the least.She dropped us off in Girdwood. We walked through the rain into town and I tried to locate a friend from NH who coaches the ski team there. He wasn't around, so we settled into the bar in town.

The trip is just begun, but I'm done typing for now.

Social climber
flagstaff arizona
Feb 17, 2013 - 09:22pm PT
I just did some rough math on a few of my longer trips, and I think I've easily got 10,000 miles of bindlestiff travel under my belt. Most of it in the 70's, when hitchiking was still a viable form of transportation. Dosen't include at least 3 or 4 thousand miles of Freight-hopping. So many very wierd stories. One of the weirdest involved getting from Tuolumne to SLC with Off White. We were penniless. Caught a ride across most of Nevada in the pickup truck of this very sketchy character. He had no money so we stopped in wierd little towns not unlike Tonopah to siphon gas out of cars. Our last leg into SLC we were picked up by this very nice Morman gentleman, probably late 60's, when made us ride in the back seat and kept asking us to reassure him that we were not going to hurt him. In SLC we were sleeping under a freeway overpass we we were taken in by "Red", a long-haired hippie with nothing but a giant garbage bag of ragweed in his fridge. Just that one summer (1977) is worth a book, maybe two.

Trad climber
Choss Creek, ID
Feb 17, 2013 - 09:52pm PT
Out of gas on a March night on Hwy 95 Nevada, 1980.

From North Idaho: the ex-wife and I took a late-March road trip down to Vegas, via the most remote paved-roads I could find.

We were pretty much on main highways, until Elko, where we spent the night, ate Basque food, and sampled the thrills of “down-town” Elko. We then we drove a little west on I-80 and wandered south up the Reese-River, which most would consider a creek in a high-water year. We both liked exploring “back-roads & ghost towns” and expected to find some on our way.

Around Austin, we found more remote roads and trended south to the ghost-towns of Ione & Berlin, visited the state park with Ichthyosaur skeletons, and very late in the afternoon, headed west towards Hawthorne for the closest gas, food, and lodging. I knew Hawthorne was a little redneck shithole and home to a huge anmunition depot, but it was a cold & windy March night and we didn't have the gas to make a more desirable destination.

As darkness crept in, the fuel gauge on our trusty, 1st generation Subaru crept down.

A few miles south of Hawthorne, both intersected at zero: and I coasted our dead Subaru over onto the shoulder of Hwy. 95.

We could see the ammunition bunkers in the last light, and the twinkling lights of nearby, but oh so far-away Hawthorne were beckoning us in. I decided it would be safer to leave my wife (long-since-ex-wife) Jennifer with the car, guarding it and herself, with my trusty Smith & Wesson 22 pistol, while I hitched to Hawthorne for gas.

Nearly the first car by, stopped to pick me up. The driver was a sober businessman, who wanted to know what I was up to. He would not leave without my wife and me both in his car.

He explained: “you just don’t want to leave your woman alone on Highway 95.”

He hauled us into downtown Hawthorne without incident, dropped us at a gas station, and I was able to get a 2 gallon can borrowed and filled with gas, but not a ride back to my car.

We stood out on the street with thumbs-out for quite a while. The ex-wife got irritated and cold. (was that the beginning of the end?)

After a long while, I noticed a car-full of Indians looking us over. No surprise. It had not escaped me that Hawthorne was also adjacent to a Paiute Reservation, and the ex-wife was an anthropologist.

The Indians pulled up on their next pass by us in their 1960’s land-yacht. I trotted over as the passenger side window came down, and noted two men in the front-seat and several older women and some kids in the huge back seat.

They wanted to know where I was hitching to. I explained. The window rolled up, while the men and the women discussed this among themselves.

The window rolled down. The male on my side said:
“We’ll take you out to your car, but we’re thirsty.”

I replied: “Can I buy you good folks something to drink?”

After a pause, they allowed that a couple six-packs of beer would make them less thirsty.

I said: “I’ll buy some right-now for you!” “I am most grateful for you giving us a ride.“ “My name is Ray, and I want you to meet my wife Jennifer!”

I walked over to Jennifer, who was slumped against a light-post, explained the situation to her, barked “go make friends,” and walked back to the service station to buy beer.

All went smoothly. I think between women, kids, and me, there were 9 of us in the back seat for the drive out to our car. One of the women confessed to Jennifer that the only reason they stopped to pick us up, was because they thought she was pregnant. Jennifer had a big down parka on, and was slumped over in misery, when they first drove by.

I’ve never forgotten the debt I owe those folks.
Spider Savage

Mountain climber
The shaggy fringe of Los Angeles
Feb 17, 2013 - 11:24pm PT
Lived in a 1950 Chevy truck for 9 months when I was 19. Built the camper myself for less than $100. Less than $300 in the whole rig. Traveled the Pacific Northwest and had some amazing adventures.

Spider on the road.
Spider on the road.
Credit: Spider Savage

Boulder climber
Somewhere on 395
Feb 18, 2013 - 12:48am PT
Tonopah not that bad. Back in the seventies I slept in the dirt behind the rock shop.
Wind? In Tonopah, pfft! Worst wind I've been in Nevada was in Wells.
Word to the wise. Don't pick up people in the white mountains. Especially if they're on a vision quest
Messages 41 - 60 of total 77 in this topic << First  |  < Previous  |  Show All  |  Next >  |  Last >>
Return to Forum List
Post a Reply
Our Guidebooks
Check 'em out!
SuperTopo Guidebooks

Try a free sample topo!

SuperTopo on the Web

Recent Route Beta
Recent Gear Reviews