So Long Old Friend

So Go And Follow Your Way And I Will Follow Mine
Take It To The Limit But Don’t Cross The Line



Yakima Valley, Washington
Aug. 12, `72

I didn't want to arrive in Seattle on a weekend. I needed a business
day to apply for a job at the university. I remembered that Connie,
back in Victoria, had told us that China Beach was a good place to
camp. It was just a little tricky getting to it. If you missed the
small sign at the turn off, you also missed China Beach. We left Old
Smoke in the parking area and walked along a wooded trail for about a
mile. Connie was right. The beach was ideal and accessible. There were
people camping there, but that wasn't a problem. There was plenty of
room on the beach, and we even managed to share some beers with some
N.Y.C. teachers who were also camping. The weather wasn't very
hospitable, but I took an ice cold bath in the ocean anyway.

Aug. 16

In Victoria we caught a Ferry to Seattle. Once there, we got back in
touch with the West Coast Trail chicks, and, over the phone, they
said, "Sure, come on over." Mike and I, after eating tacos at a
restaurant, showed up at the girls' house. They were still
entertaining their four Berkeley friends. Everybody sat around
drinking wine and reminiscing about the "perils of the trail." At the
end of the evening, there was enough floor space for Mike and I to
roll out our sleeping bags.

The next day I went to the University of Washington and tried to get
a job. It was the same old story, "Sorry, we aren't hiring." With that
piece of predictable news we jumped into Old Smoke and headed
southeast. When we came to the fruit laden valley of Yakima, it was
time to say goodbye. It was a little hard. Our roles had reversed.
Originally, I had been the one who intended to stay out west. As I
watched Old Smoke's taillights disappear down the country road, I
wondered when I would get to see my good friend again. It was picking
season in Washington, and jobs were plentiful. Mike was on his way to
try his luck at picking apples. I, on the other hand, put on my
hitchhiking face and hunkered down for the long haul. I turned to the
highway that stretched out before me, and stuck out my thumb. The
cars, one after the other, swished by me, just like when they had done
it a thousand times before.