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c h aP t e r 17

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fter the Whole Life Expo, I made my way via the public tran-
sit system from San Jose north back to Ukiah and stayed
with my mom and step-dad once again, while I geared up
for my next adventure. I was planning a two-week backpacking trip
on the Lost Coast—a rugged wilderness area in Northern California,
and the longest stretch of coastline in the continental United States
without a road alongside it. Although it was virtually in the backyard
of my hometown (an hour or so away) I had never been there before.
I figured it was about time I checked it out. Besides, it sounded like a
good place for some spiritual exploration and contemplation.
After spending a few days doing some work around my mom’s
place to make a few bucks and then getting prepared for my journey,
I packed up and hitchhiked from Ukiah north on Highway 101 to the
small town of Garberville at the southern end of Humboldt County.
From there, I headed west over to Shelter Cove on the coast.
During my many years of getting around via hitchhiking, I’ve
come to have something of a love-hate relationship with it. There
are times—standing in the same spot for most of a day in the pour-
ing rain, while spacious cars whiz by, warm and dry—that make me
curse all of humanity, feeling like we’re a lost cause if we can’t even
help each other out when we have the means to do so. When pushed
beyond the limits of my patience, I can get so fed up that I seem to
enter an altered state of consciousness, in which I lose my desire to
hold myself within the normal social limits. As I realize that it’s going
to be a long while, if ever, until I get a ride, I’ll start dancing around
alongside the road, making silly faces at passing automobiles, jump-
ing up and down in a wild frenzy, hiding behind my backpack with