It
wasn’t long after we reached the highway that a car slowed down and pulled
over. We ran up to where the driver
stopped and asked if he was going to the Tri Cities. He indicated he was and motioned for us to
get in. As we rode along he clarified
that he was going to stop in Richland for a few minutes and then he would be going
on to Ellensburg. He asked where we were
going and explained
we were on our way back to college in
Cheney. If you would like you can ride
to Ellensburg with me he offered. That
put us on the main freeway across the state therefore it should be good hitch
hiking, so we accepted his offer.
The stop in Richland was just
long enough for us to get fast food at a drive-in close to where the driver
stopped. We offered to buy him something
too, but he declined saying he had a special dinner waiting for him in Ellensburg. The highway from Try Cities to Ellensburg ran
through Yakima following the Yakima River most of the way. It had been designated as a Scenic Highway
and was beautiful in the spring of the year with all of the trees leafing
out. I believe they were cottonwoods.
The afternoon was catching up
when we got out on the shoulder of the highway at Ellensburg. It felt like familiar territory as I had
traveled this highway before when I visited Dad and just last year when I went
home with Tom Plant. We thanked the
driver and he wished us good luck, and then sped away. It looked as if we might have a long wait for
a ride, but a fellow in a somewhat beat up old car stopped. We looked at each other and climbed in. That was a mistake. He said he was working in the “Basin” and
could take us as far as Moses Lake which sounded alright. The Basin referred to the large expanse of
arid land in the center of the state that was being developed as farm land,
after water for irrigation was made available.
Grand Coulee dam had created Lake Roosevelt and extensive pump stations
were built to lift water from the lake to a network of canals and ditches all
over the Basin. I recall grandpa talking
about it when the water became available.
The volcanic ash soil would grow anything when watered. There was a boom in farming going on in that
area.
The obvious smell of booze
soon became evident from our driver. We
should have asked him to stop and let us out, but it was getting late and we
needed to keep traveling before dark.
After the highway traveled east for 25miles it approaches the rim of a
canyon that the Columbia River flows through.
The road twisted and turned sharply as it descended into the river
valley. We were watching the driver
closely and clutching our seats incase he should drive off the road. He did cut some of the corners close and used
a portion of the oncoming lane to negotiate some curves. It was a white knuckle ride, and we were
relieved when he pulled over at the bottom of the canyon in the little village
of Vantage. He was looking for a bar
before starting up the other canyon wall to the Basin above. We let him wander into the bar and then we
bailed out, making a bee line to the near by highway. In a mater of minutes a car pulled onto the
highway from a nearby gas station. We
didn’t take long to get in when invited.
The driver was a young guy working in the Basin. He could take us a short distance from Moses
Lake where another highway branched off going to Grand Coulee. He kept up a lively chatter about all the
things he was doing on a large farm. He
was from the east coast and had never lived on a farm in his life. This was quite a contrast to our last driver. We relaxed.
The sun had gone down and
dusk was settling in. We were on the edge
of the highway several miles west of Moses Lake. The only building in the area was a lone convenience
store close to the intersection. Several
cars went by without a glance in our direction.
It was dark enough now that they didn’t see us or didn’t want to stop
under those conditions. We were in
trouble and still a long way from Cheney.
The clerk behind the counter
was reading a magazine when we walked in.
He looked up and gave us a reassuring assessment, “it’s too dark out
there to hitch a ride anymore tonight”. Boy
that was a real revelation! We asked him
how to get out of this situation and he calmly suggested we take the bus. It was due to stop there and drop off
packages soon. “No one comes in here at
this hour other than the bus and when it leaves so do I.” he stated. We had little choice but to ride the bus to
Cheney. We consulted a time table and
fare sheet to determine if we had enough money to buy tickets. Our finances when pooled were enough with a
little to spare. After we bought the
tickets we spent the rest on snacks that would be our dinner. The bus arrived on time and wasn’t crowded,
so we took separate seats with the intension of sleeping our way to Cheney. The bus was comfortable and there were no
more worries about getting back to the college on time. When we pulled onto the highway and the hum
of the motor settled down to a steady pitch it reminded me of my many rides on
the train.
All out for Cheney came
booming through my dream. I sat upright,
shaking the sleep from my head. I had
always worried about sleeping past my destination. We were approaching the bus terminal and I
noticed Dewey was awake too. The air was
crisp as we stepped to the street.
Several other passengers got off and the bus roared away in a cloud of
exhaust. As we walked up the hill to
Sutton Hall my thoughts flashed back to that first morning I arrived in
Cheney. There was that same sweet smell
from a species of trees in the area. It
was still dark and all the night birds were expressing satisfaction of their
conditions with coos and twitters. It
was like a welcoming committee for our home coming. It had been quite an adventure, but it was
good to be back.
*Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 1, Growing up in the country", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill
*Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 1, Growing up in the country", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill
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