Got as far southeast as Kentucky, as far northeast as the Great Lakes states. To this day, one of my favorite touring areas is the upper Midwest: the Dakotas, Minnesota, northern Nebraska and eastern Montana. Lots of small towns, many of which actively invite one to camp for free in the town park, often with the municipal swimming pool right there to cool off after a hot day's riding. In the evenings, tent up, dinner under way, moving slowly and calmly; one would encounter other like-minded travelers or local families wondering who you were and what had brought you to their little town. It was on this particular trip that I learned to spend an hour or so in small local libraries, catching up on news from local and national papers and shooting the breeze with the librarian, who usually had plenty of time to talk. I'd always ask about local history and if there were any sights to see. The air conditioning was also welcome on hot humid days. He,she, or they would almost always point me to something that I would have missed had I just cruised through, even with my eyes open. To this day, that month or so was one of my best remembered trips; minimum miles per day; maximum relaxation and enjoyment.

Still, I did have a date to meet my friend Paul, in LA, as we were going to do the next leg of the trip together; so in early August I arrived in Los Angeles, quite rested and ready for a different kind of tour. Paul is an old high-school friend, he was in college during my Army time and during the tour. He had 28 days to travel with me and would be packing on the back of Strider. Increasingly important, he also had funds to help share costs. As often is the case, ones' miles/costs/funds available estimates does not reflect the reality of the planned journey. Such was the case with my trip. Paul's company, and his money, was welcome.

We had planned to run up the coast to Vancouver, BC, run East on the Trans-Canadian Highway to Nova Scotia and down the east coast to New York, where he would catch a flight back to California to go back to college.

This was a blitz-tour, we figured we had 28 days to cover 8,000 miles. The coast of California, Oregon and Washington were covered on a several days. We managed to stay with friends every night as they traveled north. We did get some sight seeing in as we moved along. We spent a couple of hours in Portland, looking for what had, at one time been the longest bar in the US. It was originally a city block square, one of the turn-of-the century free lunch saloons, now down to a hole in the wall place called "the Working Man's Club". Alas, it had vanished to urban renewal a few years earlier, as we were informed by an amused local. On to Seattle/Tacoma/Ft. Lewis; where I had done Basic Training and then returned for a 40 week medic/nursing training period,prior to going overseas. Still had friends in the area, so we spent a luxurious two days there. Tried to talk Paul, unsuccessfully, into enlarging the exchequer a bit by selling blood plasma, at one of my old haunts in Tacoma. He chose to wait by the bike with a book. Two hours later, $5 to the good, we were on our way to Canada.

Crossing the border was a bit of a challenge. In 1973, Canada was getting a little tired of American poverty-stricken freaks bumming around their country. We looked like we might be of the upper end of that particular social spectrum, so we had to show our money as we processed through with the Mounties. After being asked some rather personal questions, regarding our enjoyment of certain herbal smokables ("No, sir, I wouldn't touch the stuff"), we finally were allowed through. On to Vancouver.

Canada, in 1973, was a vagabonds' paradise. Unemployment was fairly high there at that time, and many of the above mentioned poverty stricken freaks were Canadian citizens. The result was there was a large population of hitchhiking young people on all the roads. The Canadian Government had, in a burst of enlightenment, decided to provide a few jobs, and provide a place for these folks to shelter. The result was a system of Government Youth Hostels throughout the country. Cost: $0.50 (Canadian) to stay the night. I had stumbled upon this system on my way up to Alaska and had the Govt. issue guide pamphlet for planning out stops. I've never encountered anything like those places since then. Every night was a party, I remember one hostel, a setup of mobile homes, circled on the prairie outside Regina, like a covered wagon train, with a fire in the middle. There was a sign by the entrance, that listed the rules: No drugs, no alcohol, no weapons. Piled against the signpost was a stack of Canadian beer twelve pack stubbies, awaiting being returned at the package store. Kind of established the spirit of THAT place!. Lots of people spending the summer just hanging out in Canada. What with hitchhiking, staying in the hostels (breakfast and, sometimes dinner, was included for your $.50); one could have a VERY cheap summer. A fair number of US draft dodgers were hanging out, as the war, and the draft were still on. A few US 'Nam Vets were part of the scene as well. Made for spirited but friendly fire side conversations in the evenings.

Paul and I FLEW across the Trans-Canadian Highway, ever mindful of the need to be in New York for his flight home. This part of the trip is a little blurry, with memories of castles (being used as hostels) in Quebec, excellent birch beer in Montreal, The beauty (and August cold) of the Canadian Rockies in Jasper/Banff, the lunar landscape of the smelter region of Sudbury, the l-o-n-g road over Lake Superior through Thunder Bay and Wawa (named for the calls of geese) and the tide rushing in at the Bay of Fundy. The hostels all shut down on Labor Day, so we were in one on our last night in Canada. That particular one woke up the sleepers EVERY morning, all summer by playing the Beatles' "GOOD MORNING" song. The last morning, one of the staff, having listened to it every morning all summer, as it finished; tore it off the turntable and sent it sailing across the sleeping area.

Down through Maine and New England to New York. Stayed with a friend of Paul's who was attending Columbia and living in Harlem. Chained up the bike REAL WELL, for two days and nights, no losses or problems. Did a bit of sight-seeing in the Big Apple, and put Paul on his plane. I crossed the river to New Jersey and stayed with an aunt and sort of caught my breath, after the last 30 days. I was beat, totally exhausted and, upon doing the books and maps, pretty broke. The rest of the trip, the East coast, the South and the last leg home would have a very different flavor--The Poverty Tour.

To be continued.... Matt Parkhouse