So in the summer of 1967 me and a group of friends decide to hitchhike to the Grand Canyon. Hike down from the south rim to the Colorado river and then hike up the north side and then hitchhike home. Now I had done a fair amount of camping by this time around Tahoe so I had all the gear and felt up to the challenge. We planned for about a one and a half week to two week trip, give or take.
There were six of us, all with our back packs stuffed full with food and a few changes of clothes. We split up into pairs figuring it would be easier to get rides. My dad dropped me and my friend Bill Scheffel off in front of Barney's casino with our packs and high expectations for what lay ahead.
We had our thumbs out and in no time a beat up old station wagon pulls over. We put our packs in the back; I sit in the front seat with Bill taking the back seat. The driver is a woman with frizzed out hair dressed in a tank top and dirty Levis; kind of a dirty biker hippy chick. I suddenly notice a strong smell and then we hear a baby crying. She's got her little boy in a cardboard box in the back and he had pooped his pants. Bill offered to change the kids diaper if she would pull over but she said no...everything is fine. God it stunk.
This "Lady" was something else. She stopped in Carson City to buy a quart of Southern Comfort and started drinking as we weaved down the the road. The good part was that she was going to Las Vegas so that covered a lot of ground on our way to the Grand Canyon. Looking back on it now she reminds me of Janis Joplin. She gave us a ride all the way to the outskirts of Henderson which is a suburb adjacent to Vegas.
So thumbs out again but this time the first car to stop is a police car. Two cops get out and inform us it's illegal to hitchhike in Nevada. This we did not know about when we started our journey. So the two cops start in on the classic good cop, bad cop routine. The big mean cop makes us empty out our back packs and starts going through all our stuff. He comes across a bag of instant pancake mix in my pack. He does the old "Dragnet" TV routine and dips his finger in the pancake mix, tastes it, and says it might be drugs. Just then a second cop car pulls up just as the mean cop was threatening to take me to juvenile hall. The new cop seemed to have some authority over the other two and ordered them to leave. The new cop tells us to re-pack our stuff and get in his car.
Well this new cop is great ! He asks where we're from where we're going and some other stuff. He says, "You kids want to have some fun?" "Uh, sure," I reply. He turns on the siren and the flashing lights and floors that sucker. I mean we were rocketing down that two lane road, cars pulling over as this cop is sliding that big old Dodge around corners with the tires screeching and the siren wailing. I was holding on for dear life as I heard Bill in the back seat repeatedly shout, "Oh my god! Oh my god!" In a short time we were at Lake Mead and the cop pulls down this dirt road to the lake shore. He tells us this isn't really a legal camp spot but a lot of people come here to party and we should be safe here.
The cop leaves and Bill and I roll out our sleeping bags. As if on cue a Volkswagen bus pulls up full of hippies with jugs of cheap wine and the heavy scent of marijuana emanating from the van. We all introduce our selves and as the sky grows dark and the stars come out, the hippies share their wine and start swimming in the dank dirty waters that make up Lake Mead. I wade into the smelly water and one of the hippies sidles up next to me and says, "Do you know there's leeches in here?" I sprang out of the water that passes for a lake in Nevada and ran for the shore. Don't want no leeches on me!
Bill and I got up early the next morning and hiked back up to the highway. Through a succession of other rides we finally made it to our destination, the Grand Canyon! As luck would have it we got dropped off right by a grocery market that had a large bulletin board out front with a note from the rest of the group telling us which campsite they are at. Bill and I find the campsite and our friends sitting around the campfire.
We got up early the next morning to head into our descent of the canyon. If you've never been there, the Grand Canyon is quite a site to behold. Now I must admit, I was woefully unprepared for this trip. No tent, a small amount of food, and a little camping cook set with no camp stove (I planned to cook over a campfire), and some clean clothes.
As we started down the trail I sort of buddied up with Mark Loeffler who was the last in line. His feet hurt from his new hiking boots so we stopped to rest a lot. Pretty soon we were way behind the rest of the group. Mark and I could see the guys making their way down the switchback trail far down there to the first campsite. We finally catch up with the rest of the guys at camp. I start gathering firewood so we can cook some dinner. Just then a park ranger shows up and says, "No fires permitted in the canyon." Great! Now how are we going to cook our food? The ranger said they will be watching us and if they see a fire we are in big trouble. I ate some dried fruit and went to sleep. Some large lizards kept crawling over my sleeping bag waking me up.
The next morning we're up early to start the hike down to the canyon floor to a place called Phantom Ranch, a little snack bar and campground nestled amongst some trees with a little stream running through it. They run tours out of here where you ride mules and they serve you meals and give you the history of the canyon while saddled up.
Once again Mark and I find ourselves way behind the rest of the guys. We cross a small stream that looks to be a tributary to the bigger stream at the ranch. We make the decision to leave the trail and follow the stream thereby saving time and less hiking. Big mistake.
Started out harmless enough, just walking along the sides of this stream, then it was joined by other little streams. We started sliding down the river beds of polished rock on our butts, soaking our packs and ourselves in the process. We'd land into a little pond and then slide down the next natural water slide into the next pond. This was repeated many times until we got to one pond and looked over the edge. A huge waterfall with sheer cliffs all around. We could see Phantom Ranch from there but we couldn't get there. So we have to go back up the way we came..
This proved to be really challenging. The steep sides of the river bed afforded no hand holds so we couldn't just climb off to the sides to walk on land. We ended up with Mark climbing up me standing on my shoulders as I was getting soaked by the river pouring over me as he stood on my shoulders looking for any way to pull himself up and then stretch out his leg for me to pull myself up to where he was.
I really didn't think we were going to make it out of there. My arms were scraped and bleeding from the rocks and I was exhausted from little sleep and very little food. Mark was a good positive force, telling me, "Bob, we HAVE to do this. We can't give up!" It was really hard but we finally made it back to the trail.
As we stumble along the trail we see a little grove of trees along side a dried up creek bed. We decide to sit under the trees in the shade and take a break. I'm just kind of mindlessly walking when something makes me look down. Right where I was about to step is a coiled up rattlesnake. I've never jumped so high or so fast in my life! I yell for Mark who was behind me a ways. "Snake, snake!" I shout. He comes running up with his machete drawn. Now why he had this big knife strapped to his belt the whole time I don't know, but I was glad he had it at that moment. I grabbed a broken tree branch from the ground and walk cautiously back to the snake. We decide to just leave the thing be rather risk getting bitten.
We sit on a rock in the shade of some trees and try to make some sense of all this. We are wet, tired, hungry, and maybe a little scared. As we talk in this dry creek bed we hear a faint rustling in the dead leaves on the ground. We turn to look what this is and it's a large rattlesnake heading right towards us. We grab our packs and run like hell to get out of there.
A couple hours later we finally stagger into the campsite at Phantom Ranch. We don't bother to check in; just roll out our still damp bags and fall into a deep sleep. The next morning we find out through talking with other campers that the rest of our group had already moved on when we didn't show up the day earlier. Mark and I need some rest so we get a guy to buy us a six pack of beer from the little store as we aren't even close to being of legal drinking age. We gather some rocks from the shore of the stream and make a little dam so we had our own little swimming hole. So there we are floating in in our little pool, maybe 3 feet deep sipping on a cold beer. Then these little fish start nibbling at our toes. Not painful mind you; it actually felt kinda good. Just eating the dead skin I guess.
The next day we get an early start on hiking out of there. I'm feeling a little weak from not eating much so the hike out was kind of hard. We finally get to the top of the north rim and make our way to the campground. It's full as it's the 4th of July. We wander around and find a group of girls who say we can camp with them. Turns out they're nurses on a road trip vacation. They clean up my wounds and feed us a nice hot meal.
The next morning I awake and all I can think about was going home . Mark on the other hand wants to keep going, he wants to hitchhike to Yellowstone. I was about out of money and food so I really wanted to go home. I find a couple that was leaving for Vegas that morning and they said they would let me ride along. A strange couple in a souped up car. The guy was kinda sleazy and the girl seemed to be afraid of him. They drop me off right on the strip as they were going to one of the casinos. I walk a long way to the end of town and find a little motel and walk in to the office. I go to rent a room but I don't have enough money. The lady at the front desk lets me use the phone to call home. My mom says she can wire me some money but the lady tells me the Western Union office is way back in town and probably closed by now. Also my mom tells me they are going on vacation and won't be home when I get back.
Well it turns out the lady felt sorry for me and gave me a room for free. The few dollars I had left I spent at a nearby convenience store buying chips, dip, and some soda. I got up real early the next morning, showered and put on my last pair of clean clothes. Levis and a purple surfer shirt. If you don't remember surfer shirts they were a t-shirt with broad horizontal stripes in two colors going all the way around. I wanted to look my best and was hoping to make it all the way home on this day.
I stick out my thumb and after a little bit a car stops. I climb in and it's a middle aged guy on his way to work. I ask him where he works and he says a military base. I'm thinking this is kind of odd as there is nothing out there for as far as you could see. Plus, he wasn't wearing a uniform. He pulls over and there's a dirt road that runs through the desert and says this is where he goes to work. I get out and watch his car leave a plume of dust in the air as he drives the one lane dirt road. Area 51? Good possibility.
Well now I'm really in the middle of nowhere. No traffic, no shade, no nothing. Finally a car pulls up and stops. The driver is very odd and creepy. A very large round head with some taped up glasses. He speaks in a high falsetto voice with a lisp. I didn't know who Truman Capote was at the time but that's kind of what he looked and sounded like. We go along for several miles and I'm definitely not liking this. There is something seriously wrong with this guy. All of a sudden the right front tire has a blowout. Truman Capote starts screaming but manages to get this junker of a car to the side of the road. He gets out and doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to change a tire and doesn't know if he has a spare. I unlock the trunk and amongst all the junk in there I find an old bald spare and a rusty jack and lug wrench. I get the jack under the car and start loosening the lug nuts. Just then I hear a car coming up the road. I figure this is my chance to escape. I grab my pack from the back seat and flag down this old guy in a pick up. The weirdo with the flat tire is screaming for me to come back. He starts to run after the truck but the old guy drives away and asks, "What was that all about?" I tell him the guy was a creep and I just needed to get away.
This guy is sort of an old cowboy, he tells me he's only going as far as Goldfield . We talked and I remember him being very nice and a little concerned that someone so young was hitchhiking all by my lonesome out in the middle of Nevada. We get to Goldfield which is a town about two blocks long. A small general store, a gas station, some old boarded up buildings, and not much else. The old cowboy stops in front of the store and we walk in together. He talks with the lady at the counter as I walk around the store. The cowboy introduces me to the lady, her name is Millie. I thank the old cowboy for the ride and Millie gives me an apple and an orange.
She tells me to stay there for a little bit and then I can hitchhike from in front of her store. Her intuition was right, as we were talking the weirdo with the flat tire pulls up. She tells me to go to the back of the store and go into the storage room. I hurry back there just as Mr. Creepy comes in. He asks her has she seen a blond boy wearing a purple striped shirt. She says no and if he's not going to buy anything he has to leave. He drives away and Millie says the coast is clear. So I put my thumb out, standing in front of Millie's store, there's very little traffic. Finally, a guy stops in a newer orange station wagon. Before I can even open the door Millie runs out and talks to the driver. She gives me the okay sign and I get in.
This guy tells me he is a delivery person for printed photos and part of his route is on the north shore of Tahoe, Kings Beach, Tahoe City, and Incline Village. This is great news. At least I can make it to the top of Spooner Summit before he turns off to North Shore. We talked alot. I told him of my adventure and he tells me about his kids. We get to where he's supposed to turn to go around the lake but he just keeps right on driving down Hwy 50. He says, "Bob, I'm going to drive you right to your house." This guy is really nice and he reminded me of Ward Cleaver from the old Leave it to Beaver TV series.
Just as he said, he drove me right to the front door of my parents house on the corner of Glennwood and Pioneer, he waited in the driveway until I unlocked the door and waved to him everything was all right. What a kind thing for him to do. He went way out of his way to make sure I was okay.
I get inside and drop my pack to the floor and walk into the kitchen. There on the table is a note from my Mom telling me where they were and when they'd be back. Also that while I was gone my Schwinn Varsity 10 speed bike had been stolen. Bummer! But at least I was home and the refrigerator was full of food. I ate so much that evening I made myself sick.
I didn't really hitchhike much after that. My trip only lasted about 10 days but it felt much longer. I met all kinds of people and for the most part they were very kind. I got a job at the end of that summer washing dishes at a Mexican restaurant. I made enough to buy another bike, a better one than I originally had.
I leaned a lot on this little trip. Some people are truly kind and generous and will go out of their way to help someone. But unfortunately there's lots of kooks, weirdos, and people out there that want to hurt you. So be careful and take care and if you don't have to, don't hitchhike!
Bob
