Everyone gets off the whale watching tour and congratulates me on finding another excellent site seeing experience. My unofficial role has been social coordinator for the trip. Sarah, the tour guide, admitted at our second stop that the bus company hadn't updated their list of things to do in years. That had been enough to kick me into research mode.

My quality, service, and cost triangle became the gold standard for me, Colin, and Esther. It didn't take long for the other passengers to clue into the great experiences we were having that had nothing to do with the suggestions the tour company was making.

But cost is relative. What felt like not much or well worth it for Esther, Colin, and the rest of my fellow bussers, has been slowly eating into money I expected to last me a lot longer than two weeks. I might have gotten a bit too carried away with finding great experiences for everyone else and forgetting that small budget detail. I do not have unlimited cash or a well-funded 401K to draw from.

At Esther and Colin's insistence, we're sharing a cab to the closest regional airport. Once we get there, I'll have to do some of my best acting work. They're taking a return flight to Vancouver, but I can't afford that plane or any other. My original plan to rent a car went up in smoke within the first week, but now I have to consider the most cost-efficient option to get anywhere.

"What time did you say your flight to the Yukon is?" Esther asks as we haul our bags out of the trunk of the cab at the terminal.

The airport is smaller than I expected, and I'm not sure if I can avoid being honest or if I'll end up purchasing a ticket I can't afford to save face.

"Sweetheart," Colin says, checking his watch. "We're running behind. If we don't get checked in, they won't let us on the plane."

"Oh, shoot." She draws me into a tight hug. "Enjoy your adventure. I hope you find whatever you're looking for. Keep shining bright, my girl."

I breathe in her peach and vanilla scent, and I close my eyes. For the last two weeks, I've known I could rely on them and everyone else on the bus. Once she and Colin go through the terminal doors, I'll be on my own.

Then she draws away, and she and Colin are scrambling for their bags, waving frantic goodbyes, and the automatic doors close behind him.

The cab pulls away from the curb, and I'm left with my oversized backpack and my smaller daypack. With a deep breath, I situate the smaller bag on my front, and then I hoist the larger bag on my back.

Maybe if I go to arrivals, someone will take pity on me and deliver me somewhere further east of here.

In a big airport, it's easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle. Everyone is too busy hurrying to their own destination to worry about where you're headed. This place is the opposite. Not that anyone talks to me, but I wander around enough that people are giving me strange looks.

"You lost, miss?" A black car has pulled up to the curb, and an older white man is leaning across the passenger seat to yell at me through the open window.

"Not lost," I hedge, and I try to gauge based on the newer model of car and his clean appearance whether he's a serial killer.

"Where you headed?"

"East."

"Don't take a ride from Sam," the female security guard who has appeared behind me says. "He's a perv." She waves to him. "Move along, Sam."

The car speeds away from the curb, and I say, "Shouldn't you tell someone about him?"

"I have." She grimaces. "But you need more than a gut instinct and some whispered rumors. I saw you wandering around. Noticed he'd circled a few times. Figured he'd try his luck." She eyes me. "Are you lost?"

"No. Broke." I try to shrug with both backpacks on, and I can't quite manage it.

"My shift is over in an hour. If you want to wait around, I can give you a ride as far as Selma Island."

"That's east?"

"That's east." She lets out a little chuckle. "Not the sort of highway you want to be hitchhiking on, though."

"I have bear spray," I say, drawing it out of the side pocket of my bag. Easy access in case of emergencies.

"It's not bears you need to worry about." She glances at her watch. "Meet me here in an hour.

The bear spray wasn't just for bears, but she's offering me a ride which is exactly what I've been hoping for, so I don't see the point in arguing. Once we get to whatever town she's from, I'll reassess and try to avoid the Sams of the world.

~ * ~

My security guard savior is driving an SUV with a kayak attached to the roof. This has become a common sight in British Columbia during the last few weeks. People here seem to be constantly out in nature—hiking, biking, kayaking, and just about every other thing you can imagine doing in the great outdoors.

As we drive along the highway, Tallulah peppers me with questions about my trip, my family, and where I'm headed.

"Your best bet is Prince George," she says. "But it's hours from here. I can drop you in a village. You can catch a local bus for pretty cheap."

"How cheap?" I mentally count the money in my wallet along with what's in my Canadian bank account that I opened before coming here. Convert all my cash at once and save on exchange rates. Seemed like a good plan, but it also made that money extremely accessible to my impulsive tourist desires.

"A few bucks," she says. "Cheap."

"Yeah," I say. "Okay. That's better than my non-plan." Since she's a local, she must know what she's talking about, and I need to conserve my phone data for true emergencies.

"I'll drop you just before I get to Selma Island."

"Perfect," I say.

~ * ~

She drops me off at a covered bus hut not far from the highway's main artery. Before I can check the schedule, she's zooming away. Fair, I suppose. She did save my ass twice already—with Sam and then by giving me a free ride.

But when I peer at the different schedules posted, it doesn't take me long to realize the bus doesn't come through today. Tomorrow evening is the next scheduled stop here.

I stare at the smattering of houses and lone corner store. Not a hotel, motel, or hostel in sight. From where I'm standing, the highway's passing traffic is visible, and every once in a while, I can hear the burr of a transport truck. 

Not abundant activity on this stretch, but surely there'd be someone who came along who didn't give me creepy vibes to drive me to the nearest motel or hostel. Night will be falling soon, and I don't want to sleep rough in the tiny bus shelter.

I take in the metal benches and the thick plastic overhead that would keep out at least some of the elements. What's better? Hitchhiking or attempting to sleep here?

A guy stumbles out of the convenience store, an oversized can of beer clutched in his hand. He leers at me before taking a couple of wobbling strides in my direction.

Decision made. Drunk guy tipped the scales. Staying here no longer feels like a marginally safe option.

Before he can get to me, I turn and stride toward the onramp for the highway. Hitchhiking it is. Anyone who stops, I can always say no if I get a creeper vibe. There's bound to be one good one.

~ * ~

After I decline a ride from the third vehicle that's stopped, I start to wonder whether I'm being too picky or overly cautious. They'd all been middle-aged men who'd been friendly enough, but in each instance, I'd pretended they weren't heading in my direction. Since east is my only direction—the one they were traveling in—I'm clearly a liar.

When I was younger, I hitchhiked through Europe, but that was with a friend. This is the first time I've felt this uncertain about choosing a lift, but it's also the first time I've been alone, forced to trust my own instincts. Given how my impulsivity has gotten me into sticky situations before, I'm reluctant to trust my gut. 

My gut likes everyone, and unlike my sister, Paige, I also have this burning desire to be liked. Love and friendship have come easily to me, and I'm forcing myself to give these people a critical eye before climbing in. Safety first! Having never been overly critical before, being certain is proving harder than I thought.

Dusk is on the horizon, and if I don't make a decision soon, I'll be on the side of a major highway, thumb out, and in dark colored clothes. Sounds like a recipe for being mowed down by a distracted driver.

I'm not naïve enough to believe that everyone who stops for me is well intentioned or won't try to convince me that I need to pay them in some way for the ride they provide. But I have bear spray, and a phone that I can use, even if I'm reluctant to pay the connection fees.

I roll my shoulders and hop on my toes, psyching myself up. A ride to the nearest town with a hotel. That's all I need.

In hindsight, I should have forked out the money for a bus back in Prince Rupert to take me to a larger place where I might have some options of where to stay. There's no telling how expensive wherever I end up might be. 

Sleeping in the streets this early in my trip seems like a recipe for disaster, and it's also unnecessary. I have money. Maybe I'll have to get a job to make some cash under the table to survive for the entire six months.

When I was younger, living on the edge like this was fun. Never any idea of what was around the corner. Things worked out as if by magic, and it used to drive Paige insane that I could be so reckless and still be lucky. My grand Canadian adventure might turn out okay for me this time too, but there's a pessimistic outline to my thoughts that I've never had before.

Almost as though I feel too old to be doing this.

That can't be it. On my other trips, I've had other people around. The solitude is the issue, not my age.

I rub my face and take a deep breath. Exhaustion settles across my shoulders, making my pack weigh more than it has so far. After a good night's sleep, my non-plan will seem fine again.

Safety and rest. That's all I need to flip my ho-hum attitude on its head.

A car signals and pulls off the road ahead, and I turn on my heel, determined to accept a ride if whoever this is seems remotely decent. 

Sorry it's a bit late. I lost track of my days and then the internet was down here. I wonder whether it'll be help or trouble pulling over on the side of the road? Hmm...

Update: Friday

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