Thursday, February 9th, 2012
Where the hell am I? After it gets dark, it all starts to look the same. This is different than starting in the dark, because now I'm tired and kinda dopey. When I start, I tend to be more awake, so the dark is more fascinating. Having just driven through the “S-curve National Forest”, I'm happy to be parked for the night, civilization in sight.
I awoke this morning, not knowing what was going on. In Many ways, that was a huge bonus. It means I got to sleep in a bit. Rising much later than usual, I ate last night's leftovers for breakfast (salty spiced fish with a smidge of mashed potatoes and white gravy) out of the styrofoam box I stashed them in. I've found that environmental concerns somewhat diminish when you take up this lifestyle. So much to the point of overcompensation whenever I'm not driving. You have to make it a point to not get a plastic bag for that one item at the C-store.
So after a leisurely breakfast and more banjo practice (I've almost got the Basic breakdown memorized!) I called in to see what was going on, since nothing came over the computer while I was asleep. Well, nothing relevant to what I needed to know. After a warily brief wait, I spoke with some people, and was instructed to stand by. So I stood by. Sat by would be more accurate. Then the instructions came. “Take the load back to shipper.” Whoosh! into action.
Before acting though, I messaged them asking, “then what?” knowing full well that it would take them the hour and fifteen minutes of travel time to answer that. Well, I was wrong. They didn't know when I got there. The mill workers knew somehow, but my dispatchers had no clue. While I waited, i visited the driver's facilities. A simple heated building, with microwave, a toilet and a phone. Not all in the same room, thankfully. There were some magazines on the microwave, and since I was going to do some business, and I'm a sterotypical guy in that way, I wanted something to read. Its like my brain hungers for printed material while in the john. Well, it turns out that all of the magazines on the microwave, are in fact pornographic. Some still in the plastic wrapper, all of them of the same title.
That came as a bit of a shock, especially considering that this is a public place. Nevermind that there are more and more lady drivers (well, female drivers) out there these days. I wonder what their take on this would be. Forgoing the reading material, I take care of business and get back to business.
I find out that they'll be trans-loading the entire load, meaning taking it off one trailer and putting it onto another, the next door over. After some bumping and jostling, I switch trailers and go through the motions of making it all legal and so forth. Whoosh! Down the road I go. (if going 60 mph counts as a whoosh).
Since the load is now due on the 14th, the planners decided to drop it off some where. More to the point, to have me drop it off, in Sparks, NV. This is cool. Mostly because I'm still not going down I-5, and I get to ride the back roads down US 95 instead of US 97. Today I passed through Salmon River Canyon in Idaho. I swear that this place came out of one of my dreams. Would that I could remember the context for that dream. There is nothing in the world so spectacular as being dwarfed by towering sheer rock faces.
Coming out of the canyon, the road starts to wind up hill. By this time, the sun was not long gone, and a light rain began. The lovely, smooth road eventually dwindled to little more than a two lane paved cow path. Sharp turns with no shoulder, no white line. The truck rocked back and forth around the corners. Any opposing traffic veered dangerously close, for fear of falling off the other side. If you look in a trucker's atlas, this part of the route is NOT a designated truck route. I now understand why. The state requires you to get a suicide permit to travel these roads. They call it an “overlength permit” technically, but suicide is more accurate. So I climbed up into the snowy bits. Honestly I was a bit shocked that it was raining this high up, in Idaho, in early February. Seriously not right. I told myself I wouldn't stop until I started going down hill. After a small ton and the “S curve National Forest,” I found an old weigh station to park at. It isn't a truck stop, so no bathrooms, but also no idling trucks next to you. Or the smell of diesel fumes as you walk to the restrooms. Yeah, good and bad, but mostly better. Off to bed.
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