Turning Point

Turning Point by Dorothy Case


I snuck into my parents’ apartment while they were in Fiji and gathered my most precious belongings: my silver flatware (my Mother was optimistic), my high school mementos, my typewriter, my desk and chair, the gold sampler blanket I knit, and other special clothes. It was Labor Day weekend and everything was closed on Monday, so I had to wait to take out all my money from the bank until Tuesday. I washed and braided my long honey colored hair. By the time the bank opened, I was all packed and ready to go.

When I bought the VW bus a few weeks earlier, it needed a paint job, so I asked if I could have it painted any color I wanted. They said yes! So I had it painted bright pink, the same color as the pink in my Marimeko flowered fabric that I lined the inside of the doors and cushions with as upholstery. My bus had a sink, refrigerator, portable toilet, and pull out bed, but no roof that lifted. Everything was crammed in so that I really couldn’t use it as a camper at all. At the last minute I was able to put two large picture frames in that had come from my Father’s office. I took out the ugly prints of birds and put in my prints of “Girl with a Watering Can” by Renoir, and “A Young Girl Reading” by Fragonard. Later, my Mother told me that the prints I threw away were original Audubon’s.

My former roommate lived in Chicago, and I was heading west. By Gary, Indiana, the alternator went out and I had to stay there for a couple days while they fixed it. I saw Mary Pat for awhile. She shopped with me for a tent and sleeping bag. Then I went off to see International Falls, MN. That had always been reported in the news in winter as having the coldest temperatures in the U.S., so for some reason I wanted to see it. I remember driving through billboards of cows and cheddar cheese advertisements.

At one point I realized I was close to Canada and thought why not just cross the border and drive West? Then I could cut down along the Banff Highway into Colorado. You see, I was looking for a Medical Technologist job near mountains. There are only small hills in Akron, Ohio where I grew up, and from where I was leaving, in spite of the fact that Akron means “high” in Greek. After living and working in Switzerland for two years, I had grown to love mountains. So mountains it was. My final destination I thought would be Boulder, Colorado, right in the middle of the Rockies. Even though it was September and I was heading North into Canada, the weather was perfect so far.

In the early 70’s, people picked up hitchhikers a lot. That was a common and accepted form of travel for people my age. I felt safe picking up hitchhikers. It was more interesting driving with someone to talk to. In Winnipeg, Manitoba, I saw three hitchhikers that looked promising. The first and second ones looked like they were girls because of their long hair. I was too fast and picked up the second one first. It was a “he”, not a “she”, and in spite of his thick head of blond curls and new backpack, he smelled like he hadn‘t bathed in weeks. I made a spur of the moment decision and said I saw a girl back there I wanted to pick up also, so I returned to pick up the first “girl” as insurance in case this guy got weird.

Well the second one was also a guy with long black hair, but he didn’t smell and we liked each other right away. His name was David. He was just out of college and was working for the government there in Winnipeg as an historian. He was on his way home to see his parents for a holiday week in Edmonton. I said I would be glad to take him there since it was on my way, even though it was three days drive from there. At each break on the drive, the two of us would talk and try to figure out how we could get rid of the smelly guy. Finally we ditched him at a camp site. We pitched our own tent and said there wasn’t any room for him and he hitched a ride with someone else. After that, David and I traveled just the two of us. He invited me to stay at his parents for a couple days, which I did. The Mall in Edmonton hadn’t been built yet, but he took me to see all the hydroelectric power towers it was then famous for.

We got along very well, physically and mentally. He could have been my soul mate. I will never know. I was determined to get to mountains and a resting spot, and Canada was not on my list. Obviously he was Canadian and would never be anywhere else, so we didn’t even pursue anything or even get each other’s addresses. I did a charcoal drawing of him, the only memento I have.

David steered me in the right direction toward Jasper Park, where I could stay at a campground and then head south down the Banff highway which is famous for being a scenic drive with mountains on either side and the way to Boulder.

In Jasper I found this huge campground where the ranger assigned me to a section with other people my age. The campers next to me invited me to their roaring campfire and have some beers with them that late summer evening. They talked about how they had just come over the pass from Vancouver and how gorgeous it was on the other side -- very sunny and warm.

The next morning, my tent was covered in 6 inches of snow. The sky was grey and snow was predicted for the drive on the Banff highway. Sure enough, the way to Vancouver was clear and fine.

So I went West instead of South.

It took me the rest of the day to drive into Seattle, arriving around 6:00pm when the sun was setting over Mt. Rainier. It was the most gorgeous sight I had ever seen. Just writing this down puts tears in my eyes. I remembered I knew some people in Seattle who were in their Residency there and called and had a place to stay. I never again left Seattle until my husband, (also named David) whom I met 6 months later, and I moved to Alaska in 1974.

When my parents came home after six weeks in Fiji, they forwarded my accumulated mail. In it was a job offer from a hospital in Boulder.