Yesterday I left Barstow and that nice little store refreshed from
that nice shower and a change of clothes. Since nothing of interest
happened from Barstow to my destination in Arizona I will spare you
the details. I will also skip over my stay in Jerome as it must have
been very dull as well. We continue our journey on the way back to
Oakland with several nice rides in late model cars which brought me
to the Arizona Side of Hoover Dam. When I debarked from this nice
comfortable car at the edge of the dam I was warned that I might not
get another ride as there was not much traffic in this area. I said
my thank you for the ride and the advice and spent the next few hours
looking at this unbelievable site. For the first time on my trip I
took the camera from my bag and took pictures without a thought of
the light, shadows or distance. I know now that the last concrete was
poured in May 1935 and that the dam was over 700 feet high from the
river. I walked the width of the dam to the California side and had
not thought of getting a ride when a truck pulled up next to me and a
young man said , "Where are you heading." When I said California he
motioned for me to come over to his truck. He explained that he had
a couple of stops to make but would put me on a road to get me to the
coast. During the next hour I learned that he had a crew of men that
were putting in the towers for carrying the electric power to southern
California. He drove off the main road and up the mountain where we
could see the dam below us and in several locations men working on the
base of a tower. When he had done his inspection we headed into
Las Vegas where I was to find a more suitable place to hitchhike to
the California coast.
Since I had not eaten all day my first stop was a small cafe to get
something to eat before starting out in unfamiliar territory. I was
standing by the side of the road about sunset when a truck with two
men stopped and said I could jump in the back. I settled down on a
large tarp that was covering a couple of boxes. We were traveling at
a good clip and the first stop was Baker, which I later learned was a
spot that recorded record breaking heat in the summer. It was here I
learned that the truck delivered Dry Ice from California to Las Vegas
with stops along the way. The boxes under the tarp I was sitting on
contained Dry Ice. When we left Baker I settled down again and must
have fallen asleep. In the middle of the night the truck stopped and
I was told that we were at a bus stop where I could get a ride in the
morning and they were about to head south. I think I gave them a sleepy
thank you and went to the bus depot where I spent the rest of the night.
I spent the next two days working my way up highway 99 until I reached
Stockton. My ride from Stockton to Tracy, was again in a truck, this
time making a delivery of furniture. It was early afternoon when I was
walking just out of Tracy and came upon a truck with two trailers loaded
with cattle. The driver was poking at one of the animals that had fallen
down and soon had it standing up again. As he headed for the cab the
driver asked my destination and in the same breath said he was going to
South San Francisco. That sounded like a good offer and I immediately
accepted. It must have been around four in the afternoon when we got
to South San Francisco and again I was on my own. As I got out of the
truck a young man, apparently a friend , stopped to have a few
words of greeting. Before I was out of sight the young man in the car
pulled over and told me he could drop me off at Pier 7 if that would be
of any help. I assured him it would be as I was heading for the Ferry
Building to get a ticket to Oakland. Now it looked like I would be home
before sunset today. Just a Ferry Boat ride and a short Electric Train
ride and I would be 7 blocks from home. I headed for the ticket booth
to purchase my ticket as I was searching my pockets for the 21 cent fare.
As I waited in line I found one dime, one nickel, and three pennies. So
close to home, but separated by the San Francisco Bay, and needing three
cents more. When there were no more customers at the ticket booth I put
my money and my open wallet on the counter in front of the Ticketmaster.
From his frown I was afraid I was not going to be on the next ferry. With
one finger he spread out my coins and then pointed to a three cent stamp
I had in my wallet and said..."that should do it"...and gave me a ticket.
Well, I was home before dark and soon asleep for the next twelve hours or
more. I didn't think I should tell my mother about the stolen bag on
day one, or the sleepy truck driver on day two, or my day in the sun
between Mojave and Barstow. I did tell her that I spent my ten dollars.
So you won't think this has been a fairy tale I will post one of the
pictures I took at Hoover Dam...on the back it is stamped 1937.
