Archive for the ‘Montana’ Tag
This morning I got a ride from Ashton, Idaho to West Yellowstone, Montana with a couple of guys. I don’t remember the driver’s name, but he was originally from China. He has lived in LA for the past ten years. He was with his son. He spoke some English, but sometimes it was hard to understand him at times.
He was a Christian. I asked him who were the first Christian missionaries to China. He said the Portuguese were; I thought the British were.
They were from southern China. He said something very interesting: he said that someone from Shang-hai would not be able to understand someone from Hong Kong. The national language is Mandarin and there is also a Cantonese language that is spoken in China.
I told him about Watchman Nee and that Nee was a well-known Chinese Christian writer who died in prison in 1972. He had never heard of Watchman Nee. Maybe Nee is better known in North America; maybe the Communists tried to suppress Nee’s writings. I told him that The Spiritual Man by Watchman Nee was a classic.
They dropped me off in West Yellowstone and we took some photos. He said that his son would stay with him for a month and then go back to China. It was a very edifying trip to West Yellowstone.
Last night I camped out in Hamilton, Montana. This morning I walked a few miles south of Hamilton and then got a ride to Darby. I got dropped off in Darby and walked to the gas station. I was getting too warm, so I took off my long-sleaved shirt.
As I was repacking my backpack, this guy walked out of the gas station and walked over to me. He asked me where I was going. I told him that I was headed toward Salmon, Idaho. He asked me where I was from originally and I told him from Iowa. He said that he was from Spirit Lake; I told him I was from Algona.
His name was Garrett and he went to high school in Estherville, class of 1985. I told Garrett that I went to Garrigan High School in Algona—I finished in 1978. We played Estherville in football every year.
I then asked Garrett if he knew Agnes Hood; I had dated Agnes once during my senior year—she went to school in Estherville. Garrett said that he knew Agnes. He said he remembered there were three Hood sisters and they were very beautiful. I replied, yes, they were very beautiful. I then asked Garrett if he knew Brian Sawyer. Garrett knew Brian and his brother. Brian was a cousin of Agnes’. I first met Agnes and Brian while playing in a pickup basketball game at the Hood residence the summer before my senior year.
I then told Garrett that I once got a ride from Nebraska to Estherville [in 2002] and got dropped off at around 10 o’clock at night. I was walking down the main street of Estherville when I noticed this car drive past, swing into this parking lot and pull up right next to me on the sidewalk. This guy stuck his head out of the window and asked, “Are you Tim Shey?”
I replied, “Yes, I am.” I was a bit flabbergasted.
We started talking and he had picked me up hitchhiking in Humboldt a few months ago and drove me to Algona. He told me to get in his car and we drove to his apartment in Estherville.
In his apartment, he opened his Bible to the Book of Ezekiel. He showed me Ezekiel 21: 27: “I will overturn, overturn, overturn, it: and it shall be no more, until he come whose right it is; and I will give it him.” He told me that the Lord wanted him to show me that Scripture. He later gave me a ride to Algona.
I spoke with Garrett for a little while and then he said, “It’s a small world.”
I said, “It sure is.”
We shook hands and I walked south on U.S. 93 towards Salmon.
It’s a Small World
A Sword is Sharpened
12 December 2015
Yesterday I walked eight miles from Belgrade to Manhattan, Montana on I-90. I put my backpack down on the shoulder and waited a few minutes and this vehicle pulled over to give me a ride. The driver’s name was Butch and he was from near Great Falls. I told him that I was going to Missoula.
We stopped in Three Forks where Butch bought me a sandwich and something to drink. He told me that he just flew back from Alaska. He helped his son move from Montana to a new job in southeastern Alaska. Butch also was a Christian and we had a great talk about the things of God as we traveled west.
When we drove into Missoula, Butch told me that things happen for a reason and that I was in his car for a reason. He told me that he had a sister that lived south of Missoula who had cancer and was bedridden. Her name was Jessie. He said that maybe the Lord had him pick me up so that I could pray for her. I agreed with him.
Previously I had told Butch that when I was living in Ames, Iowa (around 1990), that I had prayed for my roommate’s girlfriend, Vanessa. Vanessa had gone to this doctor and she had to have surgery on her sinuses. Before I prayed for Vanessa, I had told my roommate how my faith in Jesus Christ healed me of manic-depression back in 1986. My roommate told Vanessa about this, so they wanted to talk to me about it.
I told Vanessa how I was healed and I asked her if she wanted me to lay hands on her and pray for her healing.. She said yes, so I laid my hands on her head, prayed in tongues and I could feel virtue go through my hands. A few days later, I was at the lumber yard stocking some lumber up on the cat walk when I saw my roommate walking down the aisle of the building. He had driven to the lumber yard to tell me that Vanessa had gone to the doctor and that there was nothing wrong with her sinuses—she was healed! He held out his hand and reached up to me and we shook hands. I said, “Praise the Lord!”, and went back to work. I later told Vanessa that her faith had healed her.
Butch and I drove south of Missoula and we drove to his relative’s house where his sister, Jessie, was staying. We walked into their house and we met Butch’s relatives. Jessie was laying in bed in the living room. It looked like she was in great pain. Jessie told me that it was very difficult to breathe.
We talked for a little while and then I asked Jessie if I could put my hand on her shoulder and pray in tongues. She agreed, so I began to pray. I think I prayed for around five minutes; I could feel virtue go through my hands. After we were done praying, Butch and myself and the rest of the family had some supper.
Butch then drove me to a gas station in Lolo where we talked for a short while. We shook hands and I walked to my campsite down by the river.
28 November 2015
Yesterday I was walking north of Sugar City, Idaho on U.S. 20 when this pickup pulled over to give me a ride. The guy’s name was Ted and he looked like he was in is late sixties or early seventies. He was driving from Utah to Billings, Montana. I told him that I was heading to Belgrade, Montana.
Ted spent 12 years in the Special Forces (Green Berets). He did four tours in Vietnam. Ted was from the Crow Reservation south of Billings. He said that he was 15/16 Crow and 1/16 French. I told Ted that I had hitchhiked across the Crow and Northern Cheyenne Reservations a number of times over the years.
Ted told me that, when he saw me, something hit him between the eyes and told him to pick me up. We had a great talk all the way to Belgrade.
I told Ted that I was involved in intercession and spiritual warfare. He told me that he had been working on a project on the Crow Reservation for 20 years to help the Crow Nation become more independent of federal welfare programs. Ted has met with a lot of opposition. I told him about the power of prayer and we talked much on the things of God.
We stopped at a gas station in Henry’s Lake, Idaho. Ted bought me some biscuits and gravy and something to drink. We then walked back to the pickup and he handed me a plate of Thanksgiving Dinner. He told me that his friends in Utah prepared him a plate of dinner for him to eat on the road. Ted knew it was for someone else. As he drove through Utah, he saw this homeless guy (maybe in Salt Lake City) and offered him that plate of food. The homeless guy told him that he had just eaten some dinner. So Ted gave me the plate of food; I was very grateful.
Ted told me something interesting. He said that is great grandfather was a Crow scout for Colonel George Custer. His great grandfather had fought with Custer at the Battle of Little Big Horn. His name was Gozerhead. Ted said that the Sioux and Northern Cheyenne tribes were allied with the Blackfeet during the Indian Wars. I told Ted that I have always enjoyed reading military history and that I worked for this guy on the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming–he was from the Arapaho tribe. He told me that he had an uncle who did seven tours in Vietnam.
I love it when the Lord puts someone in your path and you have a lot in common with them. When this happens, either you will say something that they were supposed to hear or else they will say something that you were supposed to hear. It may be one word or one sentence and then the Lord engrafts it into your spirit and you grow stronger from it. Some Christians call this a rhema* word. You could also call it our Daily Bread. Jesus is the Word of God and He is the Bread from Heaven.
Ted dropped me off just south of Belgrade and continued on to Billings. I walked to the McDonald’s and got some tea to drink and sat down and read the Bible till it got dark. I then walked to this junk pickup on the far side of town and hunkered down for the night. It got down to minus three degrees Fahrenheit that night. My two water bottles froze solid, my loaf of bread froze solid, the sandwich that Ted bought for me froze solid, but I did not freeze solid (actually, I stayed nice and warm that night). It had been a very blessed day on the road.
The Art of War
At a Cafe in Merriman, Nebraska
I received this email earlier this morning:
We picked you up in early August this year and took you to West Yellowstone. My girlfriend and I were driving a blue beetle with two small dogs. We were on a road trip through the West and talked about encounters with hitch hikers (the guy who took the hitch hikers clothes and dropped them off 20 miles away after he pulled a knife on him), and about how you got into Hitch hiking, etc.
It was a memorable meeting for us and we still think about you from time to time. I remember that you had given your tent away to someone who needed it because the zipper was broken, and your sleeping bags were well used, but still functional.
My girlfriend, friends, and I are avid campers/backpackers and have accumulated extra gear throughout the years. We thought if you needed anything (tent, sleeping bag, stove, water filter, food, jacket, shoes, etc) we could ship it to a post office of your choice around Christmas time.
We love the fact that you’ve followed your dreams and chose a unique and interesting path. You aren’t just another drone in society, and that’s worth something! We’d like to help support that dream!
Godspeed, high plains drifter!
Jake & Jess
About a week ago I hitchhiked from West Yellowstone to Belgrade, Montana. From Belgrade I started walking west on I-90. I walked a mile or two and these two young guys picked me up and dropped me off in Whitehall.
I tried thumbing west on the interstate, but the Lord told me to shut it down for the day. So I walked into Whitehall and spent the rest of the day at the library.
Whenever I go to the library, I check my two blogs and or any emails. I usually spend the rest of my time reading other blogs—mostly Christian blogs.
I stayed there at the library in Whitehall till after 7 PM. I then walked to this convenience store across the street from the railroad tracks. I left my backpack outside and walked inside to get a cup of coffee.
I was now down to my last six bucks, a half a loaf of bread and a can of soup. A small number of customers came and went from the convenience store as I slowly sipped on my coffee.
I really don’t care for coffee, but in the winter time, a hot cup of joe warms up the bones. I usually put a lot of cream and sugar in my coffee for the extra calories. I would much rather drink hot tea, if it is available. I noticed on the weather forecast that it might get down to 18 degrees F, so that was my ulterior motive for buying a 24 ounce cup of coffee.
After I finished my coffee, I walked outside to my backpack. I saw what looked like two dollars stuffed into one of my straps on the top of my pack. I was pleasantly surprised. I walked back into the convenience store and told the lady at the cash register about the two bucks that I found on top of my pack. She smiled and I bought some hot popcorn for a dollar. On closer examination, I noticed that it was three dollars that someone had given me. I was very grateful.
After I finished my popcorn, I walked back outside, lifted my backpack onto my shoulders and walked a couple of blocks to the east. I then crossed the railroad tracks and towards the rodeo grounds. I found a machine shed on the outskirts of town. Someone had obviously kept some cattle or horses in that shed: I found a little stall with some hay on the ground. I shook and scattered the hay on the ground (for insulation), unrolled my two sleeping bags on top of the hay, crawled inside my bags and eventually fell asleep. It was a cozy and warm place to sleep for the night.
The next morning, I had a few pieces of bread and a can of cold soup. I then headed to the convenience store and bought a small cup of coffee.
I then walked back to I-90 where I stood on the side of the road for maybe half an hour.
I started to get cold, so I started walking west. I walked for around two miles and this tractor-trailer pulled over. I ran up to the cab and opened the door. The truck driver grabbed my backpack and I climbed up into the cab.
This guy’s name was Walentin and he was originally from Russia. He spoke some English. I told him that I was a Christian; he said that he was also a Christian and that he went to a Pentecostal church in the state of Washington.
We didn’t talk a whole lot because his English wasn’t so good. We drove west through Butte. We drove past this sign near Garrison which read “Jesus Christ is Lord over this valley”. Walentin pointed at the sign, smiled and gave me a thumbs up and I said “Praise the Lord!”
Walentin dropped me off in Missoula. I walked to the library where I spent fifteen minutes on the internet. I then walked across town to Brooks Avenue.
I had just walked past the McDonald’s when this young man ran up to me carrying a white sack.
“This is for you,” he said. He gave me the sack and ran back to the McDonald’s.
“Thank you and God bless you,” I replied as I looked back at the McDonald’s. I was very grateful.
I walked to this gas station where I set my backpack down. I sat down on my backpack and looked inside the sack. There were three sandwiches: two double cheeseburgers and a chicken sandwich.
I began eating a cheeseburger when this lady walked over to me. She had been filling up her vehicle with gas when I arrived at the gas station. She asked me what I was doing. I told her that I was hitchhiking and that I was headed to Lolo. She said that she could give me a ride. So I grabbed my pack, put it in her vehicle and we drove off.
Her name was Shannon and she told me that she used to live in Driggs, Idaho. I told her that I had hitchhiked through Driggs many times over the years. I told her that I used to stay with a couple of friends in Victor whenever I passed through, but their house burned down back in 2012 and one of my friends died in the fire; his dad barely escaped the fire with his life.
“You knew George and Mike?” Shannon asked, a bit surprised.
“Sure did. Mike is related to some friends of mine that live in Jackson, Wyoming. George and Mike let me sleep on the kitchen floor whenever I came through town.”
“A lot of people knew George. We hung out at the same bar in Victor. There were a lot of wet eyes in the Driggs area when people found out that George died in the fire.”
Shannon drove to this store where she bought some dog food. I helped her carry a bag of dog food to her vehicle. We then headed south to Lolo. She dropped me off at this gas station at the intersection of U.S. 93 and U.S. 12 and we said goodbye.
I walked west on U.S. 12 for a mile or so and camped in a shed near the river that night.
Tim and Hans
Tim and Joke
Yesterday I got a ride from Lolo, Montana to Kooskia, Idaho with Hans and Joke (pronounced “yoka”) Grutter. They are a Christian couple from Holland. We stopped for a while to see these guys in three boats go down the Clearwater River on U.S. 12. Hans and Joke dropped me off in Kooskia and took the two pictures above. Their plans were to drive to Seattle and then fly back to Holland.