Pender Island: The Canadian Town Where Hitchhiking Is Encouraged
Brendan Sainsbury
5-6 minutes
I’m standing by the road outside of the Otter Bay ferry terminal on Pender Island in British Columbia, waving my thumb optimistically at the oncoming traffic. Behind me is a green sign inscribed with the words: “Car stop. You accept a ride at your own risk. But the ride is free so consider it a gift.”
It’s an encouraging message. I’m trying to get to a secluded resort called Poets Cove Resort & Spa on the other side of the island. But with no car and no local bus service, the “car stops” are my only option. Since I got off the ferry from the mainland, eight half-empty vehicles have whizzed past me nonchalantly. I’m starting to think that, with COVID-19 still dominating, this might not have been such a good idea. But, just as I start to seriously question my sanity, a metallic brown SUV pulls up driven by a woman in her 40s. The only other passenger is a dog. I raise my eyebrows hopefully. She gives an affirmative nod and opens the window. “Need a ride?”
Hitchhiking—that good old sustainable form of ride-sharing—has declined in popularity in recent years, stoked by equivocal legislation and shifting cultural attitudes. But, with climate change becoming an increasingly urgent crisis, the need for more creative transportation options has never been more pressing.
Fortunately for me, three islands near my home in British Columbia—the Southern Gulf Islands of Mayne, Pender, and Saturna—have developed a unique way to alleviate traffic congestion and encourage more carpooling. Distinctive green-and-white signs, installed by volunteers, are scattered around the islands like bus stops inviting people to hitch legitimately.
First set up in 2008 on Pender, there are now over 60 car stops on the three islands supporting a green system that’s run by the community and completely free. As someone who has never owned or driven a car, I felt as if I was perfectly qualified to try them out.
I chose Pender Island for its good ferry links with Vancouver and attractive waterside hotel. Spread over 13 square miles and supporting a population of around 2,500, it’s one of dozens of forested landfalls that stipple the Georgia Strait between the British Columbia mainland and Vancouver Island.
It was a good choice. The woman with the dog drops me at the Driftwood Centre, Pender’s charming version of a strip mall that's home to several local shops. With one ride under my belt, I feel validated and confident. After quickly re-caffeinating at the local coffee shop, I walk briskly along the road to another green-and-white sign and stick out my thumb.
My luck’s improving. The second car to rear up grinds to a stop. A retired couple from Alberta, who moved to Pender five years ago, offer to take me all the way to my hotel. Wearing face masks while the air-conditioning is blasting, we chat about British Columbia’s recent floods, inflated property prices, and the mellow pace of island life. I climb out, thanking them profusely. It’s not just the ride I’m happy about. After a year of truly dismal news stories, their generosity of spirit restores my faith in human nature.
The marina at Poets Cove / Brendan Sainsbury
Poets Cove is a deluxe and idyllic resort that seems to be more oriented toward Tesla drivers than hitchhikers. Notwithstanding, I’m given a handsome room overlooking the hotel marina. After taking advantage of the restaurant, swimming pool, and gym, I revel for the evening in my room wearing a complimentary dressing gown and wondering if my luck will hold for the return trip in the morning.
It does. I have no trouble getting two rides immediately. The first is with a retired teacher on his way to play a game of tennis. Keen to chat, he shares tales of volunteering in West Africa and snippets of his former life on the mainland before dropping me at the Driftwood Centre for coffee. Ride two is with a soft-spoken boater in his 70s who once sailed from South Africa to the U.K. and tells me he’s planning another voyage from Pender down to Costa Rica in 2022. I could have listened to his adventures for hours, but all too soon we arrive at the ferry terminal and I bid him a grateful farewell.
It’s with reluctance that I board the ferry and decamp to the front lounge to quietly reflect on my trip. I met a host of charitable people during my ride-sharing experiment and conversed about everything from long ago travels to our current hobbies. More importantly, I got everywhere I wanted to go quicker than I would have on a bus. Which begs the question: Might this idea work in other parts of the world, or is this a one-off for the Southern Gulf Islands? After this weekend, part of me can’t help thinking that there are plenty more generous people out there who would sustain programs like this one on Pender Island.
