After 40 years of writing prescriptions, a retired North Saanich physician has put pen to paper again, this time to treat a condition of his own.
His self-diagnosis, jokes Dr. Trevor Watson, is that he is a victim of hodophilia, which isn’t as nasty as it sounds.
“It means lover of the road,” said Watson, whose addiction to travelling long distances on Greyhound buses inspired him to write Straddling the Hound: The Curious Charms of Long-Distance Bus Travel.
The book, released by Agio Publishing and available online, recalls Watson’s experiences during four solo bus trips within the U.S., although he admits it’s the “age-old scheme” of using a trip as an excuse to share his views on life.
Although Watson, 69, has been happily married for 46 years to wife Cynthia, also a physician, he said the solo ventures provides a different experience than travelling as a couple.
“It was a desire to change my mental oil sort of thing, and I had the time and resources to do it,” Watson said. He describes himself as an “extremely curious” person who loves striking up conversations with others — which happen to be easier when travelling alone.
With his wife’s blessing (“She likes to get me out of the house”), Watson set out to see who he would meet and what might happen.
Plenty, as it turns out — he hobnobbed with Mormons in Utah, discovered a bench at a Key West Greyhound station was covered in blood, and met a distinguished Englishman who seemed out of place at a bus station.
“He was a professor of international relations at the University of London, and he said he’d been at a function dancing with the Queen Mother,” Watson said.
“Greyhound bus depots are always on the lousy end of town, it seems, with cheap hotels and restaurants nearby,” he said. “You have to keep your wits about you. There’s an element of danger, which adds to the fun.”
One that sticks out was a station in Olympia, Washington, that his bus pulled into at 11 one night during a downpour. The first two letters of its giant BUS sign were burned out, and the depot was padlocked.
“Welcome to Olympia!” Watson said with a laugh.
Another memorable experience occurred during a trip from Bakersfield to Los Angeles. Following what sounded like a tire blowout, his otherwise disengaged seatmate suddenly spoke: “Can you hear that?”
A mechanic told the driver it was an engine problem and told him that under no circumstances should he take the bus on the freeway. The driver ordered everyone back on the bus and began driving back to Bakersfield.
A female passenger chimed in: “Yo, driver! You stop this bus and call for rescue now! My brother’s a lawyer and if you don’t do what I say, I’m gonna sue your ass.”
Watson’s world travels have taken him to Zimbabwe, Haiti, Guatemala and India, but he said he never tires of budget travel closer to home.
“I’ve developed a soft spot for the Motel 6,” he says, noting its bedrooms are identical. “It’s like going into your own bedroom every time you check in.”
He laments that such affordable accommodation is in danger of extinction, and that “the long-distance bus infrastructure is decaying since almost everybody can afford a car nowadays.”
Watson is no stranger to writing, having written a weekly medical advice column for The Province. And being a hopeless hodophile, he hopes to write another book about his bus travels in the U.K.
“I was even thinking of starting a Hodophiles Anonymous,” he joked. “ ‘Hi, my name’s Joe and I’m a hodophile.’ But I don’t think anyone wants to get over this.”
