On rare occasions whilst driving around the UK, one sees lone people at the roadside, typically near service stations. They are identifiable as hitchhikers by their ragtag appearance, huge backpacks and cardboard placards, on which is usually scrawled a destination so far away as to think unreachable in any reasonable time. They raise a multitude of questions, the main one usually being ‘why on earth would I pick them up?’ Having been on the other side of this question I can only say that they are most likely desperate for a lift.
Bummit to Belgrade
During my university years, I took part in a sponsored eight-day hitchhike from Sheffield in the North of England to Belgrade in Serbia. The distance is about 1800 miles and with the exception of a train journey from Brussels to somewhere in East Germany, we covered the distance by using other people’s goodwill to give us a lift.
The idea was to raise money for a couple of prior chosen charities whilst having an adventure ourselves. People back home had put up money for me and two pals as donations to the charities, enabling us to take part in the expedition. This trip involved begging for lifts along roadsides, camping at service stations, meeting some remarkably friendly and interesting people and also getting shafted a few times by bad luck and the incompetence of some of our drivers.
The Bad Luck…
In a time before smartphones, the issues started early as for our third lift some final year students offered to take us South of London but missed the turning for the M25, proceeded into central London and then got lost. As they became increasingly confused and irate they took us back up the M1 leaving us at a Northward bound service station.
Our only option was to head back the way we had come costing more precious time. By this point, the novelty of the bright yellow comedy chicken suit I had opted for was wearing off. In the end, we made it out of the country the next day following the first sleepless night of many in South Mimms service station.
And the Less Bad Luck…
The most memorable lift was possibly one from the middle of nowhere, black forest, near the German border with its eastern neighbours. The driver seemed to say nothing but picked us up with a grunt, acknowledging our cardboard signs. As we set off the stereo piped up with a young girls voice describing (strangely enough in English) the story of how a samurai killed his whole family.
In those moments I thought we were being spirited away to a remote log cabin to be either chopped up or sold into some form of bondage. I was relieved when a hip-hop beat broke in and the driver began a concerted effort to communicate with us in a friendly form of broken English.
Solo Hitching
After recent discussions with a friend I have been looking into the phenomena of van life, which I guess is more towards owning a motorhome than hitching in the grand scheme of adventure-related travel, but it is what got me reflecting on my previous travel experiences and inspired this post.
I am now on the settled side of thirty years and I certainly wouldn’t recommend hitchhiking to anyone and everyone. I think it suits a certain kind of person, someone with a positive outlook and who can roll with any unexpected punches.
You have to be open to the possibility of ending up in dodgy situations and be confident that you could deal with them. You have also got to have time on your side and not be worried when things take so much longer than expected. This just did not work so well for me in our time compressed eight-day rush to Serbia.
Every extra hour waiting to be picked up, and every demoralizing rejection of a request for a lift took it out of me in a way I did not foresee. I often felt like I was trying to sell myself and our worthy mission and no-one was buying. That said I have no regrets about going on the trip, it was certainly fun and rewarding in the end.
What about Van Life?
In much the same way solo travel is tremendously exciting but can be lonesome (especially if you can get off the beaten track) hitching a ride has its pros and cons. I was too impatient to enjoy the long waits in bleak surroundings and I would imagine hitching solo can be even more nervewracking at times.
I think that van life offers something slightly different, but also potentially life-changing in the experiences that could flow from that way of living. I would say that the character traits described above would be similarly appropriate for anyone thinking of taking it up.
