– On 1 June 2017, I left the small English town of Falmouth to hitchhike alone around the world –
There are two types of fun. Type 1 is something that you thoroughly enjoy while it’s happening; you don’t want it to end, like enjoying a bottle of wine with friends. Type 2 is something that makes you miserable at the time, but looking back later you realize you did it.
I’d experienced mostly type 2 fun so far on my adventure and I was expecting these next seven days to be straightforward, enjoyable and uneventful. But following the tone of the last few blog posts, the week ended up being yet another fiasco.
I had been staying in the Netherlands with Dylan, my old roommate, and the rest of the Verkuil family. They washed my damp, stench-wrenching clothes in the washing machine (a lovely change from rivers and public bathrooms), fed me and showed me around without asking for anything in return. It’s people like these who make this trip possible.
Now I was continuing East to Germany and Mr. Verkuil was kind enough to drive me to the petrol station on the day I left.
Avgun (below) picked me up straight away. He was a very talented rapper and even rapped in front of me, which was one of the most amazing things I’ve seen! Originally he came from Albania, Europe’s poorest country. He knows what it is to have nothing and bought me lunch, dinner and drinks throughout the day. He was only planning to go to Uterecht, a relatively short hop, but we really got on so he made the decision to just carry on driving. He lives every day not knowing how it will turn out. It’s the best way to live, I think. This drive was definitely type 1 fun. If everyone I met were like him, this trip would be easier and cheaper than taking a plane.
I took a photo of his holding the two signs I made for the day (most people don’t travel across the country and holding up a ‘Deutschland’ sign too early would’ve put people off). He took me so far that these two signs were made redundant. I could have gone even further with him but the offer of having a German prostitute bought for me was a bit too much.
A Detour into Denmark.
We crossed in to Germany and Avgun left me at the first service station. He made sure that I was happy with the spot before leaving. It was now after sunset so I retreated into the nearby woodland to spend the night.
My first lift of the day was difficult to catch. Nobody was stopping and after an hour I started to walk towards the fuel pumps. Luckily, a man slowed down just after I put my sign down to ask where I wanted to go.
“Berlin, what about you?” I replied.
“I’m actually heading to Denmark. Wanna come?” He queried.
It was an 800km detour and a new country. “why the hell not?!” I said with a grin.
We really bonded during the long but captivating drive and conversation and got to Copenhagen after the late-summer sun had already set. I couldn’t find an emergency Couchsurfing host and the cheapest hostel was $30/night! He knew the struggle and helped me to search for a well-hidden camping spot.
It’s often difficult, having to part ways with drivers. You get to know someone in a different way when you know you only have a few hours together. The façade we all endeavor to put up, the masks we wear to survive are removed and you can talk about things you wouldn’t normally mention to even close friends; you can see people for who they really are.
Back into Germany
The Danish seem to be happy people; they have enough money to not have to worry about it and there isn’t a big rich-poor divide. They cycle as much as Holland and share similarities in architecture. It was a short visit to their country, but I was happy enough with spending one day there since I hadn’t even planned to come in the first place.
I was able to leave Copenhagen with relative ease, getting picked up within a few minutes and making it about half way to the German border. That night, camping in-between two motorway lanes in the tall sharp grass, I experienced the moisture falling from the air as the air temperature fell. I was just in my bivvy bag, no tent, and I thought I had gotten caught in a rain storm. I put my tent up around me very shoddily, while half-asleep; I basically tucked it underneath me and put the walking pole up by my hips.
The next day, I got to the stop just before Berlin on the East side of Germany. I had made it across the country in just two days, despite the detour to Denmark.
I camped out at the service station before Berlin in a woodland spot behind the trucks. There were dirty nappies, condoms and needles around me and an army of aggressive mosquitoes. My mosquito head net and repellent didn’t do a thing and I now looked like I’ve been in a brutal fight. Type 2 fun. Luckily the bites didn’t really show up, because they were on my top lip underneath my moustache and spread symmetrically on my nose. My face throbbed but I didn’t look too much like a victim.
I stood for over an hour at the exit to the service station but despite the hundreds of German cars surely going into the capital city, only about 3 polish cars passed me. This wasn’t good enough. I could be here all day, so I had to do what every British citizen dreads… Bothering someone by asking for help.
At the beginning of this trip the idea of approaching people scared me, but now it was my only chance. Luckily, the first truck driver I asked said yes. He took me into Poland and to another truck stop where I quickly secured a lift to Wroclaw, where I would make my first break.
After a 3100km sprint from Falmouth, I sat there in the passenger seat and began to wind down. My eye lids became heavy, my eyes burned and, if I wasn’t following the map on my phone, I’d have passed out. I found a hostel for £4/night and talked to no one apart from the receptionist when I checked in. I slept from 100 years and eventually, after 3 days, ventured out to see the city.