Reunited with a Best Friend

I landed in Havana, Cuba, in the early afternoon, and headed straight to the AirBnB that Lucy had organised for us. (Couch Surfing is illegal in Cuba because residents cannot have foreign tourists in their house without paying for and registering their stay with the state.) I was dozing on the bed in our room when Lucy, who's plane from London had landed a few hours after mine from Miami, opened to door. A healthy amount of squealing and squeezing ensued. After over a year and half apart, I was ecstatic to see a best friend again!

Our room was on the 10th floor and had a little balcony. We spent the next few hours there: talking and laughing, peering down at the movement of people and cars in the city below, watching the sky change as the sun set: until Lucy could no longer fight the jet lag, and Havana had become a sea of twinkling lights.

959 Rides 

Sunset over Havana

Climbing in Suesca

I spent a few days staying in Suesca, the town said to be responsible for bringing rock climbing to Colombia. Following the rail road track is a long wall of sandstone that provides perfect conditions for a fantastic variety of climbing. I stayed with a Couch Surfer and his wife and son in their very rural home on a grassy slope, surrounded by eucalyptus trees, cows and barking dogs. I was taken out to the rocks to learn how to tactfully heave my body, in its inseparable entirety, up a vertical surface. Multiple times. Using my four limbs and all sorts of gear I'd never even seen before, I managed to scramble skywards and thoroughly enjoy myself. 

947 Rides 

Helping Tend the Fields for a Bag of Spuds

I was hitching north of Bogotá when I was picked up by an elderly man in his pick-up truck. Alejandro offered to drive me all the way to my destination, but first had to visit his plot of land. We arrived at the end of a dirt track to meet his friend who tended the field and greenhouse. We spent about an hour digging up potatoes, collecting broad beans and picking cherry tomatoes. It was fun to get my hands dirty and I was gifted a big bag of our bounty to take on the road!

Afterwards, my new friend drove me all the way to Suesca and was kind enough to take me for lunch. A classic Colombian feast of soup, rice, beans, plantain and a hefty lump of barbecued beef. Plus a side of spaghetti in a creamy tomato sauce... Because you can apparently never have enough beige on a latino dinner plate.

939 Rides

Collecting Broad Beans 

House and Techno in Latin America

My brother and I, along with two friends from England who were also travelling Colombia, were excited to fork out for some festival tickets at a venue north of Bogotá. On the first day, we arrived keen and early, headed straight to the empty dance floor, threw ourselves around and watched as the crowd gathered. Almost 12 hours later, by the time the music stopped, the warehouse was heaving, and we were incapable of moving our legs and arms any more. We collapsed into bed, and welcomed the opportunity to recover before the music began again. Eat, sleep, rave, repeat... 

935 Rides

Some Catty Graffiti 

Adventures in the Wilderness with a Trusty Shower Curtain

Whilst gathering supplies for a few days in Los Nevados National Park, Chris and I decided that the most sensible (or only available) solution to my non-waterproof tent conundrum was a giant £5 shower curtain. There weren't that many shops in Salento that sell anything other than pretty artisan accessories. 

We set off from El Valle de Cocora, hiking through lush green farmlands and the tallest palm trees in the world. I had a spring in my step! Albeit temporarily stifled by a pounding electric shock. It thumped through me when I clutched a metal fence in an attempt to manoeuvre past a large muddy puddle. I initially thought that Chris had whacked me in the back in some insane spout of sibling aggression, with a hand that had somehow made it through my huge rucksack and rib cage, to my heart chambers. That current certainly rattled me!

The day was a difficult slog uphill, through the jungle. The mud and altitude made our advancement slow and so we ended up camping in a small clearing where we soon realised, hundreds of midges called home. It became a race to construct our shelter without getting everything soaked or our hands and faces bitten raw. It was a challenge of patience, creativity and resourcefulness. The finished masterpiece consisted of the shower curtain strung up between the trees, some scraps of elastic and poorly improvised knots securing the four corners. The tent was slightly to large for the clearing and so we had to sleep twisted around a huge tree root that stuck up through the ground beneath. One wall of the tent was covered in a giant silver emergency blanket that I had been carrying around forever, and another was covered by an open bin liner. The set up was rather hilarious, but somehow kept us relatively dry... ish. 

In a bid to escape the midges, who were evil enough to find their cunning way into the tent, we hunkered down into our sleeping bags. It was 3.30 pm.

The following day was another haul upwards through the jungle until we reached the páramo. This high up, the vegetation is totally different: short, grassy, mossy and plenty of these small trees that look like something between a cactus and a palm tree.

After a lunch of peanut butter and raisin wraps (of which we devoured many), we had a short flat march to El Refugio de La Playa. Here we could sleep in bunk beds inside a wooden cabin attached the farm, escape the rain and enjoy hot hearty meals. 

The following day our pace picked up significantly as the trail was relatively flat. With fingers and toes numb from the wet and cold, we were ecstatic to reach some hot springs! Submerged in the hot water, we watched the white clouds drift over the landscape, between the peaks and dips of the mountains.

The rest of our time in the park was wonderful, if a bit cold and wet. We even managed to escape the nerve-wracking advances of twenty bulls who's field we had to cross. They tailed us until we hopped over a small river which, thankfully, they couldn't be bothered to cross.

925 Rides 

Crossing the creek in the lower lying jungle

Beer and Gunpowder: a Colombian National Sport

From Manizales, Chris and I hitched to Salento, a very beautiful and brightly coloured colonial town in the mountains. Hitching with a guy has sometimes proven slower than hitching as a woman alone, but Chris and I had great luck and waited very little between each ride. 

That evening we followed a friend's suggestion and ended up at a bar called Los Amigos. Here, while knocking back Poker, one of the many Colombian beers available, you can engage in a rather unique sport played all over the country, both socially and professionally. 

A board, covered in a thick layer of clay, is laid against the wall at an angle. On it's face, a metal ring is pressed into the centre and five white triangular packets of gunpowder are placed evenly spread on top. The competitors take it in turn to throw a heavy metal disc at the board. They score according to who lands closest to the centre and who causes an explosion! Needless to say, this bizarre game is great fun and efficiently regresses a room full of adults into mere excitable children, desperate for BANGS and KABOOMS. 

922 Rides 

Steps up to the Mirador of Salento

Reunited with my Twin Bro

I was surprised to discover that I actually really enjoyed the small mountain city of Manizales. After three long days of hitchhiking up from the beaches of Ecuador, I was relieved to find a kind couch surfer with an adorable hillside home just outside of the city. Perched on comfy red plastic chairs, mint and lemongrass tea picked fresh from the garden clasped between hands, surrounded by coffee plants and banana trees, myself and my new host nattered well past sunset. 

I was fortunate enough to be able to spend the following day with a friend I had made in Guatemala over a year ago. We tasted a lot of different food, and wandered through the streets that charmingly transformed from urban apartment complexes to small and rickety wooden and corrugated iron dwellings surrounded by tomato plants. 

After a super-humanly fast and freezing cold shower and a night of blissful sleep in the peace and quiet of this rural abode, I sprang out of bed and headed to the airport to meet Chris. He was destined to spend two weeks with me here in Colombia and I was so excited for our coming adventure!

918 Rides 

The view from Nicolas´ little house just outside Manizales.

Lucy Reappears

I had just crossed the border back into Colombia and was thumbing at the side of the road when a smiley and rosy cheeked lady called Lucy beckoned me over. She gestured to the car parked beside her and told me her brother was driving a long way, towards Bogotá, and she'd ask if he could take me. The brother appeared, apparently from nowhere, and said he'd gladly take me but couldn't leave for 'I'm not sure how long.' 

I decided I'd be better off getting a move on and it took about five minutes to score a ride in a Jeep, then a motorbike, a car, a lorry, a pick-up, a car, another motorbike, and another car. I was waiting in a small village where every man and boy seemed to hang out in front of one particular shop. I'm not sure where the women and girls hung out. I had been waiting for a while: long enough for me to need to sing and dance to keep myself occupied but not so long that I was wailing 'por favor' at passing vehicles.

Eventually a small maroon Chevrolet skidded to a stop and I was surprised to see Lucy's brother leap out of the drivers door and flail his arms in excitement. And there was Lucy in the front passengers seat! 

With my final ride of the day to Cali, a chicken delivery man, I saw an incredible sunset. Huge pink pillowy clouds rested on the mountain tops, low enough to allow their points to peak out above. 

912 Rides 

Hills in the South of Colombia

A Night at the Fire Station

Today, for the first time in South America, I got to ride in the back of a pick-up truck! I travelled like this all of the time in Central America and I love it, but it's illegal here in Ecuador and Colombia. 

With my final ride of the day, a delightful fella from Quito visiting a girlfriend, I arrived here in Tulcán. He took me to see the cemetery, which boats an interesting fusion of Christian headstones amongst huge hedgerows carved into figures from indigenous culture. 

I ambled through the city, asking various people if I could put my tent up on various patches of ground, when I came across the fire station. The fire men were happy to have me! I was shown into their little gym room which was to become my home for the night. I even had access to a hot (not so common in Latin America) shower and my own bathroom. It was positively luxurious! 

901 Rides 

Pedernales Beach at Sunset

A Couch Surfing Coincidence

I arrived in Esmeraldas in the late afternoon. I sat in the central plaza, under the shade of a gazebo, and tucked in to two sweet and juicy mangos. My face, hands and flip knife were a real state by the end of my fruity feast. With only a tiny piece of tissue I tried to make myself look less like a disturbingly overgrown toddler. It sort of worked.

My mess, my huge rucksack or my pink face, or probably all of the above, attracted the attention of a small boy who came to stand beside me and stare. Apparently I am a bizarre spectacle to behold. 

His mother, chuckling at his blatant and motionless gawking, struck up a conversation. She said she was always curious to see folks travelling around with huge backpacks but thought she could never do it. 'You're very brave.' 

She managed to coax the boy out his his open mouthed trance to hand him a 'pan de yuka'. He shuffled towards me and held out the hot cheesy dough ball, eyes wide and unblinking. I took it and thanked them both, and smirked at my bewildered admirer.

As darkness fell, I wandered into a Internet cafe so that I could try and contact a friend of a friend who might be able to put me up. The owner asked me immediately if I had heard of Couch Surfing. 

'Yes! I use it all the time.' 

He did too, and offered me a place to stay. What a convenient coincidence!

889 Rides 

The Pacific Ocean

A Penniless Marvellous Day

I left Baños, a sweet town in the mountains surrounded by waterfalls, and hitched my first ride of the day with a policeman. There's been a quite a few of them lately!

My next ride was with two really lovely chaps who were on their way home to Quito after the Carnaval weekend. People had been celebrating in Baños by joining in the town wide foam fight. If you walked down the street with a foam squirting can, you were in. And even if you didn't have one, you were still attacked anyway. 

The lovely chaps took me via their grandad's farm in the countryside where I tried some delicious sweet green pears, the size of plums. They also took me for breakfast at a roadside cafe. Here I tried fritata: fatty fried pork served with plantain, huge corn kernels, popcorn and chicharron. The vegetables, of course, were only seen in the spicy sauce.

Off the highway, near the entrance to the Cotopaxi National Park, I was picked up by an animated Ecuadorian family, Soña, Ángel and Carlos. I rode with them through the park on their family day out, and up the perfectly coned, snow capped Cotopaxi volcano. The top of the volcano is closed to the public due to volcanic activity, but we were permitted to walk from the car park half way up to the refuge a little higher. We were some 3500m high and every step was taxing. And it was bitterly cold!

By the evening I had made it to Paraíso, a small village just east of Santo Domingo. I ungracefully fell out of the truck I'd been riding in and pelted towards some awnings to escape the torrential rain. Behind one of these awnings a woman was clearing up her patio. I asked where I could put my tent for the night and she suggested the police station, but told me to stay put and wait for the rain to stop. Twenty minutes passed. I was perched on the edge of her property and she emerged from her house to present me with a huge plate of rice, cheese, eggs and yucca, along with a cup of coffee. She invited me to sit at her table outside, and through the kitchen window I could see the whole family sitting down for dinner. Once I'd finished, an aunt came out to chat with me and give me even more beige food. 

I went to bed with a smile and a full belly, camped out on their patio.

881 Rides 

Cotopaxi Volcano

The Mechanic

Today I was picked up in Tena by two blokes in their pick up truck. I rode with them to Puyo where René took me to his little corner shop. We suited up in bright yellow rain gear and loaded onto his motorbike. He was headed to the coast for a family wedding and so was able to take me to Baños.

On the way, the chain of the motorbike kept falling off, and so we stopped at a mechanic's. I really want to include this photo in my blog. It's much easier than trying to describe the workshop...

875 Rides 

The Mechanic´s Outside Baños

A Three Day Struggle Up a Volcano

On Tuesday I was up early to meet my guide, Hector, a gentle 51 year old who spoke softly and smiled to reveal toothless gums. The two of us set off under the pink sky to first wind along paths through farm land and then through the jungle. The hike was tough but enjoyable. We reached the cabin just before the rain and I was still feeling energetic. I cooked us some spaghetti and then sat on the porch staring at a beautiful green lake nestled at the top of the mountain we had ascended.

That evening, a group of 20 school kids with a couple of teachers and their guide appeared and immediately filled the tiny wooden cabin with bodies, dripping clothes, noise and warmth. They were incredibly friendly towards me. I was asked so many questions by inquisitive faces, brought mugs of piping hot chocolate, dragged from stool to floor to play cards, moved back again to be presented with a bowl of steaming rice, had sweets stuffed into my hands, and I drifted off to the sound of giggles, clattering and banging. It was all rather endearing.

On Wednesday, Hector and I were up at sunrise, tiptoeing over bodies and blankets, to set of to the Sumaco Galeras volcano summit. This was a long and incredibly difficult day. The rain had turned the ground to mud and I fell countless times. Every ten steps I would come to a ledge at my hip height and have to grab a tree branch or root to haul myself up. It was hard work for my whole body. 

After about five hours, we surfaced out of the jungle, to terrain of grass and shrubs, which left us exposed to the rain and biting wind. By this point, we were nearing the 3813m high summit and I was panting at an almost comical rate. Two hours later we made it to the crater edge, marked by a fallen flag pole adorned with some shredded rags. I was impressed but totally exhausted.

The decent was just as long and just as difficult, but I fell over five times more frequently. Meanwhile, Hector was unbelievably nimble, energetic and totally unaffected by the altitude. Every now and then the path would be blocked by fallen trees or overgrown vegetation and he would bushwhack with his machete to clear the way. 

We arrived back at the cabin after dark. I washed my mud covered legs in the cold water from the tanker outside and was so relieved to sit down with a mug of hot chocolate that the teacher had made me. She had stayed behind while the rest had hiked up to camp in the volcano crater. She also presented me with an absolute mountain of rice and noodles. I couldn't even finish it (which is incredibly rare for me) and collapsed into bed.

The final decent was pleasant and I was able to forgot the horrors of the day before. It was a truly wonderful experience, if it did kill me a little bit.

Birds flying overhead at sunset

Three Years: Argentina to Canada

Today I hitched a ride with a very inspiring and interesting French family in their camper van. They were one and a half years into a three year long trip crossing the whole of the Americas from south to north. Certainly living their dream!

872 rides 

Highway 10 in the North of Ecuador

A Traffic Jam in the Jungle

After a surprisingly long wait in a village where everyone whizzed around on motorbikes or sat totally crushed with ten others in one car, I got long ride all the way to La Hormiga, close to the Ecuadorian border. The highways through the mountains and jungle in this part of Colombia were stunning, if sometimes abysmally unmaintained. At one point I saw a tiny monkey dash across the road and climb up a sign post. I squealed uncontrollably loudly, to the amusement of my driver.

A couple of hours later I was surprised to find us approaching the end of a long line of stationary vehicles in the middle of absolute jungly nowhere. For the first time in my life, I was completely unbothered by a traffic jam. The views were incredible! 

That night was the second in a row sleeping on my mat on a hotel room floor after a fried chicken dinner, courtesy of a generous new amigo.

861 Rides 

Highway 45 in the South of Colombia

Third Wheeling a Romantic Day

This morning, as I was walking out of the Tatacoa desert, I got picked up by a young couple who were driving a long way home, in the direction I needed to go. Perfect! They were also making a few stops on route, at rivers and waterfalls, and I was more than happy to tag along on the mini adventure. 

855 Rides 

Tatacoa Desert at Sunset

How do you get two motorbikes on a canoe?

In Aipe, I had to follow a footpath through the fields to find the edge of the river where I could catch a canoe across to Villavieja. The footpath kept forking and as the cows weren't much help, I just had to guess. I ended up on the river bank where I found an elderly barefooted man fishing. He told me I'd gone wrong so he walked me back a bit to set me off in the right direction. 

I got back to the river, further up stream, to find a group fishing by dragging nets through the water. They told me I was in the right place for the canoe and, with immense gusto, all yelled and screamed to beckon it from somewhere out of sight.

Three Colombians on motorbikes also appeared. They were very friendly and we established that I could go with them to the Tatacoa desert once we crossed the river. They honked their horns and eventually the canoe arrived. The group who were fishing left, and I realised they had been waiting with me without needing the canoe themselves. How kind!

We loaded two bikes and the two women onto the canoe. I really didn't think it looked possible, but somehow it worked and off they went. The canoe returned and we loaded the final bike on and off we went. The canoe rocked in the fast running river and I couldn't help but envision the three of us, plus the bike, and my bag/life tumbling into the water.

My new friend Luis had a stuffed monkey called Fifi attached to his bike. For those that don't know, I travelled with a stuffed monkey called Norman attached to my rucksack for almost a year. I found him in Black Rock Desert at Burning Man festival, the first place I went to on this trip. One day in Mexico, after hauling my rucksack between pick-ups, cars and lorries, while standing under a bridge on the highway, I looked down at my pack and realised that Norman was nowhere to be seen. Of course, I was upset to have lost my little buddy, but after a year of travelling I was very accustomed to losing things, breaking things and having things stolen. I had been toughened up and hardened to bear this heartbreak with little pain. 

I relaid this story to Luis and he said he wanted to give me Fifi. 'I know you'll look after her well and will take her to all kinds of places.' And so now my rucksack and I have a new pal to bumble around with! 

851 Rides

Three people, two bikes and one canoe

A New Crew of Mates

I spent a few days with Yensy and her crew of 20-year-old mates in Villavicencio. On motorbikes we ventured up into the mountains to clamber along creeks and find waterfalls, into town to hang out in the park (this took me back to my teenage years!) or to find decent pizza, and generally discover spots where my travel buddy could take plenty of selfies. One evening, five of us piled onto two bikes, precariously balancing enough stuff for all of us to camp out at an impressive view point overlooking the town. After staring at the view for hours and dining on crisps and beer, we all squeezed into one tent for a sleep over!

I really enjoyed hanging out with this lot, who were so open, kind and fun. Even if I did choke a couple of times on the smell of uber sweet and potent perfumes and aftershaves. 

841 Rides 

Up into the mountains near Villavicencio

Zapato de Oro (The Golden Shoe)

I often get rides from engineers, normally driving long distances to reach a project they're to work on. Like this morning, where my first ride was with two middle-aged men who were endearingly excited about passing their long journey to work by interrogating (in a friendly manner, of course) a random foreign lady. These two chaps were hilarious and for the two hours I was in the car with them we didn't stop chatting. They even took me for breakfast, where I struggled to get down a bowl of rib soup, a plate of scrambled eggs, another plate of thick fried cheesy pancakes, a hot chocolate which came with a slab of cheese and a croissant. This was another lesson in how Colombians can eat in vast quantities! And if I leave the ordering up to them, I'm waddling out of the restaurant with some leftovers.

Elder proclaimed that Ramón's true name was Zapato de Oro, which means The Golden Shoe, because of his to-die-for talent in salsa dancing. Unfortunately, I never got to see whether Ramón could live up to such a title. But if I had to guess, appearance is probably deceiving and he's a ferocious demon on the dance floor.

847 Rides 

San Augustine

A Night Under the Full Moon

This morning Yensy prepared me a chilled drink I'd never had before, and would never have thought of making: blended pumpkin, milk and sugar. It was delicious! After an incredible amount of faffing on her part, and waiting on mine, we set off with Iron, the ironically named tiny Shitzu.

Our first ride was with the police! Who were obviously bored, driving their pick-up around the dirt roads of this very small and quiet mountain town. I've no idea why this work required all four of them in the one vehicle.

A few rides later we were being driven by a wonderfully generous and friendly man who decided to take us via his aunt's house, up in the mountains, and then on to a road-side cafe for lunch. I had no idea what to order. New country, new food, all with names I did't know. My two companions navigated this potential minefield for me and I was happy to be presented with a large bowl of steaming potato, pork and veggie soup. They'd chosen well! Moments later, a huge plate with rice, grilled beef, carrot and cucumber salad, baked potato and a creamy pumpkin mush was set in front of me. And then a giant strawberry smoothie. Blimey. This was a lot of food. But of course, I followed suit, did as the Colombian's do, and finished this mega meal, my smile wide but my stomach straining. 

By the evening, still feeling full, we reached El Emblase de Neusa. The moon was so bright, we didn't even need the torch as we walked down to the lake side to find a spot to camp.

838 Rides

Embalse de Neusa

My Number One Rule

Despite the insane heat, Yensy and I walked a couple of hours from her house, through some fields and down some dirt roads to a beautiful spot in the river. We were drenched in sweat and I immediately plunged in, between the rocks, to the surprisingly warm water. It was a gorgeous place to spend the afternoon.

On the way home, with the two dogs in tow, thunder began to rumble above us. The blue sky and sweltering sun had been quickly replaced by grey clouds, which I was zealously thankful for. However, my gratitude soon turned to horror as the heavens opened and an incomprehensible quantity of water rained down upon us. In no time at all, we were totally soaked to the bone, hair stuck to our faces, wading through the newly formed streams and backpacks sodden.

Fortunately today, as every other day, I did abide by my number one rule on the road. Always, always, ALWAYS carry zip-locks. 

Río Apula

Apulo

I escaped the madness of Bogotá to the small mountain town of Apulo. There I met Yensy, my new Couch Sufing host. She had already been planning a trip to visit some friends and some pretty spots in central Colombia, so I tagged along.

835 Rides

The park and main square in Apulo

Bogotá

I was met at the airport by Fernando, my new couch surfing host. We took the bus back to his house, I dumped my stuff, and we went out to a cheap restaurant for lunch. I had a typical plate of rice, beans, fried egg, fried plantain, avocado, crackling and a fried slab of something like yuka. I covered it all in dollops of hot sauce, naturally. 

I stayed two nights in the city and was able to have a good explore. There is an area, beside the cathedral, which is pretty. Colonial buildings line the narrow hilly streets and it's all rather charming. The rest of the city is like any other: tall office buildings, people bustling from here to there and traffic up to your eyeballs.

A highlight was when Fernando took me on the motorbike up to a viewpoint after nightfall. It was beautiful to see an endless sprawl of twinkling lights swimming under Venus and Mars.

834 Rides

Mirador over Bogotá

The Love Burn

Over the weekend I went to the Love Burn music and arts festival in Virginia Key, near Miami. The location was amazing: a long sandy beach with clear turquoise water on a lush, green, palm covered island. The event is a regional burn and so follows the 10 principles of Burning Man. For those that don't know, Burning Man is a huge festival that takes place in the middle of Black Rock Desert in Nevada. It's quite the spectacle! The first thing I did on this trip was attend BM in September 2015 along with 70,000 other people.

My favourite of the principles is: no money, no commerce. Attendees bring all that they may require for the event: food, water, booze: and spend the week participating in a "gifting economy", everybody sharing what they have for the sake of sharing, without expectation of receiving anything in return. This obviously makes for an incredible environment to be in. Another golden principle is: leave no trace. Everyone is responsible for removing all of their rubbish, down to the last cigarette butt and bottle cap.

My weekend was full of beach, bass and bacon (my camping neighbours were always cooking up a surplus) and finally capped off by the burn! After a performance from fire dancers and a firework display, a huge wooden love heart was set ablaze. The crowd howled and roared as we watched the flames rise higher and the embers sail up into the night sky. A long night of dancing ensued!

The Burning of the Love Heart

 

The Hitchhiker: a Totally Untrained Counsellor

It is not uncommon for someone giving me a ride to, almost immediately, share their life story, their darkest secrets, their worst fears and most treasured hopes.

I have some theories as to why that is.

Firstly, both of us have made a leap to take a chance on a complete stranger. That makes for an initial connection between us based on trust. Secondly, I have no relation to or knowledge about anybody in your life. Or you. I have no preconceptions on anything and so you don't feel a need to hold back in what you might say. Lastly, I will disappear entirely from your life very soon, and take all that you've said with me.

Today, amongst seven rides between St Augustine and Miami, I came across two people who particularly opened up about troubles they were having. I listened and hoped that they were somewhat relieved by being able to offload on a stranger.

Amongst the many things I've learned from meeting so many people, is the fact that everyone is suffering with something, big or small, always. So let's do our best to look out for each other. Always.

831 Rides

Virginia Key Beach Park

 

The "Inoffensive" Request

This morning a middle-aged guy in his work van gave me a short ride out of St Augustine to the I95. He wasn't very talkative and we had been sitting in silence for a few minutes when we said, 'Can I ask you something?'

'Sure.'

'But please don't be offended.'

'OK.'

'You really shouldn't get offended.'

'Right...?'

'Will you give me a blow job?'

'No!'

'Even if I pay you?'

'Definitely not.'

I returned to staring out the window, stifling my laughter, and trying, but wholeheartedly failing, to not be offended.

821 Rides

Sunrise in St Augustine

 

The Tree Climber

This is Henry. He gave me a long ride down towards Miami. The back of his car was full of big green coconuts that he'd retrieved from the top of some coconut trees. Using a machete, he opened a coconut for each of us to drink the sweet water and then cracked one open so I could devour the creamy flesh. I felt like I was back in Central America again! Delicious.

829 Rides

By a petrol station somewhere along the I95

 

My Birthday in Savannah

I met Brandon in Arcata in California back in November, both of us sleeping on the sofas at a couch surfing host's house. He lives in Savannah and a visit to see him over my birthday worked out perfectly!

We went for a huge breakfast that we spent the next few hours waddling off as we explored the town. Savannah is gorgeous, full of beautiful town houses, typical American porches, cast iron railings and small grassy squares with fountains and ornate gazebos. The streets are lined with trees draped in Spanish moss, and at points it's easy to believe you've taken a step back in time, or into Europe.

After a short boat ride along the river and more orange juice than I had room for (turning 25 can cause us to do all kids of wild things) we drove out to the beach. I couldn't have been happier, walking on the sand, listening to the rhythm of the waves and dancing like a champion to an ensemble of Paul Simon with this hilarious chap I'd met at the other side of the country.

'Same faces, different places' is one of my favourite slogans for my trip, and a reason it's been so hard for me to feel lonely.

We went for dinner at an "English Pub" called Churchill's. It's wasn't that much like a pub, but I did have steak and ale pie which secured a huge grin on my face for the rest of the beer filled night!

Tybee Island

 

Riding with the Po-Po in South Carolina

On my way from Asheville, North Carolina, to Savannah in Georgia, I scored a ride with a sherif. He was off duty and driving his cop car home. I didn't even have my thumb up, he just pulled up beside me as I walked towards an entry ramp and asked if I needed help.

My bag was given the front seat, while I had to fold my not very long limbs into the cage at the back. How anybody taller than me fits in here is a total mystery. There were bars on the windows and a metal grating between myself and my chauffeur. I had my face pressed up against the gap in the plexiglass so that I could hear and be heard. Comfort for a convict.

He always addressed me as 'mam' and politely opened the door for me to get in and out, although the security of the car did mean that I couldn't escape the cage without his help.

820 Rides

Cramped in the back of the cop car

 

Snow in Asheville

I haven't seen snow in quite a while!

814 Rides

Outside my friend Zach's house in north Asheville

A Tour Through the North Georgia Mountains

My Couch Surfing host was kind enough to drive me to a couple of State Parks so that I could hike hike hike, and get in some good views. The sun was shining, the landscape was glorious, and we had ice-cream for lunch.

Not as desert. 

As the whole of our lunch. 

Tallulah Gorge State Park

Mountains of North Georgia

Square Dancing at the Folk School

This evening I was taken to the John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, North Carolina. People can attend courses at this school, normally for a week, on all kinds of traditional skills, crafts and music. Every Tuesday, the school runs a contra, circle and square dancing class for all students and any locals who want to join in. I'd never done any dancing like this before, so at points I was a bit lost, but it was fun! The caller shouts/sings instructions to all of the pairs who do a lot of swinging and do-si-do-ing. I basically spent the whole hour skipping around the room, holding hands with lots of different people, and trying not to get too dizzy. It was charming! 

808 Rides

A Square Dance... I think...

A Brief March on the Appalachia Trail

It took only three rides to get from Marietta to the mountain town of Blairsville. My first ride, Andrew, was kind enough to take me well out of the city as a favour, and take me for some Mexican chicken soup! 

A prim couple leaving church took me a few exits down the highway, and then a father and son kindly drove me all the way to my new hosts' front door, despite it being a huge detour for them. Dwight spent the whole ride telling me about his childhood growing up in the mountains of North Carolina, which resembled the landscape we were winding through in north Georgia.  

Much to my delight, I was welcomed in with a cup of tea! I was totally ecstatic to be in the mountains again, and desperate to get hiking. And so, despite the rain and dwindling daylight, I was driven to Neel Gap to stomp out a 6 mile section of the Appalachia Trail. By the time I'd finished I was totally soaked through, hair plastered to my face, boots squelching, but grinning from ear to ear. 

807 Rides

The Appalachia Trail 

Today I was Mistaken for an Escort

I was walking towards the highway and thumbing when a middle-aged gentleman stopped and offered me a ride. He drove straight into the gas station half a block away and asked, 'So you're not dating or nothing?' I was confused by his question and answered, 'No... Why?' He replied, 'I thought... maybe... you were trying to make some money?'

Ahh. This is not the first time a gentleman has misread my presence on the side of the road.

'Nope. I genuinely just want a ride.'

I got out and walked to the highway entry ramp, laughing, trying to work out who was more disappointed by our conversation.

I didn't get photo of this bizarre experience. So here instead is one of a canon in Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park where I spent the day hiking.

803 Rides

Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park

Providence Canyon and the Man from Kentucky

Getting out of Tallahassee proved to be very straight forward. It took two rides, the second of which was with a middle aged man with a southern accent so thick, I was initially unsure if he was even speaking English. 

Three rides later, I found myself in Georgia, somewhere on highway 27 at a cross roads. It truly was the middle of nowhere. There was a little wooden house with a quaint porch and rocking chairs. And that was it. The morning mist still hung low, and I could only see long, straight, flat roads heading out in four directions. 

This is one reason I love hitchhiking. How else would I end up in such a random there-is-literally-nothing-here place? It's a window to parts of the world that I otherwise would not see.

A huge red pick-up whizzed by but then skidded to a stop about 30 metres further down the road. I grabbed my rucksack and ran. (There is always that slight panic that the driver might change his mind). A 30 metre sprint is not easy with your whole life rattling around on your back, so after flinging my pack in the bed, I planted myself rather ungracefully, panting, in the front seat. I'd already clocked the licence plate but was thrilled to be told my new friend was from Kentucky! And was therefore driving all the way to (and then past) my destination of Atlanta! 

I'd planned to make a stop off at Providence Canyon on route and so began planting my not-so-subtle hints for a quick detour. These turned into suggestions, and then instructions, as I convinced the man from Kentucky that it would be an enjoyable and worthwhile 20 minutes of extra journey time. And it was! The canyon is little but stunning, with sandstone walls changing from red to white. 

After hours of conversation and a fast-food lunch, we arrived to the petrol station where my new couch surfing host was coming to collect me. James thanked me for making a good portion of his journey a lot less boring and gave me a three-blade knife, mounted in stag horn.

'A memento,' he said. 'I'm glad I picked you up today.' 

And off he went.

800 Rides

Providence Canyon State Park 

Lake Talquin State Forest

Whilst staying with some university students in Tallahassee, I went for a hike in Lake Talquin State Forest. I hitched a ride with Thalia, another student, who drove past her house to the forest as a favour.

She ended up hiking with me for a bit and we talked and talked about travelling! She'd done a solo trip to Europe a couple of years before. When we parted ways she said, 'This is exactly what I needed.' Which was so nice to hear. I like to think that all the detours and change-of-plans that I inadvertently induce in people are for the better! 

Nine miles, a tin of chickpeas and a nap-on-a-bench later, I emerged from the trail. At that very moment, a guy stepped out from a different path and headed towards the only car in the car park. 

'Are you headed to Tallahassee?'

He was. Bingo.

793 Rides

Fort Braden Trails in Lake Talquin State Forest

The Sabal Trail Pipeline

I was hitch hiking from Sanford to Tallahassee when, as is sometimes the way, my journey took an unexpected turn.

I had been dropped somewhere west of Lake City, at a huge petrol station off the I10. I'd been there for about 3 minutes when a staff member came out tell me 'you have to leave.' Some establishments, particularly those of the big brands, have idiotic rules about prohibiting panhandling on their property. This is not the first time someone in a logo-clad polo shirt has instructed me, following direction from the mysterious powers-that-be barking at them down a walkie-talkie, to disappear and save their poor customers from my indecent and criminal harassment.

As I was explaining that 'leaving' was precisely what I was trying to do, a dreadlocked guy, about my age, came to my rescue. (I don't think I've ever been denied a ride by anyone with dreads by the way.) He and three others were on their way to the county court house to meet eight friends who were being released from jail. They had been arrested last night from their nearby camp while protesting the construction of the Sabal Trail gas pipeline, and as I was told repeatedly, they hadn't been doing anything unlawful.

I'm sure you've all heard of what is happening at Standing Rock. Well, this is apparently happening all over the United States. Outside the court house a group of people were gathered with a cameraman ready to support their comrades. This group was incredibly welcoming and they had a lot to share about the pipeline protest. Many had also been at Standing Rock. 

I didn't stay very long, (I wanted to make sure I'd arrive in Tallahassee before nightfall), but when I was given a ride back to the I10, I felt very impressed by these people's passion and will to stand up for something they really believe it. It turned out to be a very inspirational detour.

791 Rides

An empty road somewhere in Florida 

The Florida National Scenic Trail

Whilst staying in the Ocala National forest I hiked a 22 mile section of the Florida National Scenic Trail from highway 40 to Salt Springs.

I walked through woodlands and prairies, past small lakes and ponds, saw bluejays and turkeys, and met a very talkative retired man from Alabama hiking as much as he could of the United States. Sounds like an ideal retirement to me!

783 Rides

Early morning mist in Juniper Springs in Ocala National Forest

A Car Crash in an RV Park

My Couch Surfing hosts in Homossasa Springs were kind enough to drive me all the way to my next stop in the Ocala National Forest, via a game of disc golf! (An ingenious blend of golf and frisbee.) After a few laps around the RV Park in Salt Springs, we successfully located my new Couch Surfing host. I spent four days in the woods with a very open and generous guy, in a ludicrously tight knit community.

On arrival, I was immediately introduced to neighbours who, I soon came to realise, formed part of a constant stream of friends appearing and disappearing from the yard, nearly always in a golf cart. I spent my time in the forest hiking, kayaking, sitting around a crackling fire, watching every breathtaking sunset over the lake and trying to remember more names than my straining brain could possibly cope with.

Salt Springs and it's people have a small-town southern vibe: parked outside the local bar were a row of leather-clad Harley's, every song at the karaoke night was country (we were treated to Jolene by Dolly Parton twice), the fashion of choice usually entailed plenty of camo, and of course, everyone was wonderfully hospitable.

One morning, I was sitting outside with a group having breakfast, when a phone rang. Andrea's 19 year old son was calling. He had been in a car crash. Immediately, all who were present jumped to their feet and loaded into two cars to race to the rescue. There were no injuries, but the car was in bad shape having collided with a tree and ended up buried in the bushes. Not long after we arrived, another car of RV residents appeared to offer assistance.

I thought it pleasantly surprising how many people were rushing to help in whatever way they could. The news of the crash spread like wildfire and everyone was desperate to share consoling word... Or lend a truck.

782 Rides

Sunset over Little Lake Kerr 

Manatees, Wolves and Lou the Hippopotamus

One sunny morning, while staying with a fantastic couple in Homosassa Springs launching a mini-farm in their garden, I was taken to the local wildlife park so that I could get a closer look at some of Florida's native creatures. First off, in the phenomenally clear spring water, I saw large grey manatees floating just under the surface. They are strange looking animals, most closely related to elephants, with a short and fat trunk of a nose and huge paddle-like tails. There were plenty to see after a few days of lower temperatures as they'd swum in from the Gulf of Mexico to bob around in the warm water.

Whilst the manatees were wild, the rest of the animals were captive, and most had been rescued. The most famous, a hippopotamus called Lou and non-US native, was a retired film star who was now an honorary citizen of Florida. A sign beside his enclosure warned all visitors to stay well outside of his 'spray-zone', the area in which his swishing tail could easily toss his fresh excrement. There were also alligators, who looked so motionless they could have been fake. I was saddened to see two red wolves pacing around a small enclosure, of which only 100 are left in the wild!

There were plenty of birds too, many in open pens but with no chance of escape as they had injured or missing wings. My heart split in two as I watched a little lone osprey, staring at the sky above him, jump determinedly and flap his one and a half wings, only to lift off about a meter and fall back down to the ground. A happily-ever-after Disney movie flashed before my eyes. I envisioned crowds of tear streaked faces glistening as they watched Oscar the Osprey soar over mountains into the setting sun, his bionic wing clinking and sparkling in the orange sky. But alas, such robotics are probably inaccessible for the Homosassa Wildlife Park.

Those children's films really did not prepare me for the cold hard lessons I would have to learn about this brutal world.

779 Rides

A Manatee at The Homosassa Wildlife Park

The Self-appointed Grandfather and a Bite of Alligator

My parents left me at the side of highway 27, on the very outskirts of Miami. I’d just spent two fantastic weeks with them after 16 months of being apart and it was very sad to see them go. However, I couldn’t help but smile as I was back on the road, thumb at the ready, eager for some surprises that inevitably come with hitchhiking.

I was waiting for less than 2 minutes when a lorry chugged to a stop beside me. I climbed aboard and was greeted by the ear-splitting barks of a tiny wide-eyed dog. Nibbles was James’s vicious and easily transportable guard dog, and he evidently took his role very seriously. Throughout the 200 mile long ride, that little mite had his psychotic unblinking eyes fixed on me. If I moved suddenly, reached for something in my bag, even so much as looked at the mutt, he would erupt into a jumping ball of ferocious yapping, and keep me in check.

Meanwhile, James was a pleasant chap and we enjoyed each other’s company and conversation. We clashed on quite a lot of topics (he voted for Trump to give you an idea) but he did have some great stories from his days of hitchhiking in the US as a 14 year old runaway.

A couple more short rides got me 30 miles north of Lakeland where I was dropped at a petrol station. The first person I approached, Ric, 65 and local, said he’d be happy to give me a ride all the way to Homosassa where I had a Couchsurfing host lined up. He was retired and had nothing else to do that afternoon and so, after swinging by his house so that he could change out of his slippers, we set off. In Homosassa he took me for a beer and my first ever try of alligator! It was like eating fish flavoured chicken nuggets.

When he learned that this “friend” I was going to go and stay with was actually some guy off the internet who I’d never met, he insisted they meet. When Emerson arrived, Ric was 5 beers down and zealously proclaiming that he was looking out for this wonderful young woman whom he loved as a granddaughter. Ric recounted the story of how we’d met, 3 or 4 times actually, and soon decided that my life probably wasn’t in danger. After a big rib-crushing squeeze, he let me go.

778 rides

Somewhere on Highway 27, Florida