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.

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Cramped in the back of the cop car

 

Snow in Asheville

I haven't seen snow in quite a while!

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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! 

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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. 

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Somewhere on Highway 27, Florida

771 Rides... and Counting

On 28th August 2015, a month after my graduation from Bristol University, I flew from London to San Francisco to begin an adventure in the Americas. I’ve been on the road now for just over 16 months, as far south as the Caribbean beaches of Panama and as far north as the magical woodlands near Portland, Oregon. My route has been a seemingly senseless zig-zag, a yo-yo between the United States, Mexico and Central America. It has been directed by a desire to feast my eyes on all the finer details of Mother Nature’s wonders, and has been dictated by VISA restrictions, music festivals, friends-with-plans and plenty of hitch-hikes that keep on giving.

I move from A to B on the generosity of strangers and have covered thousands of miles with just my thumb. To date, I have been in 771 different different vehicles: cars, lorries, vans, motorbikes, tuk tuks, pick-ups, buses, coaches, a few times with the police and even a dust-bin lorry. That means 771 different conversations (some of them mimed), 771 perspectives, 771 opinions, 771 lives into which I have had, at the very least, a brief glimpse, and at most, I have truly shared and experienced.

I have learnt that the people of this planet come in so many forms and that predominately, overwhelmingly, they are good and kind. They want to share and want to learn and are so often full of surprises.

Until now, I have been sending my stories by email to friends and family at home, as well as to new faces I’ve met along the way. This year, I have decided to get my stories, musings, photos and tips for surviving on the measliest of budgets down in a blog. And of course, I’ll be keeping my hitch-hiking tally up to date! Let’s see where I am on this this big ball of green and blue when it ticks over to 1000…

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Somewhere in Chiapas, Mexico