Morocco

Armed with marker pens and cardboard, Cardiff students took to the streets, hitchhiking all in the name of charity

Cardiff’s streets were lined by students with their thumbs out on March 31, as 48 adventurous (some would say insane) hitchhikers set off on the journey across a continent to Morocco.

In twos and threes they accosted drivers throughout Britain, France and Spain in the name of charity Link Community Development.

They joined a further 642 British students, each required to raise at least £300 in a countrywide bid to raise £200,000 for the charity’s work on education in Africa.

Anticipating hours of exposure to the elements, sleeping rough and grappling with language barriers, the intrepid students held up their signs and set off down the M4.

Sam + Anna`s Story

Make yourself look harmless, perhaps a little geeky, hold up a pretty sign and hitching can be easy. Having a girl by your side is also a bonus.

We made it in 78 hours. That’s a mere 76 hours more than a plane ride which we got to spend hanging out with odd and eccentric lorry drivers.

The hardest part of the journey for us was getting out of Wales. Our first lift took us to a horrible junction just outside Newport where we were accompanied by dark clouds bursting with rain and thunder.

To arrive at the Portsmouth ferry port on time, we took a train from Newport and befriended the conductor so we could ride for free.

Two big lifts took us through France and most of Spain. We spent the nights in with the truck drivers, squashed up on their sofa-type beds, too hot and uncomfortable to sleep properly.

At the weekends in France and Spain there are restrictions on driving lorries, which was a welcome relief as we were tired of them. Our remaining eight lifts were in cars.

Hitchhiking is certainly a test of patience. For me, things always kick off in good spirits. Being on the road with only a vague destination brings a great sense of freedom. The drivers will smile, frown or even apologise for not picking you up. Some chavs usually whizz by and give you the middle finger.

Then time starts to trickle by with no offers and it’s easy to lose patience. At the point when I’m on the verge of tearing up the sign, a lift usually arrives. Then the excitement is back, you are on the road again and about to get into a car with a complete stranger.

I love that feeling.

Sam Smith

Helen + George`s Story

We’ll be there by Sunday, we joked as we lugged our stuff towards the M4 on Thursday afternoon.

Disbelieving our optimism, we held up our whiteboard for the first time of many – and were on our way towards London in minutes.

Proving the unpredictability of hitchhiking, we made it to Portsmouth three hours early for our ferry, while others got truly stuck in Newport and missed the crossing.

After a sleepless night on the ferry, Terry the tramp gave us our first lift in France. I initially thought he was joking that he even owned a car, due to his unkempt appearance, but he was the only person to agree to give us a lift from the ferry. I dutifully crammed myself into the backseat with all of Terry’s worldly belongings, as he had decided to move to France on a whim.

Travelling south, we got to Bordeaux before evening without much problem, and as the light faded, a Portuguese lorry driver stopped and offered us a lift all the way into Spain. Even though he was swilling cider and throwing nuts out of the window, we shrugged and climbed into the cab, committing ourselves to several hours of confusing conversation in a mixture of languages we couldn’t speak.

Too lazy to carry a tent, we slept on a groundsheet in a service station while our driver stayed in his cab. he morning drive took us across the top of Spain to Burgos, where we left our crazy lorry driver. Hitchhiking in Spain was considerably warmer and therefore more pleasant, making us less prone to the hitch-rage that can suddenly take hold when you’ve been at the side of the same road for hours.

The Spanish can be quite incredulous that you’re hitching through Spain if you are unable to speak Spanish, but most people are polite to hitchers, allowing an apologetic shrug if their car’s full or they’re going the wrong way.

We made it to beautiful Salamanca slowly, but our luck struck again just as we were giving up hope in the evening, when a man with a backseat full of lamp-stands offered us a lift to Seville.

We arrived at 3am, and, unsure what to do with ourselves at this time of night, found some abandoned grassland and set up camp.

We awoke to find ourselves surrounded by slugs, and beat a hasty retreat to the edge of the city to start hitching again.

A couple of guys picked us up on their way to Cadiz and took us to a village festival where the streets were filled with tents selling Serrano ham, barrelled port and plates of traditional food for 50 cents. Unfortunately, after these festivities they dumped us, slightly drunk and sunburnt, on a terrible road, obliging us to get a taxi elsewhere.

Finally we were in our last lift, still finding slugs in our backpacks, on the way to Algeciras – and it was only Sunday evening.

Chris + Will`s Story

After six days of singing, smiling, crying and indecent exposure we finally arrived in Morocco.

From my experience of hitching, it could never be described as routine. My hitching partner, Will, commented: “swings ‘n’ roundabouts innit!” about 183 times on the trip.

We started in Le Harve where the ferry dropped us off. It didn’t take long before we were getting into our first car. We sat, cross-legged in a middle-aged woman’s car boot and glanced at each other with grins of satisfaction. It had begun, we were finally hitching.

The next stop was not quite so easy. We stood in the rain trying to get picked up for over three hours.

France proved to be a fantastic location for hitchhiking. We never had to wait more than about three hours for a lift and the hospitality we received was incredible.

On one occasion we were invited back for dinner by a 24-year-old car seller who was driving us to Bordeaux. We were served roast duck by his wife and sat and watched Bruce Lee films.

Spain was spectacular, we travelled along winding motorway through the green and mountainous regions of the north.

One highlight was the stunning service station in a grey industrial estate south of Madrid. With its over-priced food, hospitable cold floor (perfect for laying your sleeping bag out on) and extremely reluctant lorry drivers it was a favourite location of ours. Spain proved to be a harder place to hitch.

We ended waiting to be picked up for around six hours on two occasions, but you know, “swings ‘n’ roundabouts innit!”

So after six days of hitching, do me and my hitching partner Will still like each other? Will we ever go hitchhiking again? Was it worth it and would I recommend hitchhiking to anyone else? Well, in reply to the last three questions anyway, the answer is yes!

Hitchhiking provides a new level of unpredictability, it allows you to meet people you would never normally meet and see places you may have overlooked or missed entirely if travelling on public transport.

Chris Rogers