Pargue

Si Truss

Si + Andy + Sarah`s Story

Okay, I feel I need to set the scene a little. It’s 8am and the third morning we’ve been hitching, that’s just over 48 hours we’ve been on the road, of which only five hours have been spent actually in any mode of transport.

We’re in Calais, as we have been for 24 hours now. Yesterday was a day of standing on the road side as hundreds of holiday makers poured off the ferries from Dover and drove past us with a smile and a little chuckle, or a shake of the head or, most commonly, no reaction at all.

During the day we became less and less optimistic, gradually changing from a hopeful request to take us to Germany, into a desperate plea to drive us anywhere that was not Calais.

Eventually we started walking, which gets us to a truck stop a mile or two down the road, where we then got stuck for the night.

With no idea of which direction to find a hostel, we made our way into the service station bar, which is packed with truckers.

After a lot of fruitless networking a kindly Spanish lorry driver takes pity on us and offers to let us sleep in the freezer compartment of his truck, which is, depressingly, our best and only option for the night. So I spend another night roughing it (the previous night was spent in the entrance of a services on the M25).

Laying on a cold metal floor in my sleeping bag I began to contemplate how many times easyjet would have flown to Prague from the UK since we’ve been hitching.

So, it’s the morning after and our outlook is bleak, due to the fact that, we’re hitching in a three, and none of the multitude of lorries around us are willing to take three passengers due to it being illegal and also it’s a Sunday and it’s illegal for most lorries to drive in France on a Sunday.

However, due to the combination of a small miracle, some confusion and our youthful desperation we manage to coax a lift to Germany from a Polish lorry driver, who dropped us off at the border. At another truck stop. Where we get stuck for another night.

Alright, fast-forward 48 hours more. We’re very near the Czech border somewhere in Bavaria, the home stretch if you will. Suffice to say, crossing Germany was a struggle but we managed it, spending two more nights rough on the way as well as meeting several other

‘charity-hitchers’ and getting into one or two sketchy situations, but we managed it.

We’re stood at probably the loneliest services I’ve ever seen and hardly any traffic is passing us, it’s getting dark, there’s nowhere to sleep and the sky is threatening rain or even snow.

Then, thank god, a car slows down and stops next to us, yet our hope is misplaced. It’s the police.

Our passports are checked and an extensive search entails (they won’t believe that we’re not carrying drugs.) An hour later a second set of police arrive, due to an apparent lack of communication the procedure is repeated. It gets dark; Prague suddenly seems much further away. We give up and change our sign to and get to the nearest train station and reach some civilisation, another night roughing it is, by this time, unthinkable.

A car pulls over and without hesitation we jump in. As we pull away we explain our situation to the driver. He doesn’t think there are any trains running, this could be a problem.

There’s a long silence. “I have an idea,” suggests our saviour of a driver, “I need to drive through the Czech Republic tomorrow, I’ll drop you in Prague and find you somewhere to stay tonight.” One hour and several of the best beers I’ve ever tasted later we’re in a brilliantly friendly and cheap B&B in the Bavarian countryside.

After the best night’s sleep of my life we’re driven to Prague the next morning (via a tour of the largest brewery in the Czech Republic.) Any bad memories of the previous five days are completely reduced to a mere footnote of a great trip.

Needless to say hitchhiking rules.