Hitchhiking in Australia part 2
My alarm went off at 5.30am but I decided to allow myself to sleep in until 6am. I dined on a can of red bull and a cigarette for breakfast and was stood waiting on the highway by 6.10am.
Time slips into a vacuum whilst standing by the side of the road, so I do not know how long I had been waiting. I don’t think it was very long when a white Toyota Hiace pulled in for me. The driver had a full white beard, shorts, a thick jumper on complete with blundy boots and went by the name of Ken. Ken was an avocado farmer on his way to a family get together outside of Newcastle – this was to perfect. Ken was an old hippy type, who had himself up until recently hitchhiked and surfed most of Australia. We talked about Kerouac, The electric kool-aid acid test, smoking marijuana, surfing, restoring old Holdens (he had one from the 1950s) and general travelling tales. I could not have dreamt of a better ride (actually yes I could; it involves a campervan of Swedish girls) the conversation was pleasant and easy, so the time flew. He told me he was only going a few kilometres down the road, in fact it turned out to be more like 300 kilometres! That is one of the things I love about Australians; massive distances to us Brits are nothing to them.He eventually dropped me at a round about as he was heading off to Raymond Terrace, I thanked him kindly and set off.
I chose at this point to use the toilet bushes to relieve myself. Upon stumbling back out onto the road, a car pulled in. ‘How could he have seen me though?’ I thought; not wanting to waste an opportunity I ran up to the passenger door. I was met by a completely surprised face, but neither the less I jumped in. Instead of finding a fellow hitcher who recognised my need for a lift hence stopping, I met a very smart businessman who was on his way to the office! (Not only was it a Sunday, but it was also a bank holiday weekend!) GTD or what? Obviously he recognised I was another one of life’s achievers so he took pity on me and said he’d drop me at the next good spot.
This is where it all started getting confusing for me, in a place called Hexham. There was a hectic intersection and there were 2 roads I could have taken. After being told I was on the wrong road I decided to chance it, and whilst standing on the New England Highway I had a bad feeling I was going wrong.
The problem was I’d lost the number 1 Pacific Highway, one minute I was on it and the next nothing! There was either the ‘111’ or the ‘15’ highway. After standing on the highway for about 25 minutes a beat up old estate pulled in for me. Out stepped a youngish looking chap who looked like he had stepped straight out from deliverance; eyes facing off in opposite directions and the duelling banjos playing in the background (well maybe just in my head!) I jumped in with the feeling of ‘oh shit’. He informed me not only was I on the wrong road, but it was highly illegal to hitch where I was! (There was even a police car 20 minutes up the road, who would have doled out a nice fine for me). The driver informed me that he was taking me to Dubbo. I had no idea where this was and started to feel a good sweat coming on, which only increased with deliverance boy’s laughter about my stupidity. Without wanting to appear to be rude, I asked him if he could please drop me at a train station and I would catch a train into Sydney as I was close enough. Luckily he obliged and I bid farewell.
Upon arriving in Sydney after spending a few hours on a coach, I promptly booked an overnight greyhound to Melbourne and with my remaining dollars, settled down in the nearest bar to drink as much beer as possible before my greyhound departed. I met a local in the bar who told me it was difficult to hitch the Hume highway, so I had made the best decision.
With a strong feeling of my own well being I decided to relax by sampling some of Nimbin’s finest and even eat some hash. I don’t really remember the few hours of waiting or even the coach ride, but I remember feeling pleased I had hitched this far (739kms/500miles)…not a bad effort!
The Greyhound trip to Melbourne went very quickly and before I knew it I was at Southern Cross station in one complete piece. It’s a shame hitchhiking has such a bad reputation as I had a lot of fun and arrived back in Melbourne with a few dollars in my pocket!
I was gutted not to have gone all the way to Melbourne via the power of the thumb but betime I got into Sydney all I wanted was to sit on a coach and not have to think about it anymore. I don’t regret this though as in the winter months it can be very cold when the sun goes down. Maybe next time I’ll time a hitchhiking trip for summer, the way it was intended I’m sure!
