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It was now 7pm. I was exhausted following the ten-hour hitch and getting a bit desperate as car after car passed me, despite the placard I held which read 'FRANCE: £10?' Just as the streetlights began to buzz a van screeched to a halt a couple of hundred metres down the road, I grabbed my impossibly heavy rucksack and lurched after them. "Ten Quid?" he asked, before opening the door of their small van. I was to share the back with several crates of beer that they'd just bought in the duty free...

European Tales: Switzerland 1996, a lengthy tale

Joseph Tame
2006-06-30 17:53:26

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and a sign reading "Abroad". I'd said my goodbyes as if I would never see anyone again - at that time I had no idea where I really end up. I wasn't sad to be leaving the place and people that I had known for most of my life. The challenge in front of me dominated my thoughts

Reaching Folkestone on the south coast of England was a little more difficult that on previous trips. The real trouble started as I approached London's orbital route, the notorious M25. Having been dropped on the wrong side of it due to a misunderstanding by the driver of a cement mixer, I walked for two hours in order to find a bridge. Three lifts and several hours later I found myself on the wrong side of London going around the M25 the wrong way. Eventually, however, things sorted themselves out, and by late afternoon I was standing in the very lay-by where, on my previous trip to France I realised I'd forgotten my passport. No such mistake this time. It was now 7pm. I was exhausted following the ten-hour hitch and getting a bit desperate as car after car passed me, despite the placard I held which read 'FRANCE: £10?' Just as the streetlights began to buzz a van screeched to a halt a couple of hundred metres past me down the road, I grabbed my impossibly heavy rucksack and lurched after them. "Ten Quid?" he asked, before opening the door of their small van. I was to share the back with several crates of beer that they had just bought in the duty free for a friend's wedding. There was no chance of a lift further than the French Chunnel terminal as they were simply returning on the next train. We cleared customs with only a verbal warning that I shouldn't be hitching. The journey was quick and smooth, a miracle of modern engineering! On the other side they left me at a motorway toilet-stop; I spent my first night abroad feeling alone and miserable, having to put my tent up in a dark soggy bog in order that I wouldn't be seen from the road. Thankfully ...