Hitchventure 2012: Day 2...

I woke up really late. The sun was already up and it was about 8 o'clock. A lie-in if you ask me.

But I felt good, turns out stinging nettles make good bedding when laid on. I brushed my teeth and packed up, putting my long johns on over my shorts to get out of the wood alive and without big nettle bumps all over me.

At the services I found a shower... BLISS. Showers are awesome. If you haven't ever been without one, try. You will fall in love with the next one you see. So I stood there for ages, soaking up the hot water, I felt so good after and stood outside the services with a sign for West, sheepishly asking a few punters who were exiting.

Peter was a Doctor before retiring and offered to take me 20 miles down the road to Shrewsbury. He knew of a service station there and said it'd be ideal. I'm always cautious of taking other peoples opinions of hitching spots as, usually, they have never hitched themselves and so cannot judge whether a particular place will be good or not. Peter on the other hand was spot on. It was on a busy junction and had a lay-by on the road West which is what I wanted to take.

I waited about 30 minutes with no bites before the heavens opened. It chucked it down too, not rain, more sheets of water, like a waterfall. So I sat outside the Esso garage feeling like Jay or Silent Bob outside their convenience store. I still flew my sign. 'West'

Surprisingly I heard a shout from a little Suzuki something. "Where you off to?" came a weird, Devonshire/Welsh accent. Vicky was coming back from V Fest and she looked it! I explained I wanted to get to Snowdon eventually but anywhere in between would be good. She laughed and said she could take me to the bottom but she wasn't driving up!

So we sat for an hour an a half, driving down the A5, a beautiful road, and chatted about marriage, child birth and other bizarre subjects. It was cool. She rang her husband who had the thickest Welsh accent I've ever heard, so much so I couldn't understand him. She thought that her picking up a hitchhiker would be an issue but, I think, he wasn't too fussed and more concerned with which baby pudding to buy their 6 month old for dinner.

I was in Llanberis by 2pm. Sat at the bottom of Snowdon and in the rain. My cheap £4 Tesco umbrella had broken and I was getting wet. The road to the Youth Hostel was about half a mile of 30 - 40 degree uphill that killed my legs with my pack on my back. I was treated to a disheartening note on the door of the Hostel. "Sorry no vacancies tonite". Damnit. I walked around the building looking for an alcove or even a pair of trees where I could string up my tarp.

I found quite a large room on the basement level which had chairs stacked neatly in the corner. It must have been a meeting room or something similar, but it was empty, and that's what mattered to me. That was my haggling weapon.

I waited around outside as the weather improved, topping up the tan on my neck! I began to become curious as to how 'youthful' this youth hostel was as reams of 40 somethings with glasses arrived or departed from the keypad controlled door. I personally thought the YHA had a rule that it's accommodation was suitable for youngsters (under 30) who needed cheap, no thrills accommodation to help them in their travels.

Well it turns out it isn't. Not his particular Youth Hostel atleast. It's more of a hotel i'm afraid to say. To be booked well in advance by 40 - 60 years olds or families with young children. I was quite disappointed when the Warden said I could not have a space, even when I notion-ed towards the, seemingly, disused meeting room. They could not spare a space big enough for a young traveller to lie down. I guess times have changed.

I continued up the mini mountain road to a campsite about 200 meters away. I explained that I had little money and needed somewhere to string my tarp for the night. "Your a student right?" Said the farmer with another thick Welsh accent. "Erm ... I can be?!" and he charged me £5 instead of the usual 10er.

I fashioned a pretty terrible tarp setup and hurled my bivvi under. I ate a whole load of Bombay mix whilst I watched 'Kurt and Courtney' (Documentary) on my netbook and swatted at the hundreds of midges that flew around my head.

I'd had a mixed day. I'd made huge progress hitching wise with a direct, 1 ride, stint to Llanberis, but my high was ruined by the apparent loss in morals of the YHA. Still nothing could be worse than shooting yourself because of a crazy wannabe rockstar misses.


Plus all I had to do was lean out of my tarp to look at this! Tomorrow, I walk up it!

Hitchventure 2012: Day 1...

So that was a bit embarrassing! A full blown mental meltdown quite publicly on VagabondingAdam Facebook account! Sorry about that!

I really don't know what came over me. I was sat at Pease Pottage for a good hour and a half. There were no takers for my 'M25 East' sign. Just a few good people asking if I wanted to go West, towards Heathrow.

All of a sudden I just freaked. There were a few trucks in the truck park from the continent. An Albanian, Lithuanian and others I couldn't work out. None of the drivers looked particular nice, clean or in anyway friendly. I started to worry about the channel crossing. What would it be like? Would I ever get a lift? I'd read loads on the internet before leaving and was bold as brass sitting at the PC at home, but now I was out there, really doing it. I was having a Britney moment.

It all got a little too much. I rang Kerry and urged her to bring me the Collins Handy Britain map as I only had the European one. Europe was out. I couldn't do it. My gut feeling told me not to and with Hitching, that is what you listen to. Not your heart or even your brain sometimes, but your gut.

I freaked a tiny bit more while she drove to me and ended up sitting in Crawley park while the car had some work done in the garage, grimacing through my teeth and audibly moaning at my disappointment. I had a chat with Kerry and she thought it was because of my control freak nature. She's probably right. There was just too many things that were out of my control. Language, ferry, places I'd never heard of, let alone knew where they were geographically. I would be totally removed from everything.

I rang my Mum (Yes I know, pissy girl again) and texted a few good mates. It was back on. Screw Europe with your funny voices and unknown places. Great Britain here we come.

Kerry dropped me back out to Pease Pottage and I proudly span my 'M25' sign with glee. This is what Hitching is about! Joy. There were 2 female hitchikers just round the corner. They wanted to get IN to London and not around so we agreed I could hitch in my spot and pass on any rides headed in. It took no longer than 20 minutes and I was in a car and on my way.

I got to Oxford services in one ride with a nice lady who was quite high up in a pyramid sounding business. She tried her hardest to get me to sign up but I've dabbled with Ponzi schemes before and it only produces losers. I entertained her babble though and she got me a hell of the way up the road.

Mark and Carly were next to pick me up. And in a magical film makers moment it was all caught on camera. They had just been to a lavish wedding in London with boating trips on the Thames and a full 3 course meal for 150 people!

They were bound for Manchester, where they lived, and were able to drop me off on the M6 just after Birmingham. Sam gave me a short trip down the road to Telford services where the sun started to go down. I'd travelled 180 miles in under 4 and a half hours. Quite an achievement!

I found a small wood next to the services and got stung to death getting in! I lay down my bivvi and didn't even set up a tarp. I was confident it wouldn't rain.

Biggest Adventure Yet...!

Hitchventure: Going South

I know it sounds crazy, I know it probably isn't advised... but its different. From tomorrow morning I will be hitchhiking to Barcelona, Spain ... or trying at least!

 I'm rocking a new quiff hairstyle courtesy of Mumma Vaga and have my best-est cheery chappy face on to try and get as many quick rides as I can, but deep down I ... am ... pooping it.

At the end of the day I've chosen to do this.

I'd like to go back to Barcelona. I have visited once before and it was a long weekend of drunken haziness so I'd like to re-visit with a clearer head.

Having said that the main goal (If there is one) of the trip is to get to a night club called Razzmattazz. It's basically clubbing heaven on earth. 5 warehouses all joined together, each playing a different genre of music. Cheap drinks, tables made out of concrete, rammed with up to 5000 people.

The 'goal' is very loose. If I don't make it to Barcelona and end up sleeping in Newhaven Ferry port for 8 days and coming back I will still be happy. The whole idea is to get back out there hitchhiking, exploring and interacting with everything/one in the world.

I've managed to amass a pile of probably unnecessary items of clothing and essentials for a ten day trip. I have to be back on English Terra firma, and preferably home, by 28th August as Kerry has an amazing couple of days planned camping and safari-ing at Longleat House from the 29th.

Whilst my pack and its contents looks big, it only weighs a mere 10kg which is more than comfortable.

So if you're anywhere between Horsham and Barcelona and you fancy giving us a lift, let me know... otherwise pray for fast, frequent, quality rides and keep checking back to see my progress!

Natives Chalet cookery course...

Kerry and I just got back from the Natives Chalet cookery course held at St Teresa's girls boarding school near Effingham, Dorking.

Boarding school accommodation

To say I want to go back is an understatement. Our course instructors were brilliant. Tony was a 50, possibly 60-something who jacked in a near 6 figure salary in London to pursue a better lifestyle and was now on his 9th season working in the Alps! He floats about in the summers, helping out at his friends' place, fishing and camping in the Highlands of Scotland and running a few cookery courses. Sounds like a life of bliss!

Dave had worked as a resort manager and was on hand to answer questions about what it was like to work a season. Unfortunately for him a mortgage and sprogs means he's had to bow out of seasonal work.

Going to a boarding school was a weird thing to start. We were allocated small boarding rooms to live in. When I tried piling in to Kerry's single room with her Tony pointed out that it was a single bed and I may be more comfortable in a room of my own!

Bread crumbed Fish, Beef Bourguignon and Carrot and coriander soup

I'd perused through the Natives Chalet cook book before. I even bought a copy! (Only for them to make it free online :() So I kind of already knew what to expect and had practiced some of the recipes at home.

The days involved splitting up in to teams of 3 or 4. These teams would then work together cooking parts of meals, cakes for afternoon tea and desserts which we all ate around a communal table and discussed.

After afternoon tea (16:30) we then had a bit of down time where we watched a few films and generally milled about. The team who were responsible for cooking dinner that night then had to be in the kitchen by 18:45 to serve dinner at 20:00.

Human Buckaroo, Tom is under all of that!

As can be expected from potential seasonnaires there was quite a bit of drinking involved. Vino seemed to be the tipple of choice amongst the other guys and I'd dread the pint of red, white, vodka monster and beer that would come round to me during a certain drinking game :0

One night a top notch bloke called Tom managed to neck his bottle of cheap plonk quicker than I can down a strawpedo. Much antics followed including quite a large amount of smelly sick, until he finally passed out on the sofa. Then a huge game of human Buckaroo unfolded including lit table lamps.

Mine and Kerry's graded meal

The week culminated in Kerry and I teaming up to cook a proper 3 course meal of our choosing. We learnt that when planning an evening dinner there is more to consider than just what to cook. We had to take in to account colours of each course and their similarity to the other courses, colours used within each course and whether they fit with other ingredients. The starters shouldn't be too close to the main ie Salmon triangles to start followed by poached salmon for main course.

We decided upon: Seasoned Tomato and Mozzarella on a garlic crouton with Basil for starter. Main was Lamb chops with a homemade rosemary and red current sauce, Gratin Dauphinoise potato with Sauteed French beans and glazed carrot batons. All of this was followed by Gooey chocolate brownie with ice cream and a sticky chocolate fudge sauce.

It was a pleasure to cook with Kerry. I'd been paired up with some really nice other wannabe chalet hosts but it was good to know that Kerry and I can work efficiently together without getting all Gordon Ramsey at each other! The final graded meal went without a hitch. We were both really pleased with the final result. Timings all went well, nothing was burnt/under cooked and the presentation was spot on.

The whole meal was then tasted and graded by the instructors whilst we cleared the kitchen. We achieved an A grade for all three courses! A massive boost and proof that we can cook to a high standard. When we finally got to try it it was stone cold so wasn't too appealing but if judged by smell and looks alone I'd have given it an A too!

The people really did make the course though. Everyone was 18 and fresh out of 6th form. I felt like a Grandad at a christening. But everyone was so nice. There were no spats or agro, everyone got along and if we weren't cooking or eating we were chugging the beers or lolling in front of a film. I really hope to meet some of the guys and girls again out on a ski resort and it really would be a pleasure if I was fortunate enough to get to work with any of them.

Thanks for such an awesome week everyone!

Skiworld and Alpine Elements are two ski tour operators who run chalets and hotels in Europe. Kerry and I were both able to have 1:1 interviews with the recruiting managers from both companies and felt they went well. Fingers crossed we are offered a job with either. Hopefully our cooking this week impressed them.

Sabbatical woes...

Yesterday was the day I asked for a sabbatical.

A sabbatical is a rest from work for a certain period of time. Commonly between 2 months and a year.

Ideally I would like the flexibility of having a years sabbatical so I can pursue my vagabonding adventure safe in the knowledge that if I become injured, run out of money or simply don't enjoy the world of travel, I can come back to a familiar, well paid job that I enjoy.

I've had quite a disjointed management structure over the past year at work. And for the past 6 months haven't had a permanent, or even acting, line manager to approach with concerns, ideas or questions.

Sometimes this has been a blessing! Imagine the freedom I have. To do the jobs I want to do, and more importantly how I want to do them, without the restriction or direction that can come from management. It's also worked against me though. Not having that support and direction at times, has really made some tasks more difficult. Administrative things (such as a balls up in my pay!) that should have been nipped in the bud quickly have dragged on for months (costing me money).

If I am to hand in my resignation I must then work a one month notice period. So with my intended departure date being 31st October I must hand in my resignation no later than the end of September. And I figured that I would ask for a sabbatical a couple of months before that. This gives the company time to contemplate my proposals and then action them if need be. Sourcing temporary labour and obtaining passes etcetera.

That time is around now. And with no one directly above me I feel I can ask I was to head straight to the top.

I had previously approached the Human Resources department to see if there was a company sabbatical policy. I met a blank wall and answers back were sometimes contradictory. The jist of their response was that it would be an informal agreement between the employee and their line manager .......... Phat chance.

So yesterday I met with the Head of Engineering. A very nice chap who was able to take the time out of his busy schedule to meet me. I knew that going to this level would get a definite and succinct answer with no fluff attached.

He expressed his concern with the length of time. A year seemed too long and he was worried that I may change as a person, for the worse of the company... Well I do intend on changing if vagabonding brings about that, but not through force. And I'm not sure I would change for the worse.

Whilst recognising the value of travel to a persons development personally and professionally he was not sure how I used my time off would benefit the company. I elaborated on some volunteering work that I intend on doing at a friends charity the Raising Hope Foundation who support and help orphans in Ghana, and he seemed keen. But, not one to lie, I explained primarily I would be travelling for personal pleasure and intended on working a ski season.

This he wasn't too keen on. He has had experiences of employees taking long periods of time off from snowboarding injuries and could not see the benefit it may bring to the company. (Which fair enough except for some entertaining fall videos and a few 'Apres Ski' hangovers neither could I). The conclusion of the chat was that should I approach him with a constructive, possibly charity led, 3 month long plan he may well be inclined to make it happen. However a year long pleasure trip would probably not wash.

So I guess I have two options. Take 3 months out ... or resign.

Ski Season tailored CV writing...

Who enjoys writing a CV?

Not me, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. I've read way too many 'CV writing tips and tricks' websites and trawled through umpteen 'CV samples/templates' documents for my liking.

And yet I still find it hard! I had made a concerted effort to sit down and start (hopefully finish!) the CV which I intend on sending off to Ski Season employers. And as of last week, 4 hours work had left me with personal details strewn over a .doc file.

The trouble with writing a CV for such a narrow market as the ski season market, is that it can't be your generic 'Here-I-am-and-this-is-what-I've-done' type CV. When we went to Natives recruitment fair last October the one thing I took from the day was a) that I really wanted to work a ski season and b) that our CVs needed to be properly tailored to have ANY chance of being called back for an interview.

If I remember correctly 50,000 people apply for a couple of thousand European ski jobs. That's slim pickings for getting in! Which is why I feel there's so much pressure to write this CV to its best but also to tailor it to, not only the ski industry, but to specific employers themselves.

We finished our CVs today and have applied for 3 jobs each. It's difficult to appeal to many jobs. There is a whole industry right from chalet area managers and hotel managers (which we aren't really interested in) down to kitchen porters and chamber maids.

I personally have more of a luxury than Kerry in that I can apply to more job categories. Being an electrical engineer and having experience in building maintenance means I am well suited to a maintenance job within a chalet. That coupled with a clean (Or soon to be!) driving license and a C1 (Large Goods Vehicles) test looming within the next couple of months gives me good grounding for Driver/maintenance jobs.

I've mentioned before that we have a 5 day Chalet Cookery Course booked with Natives in August. This, we hope, will stand us in good stead for applying for chalet hosts and even chalet cooks. We've recently been cooking some meals from the brilliant 'Chalet Cookery Book' again by Natives. (I've just noticed they're giving away free downloadable copies! 06/06/2012)

I find it pretty hard writing appealing yet brief covering letter, tailored for each companies specific values and tastes. I'm conscious that recruiters may glance at a covering letter and CV over a cup of coffee and want to make them as concise as possible without dragging on and on.

I really hope we have have got it right. I'm sure our evenings will be absorbed with more applications and hopefully follow up phone calls with the potential for an interview.

So we are back on the hard work trail, but it will feel so awesome if/when we achieve gainful employment!

My First Venture in to Bicycle Touring/Camping

Bicycles have always been a great interest. They can give anyone freedom of travel at a more respectable pace than walking, and with some simple knowledge, can be kept on the road for very little money.

Aesthetically I think the bicycle, in all its many varieties, is a work of art.

My only regret is that I don't ride my bike enough! So in a conscious effort to reverse the tide of lets-jump-in-the-car mentality I've got so used to, I decided to head off out for a couple of days cycling and would have to carry everything I needed.

Blue line outward journey, Red line back

 I wanted a route that was somewhat familiar but with a sense of entering the unknown. So I decided to head out of Horsham towards Crawley but to keep going East towards Turners Hill and East Grinstead. I've never explored this part of the world except for fleeting visits when I was much younger.

I announced my plans, quite triumphantly, on a Wednesday. I wasn't to leave for a few days but felt I needed to tell someone! (And also to gain their opinions!) I always find it funny when I propose a 'ridiculous' idea to people and enjoy their 'can't do' attitudes. It makes it all the more important to do it!

With surprise Kerry's dad showed great interest. "When are you going? Who you going with? How long for?" all flew from his mouth, half-Geordie-half-Mackem accents clashing to make, sometimes, no sense to a Southern Fairy like me. The questions made sense though, not only aurally but semantically too. He was weighing up whether he was able to come! Mike isn't one to turn down a good adventure!

I knew then that I had a companion! And one I was grateful for. I should think the hardest part of a lone cycle camp would be just that, being alone. So I welcomed Mike's company and we frantically readied the bikes for departure the following Saturday.

Disaster struck in the early hours of Saturday morning. I woke to a massive pain in my face. Its difficult to describe but that's the best I can do. A pain IN my FACE. I couldn't get rid of it, I couldn't allieveiate it at all. Just a dull, numbing pain behind my cheek bone but enough to keep me awake for hours on end. I text Mike to tell him I couldn't cycle. I had slept all of 4 hours during the night. I was gutted. I drifted off to sleep at about 7am, disappointed.

But I was determined to get out cycling. I knew Mike would be feeling as gutted as I was and didn't want to let him down. I was up again at 10am and rang Mike to ask if he could still make it. He could! and we arranged to meet at half past 10. Thirty minutes to get ready. Easy, the bike was already packed, all I needed was to get dressed!

Mike out on the road

All set I hurriedly cycled to meet Mike, we arrived at the rendezvous at the same time, handy! We already knew our biggest issue. Rusper hill. Whilst not in any way big, the hill is quite steep at one section. The bikes felt good. It was the first time I had ridden with it fully laden and I couldn't tell there was any weight on the back. Until I hit the hill that is! I had to get off straight away. I struggle without any panniers but with this weight any incline felt like a tug of war match with a stern bull.

Once we had made it up everything seemed plain sailing. The first 5 miles were all very familiar territory. I ride this route to work sometimes so know exactly where I will need to push harder or where I can afford to relax a bit. It was a pleasant ride, the sun shone gloriously through the trees and we were soon in Ifield where we had decided to stop and grab some lunch from a shop.

Two 'meal-in-a-can's' and a few bread rolls strapped to the back and we were off again. We would traverse Crawley and stop just outside town in some woods to cook up the cans and generally chill. We found a nice green just off the road and I could try out my new stove.

The 'White Box Stove' is a nice little aluminium meths burning stove that ... comes in a white box! It is awesome. It's amazing how such a little amount of meths in such a tiny stove can produce good, sustained heat for 10 minutes, easily heating our food which we ate dipping bread rolls.

Stomachs full and the pace slowed. I was certainly feeling pretty tired at this point so the sight of a pub a few miles down the road was welcomed! Pint in hand and sun on face I thought about how I could easily get used to this! Then when I stood up my legs reminded me its not all rosy! The last miles were difficult. We hit Turners Hill which is not to be estimated. The 16 cans of lager we bought then hampered our ascents even more. We needed to find somewhere to camp.

I'd set my heart on camping next to Weirwood Reservoir, a view across the water and a decent camp fire. A few dead ends later and we found that it was impossible to get to the water edge. Tired and weary we settled for a nice bluebell wood. A small copse of mainly birch trees just next to the road. Just what we needed after cycling 24 miles.

The tent was set up with ease and we settles down to building the camp fire. It turns out Mike has some sort of compulsion to find any piece of wood and put it in the fire. So I was left to sit back and enjoy the countryside.

The cycle had really tired me out. It was very hard, alot harder than I had thought it would be, but sitting back against a tree watching the fire made it all better. And it was keeping the midges away! I cooked up a nice 'Curry-in-a-can' meal with one piece of chicken in no bigger than my little finger nail. I'd regard that meal as more a curry flavoured soup!

The beers went down very easily, and soon the light was fading (as was I) to the point where we had to retire to our sleeping bags. It was fairly cold through the night and we both had to get up for the toilet, cursing at how cold it was outside!
I woke up at about 06:00 and successfully managed to get the fire re-lit from the embers. The orange flames were perfect for warming my socks. Mike slept slightly longer, however I think this was to make up for what sleep he hadn't got through the night.

We were both knackered, even putting the tent away was a struggle and packing everything back on to the bikes took real time and energy. We were in no rush to get back on the saddle. I had a suspicion that the first few miles would all be up hill which made it even worse. I kept these dark thoughts to myself!

Lo and behold! we hit hills as soon as we left the reservoir. Big ones that seemed to go on and on. Cycling up them with a very tired and aching bottom wasn't fun. Each corner just gave way to another long incline. We'd only eaten a bread roll each. toasted on the fire that morning, and it was very hard to muster any energy. This is why I've never been so pleased to see a Costcutter shop in my life. I grabbed meat pasties and bottles of water which we wolfed down quickly and we soon felt a bit better and ready for the journey home.

After walking the bikes up Turners Hill for the second time in two days we decided to take a more direct route home. And we were so pleased we did! We seemed to roll on and on through the countryside, not a hill in sight except for the gradual descent we were on. Mike shouted in delight "Now THIS is more like it!"
The journey seemed to take less time and we stopped just short of Horsham to have a quick pint in The Dragon at Colgate. It wasn't even midday yet and we were only a few miles from home!

I could tell the mix of cycling and a restless night had taken its toll on Mike. I too was tired but had atleast done some cycling the weeks before hand. That and I'm half Mikes age!

Whilst supping our beers and admiring a large group of old MG cars growl past I spotted this little hitchhiker! He must be from Weirwood reservoir and had made it all the way to Colgate with me! A quick 10 minute blast and we were in Horsham. I bid Mike farewell and headed to the local shop to load my panniers up with wine. I needed it after all that cycling! 20 miles back, a shorter distance home which was appreciated.

A Tale from a Novice Hitchhiker

The story of my first hitchhiking experience;

Early one Saturday morning during the tale end of an Indian summer I decided to set off. I had 4 days off work and with it came a great sense of freedom. The only thing I had to commit to was the need to be back home and ready for work in 96 hours time. And it felt gooood!

I never have trouble getting up early. In fact to any of my mates who've had the pleasure of waking up with me after a night out, its somewhat of an inconvenience! But I'd managed to sleep until 9am this morning. An achievement in lieing in! I made a plan from my pillow. Pack up, walk out of my apartment and aim for Canterbury. I had a good friend who lived there who I hadn't seen in a while.

My pack consisted of very little. One change of clothes, a travel towel, sleeping bag and a brand new bivvi bag in case I had to sleep rough anywhere. A few chocolate bars and a litre of water were thrown in for good measure and I was off.

My first 'pick-up' wasn't your typical hitchhiking procedure. I didn't even have the chance to hold out my sign! I'd walked the 2 miles to the edge of town and had drank nearly half of my water! I blame the late summers heat but I think if I'm honest it was a reflection on how unfit I was. I sat down and lent against a garden fence, triumphantly withdrawing my sharpie marker like a brave warrior preparing for battle. I'd only managed to outline 'Peas' in my best bubble graffiti (intending on completing 'Pease Pottage' but realising it wouldn't all fit on the page!) when the lady who owned the garden fence popped her head round the corner;

"Need a lift?" She asked, obviously catching sight of the letters I'd scribbled on the page.

"Please!" I replied eagerly. Surprised and kind of disappointed I didn't have to finish my masterpiece.

It was all very pleasant. I helped load her kids' bag in to the boot of the car and broke one of the rules of hitchhiking, 'Always travel alongside your bag', by chucking mine in with it. I clambered in to the passenger seat and waited patiently while the lady strapped her kid in to the car seat.

We agreed that she'd drop me off at the services a mere 4 miles away, but I was happy! The services was the 'hitchhiking hub' in my eyes and a sure thing for the next pickup. We exchanged chit-chat until we pulled in to the car park, I grabbed my bag out of the boot, and she wished me good luck. How easy was that? My first experience of hitchhiking had gone without a hitch (excuse the pun).

The rest of the journey seemed to flow with the same amount of ease as my first pickup. I'd write the road I wanted to travel on and the direction (M23 N or M25 E) on a piece of paper, hold it out for all to see whilst worrying someone I knew would come along. It was quite scary holding it out at first. It was new.

I made it as far as Dettling Hill, 40 miles in an hour. I'd struggle to do that journey in that time if I was driving! I've probably got Neil to thank for that who picked me up and drove at 110 mph up the motorway while telling me about his very interesting Yurt rental company. He lived in a converted horse box but had the VW Golf we were in for business meetings etc.

Then it struck ... I think every hitchhiker must go through this process at some point in their hitching career, and I'll bet on more than one occasion. I called it The Wait. 3 hours of standing on the same road, holding your sign out, with no success. It is soul destroying. I lost all faith in humanity. Convinced myself that the world we live in was occupied by selfish, arrogant people. I don't know why I felt this way. I was asking people to sacrifice their time and petrol to give me a lift. For nothing in return! At the time it felt like there was no good in the world.

This thought was bolstered when a van pulled over about 50 metres up the road. I grabbed my bag and ran hurriedly along the road towards my new lift. The sense of relief, belief, I don't know what it was? Elation? I felt like I could cry and was preparing my thank you speech as I ran up to the back of the van. Just as I got alongside the passenger door and reached for the handle the van sped away. Cackles of laughter trailing in the wind behind it. A prank. One that hurt.

"Let's walk!" I proclaimed. Somehow it was as if I was getting one over on all of the cars that passed. I didn't need them. I still held my sign out though. Sheepishly, but it was there. I hadn't gone far when I stopped to pick some blackberries at the side of the road. I worried for a second how much exhaust fumes had coated the berries but they tasted too good not to eat. I felt like Ray Mears! Still disheartened though.

A big artic truck pulled in to the lay by roughly 200 meters up the road and I thought nothing of it. I didn't have my hand or sign out and was quite enjoying choosing the biggest, juiciest berries to eat. A shout came from up the road, towards the truck. The driver had got out and was waving and hollering. I walked normally up to the cab, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of watching me run, only to speed off like the van driver.

"Tibor! You need lift?" said the driver holding his hand out. He had a thick eastern european accent. Lithuanian if I was to go by the 'LT' on the numberplate.

Tibor's truck cab smelt horrible! I don't know where the guy went to the toilet but I bet he didn't stop to pull over! There were dirty clothes hung all over the place as if they were drying after a wash. The smell ruled that out! But I was thankful. Tibor was making his way to Dover to head home. He'd been in the truck for 9 days and it would take another 5 before he was back. We tried making conversation but the language barrier was too tough. I knew no lithuanian and Tibors English was patchy to say the least. I simply told him what number junction to drop me at and we drove.

I caught 2 more lifts and was dropped off at my friends doorstep! The 70 mile trip took only 5 hours. My belief in human kind had been restored and I'd arrived to brilliant sunshine and the cobbled streets of Canterbury. I knew it worked. Hitchhiking had been an adventure, different. But I now knew it was possible for someone to thumb a lift in this day and age. I arrived in Canterbury with several sheets of road names places and directions as well as wanting more.

The next day my friend gave me a lift out to a suitable service station. I cradled a hangover as I wrote out my first sign, immediately hitting The Wait and sat for 2 hours. I'd set my sights on going to Brands Hatch race track to meet 4 of my friends for the second day of superbike racing. With no lift and a banging headache I'd settle for a lift home! The 30 miles to Brands took all day. Long waits and spots of rain made the hangover worse. I walked for 10 miles texting my friends updates on how long I thought I'd be until an old man with his car filled with furniture picked me up. We drove with my seat too far forward and I had to hold a chair steady but the discomfort was all made up for driving 15 miles up a hill.

My friends had miraculously managed to hold back a ticket stub from the Marshall's on their way in so I didn't have to pay. I used the entrance money I'd saved to buy a round of drinks that night and I slept under the stars in my bivvi bag much to the neighbours surprise. (It looks as if your sleeping on the grass with just a sleeping bag. In fact its like a mini tent and very warm!)


The racing at brands the next day was top class. I chilled, drank beer, took pictures and was generally pleased with life. I'd travelled over 100 miles on others peoples good will. I was amazed at how it could be so easy one minute and so hard the next. Next time I know I'll have to get in to the hitchhiking mindset before setting out. Because there will be a next time. It was awesome!

Money milestones...

We've hit a major financial milestone. £10,000 sits in our high interest savings account after 7 months of saving. Quite an achievement for a compulsive gadget buyer and a clothes fiend.

I've always found it hard to save money. Ever since I was a child I can remember dropping coins in to a savings tin only to break it open the next day so I could buy some pokemon cards instead of the really cool bike I wanted. Saving always seemed somehow impossible to me.

Even as I got older I couldn't save. The trouble with being older is that people are willing to help you not save. 2 weeks in to starting my 4 year engineering apprenticeship and I was £3,500 in debt. BUT I did have a shiny new 50" TV and a super fast laptop. Both were slapped on 4 year Hire Purchase terms of god-knows how many % APR.

As impressive it is for 2 people to save ten thousand pounds, it somehow seems even more impressive for Kerry and I. And I have no doubt as to the reason. Desire.

There is a real wanting for vagabonding. It isn't a hair brained scheme, merely a dream that stays in a dream world. Vagabonding is now very tangible. We talk about it every day and there is always something to organise, sort out or worry about.

Its possible that I didn't want that bike enough, or didn't deserve that TV enough. In both these instances I circumnavigated saving, resulting in me either not getting it, or paying through the nose for 4 years for it!

However I feel we really do want and deserve to go travelling. We've made saving work for us. And its been quite easy!

Yes we've sacrificed things, yes we've said no to things, and yes we've both worked very hard to earn more money. But on the flip side we've also rewarded ourselves. Our lives haven't had the depressing, boring, insular image I always had of frugality as a child.

Things are only looking up from now on as well! Kerry has just taken a new shift pattern at work. One that compensates limited notice period and extremely unsociable hours for an extra £900 a month! That coupled with a £1200 a month saving when our flat starts paying for itself next month will mean we can bolster our saving efforts quite considerably.

Our goal is to have £25,000 when the ski season starts and our adventure begins in November. Anything more is a bonus, but we always keep that target in our heads. Especially when looking at new gadgets and clothes!

Handing over the keys...

Whilst not completely smooth, my experience of letting a property was not the stressful affair I had been led to believe.

When looked at it, the whole process was nothing more than a number of tasks that needed chronological organisation.

And my answer was lists! Reams of them. One for changes of address, one for documents the letting agent required, one for jobs to tackle in the flat. ...

It was quite comical as I ticked off each job. Each tick one step closer to completion and counting down to today. The first day of my first 6 month let.

All I know about my tenant is that his name is Kevin and he is a sports masseur. I think the letting agents try to distance landlord from tenant to try and avoid them bypassing their services and organising a private let agreement. To be fair that suits me fine. I'm looking for purely a business relationship which I have found with Pinnacle Lettings.

As I type I can envisage him getting his fresh set of keys, planning where to put his furniture and when to get his mates round for the house warming!

Fingers crossed that's one of the biggest tasks done. Moving back with mum and dad has been interesting. There are a few things to iron out. Namely whose food is whose and whose do we eat! But overall its quite nice seeing the family a bit more. Even if we've all had some illness over the last month.