(previous chapter)
I have to admit my memory gets hazy right here because the journey happened so fast, but at some point I was picked up by a woman named Sam, who gave me a ride back to Union, South Carolina. The ride offer was to Spartanburg, but I wanted to see if I could see Dale again on my way home. Sam, familiar with hitchhikers, Rainbow, and a Ren Fair participant herself, was more than happy to help.
She dropped me off at the McDonald's in Union, but gave me her number in case I couldn't find Dale. I had forgotten how big of a place Union was, and it took quite awhile to get to the end of town that had the road to go out to Dale's, so the sun was already going down at that point and I was feeling rushed to find where Dale lived, or set up camp. I couldn't remember exactly which roads to go down, and the number I had for him in my phone wasn't going through. It didn't matter - as I found out latter the next day, I'd saved the wrong number anyway. I ended up just setting up camp in the woods not far from where Dale and I met.
The next morning, I tried again to find a way to reach Dale, but was unable. In the end, I hiked back to the McDonald's and called Sam, who came and got me and took me to Spartanburg. She took me out to eat a late breakfast before dropping me back off on the interstate.
It didn't take long from there to catch a ride out of Spartanburg, but then things get hazy again. At some point, I caught a ride with two guys who worked on cell phone towers. They dropped me off at a truck stop in Charlotte, North Carolina and told me they had a friend who would be passing through the next day who was going all the way to Ohio. I tried to contact them about their friend while eating at Subway at the truck stop, but their friend didn't seem completely reliable, so I resolved that I would set up camp that night, then hitch out as usual the next morning.
There were already a group of home bums spanging one of the intersections near the truck stop. It seemed like they were having trouble, so I offered the rest of my sub and asked directions to get me set straight, as the intersections between interstates was a little confusing.
I walked down to right by where I'd be hitching out on I-77 and, with the sun setting, hid myself in the cover of trees beside the interstate. There wasn't much depth, and I didn't feel like I would really be hiding with my tent up, so I hopped a fence to get in deeper, setting up camp sandwiched between the interstate and some industrial building.
Once again, my ride out came early in the morning. Mostly jumps of only 2-3 exits up, I caught a few rides that day, then the next, ending with some guy who picked me up because he had just had a sermon in church about how "Wisdom lies not from the East, the South, or the West, but from the North" and my sign said "North". He took me to some truck stop in middle-of-no-where, North Carolina.
It was getting late at that point, so I figured I wasn't going to get anymore rides that day. There was a good field with some cover that I was planning to lay a tarp down in for the night, but I figured I fly a sign until it got too dark; I was starting to see a lot of Ohio license plates and had a really good feeling.
At first, I would make O-H-I-O with my arms whenever I saw an Ohio license plate, but the people either ignored me or shook their heads. I eventually put "Ohio" on the back of my sign and began alternating which side I was flying. A trucker finally stopped when I was just about ready to call it quits for the day, when I was flying the "North" side.
"How far north are you going? I'm going to Ohio."
"I'm going to Ohio," I indicated the other side of my sign.
I rode through with him all the way to Jacksonville, Ohio. It was already night at that point, but I felt like I was home. I walked up a hill beside HW-50/32, laid out my tarp, and went to sleep.
The next morning, I was on my feet again. I wanted to make it home as soon as possible. Before long though, I looked up and suddenly noticed bad storm clouds and that the weather was about to change quick. Being so close to home, I called my grandma to see if she could come get me. Luckily, she was picking up my cousin in Wellston that day. I didn't have time to make it back to Jackson to wait around, so took refugee under the overhang of a church beside the highway until I got picked up.
From there, we went to get my cousin, then went back home. I got dropped off at the library, then contacted one of my friends and went over to his house for the night, which we spent on acid. The drugs amplified the sensation of being out of sync with normal life - even my normal life - after being on the road, and it became apparent I'd need an adjustment period to re-normalize.
(next chapter)
Showing posts with label south carolina. Show all posts
Showing posts with label south carolina. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Sunday, September 6, 2015
What A Ride: To Ocala Part 1
(previous chapter)
One of my uncles was on his way to visit some of his family in South Carolina when I was getting ready to leave, so I caught a good ride out of Ohio. We left early in the morning and arrived just outside of Spartanburg that night. I stayed with his family since it was late, but it wasn't long before I was on my own the next morning.
I got dropped off on HW 176, choosing to avoid the interstate at first since I wouldn't be able to just walk the interstate if I didn't get a ride, as Charleston was still in the back of my mind. Then, I set off south to the tune of "Wagon Wheel" on loop in my head.
My first ride came from a friendly, older fellow that took me as far as Union, SC, then gave me a nice camouflage jacket to help keep me warm. I continued walking from there as the sun got lower and the temperature got colder.
On the outskirts of Union, outside of the actual city itself, I encountered a man named Dale, and his girlfriend. Dale had called me over to his side of the road when he noticed the large backpack on my back. In a period of "roughing it" himself, Dale was curious why I was carrying such a load around. We began to chat and ponder over the workings of the universe, synchronicity, and things happening for a reason, while I enjoyed a meal he had given me. I asked if he knew a place I could set up camp for the night, as the light was fading rapidly, still in early January. In response, he and his girlfriend called the pastor of Philippi Baptist Church of Union, who was away on church business at the time. Even though he was wasn't in town, the pastor still set me up with a room at the Magunison Motel for the night, where I was able to shower and rest in a comfortable bed.
The next day, Dale was going to run me to Whitmire, the next town over. Instead, we just ended up running around together. We hung out with some of Dale's friends, including one that gave me an extra bag with wheels to pull behind me, and one that said he'd get me to Charleston, SC the next day. And Dale ended up breaking up with his girlfriend, but that's another matter. Dale also traded me a lifesaving jumpsuit for the jacket my ride the previous day had given me. I ended up crashing out on the couch at Dale's that night.
Dale's friend gave me the ride to Charleston the next day, but it wasn't until later in the day and the sun had already set by the time we got there. I wasn't comfortable in such a big city at night when I didn't know much about the place, so I had Dale's friend take me to a free campsite in Francis Marion National Forest.
The next day was a long walk back to Charleston along HW 17. It took a few hours just to leave the forest, then another couple hours of walking before I finally caught a ride with some older black gentlemen. When they dropped me off in Charleston, a group of more blacks on a job-site gave me advise on the city bus system, then tried to outdo each other in the amount of money they gave me. Since I had left with almost nothing, that had been a welcome and needed surprise.
The bus didn't seem keen to pick me up, though. I sat at the bus stop for a couple hours as buses went passed with no sign they intended to stop. Eventually, I called the line and a bus stopped shortly after. I rode to where I'd catch the next bus, then rode that bus as far as they went towards leaving town.
I ate some Burger King before going on down the road. Some man stopped me and offered me a place to shower and rest for the night in the motel room he was staying at. Maybe I didn't have anything to worry about, but the fact that his first question to me had been how would I respond if someone took all my things, which left me with a red flag big enough to turn the offer down. He kept persisting that I stay. He was also drunk. I insisted that I wanted to cover as much ground as I could before I stopped to rest and kept walking. He stared at me for longer than I was comfortable with as the distance between us grew, which solidified my decision to keep going.
I took HW 17, also known as Savannah Highway, south out of Charleston. It was dark by the time I set up camp that night. I had wandered into some neighborhood off the highway with a path into a wooded area where I could conceal myself.
I hit the highway again in the morning, making it to a gas station where the manager gave me some cardboard and free food she was about to toss out. I put "Georgia" on the cardboard and enjoyed the gift of food while standing on the other side of the road from the gas station, trying to catch a ride. It was actually a pretty attractive woman that picked me up. She was on her way to Florida and decided to turn around and come back to give me a ride after passing by the first time.
My next destination was Richmond Hill, GA. I was supposed to meet up with another traveler on his way to Ocala there, though he was a few days behind in his journey. From there, I was supposed to continue south to St. Mary's, GA to meet up with a friend from Nelsonville, Ohio that had moved away. I made it to Richmond Hill, but those other two things never happened.
The woman let me out at the McDonald's in Richmond Hill. No sooner had I left the ride that a man, Gypsy, comes out of the restaurant and asked if I was traveling, and if I was hungry. He told me to come inside, then bought me four McChickens.
As it turned out, there were quite a few dirty kids in town at the moment. There was Gypsy, his wife Virgo, and another four kids - I can't remember everyone's names, but for the sake of anyone who may recognize his traveling name, Strings was one of the four. I include that information because I've since met many other people who've claimed to have known Strings since he was a young, naming him as an inspiration they began traveling. Unfortunately, Strings and some other kid got a ride out shortly after I got there, so I didn't really get to know him. The rest of us hung out in the McDonald's until it got late enough to go set up camp in the woods behind the restaurant.
The woods we camped in was obviously a bum camp already, with a tarp strung up for shelter and other trash around the site. After creating some bridges across a couple creeks, we could also reach some railroad tracks at a location where trains would often stop so one train could pass another. We spent the night at the bum camp, then went back to the McDonald's the next morning. We hung out there for awhile, but by around 4:00 in the afternoon we were back in the camp, waiting on a train.
We had to be quick finding a place when the southbound stopped. I was the last one on, and the train began moving again as I began stepping up on it, temporarily knocking me off balance. It was my first time hopping, so I shared a car with Virgo and Gypsy. The other two kids took the car in front of us. I decided to leave my extra bag, which had really been more of a hindrance anyway.
Being on the outside of a moving train left me pretty nervous at first, but the nerves quickly subsided once I settled into place. The view was incredible! Unfortunately, it wasn't the train we were looking for.
When we hopped, we were expecting to be in Jacksonville around 6:00 that day, having hopped around 4:00. The course the train took seemed strange to the more experienced rail-riders I was with once we started noticing the towns we were passing through. We assumed the train was headed for the station in Waycross, GA, where we might have needed to be ready to get off in a hurry, or perhaps to Tallahassee. Then, we passed right through the Waycross station without showing any signs of slowing down or stopping, confusing our party as to where we were going more, as we were now headed north-west.
While the view and experience made everything worth it, what was to be a couple hour ride into Florida became an all-night ride to just outside of Birmingham, AL. We spent the whole time joking about the ride, saying that one of us should go ask the conductor where we were going, demand the train go to Florida, or that he knew we were there and had gone off-course just to mess with us. We had, after all, passed plenty of railroad workers that either didn't see us, or looked the other way. We waved at plenty of pedestrians as we passed, including some people that slowed their car down to videotape us with their phone. I imagine the footage is on YouTube somewhere. The night was pretty cold on the outside of a moving train, even with my jumpsuit and sleeping bag. It could have easily been a longer ride to who knows where, but when the train finally finally stopped somewhere it seemed reasonable to get off in the morning, we decided the ride had already been ridiculous enough.
(next chapter)
One of my uncles was on his way to visit some of his family in South Carolina when I was getting ready to leave, so I caught a good ride out of Ohio. We left early in the morning and arrived just outside of Spartanburg that night. I stayed with his family since it was late, but it wasn't long before I was on my own the next morning.
I got dropped off on HW 176, choosing to avoid the interstate at first since I wouldn't be able to just walk the interstate if I didn't get a ride, as Charleston was still in the back of my mind. Then, I set off south to the tune of "Wagon Wheel" on loop in my head.
My first ride came from a friendly, older fellow that took me as far as Union, SC, then gave me a nice camouflage jacket to help keep me warm. I continued walking from there as the sun got lower and the temperature got colder.
On the outskirts of Union, outside of the actual city itself, I encountered a man named Dale, and his girlfriend. Dale had called me over to his side of the road when he noticed the large backpack on my back. In a period of "roughing it" himself, Dale was curious why I was carrying such a load around. We began to chat and ponder over the workings of the universe, synchronicity, and things happening for a reason, while I enjoyed a meal he had given me. I asked if he knew a place I could set up camp for the night, as the light was fading rapidly, still in early January. In response, he and his girlfriend called the pastor of Philippi Baptist Church of Union, who was away on church business at the time. Even though he was wasn't in town, the pastor still set me up with a room at the Magunison Motel for the night, where I was able to shower and rest in a comfortable bed.
The next day, Dale was going to run me to Whitmire, the next town over. Instead, we just ended up running around together. We hung out with some of Dale's friends, including one that gave me an extra bag with wheels to pull behind me, and one that said he'd get me to Charleston, SC the next day. And Dale ended up breaking up with his girlfriend, but that's another matter. Dale also traded me a lifesaving jumpsuit for the jacket my ride the previous day had given me. I ended up crashing out on the couch at Dale's that night.
Dale's friend gave me the ride to Charleston the next day, but it wasn't until later in the day and the sun had already set by the time we got there. I wasn't comfortable in such a big city at night when I didn't know much about the place, so I had Dale's friend take me to a free campsite in Francis Marion National Forest.
The next day was a long walk back to Charleston along HW 17. It took a few hours just to leave the forest, then another couple hours of walking before I finally caught a ride with some older black gentlemen. When they dropped me off in Charleston, a group of more blacks on a job-site gave me advise on the city bus system, then tried to outdo each other in the amount of money they gave me. Since I had left with almost nothing, that had been a welcome and needed surprise.
The bus didn't seem keen to pick me up, though. I sat at the bus stop for a couple hours as buses went passed with no sign they intended to stop. Eventually, I called the line and a bus stopped shortly after. I rode to where I'd catch the next bus, then rode that bus as far as they went towards leaving town.
I ate some Burger King before going on down the road. Some man stopped me and offered me a place to shower and rest for the night in the motel room he was staying at. Maybe I didn't have anything to worry about, but the fact that his first question to me had been how would I respond if someone took all my things, which left me with a red flag big enough to turn the offer down. He kept persisting that I stay. He was also drunk. I insisted that I wanted to cover as much ground as I could before I stopped to rest and kept walking. He stared at me for longer than I was comfortable with as the distance between us grew, which solidified my decision to keep going.
I took HW 17, also known as Savannah Highway, south out of Charleston. It was dark by the time I set up camp that night. I had wandered into some neighborhood off the highway with a path into a wooded area where I could conceal myself.
I hit the highway again in the morning, making it to a gas station where the manager gave me some cardboard and free food she was about to toss out. I put "Georgia" on the cardboard and enjoyed the gift of food while standing on the other side of the road from the gas station, trying to catch a ride. It was actually a pretty attractive woman that picked me up. She was on her way to Florida and decided to turn around and come back to give me a ride after passing by the first time.
My next destination was Richmond Hill, GA. I was supposed to meet up with another traveler on his way to Ocala there, though he was a few days behind in his journey. From there, I was supposed to continue south to St. Mary's, GA to meet up with a friend from Nelsonville, Ohio that had moved away. I made it to Richmond Hill, but those other two things never happened.
The woman let me out at the McDonald's in Richmond Hill. No sooner had I left the ride that a man, Gypsy, comes out of the restaurant and asked if I was traveling, and if I was hungry. He told me to come inside, then bought me four McChickens.
As it turned out, there were quite a few dirty kids in town at the moment. There was Gypsy, his wife Virgo, and another four kids - I can't remember everyone's names, but for the sake of anyone who may recognize his traveling name, Strings was one of the four. I include that information because I've since met many other people who've claimed to have known Strings since he was a young, naming him as an inspiration they began traveling. Unfortunately, Strings and some other kid got a ride out shortly after I got there, so I didn't really get to know him. The rest of us hung out in the McDonald's until it got late enough to go set up camp in the woods behind the restaurant.
The woods we camped in was obviously a bum camp already, with a tarp strung up for shelter and other trash around the site. After creating some bridges across a couple creeks, we could also reach some railroad tracks at a location where trains would often stop so one train could pass another. We spent the night at the bum camp, then went back to the McDonald's the next morning. We hung out there for awhile, but by around 4:00 in the afternoon we were back in the camp, waiting on a train.
We had to be quick finding a place when the southbound stopped. I was the last one on, and the train began moving again as I began stepping up on it, temporarily knocking me off balance. It was my first time hopping, so I shared a car with Virgo and Gypsy. The other two kids took the car in front of us. I decided to leave my extra bag, which had really been more of a hindrance anyway.
Being on the outside of a moving train left me pretty nervous at first, but the nerves quickly subsided once I settled into place. The view was incredible! Unfortunately, it wasn't the train we were looking for.
When we hopped, we were expecting to be in Jacksonville around 6:00 that day, having hopped around 4:00. The course the train took seemed strange to the more experienced rail-riders I was with once we started noticing the towns we were passing through. We assumed the train was headed for the station in Waycross, GA, where we might have needed to be ready to get off in a hurry, or perhaps to Tallahassee. Then, we passed right through the Waycross station without showing any signs of slowing down or stopping, confusing our party as to where we were going more, as we were now headed north-west.
While the view and experience made everything worth it, what was to be a couple hour ride into Florida became an all-night ride to just outside of Birmingham, AL. We spent the whole time joking about the ride, saying that one of us should go ask the conductor where we were going, demand the train go to Florida, or that he knew we were there and had gone off-course just to mess with us. We had, after all, passed plenty of railroad workers that either didn't see us, or looked the other way. We waved at plenty of pedestrians as we passed, including some people that slowed their car down to videotape us with their phone. I imagine the footage is on YouTube somewhere. The night was pretty cold on the outside of a moving train, even with my jumpsuit and sleeping bag. It could have easily been a longer ride to who knows where, but when the train finally finally stopped somewhere it seemed reasonable to get off in the morning, we decided the ride had already been ridiculous enough.
(next chapter)
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