A few years ago I'd spent a couple of weeks hiking up in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina generally following the long distance Appalachian Trail. Up in the hills it was a case of bears mooching around camp every night and a very scary encounter with a psychopath, who I later found out was on the run from the law.
Anyways I'd had enough of living off the land and made my way down to civilisation in the company of a father and daughter from Texas. Having said our goodbyes I thought I'd be able to hitch to a town (about 60 miles) from interstate 40. Problem was, interstate 40 was about as hitch friendly as a UK motorway so I started hiking on a dirt trail that ran alongside.
After about an hour of walking a cab truck with a couple of kayaks on the roof pulled alongside and the passenger shouted something like 'wanna lift buddy?' and I climbed aboard. What happened next was this; the two guys had been river running in the hills and were now on their way to a family barbecue about 10 miles outside of Ashville – where I was heading too. During the drive they invited me to tag along to the party.
All through the day I was treated like a VIP guest; the granddad gave me a lesson in fly fishing, they stuffed me to the gunnels with food and drink and I was eventually given a lift to the foyer of my hotel arriving at around 11pm. And this is how they treated a guy they'd never met before and who'd been up in the mountains for two weeks without washing. It was a magical travel experience.
Would the same happen in the UK?
Random acts of travel kindness
Re:Random acts of travel kindness
I think perhaps less so than other places due to British conservatism but I guess you get good friendly souls anywhere, you just want to hope one is around when you need one!
It reminds me of a mini-bus (!) journey down a long and dusty road from Mali to the Gambia where I was up close and very personal with some chickens and LOTS of other people, including a chap who was a teacher in some distant bush village. Our journey wound up in a communter town in the Gambia, at midnight- not a great place to be as single white female with nowhere to stay. I didn't have a huge amount of options as the hostel/brothel was full, so when he offered me a place to stay I accepted, with a hint of 'oh god if my mother could see me now'....we wound through the dark backstreets for half an hour or so before entering a little courtyard off the street. The poor guy hadn't been home for six months so there was a party awaiting him, as well as the whole family. I was welcomed into the celebrations and was fed and watered like one of their own, a humbling and wonderful experience
Al, I'm intrigued to know more about the psycho on the run....!
It reminds me of a mini-bus (!) journey down a long and dusty road from Mali to the Gambia where I was up close and very personal with some chickens and LOTS of other people, including a chap who was a teacher in some distant bush village. Our journey wound up in a communter town in the Gambia, at midnight- not a great place to be as single white female with nowhere to stay. I didn't have a huge amount of options as the hostel/brothel was full, so when he offered me a place to stay I accepted, with a hint of 'oh god if my mother could see me now'....we wound through the dark backstreets for half an hour or so before entering a little courtyard off the street. The poor guy hadn't been home for six months so there was a party awaiting him, as well as the whole family. I was welcomed into the celebrations and was fed and watered like one of their own, a humbling and wonderful experience
Al, I'm intrigued to know more about the psycho on the run....!
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Alun
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Re:Random acts of travel kindness
Falloonz wrote:
I was on my 7th night out in the hills and came across a three sided hut in a shaded hollow close to a ridge-line and near the source of a stream. The lean too was about 40 miles from the nearest road head and way off the beaten track, seclusion, or so it seemed.
I was busying myself collecting dead wood for a camp fire when I heard voices coming down the overgrown trail, it turned out to be 6 guys from Knoxville on their annual trip to the Smoky. They were surprised that I had found the camp ground, as they explained, over the past 10 years they'd been using it they had had it to themselves. The good news was these guys were up in the hills for a great time and had carried plenty of food and a case of Jack Daniels for refreshment which they were keen to share with a lone Welshman – Jack Daniels was of Welsh origin.
The fire was roaring, the JD had hit the spot and the conversation had reached that happy merry go round place were only a ½ bottle of Bourbon can take you. Life was good. And then, we heard the noise, it was impossible not too. It sounded like a frightened bear crashing through the undergrowth in an area where there was no trail. What emerged from the greenery was bigger than all of the black bears I'd encountered over the past week and we all sobered up in an instant.
'Dusty' was around 6ft 7in tall, could not have been less than 20st in weight, wore a battered black baseball cap back to front, a filthy sleeveless shirt which left the full, mighty power of his arms on display and denim jeans cut off just above the knee. 'Dusty' had what I call 'that whiff of sulphur about him', he looked dangerous and every nerve and instinct in my body told me he was too.
More to follow....
If you've ever seen the film 'Last of the Mohicans' then you'll have a good idea of what the Smoky Mountains look like – mile after mile after mile of dense forested mountains with steep, razor-sharp ridge-lines protruding through. If you wanted to hide out from the boys in blue then it's as good a place as any.
Al, I'm intrigued to know more about the psycho on the run....!
I was on my 7th night out in the hills and came across a three sided hut in a shaded hollow close to a ridge-line and near the source of a stream. The lean too was about 40 miles from the nearest road head and way off the beaten track, seclusion, or so it seemed.
I was busying myself collecting dead wood for a camp fire when I heard voices coming down the overgrown trail, it turned out to be 6 guys from Knoxville on their annual trip to the Smoky. They were surprised that I had found the camp ground, as they explained, over the past 10 years they'd been using it they had had it to themselves. The good news was these guys were up in the hills for a great time and had carried plenty of food and a case of Jack Daniels for refreshment which they were keen to share with a lone Welshman – Jack Daniels was of Welsh origin.
The fire was roaring, the JD had hit the spot and the conversation had reached that happy merry go round place were only a ½ bottle of Bourbon can take you. Life was good. And then, we heard the noise, it was impossible not too. It sounded like a frightened bear crashing through the undergrowth in an area where there was no trail. What emerged from the greenery was bigger than all of the black bears I'd encountered over the past week and we all sobered up in an instant.
'Dusty' was around 6ft 7in tall, could not have been less than 20st in weight, wore a battered black baseball cap back to front, a filthy sleeveless shirt which left the full, mighty power of his arms on display and denim jeans cut off just above the knee. 'Dusty' had what I call 'that whiff of sulphur about him', he looked dangerous and every nerve and instinct in my body told me he was too.
More to follow....
Re:Random acts of travel kindness
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Re:Random acts of travel kindness
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In Gambia I was invited to stay with a family 200 miles up the River Gambia, my girlfriend & I were fed & accommodated by people with very few possessions. The guy had fought for the British Army during WW2 in North Africa & was living in a mud brick hut in a compound. He was so proud to show us a new concrete cess pit he had built.
In the Andaman Islands, I had fallen asleep on a beach after snorkling over some reefs, when I awoke, some young people brought me over some fish & rice wrapped in banana leaf.
In the Transkei in South Africa, I came across a terrible accident between a lorry & car on a mountain pass. One of the occupants asked me to get emergency help. I drove down into the valley & picked up a local guy who took us to a phone booth near a desserted border crossing. It was hand generated, there were no lights & I couldn't use it. I could see a light about half a mile away so headed off to that. When I got there I nervously approached the house saying that I was a tourist & there had been an accident & help was needed. The guy used his hand generated phone to call for an ambulance.
Afterwards he & his wife invited us to stay. The next day they took time off work & took us out in a Toyota Hi-Lux pick up complete with fridge, full of food, cold beer & champagne. The whole trip was off road around some of the ancient battle sites.
For my part I have picked up hitch hikers when I can. One, an Austrian guy in the west of Ireland was given a lift back to the UK. I got him boarded as a passenger on my ticket back to the UK. He had camped on the highest mountain in Ireland, so I took him to Snowdon, I then gave him a tour around the ancient sites of Wiltshire after putting him up for a night at home & put him on the road to Oxford the next day..........We can do it too
In Gambia I was invited to stay with a family 200 miles up the River Gambia, my girlfriend & I were fed & accommodated by people with very few possessions. The guy had fought for the British Army during WW2 in North Africa & was living in a mud brick hut in a compound. He was so proud to show us a new concrete cess pit he had built.
In the Andaman Islands, I had fallen asleep on a beach after snorkling over some reefs, when I awoke, some young people brought me over some fish & rice wrapped in banana leaf.
In the Transkei in South Africa, I came across a terrible accident between a lorry & car on a mountain pass. One of the occupants asked me to get emergency help. I drove down into the valley & picked up a local guy who took us to a phone booth near a desserted border crossing. It was hand generated, there were no lights & I couldn't use it. I could see a light about half a mile away so headed off to that. When I got there I nervously approached the house saying that I was a tourist & there had been an accident & help was needed. The guy used his hand generated phone to call for an ambulance.
Afterwards he & his wife invited us to stay. The next day they took time off work & took us out in a Toyota Hi-Lux pick up complete with fridge, full of food, cold beer & champagne. The whole trip was off road around some of the ancient battle sites.
For my part I have picked up hitch hikers when I can. One, an Austrian guy in the west of Ireland was given a lift back to the UK. I got him boarded as a passenger on my ticket back to the UK. He had camped on the highest mountain in Ireland, so I took him to Snowdon, I then gave him a tour around the ancient sites of Wiltshire after putting him up for a night at home & put him on the road to Oxford the next day..........We can do it too
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Alun
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Re:Random acts of travel kindness
The story continues......
Dusty walked into the campsite as if he were walking into an empty room, his head dipped, his line of vision no more than 2ft ahead of his fake, muddied and ripped Nike trainers. He settled himself on a large rock about 5 yards away, his huge back fanning out to reveal lats that could only be a product of years of heavy duty gym work. There was no greeting, no eye contact and no recognition that there was a living person within his presence.
The atmosphere was heavy with tension and apprehension and I could detect a look of fear building in the eyes of the mountain men from Tennessee. Who was this enormous, hulking, silent man buried in his own mind and thoughts and what was he doing so high up in the cold and wet Smoky Mountains wearing just a shirt, cut off jeans and a small day pack. Whoever and whatever he was, my senses were on high alert and I'd already made mental note of the nearest baton sized log.
Dusty just sat there, his head bent forward and supported by huge hands. Every 20 or so seconds his body would shake, from head to foot, as if he were entering hypothermia. With the air so damp, the thermometer plunging and in his state of unpreparedness for a mountain environment that could well have been the case but he was not acting in a way that would suggest so.
Without warning one of the guys stood up, walked over to Dusty and asked if he were okay. There was no answer in return. He asked again. No answer. He asked if Dusty would like a hot drink. No answer. All Dusty did was take off his back pack and pull out two cans of beer. He drunk them in silence, shaking more manically by the minute. As the man from Tennessee walked back over with an unnerved look on his face I had no doubt that this stranger would reveal a sinister side as the night wore on.
More to come....
Dusty walked into the campsite as if he were walking into an empty room, his head dipped, his line of vision no more than 2ft ahead of his fake, muddied and ripped Nike trainers. He settled himself on a large rock about 5 yards away, his huge back fanning out to reveal lats that could only be a product of years of heavy duty gym work. There was no greeting, no eye contact and no recognition that there was a living person within his presence.
The atmosphere was heavy with tension and apprehension and I could detect a look of fear building in the eyes of the mountain men from Tennessee. Who was this enormous, hulking, silent man buried in his own mind and thoughts and what was he doing so high up in the cold and wet Smoky Mountains wearing just a shirt, cut off jeans and a small day pack. Whoever and whatever he was, my senses were on high alert and I'd already made mental note of the nearest baton sized log.
Dusty just sat there, his head bent forward and supported by huge hands. Every 20 or so seconds his body would shake, from head to foot, as if he were entering hypothermia. With the air so damp, the thermometer plunging and in his state of unpreparedness for a mountain environment that could well have been the case but he was not acting in a way that would suggest so.
Without warning one of the guys stood up, walked over to Dusty and asked if he were okay. There was no answer in return. He asked again. No answer. He asked if Dusty would like a hot drink. No answer. All Dusty did was take off his back pack and pull out two cans of beer. He drunk them in silence, shaking more manically by the minute. As the man from Tennessee walked back over with an unnerved look on his face I had no doubt that this stranger would reveal a sinister side as the night wore on.
More to come....
Re:Random acts of travel kindness
Sorry,bit left of centre that. Basically you tell the longest most convoluted storey you can muster , usually alcohol inspired, and it always ends'that just goes to proove red cars are faster than blue cars' which usually results in abuse and blunt force trauma from the assembled throng.
The secret of a long life is knowing when its time to go.
