Archive for the ‘travel’ Tag
This is from The Hitchhike Interviews blog:
I wasn’t even trying to hitch when Ray stopped. The last ride had brought me within a few miles of where I was staying, so I started walking. Ray pulled over and waved at me anyway. As with everyone, I asked why he stopped.
“Sunday they told this story in church about a guy who was waiting for a visit from Jesus. A woman came by his house to ask for some help, and he said I’m sorry I’m busy. Later a man came, and he told him the same thing. When he finally got to heaven, he said ‘Jesus I thought you were coming,’ and he said ‘I did I came to you as a woman, as a man… Anyway, I was thinking about that story and I thought I gotta pick that guy up.”
[Grovetown is in Georgia]
Back in September or October of 1980, I took a train and left Carlow, County Carlow in Ireland and headed north towards Dublin. I had been working on a farm near Carlow for the past two months for Jim Foley and his family. I got to Dublin and took a bus across the city center to this train station on the north side. From there I took a train to Dundalk and then caught a bus to Kingscourt, County Cavan.
I had been told by some relatives back in the States that there was a Fr. Mackin who lived in Kingscourt. He was staying at the Mackin Hotel. Fr. Mackin was the priest at my grandparents’ parish in Red Oak, Iowa. After he retired, he moved back to Ireland.
I arrived in Kingscourt and walked to the Mackin Hotel. I met Fr. Mackin and he was very happy to see me and glad to hear that I was related to Dan and Bertha Shey of Red Oak. (Grandma Shey died in Pharr, Texas in 1977; Grandpa Shey died in Houston in 1978). His nephew and wife owned the Mackin Hotel and Fr. Mackin said that it would be all right if I stayed the night.
Later that evening, Fr. Mackin showed me a photograph of my grandparents when they were living back in Iowa. I thought that was a nice detail: I had travelled all the way to Ireland and met someone who knew my grandparents—and he still had a photograph of them. Fr. Mackin spoke highly of my grandparents.
(A little side note: Dan Shey’s grandfather (O’Shea) came from County Kerry; Bertha (Cruise) Shey’s father came from County Roscommon.)
So I stayed the night, packed my backpack the next morning, said goodbye to Fr. Mackin and hit the road.
I walked a few miles and this guy picked me up. He said that maybe I shouldn’t be hitchhiking so close to the border with Northern Ireland. Just a week before, this IRA (Irish Republican Army) gunman hijacked a car and drove into Northern Ireland.
We drove several miles and we stopped at this place where a construction company had its office—there was some road construction in the area. The guy told me that the managing director of the construction company was there and that he might give me a ride into Northern Ireland. A few minutes later, the managing director walked outside. I was introduced to him by the other guy and I now had a ride towards Belfast.
I don’t remember the managing director’s name, but we had an intense talk about a lot of things. He was raised in Wales and went to college at Cambridge. He told me that he had played a lot of rugby as a young man and had hitchhiked all over England and France playing rugby.
Driving through Northern Ireland, I saw this military helicopter land near this farmhouse and these armed soldiers jumped out of the helicopter and ran towards the farmhouse. I had a surprised look on my face. The guy told me that you see the British Army a lot in Northern Ireland.
He originally was going to drop me off on the outskirts of Belfast, but we had such a great talk, he said that he would drop me off at the docks in Larne instead. I told him that my plan was to take a ferry across to Scotland and travel to Dundee and look up the relatives of the Jim Foley family of Carlow.
He dropped me off in Larne and I got on a ferry to Stranraer, Scotland.
When I got to Stranraer, I met this guy from France. He asked me, “Do you speak French?”
I shook my head and said, “No.”
Then he asked, “London?”
I replied, “South.” Then I pointed south.
The Frenchman walked to the highway and began to hitchhike. I walked to the bus station and sat there for a while. I walked outside an hour later and the Frenchman was gone—he had gotten a ride. I went back inside the bus station and slept there that night.
The next day I got a bus to Glasgow. From there I got on a bus to Stirling, Perth and then to Dundee. I stayed at a motel that night in Dundee. I then phoned the relatives of the Jim Foley family. They said it would be all right to stay with them for a short while. I stayed there a week and then got on a bus from Dundee to London.
I arrived at Victoria Station in London and then got on another bus to Southampton. In Southampton, I walked around near the docks and visited four shipping companies. I asked them if I could work for my passage to South Africa. I wanted to eventually end up in Tanzania where a friend of my family, a Catholic priest, worked at a mission. All four shipping companies turned me down; they said that they didn’t let people work for their passage anymore.
By that time, it was getting dark and I didn’t know where to go. I went to this St. James Shelter for homeless men, but they didn’t let me in because I told them that I had some money on me (they only allowed men who were penniless).
I walked and walked all over downtown Southampton. It started to rain and I was getting cold and wet. I started to get down in the dumps. I then walked to the police station and asked a policeman there if I could stay in the jail overnight. He said absolutely not; the jail was for criminals only. Then I really became dejected. The jailer later told me that I could go to the Salvation Army and they would put me up for the night for five pounds. I thanked him and walked to the Salvation Army where I had a warm bed to sleep in that night.
The next day after breakfast, I walked to the edge of this highway on the west side of Southampton. I waited an hour and got a ride. We drove through Salisbury and stopped at this pub where the guy bought me a pint of beer. He told me that he had been to America before and thought that the beer in America tasted terrible.
We then drove through Bath, past Bristol and into Wales. He dropped me off and then I got a ride with this guy and we went through Abergavenny, Llandovery, Llandeilo and Carmarthen. I got another ride to Haverfordwest and then got dropped off around fifteen miles from Fishguard.
It was raining and past sundown and I sat at this bus stop for awhile and tried to sleep, but couldn’t. I saw this little shed behind the bus stop, so I walked to the shed, found some hay and covered myself up with the hay and slept there that night.
The next day I walked to Fishguard and then to the docks.
I had a little money on me, but not enough to take the ferry across to Ireland. At the docks, I met this Englishman and this Irishman. The Englishman asked me if I could help the Irishman. The Irishman hitchhiked from London to Dover thinking that he wanted to go to France. He changed his mind and then hitchhiked to Fishguard. He had no money on him. Well, to make a long story short, the Englishman, the Irishman and myself put our heads together, put our money together and we all three were able to get on the ferry to Ireland.
The ferry took us from Fishguard to Rosslare Harbor in County Wexford. The Irishman thanked me and thanked me and thanked me for helping him out. He said that I could stay with his family in Wexford for the night, but I declined the offer. We shook hands and I began walking down the highway.
I walked several miles and it was way past sundown. I saw this shed in a pasture, so I jumped over the fence and slept in the hay bales of that shed that night.
The next day I hitchhiked back up to Carlow and phoned the Foley family. I stayed there with the Foley family and helped with the sugar beet harvest. I then flew back to the States around the 1st of November.
May 1981: Northern Ireland and Bob Jamieson of NBC News
Setting Sail: Irish Immigration During the Potato Famine
Born Fighting: How the Scots-Irish Shaped America
Athy, County Kildare, Ireland
Revival in Ireland?
Hitchhiking Stories from Digihitch
About ten days ago I was talking with Bo (he and his wife, Melissa, have been letting me stay at their place for over a month now) and he told me that he had been working on a house in Hailey, Idaho that day. He has done a lot of construction work in the Hailey/Ketchum area in the past few years. Bo told me that he talked with the painter who was also doing some work on the house. He told the painter that he and his wife and kids picked up this hitchhiker (me) a week before Thanksgiving south of Bellevue. They drove him to Shoshone and dropped him off. The hitchhiker camped out that night and they met him again at the gas station the next morning. Bo gave the hitchhiker his address. The hitchhiker hit the road and hitchhiked to Montana and back into Idaho and has stayed with Bo’s family since just before Thanksgiving. Bo also mentioned that the hitchhiker had a couple of books published.
The painter told Bo that he had picked me up a few years ago in Nevada—maybe in the Elko, Nevada area. He said that the hitchhiker had a couple of books published and also had a couple of blogs that he worked on. He then told Bo that a friend of his picked me up a year earlier than he did somewhere in Nevada. It is such a small world.
Why did this happen? To me it is confirmation that I am supposed to stay with Bo and Melissa for a while. We have had some really good fellowship.
Hitchhiking from Challis to Bellevue, Idaho
Brian’s Dream about the United States and Africa
Chris McCandless Revisited
Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010
2 January 2009
Yesterday I hitchhiked from Belgrade to Columbus, Montana. I slept on a lift of lumber in a shed at the Timberweld place last night. The stack of lumber I slept on was three lifts high; the stack in front of me was four lifts high, so I was well-hidden from anybody at ground level.
This morning around eight o’clock I heard some people talking in the shed that I was in. There were two men and one woman. They were taking inventory. When they got near to where I was sleeping, this one guy climbed up a ladder to read off the numbers to the lady below.
Then the guy on the ladder saw my shaving kit and my shoes. “Hey, I see something,” he said.
“What is it?” the other guy asked.
“I don’t know. Let me get my flashlight.” He shined the flashlight on my things and said, “I see a pair of shoes.”
The other guy asked, “Do you see a blanket? We had a guy sleeping in here a while back. If you see anybody up there, apologize [for waking him up] and move on to the next stack.”
That’s when I spoke up. “Hey, I’m up here. I’ll get out as soon as I can.” I had been eating some bread and peanut butter for breakfast.
The guy on the ladder said, “That’s all right.”
The two men and the woman continued with their work.
After I packed up my things in my backpack, I jumped down from my sleeping berth and walked over to the man and woman doing inventory—the other guy had walked off to some other place. We spoke for a little while; the lady said that it had gotten down to 18 degrees F last night. I stayed nice and warm on the stack of lumber. I then walked across the railroad tracks to a convenience store to get a cup of coffee.
I will head south to Red Lodge later this morning and then mosey into Wyoming.
Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010
16 July 2007
I hitchhiked from North Fork, Idaho to Missoula, Montana today. It is very hot right now–around 96 degrees F–so I thought I would sit down at a picnic table under a shade tree and do some writing.
Yesterday I was walking somewhere between Yankee Fork and Clayton, Idaho on U.S. 93 when this lady pulled over to pick me up. Her name was Lucille and she was 81 years old–and she was an on-fire, Holy Ghost Christian. We had a great talk all the way to Salmon where she stopped to visit a friend of hers, Dorothy, who is also a Christian.
Dorothy had been suffering from macular degeneration in her eyes, her ears weren’t 100 per cent and she had arthritis in her hands. Other than that, Dorothy looked pretty healthy for a woman of 84. She definitely was anointed with the Holy Ghost and had a very strong faith in the Lord.
Lucille and I had Dorothy sit in a chair in the living room and we began to pray for her. I laid my hands on her head and began praying loudly in tongues. I then laid my hands on her ears. I could feel virtue go through my hands. Dorothy definitely had a healing touch from the Lord. It was a powerful time.
After the prayer meeting, Dorothy tried to stand up, but she wobbled around a bit. I asked her if she was dizzy. Dorothy said, no, that she was drunk in the Spirit.
Dorothy and Lucille took me out to eat at Brewster’s Restaurant in Salmon and then I hit the road. I hitchhiked to North Fork and then walked a few miles, jumped over a fence and slept in someone’s pasture that night. I found an old piece of plywood lying around in the grass, unrolled my sleeping bag on top of it and slept pretty good last night.
I am at the Missoula Memorial Rose Garden; they have a World War II, Korea and Vietnam War memorial here. I’ll probably walk to I-90 and then head east. It is really hot here [it later got up to 102 degrees F]; I’m feeling a bit dizzy.
A little bit more about Lucille. She said that she was first married in 1942. Her first husband was in World War II and was a waist gunner in a B-17 bomber. He flew in 50 missions over Europe. On his 50th mission, he got shot down over France and was captured by German SS troops and spent two years as a P.O.W. He said the flak was really bad: the tail section of the B-17 got blown off; half the crew was killed. The pilot, the co-pilot, another guy and he were able to bail out of the plane. The French Underground tried to help them, but they were eventually captured. One guy did manage to escape and made it back to England and then to the United States.
I guess Lucille’s husband was tortured while he was a P.O.W. When he came home after the war, he suffered greatly from battle fatigue: she would be sleeping in bed and he would start hitting her because he would be having a bad dream or a flashback. After ten years of physical abuse, Lucille got divorced from her husband. In 1945, World War II ended–but not for some people.
Lucille later got remarried and got gloriously saved at the age of 47. Now she joyfully serves the Lord and does His will. She even picked up a hitchhiker on a highway in Idaho and I am very grateful that she did. Lucille is a gift from God.
The First Time I Rode a Freight Train & other hitchhiking stories
Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010
14 July 2007
Just got dropped off here in Wells, Nevada. I got a good ride with a truck driver from Sparks–his name was Viktor and he was originally from the Ukraine. He didn’t speak much English, so we didn’t talk about much.
Yesterday as I walked through Mariposa, California, these two ladies picked me up and dropped me off at Mt. Bullion–there was a bar there, so I thought I would stop there and get a cheeseburger.
These two ladies were Christians and the lady driving knew that she was supposed to give me a ride. She told me that she picked up this hitchhiker in Bakersfield a while back and he was really different–he kept staring at her. He asked her, “Aren’t you afraid of me?” And she said, “I am washed in the Blood of Jesus Christ.” He didn’t say much after that.
The lady then told me that later on–it was either in a newspaper article or on the local nightly news–that the police had a man in jail that had killed a few women in the Bakersfield area. The hitchhiker that she had picked up looked exactly like the guy that the police had in custody.
The police questioned the hitchhiker/killer and he said that he took this one woman out to Tehachapi into the desert and he wanted to kill her, but he wasn’t able to. My guess is that she was a Christian and the demon inside of him was not able to overpower the Holy Spirit inside of her. There is power, power, wonderworking power in the Blood of the Lamb.
Some hitchhikers really make it difficult for other hitchhikers, but the Lord is with me–He inspires people to give me rides when I need them. I am a Blood-washed hitchhiker.
Kai the Hero Hitchhiker
Northwestern United States
In the past week, I hitchhiked from Helena, Montana to Dayton, Washington. The ride from Helena took me to Missoula. This guy’s name was Harry and he came from the Fort Peck Indian Reservation in northeast Montana. Harry was from the Assiniboine Tribe; we had a good talk. I told him that I was a Christian. He knew very little about Christianity. I told him about my faith in Jesus and that he should read the Gospel of John in the New Testament. I think he said that someone gave him a copy of the New Testament some years ago.
It had been snowing that morning when I left Helena and there was some slush on I-90. Harry was going 85 miles per hour when he hit a patch of slush. All of a sudden, we were going sideways down the interstate. Then we went sideways down into the median (I thought we were going to roll his van over) and continued going sideways into the next lane into oncoming traffic. This big tractor-trailer was bearing down on us and I thought we were going to get T-boned by the tractor-trailer when, all of a sudden, the van straightened itself out. Harry took control and we drove on the shoulder to the next exit. That happened near Clinton, Montana.
It was quite a rush for at least several seconds. It all happened so quickly. Harry and I looked at each other and heaved a sigh of relief. Harry said that my God saved us. I said, Praise the Lord!
Harry was in a hurry to get to this hospital in Missoula; he had injured his back getting bucked off of a horse during his rodeo days. We went to this hospital where they gave him some shots in his back. I sat and talked with Harry as he lay in the bed. The nurses thought it was pretty funny that he had picked up a hitchhiker.
After the hospital, Harry took me to his relations’ place in Missoula and I slept on the floor that night. The next morning, his nephew drove me to Lolo where I started walking west on U.S. 12.
I walked a couple of miles or so and this married couple in a vehicle pulled over. They were Michael and Sandy and we had some excellent fellowship–they were really in tune with the Holy Ghost. We drove to a cabin that they had rented and had a powerful prayer meeting. The demons were manifesting in Michael as I commanded them to come out. We later had breakfast at a local bar/restaurant and then headed back to Clinton where I stayed at their place for the night. The next day Michael drove me over Lolo Pass to Lochsa Lodge and dropped me off. Then I walked a few miles and got a ride to Kooskia, Idaho.
From Kooskia I got a ride to Kim and Pat Hosking’s place between Stites and Harpster. I met Kim and Pat while I was hitchhiking on U.S. 12 near Lolo, Montana in 2004. Kim builds wood furniture and has a portable band saw, so he can cut up logs into boards.
I hadn’t seen Kim and Pat in a year. They let me stay for five nights. I helped Kim cut some white pine, yellow pine and red fir logs on his band saw. Pat was doing some editing on her book The Lion’s Roar (her pen name is Margaret Hosking).
Yesterday, I hitchhiked from Kim and Pat’s place to Kamiah. From Kamiah I hitchhiked to Lewiston, walked across Clarkston, Washington and got a ride to Dayton where I will be staying with Gene and Tanya.
I met Gene and Tanya back in October of 2008. Gene and his son picked me up hitchhiking in Walla Walla and took me home. They asked me to speak at their church in Dayton. Tanya gave me a sleeping bag back in 2008 which I still have.
Gene and Tanya and I have had some real good fellowship. I may be here for a few nights and then head into Oregon.
It rained last night; the skies are overcast now. I got a real good sunburn on my neck and arms after working with Kim on the band saw. It is a real blessing to be out of the sun for a few days.
Rose Hill Woodworks