Hitching Maryland
"Maybe we should just wait here."
My dad and I had just finished our small weekend hike of twenty-something miles on the Appalachian trail between West Virginia and Maryland. What we had expected to be a two day trip through about 26 miles or mountain ridge hiking ended up being a one say trip with some time to spare. So we stayed at our destination to take a break, then later doubled back some 5 miles to find a nice place to set up camp before it got dark, only to return to our destination in the morning.
We stood around for some time weighing out the pros and cons of waiting. We had arranged for one of the locals nicknamed "Strings" to take us back to Harper's Ferry for a small fee. But we were way ahead of schedule, and Strings wasn't answering his phone this morning. To be honest, I was against the idea of waiting around and hoping Strings would pick up the phone, but I suppose my Dad has a lot more confidence in people named "Strings".
"Maybe we could hitchhike out of here." I propose sheepishly, knowing it wouldn't be well received.
We ended up waiting another 30 minutes expecting to hear back from Strings, leaving another voice mail or two. No luck. The possibility of hitchhiking back to Harper's Ferry was getting increasingly more appealing to my Dad, and frankly I've been wanting to try my hand at hitchhiking for some time now. I'd been reading articles online and buying gear for a cross country trip I was planning for in 2014. Needless to say I wanted to put all sorts of knowledge into practice today.
So we stopped a couple of thru-hikers to use their map, and begun heading down the side of the mountain on some winding road down to route 67. My dad was still convinced that we were making a big mistake by not standing still, waiting in beautiful Gathland State Park for our ride to get back to us. It was a hot day, somewhere in the 90s, and once we got to route 67, we could expect a long walk with minimal shade if no one decided to pick us up. It didn't help that we had lost our sun block some time the night before.
As I stuck out my thumb while walking down this winding forest road, I tried to convince my Dad that we were in an awful location to hitchhike from. Cars didn't have much time to see us as they flew by, and it was a little used road. And so we spent the next hour or so watching what few cars came by zip by us, seemingly ignoring our existence, but it didn't concern us too much. I was happy to be on the road, and my Dad was happy to be in the shade, walking down a road teeming with blackberry bushes. So we trudged along, picking handfuls of blackberries, enjoying the sights of mountains in the distance and happy little homes nearby.
It was almost noon when we got a call from Strings. He told us he was tied up at work, which was fine, because we were much farther ahead of schedule than either of us had expected. He let us know that he'd be able to come pick us up in a few hours if we just stay put. So we took the liberty of telling him we had actually started hoofing it on foot, and we were getting close to route 67. We'd call him if we were still on the road in a few hours and figure things out from there.
Lucky for us, route 67 was just up ahead, and it was straight as an arrow, moderately busy and had nice big road shoulders. It was perfect for hitchhiking. We got onto the side of the road and I stuck my big sexy thumb out and flashed a big smile at the oncoming couple of cars. Probably 30 seconds had passed before a car pulled over on the side of the road and waved for us to hop in. This is the kind of luck hitchhikers could only dream of. I can't say I was a big believer in beginner's luck before, but today was was the day that all changed. We asked where our new friends were heading, and grinned ear to ear when they told us they were going to an Econolodge in Harper's Ferry. We got into the back seat and we were off.
Our drivers (a man and a woman) were a couple of thru-hikers that were staying in town for a day or two to live life and enjoy the bar scene. In fact, the car they picked us up in wasn't even theirs. A friend lent it to them while they were out of town. The man was from Chicago. Apparently a veteran of sorts when it came to thru-hiking the AT. The woman was from Utah and had been traveling with the man ever since Georgia. We spent the next 20 or so minutes soaring down route 67 swapping stories, and being instructed never to get too focused on our destinations in life unless we're willing to risk missing out on all of the fun that's happening in the now. The man repeatedly told us that his greatest times they've had on the AT were when they cared much less about how quickly they were progressing through the trail, and much more about enjoying the company of those around them. Whether it was partying the weekends away, or just quality time in the company of others around a campfire in the seemingly infinite Appalachian wilderness, they were happiest when they were simply focused on the present. A simple life philosophy, but a respectable one at the very least.
And we continued down the road, telling stories and laughing.
My dad and I had just finished our small weekend hike of twenty-something miles on the Appalachian trail between West Virginia and Maryland. What we had expected to be a two day trip through about 26 miles or mountain ridge hiking ended up being a one say trip with some time to spare. So we stayed at our destination to take a break, then later doubled back some 5 miles to find a nice place to set up camp before it got dark, only to return to our destination in the morning.
We stood around for some time weighing out the pros and cons of waiting. We had arranged for one of the locals nicknamed "Strings" to take us back to Harper's Ferry for a small fee. But we were way ahead of schedule, and Strings wasn't answering his phone this morning. To be honest, I was against the idea of waiting around and hoping Strings would pick up the phone, but I suppose my Dad has a lot more confidence in people named "Strings".
"Maybe we could hitchhike out of here." I propose sheepishly, knowing it wouldn't be well received.
We ended up waiting another 30 minutes expecting to hear back from Strings, leaving another voice mail or two. No luck. The possibility of hitchhiking back to Harper's Ferry was getting increasingly more appealing to my Dad, and frankly I've been wanting to try my hand at hitchhiking for some time now. I'd been reading articles online and buying gear for a cross country trip I was planning for in 2014. Needless to say I wanted to put all sorts of knowledge into practice today.
So we stopped a couple of thru-hikers to use their map, and begun heading down the side of the mountain on some winding road down to route 67. My dad was still convinced that we were making a big mistake by not standing still, waiting in beautiful Gathland State Park for our ride to get back to us. It was a hot day, somewhere in the 90s, and once we got to route 67, we could expect a long walk with minimal shade if no one decided to pick us up. It didn't help that we had lost our sun block some time the night before.
As I stuck out my thumb while walking down this winding forest road, I tried to convince my Dad that we were in an awful location to hitchhike from. Cars didn't have much time to see us as they flew by, and it was a little used road. And so we spent the next hour or so watching what few cars came by zip by us, seemingly ignoring our existence, but it didn't concern us too much. I was happy to be on the road, and my Dad was happy to be in the shade, walking down a road teeming with blackberry bushes. So we trudged along, picking handfuls of blackberries, enjoying the sights of mountains in the distance and happy little homes nearby.
It was almost noon when we got a call from Strings. He told us he was tied up at work, which was fine, because we were much farther ahead of schedule than either of us had expected. He let us know that he'd be able to come pick us up in a few hours if we just stay put. So we took the liberty of telling him we had actually started hoofing it on foot, and we were getting close to route 67. We'd call him if we were still on the road in a few hours and figure things out from there.
Lucky for us, route 67 was just up ahead, and it was straight as an arrow, moderately busy and had nice big road shoulders. It was perfect for hitchhiking. We got onto the side of the road and I stuck my big sexy thumb out and flashed a big smile at the oncoming couple of cars. Probably 30 seconds had passed before a car pulled over on the side of the road and waved for us to hop in. This is the kind of luck hitchhikers could only dream of. I can't say I was a big believer in beginner's luck before, but today was was the day that all changed. We asked where our new friends were heading, and grinned ear to ear when they told us they were going to an Econolodge in Harper's Ferry. We got into the back seat and we were off.
Our drivers (a man and a woman) were a couple of thru-hikers that were staying in town for a day or two to live life and enjoy the bar scene. In fact, the car they picked us up in wasn't even theirs. A friend lent it to them while they were out of town. The man was from Chicago. Apparently a veteran of sorts when it came to thru-hiking the AT. The woman was from Utah and had been traveling with the man ever since Georgia. We spent the next 20 or so minutes soaring down route 67 swapping stories, and being instructed never to get too focused on our destinations in life unless we're willing to risk missing out on all of the fun that's happening in the now. The man repeatedly told us that his greatest times they've had on the AT were when they cared much less about how quickly they were progressing through the trail, and much more about enjoying the company of those around them. Whether it was partying the weekends away, or just quality time in the company of others around a campfire in the seemingly infinite Appalachian wilderness, they were happiest when they were simply focused on the present. A simple life philosophy, but a respectable one at the very least.
And we continued down the road, telling stories and laughing.
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