Hitchhiking, or hitching, is the main form of travel on long-distance trails from trailheads to towns. Love it or hate it, they always make for memorable stories featuring mostly unbelievable kindness or, very seldom, sketchy situations. Either way, you’ll have a great story and, possibly, a new friend.
Thru-hiking: a foot-trodden journey over thousands of miles through a country’s most beautiful areas while doing all the things your parents told you to never do. There is nothing quite like coming over a ridge to the most breathtaking scene only to meet a complete stranger that you decide to camp with that night not knowing whether they are a really great person or a serial killer. Ok, that’s a little dramatic as it’s very unlikely they are the axe murder your family warned you about. On the flip side though, you never know if you are going to be the one in a million that ends up with the axe murderer.
I digress. Anyway, long-distance backpacking is truly one of the most amazing experiences a person can have in their life. Of course the views are incredible and the people are wonderful, but it’s the unexpected turn of events that truly make it magical. The cold drinks left in a trailhead cooler labeled “Trail Magic,” seeing a friend you made months ago appear out of the woods to your great surprise, and the meal offered from a family having a picnic along the trail all make life on the trail so memorable. For me, it was these random acts of kindness that kept me going. For Pete’s sake, I literally had a women take off her bug net pants and give them to me when she saw how badly I had been bitten by mosquitos in North Cascades National Park in Washington. People are just so kind.
Which brings me to a subject a get asked a lot about – and one that gets blown way out of proportion: hitchhiking. Hitching is a necessary form of transportation on thru-hike, and it was something I was so nervous to do especially by myself. Even as a 25-year-old man at the time, I figured one person was easy prey for a group of sadists looking to sacrifice someone. Being in a group did not feel nearly as intimidating since it seemed more likely to me that our prospective rides might be better people. I’m not sure where my logic came from, but that’s how I felt about it.
I remember the first time I stuck my thumb out to bum a ride, I felt embarrassed and insecure. I had never felt so lowly in my life. I thought I would sit there for hours waiting, but sure enough, a car pulled over relatively soon to pick up the group I was hitching with. My friends did most of the talking to the person driving while I just tried to take in the situation I had found myself in. Here I was a conservative, most-sheltered guy in a strangers car with a bunch of, essentially, other strangers. I could already hear my mom’s voice yelling, “What did I tell you about getting in the car with strangers? You’ve known better than that since you were a kid.” But we made it to our destination. I can’t even remember where we were going now because I was in such a state of shock that nothing bad happened. That wasn’t so bad, I thought.
Like anything else, the more repetition you get doing something, the more comfortable it feels. I was slow to hitch alone, but by the time I’d hit New England on the Appalachian Trail, I felt like a professional.
“Hey man, you want to wait for someone to ride with you?,” Someone would ask.
“Nope. I’m good! See y’all down the trail,” I would respond confidently.
I grew to love hitching, and my experiences were even better on the Pacific Crest Trail. My friends and I pulled a hitch off a day hiker at the top of Kearsarge Pass in the Sierra Nevada. He was heading back to Los Angeles that day, but after talking with all the way into Lone Pine, CA, he drove an hour out of his way to Bishop and bought us lunch because he enjoyed us so much. Another girl in Oregon invited us over for dinner at her place after dropping us off at the camp we were staying at close to her place. My friends and I had a wonderful steak dinner, played games, and enjoyed getting to know her and thanking her for her kindness. An older man picked us up near Quincy, CA, and when we arrived in town, he took us on a complete tour of the town explaining where all the food, resupply, and laundry would be before dropping us off at the hotel. Even the hitches that I pulled by myself were always filled with wonderful conversation and kindness. Many people have given me their numbers telling me to call them if I ever needed them while I was in the area. I will never forget these people or the way they went out of their way to help a stranger like me.
However, for the hundreds of amazing hitches I’ve taken, there was one hitch in particular that I thought for sure would put me on either a milk carton or dateline.
It was a beautiful day in Gorham, New Hampshire. I had just completed the treacherous presidential section in the White Mountains, and I was taking a much needed zero day at the Barn Hostel with many of my friends. I had already resupplied and done all my chores which meant I had the rest of the day to chill and eat candy.
Until…
“Hey Mav, want to come with me to Bethel?,” I heard Deetz call.
Deetz was one of my best friends on the trail. We had met near Roan Mountain, but I parted ways with him and the rest of the friends I made in Damascus. However, the trail provided and I had reconnected with them in Massachusetts. Deetz and I had become close pals, and we had hiked pretty close together from Massachusetts including all of the White Mountains until we finally made it to Gorham.
“Sure. What do you need to go there for?,” I replied. I figured it wouldn’t take to long. Plus, it would be a fun little adventure for the day.
“There’s an outfitter over there that will honor the warranty on my broken trekking poles. And there’s supposedly an amazing burger joint that I’ve got to try,” said Deetz. He got his trail name for being all about the details – hence Deetz, and he was especially good knowing all about finding a good place to eat.
“Yeah I’m definitely in! Let’s go,” I said enthusiastically. I could absolutely smash a good burger at that point.
We walked out to the road, stuck out our thumbs, and watched the first car coming down the road pull over to give us a ride. What luck!
“Where are you guys headed?,” asked the driver. He was an average looking dude in a beat up old Honda Civic looking car.
“Bethel,” said Deetz. “Think you can give us a lift that way? I’ve got to go to the outfitter on the other side of town.”
“I can get you to Bethel, no problem. You’ll have to get another hitch from there though,” the driver replied back.
After a super quick discussion, Deetz and I decided to jump in and we’d figure out the rest when we got to Bethel. It was a start.
Deetz jumped in the passenger seat, and I slid in the back behind Deetz.
“So what brings you guys to town?,” asked our new friend.
“We’re hiking the Appalachian Trail. Have you ever hear of it?,” asked Deetz.
Deetz began to briefly explain the trail, how far it was, and our adventures so far when the guy said he had a pretty vague idea of what it was.
“That’s sick. You guys are crazy though,” He laughed as he drove.
“What about you, man? What’s your story?,” said Deetz politely and genuinely wanting to hear his story after hearing ours.
“Well, it’s complicated,” He said.
“Oh yeah? How so?,” asked Deetz with care.
“Well, I’ve been in some trouble recently. I got out of jail not too long ago,” said the driver calmly.
My hand crept towards the door handle.
“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that,” said Deetz.
“Yeah, it’s ok. I’m doing alright now. I’ve got a good job, but just trying to get back on my feet,” he said, still calm.
“That’s good to hear. Glad it’s looking better for,” said Deetz reassuringly.
“Yeah, only problem is that everyone hates me. My friends and family don’t talk to me. They don’t want anything to do with me,” he said, his voice beginning to rise.
My hand made its way to the handle.
“I’m so sorry about that. You don’t deserve that,” said Deetz, a touch of anxiety coming through his voice.
“Yeah, I’ve really changed. I’m a better man. I know I was on some drugs for a long time and did some things I shouldn’t have. I’ve been in and out of jail a lot, but I’m getting better. They just don’t believe me,” he said, anger starting to rise in his rehashing of his recent life events.
Truly, I wished this guy all the best. However, I was terrified in the back seat. If he starts raging, I’m rolling, I thought. We’re not going that fast. I could survive jumping out of this car.
Deetz, however, was a master in the front seat.
“You know, you really don’t deserve any of the treatment your family and friends are giving you. I can see that you’re a really good person,” he said. I mean the guy had picked us up, so he definitely had a good heart. However, it definitely felt like Deetz was feeding a fire so as to make sure we arrived alive to Bethel.
Our 20 minute hitch that felt like hours finally ended at a gas station right in town.
“Is this a good place to drop you guys off?,” He asked kindly.
“This is perfect,” said Deetz.
Honestly, he could’ve dropped me off on the side of the road miles back. I was itching to get out of that car.
Deetz offered the guy some money for his generosity which he was very appreciative of, and he drove off.
“Deetz, I’m never hitching with you again,” I blurted out with relief.
“That was so scary. I thought he was going to take out all his anger on us,” said Deetz.
“I’m just thankful you were in the front seat. You handled that perfectly. Really saved us by gassing him up like that,” I said.
“I mean, I did mean it, but I also just wanted to make sure he knew I was his friend no matter what,” said Deetz. “I do feel really bad for him.”
“Yeah me too. I’m just glad that’s over,” I said.
We eventually got a much nicer hitch to the outfitter. That guy was even willing to wait for Deetz to figure out his trekking pole situation – which got resolved, and he took us back to the burger joint where we did, in fact, have the best burger on the trail.
Shameless plug, it was small place called Butcher Burger Maine. It’s absolutely worth going to if you’re close by.
As we sat there discussing how we were going to get back, a lovely couple from Boston overheard us talking and offered to take us back. They were so interested in our hike, and we had a great ride with them back to Gorham.
There is a saying that the “trail provides,” and that day it had provided in a scary, beautiful, and memorable way.
The more I’ve hitched, the more I’ve realized that there are so many good people in the world – more than we probably realize. It’s easy to think the loud, obnoxious, hateful people are the majority. They’re the ones who get the attention on the news and on social media. However, in the quiet, day-to-day rhythms of life, good people exist sharing their kindness with their neighbors. They’re not looking for praise or glory. They’re just hoping they can do right by people. They’re hoping they can share a smile or a laugh with someone. They’re hoping they can simply make someone’s day a little bit better.
Even though the ride was a little intense for my liking, it was a moment of connection with another person who needed it, and I believe he was grateful for our company. Even if he did scare us.
I can say with complete certainty that I have never walked away from a hitch thinking that I didn’t make a genuine connection with someone. In the few moments in time between a pick up and a drop off, I would learn so much about a person and vice versa. Even though our time together was as fleeting as a vapor, we had become friends. I would thank them for the ride, and they would thank me for the great stories. We would wish each other luck and be on our way.
I wish they could all know how thankful I am all these years later, and that I’ve never forgotten their kindness.
I’m not saying you should hitchhike… but maybe you should.
What I am saying is that, despite all the stigma surrounding it, hitchhiking became one of the most rewarding parts of my thru-hike. Time after time, complete strangers chose to inconvenience themselves just to help a dirty hiker get to town. Their generosity restored a little bit of my faith in people every single time.
Maybe you’ll never stick out your thumb on the side of the road, and that’s okay. But maybe you need a long drive with someone you know and love. Maybe you need to put the phones away, trade stories, ask questions, and simply enjoy each other’s company.
Because that’s really what all of this has been about. The rides were never just about getting to town. They were about the people I met along the way.
I hope you decide to take that ride. I can’t wait to hear where it leads you.
– Ralston Drake
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved experiencing it and sharing it. Be sure to subscribe for free below to be sure you get a notification whenever I post a new article. Thank you again! I hope your next adventure is one to write about some day too!
Wandering with Ralston 
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