“You’ll have no trouble getting a ride out of Sydney mate” I’d been assured. Hitchhiking was common in Australia and lots of people would be driving out of the city for Easter. So, standing on the outskirts of the city I was mystified at the lack of response to a jaunty thumb and cheerful smile. It was getting dark when the driver of a little Mini stopped, rolled down his window cautiously, and asked if I was having trouble getting a ride. And that’s how I learned two murderous rapists had escaped from a ward for the criminally insane, triggering the biggest manhunt in the history of New South Wales. And that the police description of one sounded very much like me. It was promising to be a long night.
Reprieve
I was in Watson’s Bay, just outside Sydney, for six weeks of training with the Royal Australian Navy, with the Easter break offering an opportunity to meet an uncle who had immigrated to Australia when my parents and I had moved to Canada. He and his family lived in Port Macquarie, well to the north, known for its scenery, wildlife and beaches. Short on cash and trusting local advice, I’d committed myself to hitchhiking.
Unfortunately the Mini driver was only going a few blocks further, but was kind enough to deliver me to a truck stop popular with long-distance drivers. He explained that “truckies” often preferred travelling at night to avoid traffic, and some were glad of companionship. Apparently, many companies had rules against carrying passengers but many drivers ignored them, especially if connections could be made socially at truck stops rather than pulling off the road for strangers. I ordered a coffee, spread my map of Australia on the table and looked ostentatiously north. It wasn’t long before a cheerful fellow came over to ask how far I was going. To my great relief he could offer a ride halfway, and on our way would send out a call on CB radio to see if anyone else could take me from there.
An Ancestor of Mobile Phones
Legal use of Citizens Band (CB) was still new then. Australian hobbyists and truckies had been using unlicensed short-range transceivers illegally for years, but only since 1977 could anyone buy and license a CB set, choose their own “handle” and chat away on whatever frequency was appropriate. One channel, for example, was for truckies and other road users. The ability to connect and exchange news and gossip was particularly welcome on lonely roads at night. And on this night it was also going to be useful to see if anyone might take pity on a hitchhiking Canadian.
Moonlit Adventure
It turned out to be a lovely moonlit night as we barrelled down mostly empty highway, with the occasional kangaroo bounding across the path ahead. As former owner of a sports car known for its cornering ability I was surprised at the speed with which these big tractor-trailers could take the curves. Still, as this first driver explained, it depends on controlled momentum, knowing the road, and considerable experience. He also took some delight in pointing out that that his cargo of steel beams was resting on one single kingpin, so if we came to a sudden stop the entire load would shear its way through the cab – and us.
I can’t remember now where the turnover happened – around Newcastle I think. CB chatter had turned up a truckie who would be passing Port Macquarie and could drop me off about eight kilometres from town. Later, as we approached that dropoff point, a car driver joined the conversation to say he was bound for downtown, and that he and his travelling companion would be happy to rendezvous. They were kind enough to drive straight to my uncle and aunt’s door, delivering me at six in the morning, just after sunrise.
The Joy of Spontaneity
This being a decade before mobile phones and two decades before Wi-Fi there had been no way to report progress to the family, so my early arrival caught them still in pyjamas. My aunt and a cousin’s wife had made plans to get their hair done that morning to look their best whenever their Canadian relative arrived but, in the true blue spirit of “dinkum” Aussies they quickly dished up a delightfully spontaneous “brekky” (breakfast), complete with cold beer, celebrated with much laughter and good cheer. It set the tone for a memorable weekend, with the added blessing that the two young fellows who had delivered me to the door would be driving all the way back into Sydney. A couple of days later they swung by to pick me up, delivering me back to “Watto Bay” in good time to start the next week’s training. Nice people, Australians.
In retrospect I’m glad all that happened before “smart” phones became de rigueur. They’re convenient for sure, but relying on them can preclude a lot of the serendipity, spontaneity and surprises that are the essence of adventure. It’s one reason I like walking pilgrimages – to fold away the security blankets occasionally and trust the Universe. After all, you can’t take leaps of faith wearing a safety harness.
Although it’s still a good idea to check local news before setting out.
Pictures:
Feature image: Screen grab from the truckingdownunder YouTube channel.
Newspaper headline from the Sydney Morning Herald, 15 April 1979