slowing down

I wander around Durham for a day visiting the university and the cathedral before ending the night in a pub together with my couchsurfing host’s fieldhockey team. We don’t make it very late however, as they have a game tomorrow. That works out well for me because my host offers me a ride to the road leading south.

I’ve tried to find a place to sleep in a few places in North Yorkshire, but had no luck so I decide to head to Harrogate just because I hear it’s a pretty town. On my way there I initially get a few short rides, before being picked up by a bored musician who goes out of his way to help me out. Eventually he bores of me too and drops me off about 20 kilometers before Harrogate. Next I’m picked up by a farmer and her kids. It turns out she used to live in the Netherlands and has a Dutch brother-in-law. We hit it off and she offers to put me up for the night. But the date by which I have to be back home is approaching fasy and as interesting as it’s bound to be I know staying in a farm off a main road will be too much of a delay. Instead I spend the night on the outskirts of Harrogate in the parking lot of a gravestone shop hidden from the road. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so I doubt I will attract any attention.

I’ve got a bed waiting for me in Lincoln, but hitchhiking is not going well. It’s not so far and there’s a motorway, but I spend over an hour by an on ramp and nobody’s stopping. So instead I decide to try my luck on the back roads. Which works… in a way; more people stop but they’re rarely going further than a dozen or so kilometers so as the sun sets I’m still about eighty kilometers north of Lincoln. Someone offers me a ride to the outskirts of Doncaster which is a bit of a detour, but it’s right by the motorway and I really just want to leave this place, so I take up the offer.