How can you experience more interesting things while traveling in a foreign place? I chose to hitchhike. Recently, I started from Melbourne, Australia, and hitched rides all the way to one of Australia’s most iconic central attractions, Uluru. Along the way, I encountered many fun and unforgettable experiences, and today I’d like to share some of those unique stories with you.
On my first day of hitchhiking in Melbourne, while trying to catch a ride on the highway, a Vietnamese-Australian driver stopped…
“Why are you here, and where are you headed?” the driver asked.
“I’m going to Adelaide. Another driver dropped me off here.”
“Adelaide!?!” He thought he had misheard and couldn’t figure out why I was on the highway. “I’ll take you to the train station up ahead. You can take the train to Adelaide, or maybe a bus.”
“No need, you can just let me off when you exit the highway.” I knew he had no idea what hitchhiking was all about.
“What will you do after that?” He really thought I was in some kind of trouble.
“Keep waiting for the next car that’s willing to give me a ride.”
“That’s not going to happen. You’re not even supposed to be on the highway—you might get picked up by the police.”
“But you stopped to give me a ride, didn’t you? I’m sure someone else will too.” I’d never heard that pedestrians weren’t allowed on highways, so I didn’t bother explaining further.
In the end, the car drove for just two minutes before reaching the spot where he let me off. Turns out, he was close to his destination anyway, and during those two minutes, he kept “persuading” me to go with him to the train station...
2)
Around 8 p.m., I was dropped off by a driver in the middle of nowhere, in a completely desolate area. It was tough to catch another ride going forward at that time. After waiting and waiting, I finally decided to walk back toward town—a little over an hour’s walk.
After walking for a while, I spotted a house by the roadside. Being the homebody that I am, I hesitated between knocking on the door to ask for help or continuing back on foot.
“Walking for two hours wouldn’t be too hard for me. Maybe I should just head back.”
“I could still try hitchhiking on the way back—maybe I’ll get lucky.”
“It probably wouldn’t be very nice to ring someone’s doorbell like this.”
“……”
I knew all these were just excuses to avoid the challenge. I had already left Hong Kong, and even ventured beyond any Australian city. Out here in this deserted wasteland, I couldn’t keep facing difficulties with such a mindset. Summoning my courage, I walked up and rang the doorbell, already preparing in my mind how I’d explain myself to the homeowner…
“Ding-dong…” The door opened almost immediately, and a man appeared.
“Hi, I’m currently traveling by hitchhiking. The last driver dropped me off here. I realized it’s really hard to catch another ride at this time, so would it be okay if I pitched a tent somewhere on your property?” Seeing the confusion in his eyes, I blurted everything out in one breath before he could say anything.
“Of course, you can pitch it anywhere you like. The grass over there is flatter, and there’s a water hose you can use.”
And just like that, the conversation ended. So all my worries had only been in my own head—once you take that first step, you realize everything is actually quite simple.
3)
Arriving in Coober Pedy in central Australia, I stayed at the area’s famous underground backpackers and got to experience life underground. There, I met another Japanese uncle and we chatted about our respective journeys.
“Are you here on vacation?” I knew it was a silly question, but it was a good icebreaker.
“Yeah, but I came by bicycle.” He said this extraordinary answer in the calmest tone.
“Wow!! Where are your starting and ending points?” I asked, eyes wide.
“I’m planning to bike from Adelaide to Darwin.”
I immediately pulled up a map. From Adelaide in South Australia, heading north to Darwin, nearly the northernmost city in the Northern Territory—that’s 3,000 kilometers.
I’ve read a lot of travel blogs before, seen plenty of people cycling on the road while riding in vehicles, and encountered many on China’s Sichuan-Tibet Highway. But on this relatively unpopular route, I really didn’t expect to meet such an extraordinary person. Though 3,000 kilometers isn’t extremely long for a long-distance cycling trip, the scorching heat over 40°C in central Australia posed a major challenge. And although I call him "uncle," looking at the white hair on his head, I’d conservatively guess he’s at least over fifty years old. I truly admire him for still challenging himself at that age.
"Did you drive here by yourself?" the uncle asked me.
"That’s how I got here," I replied, holding up my index finger.
A few seconds later, it was his turn to stare at me wide-eyed.
"Wow!Where did you start from?" A familiar question—I told him about my hitchhiking journey. Two travelers from different countries, using two completely different methods of travel, met in the same place.
When I left the room, the uncle was writing in his already densely filled diary with a ballpoint pen.
4)
After leaving Coober Pedy, I hitched a ride in a vehicle heading 600 kilometers to Alice Springs. Along the way, they had a tire problem, so we stopped to change it.
After changing the tire and setting off again, we suddenly stopped—but this time not just pulling over, we actually turned back.
"What’s going on?" I asked. The driver didn’t answer.
Soon after, the car stopped again. He spotted an overturned vehicle by the roadside. "I’m going to check if those tires are usable." Turns out, they "salvage" things like this too.
"If you have an accident in a place like this, calling a tow truck can easily cost thousands. So many drivers just abandon their cars where they are, and passersby take anything valuable—either for personal use or to sell," the driver explained.
The damaged vehicle was a small truck, but it was clearly driven by backpackers on a trip—the car was decorated with phrases in various languages, and the exterior was painted in very unique designs.
"Hope the owner’s okay," I said, glancing inside the wrecked vehicle, unable to help but worry about the driver’s safety.
"There doesn’t seem to be much blood on the seats, so I think they’re probably fine," the driver reassured me.
The spare tire wasn’t suitable, and anything else of value had already been taken, so we continued on our way. Soon, we found another abandoned car, and this time the tire size was just right, so they took one tire—making up for the loss from the earlier flat.
5)
We arrived at Yulara, a small town just 20 kilometers from Uluru. After spending the night, we headed toward Uluru the next day. Fortunately, since most people there were tourists, they were more than happy to give me a lift for just 20 kilometers, so I got a ride in less than five minutes.
When I arrived at the Uluru site, there were quite a few Chinese tourists. Because I was wearing a black fly net, they couldn’t see my face clearly and thus didn’t realize I was Chinese.
"Look, that guy is here too," I heard someone speaking Cantonese talking about me.
"Who?"
"When we arrived earlier, this guy was standing by the roadside giving a thumbs-up."
"Didn’t expect him to get here so fast."
"Do you want me to take a group photo for you guys?" I saw a group of six or seven people—elderly and young—taking a group shot, so I volunteered. My real intention wasn’t really to help them take a photo, but to see their reaction when they realized I was also from Hong Kong.
The Hong Kong uncle froze for a second, staring at me wide-eyed, trying to see my face through the fly net.
"Didn’t expect me to understand Cantonese, huh? I also know the fly net makes it hard for you to see me," I said.
"Yeah, and we never thought there’d be a Hong Konger hitchhiking in this place either." They gathered around me and started chattering. "If we saw someone who looked Chinese, we’d stop and give them a ride. Not seeing your face, I thought you were Black."
Since then, I stopped wearing the fly net when hitchhiking, afraid people would mistake me for Black.
The people and stories I encountered during hitchhiking are truly unforgettable. More importantly, when I faced difficulties, I couldn’t solve problems with money—I was forced to face and overcome them, which helped me grow throughout the journey.
Former journalist / Hitchhiking traveler / Long-distance hiker / Writer / Freelance photographer.
Hitchhiked over 10,000 kilometers, hiked over 5,000 kilometers, experiencing the world at the slowest pace.
Co-authored The Shepherd Boy: Looking Back at My City from Afar
FB: Restarting Life