Sure, we can give you a lift!

Why’s the bus service so bad?

Over a cup of tea, Malcolm heard the story from James Stockan, our councillor for Stromness and Hoy areas, while chatting about Touchwood’s mission of doing green living in a fun way. When Malcolm mentioned the latest one on hitchhiking, James said (I’m paraphrasing here):

“Know why the bus service is so poor? It’s because years ago, people used to stand waiting for the bus and invariably a fellow islander would stop to offer a lift, so no one was left for the bus to take.”

How about that. Giving a lift to someone used to be commonplace.

I like to imagine little old ladies standing at the bus stop waiting when another one comes along and offers her a lift. They chat on the side of the road, maybe one offers a helping hand into the car and away they go.

Giving a lift to someone is a chance to catch up on news, perhaps even to make a new acquaintance. You never know who you might run into.

Just think who you might meet, giving a lift

We could do with more getting to know each other too

Even here, we could do with getting to know each other better. There are 16,000 of us or so on the Mainland (Orkney’s main island) and while I’m sure there are many who know quite a few people, we don’t actually all know each other. What’s more, I also know a lot of people who moved away because they didn’t feel connected to the community, like they were part of things.

Something like half the population isn’t from Orkney originally, so that’s a lot of people moving in and trying to get to know their neighbours and where things are.

How much nicer would it be if you just moved in, walked down the road, stuck your thumb out and struck up a conversation with someone you’d never met; you got the insider tip on the best butcher, where to get a kitchen table cheaply, and where to find the tastiest espresso?

Think that might make you feel more welcome? More a part of the community?

It could work in big communities, too

Now I imagine doing this in larger communities, cities even. Think of the opportunities for increasing community spirit, a sense of connectedness to one’s neighbours.

One thing stopping people is fear. Maybe another is just not thinking about it.

It’s important to show it can be done, safely and enjoyably, and that’s why I’d like to see it work here on Orkney. We’re ridiculously safe here and we’ve already got a bit of a tradition of it — now it’s time to reintroduce it!

What needs to happen to make it work

As for fear, the perception of risk is disproportionate to the reality. Nevertheless, Malcolm is working on fail-safe measure to ensure modern carsharing is safe (more on that in future posts).

James says he used to always stop for someone, but the reason he doesn’t stop anymore is because there are a lot more cars on the road now and with few laybys, he’d be holding people up if he stopped.

We could largely deal with that problem by doing a bit of awareness-raising on the radio and in the paper to remind people of this tradition and encourage them to at least be patient when someone in front of you stops for 30 seconds to offer a lift.

Or we could even invest in a couple of laybys in the busiest areas, like heading out of Kirkwall and Stromness.

The point is, I guess I’d been thinking of this hitchhiking thing as a kind of new-fangled thing, and here it turns out (like just about every other green idea) people were doing this long before my generation popped up. Nice to know, really.

Less stuff is more fun, more happiness, more time and more money. It’s getting rid of the crap that’s cluttering up our brains and house and racking up debt and environmental damage so we have the time and money to do what we like doing.

Today I came across a wonderful poster that can inspire us visually too:

Sums up the "Less is more" philosophy beautifully

As the artist Nick Dewar explains : “I hope that America is entering a post-’greed is good’ period. I can’t think of a single step that would change the nature of our society more than everyone abandoning their automobiles and cycling instead.”

This poster is part of a series which are inspired by Depression Era propaganda posters in America whose  “colorful vibrancy and comic wit contributed to the sense of optimism they were meant to inspire.” All five posters, courtesy of ReadyMade.com, can be downloaded as pdfs and printed out.

I’ll be hanging this one on our wall today.

Bring on the circus bikes!

Going car-free in a rural location

Unlike when I lived in Washington DC you didn’t really need a car, not having one on Orkney is highly unusual. Pretty much everyone drives.

There are practical reasons for this: we have sporadic public transport, much of our housing is spread far and wide, and our weather can put even the hardiest person to the test.

But this isn’t the whole story.

Car = freedom

Having a car is also an emotional thing, a sign of independence. It’s even a little bit wrapped up in who we think we are.

For me, our car represents our dream of moving to Orkney and starting our own business. We bought our trusty Fiat Doblo 4 years ago in Perth when we decided to relocate to this island and start a new life.

Malcolm and our new car, moving to Orkney in 2004

Malcolm’s used it since then to run his tours with Five Senses, connecting visitors to Orkney in a new way. We’ve met so many good people through this and we’ve relied on the money it’s provided.

Car = home

I think it’s also been a security blanket, this idea that even if we didn’t have a house, we could always throw our stuff in the car and have a place to call home.

So giving up the car is saying goodbye to a lot of things, a lifestyle and identity that we’ve had for four years. It’s changing Five Senses as a business, dropping the car tours and either doing more of the bushcraft and outdoor skills, or well, who knows?

Finally, ditching the car is also a practical challenge, because what we’ve decided to replace our car with, at least for now, are bicycles.

Bicycles, really?

I’m not a big fan of bicycling culture. That whole spandex, toe clips and space age helmets thing puts me off.

Then there’s the wind. In the summer, we average around 15mph wind most of the time. In the winter, it can easily go up to 40-50mph, with a nice lashing of rain.

Since we’re briskly heading into winter, I can look forward to a 9am sunrise and 3:30pm sunset in January.

Huffing and puffing

Lastly, I’m totally out of shape. It’s a good day when I take a gentle walk on the beach for 15 minutes, so cycling for a few hours into Kirkwall…hm.

I need to exercise more, but I know myself. If I have the lazy alternative, I’ll take it. So while it’s nice to think I’d go on more walks and bike rides with proper motivation, the reality is I’m not doing that if I can drive instead.

I’m just going to have to give it a go and hope for the best.

Why this? Why now?

After all this moaning about how hard it’s going to be, you may be wondering why we’re bothering. Two big reasons: Age of Stupid and Office Space.

Age of Stupid basically asks us the question from 50 years in the future when the planet is ruined: Why didn’t we do enough about climate change?

The Age of Stupid USA Trailer from Age of Stupid on Vimeo.

Malcolm and I watched the film a few weeks ago and even though we’d seen films like An Inconvenient Truth, it was this one that tipped the balance and we both said “Enough already! Let’s do this.”

So we’re going on an experiment to reduce our carbon footprint to one tonne between the both of us, from 22 tonnes the average British couple consumes now.

We’ll be writing much more on this subject as part of our work with 10:10 — a movement that asks us to commit to reducing our carbon footprint by 10% in 2010. I hope to see you there.

Humans weren’t meant to be in cubicles

The other reason is best summed up by Office Space, which I often quote, where our hero works a meaningless, soul-destroying job in an office writing code for a big, meaningless corporation. Here’s one of my favourite scenes where Peter, the hero, explains to his work colleague what he’s realised about their crappy jobs:
[kaltura-widget wid="vy84pda9ip" width="410" height="364" addpermission="3" editpermission="3" /]
I remember those days all too clearly, and I never, never want to have to go back to that again.

With our still doing Touchwood Project as volunteers, we have to either reduce our spending or make more money. Until we can get sufficient funding, the only viable income options for us here are jobs like working for the Council or one of the grocery stores.

Selling the car is far preferable to either of those options for me, and it will give us living expenses for another few months, by which time we’ll hopefully have gotten our funding.

Other car-free options

Hitchhiking and car sharing are two alternatives we’d like to develop further. We’ve written a bit about this already, and will be doing much more in the coming months.

A third option I’m pretty excited about are electric scooters.

Xero's eScooter Classic

Ooo, prrrretty.

There are several models newly on the market, but I’m all about fun design, so I prefer a retro-styled model. Xero’s eScooter Classic gets from 50 miles in a single charge, goes up to 30 mph, and is reasonably priced at £1500 ($2500).

This option is well worth a fuller post on its own, so I’ll write that one soon. However, since one of the main reasons we’re selling the car is to save money, forking over £1700 or so for the scooter and gear isn’t what we want to do just yet.

As I wrote in an earlier post, I love the idea of quadricycles but at a whopping €3450/£3000, they’re even more expensive than a scooter, so it’s just going to have to wait.

It’s gotta be stylish and fun

Nope, if I’m going to do bicycling, it’s going to be fun and it’s going to be stylish. Happily, there’s a whole movement here, best seen in the Tweed Runs, cycling events where everyone dresses in my favourite fabric, tweed!

There’s just so much to talk about but I think I’ve run on long enough for now.

Malcolm’s just left the house to hitchhike and walk the 5 miles into Stromness to do our shopping. It’s cold, raining, but he left in high spirits — just about bounced out the door — because he sees it as an adventure, a chance to meet people and do a little, humble planet-saving. Me too.

Meet the quadricycle

Our quest to have fun, be playful and enjoy living green has started to move in another direction lately: getting rid of the car. Given that it’s 11 miles from our house to Kirkwall and the nearest bus stop is 2 miles away, walking or conventional cycling leaves me feeling apprehensive (the wind! the cold! I’m so not that fit!).

So if I’m going to give up something as freedom-giving and effort-saving as a car, it had better be for something good. Now one possibility we wrote about the other day is hitchhiking. I think this has enormous potential for our island in particular, but what if you don’t want to hitch?

Enter the wildly impractical quadricycle — a bike for 2 on 4 wheels.

I’ll tell you why I’m drawn to this kooky idea: I can’t stop laughing about it. The image of the two of us pedaling our way round the island, with some ridiculous flag on the back or triangle sign like the Amish put on their horse and buggy carriages, makes me smile.

I like to imagine the idea catching on, a whole island full of families do their weekly shopping in the four-passenger:

Quadricycle for 4 people, 2 children

Or couples out for a romantic drive to the Standing Stones, or friends carpooling to see a film in town. Imagine pulling up to your friend’s house to pick her up in one of these. Hilarious.

Perhaps you’d prefer the striped version?

Surrey with the fringe on top

Enter the practical challenges

Alas, there are a few problems with the concept. For one, there are no UK-distributors or manufacturers of quadracycles that I can find. Malcolm and I spent hours last night Googling to no avail. The models above are American, as are the other versions we found like Mobilette and Rhoades Car.

Mobilette's "Tornado", which also appeals

Hm, not very comfortable

More worryingly, these models are all meant to be used at leisure resorts, going maybe a few miles at a slow pace. My favourite design, Quadricycle International’s one at the beginning that looks like the a VW Beetle, has a speed limit of five miles an hour. I might as well walk.

And none of them are adjustable seating, so Malcolm’s 6′ 2″ and my 5′ 8″ would be using the same frame. That’s not going to work if we’re going to cycle 22 miles in one day.

OK, comfortable but so…boring

So if we want a quad that’s going to be remotely practical, we’d have to spring for this:

ZEM's quadricycle seems a bit industrial

Zero Emission Machine is the only European quadricycle manufacturer we could find. They’re Swiss, and their quads are comfortable, adjustable, reasonably fast — and horribly pricey at €3450 (£3000 or $5150). They also look too much like bicycles to me.

The red is kinda cool, but where’s the canopy? Where’s the playfulness?

The other practical alternative is Montana-based Lightfoot Cycles, whose helpful comparison of their quad with all the other major manufacturers first brought the practical problems to my attention:

Lightfoot's Microcar

Again, it just looks like 2 mountain bikes strung together. Where’s the laugh factor?

So, I’m not sure where this leads. Malcolm thinks perhaps we could get someone over here in the UK to make one or modify it. The Lightfoot has the added advantage of being able to carry an electric motor, something that appeals as it’d help me get up our admittedly pretty tiny hills.

A new way to tour Orkney?

The other application I love for the idea of quadricycles is touring Orkney. Malcolm’s been taking people around Orkney in our 7-seater Doblo, and most people drive cars to see Skara Brae and the other big tourist sites.

While there’s some bus services, they don’t go everywhere and so many people prefer the control you have with your own vehicle. Wouldn’t it be great to see some of the more adventurous ones tooling around in a quad instead? They could stop and visit with each other when they pass on the road.

Surrey Company's "Limousine" just right for families

An island full of quadricycles would certainly be a talking point and perhaps even a tourist attraction in its own right. Add electric-powered batteries assisted by wind or wave power, and you’ve got something truly exciting.

Hitchhiking is something I associate with grubby guys, desperate backpackers, and the occasional kidnapping or worse. I have some notion that it’s even illegal in some countries.

So suffice it to say that when Malcolm approached me with the idea of hitchhiking I was skeptical — I believe my response was “No way in hell.”

Malcolm's thumb, ready for a lift

However, I’m rethinking my staunch opposition and am coming around to believing that in fact, done right, hitchhiking could be a wonderfully effective way to meet local people, improve ties in a community, save money and help the planet too.

Not a bad haul for sticking your thumb out.

Our effervescent lorry driver who gave us a lift

No longer a hitchhiking virgin

So I finally tried hitchhiking with Malcolm when we were in Ireland a few weeks ago and it was great. I had fun!

A lorry (rig/18-wheeler) driver picked us up, rucksacks and all, and spent the next 15 minutes to the town we were heading to regaling us with tales. Here’s our benefactor on the right.

Let me tell you, I felt more connected to Ireland in that moment, more of an experiencer (I’ll just make up that word) of the place than an observer or tourist, than I did at any other time. I was meeting and talking with someone who lives and works there, who sees the country all the time and has plenty of observations to share.

Malcolm calls his approach to hitchhiking 5 star hitchhiking because it’s about choosing it for the benefits it brings you and others. I’ll let him enumerate on those in later posts, but for now, let me share the true story Malcolm wrote about one experience he had hitching and you can judge for yourself.

Edinburgh to London fast and free

Years ago I was in Edinburgh with a girlfriend. She was leaving the city on a coach for London and I was devastated when I couldn’t book a seat on the coach too. I waved her off with a tear in my eye. With no desire to do anything on my own I was lost and restless. Nor did I have money to overcome the loneliness. I felt crap.

I opted to get “out of there” and decided to hitch “anywhere”. So I walked to the local bus stop and got on a bus going west, out of town, towards the ring road, past Corstorphine and the Zoo. Then I sulkily put out my thumb and trusted to whatever showed up.

I got a lift, towards Glasgow. Then another lift onto the A74 southbound, still unsure of what I was doing or where I was going. I dunno, maybe home to North Wales or maybe the mountains of the Lake District?

Well, my next lift took me into England quickly and it started to dawn on me that this was the same route my girlfriend’s coach would be taking, down the M6, to London. I started to look out for a National Express coach. My driver was in a hurry, doing well over 100 mph, at times I worried we would not survive.

Anyhow, to keep the story short, I got it into my head to chase the coach, and I started to calculate relative speeds, and the head start the coach had on me. It seemed worth trying and my lifts were taking me that way. But no sign of any express coach.

It was going great until I reached the Luton area, north of London on the M1. I was dropped off at a service station, just as light was fading. After the toilets I got a quick coffee and a pen, then wrote a sign saying LONDON, then I walked out past the petrol station to the exit road onto the motorway.

My heart sank. There was a long line of hitchers, at least a dozen, scattered out along the grass verge. And not your smart looking hitchers either. It looked like the photo line up for the police station, and they were all ahead of me. So close but it seemed my hopes were dashed, the chase was lost. I stood and watched. Hardly any cars were passing, maybe one a minute max. None were stopping. Everyone looked miserable and territorial. I was just one more nuisance. I kept out of the way.

A truck stopped, one guy jumped up and went. The queue shuffled a bit. 10 minutes and nothing. It was starting to drizzle and was getting dark, making us all look like shifty shadows. Criminals one and all. A car stopped mid way along the queue and took a very thankful hitcher away. No one moved. So I filled the gap and sat down, depressed.

I paid no attention to the cars as I had to wait for all these others to go first, so I just inked in my sign a bit better, preparing for the dark of night. It was going to be a long night and I had nowhere to go. I had nothing better to do, so I just kept writing LONDON over and over, darker and darker, straightening the lines of the letters, doodling. Then I wrote “please” beneath it, reflecting my sense of desperation.

The sign that made all the difference

I was cold, nothing was happening. Some hitchers drifted off, and the 10 or so of us remaining strung out as if to get as far from each other as possible. I noticed all were trying to get lifts, the queue didn’t exist, it was a fashion contest or a parade of rough and grimy folks. One guy was on crutches, poor bloke. Another scared me, so I looked away. We all hitched, like fish trying to get hooked.

A car drove past me – a nice car, a Jaguar – and stopped further down the line. A guy jumped to the door and spoke to the driver then looked up and shouted at me. I didn’t understand. He shouted again, loud! He beckoned me with his arm. I picked up my bag (I was not letting that out of my sight) and walked up. “He wants you” said the hitcher.

I was in the Jaguar, purring down the motorway, next stop London. 12 cylinders hummed. The seats squeaked and smelt of real leather. The clock ticked silently. It was dark outside and the road was empty, as we accelerated well beyond legal limits again. We felt above the law, wrapped in such wealth. The driver, dressed in a smart suit, didn’t say much, other than this:

“I have never given a lift to anyone before – and I never expect to do so again – but you had the courtesy to say ‘please’, so I wanted to help you”.

Well, I told him why I was heading into London, chasing my girlfriend, the journey from Edinburgh, the coach fully booked. He drove me to Paddington station, gave me the money for the Tube (underground) and cruised off. I caught a train to Victoria coach station, arriving 20 minutes after the coaches arrival time. Can you believe it? After all that. All alone at a coach station again.

I was walking out of the station when in came a coach, the delayed Edinburgh coach! I hid behind a pillar, almost too weak to stand. The passengers all got off – and there she was!

I had beaten her to London, faster than the Express (non-stop) coach. You should have seen her face! We hugged.

This story is true. I print it here to be inspirational and informative.