Feb. 29, 2024, 12:31 p.m. - I have a dream. Such a beautiful dream it haunts me. There are nights where I can scarcely breathe for its presence, where I feel myself crushed by its weight. I will not stop till I see it before me. Destiny's finger beckons - who am I to refuse? (we are headed for Odense)
Feb. 29, 2024, 10:57 a.m. - There is a bitter taste in my mouth. We have received a lift from a seemingly impossible place but as such have condemned ThumbsUp to uncertainty and a possibly terrible fate. I'm happy to be still making progress, how could I not be; but it doesn't feel great if it's at the cost of my friends'. I'll buy you all a pint or 3 when we're there. Forgive me โค๏ธ
Feb. 29, 2024, 9:14 a.m. - In a thrilling turn of events, we've entangled ourselves with ThumbsUp4Copenhagen at a service station on the E45. For its position it ought to be bustling with traffic. I have seen graveyards with more life. We are deliberating options, but not without hope. Big fish please ๐
Feb. 29, 2024, 7:14 a.m. - Team 11 To summarise, almost career ending disaster, somehow resolved, now walking over the border to the motorway drum and bass in my face. BOOM BOOM BOOM
Feb. 29, 2024, 7:07 a.m. - Team 11 okay I'm sending this as a voice note because my hands are shaking too much to type, so we got arguably a terrible lift into into just a different part of Flensburg and when we got out the car we realised that Charlie didn't have his phone anymore, and somehow we remembered where the guy said. He worked walked 20 minutes to get there, but it's a government building so we ca't get in but luckily he saw us through the window and he came out and in fact the phone was in Charlie's car. We thought it might be. The phone was in the guys car with we thought it might be at the gas station, but but it was on the floor of his car now we're going to walk one hour down the road to a service station on the 7/E45. We're just gonna cross the border on foot. We thought we were done but it is clearly never over.
Feb. 29, 2024, 6:01 a.m. - Sleep was worse than expected which is slightly interesting considering I was expecting max an hour or two. The station was cold, the company was unsettling, the ambience weird if not almost hostile. But free, no financial power required. Awake now (have been for eternities) but barely conscious if that makes sense. Sat in a service station, weak and timid like newborns. One day to make it all happen. To make or break. I'm scared, I'm excited, I'm in need of the toilet, I'm off my face, I'm here, I'm ready. This is now between us and god. Strictly business. We move on.
Feb. 28, 2024, 10:25 p.m. - Team 11 ///belts.seaside.spotted When asked about what his job was/what he did for work simply said 'everything'. He told us when we were in the car that it would cost us โฌ100 (we did not oblige). Said he wanted our details so he could calllin a favour from us sometime (we told him 'no need, we'll see you again') and then in rebuttal he offered us his business card (but changed his mind ๐). A curious creature no doubt
Feb. 28, 2024, 10:05 p.m. - We've pounded through Germany since the afternoon in a sudden reversal of fortune. The Kaffeehouse in Flensburg is where I sit and sip as I type out this communication for the world to behold. The funky music playing is threatening to move even my most tired of bones. We'll be 1 and done though of course; a blitz of sleep in the station of trains and then onwards tomorrow. I don't dare to hope. And yet
Feb. 28, 2024, 8:48 p.m. - Our last driver has triplets, just throwing it out there.
Feb. 28, 2024, 8:20 p.m. - We like Schleswig Holstein. Although the petrol station was quiet, the ambience was light and breezy, the North Sea heals all it would seem. Hamburg Hafen was a sight to behold tonight and we received a full tourist briefing on the city. We fly towards the tip of Deutschland and into unknown territory. The glass is half full.
Feb. 28, 2024, 7:19 p.m. - That was a delicious Amuse Bouche - now for the main please
Feb. 28, 2024, 6:23 p.m. - We are tickling the tip of this guy's speedometer, zoom
Feb. 28, 2024, 6:12 p.m. - Team 11 Hamburg. From ruins to riches, nothing to hitches. Today has not been our day, but in the night everything changes. We drive bravely into the future
Feb. 28, 2024, 5:04 p.m. - My body has gone beyond fight or flight to an unidentifiable third stage. We got one lovely lift from Nicole who used to go to Edinburgh and played ultimate frisbee, and then ran into some trickster eldritch being cosplaying as human. I must admit I was taken aback when he stated he needed a gun to start a war. He also told us our parents needed to have more kids (as 2 are apparently not enough). I'm still not entirely sure what's going on but at least progress has been made and we are free to catch a more ordinary lift. Just 1 big fish is all we need. On a side note we ran into someone going all the way to Copenhagen but their car was full of 'stuff' apparently. The dream of Copenhagen lies behind every action I perform, beckoning me like some forgotten lover, an ancestral memory of paradise. Onwards
Feb. 28, 2024, 2:34 p.m. - ๐
Feb. 28, 2024, 12:39 p.m. - The world spins on its axis, one man drives while another relaxes. Alas, we are neither driving nor relaxing. Currywurst quenched our thirst but our devotion to motion is being tested. Lack of sleep brings forth the sheep of the mind and follows the rhyme. Salvation is at the north of the nation and heaven lies on the A7. So we've been told
Feb. 28, 2024, 10:57 a.m. - Chaz's response to our driver saying his grandma died and that's how he'd got his house was 'that's good'. I ate a caffeine gummy of supposedly virulent strength and still fell asleep in the car. But in the words of our driver, '**** **** **** it'- sheep are flocking to this place and we are feeling shepherdly, we will guide them North to glory
Feb. 28, 2024, 8:21 a.m. - We have struck ๐คบ We've caught a big fish, a carp to Hanover, hails from Poland. All it took was salacious whisperings and a disarming smile. We go forth
Feb. 28, 2024, 8:07 a.m. - Slept in a chair. The powers that be have thrust a bleak morning upon us; grey, cold and misty. Reality is not a place of comfort, no smile plays upon her lips - but the indomitable spirit of man lends itself to struggle. Such trifling matters cannot extinguish the hope we have or the love we share. Yes Chef embodies the fury of the kitchen and the patience of the chef. When we strike it is with the precision of a Damascus knife. And we will strike
Feb. 27, 2024, 10:35 p.m. - Our feet don't smell great to be honest. At least we're inside the service station not outside this time. Off to sleep
Feb. 27, 2024, 8:37 p.m. - In hitchhiking one oscillates between two absolutes - cars and McDonald's. One is of course much better for travelling distance than the other. Alas, McDonalds is our present location. It's a nice place, modern, clean, warm but the soul longs for something greater. A vehicle. A device of transportation. Movement
Feb. 27, 2024, 8:15 p.m. - Daddy's gone home to Eindhoven.
Feb. 27, 2024, 6:12 p.m. - Refreshed, refuelled, rejuvenated. A pit stop of simply epic proportions. And on the road again, but wait. The chair I am now sitting in is massaging me. I am not joking, I am getting a massage from a car's chair. The future is boundless, our appetite voracious - germany, wait for me my darling
Feb. 27, 2024, 4:15 p.m. - 2 words. Dutch tripod
Feb. 27, 2024, 3:32 p.m. - Im beginning to detect a subtle but present smell of Satan's greenery in this car; both our driver's hands are also currently on the phone as opposed to the steering wheel but he seems sound. Good music taste so further criticism would be harsh. I was more nervous yesterday when the border patrol searched our car, all the while our names weren't on the train ticket. Swings and roundabouts
Feb. 27, 2024, 2:51 p.m. - The Dutch are where it's at. On the way to Tillburg to meet the Dutch tripod who will drive us to Germany. Yip Yip
Feb. 27, 2024, 1:51 p.m. - Apparently I fell asleep in the car mouth open and everything - hard to believe I'd ever do something so lacking in grace but the accusations are relentless. Luckily I wasn't driving so we have still made it safe and sound to a gas station outside Brussels and as I type this we're negotiating for more, always more. Give it to us ๐ฉ๐ค
Feb. 27, 2024, 12:15 p.m. - Whisked away by a lovely Flemish painter. Heading towards Brussels. The canvas is painting itself.
Feb. 27, 2024, 11:07 a.m. - A morning of high highs, low lows, lots of no's - luckily it hasn't come to blows of any sort. Inching slowly but surely along the coast. Curious to see what fate has in store
Feb. 27, 2024, 7:05 a.m. - One bullet one kill. In a display of charm that would have made a rock blush, Chaz has beguiled the first person we spoke to into giving us a lift. It is a beautiful morning. I feel a kind of joy that simply cannot be transcribed into text form. The gentle pink of the clouds, the soft blue of the sky, the steady beat of my heart. Oh, what a thing, to be alive
Feb. 27, 2024, 6:37 a.m. - We are are now awake. We were right to be scared of the mainland. We were taken south of Calais last night to a 24 hour service station, and, in a turn of events which can only be described as Kafkaesque, grappled heavily with the concept of authority. The station was deemed closed seemingly at the whim of the authority figure there, a fierce Frenchman. We thank God (Race2 safety team) for their foresight in providing us with foil blankets, hand warmers and ponchos, and we thank each other for the flames of passion which kept us alive. Last night was the definition of a bivouac. Today will be fruitful.
Feb. 26, 2024, 10:40 p.m. - Let us not lie to one another - it is cold out here. Arrived at a service station in France, most likely planning to sleep and begin the attack again tomorrow. Cannot formulate more thoughts. Goodnight
Feb. 26, 2024, 8:39 p.m. - I don't even really want to type out this text in case my dreams are shattered - we are in a car Eurotunnel bound, have passed passport control, the possibility exists of arrival in France. It is an incomprehensible thought. I am expecting a man to come and pluck me out of the car any second now. If this doesn't work I will disintegrate on the spot, no hesitation. This is the turning point to define the trajectory of our remaining years on this earth. No big deal though. UK SIGNOFF
Feb. 26, 2024, 6:19 p.m. - We've encountered (Den)marks the spot. Currently debating whether it's worth wiring up Josh with a pipe bomb and holding him for ransom in exchange for a ferry ticket. The answer is of course yes but we don't have a pipe bomb (yet)
Feb. 26, 2024, 4:55 p.m. - I'd let an orangutan perform open heart surgery on me with a knife and fork if it meant getting a lift - suffice to say we have not left Maidstone
Feb. 26, 2024, 2:08 p.m. - Last 2 lifts from Gaz and Garry. Let's hope the next one is Gerry to take us on the ferry, or Scummel to the tunnel.
Feb. 26, 2024, 1:59 p.m. - The stage is set; there's a cheeky feeling in the air, almost sultry. If we have to show a bit of skin to get a ride so be it. Wait for us France, daddy is coming ๐น
Feb. 26, 2024, 1:25 p.m. - The south has edged us long enough - we're Maidstone bound. From there we're looking to catch a big fish, a two hander. simply delightful
Feb. 26, 2024, 9:54 a.m. - We've been ID'd by our prospective driver - a fascinating experience. He promises deliverance further south (slightly out of his way even), for which we are grateful. It would seem the early bird truly does get the worm (I was awake by 5)
Feb. 26, 2024, 8:47 a.m. - Steve summary - learnt German from a girl called monicarista(?), put his seatbelt on after we'd reached the motorway, has a 32ft boat, does fishing competitions, drove the Aston Martin db3 to the bond set, used the phone as much as the steering wheel, introduced us to rockabilly music.
Feb. 25, 2024, 11:22 p.m. - Currently committing the 8th deadly sin (socks off in a service station). Every 10 minutes a Peppa Pig announcement plays over the loudspeaker at a minimum 10 000 decibels, and I am yet to make out the words. I fear come the morning either I or peppa will remain - but not both. Sleep
Feb. 25, 2024, 9:57 p.m. - After a languorous stay at Skelton Lake services on the outskirts of Leeds, accompanied by Speedy Bones (enjoy your hotel room guys), we have climbed aboard a thundering electric steed piloted by a roller derby veteran. After skirting around Sheffield we hope to be dropped at Tibshelf services, taking Chaz dangerously close to home (Hathersage).
Fingers crossed ๐ค our journey into the night continues across space as well as time.
Feb. 25, 2024, 9:10 p.m. - It feels as though someone has removed our kneecaps in that we literally cannot move from this place, Skelton Lake services. There is of course no lake (to my knowledge). It's as though everyone coming here has forgotten about the concept of South and only remembers the other cardinal directions, alas. Unless we blow up the nearby petrol station and use the resulting force to propel ourselves further, we may be sleeping here for the night.
Feb. 25, 2024, 6:14 p.m. - Off to Doncaster. The sky is darkening, but the light in our heart's shines ever brighter. We also ate an orange each and halved a banana. Fantastic
Feb. 25, 2024, 4:21 p.m. - Charlie asked our driver Ryan if he had a favourite race. It would seem he's partial to some downhill enduro. Battling demons right now (trying not to have a second McDonald's)
Feb. 25, 2024, 3:08 p.m. - Not even 17 years of the most profound meditation deep in the heart of a Himalayan salt mine could have prepared me for the emotions I experienced as I watched another team pass us as we waited for a lift in Jedburgh (anger and insurmountable sadness). That said, I feel inner peace once again thanks to the man who is taking us in his van to near Newcastle. We march south
Feb. 25, 2024, 1:59 p.m. - The silver tongue strikes its first victim. The winds of fate (a lovely man named Chris) have blown us to Jedburgh (could be worse could be better) - overall feeling quite good but hoping to make some serious distance today
Feb. 25, 2024, 11:49 a.m. - The McDonalds hash brown seems to be the closest legal substitute to crack the UK currently has; my bones are vibrating. Currently hoping to get a lift out of Dalkeith
Feb. 25, 2024, 8:51 a.m. - Team 11 We are on the E1 Ember bus to Edinburgh! I do want to briefly apologise to the two teams also waiting for the bus who were unaware that you had to book it, for not telling them. It's not in our nature to be evil but I fear the hitchhike is already beginning to change us. Condolences ๐
Feb. 25, 2024, 8:22 a.m. - We've cast an arcane spell (booked free bus tickets to Edinburgh), and are now awaiting the results. It is looking to be a most glorious day
Feb. 25, 2024, 7:08 a.m. - It's 7:06am and part of me is regretting the gift of sentience - Yes Chef is ready
