Last updated 13:05, Thursday, 25 September 2008

How did you get to work today? Walk? Bus? Bike? Horse? Chances are, it would have been by car.

Mark Green tries to hitch a lift

I normally drive to work, except for yesterday.

Yesterday I walked, hitched, tried my powers of persuasion on some donkeys (more later) and caught a train.

Yesterday was Car Free Day, a global event that was first organised in Britain by the Environmental Transport Association (ETA).

Thousands of motorists in more than 20 British towns and cities were expected to leave their cars at home in favour of bicycles, trains and buses.

My boss volunteered me to do the same.

My boss, who lives in Carlisle and pootles around on a bike, said: “It’ll do you good.”

I live out in a village where we break out the flags if a bus ever trundles through our lanes.

‘Car free day’ meant getting into work without the use of a car – so that left bike, bus, train and Shanks’s pony.

We’re six or seven miles from Wigton, which has good bus and train services to Carlisle and out west to Workington, Whitehaven and beyond.

Cycling the 17 miles from Ireby into work wasn’t an option.

Even if there wasn’t three years of hedge growing through the spokes, brambles tangling through the gears, half a bird’s nest in the split seat and frayed brake wires, I’d die of a heart attack struggling to pedal over Caldbeck Fell, or end up as roadkill on the racetrack locally known as the A595.

Anyway, I didn’t want to risk ‘helmet hair’....

The only direct bus to Carlisle left at 7.53am from Mealsgate on the A595 and there was no way I was going to make that without use of a car.

The next bus was 10am and I couldn’t wait for that.

My plan was to walk to the main road, then hitch a lift to Wigton where I could either bus or train the rest of the way to Carlisle.

Luckily, it wasn’t raining, so the first few miles were actually quite enjoyable if you’re stuck in an air-free office most days.

I got to listen to blackbirds and robins, saw heifers nuzzling calves and rabbits bobbing over dewy fields.

When I came to the trunk road I blinked in amazement at the speed and frequency of the traffic.

It’s all a lot faster when you’re stood on the verge.

And not a little worrying when there isn’t a proper footpath to provide a little security and comfort.

I stuck up my thumb and trudged onwards.

We love our cars, little sealed units of privacy, insulated from the outside world. We like them best when we’re on our own, with no one to complain about the radio or the heating or nose-picking.

I’ll be generous and say only one in eight of the cars, vans and trucks that thundered within millimetres of my right ear had more than one person sitting in them.

And this was during ‘school run’.

After about an hour of failed hitching, my usual Monday morning pep had pooped and I stopped to have a chat with some donkeys.

I felt dejected, neglected and rejected. I don’t think I looked like some mad axe monster or someone who made spaceships from empty tins of Spam.

I was wearing a suit and a shirt and clean shoes.

I had a brief idle thought that I might be able to borrow a donkey, but then realised that persuading it to move, let alone cope with the A595 traffic, would be beyond my jockeying skills.

I turned off the A595 and headed for Wigton – almost getting clipped twice by ‘white van man’ drivers.

Cheers lads.

I could have caught a bus in to Carlisle.

Three passed me, all with just a handful of people aboard, all the people had grey hair and free passes.

I decided to catch the train. It has been ages since I last commuted by rail. I actually used to enjoy it and preferred it to motorway driving.

I was early, the trains were every hour or so and the station was predictably deserted.

Apart from the half-filled bin bags, it didn’t look as though it had been used since the war.

The only signs of recent life were a yellow timetable and an old ignored advert for senior railcard savings.

The bike shed was empty, unkept grass spilled into tangled bushes and wild-sprouting trees.

An old dear with a stick and a hopeful look appeared on the Whitehaven and Barrow platform opposite then a man with a fluorescent orange jacket, blue clipboard and a slightly confused expression appeared, peered up and down the platform and scribbled.

Marion Blakeman appeared and stood in the plexiglass shelter next to me.

“It’s a one-off,” she admitted.

“I have an appointment in Carlisle, I don’t know how long it will take and I thought it would be more cost-effective by train.

“But I’ll have to get used to it as I’m taking my car off the road at the end of the month.

“I can’t afford the petrol and the road tax.

“I have used the train service before and have been happy enough with it.”

The 39-year-old mum-of-two lives close to the town centre, so transport shouldn’t be too much of a problem for her.

It’s different for her 11-year-old son however.

“He’s not happy about getting rid of the car and not having it available to run him around.”

The single carriage train arrived on time.

It was warm, clean and busy and we arrived in Carlisle on time.

The ticket cost £3.40 single, £3.70 return, compared to bus tickets costing £5.17 for a single and £9.50 fir a return from Mealsgate to Carlisle.

We seem to have lost the will or the desire to use public transport – unless it is free.

The bus or the train is a last resort, rather than a first choice.

We would much rather sit in traffic jams, battle against temporary diversions and one way systems and struggle to find a parking space than depend on a timetable and risk sitting next to a stranger.

It’s a shame so many of us feel the need to use our cars.

It’s terrible that we feel so strongly about not sharing them with anyone else, even if the other person is travelling in the same direction or even to the same place.

Maybe we should all go back to the donkey...