Dickie, now known as Knuckles, was the first traveler who Michael Joseph photographed for his "Lost and Found" series. Joseph noticed Knuckles, he said, because "he had an interesting anchor tattoo on his face and a very distinct look about him for a hitchhiker." The two first met in Las Vegas in 2011, and by chance they crossed paths three years later in Chicago.
Almost two years ago, the photographer Won Kim was back-packing across Japan and passed through Arakawa-ku, a ward in northeastern Tokyo. There he ran into a tiny hotel which was set in one of the larger buildings that lined the street, with no signboards to guide you there, it was almost hidden away. Kim immediately fell in love with the unusual vibes of the establishment, which was like a home to people from all over the world, unlike the typical homogenous societies in Japan – he was determined to revisit this space.
South African based documentary photographer Corinna Kern finds inspiration in those who live on the fringes of society. By getting to know different kinds of people and immersing herself in their lives, she’s able to engage with the world in a special way. For her long-term project, A Place Called Home, Kern became part of the London squatting community for several months. Through her images, she explores the idea that home is more of a feeling than a physical space.
Shengsi, an archipelago of almost 400 islands at the mouth of China’s Yangtze river, holds a secret shrouded in time – an abandoned fishing village being reclaimed by nature. These photos by Tang Yuhong, a creative photographer based in Nanning, take us into this lost village on Goqui island.
Check out this beautiful documentary entitled COBRA GYPSIES directed by Raphael Treza. Up until watching this film, I never knew that the Romani still existed in India. This film is created in a way that the subjects do not seem to be exploited for a story, but are actually given a chance to have their voices heard…Enough of me talking, peep the COBRA GYPSIES documentary below.
The economic recession can be most witnessed in Leeds, Yorkshire where many young people share a single bedroom between up-to-ten people and a few dogs. Born from harsh job market and financial strain, the deeply-rooted punk community began crafting homes for themselves in the city’s abandoned buildings, often scavenging supermarket dumpsters after hours to put food in their stomachs.
Eric St. Pierre may not have been an obvious candidate for the hobo life. Growing up in Windsor, Ont., he spent every waking minute outside of high school online, playing World of Warcraft or scrolling through message boards. Then he came across an Internet forum thread about vagabonds. Intrigued, he clicked through and found Squat the Planet, an online community filled with tips on how to safely train hop, hitch rides or sleep outdoors. His old dream of travelling across Canada came roaring back.
The city of Manchester can ignore its residents, but thanks to Wanksy, it can’t ignore the one-eyed monster. Like many cities, Manchester, England, is plagued with potholes. One half-mile stretch of road can have as many as 70 holes. After claiming he saw his friends injured in pothole-related bike accidents, one anonymous resident has taken matters into his own hands.
Yesterday two friends of East Jesus stopped by to visit. As they pulled up, I noticed they had some kind of strange device attached to the top of their car. It turned out to be what they called a Rail Rider, basically a self-built go kart specially designed to run on abandoned railroad tracks. I've seen a few of these vehicles online, but they were all pedal powered. This one was powered by a Honda motor, and boasted speeds of up to 30 mph.
If you’ve followed my blog for any amount of time you’ve probably picked up on the fact that my family is not rich. (Not monetarily, anyways.) We’re not even in the “middle class” category, financially speaking. To put it simply, we’re flat broke. Don’t get me wrong. God has been so good to us. We always have enough to get us by. But most months, it’sjust enough. Which is all we really need, but it can make homesteading projects tricky to afford.
They’re trading their flip phones for iPhones, starting Instagram accounts, browsing r/vagabond, and bringing an age-old tradition of trainhopping and tramping into the Information Age. Take traveling photographer Molly Steele, who was recently part of a group of hobos taken into custody onboard a freight train near El Dorado, Kansas.
Jeff Hill is pretty much the definition of DIY. He taught himself art, photography, surfing (almost) and now van reconstruction. From the East Coast, when he was living on the West Coast he decided to live in his van while converting it into a living space. But you can imagine how fun it is to live in a construction site. So he moved out, “finished” the van and moved back in. He’s back on the West Coast and just beginning his life-on-wheels. We caught up with him to see how the transition went and where he’s headed now.
They call her Runaway. Sleeping on the hardwood floor of an abandoned house alongside 10 others for a week, she found a temporary home. She met a group of fellow travelers in downtown Gainesville whom she stayed with in a squat house they knew about through word of mouth. “I hit the road to find myself,” said Amy “Runaway” Gates, an 18-year-old self- proclaimed “dirty kid” from Houston who hitchhiked for about a month before arriving to Gainesville in mid-January.
A fellow traveler once told me that "The Road provides." What he meant by this is that when you're traveling (on the road), positive things happen when you least expect them to. I've found this to be true time and time again. It's especially apparent during low points in travel when things magically works out. The Road
Toronto Blue Jays pitcher Daniel Norris was paid a $2 million signing bonus. He promptly used that money to buy a 1978 Volkswagen Westfalia microbus…that he lives in. That’s right, it’s not part of his automotive collection. A good part of the year it’s his home. This talented pitcher, who made his Major League debut in September 2014, would rather rough it than live the easy life in a place with four walls, a shower and a toilet.
I was sitting on the side of a mountain — actually more of a volcano — in the western highlands of Guatemala, pointing a camera at stuff and climbing when a foreigner came into sight. Traveling with a troupe of Kaqchikel pilgrims, but sporting a shockingly white shaved head, backpack and cargo pants, he definitely stood out. I must have too because he walked over and introduced himself.
I had to share with you this amazing box truck conversion home that was hand built by Joseph Tayyar who was tired of the hustle and bustle of the city life. He had the idea in his head four years prior to making it a reality. He spent years planning and building it and did it all himself. Now he gets to enjoy living near the beach, traveling to the desert or even enjoying the city.
Some people might not agree with having dogs on train but let’s face it, it going to happen. Dogs are well suited to railroad lifestyle and make great traveling companions. If you train your dog well, love them, and feed them good then your dog will follow you off of a cliff if you jumped. They are loyal and loving companions. When the road gets lonely and cold, they will cuddle you and keep you warm. When somebody sneaks up on your camp at night, your dog will warn you. When walking through a sketchy neighborhood you don’t know, your dog will, a lot of times, ward off people who may be looking to harm you. Some people may not agree with some of the techniques below, but that is how I have raised my own cur and have helped with the training of a few other railroad pups out there.
The heavy metal cowboy get-ups sported by Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider and Mel Gibson in Mad Max are probably considered more than a little passé in the world of men’s style, better left in the 1970s. But in Sub-Saharan Africa, the art of dressing like you’ve just stepped out of a Metallica concert is still very much alive.
In June, I graduated from high school. I worked my ass off to get there and it was fucking awesome to be done with it. The problem was that I had no idea what the fuck to do after I was done. I thought about traveling but ultimately decided to work and save up some money first. Around the same time my mom started preparing to move out of the house I had grown up in and move out to the sticks.
Welcome to Alex Honnold's home sweet home, parked in American Fork, Utah. We caught up with the climber for an inside look at his deluxe camper-van setup, complete with all the gear you could ever want to free solo Half Dome—or to go on a slightly less adrenaline-filled adventure.
Yesterday, the only actual squat in Vienna, the notorious Pizzeria Anarchia was evicted. It took 1,700 policemen, 12 hours, one tank and a water cannon to get 31 squatters to move their shit. Pizzeria Anarchia might be no more, but the story of its downfall is an embarrassment to local police and an example of shameless realtors' tactics winning over the little man.
When Ted Conover train-hopped with his son, he found things had changed since he was 22. "The prospect of Asa getting injured had been haunting me the whole trip." It felt like finally teaching my son to hunt. But instead of wilderness, our game preserve was the industrial zones northwest of downtown Denver. And instead of the ducks my grandpa used to shoot in Minnesota, our quarry was freight trains.
Hello everyone, welcome to Squat the Planet's guide to riding freight trains. This guide is intended to teach you about the harsh realities and techniques involved in catching a free ride via the world's locomotive transit system. I personally prefer 'education over abstinence' when it comes to these kinds of things, so it's my intention to teach you the basics of traveling via the rail system while staying safe and not ruining it for everyone else.
Despite having heard countless stories and read many books about often wonderful squatting scenes in Europe and elsewhere, the majority of squatted buildings I've lived at in the United States have been hideouts. Only a few have been overt campaigns that were welcomed by the community. The rest of the time it's mostly just been a bunch of punks trying to find shelter somewhere they won't get harassed by cops. So when I was invited to the Church of Carl Sagan, I was excited to see another real life example of anarchist philosophy along the lines of what I'd heard of and read about in other countries.
A friend of mine in the Oakland area took me to a place I call the ‘graffiti gallery’ the other day, so I made sure to bring along my camera and see what I could capture. What came out of it was a pretty neat photo set of people in our crew working on various pieces, and you can see what a neat hidden treasure this place is, especially when the sunlight is filtering in through the cracks, as you’ll see in the pics below.
Last week I rode my first train in over a year (and almost four years before that previous one). It’s not something I do very much anymore, but it was a convenient way to get down the west coast to Oakland, where I hope to be working on some interesting projects for StP in the near future. Well, it turned out not to be all that convenient really, as we got rained out nearly every day we waited for a train in the northwest, and even managed to get a 48-hour flu in the process, but we did eventually make it out by hopping a train out of Eugene.
In early April of 2013, a group of us got together to sail the SV Rocksteady to Fort Jefferson. This old civil war fort turned national park is located on the Dry Tortugas, a series of islands located 70 miles west of Key West, Florida.
A friend of mine sent this photo set to me by a photographer named Cameron Browne, who was doing a series on people getting rides via Craigslist's ride share board. I thought there were some pretty cool stylized shots of some interesting people so I figured I would share it here.
The following is an article from the German Magazine NEON. I translated it with the help of Google translate, so it’s a bit rough around the edges, but I think it still conveys the story pretty well. It features many of the friends I was living with in Key West, some of which you may recognize from my blog posts about the Liquid Courage, and my recent trip to the Dry Tortugas.
I'm currently taking a little break from traveling and visiting family up here in Washington state, so I thought I'd take a minute to review the past year of my life and all the destinations in between.
I’ve been playing with instagram a lot in my spare time since coming to Key West, so I thought it would be fun to put together a collection of the photos I’ve taken in order to give you a view of this place through the lens of instagram filters. Some look like postcards, others are just funny, but most capture what an awesome place Key West turned out to be.
A few days ago I went exploring around the Salton Sea area with my friends Shannon and Drew, and we had a killer day just driving around and seeing what there was to see surrounding Slab City. Check out the photo essay below for some of the neat pictures I took with my cell phone of places like Obsidian Butte, the Salton Sea, and (best of all) the Glamis Sand Dunes (which looks a lot like the Sahara Desert!). Also, check out the cute video below the pictures of Drew rolling down a sand dune while his puppy chases him.
My friend Sydney picked me up in Gary, Indiana on our way down to Plan-it-x fest, and just before leaving the city, I decided to go find the old abandoned City Methodist Church which turned out to only be a few blocks away. We spent about an hour exploring the place, and I took a lot of good pictures along the way.
East Jesus lies on the outer edge of Slab City, which itself is a squatter town near Niland, a town in the Salton sea region of southern California. Started by Charles Russell in 2006 as an artist retreat, it’s a place for those that want to escape the world for a while, create amazing art in the desert, and live in a place where they're free to do and act as they please.
Summer, 1998. You could hear the mechanical rattle from miles away. Soccer moms in minivans turned to look at us in horror as black smoke plumed out of the rear of my car. I had the gas pedal to the floor, yet we were barely creeping along at 50 mph while white smoke seeped through the seams of hood. Suddenly, we more felt than heard the loud bang as something large, metallic, and definitely essential to our journey came tumbling out of the engine compartment and down the road behind us. Eric looked at me from the passenger seat, through the smoke slowly filling the inside of the car, and said from the passenger seat, “I don't think we're going to make it, dude.” My only response was to crank up the radio and start laughing maniacally. Joined by Eric and his girlfriend in the back seat, we hooted and hollered into the face of our current disaster. That we wouldn't make it very far was obvious. What was surprising was how much fun it was. A few days earlier I had left my...
One of the less well-known spots near Slab City is an area about seven miles southeast, called the Mud Pots. The mud pots are bubbling pools of mud that are the result of geothermal areas with a shortage of water. They also form something called gryphons, small mud volcanoes about 6-7 feet high. Located at the corner of Davis and W Schrimpf road, it’s a fun place to go spend the day getting dirty as hell. Most everyone that visits comes back with a decent coat of grey mud all over their bodies, since the grey mud usually isn’t too hot to play around in, but damn, it’s a pain to wash off.