I’ve been fortunate enough to spend a huge part of my life having numerous adventures and travels with my bike, or perhaps fortunate is the wrong word; it’s been more a case of making these things happen, one way or another. All while those dismissive voices of the night told me not to, or to at least be sensible about it, and that’s not even touching on the real-life dismissive chants.
Defying those inner doubts, which I’m sure the majority of us have at times (whether we recognise and adhere to them is a different matter), and societal pressure is a tough task, perhaps even more so in this age of bombardment from the echo chambers of doubt that is social media.
It’s all too easy to take the comfy and safe road through life, the trail all way marked and sensibly potted, and fair enough, that works for some. I’m not in any way saying that I haven’t been lured into following that same submissive path at times, but I deeply regret it most of the time. The older I get, the more viable reasons not to take on those great bike adventures I’ve had in mind for many years seem to come a-knockin’. Many of these adventures have now slowly drifted out of the realms of true feasibility, and I have to slap and shake myself for allowing that to happen.
For the longest time, I lived on the route of a great and semi-popular overland bike route. Every year, I’d see adventurous folk on bikes taking on this journey, often people on cheap bikes with makeshift bags. Oh, how I wished it could be me, which, of course, it could have been. But it never quite was; the price paid for not following my own gut feelings and listening to the noise. Over time, those doors of opportunity shuttered, but I dare say some could be at least partly reopened.
The many great bike adventures I did over the years were rarely overplanned or overthought, and rarely had rigid schedules, which worked for me. Over the years, I’ve also come across countless riders taking on these well-trodden, mapped and apped routes, willingly forcing themselves into unrealistic daily schedules. I can’t help but think they’re missing the very point of adventure, or at least in my own definition of adventure. That’s not to mention all the cultural interactions, uncharted explorations, and experiences for the curious. These are the true rewards of adventure bike travel, in my opinion.
Yet, many see adventures or tours as failures if not completed in a certain box-ticking way and time, unfortunately. Although some will argue the toss, unless you get into serious strife, there is no real failure in adventures going off track or not ticking those boxes.
Many of my own adventures have taken some crazy twists, some of which an armchair naysayer might well call a ‘failure’. Though those are the adventures and experiences that I really remember, the ones that still make me grin and shudder as I shake my head in disbelief that I even contemplated attempting them.
Indeed, I have had many a very worrying mishap and encounter on my two-wheeled adventures over the years; the kind of stuff I was very lucky to give the slip. But somehow, I did, and am still here, and armed with a fair few fireside tales for the ‘not so faint-hearted’ to tell. My own personal learnings from these adventures are priceless.
This is as much a note to myself as anything else; don’t put this shit off, tomorrow may never come. Those opportunities may well never arise again. Don’t overthink. Don’t overplan. Don’t listen to the voices, wherever they come from (mostly that is). Strike while the iron is hot. We all have at least one epic, one great adventure in us. It doesn’t have to be an epic first-ever crossing of the Himalayas on an off-road unicycle, nor an FKT on the Great Divide Trail. Adventure starts at your own doorstep, and it’s something we can all do on a semi-regular basis, if we choose to turn familiarity into adventure. Get out there, take on trails and rides you don’t know, scare yourself regularly. Live it – this is the stuff of life.
