On the 1st of April 2014 I left my (parents) home in Wolverhampton on an unplanned journey by motorcycle – as far as I could make it without forking out for a Carnet. I traveled alone with no real mechanical abilities, no expedition experience, no understanding of languages and the growing conviction I was going to be let down by my bank balance at some point. I started badly, scuppered by sickness and feeling overwhelmingly daunted by my own lack of preparations. Regardless I surged out of the port town and into three months of adventure, near-misses and new friendships. Corrupt border officials, kids with assault rifles, roads seemingly pitted by meteorites. Blue skies, bee stings, the smell of the the sea and the sounds of cicadas. Racing the clock through the night, impressed by swarms of Italian prostitutes. Ditching half of your kit, laughing at expensive (£££!) touring bikes being nursed over-carefully and being intentionally deplorable in international company. Thunder-storms.
The experiences that were hard won have forged the strongest memories. The good days tasted all the sweeter for the days spent suffering in between. A good stint of discomfort might be the best thing for us..
Settle in with a cup of tea, get inspired, prepare as little as possible and head out on your own adventure
Reference: Route Map