England Expects: We're Coming Home (Conclusion)

From the archive...  Sunset in the Arctic Circle - hour after hour after hour.

I'm jumpy as I weave through the filthy wet Kentish lanes.  It's slippery, flooded in parts and I have to keep reminding myself which side of the gutter, sorry, road I should be on.  I could do with a rest and my urge to settle in at a roadside pub is a giveaway.  Mmmmm,  rest and a quiet beer.

Hey!  Before hanging up the gloves, don't let's make any snap decisions: I'm STILL enjoying my marvelous motorcycle and... well, I don't want to stop riding yet.  Because then it's over.  Done.

Tierra del Fuego.  Time enough to go round again?

Startled by a light at the end of the tunnel, the fat lady shrieks, trips over the final curtain and credits roll everywhere.  It's pandemonium and The End is now rushing towards me -  aaagh, this is sad.  Don't stop the ride - can't I stay on?  I mean, there are fewer new places to visit now, granted, and my savings are long gone.  On the other hand, I could winter in Morocco.  It's an inexpensive warm place, Morocco.  I could make a little turn here, catch a ferry south from Portsmouth...  Hmmm?  Please?

Enough.  This is it.  You're coming back to real life now.  Stop the false bravura, kid, and FEEL the moment... 

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I took Steve's advice and have been riding the last hour alone, cross-country on the back roads.  I wanted a little 'me time' to savour the moment and, supposedly, clear my head of churning thoughts.  It wouldn't do to arrive home looking like I've just eaten a sack of Smarties.

Belize - hot and humid.

But it's proving difficult to ignore the clamour in my head - after all, here comes real life, rushes the refrain - so I try to engage the voices and think my head clear, rationally.  It's like pulling on a loose thread.  Uh-oh, here we go again. 

Ok, deep breath.  Real life.  Think!  Well, let's pick a definition: a life more ordinary, free from fantasy.  Remember planning this journey?  You didn't buy in to the life of comfort, remember?  'Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore' (Andre Gide).  That sort of thing.

It's true: I felt simply building a legal career until I retired was too safe. And saving into a pension, picking a package holiday or an oak dining-table... even nurturing a young family... that life seemed to satisfy so many, but not me.  Not yet.  Would it ever?

Tajikistan

I worked an opportunity to do things differently - to take a chance on adventure, or in the words of Kipling 'make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss'. It might prove foolhardy, I felt, but the gamble would be a rare and special experience.  Real life could wait.

Chile

USA

And now? Three years in planning, almost two in the riding: over 100,000 km, 53 countries and one motorbike.  Do I better understand the lives others choose?  Can I use this understanding wisely?

Across those 53 countries people share experiences of life, love and death.  Discovering local interpretations of each is fascinating, because the fundamentals are often the same.  It showed me that those fortunate enough to choose their lifestyle should do so knowing the alternatives.  Perhaps now I can value those universal truths properly.

I suspect I sound like a saturday preacher on Speaker's Corner; but riding the wet winter roads I've no one to roll their eyes at me, or shout out abuse.  At least I'm feeling calmer now.

On the Himalayan Plateau

The mental dialogue continues gently.  'Neither material wealth nor trappings of status equate to happiness', I propose confidently.  Remember those charming moments between the grandfather and his grandson - in probably the least affluent place I visited?  It was priceless.

So, if most wealth seems surplus, where does real value lie?  From 'generosity', perhaps?  Generosity from those who have little, just as much as those blessed with plenty.  Mean people seem to miss that point. 

I've made friends who live in contrasting locations.  With them, a kind deed or friendly gesture jumps borders.  I received warm shelter from those with hearts bigger than their wallets: shy Mexicans, bold French, Americans (North and South) and Swiss.  Whether a penthouse in Korea, a tyre store in Alaska, or a desert train station in Eygpt, five star friendship is a measure of generosity. 

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 I'm only a few miles away from my family home, a few more turns.  I don't need the Garmin as the lanes are now very familiar.  The voices have given up.  I should bring this cosy chat with myself to a close, and hope I remember it. 

After my long journey I feel uneasy about crossing the threshold into the world that I used to know well.  Am I really going to pick up where I left off?  Surround myself with reassuring touchstones, or totems of security that measure the days; each as telling as a chalked line on a dull stone wall.  If so, I don't believe that will make for a satisfying life.

I hope I've rediscovered, changed or unpressed my personal values.  Will I now have the strength of character to embrace real life without letting go of those values?  Or, to riff off Kipling once more: to trust myself when all men doubt me, but make allowance for their doubting too... to talk with crowds and keep my virtue?

As I idle, ready to make that final turn up the hill, I promise myself to tackle this new challenge with commitment.  

So, an end to this tale of nomadic travel and let's start a fresh story: one inspired by riding in the tracks of giants.

My trusty Bavarian slots into gear and we smoothly ascend the hill.

'Hi there folks, I'm back.'

Me and my gal.  Home sweet home.

Thanks for listening.  There will be a post-script in due to course to let you know how the reintegration process goes...  Meantime, I'll finish the last couple of movies and tidy up loose ends.

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