Fini……for now
It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.
Ernst Hemmingway
It has proven incredibly difficult to write down such an intangible period of my life into words; a journey of juxtapositions, a search for oneself amongst the sturgeon. Laden with the forthcoming of a storm, I knew a return to Ol’Blighty would reawaken some senses and dull many others. The opportunity to see old friends, celebrate birthdays and a safe return party was a welcomed reprisal to the many sleepless nights, bouts of sickness and saddle-sores; but underneath all the smiles and wise cracks given I sensed that deep down I missed my tent and the great unknown that greeted me each morning.
Adventure is one hell of an elixir, and I am sure it falls under several of the seven deadly sins: greed, lust, gluttony….pride. What started as a pinprick in lockdown blossomed into the adventure of a lifetime, and like many fruit-bearing trees, its seeds fall to lay dormant in various parts of my brain. Awaiting a time, moment and adequate condition to germinate again.
It would be impossible to recite all that went on during the expedition, and I would never do it justice were I to attempt it. Instead I will break down the beginning, middle and end; all that inspired and wrecked me in sketch mode. Previous blogs and chewing the fat in a pub near you will fill in the blanks and hopefully provide more detail to all that occurred, and in turn hopefully stir something in you to go one better with whatever your cause may be.
A path to somewhere: lost and found
The preparation
This may sound half-crazed, and maybe you need to be to undertake a journey such as the one I did, but I remain convinced that anyone who really sets their mind to whatever their chosen task at hand is, can complete it. I set off from the UK without any proper preparation, and remain thankful I did so for I know that if I had done extensive wet winter cycling I would have had more than the one panic attack prior to departure.
Stacked against me was the three ACLs I had ‘completed’ over my life, significantly down against the biological average. Wrecked by sport and stupidity alike, my body has toiled and taken the brunt for many of the mishaps in life. It would have to take one more, but one that would hopefully bring about some much needed healthy change. Couple my poor physical state with minimal life savings, and you have what would appear to be a doomed quest. However, all that really matters once you are on the saddle (apart from the depth of sores) is your top 2%, the part of your brain that asks how bad do you want it.
I found myself asking this question at several stages of the trip: the week from hell in Hungary, mountainous climbs when sick in Georgia and most mornings in the desert crossing, and each time I managed to get back on the bike. The sense of adventure and my own pride often auto-piloting me back on the road. I have previously written how I found riding for a purpose created a mental and physical turbocharger, a resource to draw upon after ruined equipment, nose-diving morale and days without adequate supply. I’ve found that giving yourself to something greater builds you as a person, not diminishes.
Saving sturgeon single handedly was never an intention of this quest, what I wanted to do was bring a species no one had even heard of into you, the three blog readers, lives. To inspire you to fight for the unknown, to champion your own species or passion that needs help and to think of the wider ecological picture. We are still part of the web of life, and increasingly we have the power to determine which species and wild places stay and which we are happy to watch inch towards oblivion. It is always better to be a fighter than a spectator, and to victory do the spoils of war belong. We can have a better, fairer planet if we collectively determine to bring it about and we do not have time to idly watch from the sidelines anymore.
The morale well: drawing reserve from the cause
The ride
Hours spent on a saddle marveling at my surroundings, wincing with sores in the Stans or tutting crap drivers, gave me ample opportunity to just think; an increasingly rare thing in this chaotic new era we have created for ourselves. Bored? Quick rinse of Instagram or a catch up on WhatsApp. Still bored? Re-read BBC Sport, Depop or check a stocks and shares ISA (I wish I had one of these to be fair). Intentionally or not we carve out so little time to just think in; and yet boredom can be such a powerful thing. Imagine if Newton was checking out his love interest on Instagram when the apple fell, what then? I used to call the first cycle session of the day the ‘ideas generator’, no music, no podcasts just eyes and ears wide open to the world around me. In these moments the mind would wander from marveling at the IQ of a magpie to what the purpose of my life is. The human brain is the most powerful thing nature has EVER invented. Let your mind wander from time to time and see what comes of it. Use it or lose it and creativity is something you can train!
Something I feel most privileged to experience was witnessing the incremental, sometimes huge, shifting mosaic of cultures and faces; reminding me daily of the beauty in humankind. I would guesstimate that of the thousands of people I encountered only three stick out as being anything less that decent. From being taken is as family over a festive holiday in Italy to the everyday extreme kindness I was showed in Uzbekistan, people have been a real rock for me. An expedition I expected to be about remoteness and rekindling an urge for the wild was matched by a deep desire to learn more about the person next to me and the local traditions I was journeying through. Something I have taken from the trip is to always say a greeting in whatever the local language is. Some of my greatest adventures over the past six months often lay behind a ‘hello’, the password to Pandora’s box and something that we in the UK are increasingly adverse to saying to strangers.
People and places: the two are inextricably linked
Jettisoning out of society is actually a lot harder than I anticipated and there is always a price for doing so. You are then left with a decision, do I stay and remain with an itch, operating at a less than 100% version of myself, or do I take the plunge and see what becomes of it. If you decide the latter I can guarantee you that you will repay the cost of leaving and then some. This goes for anyone, not just for those embarking on a solo trip. Comfortability is the enemy of growth, at least for those of a similar ilk to myself, and you will learn a lot more about yourself and the bigger picture after going through tough periods than you would spent doing your safe and steady routine. It is hard to know just how much you are capable of until you push your limits. I have returned home with a deep sense of self, a trust in my own body despite the butchered knees, that I know what my body and mind can do and it was much, much more than I even imagined six months ago.
It is important to be aware that setbacks are all but a guarantee, both in life and on expeditions. However, experiencing a setback with a mate or partner is always easier to digest, rationalise and strategise. Ferry delay with your mate, game of cards. Border closed due to war breaking out, hang out in a hostel or the Winchester and wait for it all to blow over. Experiencing this by yourself becomes a real battle between your reality and the scary scenarios your mind races to: expensive re-route, cancelled trip? In moments such as these being resourceful is worth more than its weight in gold. Setbacks created some of my fondest memories on this expedition: from the mad dash into Istanbul when I should have been on a ferry in Bulgaria, to negotiating a border opening in Tajikistan. There is always a silver lining to every cloud, you just have to look a bit harder for it sometimes.
Turning setbacks into sunsets: a detour not by choice
The return
Forget trip of a lifetime, this was a lifetime in a trip and I cherish dearly every moment spent on my bike and in my tent. I have seen the world in all its splendour and for the religious reader(s), I have experienced the wonders of God first hand. From sleepless nights staring at the Milky Way, feeling the reverberation of fields full of insects to waking to the howl of wolves. I still don’t know anything more about life, or why we are here but I returned with a few ideas and an even greater appreciation for the world around us. There is still a wild world out there, but it is increasingly on the frontline.
The itch that long awaited scratching was done, but scratch beneath the surface as they say and a new world can be opened up to you. I returned content in myself and what has been achieved, but I also know that the seeds I mentioned in the opening chapter will germinate again one day; but next time I hope to do it with a partner in crime: Issy, a mate, luna….my pub landlord. The expedition gave me so much and took a fair piece in return; both it and I will digest our spoils for a long while to come.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sad it’s over, but I am immensely proud of myself to say I reached its conclusion. I’m a firm believer that when something ends, something new begins so this is not the end of my journey, nor of One Average Spoke as a concept, but merely the start of a new road….one far less travelled. To all who supported, donated and cheered me on, a huge, HUGE thank you. To the alpkit Foundation, the Fishmongers’ Company’s Charitable Trust, the Jeremy Willson Charitable Trust and New England Seafood International, you enabled a dream to become reality, something I would not have been able to achieve without your support.
There will come a time where I intend to depart again and blogs to be written once more. Until then I hope those that have read these brain dumps have enjoyed, been inspired and intend to follow their own passion in turn. I myself hope to return to these blogs one day to go over all that was achieved and all that inspired me, but it is too soon to do so now. Until then, farewell and may the roads be smooth and the wind at your back until we next meet.
Matt.
One very average bloke.
