“Wwwwhyyyahhh????” | 97 reasons for my travels
The, umm, what should I say, overweight woman, younger than me no doubt if I cared to check, tottled over from her passenger’s seat in the huge stretch Winnebago and without introduction immediately launched into the standard interrogation.
Spending months bicycling across the Australian continent on remote roads is easy. Encounters with unsympathetic travellers, well, that’s a different story.
“You’re not a reporter are you”, I joked.
There’s no real interest in the bike, or me, here and it’s hard to discern why my method of transportation has caused her so much anxiety. I’m tall and lean, weather-toughened, ambling around with a permanent grin, some might add the adjective ridiculous there, but she certainly has no jealousy for my chosen lifestyle. Maybe it comes from her own deep insecurities, mixed with a (barely concealed) hostile indignation that I should be allowed to have such freedom. How come you’ve abandoned your wife, your children and your job? It’s a terrible indulgence to give up the consumer ethic, etc. Surely you must prioritise comfort and security above all else in life, the way I have — even if that mixture of cosiness and sloth might kill, sooner rather than later?
I can sense it’s all there bubbling away incoherently in her head.
I smile and try to appear friendly. The usual 20 Questions are easy, ie the predictable: How far? How long? How many punctures? etc. I respond, as always, with more courtesy than has been offered up, these days I’m entirely accustomed to this type of exchange with my fellow travellers.
Actually, there’s an additional question around here, that is often made into a statement: Come across the Nullabor? The fearful emptiness is big in the mind of those city dwellers who have just traversed the road from Ceduna to Norseman — about 1200 desolate kilometres — in their tin cocoon, air-conditioning on, chocolate biscuits and cold drinks at hand, stereo blaring, cruise control engaged.
“Nuh. Came over the top”, I state casually, as if that was the easier option. I have an expansive arm movement that hints at something big. Melbourne to Esperance is about 2700 km via the most direct highway route: I don’t mention I’ve come 14,000 km.
The last demand, I guess that makes it the 22nd Question now, not often asked, isn’t so easy to flick off. It strikes to the heart of my motivations.
“Wwwwhyyyahhh?????”
Huh? Translate that as “Why?”, delivered with a whining Ozzy accent.
There’s the obvious 97 reasons which I don’t often articulate:
- Maybe was time for a Little Adventure;
- I always wanted to;
- Thought it would be a good idea to see the world and started at the front door;
- Life without a safety net might prove more challenging, intense, fulfilling;
- Got sick of staring into a computer screen after 15 years;
- Wanted to see if effort combined with discomfort really did, in fact, equate to pleasure — well, the jury’s still out on that one;
- Wanted to feel the shuddering of the earth from deafening thunder claps as huge dry thunderstorms passed immediately overhead;
- Found I could no longer be bothered to talk reluctant people into making common sense decisions on a daily basis — as they say, common sense ain’t so common any more;
- To get over that feeling of tedium with life, verging on cynicism, just like all my friends, although they chose continuing acceptance of the status quo;
- Felt it was time to oxygenate the brain;
- Felt some decent exercise was in order — might have over-achieved on that score;
- In fact, it was probably the time to get healthy, or even fit — wow, look at me now;
- Broke up with my soul mate and thought it might be the best therapy;
- I’d already made millions, didn’t want any more cash and need to fill the days in somehow — actually part of that one may not be true;
- Just felt like it;
- Time to face the real, “real” world;
- Wondered if I could I cope with serious periods of solitude — well, durh;
- Makes Monday morning feel really good — if I remember it’s Monday;
- Wanted to muck around with some good, honest characters who know how to embrace life;
- Thought it would be interesting to exchange inane philosophy with fellow travellers who have toured the world looking for their answer;
- Thought it would be fun to see if this fashion of Super-Materialism matters — of course not, you have the best fun with a whole lot of nothing and your new best friend;
- Wanted to feel the exhilaration of standing on a featureless plain looking out to a huge, barren horizon with not a cloud in the sky;
- Might just find I’m capable of having a great time;
- Umm, why the hell not;
- It would avoid having to deal with my long term future;
- Always wanted to camp at a remote waterhole and wake up to a cacophony of bird song;
- To avoid work for as long as possible, or, at least for a goodly period;
- To feel the wind in my hair;
- To watch a full moon rise over the spinifex;
- Or, the shooting stars track across a night sky where the stars are just as bright on the horizon;
and for each of the other 73 reasons.
But, when it comes down to it, there’s really only one.
I don’t want to sleepwalk to extinction.
As they say: make the most of those heartbeats.
A 464 day, 16,731km journey across the Australian continent on my trusty old mountain bike provided both Little Adventures and bigtime space for contemplation.
Many citified Australians seem to regard their country with an attitude resembling dismissal: “flat”, “boring”, just generally unworthy of getting to know much. I’m not so sure, sometimes you can look but you just don’t see, for many there’s fear of that vast emptiness, covered by the veil of boredom.
I can’t recall ever being bored, but then again, I traveled with the best of company.
I wrote an ebook about my travels, Heading West | an almost epic bike journey across Australia, based on my blog from the time.
That was the first few pages.
