Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

What you should expect from a long bicycle journey

Bicycle touring for a sustained period of time is a funny old thing. It is freedom. It is frustration. It is joy. It is really a range of everything you can get thrown at you, erm, being thrown at you. Here’s a little photo journal of what you might expect if you saddle up and live off a bike for a while.

Mechanical Issues

During these moments, riders will often be heard feeling sorry for themselves by muttering / screaming such phrases as, “F*?k this!” or “Not again!” or “Just give me a break for one day!” or “Not dealing with it. I’m done. Totally done. Where’s the nearest burrito shop?”

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Ambiguous Sleeping Arrangements

It’s 9PM, 10PM, 1AM. You haven’t got a clue where you are. Your eyelids are heavy. You need to stop. You’ll want to sleep A LOT. Fear not though – spend long enough living on a bicycle and you will become a sleep ninja. You will become a hawk, being able to spot possible places to sleep from a mile away. Your sixth sense will develop, and you’ll become comfortable not being comfortable. You might even wake up in a nice spot occasionally. Popular phrases during these times include: “This bench will do”, and, “No way will there be a park ranger who kicks the tent at 4.30AM. Absolutely not.”

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Lots of Empty and Enjoyable Roads

You know, those roads that keep going right the way to the horizon. These are either total bliss (if you’re in a good mood) or hell on earth (if you’re in a bad mood). Either way they become some of the magical moments that, after all is said and done, will always provide memories that will make you daydream and sometimes miss road life. Phrases during these times include: “No one will hear me singing Bat Out Of Hell here, surely not”, and, “It’s flat and straight. There’s absolutely no way anything can go wrong on this stretch.”

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Teaming up with new pals

Who is that in the distance? They look like pannier bags. Maybe they are. Finally, after weeks and weeks, you’re not a loner anymore! It’s another person on a bike! These times are wonderful. They take you out of your own head and often form the experiences which you’ll cherish forever. Someone once said, “Happiness only real when shared”, and they were right. Phrases during these times include: “Want to stop for a beer?” and “Want to stop for lunch?”

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All In All, A Jolly Good Time

It will sometimes suck. You will sometimes wake up in an ants nest. You will miss home. It will make you question yourself. But, it will be one of the best times of your life. That’s why you should consider doing it.

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Categories
Interviews Vague Direction Book

Chats with Evernote

[dropcap]If[/dropcap] you followed the Vague Direction bicycle journey as it was happening, you may’ve seen the Evernote logo on the Vague Direction website. They were friends and partners throughout the trip, and I don’t think I could function properly without their productivity tools, which have become an external brain and a place to document everything – from the everyday to the more bizarre. As David Allen of GTD says, “your brain is for having ideas, not for holding them.” And it’s true!

Recently I spoke with them about the workflow used whilst writing the book, as well as the value of grit, creative labours of love, writing terrible rap songs, and more. It’s over on their blog. Hope you enjoy it!

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Categories
Interviews Philosophy Vague Direction Book

Creative projects, iteration & doubt

Here’s another video. (Last one for a while, promise!) Following on from the last post, where Visual Collective and I teamed up, this time around we had a quirky conversation about:

  • The battles of a long-term creative project
  • Knowing or not knowing when a project is done
  • The fear that comes with knowing something you’ve made will be set free

Check out the video on YouTube here

Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel Interviews Vague Direction Book

A Little About Film

At the end of a very long day a week or two ago, dear homies Visual Collective and I teamed up to record a piece about Vague Direction when we possibly maybe probably definitely should’ve been doing other things. They’re very nice.

We spoke about:
  • What the reason for starting Vague Direction was
  • How the blog played a part in the overall bicycle journey
  • How the book has come about

Here’s the YouTube link.

Categories
Bicycle Travel Vague Direction Book

The Vague Direction Book (Pre-order now on Kickstarter)

Hey everyone,

Big ol’ news today. The Vague Direction Book, about the bicycle journey and the stories that happened along the way, is written. And I’d love your help to publish it.

So today, for a limited time, I’m launching a Kickstarter crowdfunding campaign to help get over the final hurdle, which is to get: cover design, interior formatting, and the first print-run of the paperback.

Here’s the link, which has literally just gone live! (Ah, sorry! The campaign is now over, but we were successful!)

On the Kickstarter campaign, you’ll find a few packages – ranging from pre-ordering a single book, to pre-ordering some for you and your friends, to video hangouts, framed photographs and more.

Thank you, I can’t wait for you to read the book! It’s demanded more than ever imagined, it’s taken absolutely ages, and the writing process has been one heck of a journey in itself, but hopefully it’s a better read for it! Really hope you’ll enjoy it.

Head over to Kickstarter to find out a lot more about it, and to pledge to make it happen.

P.S. If you regularly get anything from this blog and would like to get involved in another way, spreading the word about the Kickstarter campaign to your social networks (here’s the Vague Direction Facebook page) etc would be amazing and would really help :)

Categories
Philosophy

Mr Yamaguchi

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]sutomu Yamaguchi had a cushty job. He worked for Mitsubishi, in Japan, where he was an engineer in the shipbuilding division, designing oil tankers.

It was World War Two.

He was away on business when it happened, stepping off a tram, before heading to a shipyard that nestled among flat potato fields on either side. It was the final day of a three month work trip, the day before he was due to go back home, back to his wife and new born kid.

Some punk in a plane dropped a ruddy Atom bomb on his head.

Mr Yamaguchi had taken a work trip to Hiroshima, and that is where, at 8.15am, on August 6th 1945, the US B-29 Bomber dropped an Atomic Bomb. The bomb had a name – “Little Boy” – what kind of person calls a bomb little boy? It was the first nuclear weapon to ever be used in warfare, killing somewhere between 45,000 and 83,000 people on the first day, with those numbers doubling over time.

Tsutomu Yamaguchi was stoic by nature. He was knocked out by the blast. When he regained consciousness, he was met by total devastation, total carnage. People burned, bodies in the river, skin dripping off the walking dead.

He got on the train and went back home the following day, after spending the night in an air raid shelter. Back to his wife and new born kid. When he returned, he even took a couple of days off to let his wounds heal, which seems reasonable.

“Home,” he maybe thought, “home at last.”

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On August 9th, he went back to work at Mitsubishi, this time back to his regular office and now swathed in bandages. “No more business trips for a while, after that!” he might’ve muttered, as he arrived at work.

At 11am, Tsutomo was discussing the bombing with his supervisor, when another little punk, from high above again, dropped another ruddy Atom bomb on his head. Because Mr Yamaguchi lived in, worked in, had a family in, and had just returned back to, Nagasaki.

The bomb hit. A 25-kiloton plutonium bomb, called “Fat Man.” It was the second time, in history, that a nuclear weapon had ever been used in warfare. One has never been used since. It killed somewhere between 19,000 and 40,000 people in the first day, and again, as in Hiroshima, that number doubled over time.

Mr Yamaguchi was Atomic Bombed in one place, put on some bandages, went home, and then got Atomic Bombed there too.

Damn.

Is that good luck or bad luck?

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He lost hearing in one ear, had a fever for a week afterwards, and his bandages were ruined. His wife battled illness from then on, because of the radiation posioning. Most other members of his family too. He also developed radiation side-effects throughout his life and lived much of it, whilst it was long, in agony.

Later in his life, Yamaguchi become an avid proponent of nuclear disarmament, wanting a complete abolition and arguing his case at the UN. “The reason that I hate the atomic bomb,” he said in one interview, “is because of what it does to the dignity of human beings.” When looking back on the two blasts that he’d been part of, he sat on stage in his wheelchair, and said, “I sincerely hope that there will not be a third.”

If in doubt, when it sucks, and when life gives us lemons or atomic bombs – Maybe we shouldn’t make lemonade, maybe we should take a purpose from it and be more like Mr Yamaguchi.

Images courtesy: commons.wikimedia.org

Categories
Philosophy

Learning To Use Intimidation

A truck approached.

It slowed down rapidly, as though it was a last minute decision from the pedal-heavy driver.

I was riding on the hard shoulder, without music because I’d overplayed most songs recently and was bored of Every. Single. Album. For a while, silence, creaky gears and bird noises had most definitely replaced Mos Def.

A few feet away, the passenger window on the smokey and rickety truck began to open. It was probably someone wanting to chat or just shout “where you headed?” That happened sometimes.

An apple whizzed past my head at full pelt. I heard the rush of air whistle past and rattle my ear drum. 

“Haha, you fucker! Get a car, asshole!” a voice shouted from inside the truck, half a second before speeding off.

It’s quite a vivid memory.

The wild intimidation of landing in the snow on Day 1 is another vivid memory. 

On the airy approach, occasionally the clouds would part and I’d see huge amounts of nothingness over North East Canada. Just empty, baron land. That caused doubt, which for a short moment seemed quite crippling. My mind was in overdrive with whirling thoughts. A stirring pot full of equal parts excitement, fear, and apprehension. And when we got close to landing, I saw the deep white powder for the first time. It was a moment of realisation that I was completely underprepared and didn’t have a clue what I was doing.

But then a couple of days were ticked off, and nothing went too badly wrong. And then a week, and a month. And eventually, what to do and how to handle things became clear, and all those worries that had been so strong faded into irrelevance.

Immersion teaches us what we need to know. In this case it was things like where to sleep, how to manage everything, how to avoid apple throwers, how to swear at apple throwers effectively, how to visualize apple throwers getting hit with a dripping wet fish etc. 

To become competent all it takes is diving right in and grasping on to a little bit of confidence, even if there’s not much of it rattling around inside our intimidated minds.

Becoming a brain scientist, riding a bicycle a long way, learning poker or Krav Maga, it’s all the same. When we’re truly immersed, then given time, everything that we need to know becomes intuitive. That is the coolest part about the learning curve.

With most things that seem wildly daunting at first, surface fear is likely all it is.

It’s worth thinking about the things we’re putting off, and asking ourselves the hard question. Why?

If we’re holding ourselves back because of intimidation, then that might be a sign that something’s worth doing.

What seems like fear now probably won’t last long.

Dive in.

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Categories
Vague Direction Book

A Letter To A Thick Chunk Of Paper

Dear Book,

Sorry for telling you to leave and never come back. But sometimes… well, sometimes I hate you.

You don’t even realise you’re doing it, but you make everything so difficult. Whenever we’re in the same room, I hollowly stare at you – for hours or days – like a boneheaded idiot gazing at your pages with nothing to say. You’re overwhelming and knowing where to start can seem impossible. So I often don’t start at all. I just ignore you and hope that you’ll be gone when I get back. 

The other day the guy behind Game Of Thrones said he likes having written but doesn’t like writing. That struck a chord and I’m pretty sure you know why. You do know why, don’t you?

It’s been a while now. We’d met briefly before but it was fleeting. How it eventually became a commitment like it is now I’ll never know. And it pains me to say it, but there’s frequently times when I wish we’d never met, because it just doesn’t come naturally to me. I often look at real writers from a distance and think you should just go and hang with them instead. They have skill and know what they’re doing. You’d be in better company with them. 

You know I said I hated you? Well that’s sometimes true, but at least the hatred goes both ways. At least we have that in common. 

You hate when I think we can’t compete and should go our separate ways.
You hate that sometimes I swear. Shit.
You hate that you frequently have to come at the end of the to-do list.
You hate when we went away and fell out and I spent time with her instead of you.
You hate that our process is so condition-dependent and full of false excuses.
Not unless I’ve had caffeine or a sandwich or am feeling “inspired”.

We’ve probably grown recently but haven’t realised it yet. It was our biggest rejection. We tried to keep it under the radar and act like we didn’t care but we did. We really did. I thought we’d cracked it. It looked so promising until, out of the blue, the publisher said sorry-but-no. I’m pretty sure that’s what getting stabbed in the eyeball with a dirty Swiss Army knife feels like. Let’s not do that again. Let’s do it on our own instead.

There’s still work to do. A few months’ worth. Neither of us realised we were signing up for something that would take this long, but unfortunately you’re still well rough around the edges and need polishing. But holy toast-crumbs, we’ve come a long way.

Sorry, I take it back. I don’t hate you at all. You’re alright when you’re not being difficult.

Yeah. You’re alright.

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Categories
Adventure Philosophy

It’s All Relative

The following is a guest post from Emma at Gotta Keep Movin’. She writes about that age old question of what an adventure is. My view on this is unreliable and changes more than a regularly rotated hourglass, so it’s nice to read that Emma has a way more solid approach.

Anyway, it can be easy to get drowned in a sea of supposed-meanings, and to fall into the trap of thinking too much about ‘what people will think’ or ‘how does this stack up to someone else?’. Those concerns in many areas of life can be toxic.

So there’s a primer. Take it away, pal!

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Let’s Stop Trying to Define Adventure: It’s All Relative Emotion

I read travel journalism on an almost daily basis, and lately I can’t help but notice the influx of snobbery. While there are a whole host of ways in which this affliction rears its ugly head, it’s rating the validity of adventure that I find the most tedious. Fueling the increasingly competitive nature of travel, words like ‘true’, ‘meaningful’, or ‘real’ are applied to adventure, often referring to more physically demanding expeditions, traversing of uncharted lands, or the never-been-done-befores. This neatly stacks travel experiences into stiff umbrella categories of ‘more’ or ‘less’ adventurous. If you’re not near the lofty heights of daring adventure, you’re swiftly discarded onto the pile of mediocre travellers, excluded from the elite super-club of nomads who are obviously doing a much better job of travelling than you are.

The word ‘adventure’ has been traditionally defined, in the literal sense of the word, as something that gives a sense of thrill, something that involves an element of risk, or an activity one feels to be exciting. With the way we’re presently talking about adventure, it’s as if these have been put on a ladder — my thrill is better than your thrill, my risk is larger (and therefore more valuable) than your risk.

Since when were these emotions measurable and ordered into better or worse, admirable or laughable?

Why have we put adventure on a scale?

My firm belief is this: adventure is a horizontal spectrum, not a vertical hierarchy. It doesn’t fall into a single category, or risk level, or thrill factor, and it certainly doesn’t have winners or losers. Adventure is an infinite variety of emotions and reactions, something that is sparked off in each of us in many different ways. Like the beauty in everything else that makes us unique as human beings, there is something to be celebrated in the fact that each of our senses of adventure is personal and individual.

For some, it’s the intrepid feeling of stepping into new places, the unknown and obscure. For others, it’s a change in routine, not necessarily related to moving far from home but more a sense of any activity out of the ordinary. It can be what makes you happy, or what terrifies you. And yes, some people find it in challenging their minds and bodies under the most testing conditions on Earth. Our stereotyped view of adventure is still valid, of course, but it stands shoulder to shoulder with so many more, blending in with some and opposing others.

For me, the important part is the emotion rather than the activity. The only length I would go to in order to define it, if I had to say it was anything, would be this; adventure is something that makes you (personally you) feel adventurous.

As travel journalists speaking about adventure, it’s our responsibility to avoid exclusivity. Adventure needs to be accessible, and if we continue to pin it to levels of more or less, better or worse, we’re in grave danger of alienating the people we’re trying to reach. Our mission is to inspire, not impose — and we’re teetering dangerously on the edge of imposing a definition of the activities that are counted as adventures, thus belittling and excluding any other way of travel that sits outside of them. With our constant need to push and push at more extreme ways to travel, traditional means seem to become less valid, a fact that saddens me and could easily dishearten many future travellers.

It’s time to encourage a new way of looking at adventure, a way where legitimacy or authenticity don’t come into it. In fact, a way that has no concrete definition at all. It’s not okay to tell someone else how to enjoy the things they love in any other aspect of life, so it’s also not okay to tell someone how to adventure. It is about feeling thrilled, excited, a little scared but nevertheless exhilarated, or whatever other emotion that leads you to one thing — it is about feeling adventurous.

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Emma Higgins is a travel writer from the UK with a penchant for people. Wandering the globe for 4 years and counting, she’s found value in travel by talking to people and seeking out individual stories, as well as venturing through our planet’s most incredible spaces. Her website, Gotta Keep Movin’, documents the tales she’s collected on the way, and her InstagramFacebook, and Twitter offer more snippets from her life of travel. Most days, you will find her with a cup of coffee in one hand, and a pen in the other. 


Categories
Adventure Interviews Philosophy

The Value Of Grit, Trust and Time [TED Talk: Video]

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to give this talk at TEDxStormont in Belfast. It’s supposed to be called ‘The Value of Grit’ and uses stories from last years bike trip to touch on: why we should trust ourselves, why putting things off for too long is rarely sensible, and the value of elephants / grit. Yep, really. Elephants. Strange, right?

Hope that it resonates with anyone who is burned out or considering doing something new that seems scary. And hopefully the extremely nervous sweating and fast-talking isn’t too off putting. It’s now clear that I listen to way too much freestyle hip-hop.