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Category: The Road (page 2 of 4)

False Finish

When I set off six months and 27 days earlier, this was supposed to be the finish line. End game.

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When you first ride through camel shit it’s exotic. When you first ride through human shit it’s just downright disgusting.

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Zi Chin Sur

I’m glad I’ve done it.

The second entry in the ‘Things Travellers Say’ phrasebook. Usually preceded by a story where the protagonist has dragged their arse through an entirely unenjoyable experience in the vain hope they can look back on it one day as a character building, life affirming moment, when in actual fact the only thing they’re glad about it the fact they’ll never have to do it again.

China. I’m glad I’ve done it.

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The Great Leap Forward

Getting back into Kazakhstan was easier than I anticipated. After horror stories of checking through laptops, phones, cameras and hotel registration slips, the Uzbek lads just didn’t seem bothered by me.

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Go with the Flo

If there’s one word I can think of to describe the first 400km of Uzbekistan it’s —


Enough room to swing a cat. Enough room to swing several cats tied together, which is fine out here, there’s probably no RSPCA.

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Cabin Fever

I met a few overlanders in a hostel once and we had a conversation about when people describe something as – ‘An experience.’

This generally means it was shit, but it makes for a decent story somewhere down the line.

The Baku – Aktau ferry was an experience.

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The Idiot

You can’t truly call yourself an idiot until you’ve tried to sleep through a six hour thunderstorm in nothing but bivvi bag as thick as a binliner.

I am an idiot.

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As a fifteen year old, I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to be when I grew up. Who does?

That sounds a bit like the narration from The Wonder Years.

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I was done with Istanbul, four days was enough. That meant it was time to leave Pierre and Cyril, their trip finished here (along with their bikes), and Christof was taking a ferry south to Bursa, then cycling towards war.

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Christof was pretty eager to see if anything had changed on this border crossing. Twenty something years had passed since he last saw it, he recalled a badly kept road, a bridge over the dividing the river with armed Greek and Turkish soldiers on each side respectively. It was exactly the same.

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