When Things Get Out of Hand

During a Q&A someone asked me a question I do not get often enough: "Describe a moment, if any, when you felt vulnerable or that circumstances were beyond your control."

Most people ask about the records. The kilometres. The countries. The logistics. This question was different. Here is my honest answer — three occasions, in no particular order of severity.

Kansas — The Tornado

I was riding across the Great Plains when the remains of a dissolving tornado caught me. Within a few minutes it was dark. Hard rain and wind were throwing me from one side of the country road to the other. There was nowhere to shelter on the plains — no trees, no buildings, nothing. Just flat open land and weather that had decided I was an obstacle.

After a few minutes the water got into my electrics and the lights failed. I could not go faster than 20 to 25 km/h. I could barely see.

A man in a pickup truck appeared behind me. He stayed there — using the LED light bar on his roof to illuminate the road ahead of me. He followed me for approximately an hour until I reached a village with a motel. Then he honked, waved, and drove on without stopping.

I could not thank him. I may owe him my life.

Siberia — The Tyre Blowout

My rear tyre blew out in the middle of nowhere behind Ulan Ude. The scooter was heavily loaded. When the tyre went, it started to swerve from side to side across the full width of the road — across all the potholes, all the broken surface. I tried to control it. I could not.

My last thought before I hit the ditch and the stones: please don't let it hit the engine casing. If it hits the casing, it is game over.

I displaced my collarbone. I rode for nearly three weeks at full dose of painkillers because I did not want a village doctor in rural Russia treating my shoulder, and I had no time to stop. Both of those reasons felt logical at the time.

Montenegro — One of the Ten Most Dangerous Roads in the World

I was on top of a mountain range at dusk when a thunderstorm started. The road had approximately fifty unlit tunnels and an uncountable number of curves with no barriers. I found out later it is listed as one of the ten most dangerous roads in the world.

I still had fifty kilometres to cover to reach a friend's house. So I continued. Truck drivers honking behind me. Barely any visibility because my luggage was blocking the front light. Curves appearing out of the dark. No margin for error.

I nearly soiled myself that night. That is the honest version.

What I Actually Think About This

When you go on long solo adventures, you are constantly running the chance of getting into trouble. Of being forced into situations that are out of your control and far outside your comfort zone. Sometimes things deteriorate very quickly. Your only option is a deep breath, control the fear, and act.

Fear is acceptable as long as you do not freeze. Having fear means you still have a functioning brain. Nature can show us very quickly how fragile we are.

During my 80-day world circumnavigation I was in genuine danger three to five times per day for stretches of it. You mostly cannot take a photo in those moments because you are focused on surviving. And for a long time I avoided talking about it — I did not enjoy talking about these things with tears in my eyes during travel presentations. It is awkward. It does not fit the image of the brave adventurer with the excellent plan.

But here is what most self-described adventurers will not admit: I was lucky. Very lucky to still be alive. And genuinely grateful for that — every single day.