Jamie here
I had always been fascinated by the wider world around me, though admittedly, it took me quite some time for this inquisitiveness to be realised.
The place where I grew up; the place which I would later leave with such ambition and excitement, was, to put it bluntly – a little underwhelming. With such exotic street names such as ferry masters way and Riverside avenue, one, quite mistakenly, might be led to believe that there stood a great port or large harbour where ships would dock before emptying their holds of their goods. Nothing could be further from the truth, however. There, alongside that aptly name boat house inn stood a slithering and muddy coloured stream, devoid of life but teeming with shopping trolleys, and I’m told, the odd rotting cow. It was called the old river, however, is far too generous: it was more like a leak that got out of hand for a day or two.
I would sit for hours on end staring at atlases (remember those?), flicking through the pages whilst being fascinated by the country names, topography, climates and fauna.
Indeed, I probably knew more about the wider world around me than most people who had actually travelled.
Then life happened…
It was only later however, at the tender age of 24 that I came to the realisation that, if I didn’t do this now, I was never going to do it.
So I did what any self-respecting 24-year-old would do: I went to the library.
After some careful research on where this trip would take me, I settled on New Zealand. Quite why I settled on the land of the kiwi, has been lost to me now but I’m sure it had to do with the fact that it was the furthest place I could reasonably go to where I could also work, though I think the Lord of the Rings box set bought whilst at university might have had something to do with it too.
With a working holiday visa bought, I had 12 months to enter the country. If I didn’t, I’d lose the £300 spent obtaining it and if there is one thing I hate more than kids on fat bikes, it’s losing money
The plan was to fly out to SE Asia and travel round for a couple of months before flying onwards to NZ to work for a few months before seeing that great country. Alas, things turned out quite differently and changed my life forever
As the months ticked by, the realisation came that I wouldn’t be able to save the money I needed to travel round SE Asia, and so I resigned myself to head straight for New Zealand, foregoing the backpacking trip I had so eagerly planned.
Disappointed and frustrated, I started looking at alternatives: how could I somehow for in some kind of travel before arriving in NZ? There didn’t seem to be many options, however: a cruise to New Zealand? Too expensive and probably too boring. A few country visits in Europe before flying out from there? That just didn’t seem to match with my lofty ambitions. Then it dawned on me: why don’t I simply make getting to NZ the actual travelling part?
It was an epiphany! I had it! I would travel overland, as far as that was possible, to New Zealand. What a great idea! This may have also come from some lyrics in an Aerosmith song, but I think I’ll take the credit:
Life’s a journey, not a destination.
With my grand plans now figured out, I set about meticulously planning the trip. Spreadsheets were made with train timings, stopovers, boat departures, whilst visas and hotel bookings were arranged. Equipment was bought. It’s hard to believe now, but I was quite the fastidious person.
And it was beneath the Eiffel Tower that I found myself one glorious afternoon with the whole of Eurasia ahead of me. I can still remember it to this day: the excitement, the adrenaline, the nerves and the utter feeling of adventure all ahead of me. I was alive.
I arrived in New Zealand one and a half months later after travelling through Europe, Russia and china.
After acquiring employment in a hip little delicatessen by the beach in Auckland, gradually came to the realisation that travelling around the country wasn’t going to be as straightforward as I had though: there wasn’t much public transport available.
All the people that I lived with all had their own cars or vans, and since I couldn’t drive, it became apparent that my only other options were to hitchhike or take a bus. Both had their downsides, with the biggest one being the fact that they would impinge on my freedom to go anywhere I wanted to.
I then hit upon using a bicycle to travel around the country. I asked myself; was this even possible? Did people actually do this? Not only did I realise that both of these points were true, but that I would also become infected by this kind of slow paced, intoxicating travel. Yes, it was the only way for me
The rest, as they say, is history.
