The hardest part...
“Hey, I have a question for you…” a voice shouted over the horde of idling cars. I was waiting in line to cross the border from Kosovo into Macedonia, and a young man in the car behind me was leaning out his window, smiling.
I put down my apple and Redbull and walked back to him, “Sure…I have an answer for you.”
“What’s the hardest part of a trip like you’re taking?” Gent had already studied my bike and found all the stickers and the map across the top bag. His friend in the seat next to him works for Deloitte and was the niece of the Kosovo ambassador to Bulgaria. Interesting group. Gent was a few years younger than me (or than I view myself) and he quickly explained that he was a motorcyclist hoping to do some longer trips soon.
I gave him the most honest answer: “Man…it’s really lonely.” I shared a few details with Gent, running back and forth to move the bike down the line while keeping the conversation alive.
What does this look like?
The nature of motorcycling has changed for me. For my entire life, climbing on the motorcycle meant I’d be able to clear my head in a few minutes. Something bothering me? I’ll just go for a ride. An ever-reliable emotional release. It’s not like that anymore. Hours-on-end simply means more thoughts come. With no one to talk them through, they often just churn. Now, I routinely think, “Alright, we need to get safely from point A to point B and keep a good head about us…” A far cry from the days of old.
Solitude feels better. Sitting down to a meal in a restaurant has no appeal...even in a cuisine mecca. It’s a bit depressing to see families and groups of friends all enjoying great company, as they occasionally glance at the lonely outsider trying to overcome the urge to shovel down a meal and make a quick exit. It’s just more comforting to pick up some groceries and retire to a BnB, eat on a dock, simultaneously inspect the motorcycle…or eat in line at a border crossing.
Recognizing there’s a lot of lonesome road ahead. In all my scheming, I’d made the assumption that my father and brother would join me for large portions of the trip. In the last couple years, we’d kicked round plans to ride the section from Anchorage to Prudhoe Bay and back home, as well as the section from Athens to Mongolia. Both would mean at least one-third of the trip would be a Hitchings family adventure. Unfortunately, obligations back home and my failure to lock in a timeline early enough have reduced the family fun portion to a week in May, but I’m more than thankful for the time we’ll have.
I really miss those close to me. Never before have I appreciated small check-ins from people back home. A random text of "How fares our favorite adventurer?” really lifted my spirits after a few days of solitude and no virtual contact with friends or family. I recognize life goes on while I gallivant, but every touch point with close friends has that much more impact when traveling alone. The twenty minutes of banter and laughter with Gent at the border was great and was the longest engaging conversation in weeks. He and I could be close comrades under other circumstances, and it really made me miss those back home. It's good to have friends, wherever they may be.
It’s about completing the task in one piece. As mentioned in a video update, I dumped the bike at speed in France—the first wreck in motion in 20 years. The bike and my frame remained virtually unscathed, but my pride took a hit. It shook me. I truly came to realize this isn’t a joyride. The potential to make a fatal mistake is very real, and with no riding partners around, a small injury in a remote location could become a very large problem. Knowing that, I’ve dialed back the aggressiveness considerably and am more thankful that the avoidable risky situations turned out well. Okay, so I won’t have someone to share the experience with me, and I can’t safely enjoy pushing the limits each day. That’s fine. I need to just make it home safely.
After a prayer each morning just before climbing on Green, I pat my trusty steed and say, “It’s just me and you, buddy. I’ll take care of you, if you take care of me. Now, let’s get it done.”
