Getting back to my bike after an unexpectedly long and heavy winter was somehow surreal. Harry was just standing there, exactly as I left him behind … just as if nothing had happened. After quickly checking on his general condition I gave it a go.
As a loyal travel companion the motor started without any complicated procedures. Hearing the purring sound that’s been buzzing in my ears over the last 33.000 km got on to me; let alone the exciting thought that this would be the music guiding me all the way to Vladivostok!
Putting on my suit and boots, my helmet with its familiar smell and fit, felt like coming home.
Like stepping back into my world, back on my own path, moving on to doing what suits me best: meandering through the unknown.
The most frightening idea to many: not knowing what is to come, not knowing what the day will bring, not knowing where to sleep at night is exactly what comforts me. And vice versa: what is considered the most normal thing in the world to many others, would freak me out: the obligation to work and pay of the mortgage, children depending and relying on you, trusting the millions of other people around you not to be crazy enough to start randomly shooting at by passers whenever they feel like it… It all comes down to what you’re used to; to your reference framework; to your perception.
I am nothing different – I just live a little different than the majority. I know I’m not the only one. There are plenty of others roaming around with a similar mindset. I’m looking forward to another season, to the next chapter, to the upcoming stretch towards Vladivostok – to the imposing nature that’s awaiting me, and to meeting extraordinary people along the way. It’s still very early in the season; I haven’t seen any other overland travelers so far, but they will start to appear with the temperature rising over the coming weeks and months.