I missed this one when it went viral in 2009, but back then I was planning my own adventures. Now, on a sunny London afternoon (yes, they exist), having just been for a walk in the park (… for those counting, this is a pre-scheduled post!) it seems like a fantastic idea.
But how far could I push myself on a project like this? A week? A month? A year? Where would I do it? China has many obstacles; the language would probably be one of the biggest. Also, though, the culture isn’t something that fascinates me. Europe? Or is it too developed to be fun? Australia? Would I survive the wilderness?
Would I walk, or ride a bike, or drive a car like I did in 2010?
At Congo, New South Wales, on a crisp winter afternoon...
Could I build surfing into the trip, and if so, how would I manage the gear? Could it be an amazing way to experience the United States?
As you can see, my head is buzzing with ideas. London has been an urban adventure, but it doesn’t sate in me the hunger awakened by my youth at the shack, then travel with my family aged 11, then 5 months with Dad aged 15, and my own adventures since.
That there is The Shack at Point Turton, and it holds some of my most precious memories.
If you navigate the map downwards (south) of those buildings, you can see a dark brown area of land – ‘the swamp’ – which we, as a handful of kids, used to explore and trek and play in. It was full of twisted trees and sheep bones and little mystery hideouts. We clambered through barbed wire fences and felt a sense of wonder at the world, but also what I can only describe as naturalness at being there, a state that can only be achieved when the journey is not about achieving ‘place x’ but simply to see what’s there.
OK, this is garbled and long, but it has planted a more determined seed than the existing one inside me which chatters away, vaguely telling me to ‘see more of the world’. It might not be tomorrow, it might not be this year, but… watch this space.
