When most people talk about bike-packing, including the books I was raised on, their tales are often full of sketchy camp spots, close-calls with unsavoury animals/people and living on a diet of watery oats and plain pasta.
I eluded to this in my last blog, but of late, I have been wrestling with an inner conflict.
Where the incredible hospitality and comfort we have been experiencing in the Balkans has left me feeling a little bit like a fraud at times.
It took me years to conquer imposter syndrome in my rugby career. I feel I am now experiencing somewhat of a relapse during my bikepacking escapades.
Yes, we are still cycling for 8-10 hours each day on a 40 kilo bicycle.
We’ve still had the nights of waking up with our tent 6 inches underwater.
Of sleeping in a children’s playground eating sardine sandwiches at 10pm.
Being chased by 5 wild dogs whilst they bite my panniers in Greece.
But then we had a week off with my parents in Corfu in a 5 star hotel…
Whilst I must add that this was all thanks to the ridiculous generosity of the hotel (The Apollo Palace) who hosted us for literally 7 nights for free, I still have that nagging feeling in the back of my head that I am not a real adventurer.
We always knew Europe was going to be the most familiar leg of the trip. With accessibility to water, food, accommodation and general western comforts at every turn.
I started to really think that despite us still doing the thing that we said we were going to do, I was not hardcore enough to say I had really cycled across Europe.
Of course, a lot of this notion exists purely inside my own head.
After wonderful family time, followed by a very steady 500km through the Greek mainland, from Parga to Ancient Corinth, Island hopping to Salamina and into Athens, I have had time to reflect upon my feelings of inferiority.
I am reminded that this is our adventure and it is completely unique to us.
That “Any idiot can be cold, wet and hungry”.
It is our story and I am falling in love with telling it.
Genuinely how lucky are we to call this life for the next year?
From writing blogs from Cypriot cafes to trading tales with other travellers on the roadside to dodging snakes and Croatian wolves.
Wrapping them all up in silly little films and sharing our story to anyone that will listen!
I also know that there is a highly likelihood that higher levels of discomfort will be on the horizon.
Naturally, with the culture shocks of leaving Europe, the chaos of flying into New Delhi, the extreme humidity of Asia, the monotony of the Nullarbor straight and winter in New Zealand.
So it is important to remind myself not to wish my life away and fantasise about tougher times. Especially when that pressure to be “hardcore” is only a self-inflicted one.
I like to think of myself as relatively strong-willed and capable of delayed gratification, but it also seems ridiculous to turn down the generosity of the incredible people we have met to go and sleep in a bush simply for the sake of it.
So it is this realisation, that ‘all of this is okay’, that has finally left me with an overriding sense of calm the last few days.
As our European leg comes to a close, I am filled with immense pride and gratitude that we got to experience this continent in our own very special way, and it will be a chapter in a much bigger book.
To have also shed some light on the amazing work that Sport Parkinson’s do and raised nearly £15,000 for the Parkinson’s community reminds us that although we’re not perfect, the support of friends, family, strangers has between is truly unwavering, and we are humbled by this every day.
That although we’re the lucky ones that get to do the pedalling and endure the saddle sores - this is not all about us, and it really is a privilege to share it with you.
My goal for the next leg is to be brave and push my own limits in a different way I didn’t really know I needed to.
And to stop trying to prove I’m an adventurer and just be one.
