The Story Begins

April 19th, 2013

Some months ago I had an idea to ride a motorcycle across Asia. I thought up plans, drew up logistics, and created reasons both for and against the trip. Some of those thoughts convinced me take certain actions. My brain continued to produce thoughts about the trip. I turned some of those thoughts into actions too. Eventually, a sufficient number of thoughts got converted into a sufficient number of actions. Suddenly, my idea existed in reality. It was tangible.

In late March I sat astride the motorcycle purchased for the trip for the first time. I had committed myself to an idea that had jumped out of my head and into reality. I was sitting on it.

I think the trip will take about a year. I have been blogging about my trip to Myanmar, which was not part of the overall trip. That was a test trip. I passed! After Myanmar, I returned to Thailand and bought a 2003 Honda Africa Twin to begin my larger trip. It is a big bike. Its heavy and powerful. It came with lockable aluminum boxes on either side to hold my stuff. I tied my existing suitcase to the back.

I bought all of the proper safety gear: gloves, a quality helmet, and padded riding gear made of textiles specially designed to prevent your skin from being peeled off by asphalt should you crash at high speed. I hope that doesn’t happen.

The pants and jacket are warm, which was helpful on my first day. I rode from Chaing Mai, Thailand to the Lao border. It was cold morning when I left the hills of northern Thailand. By the time I was on the ferry crossing the border into Laos it was 90 degrees and humid. I’ve been sweating a lot.

The ferry ride would be brief, about 15 minutes I was told. The ferry was a long plank, perhaps twenty by ten meters with knee high sides. I dropped the bike getting on the ferry, and an attendant helped me get it upright. I was parked at the rear, a mouse surrounded by elephantine 18-wheelers. Soon after leaving the riverbank of Thailand, I was bombarded by enormous realizations.

I was sweltering on the ferry, still recovering from picking up the bike. I realized had no clear idea of what I was getting myself into. I had hoped to do some sort of project on happiness across cultures during the trip. Happiness research intrigues me, and I wanted to help bring its findings to life. Involvement in larger projects fell through, though I still think about happiness all the time. Its why I named the blog what I did.

I wished for a concrete reason to dive a motorcycle so far. I racked my brain, and discovered that I didn’t seem to have one. My thoughts continued to swirl. I had never ridden a motorcycle so heavy, so cumbersome, so hard to control in tight spaces. The dry weight of the bike was 450 lbs. Full of gas and gear it weighed closer to 550 lbs. That could prove difficult at times. I was no mechanic either. Sooner or later something would go wrong, and I’d have to learn fast. There were numerous logistical hurdles to be dealt with too; things I would need to arrange soon.

I shed thin layers of worry only to arrive at a core of deep seeded fear. Whatever I uncovered was dense and dark. It gave me shivers. I imagined the future of my trip. The roads of India, Nepal, Pakistan, Kazakhstan, Turkey, and many other countries lay ahead. I was overcome with contemplation of death and serious injury.

Evidently, I was no pro on my bike. What if I ran it off a steep cliff, or got blindsided by a maniacal Nepali truck, or met a distracted Indian bus head on? My only comfort was that these incidents would mean instant annihilation. However, I could still get squished at low speed, or run into a scooter, or simply fall off and horribly injure myself. My most damning realization was still that l had no reason to do the trip.

I had already travelled around much of the world. Was I simply an addicted to travel? Had I really committed myself to spend a year, risk my life, and waste my money, for no particular reason? I became momentarily unhinged, blown around by a torrent of horrible thoughts. I felt dizzy. I decided to take my first photos of the trip.  

Safety is my number one priority, but that doesn’t mean mistakes and accidents won’t happen. There are real risks involved. Any accident is likely to be grave and ugly. I’m currently a month into the trip, and I’ve already had some uncomfortable moments. The roads in Laos and Cambodia are mild in comparison to what lies ahead. However, I’ve only been jostled by contemplating the enormity of this trip, and the direction in which I’m taking my life, on that one occasion.  

In the short month that has passed, most of my experiences have been richly rewarding. Maybe that’s reason enough for the whole trip. I’ve got no career path to speak of. I never graduated from college. Maybe all of that can wait. Maybe now is the perfect time for this trip. I love travelling. I love being lost is the great mystery. Life is so much more than career paths and a formal education. Life is brutal, wretched, crude, and utterly sublime. There are over seven thousand million people currently trying to manage the mystery. What a show! It’s such a beautiful struggle.

In the end, I’m doing what I love most. Travel yields frequent lessons on what it means to live a human life. Gradually, they’ve changed the way I view the world and how I approach life. Travel has shaped who I am, and I’m sure it will continue to do so. I’ve learned that there is no one right answer. Life is a song, and right now I’m dancing my dance. I wouldn’t have it any other way.