There was a time, back when I cycled through the hills of Bavaria and along the banks of the Danube, when I wondered “why isn’t anyone paying me attention? I’m riding a tandem, by myself, and it’s bloody pink and blue!” Surely I must be an unusual sight? 

Truly, such was the absence of waves, greetings, or even raised eyebrows, one would have thought pink tandems passed through Germany every day. 

I remember my excitement when cycling through Croatia when people started waving and calling after us. Finally I was making my mark. 

It only goes to show that human nature is forever unsatisfied that now I wish for less attention. During the past several months I have spent cycling through the Caucasus and Central Asia, horn honking, waving, friendly shouts and people wanting to chat at first exhilarated me, but eventually, it has worn me down. 

This might sound surprising, ungrateful, even wrong to say, but it’s how I feel right now. It can feel tiring to wave at a car that has given a friendly honk, but the next second will pass from my life. It is also tiring to feel bad for not waving! There has been a huge amount of goodwill towards me and everyone who has joined me these past few months, however, repeated roadside interactions that range from a couple of seconds to a minute or two have left me somewhat drained. As I was cycling the final stretch of road to Osh, there were many times I didn’t wave back to a car honk. There had simply been so many and raising my arm once more felt like a distraction. 

There are only so many times I feel excited to talk about my ride and answer the same – completely understandable – questions: “where are you going?”; “where are you coming from?”; “how long have you been cycling?” I try to put a lot of energy into those interactions, but with little depth or longevity to them, they end up taking a lot of energy, but without much reward. Cycling on a pink tandem creates an odd dynamic to roadside conversations. Whilst I am interested in meeting and chatting with Kyrgyz people, I don’t want to do this all the time. Yet, I am a point of curiosity at nearly every place I stop and so people come to chat. 

Sometimes my batteries are low, and I’m not really looking for a conversation, but they often happen anyway. What is worrying is that conversation then becomes one-sided: all the questions come from their end, and I give short answers. It makes me a lazy conversationalist and can lead to a mindset of un-curiousness. Whilst I truly believe everyone has a story to tell, that doesn’t mean I always have the energy and interest to hear it!

In short, at this point, after one year on the road, I now struggle to appreciate one of the things that makes this ride – and any travel – rewarding: communicating and connecting with people from around the world. 

I now want to recharge my batteries and avoid talking to people for a while! It’s a clear sign I need a break, because right now I am not making the most of the incredible opportunities around me, and nor am I able to give my best self to these encounters. 

I think this is a really important topic to write about. Travelling can be tiring, as can being a focus of attention. I feel incredibly fortunate to have travelled so far and met so many wonderful people, and to have been a source of curiosity and (hopefully) inspiration for many. But this doesn’t mean I am willing or able to do it indefinitely. 

I feel very lucky to be able to take a break, and – if the motivation is there – to restart the trip after spending time with family, friends and loved ones. I am very fortunate to be able to restart after a pause. 

It’s also worth restating the reason I set out on this trip. It wasn’t to set records. It wasn’t to prove anything to myself. It wasn’t even to reach Beijing. 

I decided to set off on a cycle expedition across Eurasia because, for me, it was the way I felt I could live most richly and fully. This became my guiding mantra following my diagnosis with cancer. What this will look like will be different for each person. But for me that vision involved exercise, new people, new places and new cultures. 

However, a rich and full life does not always look like a tandem bike adventure to me. During my treatment, I came to realise friends and family were much more important than I previously thought. These bonds really matter, and in Central Asia, people really live this out – groups of guys, such as the Osh running and cycling group, meeting every week for plov or shashlik. And I haven’t seen many of my loved ones for over a year. It’s about time. 

And if I wasn’t able to carry on? If this was it? If I only had one year, now elapsed, would I have wanted to do things differently? 

Definitely not. I have loved travelling at a relaxed, unplanned place. Not knowing where I will spend tomorrow night – maybe in my tent, maybe with a friendly Kazakh, maybe at service station, in a hotel, or with old friends. I have had the time to meet thousands of people, share my story and message with many of them, and be briefly included into the fabric of many countries and families. One thing I want to do better in future is relax a bit more into the journey. By my nature, I want to write, film, record podcasts and talk to groups. This is mostly fun and rewarding, but I also need to let go quicker when it doesn’t all work out – as it rarely does. 

After a break, I hope I’ll be ready and invigorated for the second half of the ride – with the challenges and opportunities that will come with it. Given China’s closed borders, the Covid situation in India and the Taliban takeover in Afghanistan, it won’t be straightforward. 

This isn’t a neat story, or simple message. This ride is not “man-cycles-in-one-go-to-Beijing”. There are no record-breaking headlines. There is no clear challenge that I am trying to overcome, or point I’m proving. 

But you know what? Life isn’t neat, straightforward, or easily packaged. It’s messy and complex. And that’s ok – in fact it’s inevitable, so it’s not worth worrying about! Circumstances change, we change, people around us change. It’s always worth reassessing the situation and seeing what course of action makes most sense. 

Did I think I would take a break halfway through? No. Did I think it would take me one year to cycle to Kyrgyzstan? Also no. Do I care about more than this expedition? Absolutely. 

I’m off to see my Mum now. 

I’ll see you soon.