The word epic is so overused these days. People say “oh, I had an epic night” or, “my holiday to Paris was so epic”. For me, unless you’re Fievel and you’re going west, it probably isn’t close to epic. When I started travelling, I did so with the intention of embarking on a real epic. After 4 years on the road, I found myself still needing that crazy adventure that is worth writing stories about, telling your grandkids about, and maybe even bragging a bit over a pint in a pub. My African scooter journey was that epic I had been chasing.
The funny thing about an epic though, is that no one can really relate. You go through a whirlwind of change, and overcome so much. You have to persevere things that people can’t ever understand. An epic is something you want nothing more to share with the world until it’s over. Afterwards, you feel like balling it up inside and keeping it to yourself because no one can appreciate it the way you do, no matter how hard they may want to.
My arrival in Cape Town may seem anti-climatic on this video. It might seem like I took it in stride, despite the food poisoning I got on my last day. But there is no footage of me screaming into my helmet for joy, there is no video of me handing the keys of Anne Murray over to the new owner, there is certainly no shots of me standing in the shower at the Mount Nelson Hotel with my head in my arms somewhere between laughter and tears. No one can really understand the pride in the accomplishment, or the emptiness of the end.
My African scooter epic was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, period. And the end of this journey left me with a big hole that I am still trying to understand to this day.
This episode is the last of my life on the scooter in Africa, but there is plenty more to come, and where this crazy journey takes me now, I guess no one can really know for sure.