Cycling to Kenya. Part 1. Crossing No Mans Land.
I roamed from pub to party until I'd forgotten how to do much else. I looked to memories from 'back in the day' sitting on the swings in my trackies and proudly telling my mates that one day I would travel the world , and I really believed I would. But years plodded on and nothing happened, life was plain and I had to do something about it. I had no qualifications, no skills, no experience and no money. But, I did have a bicycle and the road wasn't asking for a CV. Felt pen lines ran across the world map on my wall, until eventually, for some reason, cycling to Kenya looked like the right idea. It looked far enough away that to get there would take a proper adventure, but close enough that maybe, one day, I might actually make it. I worked in a sad petrol station and stared out at the forecourt for months during late shifts in a glazed dream of the open road. My savings grew and eventually the day came when it was time to leave. Four panniers stuff
