Land’s End to John O’Groats by Moped, May 1987: Epilogue

AFTER THOUGHTS – AN EPILOGUE

(See here for the first entry in this series)

Why have I done such a masochistic trip, similar in ways to the French-Spanish trip last year? I could have carried on with my routine monotonous existence, but it would seem, we need to get out of the rut now and then, even if it is to go off and lay in the sun in Spain and be away from the laid-on comforts of home surroundings and really appreciate them upon return. In this case, the self inflicted deprivations of such a marathon, seem to set out to prove to one’s self that such a task is possible – to face the uncertain events that lay on the journey and to overcome the pitfalls, the hazards, the fatigue – to complete such a task, as a personal achievement is ample satisfaction. To talk about it to other later, they cannot be expect to understand the reasons why or even bother to think about it, other than to express a passing convenient remark like ‘rather you than I’.

Some fellow travellers and waysiders, whom I did exchange a few words with on the way and those who helped me, not alone made such a pilgrimage memorable, they truly restore one’s faith in the fellowship of mankind, they understood. One such person for example, was the ‘Hells Angels’ biker who saw me pushing the bike because I had run out of fuel. He slowed down and whizzed pass me, only to return with a full can of petrol. Having thanked him for his kind gesture, I asked him how much I owed him – ‘pass it on’ he said. That is something I will never forget.

I would not advise anyone to attempt the as I did but one the contrary, the satisfaction of this achievement (if you can call it that) is a very personal thing. It is something I will store in my memory-bank – in my personality it may not show, but my conversation at times may recall and I hope not to bore the listener or incidents along the way. I shall never do such a trip again. Amen.

(Post Script – this trip proved the be the maiden voyage of eight such trips that continued until Dermot was 86 years old. He celebrated in 89th birthday hitch-hiking across Canada from Toronto to Edmonton, with only his trusty tent and rucksack as his companions.)

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