Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
After finishing the noodles, I put on some warm clothes, rested my head on the
bike, and let my eyes drift with the dimming sky. I wondered what Chris was think-
ing at that moment.
Although we had been travelling together for over a year, the fact remained
that we were very different people. As individuals riding bikes we had lived par-
allel lives, but for much of the time it had been a solitary journey. It wasn't like a
rowboat, where the hardship is split among several rowers; we had to ride every
inch alone, and come up with the motivation and energy by ourselves; we battled
through mental turmoil of different kinds.
Now that it was all winding down, were our parallel lines diverging and leaving
nothing but memories?
As staunchly independent people, our relationship had never been one of de-
pendence. Nor had it been reliant on us agreeing with everything the other thought.
Beneath our conflicts and differences was surely something stronger than just a
wish to 'see it through'. For even below the differences, at a grassroots level, we
shared a lust for life and a will to be the best we could. We had convinced each
other that living out a childhood dream was possible, and that in the end, we only
needed permission from ourselves to do what we wanted. It hadn't been easy, but
life wasn't supposed to be.
Our differences had also been our strengths. It had given us the opportunity
to feed off each other and grow as individuals. Alone on that terrace, I suddenly
missed him.
I had fallen into such a reverie that it took several seconds for me to react to the
black couch on wheels that went whizzing by. 'Chrriiiiiiiiis!' I screamed.
He returned, panting heavily. Even in the dark I sensed that his smile reflected
my own.
'You silly bastard!' I giggled.
———
Early next morning the road was littered with patches of ice. The air was biting
cold under a clear sky and even with Gore-tex mittens for socks, my toes began to
freeze. I found it fitting that we had almost come full circle since being dragged off
the street with frostbite in Babushkina. Once again, birch trees in Russia would be
blazing with colour, leaves ready to drop.
Upon arriving at the peak of our first high mountain pass for the day, I set up
the video camera on the bike to film us going down the other side. Then, releas-
