Go carefully!

On the helplessness of the spectator

Hello friends,

I hope you’re well and (if you’re in the northern hemisphere), coping with the winding down of the year, the long nights, and irresistible urge to hibernate.

This month’s advice column isn’t based on a letter someone sent in – it came out of a discussion we had after the talk I gave last week, to the New Forest Off Road Club (and friends) in Bournemouth. A parent talked about the anxiety she feels when her offspring is off in the mountains on her bike. The rider in question was also present, and admitted to feeling impeded by their mother’s concerns, and wishing that she could celebrate their achievements and encourage them more, rather than trying to stop them.

This is a problem to which I’ve become more and more sympathetic over the years. When I first started cycling very long distances (and camping en route) I spent a lot of time thinking about risk and danger. In fact, I still do. And this was mainly because it seems to be uppermost in everyone else’s mind – when people hear what I’ve done, or am planning to do, they either try to stop or warn me, or they praise me extravagantly for my bravery. And I’ve discovered that it’s extremely difficult to assess how dangerous a place, activity, plan or person is – and especially to separate out the real risks from our very subjective fears.

Here I am, on the 1st of September 2011, about to set off to cycle round the world

Before I set off to cycle round the world in 2011, I had become firmly convinced that what I was about to do would be almost constantly scary, and that I would have to remain on high alert to protect myself from all of the threats that lay ahead.