In December 2012, I left my job in a law firm in the City of London with a plane ticket to Bangkok, a backpack and a vague idea of travelling round the world. I planned to be away for three months, but three became four and four became six; and by the time I eventually got home, I realised I was not yet ready to go back to corporate life. So I didn’t. I went back on the road again.
I have travelled on all the inhabited continents, by bus, by train, by boat, by plane; and slept in the poky berths of sailing boats, shared dorms with snoring, farting strangers, and cheap hotels with scuttling creatures, and camped in African national parks with lions roaring, baboons barking and hyenas laughing all around me.
I have mountain-biked down the World’s Most Dangerous Road, and quad biked through the Namib Desert. I was on Ko Pha Ngan for the Full Moon Party, and in Tokyo for the cherry blossoms. I have stroked tigers, held a koala and walked to within feet of wild rhino. I have been drenched by the spray at Victoria Falls and looked into the Grand Canyon from the edge of an outcrop. I have hiked the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu and seen Angkor Wat at sunrise.
I have eaten ceviche in Peru, pho in Vietnam, and mopane worms in Zimbabwe.
There have been frustrations and disappointments and worse on the way. I have been scammed, robbed and caught in two separate riots. But the highs outnumber the lows.