Get lost they said... who knew it would be so hard. Our initiation into getting purposefully lost is leading us across the swampy flat lands from Houston to New Orleans under the gruel of the late summer sun. We need help, we need reassurance and most importantly we need water!
Last year we returned from another bike tour, but this one was different, this one was ‘our brilliant fail’. As always we had meticulously planned and prepared with the intent of riding south to north through South Australia.
So there we were, about to board when those dulcet tones, ubiquitous of every airport intercom with its all care and no responsibility calm warmly reassuring our already anxious crowd of the carnage to come.“Good morning everyone, I’m sorry to inform you that your flight to Adelaide has been cancelled, have a nice day”.
Her quiet calm immediately replaced with chaos, as the crowd scrambled for alternatives. After racing connecting flights over two countries we eventually reached our trailhead, but alas our bikes had not.
It was ‘our brilliant fail’ because all was lost. Our bikes were lost, our plan was lost and more importantly, we were lost. But we also gained the best adventure in the losing. We travelled for days with no idea where we were going. Travelling without a plan or a clue soon became our credo. Because to get lost we had to remain clueless.
So here I sit twelve months later pressed between two bulky blokes, occupying the middle seat somewhere over the Pacific. Ahead of us our trail head of Houston and the beginnings of our first unplanned adventure. Our first Clueless Trail. We‘re about to get intentionally lost.