Leaving on a jet plane - my last look at Cozumel: looking South down Cozumel, the good diving is on the right side (Day 238)

Leaving on a jet plane – my last look at Cozumel: looking South down Cozumel, the good diving is on the right side (Day 238)

Alberto offered to give me a lift to the airport, which was really great of him. We chucked the boxed-up Stef in the back of the clapped-out Chevy and I was careful where I put my pannier bags. There’s a hole the size of a large suitcase on the rear left of the Chevy’s floor, Alberto reminds me not to put anything there or it will wind up on the road. We parted ways with a hug, I’m gonna miss Alberto and his clapped-out Chevy.

The airline was fine about taking the bike, for an extra sixty dollars. They wouldn’t let me take the bicycle lock for some reason. The plane made a wide arc across the island so it was possible to see the reefs I’d been diving on over the past month. I’m gonna miss Cozumel.

Everything always looks good from the air.

I dropped back down into the polluted hustle and bustle of Mexico city. Perla had made the effort to come out and meet me, it was great to see her and sad to say goodbye again.

Flew into the hustle and bustle of another city, Los Angeles. For an airport at midnight, it was crazily busy. I got through immigration quickly but it took me well over an hour to get my luggage re-scanned and to check in. The LAX staff were bitter and miserable, I’ll be glad if I never have to travel through LAX again.

Landing in Mexico D.F. on a not so clear day (Day 238)

Landing in Mexico D.F. on a not so clear day (Day 238)



Today didn’t exist for me, I lost it at some point over the Pacific, probably during the three or four hours of sleep I managed on the way to Taipei.


I arrived in Singapore with plans to meet up with a friend, but of course I’d given them the wrong day, the day that didn’t exist for me. I took the free city tour just to get some sun on my face.

Flew into Perth just before midnight, almost two days after I checked in at Cozumel. Stef showed up on the baggage conveyor twenty minutes later, without a scratch.

I don’t know how I should end this, so I won’t even try. I was expecting myself to have some sort of insight or maybe feel a little enlightened but nothing. I am, however, feeling the happiest and most relaxed I can ever remember feeling. Happiness is all relative anyway. Happiness can be living in a place you love. Happiness can be grinding your own coffee beans in the morning before you brew that kick-arse wake up drink.

Happiness for me probably has a lot to do with good wine and not rushing about lots. It’s been good to slow down for a while. I’d sort of thought of this trip as kind of like dropping out of life for a while; no watching bad news on TV, no job, just the basics; food, water and shelter. Simplify my life. But in a way I think I’ve gotten closer to life; I’ve had time to see the things that I’d normally not notice. I’ve learnt about trusting my own instincts more often, having more faith in my own abilities, and having faith in the kindness of strangers. It’s been good to not have a battle plan, just to go out there and make it up as I go along. It’s been good to have a soundtrack to my restlessness, a bunch of songs that have become more important to me as time goes along. It’s been good to give a few good woohoos on those long downhills.

Will I still be able to have kids after spending so much time on the bicycle?

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