Every tunnel is always the worst. The very moment I see it from afar, my heart sinks. I fumble for my phone and stare at the map, trying to find a way around. There seems to be a small road over the mountain. I try to take it, but it’s a dead end. There are trees everywhere.
Haha, laugh the trees. You thought you could outmanoeuvre our tunnel, didn’t you? Haha ha!
I put on my reflective vest and my head torch, then I bore my way into the mountain, through the tunnel. The Caboose hates it. Why haven’t I planned everything better, she wants to know. Why do I always let the tunnels take me by surprise?
I don’t know what to say. Of course I try to work with the map sometimes. I have marked a bunch of ögretmenevi from here to Samsun. Sometimes I check if there is a restaurant or a shop on our way. But I’m just not very good at methodically planning things.
Also, I like the element of surprise.
I enjoy it when landscapes change and people randomly appear. Like the corn that has been laid out to dry, just like back in China. Like Remzy, the old gentleman who gave me a fragrant twig. Or like Emirkhan, the young biker who was visibly proud of his motorcycle.
And besides, even if I sometimes don’t care for it, the element of surprise has always been an integral part of The Longest Way.
I am thinking of shanty-singing, princess-seducing, ship-burning Sea Hawk when I ask myself: if I knew everything beforehand, would it still be an ADVENTURE?