Lewis and Clark. Marco Polo. Earnest Shackleton.

I don’t think my name will ever be on the same list as these people. For example, I’ll never publish an advertisement in the paper like Earnest did: “Men wanted for hazardous journey, small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger. Safe return doubtful, honor and recognition in event of success.”

But I can’t put my finger on it. Something about the way I imagined their days looked like made sense to me. Walking over the crest of a mountain ridge to see a verdant green valley studded with trees and a river winding through. Or endless white tundra as far as the eye can see, the bright sun doing little to warm the frigid air. Unknown beauties of the world laid out in front of your eyes, those eyes now part of a very exclusive club of eyeballs that have seen this sight. The thoughts filled me with longing to have a life like that. One with scenes and struggles worth remembering. With constant learning. Constant wonder and amazement. I don’t know. It makes sense to me. Seems right in a way.

From deciding one day that I should quit my job in corporate finance and walk across the United States, to succeeding and now working on a walk across the European continent, I’ve finally decided that a life as an explorer in the modern age might not be the easiest way to subsist, but it’s the only one I can imagine will keep me going happily along my way. I believe that’s all what we’re really after anyway.