The Finish Line
My last night in the tent was hot, damp and uncomfortable but I was still happy with my decision and wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I consciously rolled up the tent for the last time knowing it would either be in Ireland or NZ before it was pitched again. I was on the road by 6.30am and according to my calculations, I estimated I would be at the Forbidden City gates by 3pm covering and now relatively easy 36km. As I looked at the jumble of numerous road junctions that lay ahead of me on the map I hoped that penetrating the city centre was going to be easier than it appeared. Fortunately the motorway into the city had a smaller byroad running parallel to it to accommodate the countless motorbikes, scooters and bicycles, giving me a safer road to walk. Even though the road was boring and monotonous (I've never been a fan of cities), the hours flew by, partly sped up by the excitement of finishing the trek. Originally I had thought the entire trip would take 1300km, but with the route I had finally settled on, coupled with all the detours I took, I was now looking at having covered over 1500 kilometers. A feat that at one point I thought I could never have achieved.
The last 10km was entertaining for both myself and for those who I passed. I decided to tie on my Irish flag over my gear for the craic which also drew a bit more attention – it being the cleanest newest looking item I now owned. The magnitude of the day began to dawn on me the further I walked. This was it, I was on the home run. A strange mix of emotions were starting to flow through me as I daydreamed about where I had been, and what it would be like to be finished. Happiness, sadness, relief, disapointment and a myriad of other emotions started bubbling up in me, but the main feeling was of joy. I was looking forward to the future, to what ever it was going to hold, knowing that after the last two months I had proven to myself that I can overcome any obstacle once I put my mind to it. This feeling showed on my face as I grinned like a Cheshire cat.
These happy feelings helped subdue what would have been an otherwise stressful walk navigating one on the busiest cities in the word with a 6 ft cart behind me. My GPS led me effortlessly to the western side of the Forbidden City walls. From here I walked southwards to the gates of the Forbidden City. The police stationed at every door and entrance seemed unphased at the sight of me. The throngs of people who walked the sidewalk occasionally stopping to look at me as I marched down the road on the quiter cycling lane that followed the perimeter of the ancient grounds. As I turned the corner to reach the front of the Forbidden City main entrance, I was shocked to see the crowds of people and how much fencing and security was present. I quickly realised that this may not have been one of my greatest ideas but hell to it, I was here now so I might as well give it a go.
I started making my way through the crowds toward the main gate but didn’t get very far when I was cornered by two serious policemen who did not seemed very impressed to have a hairy wild looking fella pulling a suspicious looking cart behind him (with big black box and foreign flag tied to it) towards their national treasure. I chanced my arm and told them where I wanted to go to which they replied a flat no. Fair enough I thought, and I was not foolish enough to cause a scene where armed soldiers with machine guns were stationed not far away. I asked the best way to get to my hostel, which required me taking my last and annoyingly long detour south of Mao Ze Dongs Mausoleum.
I started making my way through the crowds toward the main gate but didn’t get very far when I was cornered by two serious policemen who did not seemed very impressed to have a hairy wild looking fella pulling a suspicious looking cart behind him (with big black box and foreign flag tied to it) towards their national treasure. I chanced my arm and told them where I wanted to go to which they replied a flat no. Fair enough I thought, and I was not foolish enough to cause a scene where armed soldiers with machine guns were stationed not far away. I asked the best way to get to my hostel, which required me taking my last and annoyingly long detour south of Mao Ze Dongs Mausoleum.
At first I felt a little disappointed not to get the photo I had hoped for ( me and the cart standing triumphantly in front of the City Gates). I quickly let it pass. At the end of the day, the trip was never about photos, or reaching a particular place. It was about the journey, what I would learn, see and experience. For me, the hostel was as good a place as any to finish. I made my way along the last few kilometers until I reached the Hutong alleys where my hostel was located.
In a quite little lane among the old alleys of Beijing, I pulled up outside my quaint little hostel and slipped out of the harness for the last time. A couple of backpackers who were at the hostel stopped to ask where I had come from to which I gave them a quick summary of how I spent my last 2 months. When they left, apparently stunned at my antics, I turned and hung my head into the harness and I smiled to myself. At that moment I realised that no matter how many times I tell the story, write it down, share pictures or try to explain it, I would never be able to fully portray the magic that I felt within from the last 2 months on the road, but that's OK. The joy of seeing such beautiful lands and the humbling honour of meeting some of the kindest, generous and friendliest people in the world has been the best reward I could have ever wanted. In a way, I set out to learn more about myself, but it was by way of meeting those amazing characters on my adventure that I really got to know who I am and who I want to be.
And to those who ask me what it was like? I will tell them, go find a comfortable pair of shoes, put one foot in front of the other and you can find out for yourself!
In a quite little lane among the old alleys of Beijing, I pulled up outside my quaint little hostel and slipped out of the harness for the last time. A couple of backpackers who were at the hostel stopped to ask where I had come from to which I gave them a quick summary of how I spent my last 2 months. When they left, apparently stunned at my antics, I turned and hung my head into the harness and I smiled to myself. At that moment I realised that no matter how many times I tell the story, write it down, share pictures or try to explain it, I would never be able to fully portray the magic that I felt within from the last 2 months on the road, but that's OK. The joy of seeing such beautiful lands and the humbling honour of meeting some of the kindest, generous and friendliest people in the world has been the best reward I could have ever wanted. In a way, I set out to learn more about myself, but it was by way of meeting those amazing characters on my adventure that I really got to know who I am and who I want to be.
And to those who ask me what it was like? I will tell them, go find a comfortable pair of shoes, put one foot in front of the other and you can find out for yourself!