LONDON. —With his journey almost complete, Karl Bushby reflects on adventures that have taken him across four continents, as well as strained relationships and how life as he knows it is about to change dramatically.
Back in 1998, the former paratrooper, then aged 29, set off from Punta Arenas, Chile, to walk an unbroken path to his home city of Hull, without breaking two self-imposed rules: not to return to the UK until he had completed his journey, and not to use transport to advance.
Now 57, he is embarking on his final few miles having hacked his way through the jungles of the Darién Gap, crossed the frozen Bering Strait and, just a few weeks ago, swum the English Channel.
At the end, he will be met by his 36-year-old son Adam, a 12-year-old granddaughter whom he has never met, his father and brothers. His mother will be waiting at his childhood home that he left 28 years ago.
“We’re definitely in terra incognita (unknown territory) right now, or pretty soon will be,” says Bushby, as I join him in rural Lincolnshire.
“Right now, I’m comfortable because I’m doing what I do, but pretty soon that’s going to screech to a halt.”
A bit like “The Beast”, Bushby’s heavy duty hardcart. Just a couple of miles into this leg, Bushby’s handcart, which he uses to carry essential supplies, sustains a puncture.
“We haven’t had one of these for a long time,” he says. “This could be a pain. Damn.”
As I watch him attempt a hasty roadside repair, he flashes a grin before adding: “If it was raining, I’d probably be moaning a bit more.”
“The first few days that I was in Dover, it started raining. But we’d managed to just thread the needle as far as the weather was concerned. We had those perfect three days [for the swim].”
Cars thunder past us.
Bushby quips: “You guys know you drive on the wrong side of the road, right?”
His use of the word “you” speaks of his disconnection from home.
Bushby is well versed in overcoming physical barriers, such as a flat tyre.
But is he prepared for what is to follow? “Everything that I am and everything that I know of me is going to go away,” he says. “And that’s going to be a problem. You’re going to have the old identity crisis, because Karl is this (an adventurer) and has been for half his life.
“I will have to figure out who I am again. What is the meaning to it all? How do I find that meaning and purpose? How do I fill that hole I’m suddenly going to find myself in?
“Every fibre of my being, every day, has been what I’m doing right now. It has been the mission.
“I think the old adage goes… the only thing worse than a man who can’t fulfil his dreams is a man who’s fulfilled his dreams… because then what?”
Angela Maxwell, an American long-distance walker, joined him for the walk from Dover, where he landed after swimming the Channel.
“I think Karl might be surprised how much he’ll miss the road,” she says. “We joke sometimes that Karl doesn’t love walking. But he loves the mission. He loves the passion, the purpose.”
Bushby has been surprised by the interest his return to the UK has stoked.
“It’s been almost overwhelming. The amount of people that have recognised me along the way. It’s cool. It gets a bit weird at times when people get really, really excited, and I just can’t work out why. From my perspective, it just seems a little strange.
“I’m some guy who’s just walking.”
A car pulls into a lay-by and the driver asks if he is the Karl Bushby. The men pose for a selfie.
Bushby has consistently denied this is a spiritual undertaking; a journey of discovery.
But does he think the global interest in his story stems from an inner wanderlust present in many of us, but acted upon by few?
“I think that’s it,” he says.
“I’ve lived a million men’s dreams. A lot of people would love to walk away from home and just keep going.”
Bushby says his “opportunity to walk” came following the end of his marriage, with his wife returning to Northern Ireland with their son.
The reality of life on the road is not as rosy as it might first appear, it seems.
“I’m dealing with the day-to-day stuff — punctures, just trying to find a place where you can wash your underwear. That’s my life. That’s the mundane stuff, walking in the rain, it’s never-ending kilometres.
“It’s not as glorious as it looks.”
Bushby says he has only spent about 15 of the 28 years walking, often retreating to Mexico, where costs are low, between stints.
The remainder of the time has been spent applying for visas and “dealing with geopolitics”, he says.
Travel restrictions during the Covid-19 pandemic also resulted in delays.
Under the rules he set for his journey, Bushby could not return to the UK to meet his family.
On rare occasions, he met his son and parents, who are divorced, in other countries.
“Family is family, right?” says Bushby.
“They’re always going to be there. But there will be strain. There will be distance. So much so that you’ve grown apart to some degree. You don’t really know each other anymore.
“As far as a love life goes, standby. You’re going to take a kick in the nuts. It’s not going to work out for you.”
Soon after arriving in Dover, he tasted fish, chips and mushy peas for the first time in almost three decades. — BBC
