Karl Bushby

For those folk who are unfamiliar with the name Karl Bushby, ex-paratrooper Karl hails from Hull.

For over ten years he has been on the road in a world record-breaking attempt to walk all the way back to the UK from the southern tip of South America: a breathtaking journey of approximately 36,000 miles, over four continents, through twenty-five countries, and through six deserts and over seven mountain ranges.

Determined to leave an unbroken trail of footprints all the way from Patagonia, Karl's remarkable progress has so far got him into Russia. Unfortunately, due to a mixture of bureaucracy and climatic factors, at the moment he is only able to walk for three months per year when the rivers freeze over at the height of the Russian winter.

Refusing to head back to the UK in the down-time when he's not walking (he insists that the only way he'll return to the UK is on foot), Karl has been spending time in Mexico between expedition sessions, seeking fresh sponsorship whilst generating enough income to tide him over by doing motivational talks and educational presentations.

Having so far fought his way through some of the most challenging environments on earth, primarily in the form of The Darien Gap and The Bering Strait, Karl is certainly no stranger to finding himself ensconced in extraordinary situations.

Having kept detailed diaries of his many and varied experiences through South, Central and North America, he released a book entitled 'Giant Steps' in 2005 which served to raise the profile of his expedition to an even greater extent.

Whilst doing some travelling of his own, fellow Yorkshire vagabonder Steve Rudd recently caught up with Karl on Mexico's beautiful Pacific Coast at Melaque. Naturally, he had more than a few questions ready to fling in Karl's direction. Encouragingly, Karl responded with a barrage of no-nonsense answers that sent Steve reeling. In turns inspirational, intriguing and unflinching, what you are about to read genuinely could change your life in a beat. Without further ado, it's over to Steve and Karl - so brace yourselves...

Hi, Karl. How are things?

Struggling valiantly are the words I would choose, but I do realise that things could be a damn sight worse.

So how are things going with your Goliath Expedition and your plan to walk home to the UK from the tip of South America?

The situation could be better. I am caught in a complicated triangle of obstacles. First of all, from a financial perspective, the expedition has no sponsors and has long reached the bottom of the money barrel. Secondly, from a political perspective, new Russian visa restrictions are slowing everything down. Finally, from an environmental perspective, in regards to the complex terrain I find myself in. I currently have my ‘flag’ planted in Bilibino, far North East Russia, in the middle of the tundra above the Arctic Circle. Because of the large rivers and huge areas of wetlands, travel on foot can only be carried out in the winter months, entailing a robust and expensive logistical train. This combination of issues is causing all sorts of problems and the timing could not be worse given the current global economic glitch. Last August it looked as if we had hit the jackpot in a sponsorship agreement with a large company and a growing team of business professionals looking to get on board bringing the kind of business acumen we could certainly use. Then came the economic crisis, and everything vanished overnight. So here I am… challenged. Just the thing I thrive on, right?

You have been on the road for ten years already and you are roughly halfway in terms of mileage covered, depending of course on which route you take across Russia. Do you think that the most challenging sections of the expedition are behind you, or do you think the type of terrain, countries, people and bureaucracy that you are yet to experience could be just as challenging as anything you have so far encountered?

Theoretically speaking, the toughest and more obvious challenges with regards to terrain are behind me. Whether or not this expedition was achievable fundamentally depended on me crossing The Bering Strait. However, in learning about and understanding the nature of travel in this Northern climate, I soon realised that life beyond The Bering Strait would be no stroll in the park either. Travel will remain gruelling until I can find my way back south to the major road systems. It’s hard to imagine a world more demanding than the region I will be travelling through. Chukotka is bureaucratically top heavy, extremely remote, with very little or no infrastructure. The logistics and associated cost in a -40°C climate would be challenging for a well-financed team, let alone an individual like myself. Once out of the tundra, I expect everything to get a lot easier, including year-round travel. The further south I get, the less demanding the environment, the more substantial the infrastructure, the cheaper to live and move.

After making history by crossing the Bering Strait, you entered Russia where you immediately encountered problems with the bureaucracy. Since first wading onto dry Russian land, you have trekked approximately 1,000 miles into Russia. How have you managed this if the Russian authorities are only willing to issue a three-month visa at a time? Are they really not willing to make any exceptions whatsoever? 

You are down on the Pacific Coast of Mexico at the moment. Why exactly are you down there, and what have you been doing since your last bout of walking?

Having had to leave Russia for the fourth time, I returned - as I had on the other occasions - to Alaska. I then received a 3-month visa for the US. Once that expired I faced what we call the 'visa dance'. Remember: I cannot return to the UK. Now, with very little money, I have to find a new host country whilst attempting to organize my return trip to Russia. In this case I was lucky. A friend in Alaska was driving down to see family in Tucson, Arizona, and offered me a lift. This got me within a stone’s throw of the Mexican border. My concern at the time was to find somewhere I could hide away that was cheap. So Mexico was a good option. I then moved south down the Pacific Coast in search of an inexpensive location that I could work from. I had not been here long before the financial crash… and all my hopes and plans for a winter return to Russia went out the window. Right now I’m forced to focus on living on a dwindling bank account and finding an income while we find the support needed to get back on the ground.

When do you hope to return to where you stopped walking last time in Russia? What does being able to return depend on the most - the weather or gaining new sponsorship?

At the moment I have no idea how long this process is going to take, therefore no idea of a return date. In our three-way obstacle course it's a ‘chicken or egg’ scenario. If Moscow cuts me some slack on the visa and grants a year-long extension, then we may be able to muster the cash to organize a return trip that would be worthwhile. If they don't, then we have to find funding that can carry us for the next few years on the ‘3 months in, 3 months out’ routine. The expedition has to be in a position where we could pro-actively seek that kind of support. At present the expedition lacks the professional skills to market itself at a competitive level. In short, it would cost us money to get to the point where we could start touting for the funding we need to get back on the ground. On top of that, of course, are the seasonal factors. Winter journeys on foot through that region are extremely harsh, but in the summer months they’re impossible.

From Day One, the back-up team (my father) and I realised that Latin America would be the proving ground. Once I had provided the blood, sweat and tears, and crossed over the border into the US, then folks would see I was determined to complete this odyssey. At that point we gained credibility. I also began to gain media attention which was hugely important. Consequently, a sponsor turned up out of the blue. It’s largely to do with the target audiences of the companies concerned. As I entered their target audience they got on-board, and as I left for Russia they took a step back. From a business perspective that's understandable. That's part of the picture. Sponsorship is also utterly dependent on the financial circumstances of the company. It goes without saying that in these days of global belt-tightening, companies are going to look very closely at any form of sponsorship. The sponsorship we have had seems to have come from someone within various companies that relates to the idea of the expedition. It has never been on a formal contract basis and it has therefore been easy for the company to pull the plug as and when they wanted. However, now it's time to start thinking about new markets… those of Asia and Europe.

It's a bit of a paradox really, that at a time when the expedition is at its least visible, we are at a stage that requires a financial boost. This is being forced upon us by the remoteness and logistics required for that part of Russia. It is for this reason that we are being pushed into marketing. The expedition really needs outside help from professionals with the kind of contacts and networking abilities to move effectively in this sphere.

Did you struggle to gain sponsorship when you were walking north through the Americas, or did you pass through such countries at a time when the global economy was strong enough for various companies to be less daunted about taking a risk on you and your mind-blowing plan to walk around the world?

We had virtually no support until Panama. By then the expedition had a website and, after crossing the Darien Gap, some credibility. Our first success was gaining the support of The North Face UK, and though this was material assistance with clothing and equipment and not financial, it was a big deal for us, and luckily we still have their support. Our financial support came after I'd entered the US, from the Canadian web hosting company, SoftCom. Though not a large amount by expedition standards, it was more than adequate, as this expedition has always been run on a shoestring. However, this dried up a year or two ago. We have also had donations from people who can relate to the expedition and wish to help out, all of which goes towards keeping us afloat. One of the main sponsorship problems boils down to the fact that this expedition is way outside the type of 'box' that most company marketing teams would look at. It is unique and cannot be pigeonholed, the two main factors being the time frame and lack of celebrity. As the expedition enters Europe (and media interest rises), then we believe companies will be willing to jump on-board.

Other than trying to find new sponsorship while you are down in Mexico, what else have you been up to? Have you done any talks or presentations to educate and inspire any school groups, for example?

Right now giving presentations or telling the story is one preferable method of staying afloat. It keeps me in the right frame of mind and within the relevant subject matter, rather than waiting tables. At the moment my presentations are aimed at tourists groups here in Mexico. This involves moving with tourist season trends. See the things you get yourself into just trying to walk around the world?

How important is it for you to keep in shape while you are not walking?

It’s very important; these gaps along the way don't do one any good at all. Getting back on the ground can involve having to beat yourself back into shape in a very painful fashion if you don't keep on top of things. Once I have an idea of a return date I can work on a build-up routine. It's just as important though to make sure I don't do anything too stupid and get injured. It’s always a fear that after all it’s taken to get to this point, I could do something that would cause me problems for years or even finish the expedition there and then. But generally speaking, once back on the ground, you’ll go through what I call an initial 'Hell Week' as the body gets back into its groove.

Of all the places that you could 'return' to once the conditions turn too unfavourable in Russia for you to continue walking, why do you choose Melaque in Mexico?

Again, more by chance than design. Mexico is inexpensive, the environment favorable, and I know this culture. If you dropped me off in a small rural town anywhere in South or Central America I would feel at home, having spent years on the road here. The cultural differences here favour someone in my position. Firstly, living is comparatively cheaper, and right now that's becoming more of a priority. In Fairbanks, Alaska, it’s just not designed for someone like me. US towns and cities are designed around the drive-through principle. Everything is spread far and wide, and at -40°C, with blowing snow, it's a right royal pain. You have to eat twice as much just to stay alive. Here I have everything I need on a daily basis in a four-block radius, and it’s 28°C today. Getting stuck in the right place helps with my temperament and stress levels.

In the periods of time between bursts of walking, do you find that you look back and reflect on all the incredible experiences that you have had so far, or do you find yourself looking forward to all the experiences looming on the horizon?

Firstly you need to understand this ‘stop and start’ phase people have seen recently with the expedition: it's only because of the nature of the challenge right now. The idea is to get back on the road full-time and to do away with this expensive ‘stop-start’ misfortune. 

Ebbs and flows. Living in past moments and experiences is how we plan for the future.  We draw on the past to find the clues to help deal with the next party trick, whether consciously or sub-unconsciously. More so here, I think. Being back in a Latin culture, of course, takes me back to years past. I’ve been here in Melaque before. Six years ago I strolled into town on the way north and made friends. That has something to do with why I weighed anchor here again. Then there is the highway. It’s odd, but I have such a close, strange relationship with this dusty, bustling stretch of road: the Pan-American. It’s like meeting an old friend from long ago. Each stretch over the entire length of this continent has its own character and personality, and - for me - a unique set of memories and characteristics. There is an odd, comforting feeling standing on the ‘Pan-Am’, similar to the one you may expect to experience when arriving home after a long time away. I cannot travel along this road without one wary eye looking for a suitable tenting site, as in the good old days. So that's why I think I'm drawn back to familiar territory. 

At any point on your expedition have you doubted your ability to complete the history-making challenge that you set yourself more than ten years ago?

No! I just wish I could convince people fully. For some reason they still ask.

If no new sponsors come forward soon, what do you think might happen in regards to the expedition? Are you determine to push on no matter what?

It goes on. Let's look at why I’m doing this. I had been serving with the Parachute Regiment based in Dover. Standing on those famous white cliffs on a good day I could see continental Europe, the coast of France a mere twenty-one miles away across the Channel. I spent a great deal of time there, challenged by an image in my mind. If I looked very hard, it was as if I could make out the silhouetted image of an individual on the other side. I knew him, it was me - only I barely recognized him. My burning desire was to know the man on the other side, what he had seen and lived through, what it had taken to arrive at that point in my distant future. This truly is the heart and soul of my whole endeavor: to one day look back across the English Channel at a naive young man about to make a choice that will define his life. A choice that he could never truly understand. It's about that question: “What would it take to get home?” On a journey the world told me could not be done. That's what it’s about. It’s not about book deals, fundraising, or even walking. It’s the challenge and realization of a dream. It’s to learn of that life and to know I did not flinch.

People naturally assume I like to walk. I don't. It’s mostly quite boring. When you do it all day, every day, it’s hard on you in so many ways. But that's the point… doing this on foot, not by bike or car, puts it into a whole new perspective. It's a whole new ball game. It’s about resistance to the daily wear and tear that demands so much more from you, but that's what makes it so rewarding; that's what makes the nature of this journey. It’s no coincidence that I left my life as a British Paratrooper for a journey on foot. The idea was born within a culture that lives and fights on its feet. In that regiment it was all about being able to fight on two feet over long distances, self-sufficiently. That means carrying everything with you and being able to do it in any environment for extended time frames. That's why I’m on foot, because we know how challenging it is, and it’s just the way we do it. I’m not so much walking around the world as 'Tabbing'.

During your trek north, through South, Central and North America, you kept diaries, the bulk of which were subsequently transformed into the phenomenally popular book 'Giant Steps'. Have you been surprised by how well the book has sold and how much support you have garnered for what you are doing?

I'm totally amazed that so many people have read the book. I believed it would be too specialised and only of interest to a niche audience. I would never have imagined it possible a number of years ago. I will be eternally grateful to the people who were willing to invest in such a project, as the book deal paid for the vast majority of the Northern journey through Alaska and across The Bering Straits.

When you first set out on Day One, did you hope to inspire others to lead lives less ordinary, or was that never your intention?

It really never was on the radar screen. Day One was about surviving the next 'x' number of years. Faced with great uncertainties for years to come, with no support, it was hard to envision anything much beyond not messing up big style. Most days revolved around finding something to eat and somewhere to sleep. Usually I was dusty, dirty and hungry, and it seems to me that I didn't paint a particularly inspiring picture. As the years have gone by, I have received wonderful messages of support on the website from all over the world, lots from those who say the expedition has been an inspiration to their own lives. I find this humbling and yet very rewarding.

If there is one over-riding thing that you've learnt from your time on the road, what is it?

Getting out there and doing something can really change your life. The realisation of just how much you don't know. The benefits that come from being willing to take that calculated risk. Believing in your own capabilities when others doubt you, and the importance of broadening your horizons. I cannot say I have learnt that much new about myself. After twelve years in the Army I knew just where my limits lay, what I could and could not do, and I had a fair idea about how I would perform under certain conditions. What I have really learnt about are other people. It may be fair to say that as a soldier we didn’t always see the best side of some people. In so many ways I have rediscovered my faith in humanity. It seems to me that I have met the best the world has to offer. From the poorest of the poor to the richest, and from individuals to governments, by far the vast majority helped me along the road at some point. It has been a real eye-opener. Beneath the thin veil of cultural differences, on a one-to-one basis, we are all exactly the same. The same wants, needs and hopes in life. It's amazing, if not downright disastrous, how we lose that humanity and how it all goes horribly wrong when it comes to group-thinking. I have distanced myself from religions, or rather the horror and ignorance they seem to engender. I have also become increasingly concerned about our ability to achieve the collective goal of sustainability, with that aim being sabotaged by misdirection.

Have you been surprised by the kindness shown by all the strangers you have met, or did you expect random shows of kindness all along?

What hopes do you have for the remainder of 2009, and where would you like to see yourself at this time next year?

Right now I’m in a tight spot. The worst place to run short of money and lose our sponsors would be somewhere like the very remote Russian Arctic tundra, and that's where it has happened. The worst time to be stuck, and in dire need of sponsorship, is in the midst of a global economic crisis, and I am. I really need the winter to be able to move right now and we’ve just lost a season. When and how I move will depend on my ability now to find the helping hand I need. Some see this as an activity separate from or outside of the expedition. But not me. Remember what this odyssey is about?  It’s about that question which came to me on the cliffs at Dover .What would it take for a man to get home to England from the southern tip of South America, on foot, unassisted by transport? What would it take? Remember those two basic rules that bind me. This is nothing more than part of the story and part of the answer to that question. This is part of what it takes. From endless desert roads, fighting thieves in the night, evading Colombian guerillas in the jungle, eating rubbish found on the side of the road, stumbling blindly over a cliff in a snow storm, falling in love and having your heart ripped out, being jailed in distant lands, walking 18,000 miles, sitting with a laptop solving marketing problems. Welcome to the first true odyssey of the twenty-first century!

 

 

Book ....

Click on picture to go to Amazon.co.uk

"Giant Steps"

In Punta Arenas, Chile, in November 1998, Karl Bushby set out on one of the most remarkable journeys of modern times. His plan is as simple as it is extraordinary: to walk up the Americas, across the Bering Straits, through Asia, Russia and Europe, back through the Channel Tunnel and returning to Britain in 2009. It is a journey of remarkable endurance -- 20 miles a day, 3,000 miles a year, 36,000 miles in total. By the the time Karl returns, he will have crossed four continents, twenty five countries, a frozen sea, six deserts and seven mountain ranges. But more than that, unlike other similar expeditions, Karl is attempting it single handed: no huge support teams, no large sponsorship deals, this is the inspiring true story of a man facing remarkable odds -- and winning.