I recently got the opportunity to do something more risky and terrifying than any of the journeys, expeditions or adventure projects I’ve ever undertaken.
That’s right: aged 41, and after nearly two decades as a “self-unemployed creative explorer”, I was offered my first ever real job.
And – gasp – I took it! Because in so many ways, it sounded like exactly the kind of step forward I needed. It’s been almost a decade since I embarked on the frankly ludicrous mission to create, from scratch, a Transcaucasian Trail. Yet now, with dozens of dedicated people from across the Caucasus and beyond on the ever-growing TCT bandwagon, and 1,500km chunk of the route more or less in the bag, I think it’s finally safe for me to hop off for a while – still supporting from a distance (how could I not?) but otherwise taking all I’ve learned and applying it where my long-time advocacy for meaningful journeymaking might be more effective.
So today I’ll be tweaking my various profiles and social media bios to reflect that I’m the Royal Geographical Society‘s new Expeditions & Fieldwork Manager.
It’s a not-particularly-sexy job title that also doesn’t quite satisfactorily explain itself. But the way I’m currently reading it, my task is to take this venerable organisation’s long tradition of supporting (not always, in retrospect, entirely tasteful) journeys of discovery, and refocusing it to more effectively and equitably serve the rapidly-changing contexts and challenges of life on Earth today – based at its home in the Lowther Lodge at 1 Kensington Gore, London.
Long-time readers of my various blogs, books and thought pieces will know that there are vanishingly few circumstances in which I’d ever accept an offer of full-time employment, which is something I’ve perhaps uncharitably always seen as selling the best part of my waking life to serve someone else’s goals.
Even applying felt like a shot in the dark, given that my CV is basically an admission of having spent my adult life “self-unemployed”, jumping from one crackpot idea to the next.
Being invited to interview was honestly bewildering – what could I possibly do that another candidate couldn’t do better? – but not half as much as being called up the next day to be asked how soon I could start! Given the kind of people I’d imagined would be applying alongside me, I really did have to pinch myself, sat as I was in the car outside a provincial police station trying to report a stolen bank card in not-quite-fluent Armenian.
But this might just be an opportunity to steer how the concept of exploration/adventure/purposeful travel/whatever-you-want-to-call-it is perceived and translated into action on a greater scale than I’ve been able to achieve alone.
And that’s why I don’t mind taking on the additional challenge of moving my base of operations from Armenia to the UK. I suddenly find myself preparing for a funny kind of expedition; one that will probably involve driving a specially modified Land Rover Defender thousands of miles across the Caucasus and Europe for the second time in a decade.
I’ll be in London on a regular basis from late September onwards, as well as for the Explore festival and weekend gathering on November 1–3. Discounted early-bird tickets are still available – maybe see you there?
As for my involvement in the Transcaucasian Trail, the Armenian National Trail, and associated projects, another funny thing has happened: as a result of me telling people I’m leaving, the conversation around how I can help from a distance has taken on that critical urgency it never really had before.
When I reflected on this prospect, I realised that cutting ties with the community that has coalesced around the TCT is not what I wanted to do. As well as being one of the initiators of all things trail-related in Armenia, I have a depth of knowledge that remains useful and relevant, even from a distance. Being based in the UK might also be an opportunity to find support for this project of hope out here at the troubled crossroads of Europe, Russia and West Asia. Let’s see.
With moving to the UK also comes the prospect of making ends meet in a country where the cost of mere existence has, apparently, inflated far beyond what most of its inhabitants consider a reasonable exchange for the work they are doing.
I count myself lucky that my life so far as a shoestring traveller and “solopreneur” has made me quite experienced in the art of living frugally and finding innovative ways to keep a roof over my head. These skills aren’t part of the infamous Life In The UK test, but perhaps they should be. If I’m honest, it’s this aspect of the transition that daunts me the most, because I know how much more effectively one can act without the looming cloud of financial anxiety over one’s head, and I’d rather not move in beneath it.
But let’s not forget the fun parts! I have been away from the country of my birth for a very long time. Aside from obvious things like bacon and real ale, there are many aspects of living in the UK I’m hugely looking forward to.
These include, in no particular order: reconnecting with old friends and acquaintances; multiculturalism in the broadest possible sense; bike lanes; mostly-functional state institutions requiring minimal interaction; a disciplined approach to road use (and in particular parking) by the general populace; a service sector whose employees do not see their job as being to make absurd excuses as to why the customer experience is shite; not so often running into the brick wall of limited vocabulary during everyday conversations; being able to order Land Rover parts online and have them arrive a day later; muddy music festivals; cheddar that’s actually worth eating; working alongside people who strive for excellence; becoming just another member of a huge and inclusive outdoor and exploration community instead of being the one trying to create it from scratch; direct train access to Europe; and – last but certainly not least – occasionally going to the Caucasus as a visitor and being able to enjoy it!
So there it is. I’ve found myself somewhere I never expected to be but that also feels right. Historied institutions are notoriously resistant to change, but I really do hope I’ll be able to serve the greater good in a way that aligns with my values.
In the meantime, I’ve got more than a little packing and preparation to do before I leave Armenia again – this time, perhaps, for a little longer than usual.
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