11 June — the report from Day 25.
Today we set off early and full of intent for our third border, Georgia.And that resolve turned into another ordeal almost at once.
Before we had gone a hundred metres, a loud noise I had never heard before —a heavy clattering — rang out.
We stopped straight away to look: the gears, by the sound of it.
The car could not go on under its own power, and today of all days we had to cross into Georgia.
With no time even to work out the cause, we arranged a transporter, worry and all, and headed for the border.
Going on in that state is like walking along the top of a cliff you cannot see.
But the destination of this adventure is right there, and whatever the difficulty there is only forward.
I told myself that again and again as the transporter shook us along.
The ordeal of the Georgian border
Three hours in the transporter, sending news back to Japan from inside it.
This situation is very hard to put into writing — so, video.
How it actually felt, on video
When we finally reached the Georgian border, there was a long queue of friends who had been waiting for hours in the blazing heat.
A car on a transporter obviously cannot cross on an Azerbaijani transporter, so from here someone has to tow you.
And there were the others, worn out with waiting and irritated.
We had no choice but to cut into the front of the transporter queue,
and the irritation came at us: “We’re waiting too!”
With the car trouble already close to breaking me, now friction with people.
A moment of feeling exactly how much an adventure tests your mental strength.
Up to today I have always been helped by the kindness of the others.
But across the five years of working towards this challenge, alongside the great force of people’s support
there was plenty of abuse and there were dream-killers, and there were days when it made me ill.
And now I know my own heart has grown a little stronger.
“The man who shouted his irritation at me may be in difficulty himself right now.”
The hardness of this journey is not ours alone; it is the same for every entrant.
Thinking that, this was a moment of taking in the struggle inside other people too —
something the pretty phrase “helping each other” does not fully cover.
A hand held out, and the force of mutual help written into me
While I was still brooding, one entrant suddenly called over:
“We’ll tow you with our car — let’s cross the border together.”
In twenty-five days we had barely met, let alone spoken, and unexpected help from that crew
lit something warm inside me.
We fixed a rope to their car and crossed the border under tow.
In that moment I felt, again and deeply, the force of the connection between people.
The simple fact that in difficulty there is someone who will help gave me courage from the bottom of my heart. With trouble following trouble I have not been in a position to give, but I felt strongly that I want to be that person for somebody too.
Across the border safely, two hours behind the convoy,
the Georgian transporter driver stopped at a small shop and bought us bread and cheese —
the bread he likes best in Georgia.
I had forgotten to be hungry; anxious about what came next, my head had been close to bursting from thinking
all morning.
And home-made wine in a plastic bottle, with the taste of something made by hand.
For someone as full of impatience and anxiety as I was, his kindness brought a small calm for a little while.
Across all these days, in country after country, how many people’s thoughtfulness and kindness have held us up? Gratitude rises in my chest.
Human beings run into walls of every kind, and every time we are tested to our limits, we find that someone is holding us up.
And every time: the strength to beat a difficulty comes not from being alone but from connection to other people.
I thought again that I want to be the kind of person who holds someone else up, somewhere.
Despair back in the road, and holding on to the hope of a repair
We crossed into Georgia safely, but the trouble was not over.
Arranging a local transporter, and finding a workshop to repair the broken ring gear.
We were lucky enough to find a workshop in a Georgian town and had the car taken there — but something looked wrong.
Workshop or not, this was a paint shop.
And still the Georgians were warm.
One after another, people gathered, and above all they checked the state of the gear that had caused it.
The answer was brutal.
The gear was completely destroyed. This was not a repair; without a new part
the car could not possibly run.
After a long journey to get this far, does it end here?
The thought crossed my mind.
With nowhere to put the feeling, I was close to being crushed — and then the English workshop came to mind. If they still had the drawings from when it was repaired before,
perhaps they could make another. I got in touch, betting on that thin hope.
The roller coaster between despair and hope is too violent.
“There are no drawings.” With that one line, everything went black.
We have a single day in Georgia; between here and the Turkish border we keep hunting for the next hope.
In this adventure, with difficulty arriving day after day, I am learning in my own body how much strength there is in finding even a small hope.
However slight the possibility, refusing to give it up and clinging to it gets you through however bad the situation. Believing — and even a certain stubbornness — matter now.
A broken ring gear, and no way out. But while there is hope of going forward, we continue. This adventure has stopped being merely a challenge aimed at a finish line; it has become a journey that tests me as deeply as anything can, and puts me in touch with human warmth.
Perhaps this is what taking something on in life actually means.
Behind this smile, in this situation, was other people’s kindness.
Point a camera at me and there is nothing to do but laugh. Even so, this is the worst crisis since the challenge began.
Continued in Day 26 …