We’re back with the 5th and final installment of our Adventure Mindset series, and we saved the most important for last. It may seem obvious, but as simple as this is, sometimes it’s not easy: You’ve got to learn to trust your community, and ask for help when you need it.
So, imagine this: You are me, riding a motorcycle to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. You come up to a flag holder who is stopping traffic for the road construction crew and you try to stop your motorbike at your designated place in line. Only squeezing the brakes doesn’t work like it should, and you suddenly have to put the full strength of your body into the brakes to stop the bike in time, which you do - but only after skidding to a stop on locked up wheels. You are 50 miles south of Coldfoot, almost exactly at the midpoint of the highway north, and the bike is not working the way it should be.
This was the moment we talked about in Part 2 of this series, where the bike was broken due to oil leaking from the front suspension. I had thought I had mitigated against this risk with seal protectors, but the gruelling road had proven no match even for those and debris had worked its way into the seal, causing the oil to leak out. The oil dripped down onto the front brakes, lubricating the pads and rotors on both sides of the wheel. Brakes work by relying on friction, so lubrication means they just don’t work.
The downside is I didn’t know anything about the front suspension of my motorcycle. I thought I had properly mitigated things with the seal protectors - I was wrong, but I didn’t have a Plan B. We decided to limp gently into Coldfoot and assess the situation.
When we arrived, we had no cell service or internet - there would be no turning to YouTube for help. But there was a resource far greater than all the YouTube videos in the world: A person who’s been there, done that. Lo and behold, sipping a cold beer on the patio of Coldfoot Camp sat a man whose name was Jim. I spotted him from the parking lot and knew he was the rider of the KTM 990 Adventure parked out front. Apart from a few Harley riders - who looked like they'd seen the devil himself and didn't look too fit to continue on the road, and likely wouldn't after they shared about their bikes having luggage mounts rattle off - Jim was the only other rider there. I went inside, bought him a fresh beer, and saddled up to his table.
Within the time it takes a thirsty adventure rider drinking a cold beer on a hot day (so…not very long), Jim had taught me everything I needed to know about fixing fork seals in the bush, including the type and quality of business card that works best to scoop the debris from the seals and the minimum proof booze necessary to degrease the pads and rotors (thankfully we had some brake cleaner). Without his help, I would have been lost and wouldn’t have known what to do, but he was a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge and was more than happy to share it. After his expert advice, I set to work fixing the motorcycle and we were able to continue the trip. Incidentally - that “temporary” fix lasted from July of 2015 until the Spring of 2023. Not bad for a side-of-the-road solution discussed over a beer in the bush.
The thing about motorcycling - or remote travel in general - is that there’s a community that forms amongst those who are willing to do crazy and stupid things for the sake of the experience. In general, we tend to look out for one another as riders - you’ll often see riders wave at each other on highways for example. We don’t all know each other obviously, but we are all part of the same community. It never occurred to me that Jim wouldn’t help - that’s just not the done thing amongst riders. And, for remote area travellers, stopping to help isn’t just a courtesy - it can sometimes be the difference between life and death.
But I had to be the one who asked for help. That can be one of the hardest things for a person to do - but it’s necessary for an adventurer and for the adventure mindset. Asking for help is saying “I am not able to do this on my own”, and that ever-present (and in some people’s cases, over-active) thing called our Ego can make that really hard. Sometimes, what makes it hard is feeling we are unworthy of receiving help. There are a number of mental tricks that we play on ourselves consciously and subconsciously that get in the way of asking for help, and prevent us from accepting a very simple fact: Nobody succeeds alone, and helping each other is a fundamental part of the human experience. We are a communal species, and we succeed by cooperating and supporting each other to solve problems.
Asking for help to solve problems we face is hard, and I do recognize that - but for the Adventure Mindset to flourish, you’ve got to swallow the barriers that are preventing you from asking and trust your community.
We've all got communities - your professional career has been full of relationships with people who care about you. You've hopefully had the good fortune of some good mentors and leaders who would still support your success if you reached out to them. From reading draft white papers to helping solve pest issues to supporting people getting jobs, my professional network is a significant part of my community. I know I can turn to them when I need help - and you should too.
Whether at work or on an adventure, we have countless examples of how we’ve been supported and helped on our journey, and we try to pay it forward whenever we can. The world is full of bad news, but always remember it’s “news” because it’s unusual and noteworthy - the world is an overwhelmingly kind and helpful place. Whether it’s a local taking me under his wing in Iquitos or Egypt, or a helpful guide clearing out the Black Mamba’s from the trees over Teryn’s bed in South Africa, there are always people around happy to help.
But you have to ask. Trust your community - you’ll be surprised how much help you get when you simply ask for it.
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