To plan, or not to plan

Imagine just getting up one day and seeing where your bike or walking boots take you. It’s a beguiling, romantic and transgressive idea. It threatens the order of the regimented lives we construct for ourselves and which society constructs for us. What about work? What about putting the bins out? Our heads tell us we must do these things; our hearts tell us we should be cycling to India solo with just a change of clothes and a pistol. That, famously, is what travel writer Dervla Murphy did in 1963.

I could never follow Murphy’s example – and not just because gun laws and border controls have been tightened since the 60s. I’m a planner. I like to scrutinise every detail of a route, make packing lists and keep notes detailing all the logistics involved. I even enjoy pondering hypothetical trips. How would I cycle from my home to Scotland? What would be the best route through France? Which pilgrimage route would I most like to walk? Questions like these keep me occupied for hours as I lose track of time making cartographical connections.