The Call of the Open Road

The itch to roam solo first took hold in 2002, when I was 25 and left the UK behind, escaping a life that had grown stale. Before that, I was stuck in London, commuting an hour and a half each way to an office job in insurance—exciting, I know! Lost in a drinking culture that drained my days, the three-hour daily commute on a rattling train felt like a prison sentence. Without change, I could see the next 20 years vanishing into an ongoing haze.

That need for a dramatic shift drove me to become a campsite rep for a UK holiday firm in Italy, landing on a site in Portese on the shores of beautiful Lake Garda. Sun-kissed shores, crystal-clear water, Italian culture, and being surrounded by like-minded young colleagues from across Europe became an addiction that grew from a planned one-year break into a seven-year change of life direction.

I spent four years at that site on Lake Garda, first as a rep, then as manager, before moving into the role of area manager overseeing various campsites across Germany, Luxembourg, Burgundy, and the Jura in France. I finally returned to my beloved Italy in 2007, where I worked as a mobile home maintenance engineer, spending two years based on the Tuscan coast, whilst covering sites located between Rome and Lake Garda—it was safe to say my wanderlust had well and truly taken hold!

During my first year in Italy, on a rare weekend off, I decided to take myself to Genoa by train. It was my first time travelling solo, and even though it was only a few hours away, that excitement of arriving alone in a new city has never left me. I completely fell in love with Genoa, and have returned several times over the years.

During those seven years away, Italy’s people, culture, landscapes, and, of course, the food stole my heart, and despite years of further solo travel and big adventures, including a four-month overland trip from Kathmandu to the UK (you can read the book on that one), Italy, and particularly Genoa, remains where I love to be.

Now, 21 years on from that first solo adventure, I still travel regularly with family and friends, but those trips tend to be more structured; heading to one or two places, unpacking, with the holiday experience only starting once we reach our destination. As much as I love this, I still miss the kind of travelling I did back then, so when a window of free time opened up, an idea sparked: this was my chance to dive back into a real adventure and embrace the journey as much as the destination.

Many months were spent joyfully poring over maps, leafing through guidebooks, following travel vlogs on YouTube and Instagram, and dreaming of the journey ahead. And so it was, that on one September morning in 2023, I set off, heading back to Italy, and back to the city where a piece of my heart remains.

What follows is the story of that nine-day adventure, travelling through ten countries and covering 2,375 miles—why not come along for the ride?

Buckle your seatbelt… Andiamo!

To continue reading, head to: Chapter 1: The Drive to Basel