The thing that struck me the first time I did a long-distance ride was how you see every inch of the way - you still daydream some of it just as on a train journey or go on auto-pilot as on a drive, but you notice all the gradual changes of geology and character of the land. Not being interested in that aspect of the journey and wanting to be somewhere far away as immediately as possible is an attitude I associate with work - get there, do the gig, get home. But for experiencing the world, the journey is as important as the destination. That's when I discover what goes on in people's minds - or rather what doesn't - when my mate with the office job says "I just want to put my feet up" - as if putting his feet up 8 hours every single day of his working life in front of a computer weren't enough.
A distinction which is never made is between mind and body - the body, that in everyday life doesn't get anywhere near enough "hard work" to keep itself fit, suddenly gets let loose, and the mind is allowed to switch off, which it does even more so than it would by the pool on a package holiday because it has menial stuff like route-finding or cooking to do, not to mention occasionally being blown away by amazing scenery or the resulting flights of phylosophy. When you're trekking or bike touring, the anxious mind switches off - the body's going for it, which it can't in most jobs these days, but your mind, which is stressed out in most jobs, calms down.
When I take to the hills I find for the first week my mind is going ten to the dozen, a constant unstoppable burble of schemes, plans, problems, solutions, arguments... and a few anxiety dreams thrown in too - e.g. I'm locked in the toilet in an airport in Korea but out of a porthole I can see my double bass being loaded onto a flight for Morocco, oh dear the baggage handlers have dropped it out of the hold onto the runway, here comes a 747 to run over it... and I left my passport on the plane which was refuelling before going off to Alicante but whoops it's crashed into the sea, and look there's my 7-year old who's strapped on a pair of wings from a nativity play and is flapping past with a smile on his face - watch out he's crashed into a wall, and by the way where's all the printouts of the music we're supposed to be playing, oh don't worry I'll just make it up - wait here comes a posh looking woman, she says "are you the famous Raph, I can't wait for your concert I've heard all about you" - who the hell is she? What am I supposed to be playing? Where's my bass? .... and I wake up in a cold sweat, in my tent on a beautiful lonely ledge in glorious sunshine... everything's ok, PHEW!
After about a week it starts to die down, after two weeks I'm simply chilled out and happy. Who says you can't cycle away from problems??? I get to this state of mind where I can sit still for an hour or more at a time and watch the world go by like old codgers in mountain villages. That's what trekking or cycle touring does for me. Normally I can't sit for one minute without feeling I've got to get on with something. Every second without achieving anything is a tragedy all of its own, whereas touring or trekking turns it into an extra hour spent chilled out and mellow.