It’s not easy to get lost anymore (thanks Google), but we must

Sometimes it can feel like it’s difficult to get truly, properly lost when we always have an iPhone in our hand - but this is the important reason why we should explore new territory.

Columnist Frances Whiting. Picture: Tara Croser

Sometimes, it feels like there are no more quests to be had, doesn’t it? No unexplored territory left to explore. No tales of derring-do, of pitting mind, body and spirit against the elements, not without the aid of some sort of technology anyway.

It’s not even easy to get lost anymore, go overseas now and your mum’s tracking your every move on Google Maps.

Sometimes, it seems like there are no true adventures left, and no true adventurers. Unless. Unless you are Uni, a 23-year-old Japanese man currently on a back road somewhere between Melbourne and Cairns, and somewhere in the middle of his 4000km odyssey. On his scooter. With no motor.

Uni Kick on his adventures: Source: @uni.kick

Uni flew into Tullamarine from Japan in early January, unfolded his scooter and pushed off, literally, with a tent in his backpack, his traditional conical Kasa hat on his head, and hit the road. Uni’s family, by the way, think he’s a little bit crazy, and they’re a little bit worried about him.

He told me that, in one of our conversations using a translation service. He doesn’t mind that people think he’s mad to scooter his way across a good chunk of Australia, and he doesn’t think it matters that he can’t speak English. Because Uni is a man on a foot-powered mission to prove that the things we have in common are far greater than the things that divide us. That a stranger in a strange land will still find friends along the way. And Uni has; he’s had beers with the locals at Violet Town, bunked in with Marg and Michael in Euroa in country Victoria, had a barbecue over at Mr Hanson’s house in Picton, played guitar with Mr Steve in a small, NSW town called Junee, and said a teary goodbye to Steve and Kristy at Bundanoon, and he’s just left Dusty’s house in Goulburn, where he played with their five kids and broke bread at their table.

Uni’s instagram feed is full of messages from people he’s met on the way, or strangers wishing him well, “Keep going, Uni!”

A middle-aged father he stayed with said, “I miss you like my son is on the road.” As I said, Uni’s English is not great, my Japanese is non-existent, but we have muddled through our conversations on Instagram, and here’s something he told me about himself and his trip.

Frances Whiting.

“I wanted to know we are the same, even though we look different and use different languages. Pushing the scooter is hard but there is always a downhill slope, when you cross a high hill the better the view. I think this is similar to life.”

When Uni scooters into our town, we’ve invited him to stay with us, and I can’t wait to meet him. I’m not sure what prompted me to follow Uni’s adventures when I heard about him, or to share his story with you. But I think it’s because there’s something about Uni’s odyssey that feels simple, and pure.

And because in these most turbulent times, I think the world needs more Unis to remind us that we remain, despite what some people would have us believe, fellow travellers along this bumpy and beautiful road. If you’d like to follow Uni’s adventures, you’ll find him @uni.kick.

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Instagram: @frankywhiting