S5, E12: Only 10 Individuals Have Circumnavigated the Globe—Including One Dog.

In the 12th episode of Travel Tales by Dinogo, Tom Turcich, the 10th person to walk around the world, recounts a story from his memoir, The World Walk, detailing an unexpected meeting in the Peruvian desert during his seven-year journey alongside his dog, Savannah. Two years after their adventure, he speaks with Travel Tales by Dinogo host, Aislyn Greene, about the transformative impact of his walk and how others can reap the rewards of walking—whether it's a pilgrimage or a simple 45-minute stroll in their neighborhood.

Transcript

Aislyn Greene: I’m Aislyn Greene, and this is Travel Tales by Dinogo.

Every week, we share life-altering travel stories from poets, scientists, authors, entrepreneurs, and many others. This week, we will hear from the man who journeyed around the globe with his dog, Savannah, by his side. In 2015, Tom Turcich embarked on what he anticipated would be approximately a five-year expedition with his four-month-old puppy, Savannah.

Equipped with a customized cart for his supplies, a five-year sponsorship for his walking adventure, and an abundance of hope, he embarked on what turned out to be a seven-year journey. This adventure was filled with hurdles, including the pandemic and a harrowing incident at knife point, but it also unveiled immense beauty. All of these experiences are captured in his latest memoir, The World Walk: A Grand Meditation, One Step at a Time. The book releases on October 8, and today, we’ll share an excerpt from it.

In this excerpt, Tom finds himself a year and a half into his expedition, traversing one of the most unwelcoming deserts in Peru.

He starts to feel a dip in his momentum—perhaps not in hope, but certainly in energy . . . until he experiences a remarkable encounter.

Make sure to stay tuned after the excerpt for my conversation with Tom, where we delve deeper into his current situation, his connection with walking, and how this journey has profoundly transformed him.

(The Night in the Desert: An excerpt from The World Walk: 7 Years. 28,000 Miles. 6 Continents. A Grand Meditation, One Step at a Time.)

Tom Turcich: Driven by countless empty hours and coca leaves that dulled the sensation in my lower lip, I tackled one stretch of desert after another. Savannah and I consistently covered at least twenty-seven miles daily, sometimes exceeding thirty miles to reach a town before depleting our water supply. After parting ways with Joe, we managed an impressive thirty-six miles in just one day. When we finally reached Mórrope, I secured a twenty-dollar room where Savannah slept for fourteen hours while I lay in bed, listening to the throb of my legs echoing in my ears.

In the northern desert, the terrain was flat, but as we journeyed south, the Pan-American Highway was pushed toward the coast by the final waves of the Andes tumbling into the Pacific Ocean. Along the coastline, the air turned salty, and the towns nestled into narrow valleys. The desert became increasingly arid and barren, and there were days when I didn’t converse with anyone at all. Without internet access, I resorted to listening to old podcasts just to hear a voice.

I blasted music from Sam Cooke, The Black Keys, and The Beatles through my speaker. I sang with unrestrained enthusiasm, often propelling my cart forward so I could conduct the music with my hands.

When I grew weary of singing, I turned my attention to Savannah. I wasn’t quite delirious enough for full conversations, but boredom prompted me to share comments throughout the day.

"What a view."

"At least it’s overcast."

"Peanut butter, peanut butter, peanut butter."

My fraternity brother, Arturo, a native Peruvian, was waiting for me in the capital, Lima. This anticipation made the desert trek even tougher. With nothing else to occupy my mind, I found myself daydreaming about the luxurious days ahead—his parents’ vineyard, their beach house, and indulging in ceviche in the city. The thoughts of a warm bed and a refreshing shower felt like poison to my happiness, yet they kept creeping in; strangely, I welcomed them. The desert was numbing, and with each passing day, I felt increasingly less alive. However, the visions of Lima offered me something to cling to, a reason to push through the endless stretches of sand. I felt dull, empty, almost lobotomized; I could barely recall what I was doing.

One morning, I found myself in an abandoned house, tapping the back of my head against the wall, trying to revive some spark within me. Glancing at the map revealed that I wouldn’t see anything for another two days. The thought filled me with dread. My boredom had the potential to turn each mile into five.

As the days grew longer, I should have been savoring a morning coffee, but I had left my stove back in Bogotá. Aware that water would be limited in the desert, I had opted to lighten my load by leaving it behind. So instead of enjoying a steaming cup of coffee, I resorted to swallowing a caffeine pill.

"Come here, Savannah."

I pulled her head to my chest and leaned against her side. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the feeling of her fur against my cheek and the rhythm of her chest rising and falling. However, Savannah wasn't particularly fond of affection. The moment I released her collar, she wandered off and settled by the steps, signaling that she was ready to get moving again.

At noon, I found a rock beside the road to rest on. I didn't feel like preparing a sandwich or snacking on mixed nuts, so I opted to eat peanut butter straight from the spoon. After a few scoops, Savannah and I were back on our feet.

The miles dragged on, but by early evening, we unexpectedly discovered a restaurant that wasn't marked on the map. La Balsa was located at the crossroads of the Pan-American Highway and a dirt road leading to the fishing village of La Gramita.

For a place in the middle of nowhere, it was surprisingly lively. I chose a table against the wall and settled Savannah at my feet. I wondered if I could persuade the owner to let us stay inside for the night. They would open early, which meant we’d have to leave early, but the thought of spending another night in the desert felt as unappealing as swallowing a mouthful of sand.

"Where do you come from?" the waiter inquired.

"The United States," I replied.

"By bicycle?" he asked.

"No, on foot," I answered.

"We’ve had only one other walker," the waiter said, gesturing towards a series of photos on the far wall. "Take a look."

I released Savannah’s leash and approached the collage. On the wall, I spotted a familiar image—Karl Bushby, my hero, hands on his chest, face shielded from the sand, standing in the Peruvian desert. It was the exact photo that had been etched in my mind since I was seventeen. Framing Karl's picture were newspaper clippings from Peru, Chile, and the UK.

"I know him," I called to the waiter from across the room. "I spoke with him before I set out. That’s Karl Bushby."

The waiter approached and stood next to me.

"He began his journey in 2000," he noted.

"Actually, it was earlier, in ’98, if I recall correctly," I replied.

"Ah yes, that’s correct. He visited here in 2000."

I leaned in closer to the articles. Although I had seen the images before, they resonated with new significance now that I was treading the same path Karl had taken sixteen years earlier. I wasn’t as rugged as Karl—I wasn’t a former paratrooper. I bypassed the Darien Gap while he ventured through it, and I had no desire to swim across the Bering Strait like he did, but we were kindred spirits. The fellowship of world walkers was small. Even though our conversation was brief, I felt a connection to him. I understood the meaning of departure, of being an outsider, and the relentless urge to be out there.

I scrutinized the image of Karl in the desert, a two-wheeled cart hitched to his waist. He was completely covered, leaving only his hands exposed. Had I not seen this picture at seventeen, I might never have purchased a bike trailer or gone to The Factory for modifications. I wouldn’t have met Tom Marchetty, and he wouldn’t have called a press conference. Without that press conference, I wouldn’t have landed sponsorship from Philadelphia Sign. This photo tied me directly to my journey, and as I gazed at it, I realized how each event leads to another. I wasn’t merely an isolated entity in time but part of an ongoing stream of ideas; not the brush, but the paint; not self-directed, but influenced by larger forces.

The image led me back to the photo.

"Bring your cart in here."

I faced the waiter.

"Bring your cart inside so nothing gets stolen," he suggested.

"Oh yes, that’s perfect. Thank you," I responded.

With the cart in tow, the waiter guided me to a space behind the register where an elderly man in a surgical mask was seated at a table, poring over four thick tomes filled with handwritten notes. I parked my cart, and the waiter motioned for me to take a seat across from the old man.

"This is Clemente," he introduced. "The Angel of the Desert."

"Good afternoon," I greeted.

"Your companion," he replied.

Clemente flipped open one of the tomes and slid it across the table to me.

On the page was a sketch of a man wearing hiking boots and patched trousers, with a cart attached to his waist and a British flag waving behind him. Above and below the illustration were written notes:

WALKING FOR THE WORLD RECORD!!

GOLIATH EXPEDITION

Punta Arenas to London. No planes, no ships, no cars, no buses, no trains, and . . .

NO BIKES!

36,000 miles / 57,000 kilometers (-7,300 km)

11 years (-1 year 4 months)

In a tough world, all alone, with just enough coins to rub together and barely any food or water, I stumbled out of the desert and found the kindest soul on Earth, Clemente. God bless you, my dear friend! He treated me like royalty and renewed my faith in humanity; everyone should pay their respects to this remarkable man!

Karl had also sketched a map, highlighting points of interest—lush areas, tough deserts, exciting adventures, and pretty girls.

I buried my face in my hands and wept.

Aside from my parents or Layla, Karl was the only one who could write a note that struck deep within me. He was merely a man, yet he represented an idea that had solidified in my soul for over a decade. He embodied adventure, discovery, and resilience. Sixteen years ago, he penned a note in the desert, and now, I was reading it—arriving at Clemente's restaurant while feeling the same relief Karl had felt.

“Where is he now?” Clemente asked.

“I think it's Russia,” I replied.

“It's been quite a while—ten, maybe even fifteen years. When was that written?”

“It's actually been sixteen years. He has been walking for over sixteen years now.”

I read the note multiple times, and with each reading, I felt my thoughts becoming clearer. The desert no longer felt as oppressive as it had just a few hours earlier. Karl had traversed it when it was even less developed. At least I had abandoned houses to shelter in and podcasts to keep me company.

“There’s more,” Clemente said.

He shifted a blank sheet of paper that had been concealing what I presumed was an empty page. Beneath it was a concluding note:

Whatever your ambitions may be, pursue them! Stay on the road. Drive with passion. Embrace life!

Keep raging on, you wild souls!

—Karl Bushby—

Copyright © 2024 Tom Turcich. Excerpted with permission from Skyhorse Publishing Inc. All Rights Reserved.

Aislyn: Tom, it's great to have you on Travel Tales.

Tom: I really appreciate you inviting me.

Aislyn: It's wonderful to see you—and you're actually sitting still. You're not out walking.

Tom: True, I'm not walking right now, but I did take a stroll this morning.

Aislyn: Really? How long was your walk?

Tom: Oh, around 45 minutes. I take a walk every morning, and it’s a lovely way to start my day.

Aislyn: Yeah. Definitely. Catch that morning sunlight.

Tom: Exactly, soaking up the morning light. I’ve noticed that if I have coffee or breakfast right away, or sit down immediately, I feel a sense of pressure or maybe even anxiety about the day ahead. But when I walk first, it allows my thoughts to flow naturally and gives me a smoother start to my work.

Aislyn: So, I’m curious about your current connection to walking. As listeners heard in the excerpt, you spent about seven years walking around the world. How has that relationship evolved for you now?

Tom: My perspective on walking has changed significantly. I didn’t really value it at all before; my appreciation back then was minimal. It took me about four to five months of walking to truly understand what was happening beneath the surface. I began to notice how my mind and emotions reacted differently when I was walking compared to being stationary or distracted by activities like watching TV or playing video games.

The experience is quite subtle. Thoughts come and go, emerging and then fading, only to reappear from different angles. This cycle repeats continuously. In a sense, it’s akin to meditation, where you ideally observe your thoughts and feelings as they drift by like clouds.

I believe walking naturally facilitates this process, allowing you to confront and resolve any inner conflicts or quirks. If you walk long enough, you begin to examine these thoughts from so many different perspectives that you eventually exhaust all possible angles.

Then you can say, alright, I’ll set this aside and move on. Nowadays, when I walk in the mornings, it’s all about letting go of the thoughts that have accumulated overnight and smoothly transitioning into the day.

Aislyn: It seems that walking has transformed into a form of meditation for you, almost like slipping back into the routine you established over those seven years.

Tom: Absolutely! Walking has become a habit and a rhythm in my life. I genuinely feel that my days aren’t fulfilled without a walk, which is a significant change from how I used to feel.

Aislyn: Do you intentionally avoid listening to something like a podcast while you walk, or is it more of a straightforward walk for you?

Tom: I’d say it’s about a 50/50 split. It really depends on whether there’s an interesting podcast available. Even when I do listen, it’s not with full focus; it’s more like background noise. I still notice the thoughts drifting in and out.

This tendency probably stems from my long walking experience. In this excerpt, I mention the boredom of walking through the desert. During those times, I’d listen to podcasts just to have a voice in the background.

I still do that sometimes—play something without really listening closely, allowing my thoughts to flow, and then tuning back into the podcast when something piques my interest. I think this half-listening habit developed from my extensive walking.

Aislyn: Forever. I want to delve deeper into that, but for those listeners who might not know about your journey, could you take us back to the start? What inspired you to walk around the world, and how did you make it a reality? It’s a story in itself.

Tom: Of course. When I was 17, my close friend Anne Marie tragically died in a freak jet ski accident. It was so unexpected. Anne Marie was the kindest person I knew, and even though we weren't super close, I would always find myself trying to get her to say something unkind. It never happened. She was consistently perfect in her kindness and generosity. She was better than me in every way, and when she passed away, it hit me hard. I thought, "If she can die, then so can I." Death had been on my mind for years, and around the age of 12 or 13, I had decided to dismiss those thoughts as something I couldn’t resolve.

I recall lying in bed at night, perfectly still, trying to lose the sense of having a body. I would cover my ears with my thumbs to block out sound, close my eyes to shut out light, and attempt to visualize what it was like to be dead. But the thought would always arise—how can one think in death? This would panic me, and eventually, I realized I couldn't handle it. I had to accept that this was something unknowable, something I had to set aside.

When Anne Marie died, all those buried emotions and thoughts surged back into my life. For a few months, I wandered through a haze, grappling with the reality that I, too, could die at any moment and how to merge that understanding with living and taking action.

It wasn’t until we watched Dead Poets Society in class that I found a path forward: 'carpe diem'—seize the day. Taking action became my mantra at 17, and while it has evolved since then, I still hold it dear. Initially, it meant just doing everything I could.

My friend said, "Hey, why not join the swim team?" So I jumped in and joined. Then my choir teacher suggested, "You should try the one acts." I thought, why not? I found myself saying yes to everything. Through that experience, I realized that while time is limited, not everything brings equal joy. To truly embrace life and seize the moment, you need to identify what you value and understand yourself better. After much reflection, I concluded that I wanted to travel and be pushed into adventures. I recognized my own timidity, introversion, and naivety, having grown up in a picturesque suburb.

I knew very little about the wider world, so I yearned to be thrust into it. I sought ways to travel, but lacking funds, I figured walking was the best option for a prolonged journey. It took eight years of schooling, repaying loans, living at home, and working to save enough money that I felt I could stretch it out for two years and secure a sponsor. Fortunately, just before I set off, a sponsor came forward, allowing me to make it happen.

Aislyn: The excerpt we just heard highlights one of your walking heroes, Karl Bushby. Where is he currently in his journey, and have you kept in touch with him over the years?

Tom: Yes! Karl is in Kazakhstan, preparing to swim across the Caspian Sea to Azerbaijan alongside Angela Maxwell, a woman who also walked around the globe. They are currently training and hope to begin soon. He has been on his journey for over 20 years and adheres to strict rules, insisting he won't complete his walk unless he has taken every single step himself.

Everything he does is powered by human effort. That's why he’s swimming across the Caspian. I opted to take a ferry across the Caspian and between Europe and Africa, so I didn’t impose such strict rules on myself. I wasn't keen on being out walking for 25 years. Karl is somewhat of a legend in the walking community, perhaps not a godfather, but definitely the world walker, according to the ten other individuals who have walked or are currently walking around the globe.

Aislyn: A very exclusive club.

Tom: Absolutely.

Aislyn: Do you all get together? Do you have discussions?

Tom: I actually talk to quite a few of them.

Aislyn: Seriously?

Tom: Yes, I've spoken to quite a few of them. It's a truly unique experience, and relating to others about it can be quite challenging. Especially after the journey, there's this tough transition phase where you move from a life filled with rich, meaningful experiences to a world that doesn’t engage you as intensely anymore. I recently had a wonderful conversation with Angela Maxwell, and it was an absolute joy.

Aislyn: Have you observed any common thread or shared experience among all you 'world walkers'?

Tom: I think we all share similar motivations, primarily a desire to maximize our life experiences. For Angela Maxwell, she expresses it as wanting to truly connect with the earth. I believe that's a beautiful perspective because walking allows you to genuinely feel the scale of the world in a way that no other mode of transport can. Cities may seem bustling and vibrant, but they are just small islands surrounded by more common spaces—little towns, villages, or expanses of pastures and deserts.

Tom: In essence, you really get to experience the earth. The commonality among us is a deep passion for life and a curiosity to truly live.

Aislyn: Absolutely. I want to delve deeper into that, but I also want to take a moment to recognize the loss of Savannah earlier this year. I've had to say goodbye to pets before, but this must feel so much more profound, given the bond you had with her.

So, how have you been holding up since then, and what steps are you taking to honor her memory and the role she played in your life over the years?

Tom: Ultimately, Savannah passed away from Lyme nephritis, which led to kidney failure.

Aislyn: I see.

Tom: I had to make the decision to put her to sleep. I struggled with a lot of guilt, feeling that this was something I could have prevented. I always kept her on tick prevention medicine, but often it was some off-brand stuff we found during our travels. She was bitten by countless ticks. For a week after the vet suggested it was time to say goodbye, I tried everything I could to give her a fighting chance, hoping her kidneys would recover. But looking back, it was an unrealistic hope. I just needed to give her that shot. Those days were the worst of my life, and the weeks that followed were equally tough. Things have improved a bit since then. It's only been about two months, but I still feel her presence. Some days are easier than others.

Tom: I had to make the decision to put her to sleep. I struggled with a lot of guilt, feeling that this was something I could have prevented. I always kept her on tick prevention medicine, but often it was some off-brand stuff we found during our travels. She was bitten by countless ticks. For a week after the vet suggested it was time to say goodbye, I tried everything I could to give her a fighting chance, hoping her kidneys would recover. But looking back, it was an unrealistic hope. I just needed to give her that shot. Those days were the worst of my life, and the weeks that followed were equally tough. Things have improved a bit since then. It's only been about two months, but I still feel her presence. Some days are easier than others.

But you know, we lived a life together that no other human and dog have ever experienced. She was the first dog to walk around the globe, and we spent every moment of every day together for seven years.

Unless I was running to the supermarket while we were at a hotel, where she would stay in the air conditioning, we were inseparable. We relied on each other to navigate daily life, facing challenges and changes side by side. She was always there for me, just as I was for her. Losing that bond is something beyond words, and my memoir truly honors her, showcasing her incredible spirit.

I also have a children’s book titled Savannah’s World of Adventure, which is the start of a series. The first installment features my journey across the Andes, and the next one will take place in Kyrgyzstan, hopefully releasing this year.

I believe this series serves as a primary way to keep her memory alive while introducing children to the wonders of the world.

Aislyn: I’m truly sorry for your loss. I can’t even imagine how difficult that must be. From what I've read and heard, she seemed exceptionally suited for walking. In that excerpt, it seemed she was always eager to hit the road while you were looking for a bit of affection.

Tom: Absolutely, during the first couple of years, she was quite the handful and had no idea how to cuddle. She would play and run in circles at night, but those initial years in Central and South America were tough, as we faced dog attacks almost daily.

It’s not that these dogs were inherently bad; in many of these areas, a dog might get a bit of food from a house but lacks affection. They linger around for food and become territorial over it, but without any love, they’re not friendly. Their mindset is simply, I need to protect this place because it’s my food source. As a result, we often encountered aggressive dogs during our journey.

For the first two years, Savannah struggled to get along with other dogs, and even our bond wasn't as deep as it became later. I was just trying to keep my head above water, thinking, How can I help her through this? My focus was solely on survival and adapting to our environment.

After those two years, I contracted a bacterial infection while in South America that forced me to stop for about four to five months. During that time, Savannah gradually began to relax. We spent our days at the dog park where she initially kept her distance, but over time she realized, Okay, these dogs won’t hurt me. She became more sociable and less defensive. My parents were incredibly kind to her, and despite my serious illness, I would insist on her cuddling with me, which she initially disliked. However, she eventually grew to love it. After that period, I felt more capable, and life settled into a routine where we could truly enjoy our experiences, knowing what was safe and how to handle aggressive dogs.

It was a transformative time for both of us, leading to a much stronger bond and a deeper understanding of the world around us.

Over time, we became more adept at handling various situations, and she was certainly built for this lifestyle—having grown up on the road. I adopted her when she was around four months old, maybe even younger, so her only experience was living a nomadic life.

Aislyn: That’s amazing! I absolutely love some of the photos you shared, especially the one with her wearing goggles that’s featured in the story on Dinogo.com. It’s just . . .

Tom: Right? She was never a fan of those goggles. I tried numerous times to get her to wear booties, particularly in Central America where the heat was intense, but she just refused. She would walk and flick them off as much as she could. On those scorching days in Honduras or Costa Rica, the asphalt was almost unbearable, and she would say, No way am I wearing these booties. Her paws were like rocks; it was truly remarkable.

Aislyn: Wow, she truly was a force of nature. I mean, just . . .

Tom: She really was.

Aislyn: She certainly had a vibrant personality.

Tom: Absolutely. She was full of character, no doubt about it.

Aislyn: What was it like to write the memoir and revisit all those memories while putting it all together?

Tom: I truly enjoyed it. It was an incredible experience. I’ve been writing since shortly after college, creating numerous rather poor science fiction novels repeatedly. But when I started walking, it marked my first attempt at writing in the first person.

Throughout those seven years, I gradually honed my voice and perspective. However, writing the memoir presented a different challenge entirely; it was about solving a complex puzzle and weaving together the intricate journey of evolving from a sheltered suburban young man into a world traveler, expanding my awareness and understanding of the world significantly.

Thus, I found myself spending days and weeks sifting through my journals, highlighting the moments I thought were intriguing enough to weave into a story. I also asked myself, How does this reflect my personal growth, and what does it reveal about the world and its cultures?

It was about layering everything simultaneously and discovering the right stories to convey this narrative. Revisiting my journals was a true delight, as it brought back memories I might have overlooked or forgotten. Going through photos and videos felt like reliving those experiences from a new angle.

Aislyn: In one of the excerpts we discussed, you mentioned being in Georgia, and I was intrigued by your appreciation for the ambience there. You specified it was the country Georgia, not the state, although you might enjoy the state too.

I wanted to understand what you meant by that and if there are other places you felt a strong connection to or would revisit if given the chance?

Tom: It’s a challenging concept to express. What I mean is that every culture or location has its own essence, a sense of identity that subtly reveals itself. Initially, when you begin traveling, you may not recognize it; you lack the experience to compare different places. However, as time passes and you explore more destinations, you notice that some places excel in certain aspects, including the overall ambience, which encompasses elements like the conversations people have and the colors of the walls.

What about the furniture? How's the food? It's all these small details combined. Ultimately, it boils down to a feeling that this is a well-rounded place, one that has been established for a long time. Turkey exemplifies this as it borders Georgia. It's a remarkably diverse nation—if I'm using that term correctly. It blends numerous cultures and histories, yet retains a strong sense of pride in its identity, which it openly embraces.

This doesn’t necessarily mean it’s like Georgia, which has a slightly more homogenous culture. Georgia has its own unique heritage, language, and cuisine, giving it a distinct presence. Denmark embodies this feeling too. Algeria possesses it as well, though in a peculiar manner. It feels quite isolated and deeply religious, leading conversations in a similar vein.

Aislyn: Oh, really?

Tom: Yet, it still conveys a sense of wholeness. I apologize if I'm struggling to articulate this concept; it’s a complex idea to express.

Aislyn: It is. But I understand... it’s like they possess a strong sense of identity, a self-awareness, even amid various influences. Was Algeria where you had a police escort for most of your walk?

Tom: That's right. I actually had police escorts throughout all of North Africa. In Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco, the escorts were relatively brief since I was only in each country for a short time. However, in Algeria, I had an escort for 45 days. At first, it was amazing because the local guides would direct me to the nearest restaurants and order the best local dishes for me.

But after about two weeks, I was eager to have some privacy and not feel constantly monitored. Plus, I had to stay in a hotel every night, which made the days feel somewhat constrained, a situation I didn't particularly enjoy. I still prefer the flow of sleeping outdoors, where one day naturally transitions into the next. Overall, though, it was a great experience.

The escorts were always wonderful and incredibly friendly.

Aislyn: You mentioned earlier that boredom set in at times, and I’m curious why you think that’s significant in the pilgrim journey. Why should people endure those moments when they're questioning themselves, thinking, Oh my god, what am I doing?

Why am I even here?

Tom: Absolutely, that's an excellent question. It’s crucial because boredom is essential for self-discovery. It provides the mental space for your thoughts to drift and allows for the absurdity of ideas to emerge. Today, we have so little opportunity to let our minds roam freely.

The advantages of walking are subtle and gradual; they don't hit you all at once. When you find yourself bored—say, on the Camino or hiking the Appalachian Trail or the Pacific Crest Trail—and you encounter stretches of days or even hours without distractions, that's when you begin to understand what’s happening within you. If you observe closely, you can see how your thoughts ebb and flow and how you're processing them. This process also quickens the journey toward inner peace, a deeper sense of tranquility that walking fosters and helps you discover more about yourself.

Aislyn: That makes sense. Do you recognize the Tom who embarked on that journey years ago?

Tom: I wouldn't recognize him at all. He was such a fool; he really was an idiot. I was always a nice kid, but honestly, I was so naive, and it wasn’t even entirely my fault. I simply had seen so little of the world and had experienced so little. It's one of those things where you just don't know what you haven't yet learned.

Aislyn: And you have to begin somewhere.

Tom: You have to begin somewhere, and once you're out there, looking back, you realize that many of the insights I now take for granted were completely foreign to me before. This realization makes the transition from walking to returning to everyday life quite challenging, as I find it hard to relate to some people. There are things I consider normal that others may not even notice.

It’s really about shifting from being a sheltered suburbanite to someone who has experienced much more. Honestly, I used to be quite foolish.

Aislyn: What advice would you give to those wanting to embark on a walking pilgrimage, even if it's something smaller like the Kumano Kodo or the Camino?

Tom: Absolutely, I would encourage you to do it! It’s a wonderful experience. Regarding the growth and tranquility you gain from walking and self-discovery, I suggest embracing the boredom. Don’t expect the journey to constantly entertain or fulfill you. Walking provides its gifts through space—allowing you to rest under trees when tired, to observe leaves, to sweat and feel your legs ache, to be frustrated by the heat and then find comfort in the shade—it’s a heavenly contrast.

So my advice is to approach your walk without specific expectations. Let it offer you the space you need to reflect and untangle your thoughts.

Aislyn: Wow, I feel like you're going to inspire a whole army of walkers.

Tom: Honestly, it's quite subtle. We've touched on this before, but it truly takes time to appreciate the benefits of walking. It's so underrated, yet it requires a significant amount of time to begin recognizing its effects. I believe it’s tough to walk enough to really understand what’s going on.

Aislyn: I’d love to know what’s next for you. Do you have any plans?

Tom: I'm not sure. I've been dedicating so much time and effort to this memoir for the last two years, and it's finally going to press today.

Aislyn: Wow.

I reviewed the final manuscript a couple of days ago, so for the first time in two years, it's genuinely out of my hands.

Aislyn: Incredible.

Tom: Now, I'm brainstorming what my next steps will be. I'm engaging in motivational speaking, which I find really fulfilling, sharing the beliefs I hold dear. In the past, I would have felt like a fraud standing on stage discussing these topics. I enjoy it now, but as for my next goal, I'm still figuring that out.

Aislyn: Do you think walking will play a role in that?

Tom: I definitely want to continue walking, and I would love to do the Camino again. I’ve done parts of the Appalachian Trail, so there are many things I’d like to explore. We'll just have to wait and see what comes next.

Aislyn: All right, we’ll keep our eyes open to see where your journey leads you.

Tom: Absolutely.

Aislyn: Thank you so much, Tom.

Tom: Thank you, I appreciate it.

And that was Tom Turcich. To preorder his memoir, visit his website at worldwalk.com. You can also find information about his children's book there. We’ll add those links in the show notes, along with the link to the YouTube version of our conversation, which features some bonus content. You can follow Tom on Instagram at @theworldwalk.

Next week, we’ll return with the final episode of Travel Tales for season five: a deep dive into the river-swimming culture of Switzerland with writer and open-water swimmer Bonnie Tsui.

Craving more Travel Tales? Head over to Dinogo.com/podcast, and don't forget to follow us on Instagram and X at @Dinogomedia. If you enjoyed today’s journey, I hope you’ll join us again for more captivating stories. Subscribing makes it effortless!

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You’ve been listening to Travel Tales, a production of Dinogo Media. This podcast is produced by Aislyn Greene and Nikki Galteland, with music composed and produced by Strike Audio.

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