Since I went on this trip, I have taken time to think about how it went, as well as how I felt about it. And I wanted to share some of those thoughts because, as much as my website is about travelling and adventure, once it’s over – and like everything in this world, it will come to an end – what are you left with? For the most part, what you make of the experience in your mind, is what you are left with.

I’m not here to use hindsight to point out how I could have made other decisions or discuss what would have happened if I’d done things a little differently. Instead, I’m here to think about how I feel now – looking back.

First off, I have no regrets about choosing to travel to Tasmania, rather than stay in a city to work, despite my lack of money. I started with enough to get me around and fed. When I left, I had around $100 to my name – enough to get me a flight to Melbourne, then a bus two hours north to working hostel, where I agreed to pay rent only once work began – around a week or two later. Despite the precariousness of my situation, I was content I had spent the past three weeks as I had set out to do when I arrived in Australia – to see as much of the country as possible.

I’m unsure how I’m perceived by others, either those that know me, or those who are reading this. I might come across as emotionally cold, or unwavering in my desire to travel. However, I do have doubts when I’m on the road. Not least when I have next to no money, without work lined up. Perhaps it is with benefit of hindsight after all, because I did find work relatively soon after, and my worries about money disappeared. But I can’t help thinking I shouldn’t have been as concerned when I was hitchhiking and camping around Tasmania, about what would follow.

There were times, usually when I stayed in hostels in a town, I felt I could have been doing more to find work. Particularly when I met other travellers who were working in the area. This uncertainty made me question the path I was taking, and if it was the right one. As I write this, I realise it’s almost guaranteed we all question what we do with our life – so my situation isn’t unusual or unique. Had I been less concerned about what was happening after my trip, though, I could have taken the time in those evenings to relax, rather than look despairingly for work – and becoming down heartened when I didn’t find it.

I also felt lonely at times. I was lucky to find a few people along the way I could have great and memorable interactions with, which I will never forget. Yet, at times, I would go a few days with conversation limited to half an hour or so in a car, before being dropped off in the middle of nowhere. Now, sitting here writing this on a weekend off from my 9-5 job, in London – one of the largest population centres in the world – I would jump at the chance to have one week in a deserted, picturesque part of the world, let alone three.

Looking at how I felt then, compared to how I feel now, could suggest I will always want the opposite of what I have at the time. I think that would simplify the attitudes I have had. I think it’s more accurate to say, like everything in life, there’s a balance. It’d be nice to have some security around money as well as enjoying time off. Likewise, I appreciate peace and quiet, being in nature, exploring a new area every day or two. Travelling alone, with my backpack, on my own schedule, allowed me to do so. On the other hand, I enjoy company more than I might sometimes let on.

My experience in Tasmania was a learning curve for me. While I wish I could have changed my mind-set at the time, to fully immerse myself in the trip, it was also a maturing process for me. I understand my choice to go it alone, on a loosely defined trip into the natural areas of the park, without setting much time aside for work, was necessarily going to lead to times where I would be alone and uncertain. While it was natural to have some trepidation, only I could change my choice – and I didn’t. Regardless of whether I found work soon after, or instead had to borrow money from somewhere, or even fly home early from Australia, I wasn’t going to regret my choice to attempt this trip. I made my choice, and I could accept the downsides, particularly considering all the upsides.

That I didn’t understand my situation more clearly at the time was a shame for me, thinking back. Having come out the other side, I am in a better position to understand my thought process. And how to approach similar situations in the future.

Part of my learning was through the events on the trip itself. It’s not uncommon with hitchhiking to find someone you can have a very meaningful conversation with, about life, ambitions, struggles. It might be helped by the fact you are strangers that you are more open, but I found I could have deeper conversations than I might have with people I have known for years. On the beach with the lone penguin, meeting the local Dave, he talked to me about anxiety he struggled with most of his adult life. Until one day, around ten years ago before, he let it go. Walking along the beach, he put aside his worries and found peace within himself. He genuinely seemed contented and a far cry from someone who was weighed down with worries. And it wasn’t because a life event, or particular action or behaviour. He came to accept himself.

I’m not here as a self-help guru, to tell you your anxiety is your own creation which you can easily dispose of. I think, from my own experience, part of my worry was constantly debating in my head the choices I made, wondering whether I should have made a different one. Wondering ‘what if?’. Those are the thoughts that won’t go away – and are your own creation.

A huge decision, for example, taking a year out of studies or a six-month sabbatical from work, is one that comes with potential for huge risk. And you will never know what would have happened had you not taken that decision. You will have decisions to make often; where to stay, what to do, how to travel, and when to look for work. These necessitate weighing up the different options, being unsure of the right outcome, all the while in a foreign land, away from your friends and relations, without the usual comforts of home. You should, at least, be able to make those decisions without punishing your mind with constant doubt about whether you made the right choice.

The reason I wanted to go to Tasmania, and indeed why I’m writing about it now, is because of the spectacular scenery. Why it stands out from other trips is because of the challenge it presented, as well as the opportunities it presented. I did struggle at times and wished I had my own car, or could stay in a comfortable bed at night, or both.  Looking back, that was part of the experience. If I had not been on the side of the road, with my hand out asking for a ride, I would not have met and spoken to the twenty or thirty drivers who stopped to pick me up. A lot of modern life seems to be focused on increasing convenience. This was a challenge, taking me out of my comfort zone, physically and emotionally. Despite the difficulties, I managed to do what I set out to, visiting many of the National Parks of Tasmania.

Along the way, I had unforgettable moments I hadn’t expected; making friends I travelled with for a few hours or a few days, discovering the countless, beautiful beaches of Tasmania, waking up on a beach to the sight of a lone penguin wandering in from the sea – far from his natural home – not unlike myself, being surrounded by Tasmania’s weirdest and most wonderful wildlife, and finding myself alone in a vast wilderness. All this made this trip memorable, more so than the worries or uncertainties, or lack of security and comfort, and it’s a trip that will stay with me for the rest of my life.