Driving the World’s Longest Road: The Pan American Highway
Join me as I attempt to drive the longest road in the world: The Pan American Highway. This expedition will take me +20,000 miles from the top of the Canadian Arctic to the bottom of Chilean Patagonia.
In the Beginning
The expedition got off to a terrible start. Although, perhaps that’s a rite of passage for all true adventures. In some ways it was doomed from its inception. The scope of our plan was expansive and wide open to blunders. Even under ordinary circumstances we were risking a lot. Trying to do this same journey during a global pandemic was another matter entirely.
Before I build up too much suspense, it’s best if I go back to the genesis of the idea. James and I have been best friends since nursery. We’ve always had a strong sense of adventure and enjoy the rougher aspects of life. We share similar values about what we want to do with our time and how we wish to live out each day.
Travelling got in my blood a few years before James. I was 19 when I went backpacking for the first time and it’s stayed with me ever since. James waited until after graduating from art school to go on his first trip around South East Asia at the age of 24.
Yet there were always schemes bubbling in the background. We constantly had a desire to do a trip like nothing else. One which would test every adventurous fibre in our body. We wanted to do a trip that we would never look back from. A long expedition that would spark the rest of our lives.
The Pan American Highway
Almost two years ago, we came up with an idea. The concept was simple enough. We wanted to buy a camper van and drive from the top of North America to the bottom of South America. We discovered there was a road that would let us do just that. But this was no ordinary highway, it was in fact, the longest road in the world, more commonly called the Pan American Highway.
At first this idea lingered in the territory of a pipe dream, but the more we disguised how we would go about executing it, the more excited we became. Initially, we didn’t get too carried away. We simply allowed ourselves to talk about the fundamentals of travel and adventure. If there were no road blocks, what is one trip we would want to do?
Time and again we came back to the Pan American Highway. We wanted to use it as a spine for our broader adventure all across the americas. It had everything we could possibly want.
It would take time, and lots of it. Anywhere between 1-2 years. Time we now had to spare. Our lives had both changed of late. Strings had been cut, even if we didn’t want them to be. The road was open. All we had to do was step out the door.
The road would take us to exotic locations, to say the least. Our plan had us travelling through 14 – 17 countries across every geographical landscape imaginable.
We would be travelling in a way neither of us had done before. A van seemed like the ultimate way to express this freedom. Our own space where we didn’t have to pay for accommodation and could drive wherever we liked whenever we wanted to.
It would immerse us into fascinating cultures with perspectives vastly different to our own. First Nations people and American Indians; Aztecs, Mayans, and Incas; North American settlers and conquistador survivors. The complexities of these cultures all combined and clashing ready for us to witness.
We could hike and explore nature and wilderness to our heart’s content. With the van and all our hiking equipment stored away, there was nothing to stop us from spanning the continents in search of outdoor adventures.
Everything was there and we were delirious with excitement. Though, of course, a trip this big doesn’t come without its sacrifices, or a great deal of planning.
The Long Wait
Decision made, we set out a checklist for us to complete. Our departure date was set for September 2021. In that 16 month time-frame we hoped that COVID would have settled down enough to allow travel to recommence.
We agreed to get as close to £10,000 each to fund our trip. I wanted to complete a freelance journalism degree. I also wanted to build a framework for earning money by writing whilst abroad. Lastly, we wanted to both be vaccinated.
So we got to work. I worked as a gardener, labourer/carpenter, and freelance writer. I did a 6-month travel writing course from the London School of Journalism and I began to build a content writing network whilst growing Walk Wild in the background.
James worked even harder. He was adamant on saving up well over £10,000, in which he succeeded. He worked as a waiter and barman before being promoted to a supervisor. He then spent the summer working 70 hour weeks as a chef in a food truck.
During this time I lived at home and James lodged in a room above the pub. We gradually sold or gave away the majority of our possessions. We didn’t go on holiday and we reduced spending across the board in an attempt to save as much money as possible.
We made the decision not to share our Pan American Highway plans with anyone. It was an adventure only the two of us knew about. It seemed too early to share what ideas we had due to the state of the world during the pandemic. We didn’t want to be scorned and ridiculed for having a dream.
Go, Go, Go!
The months ticked by and still we couldn’t depart for our trip. The September deadline began to look less and less likely. After hassling the NHS daily in an attempt to get a vaccine, we eventually received our first dose in June.
This just gave us a large enough window to get a second dose before we could leave in September. Yet no travel had opened up. We still couldn’t get to the US or Canada to begin the trip. But I had faith, I kept telling James it would happen. With vaccination rates going up, it had to happen.
By this time we’d shared our plans with some friends and family but were certainly not shouting it from the rooftops. Then, out of the blue, at the end of August, I noticed an update on Canada’s immigration website. A site I’d been checking every other day for weeks.
They were due to open the borders for fully-vaccinated travellers on the 9th of September. The time was here; the door had finally opened. For a starting point, Canada would have to do. So James and I booked flights for the 14th of September giving us less than 3 weeks to prepare for departure.
We rushed around organising ourselves for the trip and saying goodbyes to friends and family. In a way, we had felt ready to leave for a long, long time, so the preparations were easier than you might expect for a 1.5 year trip.
Although, as I’ve always said, the longer you have to travel, the less you have to pack. All you really need is desire and passion.
Falling at the Last Hurdle
The days ticked by. Departure was almost in touching distance. The last hurdle involved booking in a “test to fly”. This is a specific PCR test that must be acquired from a private clinic within 72-hours before departure.
James and I booked our tests at Collinson, Heathrow Airport, for the eye-watering price of £70 each. Two days later we arrived at the centre and were told we’d need a rapid test to get the results in less than 48-hours.
Of course, this was not labelled clearly on the website or during the booking process. Another £25 each. The worst money spent so far.
Tests complete, we headed home and waited to get the results. 2 hours later and James had received his negative result. Despite being on the same booking, mine was yet to come back.
2.5 hours came and went, then 3 hours, then 3.5. During this time panic began to rise in me like bile. I had a dreadful fear in my heart that something was terribly wrong. Shortly before the 4 hour mark my result came back.
It was positive.
Just like that, my world came crashing down.
What Next?
To say I was devastated would be an understatement. All the planning, all the sacrifices, all the time spent waiting for this trip to start and I was prevented from leaving 36 hours before we were due to depart.
I couldn’t make sense of it. I was double vaccinated with my second dose being 16 days prior. I was asymptomatic and I’d already had COVID once before. How could I have it again? None of it made sense.
I immediately took a lateral flow test. It was negative. Fearing a false positive, I booked another PCR test for 6am the following morning, around 16 hours after my first test. Of course, this PCR test came back negative.
I took another lateral flow test just to make sure, this too came back negative. All the signs pointed to the test being a false positive. To make matters even more unclear, I received a call from the NHS who had the wrong details on file for me.
Had I been given the result for someone else?
It was a tortuous few days. I was caught between the airline, the private health company, the NHS, Hampshire track and trace, and the Canadian immigration system.
At last I made a decision. The Pan American Highway trip was due to last 1.5 years, why start it on a bad foot? No matter how much I refuted the result or tried to get answers, I couldn’t get a workable solution in time before departure.
I had to make my choice and my god was it a hard one. James would go ahead of me as planned on the 14th. I would have to stay home for 10 days and watch him head off on our trip of a lifetime.
In that moment it felt like the dream had ended.
A Waiting Game
While I sat around at home feeling sorry for myself, James flew to Vancouver. For him, the adventure had begun and it was time to get exploring. If only it were that simple.
James arrived feeling at a loose end and disjointed from the trip we had originally planned. He spent days hanging around Vancouver in overpriced hostels spending too much money. Not exactly the best start to the adventure for him either.
A highlight was when he went to Squamish and spent the day hiking the Chief. He also began to search for camper vans and research what vehicles were on the market. He did what he could to stay busy but without me there, the trip felt half-baked.
8 days later, I took another test, this time a home test from Randox Health. Cheaper (£45) and easier. After a long and gruelling wait, I received my result. It was negative. At last, I was going to Canada.
The Journey Begins
2 days passed before I was at Heathrow Airport ready for my flight to Vancouver. Though, It wasn’t the most relaxing journey of my life. All throughout the flight, I felt on edge. I didn’t want to get my hopes up after all the disappointment of the last few weeks.
But there was no need to fret. I passed through immigration without a hitch and who was there to meet me but my travel partner and best friend James. Jubilation. Elation. Celebration. Any of those words will do.
We were beside ourselves with excitement, delirious almost. It was finally here. The trip had begun; the trip had started. The Pan American Highway lay ahead of us and we were rearing to get going.
We spent the first night strolling around Granville Island and drinking Canadian craft beer. The next day we explored Gastown and cycled around the magnificent Stanley Park.
The next day, looking for a cheaper hostel, we moved out to Jericho Beach. Making the most of my jet lag, I watched some stunning sunrises from the pier and allowed the feeling of relief to wash over me.
We spent a day hiking along the foreshore trail around Acadia and Wreck Beach before visiting the Museum of Anthropology to learn about the First Nations.
The day was a fairly innocent affair until we reached Wreck Beach. Unbeknownst to us, this is a famous area for nudists and exhibitionists. Initially nothing too drastic happened as we strolled along the sand.
It wasn’t until we followed the trail into the forest that events worsened. I won’t go into too much detail, suffice it to say that the shadowy nooks and hidden coves are also home to more insidious acts of – excuse the term – dogging.
The farther we walked, the worse it got. Hungry eyes glared at us from behind trees. Almost exclusively from old and middle-aged men. Leaning on trees and watching us. Groping hands and panting breaths flashed through the undergrowth.
The trail narrowed, wedged between a steep cliff and a marsh. It was muggy and the light was dappled. There was no way to go but forward. We pushed on, keeping our heads down. Walking through hell like meat in a slaughterhouse .
Eventually we reached the end of the trail and rejoined the road at the top of the cliff. From here we breathed in the fresh air of freedom before turning back to the hostel.
This experience all but served as the death knell for our time in Vancouver. With some sightseeing out of our system we turned to our most important task, finding a camper van. And that’s where the problems really began to start.
Before You Go
Thanks for reading about Season 1 – Episode 1 of my Pan American Highway adventure. This story follows my YouTube docuseries.
If you want to support this expedition you can send me a donation on PayPal. Thank you in advance for any help as every penny makes a difference on our expedition.
You can also send me a beer to say thanks! Cheers 🍻!
If you’re new to Walk Wild, check out the About Me page to learn who I am and what made me want to be a travel writer.
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