I've previously recommended the documentary Long Way Round, in which actors Ewan MacGregor and Charley Boorman ride their motorcycles from London to New York the long way: through Europe to Ukraine to to Russia to Kazakhstan to Mongolia to Siberia to Alaska to Canada to New York. It was with some excitement, then, that I cracked open the companion book. As I read about their encounters with mafia and muggers, soldiers and peasants, lamb heads and bull testicles, something gnawed at me. I wasn't enjoying it as much as I should. They went on the adventure of anyone's lifetime, with all the resources in the world at their disposal, yet their account was oddly rote—less interesting to me than any random travel blog. And then I read the following passage, written by Boorman, and the problem became crystal clear.
I was euphoric. We'd survived the mud, rivers and bogs. We'd done it. It was a fantastic achievement. "At least it's good practice for Siberia," I said.The ride the next day to Nomrog was fantastic. The sun was shining, it was windy, we didn't make too many mistakes and the scenery was just fantastic.
We had a very long journey the next day via Tosontsengel, where we had a fantastic lunch, to White Lake. In the late afternoon, we came screaming down a long pass towards a large bridge. There, standing beside the bridge, was the support team. It was great to see them. We'd got all through the toughest part of the journey, a fantastic achievement.
So you already said. Pity that a team who thought to hire a professional photographer didn't likewise bring someone with command of more than three adjectives. It'd sure make reading about their adventures suitably fantastic.