The Story of a Man Who’s Been Walking Around the World for 28 Years – Started in 1998, and He’s Still Going

July 25, 2025
|In Inspiration, Health
|By MT

There’s something sacred about a promise made in silence—a decision so bold it doesn’t ask for applause, just action. In 1998, Karl Bushby made one of those promises. He would walk around the world—literally—starting from the southern tip of Chile and ending only when he reached his hometown of Hull, England. No cars, no shortcuts, no excuses. Just his feet, his will, and a map that would take nearly three decades to complete. While most people dream of seeing the world, Bushby chose to feel every inch of it—step by step, mile by mile, year by year.

This isn’t just a story about endurance. It’s a meditation on commitment, discomfort, and the quiet power of doing something the hard way, on purpose. It’s about what happens when a person decides that the journey isn’t just the means to an end—it is the end. Because in a culture that glorifies speed, Karl Bushby chose slowness. In a world of detours, he stayed the course. And in a time when quitting has a hundred justifications, he kept walking.

The Vision — Walking the World with No Shortcuts

In 1998, Karl Bushby laced up his boots in Punta Arenas, Chile, and began a journey that most would consider impossible: to walk 36,000 miles around the world and return to his hometown of Hull, England—without ever using a vehicle. No planes, no buses, not even a bicycle. Just one foot in front of the other, across continents, through jungles, war zones, and frozen seas. His rule was simple but unwavering—every inch must be walked under his own power. The moment he accepted a ride or cut a corner, the mission would be void in his eyes. This wasn’t about publicity or records. It was about integrity, discipline, and honoring a commitment that became bigger than just a walk.

Bushby’s journey, now nearing its 28th year, is not simply a long-distance trek—it’s a test of character. While the Earth’s equator spans roughly 24,900 miles, his path has extended far beyond that as he wove through terrain dictated not by efficiency, but by possibility. He’s crossed continents and cultures, braved the ice of the Bering Strait, the swamps of the Darien Gap, and political borders that have bent but never broken his resolve. In 2024, rather than break his rule against mechanized travel, he swam 186 miles across the Caspian Sea with support from the Azerbaijani coastguard. That decision wasn’t driven by adrenaline or ego—it was about staying true to a promise, to himself and to the journey.

What began as an ambitious expedition has evolved into a metaphor for endurance in the face of an unpredictable world. Global financial crashes, pandemics, visa denials, and war have all tried to halt him. But Karl didn’t build this vision on convenience—he built it on consistency, on the willingness to keep showing up, one step at a time, regardless of the terrain ahead. To walk the world is one thing. But to stay committed through nearly three decades of change—personal, political, and global—that’s something else entirely. It’s not just the Earth he’s crossed—it’s time, and it’s life.

Through Ice, Borders, and Bureaucracy — The Obstacles That Shaped the Journey

Walking the Earth might sound poetic, even romantic, but in Karl Bushby’s reality, it’s often been anything but. His route has taken him through some of the most dangerous and logistically impossible regions on the planet—places where geography is punishing and politics are unforgiving. In 2001, he became one of the few people to cross the Darien Gap on foot—a lawless, swampy stretch of jungle between Panama and Colombia, notorious for drug cartels, wild terrain, and impassable paths. Years later, he made headlines again for crossing the frozen Bering Strait into Russia in 2006, navigating unstable sea ice while carrying a rifle for polar bear protection. That crossing, while legendary, came at a steep price. Russian authorities detained him and issued a five-year visa ban, stalling his progress indefinitely and underscoring how even a step forward can trigger a bureaucratic wall.

When global politics shifted, so did Karl’s path. In 2022, his planned entry into Europe was blocked by the war in Ukraine, closing off yet another route and forcing him to improvise in ways no map could predict. Iran was off-limits, and instead of flying or giving up, he swam 186 miles across the Caspian Sea in 2024, an almost unimaginable detour made possible only through diplomatic support and sheer willpower. Even then, his journey was slowed again when his visa in Turkey expired after 180 days, forcing him to wait it out in Mexico until he could re-enter Europe legally. In a world connected by flights and fast lanes, Bushby’s strict no-transport rule has meant every closed door carries real consequences—days, months, or even years of waiting and recalibrating.

But what makes these challenges more than just anecdotes is that each one could have been a reasonable excuse to quit. Visa bans, frozen seas, military checkpoints, and global conflicts are more than detours—they’re walls most people would stop at. Yet Karl kept moving. He found routes where there were none, endured extreme weather, and navigated foreign legal systems with no guarantee of success. The obstacles didn’t just slow the journey—they became part of it, defining it. This walk isn’t just a testament to stamina—it’s a masterclass in resilience, in problem-solving, and in refusing to let outside circumstances dictate inner purpose.

The Emotional Toll — A Life Lived in Transit

For most people, adventure ends where the heartache begins—but for Karl Bushby, they’ve always walked side by side. While his 36,000-mile journey has been framed by physical feats and geopolitical hurdles, the deeper cost has been emotional. Over the course of nearly three decades, Bushby has spent the vast majority of his life alone, often disconnected from family and friends for months or even years at a time. Communication has been sporadic at best. He’s spoken openly about how few times his family has been able to visit him throughout the journey—an unintended consequence of committing to a route that makes home feel further away with every step forward.

This kind of isolation doesn’t just test your body—it reshapes your identity. The longer Bushby has walked, the more his life has become intertwined with the journey itself. The line between the man and the mission has blurred. When you live in motion for 28 years, sleeping in tents, relying on the kindness of strangers, and constantly recalculating your next step, the question of “Who am I without this?” quietly lingers in the background. And yet, even with the uncertainty and solitude, Karl has carried on—not out of obligation, but out of a sense of unfinished purpose. Every delay, visa issue, or geographic dead end hasn’t just threatened the logistics of the trek—it has challenged his emotional endurance.

There’s a heavy kind of courage in walking forward when there’s no fanfare, no safety net, and no guaranteed ending. For Bushby, the hardest terrain hasn’t always been physical—it’s been the inner landscape. The loneliness. The distance. The years slipping by while the rest of the world moved on. And still, he never allowed bitterness to outwalk hope. That kind of emotional discipline—the ability to stay present, grateful, and focused despite the weight of time and sacrifice—is arguably the most extraordinary part of this journey. Because while the world may see a man walking across countries, what’s unfolding inside him is a far deeper expedition: the long, quiet path of becoming.

Defining Moments — Where the Path Became the Purpose

Every journey has its milestones, but for Karl Bushby, a few moments have come to symbolize everything his walk stands for—commitment, courage, and the willingness to face the unknown. Crossing the Darien Gap in 2001 was the first major test, a place few dare to enter on foot. It’s not just a wild stretch of jungle—it’s a crucible of danger, lawlessness, and environmental extremes. Getting through it required more than physical stamina; it demanded nerve, navigation, and a deep trust in instinct. It wasn’t just a segment of the route—it was a line in the sand that separated adventure from obsession, curiosity from conviction.

Years later, the Bering Strait posed a different kind of challenge. In 2006, Bushby crossed the frozen channel from Alaska into Russia, walking across shifting sea ice armed with a rifle to guard against polar bears. It was a symbolic leap—not just between continents, but between stages of the journey. That crossing brought media attention and public admiration, but it also led to a five-year visa ban that halted his momentum entirely. The cost of progress, in this case, was years of waiting. Still, that moment became one of the most iconic of the entire expedition—a reminder that no path worth walking is ever free of consequence.

Perhaps the most unlikely and poetic moment came in 2024, when he swam 186 miles across the Caspian Sea. Blocked from entering Iran and still refusing to use transportation, Bushby took to the water. With support from Azerbaijani swimmers and coastguards, he completed the swim not for glory, but to protect the integrity of the mission. It was a decision born not from ego but from principle—a refusal to break the chain he started decades ago. These moments aren’t just impressive—they’re clarifying. They show us that this journey was never about reaching Hull. It was about proving, to himself and to the world, that commitment is more than a word—it’s a way of living, even when everything around you says stop.

One Step at a Time — What This Walk Says About Us All

Karl Bushby may be walking alone, but what his journey reveals belongs to all of us. In a world obsessed with shortcuts, instant gratification, and convenience, his 36,000-mile commitment stands as a quiet rebellion. It’s a reminder that not every path has to be efficient to be meaningful. Sometimes, the longer route is the one that teaches us who we are. When faced with red tape, geopolitical conflict, and personal sacrifice, Bushby never abandoned the walk—not because it was easy, but because it was his. That kind of conviction, carried day after day, year after year, in silence and solitude, speaks louder than any viral success story ever could.

His story isn’t about walking the world—it’s about walking through the resistance, both external and internal, that tells us to quit when things get hard. Bushby didn’t just cover distance; he crossed thresholds of self-doubt, loneliness, and uncertainty that most of us try to avoid. And he did it with a simple principle: keep going. Not perfectly. Not quickly. Just forward. That mindset is something we can all carry, whether we’re navigating a career change, rebuilding a relationship, or trying to make sense of the world around us. The terrain may differ, but the lesson is the same—progress doesn’t come from rushing; it comes from showing up, again and again.

So the question this journey leaves us with is not “Could I walk the world?” but something more personal—What promise have I made to myself that I’ve been avoiding because the road looks too long? Bushby’s walk isn’t just a physical marvel—it’s a mirror. It reflects the power of consistency, the beauty of unfinished work, and the quiet nobility of not giving up. In a time when it’s easier than ever to turn around, his footsteps whisper a message we need to hear: your path matters, even when no one is watching. Especially then.