This September, I began walking along the river Danube, with the hope that I might just become the first person to walk its entirety from source to sea. For some reason, no one had tried to walk all 2,850km of the river before, so I thought that I may as well attempt it myself. 

When I later told my spicy little Spanish friend, Inés González Miguéns, about the trip, she ended up booking a last-minute flight out to Germany and joining me for a grand two weeks. That was until Vienna, where she slinked off to a back alley hostel in Slovakia to lead bar crawls and get foot tattoos.

To date, I’ve covered 550 miles out of a (suspected) total 1,770, with the last major city stop being in Vienna, Austria. The Danube flows through more countries than any other in the world, so I still have Slovakia, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Romania, Bulgaria, Moldova, and Ukraine to look forward to. If they’ll have us, that is.

So far, we’ve slept in nunneries, communes, Mc Mansions, farmer’s sheds, luxury apartments, forest floors, “man caves”, and old bank buildings. We’ve stayed with spiritual healers, MLM pushers, cult leaders, Michelin star chefs, homophobes (oops), tea masters, and one guy who tried to molest us in the night. Every evening, we stay with a new stranger, relying on their kindness for food and a place to rest our heads, and have met some truly incredible people along the way (apart from that last guy, who ended up calling us “unworthy” for rejecting his advances).

Each night is completely new and a little crazy, and I’m absolutely loving it.

One question that we’ve been asked a lot along the way is, what’s the motivation for doing something like this? Apart from the temptation of international fame or elevated success within the adventure industry (neither which, unsurprisingly, have happened… yet), there were a couple other reasons to set out on a journey like this.

Doing it for the girls and the gays

Firstly, one of the biggest motivations for undertaking this expedition was to break down stereotypes for female and LGBTQ+ travellers.

I’ve always been told that travelling as a woman is dangerous, and that we simply aren’t made for this sort of thing – and yet, here I am, doing something that was previously deemed impossible. I don’t know if you’ve noticed the straight white ‘heroic’ male archetype that seems to plague the travel isles at Waterstones and the interviews on Good Morning Britain, but frankly, it’s started to grate on me. The industry is completely over-saturated with people like this, and as such, those who don’t quite fit that criteria face incredible prejudices when undertaking similar expeditions.

And so, I hope that by doing a walk like this, I will be able to challenge the stereotypes and expectations for queer female travellers in the industry, breaking down whatever walls that have been put up to stop us from doing exactly what we’re meant to be doing.

So far, this journey has been empowering unlike anything else I have ever experienced. Amongst the fairytale beauty of the Black Forest, the quaintness of European villages, and the wilderness of the continent’s many great forests, I can’t help but think, holy fry, I’m really doing it. Being able to roam the earth freely in a way that my female ancestors could not makes me feel both honoured and empowered.

And frankly, that’s enough motivation for me.

Doing it for the crohnies

Or at least, it should be, in theory.

But then there’s also the fact that I have Crohn’s Disease.

On average, I aim to cover around 35km a day, burning no less than 3,000 calories in any 24-hour period. This would presumably be quite difficult for an able-bodied person, but for someone that suffers with Crohn’s disease and everything that comes with it, it often feels pretty much impossible.

I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease in 2014, and since then, have constantly been battling against an autoimmune response that aims for nothing other than shutting down my whole body. I get blepharitis, psoriasis, and all of the blood, sh*t, and tears that come along with not having a single functioning intestine. It is, quite frankly, the most horrendous thing to ever happen to me, and I still battle with it daily.

Still, I knew that I wanted to do something big, and there was no way in hell that I was letting this illness get in the way. So I bulk ordered my medication, bought endless digestion tablets, and told my doctor that I was about to do something incredibly reckless and it would be great if he could remain contactable, and booked my flight.

Luckily, we haven’t been camping as much as I expected we would (in fact, after the first night we camped and woke up covered in parasites, we sent the tent home to never be used again), so I’ve had steady(ish) access to people’s homes, and the stability of a bed and toilet each night. Regardless, the seven hours minimum of walking each day leaves a lot of room for error, and it’s been especially challenging to keep it all under control.

Regardless, I am constantly impressed that my body even has the strength to do something like this. Who knew that my diseased, withering, pathetic human shell could walk 550 miles in a month and still be ready to function the next morning? Now, I truly realise just how strong I am and how much potential my body has, and want to shout to the world about it. This is a massive difference to when I was first diagnosed and wanted to keep it all under wraps, too ashamed to tell anyone about it, and I’m proud of just how far I’ve come.

With the finish line looking to be in eastern Romania in late December, I’m super excited to see how cultures, languages, and landscapes change along the way. And of course, I am honoured to do so as a female LGBTQ+ traveller with Crohn’s disease, with my head thoroughly stuck in the clouds.

Doing it to save the river

Doing it, quite simply, for the vibes

But of course, there are endless reasons at the heart of why I wanted to do a trip like this. When people ask, I sometimes just skip all of the above and go off on something else: I read a lot of Levison Wood, I have nothing better to do, I want to be known for doing things that no one else has done, I like rivers, I wanted to explore Europe, I thought that it would be a great way of sampling each town’s version of dumplings. Whatever the reason, though, no one seems to be satisfied… So quite simply, I am doing this whole darn thing for the vibes.

Of course, I will let you all know how we get on over the next few months. To stay up to date with the expedition, you can always follow my Instagram at Wandering_Everywhere or sign up to the newsletter (subscription box is at the bottom of the page).

UPDATE: We finally finished the walk on the 14th September 2022, more or less a year after we started. Stay tuned for the next adventure!

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