Marc Hall: 24 Countries, One Toddler, and a Lesson in True Adventure
The Moment the True Adventure Began
True adventure did not arrive for Marc Hall as a tidy plan or a polished travel dream. It started at 19, when he packed his bags, left New Zealand, and moved halfway across the world on his own.
“It wasn’t about running away from anything,” he says. “It was about running towards something I couldn’t quite name yet.”
That kind of sentence makes more sense after the miles have added up. At the time, it is just a young person following a pull they cannot fully explain. Years later, after enough borders, bad sleep, strange cities, cancelled plans, cold mornings, and roads that did not care what the itinerary said, it starts to look like the first real yes.
Marc’s life has since stretched across mountains, deserts, coastlines, villages, train stations, airports, and long road days where nothing happened quickly. But the journey that changed the shape of adventure for him was cycling through 24 countries with his one-year-old son.
That is where distance stopped being the main story. Adventure became patience, snacks, naps, border crossings, weather, tiny socks, tired legs, and learning to move at the speed of family instead of ego.
Leaving New Zealand and learning to stay open
Marc’s first big yes came early. Leaving New Zealand at 19 was not just a move overseas. It was stepping into a life he had not worked out yet, with no guarantee the road would explain itself once he got there.
A lot of people wait for certainty before they go. Marc learned that the map often makes more sense once you are already moving. That does not make the leap easy, and it does not make saying yes automatically wise. It just means the safe option is not always the one that keeps you alive inside.
“Yes doesn’t mean reckless,” he says. “It just means staying open.”
That openness has shaped the best parts of his travels: conversations with strangers, meals that turned into memories, detours that became the point, and places he never expected to love. Saying yes did not mean everything worked out cleanly. It meant he stayed available when the road changed the question.
Portugal and the surprise of feeling settled
Ask Marc where home is and the answer does not sit neatly inside one country. For a while, home looked like a quiet Portuguese village tucked between hills and vineyards. It was not part of some grand plan, which is usually how the best chapters begin.
“It wasn’t in the plan,” he laughs. “But then again, most of the best things never are.”
Portugal became a base between rides. A place to unpack, breathe, and stop living as if every day had to prove something. After enough movement, that kind of pause starts to matter. You realise home is not always the place you came from, or the place you will stay forever. Sometimes it is simply where your bag hits the floor and your shoulders finally drop.
For Marc, Portugal became that for a while. Not permanent. Not claimed too loudly. Just real while it lasted.
The road does not care about your plan
Long-term travel looks clean from the outside because nobody photographs the admin. Marc is quick to point out the other side: visa paperwork, cancelled flights, fatigue, emotional dips, and the constant low-level work of figuring out what comes next.
“The reality isn’t less beautiful,” he says. “It’s just less polished.”
That is the better truth about travel. The hard parts do not cancel the beauty, but they are part of it. Marc has crossed the Himalayas with altitude and weather pressing in. He has watched flights get cancelled and plans dissolve overnight. He has had to adapt because the road does not owe anyone a smooth run.
“The only constant is change,” Marc says. “You can fight it, or you can flow with it. Flowing’s easier.”
That kind of flexibility is not a quote for a wall. It is what you learn when the route changes, the child is tired, the weather turns, and the day you planned no longer exists.
The useless thing in the bag
Every traveller carries something they do not really need. For Marc, it was a heavy book he kept promising himself he would read on long train rides.
“Never opened it,” he admits. “But somehow it kept making it into my bag, country after country. I guess we all carry something we don’t actually need.”
It is funny because most of us have our own version of that book. Some weight sits in the pack. Some sits in the head. Old expectations. Other people’s timelines. The pressure to make the trip look impressive. The belief that adventure only counts if it stays big, hard, and constant.
The road has a way of showing you what keeps taking up space. Once you see it, you get to decide whether it still gets to come with you.
Cycling through 24 countries with a toddler
Cycling through 24 countries sounds wild enough before you add a one-year-old. With a toddler, the whole thing changes. The pace slows. The stops multiply. Snacks become strategy. Sleep becomes sacred. A small mood shift can change the day faster than a mountain pass.
That is what makes Marc’s story worth paying attention to. He pushes back against the idea that fatherhood ends adventure. It does not end it. It strips the fantasy out of it and asks what kind of adventure can survive real life.
Some days that might mean ancient ruins or a huge view. Other days it might mean a roadside meal, a missed turn, a meltdown, or your child noticing something you would have ridden straight past alone.
The road becomes less about proving how far you can go and more about what kind of world you are showing your child along the way.
Why the quiet time matters
Travelling with family does not remove the need for solitude. It makes the small pockets of it more valuable. For Marc, quiet time is where the miles settle. It might be a hostel bunk, a café table, or a few minutes before the next bit of family chaos kicks back in.
“It’s when I write, when I think, when I process what’s happening,” he says.
Through his blog, Life Went That Way, Marc turns movement into story. Not to make it look cleaner than it was, but to understand what actually happened out there. Long-term travel is rarely one feeling at a time. It is beauty, tiredness, boredom, stress, comedy, wonder, and the odd low day that sneaks up for no obvious reason.
If you never stop long enough to feel the trip, you can cross half the world and still miss what it did to you.
The moment he would bottle
If Marc could bottle one moment, it would be standing on a Himalayan ridge with Everest in front of him.
“It wasn’t just the view,” he says. “It was the work it took to get there. Every pedal stroke, every cold night, every time I thought about turning back, it all led to that view.”
That is why some views stay longer than others. They are not just beautiful. They have a cost attached. The cold nights. The doubt. The tired legs. The small decisions to keep moving when turning back felt reasonable.
Everest was the image. The real story was everything it took to stand there and see it.
Why Marc’s story hits
Marc’s story resonates because it does not sell the clean version of adventure. It has the big pieces, yes: leaving New Zealand, crossing countries, Himalayan views, cycling with a toddler. But the smaller details carry the weight.
The heavy book. The cancelled flights. The visa admin. The tired child. The village that unexpectedly became home. The moment you realise saying yes does not make life easier. It just makes it wider.
A lot of adventure content sells escape. Marc’s story feels different. It is not about disappearing from responsibility. It is about bringing responsibility with you and letting it deepen the journey.
Fatherhood did not make the road smaller. It made the meaning bigger.
Before you head out
Marc’s story is a reminder that true adventure does not always look like the version people post. Sometimes it is a border crossing with a tired child, a village that becomes home for a while, a plan that falls apart overnight, or a heavy thing in your bag you finally admit you do not need.
You do not have to move across the world to begin. Say yes to the walk you keep putting off. Take your kid somewhere new. Leave earlier than feels convenient. Pack lighter than your fear wants. Let the plan have enough room to change without the whole day feeling ruined.
What you wear and carry should make movement easier, not louder. Real travel has cold starts, long drives, airport floors, roadside stops, sudden weather, tired mornings, and days where comfort matters more than looking perfectly prepared.
That is where Trail Ready Gear fits naturally: simple outdoor pieces for travel, family days, rough weather, short walks, and the ordinary stretches between the big moments.
Final take
Marc Hall’s story is not about chasing adventure before real life begins. It is about letting adventure change as life changes.
At 19, that meant leaving New Zealand alone. Later, it meant cycling through 24 countries with his toddler. Somewhere along the way, true adventure became less about distance and more about openness: saying yes, adapting fast, letting home move, carrying less, and giving his child a wider world to grow inside.
That is the kind of adventure that lasts. Not because every day is epic, but because even the messy days become part of the story.
FAQ
Who is Marc Hall?
Marc Hall is a New Zealand-born traveller, writer, and adventure dad known for long-term travel, cycling through 24 countries with his toddler, and sharing stories through his blog Life Went That Way.
What does true adventure mean in Marc Hall’s story?
True adventure in Marc Hall’s story means staying open to the unknown, adapting when plans change, and letting travel reshape how you see home, family, and yourself. It is not only about distance or difficulty.
Did Marc Hall cycle through 24 countries with his child?
Yes. Marc’s story includes cycling through 24 countries with his one-year-old son, a journey that changed how he understood adventure, fatherhood, patience, and long-term travel.
What can parents learn from Marc Hall’s adventure?
Parents can take from Marc’s story that adventure does not have to end when family life begins. It may become slower, messier, and less polished, but it can also become more meaningful.
What is Life Went That Way?
Life Went That Way is Marc Hall’s travel blog, where he shares stories, reflections, and lessons from life on the road.