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In a world obsessed with safety, planning, and curated experiences, there exists a rare breed of adventurer who thrives on chaos, absurdity, and the thrill of not knowing what comes next. Tom Morgan, CEO of The Adventurists, dives into the philosophy behind some of the world’s most ill-advised expeditions — from rickshaw races to paramotor mishaps — where failure is a feature, not a flaw, and the only real compass is curiosity. With reckless optimism and a disdain for logistics, our guest reveals why the best adventures begin with a half-baked idea and a complete disregard for common sense.
You describe your adventures as existing at the “cutting edge of stupidity”. Is there a kind of genius hidden in the art of being gloriously daft?
If there’s genius, it’s unintentional. I do think there’s a deep seated need in all humans to be lost and stuck. When you throw the safety rails in the bin, you’re forced to pay attention, improvise, and collaborate with the world in real time. I think it looks daft because what we’re suggesting runs counter to a lot of the prevailing wisdom of the modern world.
Can an adventure truly earn its stripes if it doesn’t flirt with the absurd or teeter on the edge of reason?
Adventure has to carry a large slab of chaos. To me the definition of an adventure is the act of stepping into the unknown. So for example if you choose to climb Everest but you’ve taken all the right gear and made a detailed plan - then yes you are doing something hard, but it’s more like a sport than an adventure. If you make no preparation at all, don’t even know where the mountain is and set off in the wrong direction you will no doubt fail to reach the top of a bit of rock but you will have an adventure.
Real adventure asks you to give up knowing the outcome, and that surrender is the point. Without absurdity you get logistics. Adventure needs genuine uncertainty; otherwise it’s a staged photo with a refund policy. That turns “experience” into a performance for strangers' likes - instead of scars.
You describe your adventures as existing at the “cutting edge of stupidity”. Is there a kind of genius hidden in the art of being gloriously daft?
If there’s genius, it’s unintentional. I do think there’s a deep seated need in all humans to be lost and stuck. When you throw the safety rails in the bin, you’re forced to pay attention, improvise, and collaborate with the world in real time. I think it looks daft because what we’re suggesting runs counter to a lot of the prevailing wisdom of the modern world.
Can an adventure truly earn its stripes if it doesn’t flirt with the absurd or teeter on the edge of reason?
Adventure has to carry a large slab of chaos. To me the definition of an adventure is the act of stepping into the unknown. So for example if you choose to climb Everest but you’ve taken all the right gear and made a detailed plan - then yes you are doing something hard, but it’s more like a sport than an adventure. If you make no preparation at all, don’t even know where the mountain is and set off in the wrong direction you will no doubt fail to reach the top of a bit of rock but you will have an adventure.
Real adventure asks you to give up knowing the outcome, and that surrender is the point. Without absurdity you get logistics. Adventure needs genuine uncertainty; otherwise it’s a staged photo with a refund policy. That turns “experience” into a performance for strangers' likes - instead of scars.
From monkey bikes to paramotors and rickshaws - which underdog of transportation has surprised you the most in its ability to deliver chaos and glory?
They are all pretty special, but the magic comes when the machine has just enough chance of success to tempt you, and just enough unreliability to ruin your day. Its the failure rate that we look for as a feature. Nobody remembers the hours that went fine; they remember the village where they rebuilt a carburettor with borrowed pliers and questionable optimism. That’s the alchemy we chase.
Behind the curtain of madness, there must be a method. What’s the minimum dose of sanity or structure needed to keep the whole circus from imploding?
As little as we can get away with. Preparation and adventure are inversely proportional: the more you plan, the more you convert discovery into delivery. We’re not a travel company, I see us more like theatre directors - we build a wonky stage and then let the play unfold in people’s faces as the universe dictates. It’s vital for us that we don’t make decisions for people or try to keep them safe. That would be us stealing their adventure from them. That would be a holiday and there are plenty of other places you can find that.
Your adventures often begin with a half-baked idea and a reckless grin. What’s the next beautifully ill-advised expedition brewing in your mind?
We’re still planning on launching the race under party balloons. It’s almost the perfect recipe for adventure. You have no idea where you will end up or how long it will take or how many parts of you will come off in the process. The premise is simple, you tie a frankly stupid number of party balloons to yourself, and float off into the sky. The person who wafts the farthest in any direction will be the winner. It’s going to be a complete disaster. And magnificent.
Is there a past adventure that still haunts you with its brilliance - one you’d relive in a heartbeat, even if it nearly broke you?
It’s probably the Mongol Derby, it was unbelievably difficult to get it up and running, it’s quite a ridiculous story that I’m sure aged me a decade. There were points where I thought it would eat me alive. But out of that chaos came something extraordinary, it turned into a huge race that people come to from all over the world to tackle and we accidentally created a whole new sport.
And what about the one that got away - the adventure that’s still sitting in your mental junk drawer, waiting for its moment?
It’s not got away yet but I’m planning on creating some flat pack bi-planes and launching a race in them, ideally across Papua New Guinea. I just haven't finished designing the planes or really thinking through how terrible an idea this is yet.
Is there a past adventure that still haunts you with its brilliance - one you’d relive in a heartbeat, even if it nearly broke you?
It’s probably the Mongol Derby, it was unbelievably difficult to get it up and running, it’s quite a ridiculous story that I’m sure aged me a decade. There were points where I thought it would eat me alive. But out of that chaos came something extraordinary, it turned into a huge race that people come to from all over the world to tackle and we accidentally created a whole new sport.
And what about the one that got away - the adventure that’s still sitting in your mental junk drawer, waiting for its moment?
It’s not got away yet but I’m planning on creating some flat pack bi-planes and launching a race in them, ideally across Papua New Guinea. I just haven't finished designing the planes or really thinking through how terrible an idea this is yet.
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