for people who want the actual story, instead of just propaganda, here is this man's actual blog. It's haunting.
http://www.simplycycling.org/blog/2017/1/10/10-pre-trip-worries
[ 10 ] Something goes terribly wrong.
Perhaps the greatest fear is the most immediate and the most physical. This isn't the first adventure I've taken that those I know would deem risky. But those past adventures were always shorter: three months here, two months there, sometimes on foot and sometimes on scooter and sometimes by car or bus or train, but always pretty close to civilization and needed supplies and a return home.
This will not be one of those adventures. Biking around the world is far safer than you might think (as it turns out, the world is a beautifully friendly place on average), but there's still plenty of inherent risk (deviation from that average). Over the tens of thousands of kilometers we're likely to travel, it only takes one mistake—a hungry animal, a wild dog, a distracted driver, an angry individual, a slippery patch of ice—for this grand adventure to become a great disaster, one with painfully intimate consequences.
I'm comfortable assuming that risk for myself, but this time I'm not traveling by myself. When you love someone, you want to keep them safe, yet when that person exists in a great big unpredictable world, it's impossible to keep them totally safe. I worry about something happening and not being able to stop it from happening, or not being able to do anything once it does happen, and that's not just a worry; it's a terrifying fear that outweighs all the preceding doubts and dread put together.
Things are sometimes scary, but things are usually okay.
These are not reasons to avoid an adventure. Risk is the singular inherent quality in adventure, and so without risk—without fear of that risk—there is no adventure. I write about these fears not to talk myself out of this trip, nor to talk anyone else out of having an adventure (seriously, go do it), but to catalog what I'm feeling and what I'm fearing so that, six months or a year or two years from now, from a place in the world I can't even begin to predict, I can look back on this list and smile at how everything around me is wonderful and beautiful and totally okay, and how embarking on this adventure—despite the risk—was probably the best decision we've ever made.
'Til then.