The young woman who rode alone around the world on an old BMW motorcycle

In 1982, while most 23-year-old architecture students in London were worrying about their final portfolios, Elspeth Beard was busy packing a tent and a few tools onto a secondhand 1974 BMW R60/6. She wasn’t just going for a weekend blast through the Cotswolds; she was heading east with the intention of circling the entire globe.

At the time, the concept of "adventure motorcycling" barely existed. There were no GPS units, no satellite phones, and certainly no Kevlar-reinforced riding gear. Elspeth’s kit consisted of a Belstaff waxed cotton jacket, rugged leather boots, and a map. When she set off from the UK, she became one of the first British women to attempt a solo circumnavigation of the world on two wheels.

The first leg of her journey took her through New York and across the United States to San Francisco. It was a shake-down run that proved her BMW—nicknamed "The Flying Pig"—was up to the task, even if the rider was still learning the ropes of long-distance maintenance. From California, she shipped the bike to Sydney, Australia.

It was in the Australian Outback that the romantic notion of travel met the brutal reality of the road. While riding on a dirt track, Elspeth hit a pothole, causing a massive crash. She suffered a severe concussion and spent two weeks in a hospital in Townsville. Most people would have shipped the bike home then and there. Instead, Elspeth spent her recovery time repairing the BMW herself, eventually riding across the Nullarbor Plain to Perth, where she worked as an architectural drafter for months to save enough money for the next leg.

Her route through Southeast Asia was even more perilous. In Thailand, she collided with a dog and was taken in by a local family who nursed her back to health; she spent her convalescence eating fruit and watching the family’s grandmother smoke a pipe. When it came time to cross into India, she faced a bureaucratic nightmare. To get her bike through Punjab during a period of intense civil unrest, she had to forge her own travel permits using a children’s potato-print set to mimic official stamps.

The journey through the Himalayas and the Middle East was a test of pure endurance. She battled hepatitis in a Pakistani hospital and navigated the deserts of Iran just as the revolution was hardening the country's borders. By the time she reached Turkey, she was physically exhausted, her bike was held together by grit and wire, and she had lost a significant amount of weight.

When Elspeth rolled back into London in 1984, she had covered 35,000 miles. But there were no camera crews waiting for her, and no sponsorship deals. She simply parked the bike in her garage, went back to finish her architecture degree, and moved on with her life. For nearly 30 years, her story remained largely unknown outside of small vintage motorcycle circles.

It wasn't until the publication of her memoir, Lone Rider, that the modern motorcycling community realized the scale of her achievement. Today, Elspeth Beard is a legend in the ADV community, proving that you don't need a $25,000 bike with electronic suspension to see the world. You just need a reliable machine, a basic set of tools, and the refusal to turn back when the road disappears.