After Briton's 28-year, 31,000-mile odyssey, his overwhelmed mother greets him and says: 'Karl just wanted to prove he was worth something. That he'd never be a failure again'

On October 1, 1998, back when Tony Blair was settling into Downing Street and a pint in the local pub cost £1.60, Karl Bushby, a former paratrooper, set off from his mother Angela's terraced house in Hull to walk around the world.

BBC Look North were here to record it for posterity. Angela was weeping. So was Karl's nan. And a small group of friends and neighbours had gathered to see him off. 

But Karl, then 29, who had spent three years planning the logistics and route, was utterly focused.

So, after explaining to the TV reporter that 'what makes sense to me might not make sense to other people', and giving a hug to his mum and nan and a cheery wave to the rest of them, he strode off at a brisk 5km per hour, pushing a specially adapted trolley nicknamed The Beast and laden with everything he'd need – tent, maps, coffee, puncture repair kit, plasters.

First to Heathrow Airport and from there, by plane to the southernmost tip of Chile. And then, he started walking back home. 

The long way – through around 30 countries, war zones, chopping his way across jungles, across ice floes, battling with polar bears, extreme heat, robbers, kidnappers and, twice along the way, suffering a broken heart.

Meanwhile, back in Hull, poor Angela, now 78, was in pieces. 'I cried and cried,' she tells me as we sat in her front room yesterday, waiting for him finally to come home. 

'Because I knew he would never, ever, give up on something he'd set his mind to. He needed to prove himself – to show everyone that he wasn't useless.'

British adventurer Karl Bushby is greeted by his mother Angela Bushby outside her house after completing his 28-year walk

Mr Bushby shares a warm embrace with his mother. Angela Bushby said she had 'cried and cried' waiting for him to come home

Karl strode off at a brisk 5km per hour, pushing a specially adapted trolley nicknamed The Beast and laden with everything he'd need. He is pictured here on the final stretch of his walk

Karl thought his odyssey would take 12 years, give or take a year or so. In the event, it took nearly three decades because, on top of endless delays caused by visas, wars, dictators and funding issues – some of his various sponsorship deals fell through – conspiring to spoil best laid plans, he had imposed on himself two, unbendable rules: that he would use no form of transport. 

And that he would not return to Hull until he had completed his mission.

Which meant that he didn't come back when his nan died. Or when his granddaughter was born 12 years ago. He hadn't even met her until this week. And, despite missing him so much it hurt, Angela actively encouraged him in this.

'I knew it was what he wanted. I told him, "If I die, you don't come home – nothing will bring me back, so keep on walking." 

'So he did. And for years, she followed his epic journey, first with a marker pen on the maps he had left plastered to his bedroom wall and later, as technology allowed, online.

Until yesterday. When, just before noon, Karl and his trusty trolley walked into a hero's welcome in Hull city centre – welcomed by the mayor and the local MP and bagpipes and drums and standard bearers and a heartfelt message from the Prime Minister, and an enormous cheering crowd.

But not Angela, who stayed firmly on her sofa. Just as she did a month ago, when he arrived in Dover after a three-day swim across the Channel.

'I always said I would wait here for him to come back – that I'd be here, by the front gate when he finally came home, and so that's where I'll be,' she says.

Karl Bushby is seen arriving in Dover, Kent, after completing his English Channel swim. He has now been welcomed back home

Karl is seen here walking on the coast north of Nome, Alaska, in 2006, amid the icy temperatures

So as the most famous man in Hull marches closer and closer, to the sound of honking horns, endless cheering and jostling camera crews, we sit in Angela's very tidy lounge – 'I was up til 3am mopping and vacuuming to be ready' – and have a lovely chat.

About what it's like being the mother of an adventurer. To lie awake while he's swimming in freezing waters and camping on melting ice and dicing with polar bears in the 53-mile-wide Bering Strait. Or incarcerated in a prison in Russia. 

Or suffering from nose bleeds in 50C (122F) heat in Death Valley. Not forgetting his 31-day record-breaking swim across the Caspian Sea.

'I am very, very proud of him,' she says. 'But the only time it got a bit too much for me was when he was crossing the Darien Gap.'

This was the time, back in 2001, when Karl went into full military escape and evasion mode to cross Colombia's civil war-ravaged jungle – then the murder and kidnap centre of the world – and living on fish and coconuts for weeks.

'I had to go for a check-up in hospital because I was that worried, my blood pressure was sky high,' she says. And it probably didn't go down very much when he finally made it out and ended up in a police detention centre in Panama for a few weeks.

'But it's fine. He needed to do it. I always understood that and I've never resented the worry or uncertainty,' she says. 'I couldn't have stopped him if I'd wanted to.'

She's right. I met Karl over a couple of days in early September and we walked – at a terrifyingly fast pace – together for a day.

Karl has arrived back in Hull, Yorkshire, after his 28 year walk around the world. Photo of Karl as a child (L) with brother Adam

Karl is seen here in a photo while serving in the army. He wore a red poppy pin as he was welcomed back in Hull

A neighbour shows a photo from the day of Karl's departure 

Karl is pictured here in 1998 in Chile. He has spent 28 years walking around the world but has now returned to Hull

He is pictured here wearing a long poncho in Argentina in 1999

Karl is seen here in 2001 next to a sign which reads 'welcome to El Salvador'

Karl also travelled through the USA. He is pictured here in Nevada in 2003

He was warm, gentle, dryly funny as he told me about the time he accidentally sliced through the artery on his left wrist and nearly bled to death as the blood gushed while he stitched himself up. 

And all the toenails he'd lost along the way. The extraordinary kindness of strangers. The relationships that couldn't weather life on the road, however hard they tried.

And how nothing scared him quite as much as finishing his walk and losing his purpose, his focus for the past 28 years.

'The only thing worse than a man who can't fulfil his dreams is a man who has fulfilled his dreams because then what?' he said.

He also confided that he loathed swimming and didn't even much like walking either.

Because for him, it was always more about the challenge. The mission. The testing himself and pushing his body to the limits. And, as he put it, also a teeny bit of 'well that'll bloody well show them' to his childhood bullies.

Because while Karl Bushby must surely be one of the toughest, most inspiring men in the world, growing up the elder of two sons – with a military father, who Angela is now divorced from – it wasn't always like this.

'His father was in the SAS, but he was always a very quiet, gentle boy,' she says. 'It was always nature posters on his bedroom walls, not pop bands. He was always outdoors, birdwatching with a packed lunch, and usually on his own.' 

Karl is pictured here in Turkey in 2025 amid freezing conditions

Karl also visited southern Russia in 2016

He is seen here crossing the Bering Strait in 2006

Sadly, he was badly bullied. 'I was easy prey. I was punched and hit. They say it's all character-building stuff,' he told me as we walked in Belgium.

According to Angela – who is still furious today – it all started when he was about 12 and a female teacher made him stand on a chair in shame for not being able to spell a word.

'He was dyslexic! But it was fair game after that,' she says. 'I used to see from my front window – him being punched and kicked. It used to break my heart, but I couldn't do anything because he said it would make it worse. He'd be a mummy's boy.'

Instead, he did the opposite and applied to become a paratrooper – it took him a record five attempts until he was accepted, but he never gave up. 'I was definitely trying to prove myself – to show them,' he told me.

But, according to Angela, even in the Army, he was picked on and never quite felt one of the lads. For applying so many times. For not getting stuck in at the bar – he doesn't really drink.

It was when he was serving in Belfast that he met and married another Angela and they had a son, Adam (who joined him to walk yesterday, along with his father Keith and brother Adrian) but later divorced.

And when he was 26, he started hatching his grand plan. Wrestling with logistics, raising money. And, in the year before he left, living back home in his old bedroom, plotting routes, building The Beast in the garden.

'I think the neighbours thought he was a bit loopy – he'd always be pushing it up and down the road outside,' says mum Angela.

Karl is pictured here in the cold in Mongolia in 2017

Karl is seen trundling his belongings down the roadside in the United States in 2014

He is pictured here outside Tesco Express in London on the final leg of his journey on October 16

Karl departs from the village of Barton-upon-Humber as he walks towards the Humber Bridge, ahead of the finish line on the final stretch of his 28-year walk

Karl is greeted by his mother, Angela , as he arrives home on November 2

Karl and his mother share a warm embrace as he arrives home in Hull

Angela decorated the family home with Union Jack flags and a welcome banner in anticipation of Karl's arrival

Some people claim he's selfish to have put his family through it. But she won't hear it.

'He just wanted to prove that he was worth something. He always felt like a failure because of his dyslexia,' she says, her eyes brimming. 'That's why he won't give in. He said he'd do this or die. He'd never be a failure again.'

Not that there haven't been plenty of low moments for Angela. The Christmases. The missed birthdays – 'sometimes I get a Mother's Day card on my birthday, but he's had a lot on!' she says.

The worst time, she says, is New Year. 'It's the beginning of another year I won't see him.'

Though not always. Over the decades, Angela has flown out to him several times – to Alaska, shortly before he set off with fellow explorer Dimitri Kieffer to navigate the Bering Strait. 

And in 2015, to Germany, where he was laid up between walking stints. Which was the last time she saw him.

So it must be very strange for her to know that now, as we chat, he is barely ten miles away. Walking ever closer to the big piece of lamb – 'his favourite' – she's got in the fridge. 

The pile of Christmas presents she has stacked up over the years. And also that, over the past 24 hours, he has been on the news, on the radio, all over social media.

'Every time I turn on YouTube he seems to be on!' she says.

So we've heard about the documentary that legendary filmmaker Werner Herzog is making of Karl's epic journey – somehow crunching down more than 1,200 hours of film. 

The talks he will be giving in theatres around the country. The STEM charity he's involved with to help inspire and educate youngsters. And, of course, his deep fear of the future.

But his mother thinks he will be just fine. Because he has changed. He has vanquished his demons. Showed the bullies how life can be really lived and put Hull on the map.

'What more could he do – walk to the Moon?' she says. 'I'm so proud of him. He's a hero for everyone else. But he's my boy. Don't set me off. I don't think I'll get a word out when I see him, I'll be crying that much.'

And when, finally, that moment comes, she's right.

It is just after 1.30pm. Television helicopters are swirling overhead, schoolchildren are cheering, flags waving, balloons and bunting bobbing, neighbours clapping and film crews jostling as Karl pushes The Beast up his old street – and there, in the middle of the road, is Angela. 

And suddenly they are hugging – in almost exactly the same spot where they hugged goodbye in 1998 – and Angela, tiny against Karl's wide chest, sobs and sobs.

And so do most of us in the huge crowd. Because after 28 years and 31,000 miles, her lovely, gentle and very determined son Karl is finally home. And ready to start the next chapter of his life.