Dervla Murphy

Tired of being confused for a man and for the husband of her eighteen-year-old daughter she was traveling with on horseback throughout Cameroon, a fifty-five-year-old Dervla Murphy began taking a frank and unusual tack — she unbuttoned her shirt the moment she sensed a gendered misunderstanding. It was a moment of such fearlessness, confidence, and total disdain for bullshit that it tells you a lot of what you need to know about Murphy, one of the most celebrated, beloved, and voluminous travel writers of the twentieth century.

Over her career, Murphy wrote twenty-six books about her travels. It is remarkable, because she didn’t begin traveling in earnest until her early thirties. Mostly by bicycle, at least at first, and that’s how she gained her following. She rode a three-speed Armstrong Cadet men’s bike she called “Roz” — short for Rozinante, Don Quixote’s horse — packed efficiently with a light sleeping bag, some clothes, and a notebook. Her first big trip was a casual several thousand miles