I Traveled to Every Country in the World Without Ever Getting on a Plane

For Travel + Leisure’s column Traveling As, we’re talking to travelers about what it’s like to explore the world through their unique perspectives. We chatted with Thor Pedersen of Denmark, who spent nearly a decade on a single journey to 203 countries around the world, never once getting on a plane. During the project, he detailed his experience on his blog, Once Upon a Saga, and visited Red Cross offices in 192 nations as a Danish Red Cross Goodwill Ambassador. His book “The Impossible Journey” came out this spring, with a documentary by the same name on its way. Here’s his story…

My mother was great at instilling in me adventure and imagination as a child. I would picture I was a part of Robin Hood’s gang, Ivanhoe, or Indiana Jones. When I got older, I became fascinated with proper adventures of those who had gone inside the deepest, darkest jungles and followed the longest rivers, circumnavigated the planet, found their way to the North and South Poles, and made it to the moon. 

Eventually, I realized I was born too late. I couldn’t be the first to reach the top of Mount Everest, for example, because that was done in 1953. The great firsts were gone. I felt a bit sad, like there was nothing left for the rest of us.

Then, in 2013, my dad sent me an email about extreme travelers, people who’d gone to every country in the world. I had no idea this was possible. I thought it would take a lifetime, and you’d have to be a millionaire. Back then, about 200 people had already done this, and some were in their 20s, so that was quite inspiring. 

But, I realized, no one had traveled to every country without flying. I was 34 and figured I was likely on a path like everyone else my age: Start a family and continue my career. But I just couldn’t leave the thought, so I started planning.

I bought a map and blue and red pens, and sat down with my sister to plot out the route. I wanted to start in my home of Denmark, and then cover about two-thirds of the European countries, before going over the North Atlantic, North America, Central America, South America, and then up through the Caribbean. Then, I’d come over the Atlantic and go from West Africa to North Africa, finish the rest of Europe, and then go to the Middle East. That would connect to Asia, and then down through and around Australia and the Pacific. Eventually, I had a fully formed project and funding.

At the time I was planning the journey, I was in a new relationship with a wonderful woman I met in 2012, and we started dating in 2013. She wanted to do the Berlin Marathon that year, so we completed that together in September, and I set my departure date on Oct. 10 at 10:10 a.m. since the four 10s had a nice ring to it.

I set three cardinal rules. First, I had to be in each country a minimum of 24 hours, but I could stay as long as I wanted. Second, I couldn’t return home until I reached the final country. It had to be one journey. And lastly, no flying for any reason whatsoever. So if I was evacuated in an airplane, I’d have to reset to start all over. 

There were also three side rules. I couldn’t pay any bribes the whole way. I also had a budget of an average of $20 a day. So if I had to pay $50 or $100 for a visa, I didn’t spend any money other times. The third rule was I couldn’t eat McDonald’s the whole way.

I traveled by public transportation wherever available. The bulk of that was buses—351 in total. I took 158 trains, especially in Europe, where there’s lots of connectivity. There were also taxis, shared motorcycles, mini buses, and metros. Where it was possible, I took sailboats. Ferries were also an easy way to travel. Toward the end of my project, I took lots of container ships as I was going through the Pacific. 

The whole experience was wild. But the funny thing is, it didn’t have that kind of gravity in 2013. I thought, if I follow the rules, then there’s a clear definition of what it means to visit every country without flying. But not being able to fly meant the countries all had to connect. Not getting a single visa could be an issue. If there was one country blocking me, I couldn’t move forward. 

There were many highlights. Venezuela is such a gorgeous country—I couldn’t believe my eyes. There’s something about the mountains, vegetation, and the size of the valleys, plus the coast and islands. I also went to Machu Picchu in the afternoon and had it to myself, since all the tours come in the morning. That was cool—standing in the mountains, seeing the clouds in between peaks, and looking at the ancient town. 

There was also the time I was on a container ship between Iceland and Canada during a four-day storm. The ship shook greatly for several days. It was winter and we got a report saying there was ice in the water—and we weren’t far from where the Titanic sank. It was not a good situation. 

But at the end, a mirror-like condition hit the surface of the water, and it was just beautiful. Any time the surface broke, it was a whale or a dolphin. At night, we saw the northern lights. Four hours before we could see Canada, we could smell its forest since the wind blew pollen out east. It was incredible.

When I was in the Pacific, where the water was a light turquoise blue, there was a moment the ship headed toward a huge rainbow. I was on top of the bridge and asked the officer, “Is this normal?” He said he hadn’t seen it before. 

But at its heart, my journey was about the people. My motto was, “A stranger is a friend you’ve never met before.” Thousands of people had their hands in this project. People who would pat me on the back when I had a bad day, or give me a meal, a place to sleep, or just point me in the right direction. People would help with translations and connections. I was never alone—people around the world were helpful, funny, and generous.

I knew it was going to be fun. I was going to meet people and eat great food. All that happened, but a couple of years into the project, it became challenging. I had to be in a country, whether or not I wanted it. In most countries, it wasn’t a problem. But if I went to a place with armed conflict or was unable to get a visa, then the 24 hours becomes an issue. Not returning home was a tough rule.

For instance, Equatorial Guinea is a beautiful little country with amazing flora and fauna. But it’s also in a hard part of the world, with dictatorships and corruption. It’s changed a lot since I was there in 2016. Back then, they were strict about who they wanted inside their country. It took me three months to get the visa. I went from one diplomatic mission to the next to the next, often going back to countries I had already been to and having to get visas so I could re-enter those countries just to go and get denied a visa.

When I finally got the visa, the borders were shut. It was rumored there had been a coup attempt and that it had failed. I only had 30 days to enter before my visa expired, so I was desperate. I tried so many things. Three days before its expiration, I met a French expat working in Equatorial Guinea, who was able to take me inside the country. 

The project was estimated to take less than four years, but it ended up taking nine years, nine months, and 16 days. This meant I was in a long-distance relationship for almost a decade. My now-wife came 27 times, which corresponds with 27 different countries. (She used a plane every time.)

We had our ups and downs in the first few years. She was studying to become a doctor, got her PhD, and then she started a career. When she and I were both preoccupied, and we had a great distance between each other, it was hard making a long-distance relationship work. It almost fell apart at one point, but we managed to focus on ourselves and build it up again.

Then, things got really good, and I started to think, this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I found a ring in Tanzania, with a Tanzanite stone, which is unique to the country. Depending on how you twist it, it changes its color in the light. I decided I was going to ask her to marry me on top of Mount Kenya. We started hiking with our guide, and it took two to three days to reach the peak. 

In my head, it was going to be like The Lion King with a beautiful sunrise and animals bowing. In reality, it got cold as we approached the top. The flowers and rocks were frozen, and there was ice and snow. At the top, there was no view—it was a complete whiteout.

But I got on one knee and asked her the question, and she said yes. She almost danced all the way down the mountain. At the bottom, we had some popcorn and tea. There were even monkeys on the rooftop.

I was down to the last nine countries when the global pandemic hit. I was supposed to spend four days in Hong Kong to make transit between two ships. In the beginning, the country was tightly closed. I ended up being separated from my fiancé for a year and a half. There was no way I could get her inside Hong Kong unless we were married.

Then, I learned there was an agency in Utah where you can get married online. She was in Copenhagen at 10 p.m., I was in Hong Kong past midnight, and we had family and friends logging on from all over. Due to the time difference, we were not technically married on the same day.

We got the paperwork, and that was good enough for Hong Kong to allow her to get a visa. She did three weeks in hotel quarantine, and then we were together. But after that, we couldn’t get the paperwork past Denmark. 

So after I left Hong Kong, we met again in Vanuatu, a beautiful island nation in the Pacific. We just happened to meet a German who had been living there for a long time. He had a resort and arranged many weddings. So we decided to get married there.

In a short span of time, we got married on the beach, had cake, and took photos. But Denmark said no for a second time, stating it wasn’t a real wedding. So we finally got married in city hall in Copenhagen after I got home. It’s a funny thing, we’ve been married three times now.

Even though the journey came with smiles and laughs, I wanted out two years into the project. And I pushed for almost eight more years to complete it. The two years of the pandemic, not knowing how long it was going to be, was mentally very stressful.

In the moment, I would look back, thinking about all the people I’d met, places I’d been, and things I’d learned. It was also good to look forward, like someday I’ll be in Japan. But sometimes it was nightmarish.

I didn’t realize there would be so much paperwork involved. In some countries, securing a bus or train ticket required a marathon of paperwork. In other places, it took a couple of minutes on the phone. The longest I spent on a ship was about 10 months. 

When I was on my way to my final country, the Maldives, someone sent a message saying, “This is the last time in your life you can visit a new country.” But I love going back to countries. There’s always stuff I haven’t seen. It’s fun to go back and see how things change. 

Now I’m working on Project 773, which has divided the world into more pieces, and I’m working on trying to visit 773 of them so I can be Denmark’s most traveled man.

I hope that from learning about my journey, people will be inspired to follow their goals. We have to fight hard for the things we hold dear and fight harder for the things we believe in. Whether you want to finish an education, learn a language, excel in playing an instrument, or a million other things, remember to fight for it. If you’re unable to obtain it on your own, then expand your circle.

Now, my wife and I have a daughter. We just did a 40-day RV trip across the country, traveling through 18 states and more than 6,500 miles. Hopefully, she will also learn to pursue her goals with some determination—and I hope she will travel. Actually, I hope everyone will travel and cross more borders to meet more people.