A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it

The Meeting Point

We (Hector & Selman) met one another in Kenya in 2020. We were both up to our eyebrows in startups and quietly wondered if this was what life had to offer. The grind was insane: endless customer support issues, pitches, sales calls, decks, and so many late nights. All the while, we felt the almost guilty sense that this "success" we chased indefatigably was actually tiring us out. 

Could adventure give us what we needed?
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it

About Hector

Books can sometimes be dangerous things.

I was working on my startup when I received a book from a friend. "You might like it," he said to me. "Might I?" – I was sceptical. Another book. I let it sit on my shelf for a while – it looked intimidating, like a loaded gun.


Eventually I picked it up and turned the page. Damn, I loved it! The book was Martijn Doolard's "One Year On A Bicycle". Doolard had cycled from Amsterdam to Singapore. Were there other ways to live?, I wondered to myself. Yes! One way is to travel on a bicycle and camp under a glowing white moon in the middle of the eastern desert in Egypt. Ah, the romance of the wilderness!

I was not burnt out at the time, but I was certain there was more to life than my current trajectory. All of my self-worth had become intrinsically linked to my Monthly Recurring Revenue. The more MRR I accumulated, the more my ego blossomed like spring hawthorn. I was working passionately, even vigorously, but something fundamental was missing. My emotional cup wasn't being filled.

Anyway, eight months after reading Doolard's book, in August 2023, I left the UK and cycled from London to Bangkok. It took sixteen months. I wound through to Istanbul, then Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Oman. After Sri Lanka, I spent six months in India, moving gently on my bicycle from Kanyakumari, the southern tip, to Leh, Ladakh, and then to Nepal, the top of the world. Finally, I reached Bangkok and rode, with my Dad, up to Chiang Mai.

I finished the journey elated and changed. I felt more open and alive. My god, there is a big world out there! We're so fortunate to have it on our doorstep; all we have to do is leave the house to find it. Adventure was transformative for me, and I believe it can help others, too.

So now it's time to take the lessons from my life so far and express them in Loaf.
When I'm not working on Loaf (or cycling), I love running and I *adore* writing.
My cycle trip taught me life is about experiencing, learning, and remaining open to the unexpected. I also learned that sometimes the strangest things begin with a single book.


-Hector
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it

Selman's Journey

I've always been a curious person. Most people who know me would describe me as someone full of energy, someone who loves asking questions and diving deep into people's stories. For most of my life, this curiosity and energy felt boundless.

I spent the last four years working in Nairobi, Kenya, at an early-stage startup. It was an experience I cherished, especially building something from the ground up. But entrepreneurship, combined with the weight of COVID, began to take its toll.

For as long as I can remember, I've worn my work ethic as a badge of honor. I was raised to believe that hard work was the only way forward. As an immigrant in the U.S., the stakes were even higher. Success wasn't optional—it was a ladder to a better future. So, I pushed through. Always.

But somewhere amid the pushing, I lost something essential: My curiosity disappeared, and my energy dissipated. No amount of rest (vacations, meditation, or sleep) would fix me. I would return from a two-week holiday and still feel exhausted by noon on a Monday.

Through journaling, breathwork, and meditation, I began uncovering uncomfortable truths. I realized I'd become addicted to achievement as a way to validate my self-worth. Staying busy was my shield against emotions I didn't want to face: sadness, anger, and the deep discomfort of feeling lost.

So, for the first time in my life, I made a decision that felt radical: I took a break. Not a short vacation, but a real pause. A sabbatical. It still feels "selfish" to write that, but deep down, I know it wasn't selfish but necessary. I told my boss, my family, my friends, and my partner: I need this. I need to take care of myself, my heart, my body, and just see what comes up.

My journey started with reconnecting. I spent a month travelling around Europe, 
visiting lifelong friends and enjoying the comfort of familiar faces. But I knew the real work would begin when I turned inward.

For two months, I hiked and meditated in the Himalayas, immersing myself in stillness and the vastness of nature. After that, I returned to my roots, spending time with my partner & family exploring my home country of Türkiye.

I won't sugarcoat it: doing nothing was one of the hardest things I've ever done (I know how ridiculous that sounds). Sitting with stillness and having no agenda felt unsettling. There were many moments when emotions welled up, urging me to turn around, distract myself, or "be productive."

But in that quiet, uncomfortable space, I began learning that uncertainty isn't a void to fear, it's a space of emergence where something new is forming. Trusting this rhythm with patience and keeping an open heart, instead of fighting against it, became my most significant takeaway.

When you let yourself truly stop, the noise of the world quiets down a bit, and something deeper begins to emerge. I started to wonder if life isn't a puzzle to be solved but an experience to be felt.

After all these experiences, it's time to create something very special with everything I've learned. So I'm building Loaf, helping others enjoy the transformative power of adventure.


-Selman
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it
A close-up of a shelf with ceramic vases on it

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We're looking for experts in adventure travel or community-building to join the mission and grow our nascent adventure community.


Explore our retreats or email us at hector@loaf.so to get involved.

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