TL;DR: Long Way Home trades high-octane adventure for slow, scenic reflection. Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman’s chemistry still sparkles, and the vintage motorbike aesthetic adds charm, but the series occasionally drifts into tedium. For fans of slow TV, dad-core bonding, and emotional mileage over physical, it’s a relaxing, if overlong, ride.

McGregor and Boorman trade horsepower for heart in a mellow, mature take on their travelogue legacy.

There’s a moment in Long Way Home—somewhere between Ewan McGregor eating herring in Amsterdam and Charley Boorman hobbling off his vintage BMW—that it hits you: this isn’t about where they’re going. It’s not even about what they’re riding. It’s about two men who’ve been through the wringer—personally, physically, and globally—and are choosing to take the long, scenic way back to themselves.

Let’s be real: if you’re tuning in for adrenaline-fueled stunts and extreme terrain, you’re going to feel like you showed up to a rave and accidentally wandered into a yoga retreat. But if you’re in the mood for something quieter, something reflective, Long Way Home delivers a surprisingly resonant ride.

Back to Basics—Sort Of

After the electric detour that was Long Way Up (remember those custom Harley-Davidson LiveWires and the Apple-powered charging stations across Patagonia? Yeah, that was a vibe), Long Way Home feels like an intentional pivot. The production tells us we’re “back to basics.” No plush offices. No high-tech vehicles. Just two old friends, a paper map pinned to a garage wall, and bikes older than your dad’s vinyl collection.

Except, let’s be honest—it’s a little too polished to be totally DIY. The camera work is slick, the drone shots cinematic, and yes, the logistics clearly still have a small army behind them. But it’s a clever bit of image rehab: the show feels more relatable, even if it’s still got that Apple TV+ gloss.

The Gentle Men of the Road

What does feel authentic is the chemistry between McGregor and Boorman. It’s matured, like a whisky that’s spent a few decades in a Scottish oak cask. Gone is the youthful chaos of Long Way Round, replaced by something quieter, more intimate. Boorman’s injuries (and his gallows-humor about them) give the journey a lived-in, “getting older sucks but let’s ride anyway” energy. McGregor, meanwhile, brings his usual warmth and goofball charisma, whether he’s reminiscing about Trainspotting 2 or gleefully sampling Baltic cheeses.

These aren’t just celebs on holiday. They’re middle-aged men chasing connection—through place, through memory, and through each other. It’s like watching The Trip with less wine and more engine oil.

Plot? What Plot?

The first episode is an exercise in patience. The guys don’t even leave the UK until episode two, and we spend a surprising amount of time watching McGregor try to retrieve a lost mobile phone from under a bench (spoiler: he succeeds, eventually). But that’s the whole point. Long Way Home isn’t in a rush. It’s slow TV by design—a meditative, episodic hangout rather than a thrill ride.

That said, ten episodes feels like two or three too many. While the latter legs of the trip—especially through Norway’s epic fjords and the snowy drama of the Arctic Circle—deliver genuine visual rewards, the earlier stretches through western Europe can blur into a series of quaint towns and friendly locals with marching bands. There’s only so much passive wandering even the most devoted fan can take before it all feels a bit… samey.

Slow TV: Therapy or Tedium?

Let’s talk genre. “Slow TV” has become a thing—especially post-pandemic. From Norwegian train rides to pastoral cooking shows in rural Japan, viewers are increasingly seeking shows that breathe. In that sense, Long Way Home is perfectly timed. It’s the kind of series you don’t binge so much as live with for a few weeks, one calm episode at a time. It doesn’t demand your attention, but it rewards it if you give it. Like a long ride on an empty road, you start to settle into its rhythm.

And it is kind of hypnotic. There’s something zen about the endless drone of the road, the quiet chuckles between friends, the reverence for nature and history. Even when the route isn’t spectacular, the emotional geography carries weight.

Best Moments: When Real Life Interrupts

The true highlights aren’t the destinations—they’re the detours. A heartfelt stop in Boorman’s late mother’s hometown in Germany. A bizarre yet endearing visit to a Danish bar frequented by horses. An impromptu gun-club festival that spirals into a night of unexpected connection.

These unscripted vignettes remind us why we fell in love with the Long Way format to begin with. It’s not just about crossing borders—it’s about crossing into other people’s lives, if only for a moment.

Final Verdict

So, where does that leave us? Long Way Home is less about motorcycles and more about motion. It’s about aging, friendship, healing. It’s meditative, not mind-blowing; soothing, not sizzling. If Long Way Round was a youthful road trip movie, Long Way Home is the indie sequel: less plot, more soul.

It’s not for everyone. But if you’ve ever stared out a window during a long train ride and felt your heartbeat slow down, you’ll probably get it. And maybe that’s the real point—not the road itself, but how it changes you along the way.