On riding through the continent and things that happen.

Came back after having left you guys somewhere in Chile. Something has changed. Maybe you’re loosing your narrative edge, maybe the pictures are starting to resemble hundreds of others taken before, maybe this travel log has grown too long and you need to stop posting. Maybe you’ve lost your wanderlust and are just going through the motions because the agenda has been set, I don’t know and never will; the images no longer surprise or inspire and the words come through but are stiff, burdened by the condescending tone so often found in upper middle class Americans. Maybe it’s time to just go back and start working on building a home of your own, bike traveling having fulfilled its purpose, or maybe, it’s time to put away the camera, trust your eyes and memory without the need to photograph, live the road without the need to document, just you two discovering yourselves, just you two and what the road may bring. Remember, the road can nurture or destroy that which we carry within us as we ride through those long unending hours into strange lands that will be forgotten. Hardship is out there to challenge you, but also hope and redemption from within, and sometimes, on lost and lonely roads, you’ll still find the old and jaded motorbike travelers who never returned, it’s always good to meet them. Thank you for letting me tag along, I’m off now. God bless and goodbye.

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Transandean Moto Sanity Tour

So.

After Ilse I did what any sane man would do.

I hit the road and went on a transandean mototrip, into the valleys and all the way up to the lower jungle, where I got hit by a Hummer and ended up staying in a little town called Saipina while a man called Gunnar got the bike back running… made it back, the bike behaved grandly.