Waking up to a pre-made breakfast along the Lagunas Route really is a treat! Temperatures are still well below zero, but the sun will be here any minute. And that’s a good thing! Because every morning our motorcycles are more reluctant to start their engines. The altitude and the cold are definitely getting to our…
Day two on Bolivia’s Western Lagunas Route. Having freed Jonas’s CRF from the sand, we reach the end of the altiplano and start bobbing up-and-down sandy hills till we reach what we had feared all along: sandy washboard. Annoyingly wobbly, with the occasional surprise sideway slither. Exciting? Maybe. But at this altitude, my CRF was…
After having acclimatised to the altitude a few days in Uyuni (at 3700m), we point our wheels toward the infamous lagunas route. Not the well trodden Eastern route. No, we’re going all in, taking the even more remote Western route, meandering close to the Chilean border. The first 175 kilometres or so, we just follow…
Graves. Endlessly hidden in the Atacama desert. The memory of lives lost lingering across salty flatlands. The eyes of young children piercing into my soul. This place is called ‘El Cementerio de los Apestados’ or, ‘The Plague Victims’ Cemetery’, better known as the ‘Children’s Cemetery’. Yet, when we arrived, we didn’t know all this. All…
Some say that it doesn’t exist. Others say that it can’t be done. I would say, go to Chile. A country stretching the length of Europe, yet only a mere few hundred kilometres wide at its widest. Nestling its toes in the Southern Ice Fields while its head bathes in everlasting sun, the Atacama Desert…
A tiny cabin. My unexpected home away from home in southern Chile. No bigger than most people’s kitchen, but housing more than just kitchen utensils. Bedroom to the left, kitchen and living room to the right. Bathroom? Straight ahead. Everything painted white with perfect full-bodied red details. Windows facing the front with a terrace looking…
When travelling by motorcycle everyone expects the worst to happen one day, right? Yet sometimes, it’s the tiny, stupid surprises that screw you over. We had spent an amazing few days discovering Argentina’s Wild West, filling our lungs with dust and our boots with sand when disaster struck. Not on the bike, not on the…
This is just a story. A story of how cowboys and Indians nearly ended up at high tea.This is a story, but one embedded in unimaginable landscapes and the beautiful reality of tea time. Have you ever heard of Gaiman? I suppose not. I hadn’t.It’s a tiny little town, a village maybe? In the northeast…
Impressions from an Empty Road Ruta 3 in Argentina. Vast emptiness. A dream, or a nightmare? It cuts through a desert-like vastness, a ribbon of asphalt stretching endlessly toward the horizon. The only sounds are my breath inside my helmet and the soaring wind outside. Slowly, I inhale. Eyes fixed on the distance. We are…