At night, the wind howls. During the day, the sea roars. Tread lightly, because at this place the earth feels different — drier, humble, and more robust. Every moss is a survivor. Every animal fights to stay alive. Life is harsh. Life is peaceful. Life is for the courageous few who decide to leave the…
The reality is that my blog went silent for a bit. Why? Because, truthfully, my keyboard broke, and I was struggling with what to tell you about Argentina and it’s current travel costs in 2025. But here it goes. Having crossed into Argentina at the Paso Roballos border, our hopes were high and our dreams…
Cueva de las Manos summarised for you: A story steeped in history with a highly adventurous touch to get there, more so if you put your confidence into maps.me. Camped in Patagonia National Park, we decided this was the perfect base to visit Cueva de las Manos. Just 156 kilometer of Argentinian gravel, fuel calculations,…
Where were we? Ah yes, I promised to tell you more about this brave new world, didn’t I? Or at least about the dreamy, washboardy, and unexpectedly pricey details. Argentina, here we go! Barely a few kilometers from the last border checkpoint, we parked our motorbikes to soak in the view. To our left, a…
Leaving a little part of myself forever lingering along the Carretera Austral, my wheels started turning towards Paso Roballos and into the unknown; our first border crossing of the trip. A tiny, hidden place nestled below the last Chilean mountains, marking the transition into the vast Argentinian plains. Riding out of Cochrane, it took us…
There’s a rhythm on the Carretera Austral. Not a song, but the pulse of rugged beauty and isolation that sinks deep with every turn. We’re miles from Valparaíso where our journey started, and the road feels like it’s calling us closer to the edge. Patagonia stretches endlessly, an expanse that’s as much about braving the…
From far away she lures me in, urging me to follow her curves down south. Leaving Puerto Montt behind, her lush green curls cover the mountain tops. While riding across the coastline, mist dances above the waves as if to warn me about the mysteries of the South. After taking the ferry from La Arena,…
Close your eyes, listen to waves hitting the hull of the ferry, and feel the wind roaring above. Forget the rain for a moment. Try to fathom where in the world you’ve ended up: a tiny dot next to Chile, yet only three times smaller than Belgium. A final stop before the long road to…
Since arriving in Chile early September, my mind has been filled with ideas for this blog, though my hands have been too cold to write them down. Even now, sitting in a small cabin (cabaña) on Chiloé Island, heated by a wood-burning stove, warm is not what I’ve known it to be. But let’s start…