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grand adventure

Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don’t be sorry – Jack Kerouac. Disclaimer: I will use the term Americas referring to the whole continent. Americas to me is the whole of North America, Central America and South America. Where I come from in school you learn there are five continents like the Olympic Rings, one is America or Americas. It’s been almost a month since I arrived in Ushuaia, the world’s southmost city in, in Patagonia and the point of arrival of my crossing of the American continent from tip to

Foreword: I usually never write about my routes because I find VERY boring blog posts that say: I got up at X hour, pedalled for X Km, stopped for lunch here, water supply there. However, I’m gonna write about a route that might offer an alternative way out (or in) from Villa O’Higgins other than the $50 boat ride. The data on this route is scarce and there is lot of misleading information out there. Boat owners in Villa O’Higgins prefer to scare people away from Paso Mayer for obvious

Happiness is only real when shared.” Christopher McCandless Firstly, let’s start from the conclusion: for me, cycling is an activity to be undertaken on one’s own, at least for the most part of a long adventure. Number of companions: zero is the ideal, one acceptable, two or more are a crowd. I travelled solo for a long time; sometimes with a friend or companion met on the road or with couple of other biketourers or even a small group. Consequently, after nearly two years of life on the road I

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. ― Mark Twain Gotta do what it is that I do, Then I’m coming back. Got the sun in my face, Sleeping rough on the road, I’ll tell you all about it, When I get home. ― Stereophonics, Long Way Round The greatest danger in life

Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting: Holy shit…what a ride! – Hunter S. Thompson What a crazy story. A year has passed already since 13 August 2015 when in the early afternoon of a normal rainy day I left Prudhoe Bay/Deadhorse on the Arctic Ocean to enter kilometre zero of the Dalton Highway, a spot considered to mark the beginning of the Panamerican Highway. It’s easy to indulge fully in a

If you’re not facing fear every day, you’re getting weaker, not stronger. – Tony Robbins A few days ago I was on a truck surrounded by Indians of La Guajira, on a strip of desert in the northern most tip of South America – a land divided between Colombia and Venezuela. I was on the truck, instead of on my bike. I was stunned, with one hand and neck that were burning, and stinging bumps in my head. With a smile on my face, I drank a sort of native

Man is the measure of all things: of things which are, how they are, and of things which are not, how they are not – Protagoras Now I am at the latitude of Moscow – and so I am encouraged while on the Alaska Highway by the thought that by now it could no longer get that cold. I knew the climate in Moscow in September. Since the beginning of the journey from Prudhoe Bay in Alaska I realized that more than the kilometres it was important to measure my