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
Real adventure is defined best as a journey from which you may not come back alive and certainly not as the same person. – Yvon Chouinard, Let my people go surfing A hot, humid morning as well as ups and downs along the coast accompanied the resumption of my cycling trip after a night spent camping on the beach in Boca de Iguana, Mexico. Shirtless, dripping sweat in a hill longer than the others I checked my odometer and I realised that it has passed the threshold of 10,000 kilometers
They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and