- I’m Riding My Motorcycle to Argentina
- Official Press Release – Traveling Off the Grid, on YouTube
- Preparing the KLR before my Latin America trip
- What to take on a year long motorcycle trip
- My First Day on the Road
- YouTube Video Map
- Blogging Lacking But Video Logging Booming!
- After 40 Days on the Road
- Mexico City’s Killing Me
- The Journey Begins
- Chicago via Denver and St. Louis
- Leaving Chicago Behind
- My First Couch Surfing Experience
- Video of Mexican Police Shaking Me Down
- Interview With Overland Expo
- Entering Into Mexico – Extortion and Inviting Hosts
- News Coverage Over Extortion Video
- Leaving Mexico and Entering Guatemala
- Twisty Roads, City Labyrinth and a Dog Bite
- Unmaintained Motorcycles, Serendipitous Lodging and My Love Affair with Andre
- Lingering Paranoia and Meeting Another Solo Traveler
- Bug Zapper Skills
- Riding Beemers, Replacing Helmet, and Cricket Tacos
- How to be Alone
- Mexican Bus Ride, Riot Police and Church Irony
- Survivor’s Guilt, a Shift in Perspective and the Overrated Mind
- Catching Up: Real De Catorce, Mexico
- Truck Blocking the Road, Guatemala
- The Schizophrenic Bolivian Vagabond [Day 178]
- Couch Surfing in San Jose, Costa Rica [Day 108]
- The Water Filled Vodka Bottle – San Jose, Costa Rica [Day 110]
- Creatures Stirring on Christmas Eve, Playa las Lajas, Panama [Day 125]
- Video Trio: Honduras Traffic, Mayan Temple Climbing, & Nalgene Hack
I got off the slab (interstate) and took 285 to Denver where I stayed with a friend. She and her house mates were getting ready for Burning Man. So I kept out of their way. They invited me, and I was really close to going if it weren’t for the 1,400 mile detour that would have been required.
Today was all business. After a good night sleep on an actual bed I hit the road and wanted to make a big dent in the 800 miles to St. Louis. I planned on riding through the night until I was too tired. As dusk began I noticed my headlight was out. So much for riding through the night. I pulled over and made camp in some brush between cornfields. Motorcycle camping gives you so much freedom. Go anywhere and erect your home. Tear it down and repeat the next day.
I attempted to climb he berm that formed the ditch on the dirt road I camped along side. I was too apprehensive, and hesitant and the bike fell over flinging me off like a rag doll. I laughed at myself and wrestled the bike upright. I gave it one more shot, riding through the half foot tall corn field I scouted for an easier spot to climb over the berm. There was none. I circled around and finally made a bee line for the ditch at speed I was wholly uncomfortable with, all the while shouting, “Commit, commit, commit!” With the throttle wide open and anxiety ridden nerves I made a proper climb and an inadvertent “Woo hoo!” fell out of my mouth. It’s the small victories that made difficulties like this worth it. I not longer really see them as difficulties, merely opportunities to see what I am capable of.
I made it to St. Louis that evening where I stayed with some good old friends for the weekend. I made it to Chicago the next day.