Newsletter

106th Edition, December 2017

"...We did stop at the highest pass today at 5234 m, but did not stay long... The road today is again in pretty bad shape and the number of trucks is insane. This is a real work out and probably some of the most intense all round days we have had. There is almost nowhere to stop. If you must stop on the verge you are taking your life in your hands."

Sara and Dan Pedersen, Canada, on the road to Lhasa, Tibet

105th Edition, December 2016

"The road becomes more and more challenging and isolated, with river crossings and bridges made of doubtful pieces of wood. I find myself in a very remote high altitude area, on a path where it is extremely difficult to keep the motorbike up. I come close to falling many times. The beauty of the place leaves me speechless, but the road deteriorates more and more, I find myself more often than not, on edges of very high cliffs. I started to fear driving on the cliff side of the road. At some point, I'm faced with a difficult passage and I got hesitant to take the easiest line, which was on the edge of the cliff, and what had to happen, well, happened..."

Marc Ouellet, Canada, in Peru

104th Edition, May 2016

"At the top of the hill, we are at the level where we just saw the clouds. From the valley a huge cloud comes floating towards us and moments later everything is gray. We are riding just underneath the cloud, it's like someone just closed the cover over our heads. We turn left onto a gravel road and say goodbye to the asphalt. The next 400 km we will ride on gravel roads and dirt tracks. To have some more grip on the soft surfaces we let some air out of the tires, and continue in the direction of the border."
Peter and Leonie, Netherlands, in Bolivia and Chile

103rd Edition, November 2015

"...one of the best rides of the whole journey was next, Paracas Peninsula, a welcome and unexpected surprise. The peninsula is a desert, and a national park and reserve. We went in through the 'back' past tiny shacks and ruins in the sand. After riding for about an hour or so, the tar disappeared, turning to hard dirt with patches of soft sand covering our path in wind spots. The road became increasingly less defined and lonelier, and just when the road had ended, disappearing completely into the earth, the sea rose to meet us in a dramatic coastline. With open air, yellow sand cliffs and deep blue water we found ourselves completely alone, and without any semblance of road to follow. We nearly wet ourselves with excitement."
Matthew and Megan Snyman, USA, in Peru

102nd Edition, December 2014

"Our goal that day was to reach the highly recommended beach area half way to Caracas called Boca de Uchire. As we were delayed by the ferry, we arrived in the dark to Posada Sonho Meu. This is against one of our cardinal rules of travel, especially on a small, dark, deserted road that seems to deteriorate with every kilometre! After going down many dead ends in the dark we finally find the right one to a warm welcome from the proprietor Nella. This enterprising lady really knows how to treat her clients with no request being too much trouble. She even supplied us with a 2 way radio while we were on the beach so we could order 'Dos mas Pina Coladas Por Favor' from the posada 100m back!"

Belinda and Patrick Peck, Australia, in Venezuela

101st Edition, April/May 2014

"One of our highlights was the crossing of a densely forested area in the north-western part of Tasmania. One of the roads there was closed, and so we tried to get through on small 4×4 and foresting tracks. Giant fern trees, deep mud, plenty of birds and insects, mosses and beard lichen made the area look like a scene from Jurassic Park - after every corner we expected to find ourselves eye to eye with a snarling dinosaur... we had to fight our way through some really long and deep mud holes, over rocks, through deep ravines, and down steep slopes. Sounds more like a nightmare? No, we loved it - but it was strenuous..."

Heike and Filippo Fania, Germany, in Tasmania

100th Edition, March 2014

"As I left I got confused about where the path I came in on was and ended up heading down the short cut. Realizing my mistake I just decided to plough a path through the mud and water which was a bit touch and go when the bike ended up in water so deep it was nearly over the exhaust! It was definitely deeper than the day before after all the extra rain. There were long stretches of water where you couldn't see any sort of dry exit so you just had to go for it and hope there was no unexpected trenches under the water..."

Technomadic Jim, in Botswana,
 

99th Edition, January 2014

"Muttering 'Wall of Death' several times, I open the throttle and ride up onto the trail, aware that as a personal mantra, a phrase invoking the word death is possibly not the most positive one to use. But it works for me, or at least, it did until this point, I slowed, I dithered and oh dear, the front wheel slid down and over the bike went into the mud. With me close behind.

I staggered to my feet, and almost fell over again, as by the front wheel the mud was well above my knees and sucking me down. I had to wait for help... between us with a great deal of effort, we got the bike up and then onto firm ground. We were both covered in mud. He headed off to the nearest river to wash, I didn't bother because with many more kilometres of this ahead of me, there was no point in getting myself clean now..."

Tiffany Coates, UK, in Madagascar

98th Edition, Jul/Aug 2013

"I try to slip narrowly between a tree leaning half-uprooted, bent forwards in the sand from an ancient flood, and an area of softer sand cut by the few tyres that have passed this way. I catch one of the tree's tough branches on my body and tumble off, stopping with a jolt. I wiggle out painfully from under the bike sunk heavily in the sand, burning my leg on the engine case and hurting my ankle as I rush to tug it free from the heavy heat. I go to heave the bike up and as I do a spurt of blood surges out from somewhere on to the sand. My hand is cut and I wipe it on my trousers ineffectively...  vital fuel is leaking out from the tank; I have to get the bike up. I plunge my bloody hand amongst the soft sand and fix it around the grip and heave the bike a second time. This time my reddened hand slips from the now wet grip and I fall backwards and tangle in the tough tree branches, which I fight angrily against. I manage better the third time and push and run the bike along the riverbed and across to the far side."

Nick Jones, UK, in Bolivia

97th Edition, June 2013

"...Three days, numerous rain showers and uncountable close calls later we finally start the climb into the cloud forest where we had organised a week or so volunteering in a bird sanctuary/lodge. What followed was a road that made the previous muddy track feel like a German autobahn. Once upon a time it was the main road from Quito, the capital of Ecuador. This would have been around the time of the Romans I think. Now it was a slippery, muddy goat track skirting precipitous drops into the wet depths of Hades. At one point I think my training as a whitewater rafting guide came in handy."

Mark and Carlie, Australia, in Ecuador, 650 V-Strom,