It’s been a long time since my last post, and since then I’ve bounced across a few continents. After getting sick with a mosquito virus and serious B12 deficiency in August and September of 2017, I tried to return to my bike in Indonesia after a two-month break. It was too soon; I quickly realized two months wasn’t nearly long enough of a rest. I needed a real break, one without an impending deadline.
Shipping my bike from Bali back to Sydney wasn’t an easy decision. Continue reading Travel Psychology and Life on the Road: When Things Get Tough
The road ahead spanned more miles than I was ready to count. Very few looked an ADV ride like this in the eye without at least a little bit of anxiety tucked away somewhere, and though I’d already covered half the world on motorcycles, I was no exception. Riding up the west coast of Australia to Darwin, and then across SE Asia (and maybe beyond?) was a daunting enough adventure. But as the wheels of the Boeing 737 plane touched down in Perth—a plane likely made near my home in Seattle—I still didn’t even know what motorcycle I’d be riding. I had over $3,000 bucks burning a hole in my pocket from the sale of my KLR650, a bike I’d just ridden across North America. It wouldn’t take me too far with the higher prices in Australia, but savings and a small income I received from my Seattle rental house would cover the additional costs. Continue reading A Frugal Worldwide Ride: Australia
Confusion consumed my mind, and I couldn’t shake off the feeling of dis-ease as we sat on our sleds on the icefield. We’d been trudging through the snow for 27 days, making our slow progress across North America’s biggest glaciers—and the biggest non-polar ice cap in the world. What had begun as a harrowing ascent up razor-sharp ice-fins 130 miles before on the Kaskawulsh glacier, had become my weird, beautiful and surreal home in the Yukon for the last month. Life on the icefield had been nothing short of spectacular. Though exhausting and hard, it was a world that fueled body and soul. Was I really ready to leave? I knew Jon wasn’t. Continue reading ALCAN TO OCEAN ICECAP EXPEDITION: Homeward bound
Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three. Gasping, I counted our ski-steps up the massive wall of snow, pausing to rest at the sixty-third, one ski facing up the mountain and the other planted firmly behind, keeping the weight of our sleds from dragging us down the mountainside. The harness creaked with the 150 lb. sled held on by two straps at my hips. A colossal bank of snow looming overhead grew larger as we toiled upward, its fake summits causing a sigh every few hundred feet. Shadowy indentations and undulations marked crevasses threatening to swallow us up—or gulp us down—at the base of the pass. Continue reading Alcan to Ocean Icecap Expedition: The 100th mile
If the Greeks ever sculpted statues of athletic women, Lynne would have been their muse. She meticulously applied sunblock to her alabaster skin, standing sleek and strong in the snow. She looked built for this, her finely chiseled but feminine arms enviable and each movement made with grace and purpose.
I peed my pants that morning. If it hadn’t been so funny, it would have been pretty embarrassing. Continue reading Alcan to Ocean Expedition: Onward ho, cheesemongers!