Alaska and Canada – the Last Leg

I jerked forward and was thrown into Paul’s back. Bang, bang, bang. Paul urgently hammered down the gears, the bike’s momentum screaming against the force of the engine braking. Even by trying to pull myself back using the grab bars, I couldn’t move out of his back to get sight at what was happening ahead.… Continue reading Alaska and Canada – the Last Leg

Mongolia – Part 2

The tiny door to the Ger burst open and a young Mongolian nomad bundled in, his head bowed to fit through the low door. His long blue silk embroidered sheepskin coat swirled behind him as he threw in a pile of firewood into a metal bucket next to the stovetop oven in the centre of… Continue reading Mongolia – Part 2

The Intermission

The dust rose up from the dirt road as we stood outside our budget hotel with our backpacks resting on the ground. We were already sweating in the hot early morning sun as we waited for a bus to the airport. I noticed a young girl, maybe six years old, pulling a wooden cart towards… Continue reading The Intermission

Mongolia – Part 1

"Wake up!" I whispered, shaking Paul's shoulder. "There's something outside". We had arrived near the Mongolian border in the Altai region of Russia and had ridden well off-road to find a distant spot in the steppe to pitch our tent. We set up camp as the sun set and fell into our sleeping bags. "Wake… Continue reading Mongolia – Part 1

Russia

A quiet "whirr, click, whirr" came from the bike as it missed a gear. Again, another "whirr, click, whirr". It wouldn't have mattered but at that precise moment we were overtaking a truck and facing an oncoming lorry. The bike missed another attempt to engage fourth gear. We started to coast, no power, no gear… Continue reading Russia

The Scandinavian Leg

"Psst, do you have one of those lady things?" Paul said ushering me over. Registering the confused expression on my face, his voice dropped to a whisper "you know, a sanitary towel". Standing in a petrol garage forecourt in Sweden, somewhere north of Stockholm, this was not something I'd expect any man to ask me. Bewildered,… Continue reading The Scandinavian Leg