Be Ride Back

05/06/2026

2 Wet Dogs and 1 Sad Monkey.

After six glorious weeks with Morris, Tammy, Lilly and Oscar, it was time for us to move on and get back on the road again; it is always hard for us to leave a place where we’ve stayed for a long time, but this time was especially hard, and saying goodbye was heartbreaking. We loved every moment we spent together cooking, baking, working in the garden or even just sitting outside laughing to Morris’ crazy jokes while watching Tammy through the balcony door as she’s making her famous “slow salad”, and while we have postponed our departure multiple times with different excuses, we knew that the longer we stayed, the harder it will be to leave.

Saying goodbye to Lily and Oscar, Morris and Tammy’s dogs, was as painful, and we knew that we’ll sorely miss taking them for a walk and playing fetch with them in the backyard, despite Lilly completely missing the concept of fetching the ball, and I knew that I’ll forever miss having Oscar on my lap, happily chewing his bone with his crocodile jaws as I pet his fluffy fur.

We hugged for as long as we could, and after Morris and Tammy left for work, we got on the bikes and with tears in our eyes we left St. Augustine towards Tallahassee. It was a long, hot and humid ride and our backs were sore after being off the bikes for so long, but eventually we arrived at our destination; we ordered pizza for dinner, a task that is now so easy compared to Central and South America, but also a far cry from the feasts we had at Morris’ house. We missed them all so much.

The weather forecast for the next few days predicted massive amounts of rain, and since our route took us through Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana, we figured it will also be hot and humid, and indeed, for the next few days we were steaming in our riding gear like 2 stinky dumplings. We planned our route and departure time in a way that will allow us to be either before or after the storm and it was mostly successful, but when it wasn’t, we were hammered by the biggest drops of rain we’ve even seen, and it only took a few minutes of riding in the rain to be completely wet. With no respite from heat and humidity for days, our gear didn’t get a chance to dry out, and quite quickly we smelled like 2 homeless, wet dogs.
We couldn’t wait to get to Texas where it’ll be dryer.

By now, we were already 2 months in the USA and it was painful to see how much more expensive everything had become; the prices of fuel, food and accommodation have increased significantly and we were concerned that even the ‘fat’ we’ve added to our budget might not be enough to last us here until the end of September when we ship our bikes to Australia. Camping options were often more expensive than budget motels and budget motels were often asking for ridiculous prices compared to what they offered, but because it was so hot and humid we had no choice but to stay at these motels which sometimes smelled more like wet dogs than we did, but at least they had air-con.

We were making good progress west and were getting closer to Texas; we like Texas for many reasons, so we were happy to be there again, but this time we had a special reason to be excited – meeting Steve and Annita. We met Steve for the first time in Las Cruces, New Mexico, about 2 years ago, when he rolled on his Harley Davidson into the camp site where we were setting up our tent, and we remained friends since then; him and Annita, his wife, even came to visit us in Colorado after Asi’s accident and we were looking forward to seeing them again.

We were reunited with Steve at the fuel station in Claude; he was taller than I remembered, but with the same smile and kind eyes that we love so much; we hugged, exchanged some adventure stories and got on our bikes as Steve was leading us through the scenic route to Canyon, a charming little town where we had a room booked for the next 2 nights. We all had a delicious dinner together in a restaurant located in a building that used to be a train station, and we enjoyed our food while watching the huge freight trains passing just outside the window, sending tremors through the refurbished structure.

We spent the next day planning the next leg of our journey, a task which always takes a lot longer than expected, followed by long walk to the local Burger King; the weather was hot, but it was dry, which was a welcome change to the heavy humidity we’ve had earlier that week. We really liked Canyon, and though it was quiet when we were there, you could envision how busy it gets when the students are back in Uni, and the little town is back to life.

The following day we got together with Steve and rode to Meredith Lake, just north of Amarillo; it was hot, but we were happy on our bikes with our friend and had a great time exploring the area together. It was very sad to see how dry everything was due to the ongoing drought, with vast, bare fields and big agriculture rigs laying in the dust, and though we usually hope for dry weather that is more suitable for riding, this time we were praying for some rain that would revive the arid landscape.

From Meredith Lake we returned to Steve and Annita’s home and for dinner we went to The Big Texan, a mythological restaurant in Amarillo, mostly known for its 72 Oz steak challenge, where if you eat that giant steak and all the sides that come with it in less than an hour, you’ll get it for free; we opted for a more modest option and had a more reasonably-sized ribeye, and though we really enjoyed the Texan vibe and the whole shebang, we all agreed that if you strip the touristic facade, you could get a much better steak anywhere else in Texas.

We spent our last day in Amarillo exploring the stunning Palo Duro Canyon with Steve and Annita; we started at the visitor centre from where we could see the famous “Lighthouse” and listen to Steve’s stories, fascinated by his knowledge of the history of the area; from there we continued driving through the Canyon, with Steve and Annita making sure we avoid any sort of hiking or other physical activity, knowing well that we’re way too lazy for any of that. We stopped for a quick coffee at The Sad Monkey Café, named after the nearby rock formation that’s supposed to look like a sad monkey (perhaps if you drink enough Ayahuasca it does) and though when we entered the café the skies were blue, by the time we were ready to head back home, they turned black.

Our prayers were answered.

The rain that didn’t stop for hours was a sight for sore eyes; the dust settled, and you could almost hear the grass growing and the birds cheering. Everyone was happy.

And us? we’re leaving tomorrow, and we would be grateful if it’ll stop raining just for a couple of hours until we’re just far enough away. We promise to do the rain dance again when we’re in New Mexico.

03/06/2026

A bucketlist ride! Episode 11 of our great adventure is now live on YouTube 😁

In episode 11 of our South American adventure we farewell the beautiful Chacas and its vibrant markets and head back west towards Acopampa, just a few kilometers from Carhuaz. We ride through the breathtaking Huascarán National Park once again, get rained on in the Punta Olimpica tunnel and enjoy the rollercoaster ride of Ruta 107 while admiring the unbelievably beautiful scenery. This ride was pure joy, a motorcyclist's heaven that should be on every adventure rider's bucket-list.

Don't miss it! and if you like it, please LIKE and SUBSCRIBE 👍

In episode 11 of our South American adventure we farewell the beaut...

21/05/2026

*** NEW NEW NEW! ***

Episode 10 of our South American adventure is now LIVE on YouTube!

In episode 10 of our South American adventure we ride the magnificent Huascarán National Park, winding through the endless twisties of Ruta 107 and traversing the famous Punta Olimpica tunnel, all the way to the colourful Chacas. This is, by far, one of the best motorcycle roads in Peru, with (almost) perfect pavement, unbelievable vistas of Peru's highest mountains, tight switchbacks and sweeping curves, for as far as the eye can see.

DO NOT MISS IT! and if you like it, then LIKE IT, and SUBSCRIBE 👍😁

In episode 10 of our South American adventure we ride the magnifice...

12/05/2026

Episode 9 of our great South American adventure is now live on YouTube!

In episode 9 of our South American adventure we take you on a tour in beautiful Caraz, in the southeastern part of Huaylas Province of the Ancash Region in Peru. We roam the surrounding mountains looking for the source of a mysterious voice we keep hearing, explore the colourful local markets, try some local delicacies and join the town's festivities. We admire mount Artesonraju, a 6,025-meter (19,767 ft) pyramid-shaped peak located in the Cordillera Blanca mountain range, said to be the inspiration for Paramount Movies famous logo, and spend some quality time with our mate Paul (aka RtwPaul ) before continuing our journey into Huascarán National Park together.

Join us, and if you enjoyed it, please LIKE and SUBSCRIBE 👍😁

In episode 9 of our South American adventure we take you on a tour in beautiful Caraz, in the southeastern part of Huaylas Province of the Ancash Region in P...

08/05/2026

What the Heck is “Bo-Khan-Ga-les”?

Dodging the toll roads on our way out of Miami meant that we needed to make a long detour out of town, but despite heavy traffic, it was mostly flowing all the way to the i95. The battery in Asi’s Cardo was flat, perhaps we forgot to charge it after the last time it was used, so we were communicating through hand gestures until it had enough charge for us to stop behaving like two Neanderthals discussing the best strategy to hunt a Mammoth. Not ideal, but it worked. The weather was hot and humid, but at least it wasn’t raining, and despite being tired, we were very happy to be back on the bikes. It felt weird to ride in the USA again and surrounded by brand new cars on a freshly paved 5-lanes road, but the main difference was, by far, not having to worry about the pavement giving way to mounds of gravel around every corner we took.

We have now also changed our GPSs’ settings to show the speed and distance in Miles instead of kilometers, constantly reminding ourselves that obeying the speed limit is not merely a recommendation here, and although we were riding at freeway speed most of the time, it seemed like those miles take a lot longer to be ridden. We were grateful for the rest areas scattered along the route, an opportunity to stretch our legs and drink some water, but there was a specific rest area I was looking for the most: Buc-ee’s, which, for some reason, makes me unreasonably happy. By the time we got to Buc-ee’s, it was already 9pm; we left Miami at 2pm and now it was completely dark, and thanks to the high humidity, it was also cold and sticky; we had a brisket sandwich that was sweet enough to be considered a dessert in some countries, but since we had nothing else to eat all day, it was good enough.

At around 10pm we arrived to St. Augustine. We pulled over at a gas station to fuel the bikes, and on our way to Morris’ house we passed by a Bojangles, and Asi, brain fogged and already so used to reading Spanish, asked me if I know what “Bo-khan-ga-les” means; I almost choked laughing, and with happy tears in our eyes we rode the rest of the way to Morris’ house. We were tired, our everything was hurting, and the light Cold that I caught after our last hot-cold trip to Miami was now a pounding headache with clogged sinuses, but none of it mattered – our kids were back and we were safe and happy.

We woke up the following morning feeling like we were hit by a truck; the last two weeks were intense, both physically and mentally, and it was the first time that we could finally relax and take some pressure off; my Cold was getting worse and Asi’s ankle was sore, but we had nothing planned for the day, so except for some laundry and tying some admin loose ends, we didn’t do much. It was Passover night, and since we weren’t really up for doing much cooking, we decided to order some pizza and chicken wings for dinner, not your obvious traditional choice, but still good, so I am sure that counts.

Having a rest day was great, and the following morning we woke up with new energy, motivated by the sight of a pressure washer in Morris’ garage; we took all the panniers off the bikes and gave them a decent wash, slowly peeling off layers of dust, mud and bugs that we were probably carrying with us since Guatemala; we even peeled off the duct tape I had used to cover the BMW logos when we arrived in Mexico, which astonishingly still had the “don’t worry, be happy” visible on it, which I wrote hoping it’ll bring me good karma and deter thieves. We ordered online new bike covers to replace ours that by now had more holes and duct tape than fabric, new rain jackets, new gloves for Asi and some more bits and bobs for the bikes, including our favourite moto-wash spray that would allow us to clean all the nooks and crannies that we couldn’t get to with the pressure washer. We then went to buy some groceries, shocked by how expensive everything is, and not just when compared to Central and South America, but even when compared to the prices here, in the USA, just two years ago. We barbecued 2 beautiful ribeye steaks for dinner, this time skipping the side of chips as we’re trying to lose our newly acquired ‘muffin tops’, that weren’t half as cute as they sound.

After spending a few days in Morris’ house, Morris finally came back from his trip, and it was fantastic to see him and his partner, Tammy; it has been almost 2 years since we left Morris’ house with our panniers loaded with goodies after our last visit, and we sure missed him and his dog Lily, but now we also had a bonus – Tammy’s dog Oscar, a clever little Jack Russell Terrier, who I have fallen in love with at first sight.

The next few days were spent mostly doing maintenance on the bikes; Woolly and Elsa were given fresh oil and had new oil filters installed, Woolly also had his driveshaft oil and Coolant changed and Asi changed fork oil in both bikes, while I admired his work and made sure that every part that he is taking off the bike is getting a thorough cleanup with our magic moto-wash spray. We cleaned up Elsa’s chain and all the gunk that accumulated around it and Asi found an innovative way to fix her pannier that was still carrying an old injury from the time she fell into the water in Colombia. We took Woolly, who seemed to be much happier with the fuel in the USA, to the dealership in Jacksonville to have his valve clearance checked, and once he’ll be done, Elsa will see the Ducati doctors, too, to have her valves looked at and her timing belts changed. It felt so good to finally be able to give our bikes the love and attention they so deserve after all that they’ve been through.

I had the best time cooking and baking with Morris, Asi’s foot was getting better by the day and so was my cold, and we were excited that our USA trip V2.0 is about to commence; we spoke with our mate, Paul, who also arrived back at the USA just a short while before us, and made plans to get together at some point when we get to the west.

Happy Days.

01/05/2026

Christmas on Steroids.

Getting out of Miami at rush hour was painful, but once we were on the i95 it was an open road all the way to St. Augustine. We stopped at a supermarket to find something to eat, and after munching on some grilled chicken in the car like two starving Hyenas, we were on the road again with a bag of pretzels and a cold Coke for the road. Outside, it was hot and humid, and inside the car the aircon was freezing our ears off, and our bodies were struggling to climatise; it was windy and cloudy, and while some of the miles we covered were completely dry, others felt like we were caught in a storm and the rain was pouring so hard, to the point that we had to slow down to see where we’re going.

At around 2am we have arrived at Morris’ home in St. Augustine, tired, but happy.

The following day was all about running errands; we bought 2 local sim cards, insurance policies for the bikes and some groceries, including Publix’ famous gigantic chicken sandwich that we were fantasizing about since last time we were here, and was our breakfast, lunch and dinner that day; we now also had information about Woolly and Elsa’s flight and ETA, so we sorted the cargo payment and coordinated a pickup with the airline, excited for the great reunion. Initially, we planned to drive back to Miami overnight, release the bikes from cargo and customs in the morning, ride them just outside of Miami, spend a night somewhere and then ride the remaining distance to St. Augustine on the following day, but eventually we decided that it’ll be easier for us to drive there a day earlier in the afternoon, spend the night at a hotel close to the cargo area, release the bikes from cargo and customs in the morning and ride back all the way to St. Augustine, and so we did.

We arrived at Miami at 8pm, went straight to the airline office to get the bikes’ air waybills and sign the release documents, had some chicken wings and Philly cheesesteak sandwich at the hotel’s bar and went to sleep; it was raining and humid and sticky, and we hoped that tomorrow’s weather would be as nice as the forecast predicts, and that our ride to St. Augustine would be nice and dry.

The following morning we went straight to customs office, on the other side of the airport; we were warned ahead of time that other travelers in similar situation to ours had issues releasing their bikes from Miami customs and were forced to hire a broker, but we did plenty of research and consulted with a broker, and we knew that all we needed was a bunch of documents that we printed, filled and signed, a letter of approval from the EPA, which we have obtained weeks ago, our original identification and registration documents and that’s it – there was no legal requirement to hire a broker and spend an extra 1,000 USD for something we could do ourselves.

But research is one thing and reality is another.

As soon as we gave our documents to the customs officer, and before he even looked at them, he asked us if we have a broker and if we deposited a bond, two questions that we answered with a ‘no’; from that moment onward, and for about 45 minutes, he kept saying that we have to have both and we insisted that we don’t, and then he just so happened to have a list of brokers that we should contact to help us. At that point I was starting to lose my patience, not something you should be doing when facing an official in the USA, so we took the list and went outside to plan our next steps, without the risk of spending the night at Guantánamo Bay. It wasn’t just about being right, but it was also about not wanting to spend an extra 2,000 USD on bike storage, hotel, car rental and a broker for no good reason.

After calling 2 brokers from the list we were given and doing some more research online, I was even more confident that we were right, only now I was also able to pinpoint it on the CBP website where it says that if you are a nonresident, temporary importing your bike to the USA for personal use and you intend to export it out within 1 year, you do not need a bond and it is up to you to decide whether you want to hire a broker; armed with proof I went back to the office and showed it the officer who reluctantly called the manager, hoping that he’ll be able to put some sense in me, but instead, the manager, who was kind and patient immediately agreed with me, went back to his office, and after 5 minutes came back with a piece of paper he asked me to fill in. With all the paperwork now done, we came back to the first officer who processed the paperwork for us, but only after he mentioned a few more times that he thinks we are wrong and that he’s only doing it because his boss insisted, to which we politely responded with a smile and a nod, thanking him multiple time for his trouble, and hoping he won’t intentionally sabotage our records. Funnily enough, while he was busy stamping our papers and we were standing there silently waiting for the last signature, we noticed a huge sign, right next to his window, saying that having a broker is not a legal requirement and anyone can complete the process on their own.

Sigh.

With our papers finally signed and stamped, we drove back to the airline’s office to release the bikes, and I was grateful to know just enough Spanish to have a decent conversation, because the team there hardly knew any English; after some back and forth we were finally directed to hangars 41-50 to collect Woolly and Elsa and 10 minutes later, after another Spanglish chitchat, Woolly was making his way towards us on a forklift, followed by Elsa.

It was like Christmas on steroids.

We unwrapped our gifts, untied them, reinstalled their screens and mirrors, reconnected their batteries and rolled them off the pallets with some help from the kind guys working in the warehouse; overall, the bikes were in great condition, except for one of Woolly’s stickers that was pealed as it was rubbing against the cling wrap, and we sure weren’t happy to see that our screens were not wrapped before they were packed, despite a promise that it’ll happen. We thanked the warehouse team and rode the bikes to a shaded area outside the hanger, wobbling all the way there as the team that packed the bikes deflated the tyres to the bare minimum.

We organized the bikes, added some air to their tyres and when everything was ready, Asi took the car back to the rental office while I stayed guard; when he was back, the “lunch truck” was conveniently parked right next to us, so we bough some cold drinks, wore our riding gear, set our GPSs, fueled the bikes and were on the road again, hot, sticky, tired, but oh, so happy.

28/04/2026

*** Cañon del Pato ***

You do not want to miss this one! Episode 8 of our crazy South American adventure is now live on YouTube!!

In episode 8 of our South American adventure we tick off one of the biggest items on our bucket-list and ride the challenging, though magnificent, Cañon del Pato.
We traverse the narrow, broken road, ride through countless, unlit, hand-carved tunnels and try to ignore the shear drop-offs from the edge of the cliff as we ride the tight, dirt twisties.
The road is treacherous, but the scenery is breathtaking, and leaves us with an experience that we would never forget.

1 like. "Be Ride Back | South America Ep8 | Peru - Cañon del Pato"

24/04/2026

Did We Take the Wrong Flight?!

We woke up bright and early, just as the first rays of the sun started peaking behind the trees, slowly drying the dew away; we drank our coffee, loaded the bikes and rode the short distance to the customs area at Ezeiza Airport, where we met Javier and Sandra from Dakar Motos, the couple responsible for shipping our bikes from Argentina to Miami. The ride was quick and easy thanks to Asi’s excellent navigation skill, and after signing a bunch of paperwork, we made our way to the warehouse where we prepped the bikes for the custom officers’ inspection, human and furry alike. We took off our riding gear and packed it to be sent with the bikes, and once Asi loaded both bikes on the pallets with much grace, they were strapped tight, and we took the panniers off the bikes and organised them neatly in front of the bikes, open, and ready for the dogs.

We disconnected the bikes’ batteries and took off their mirrors and screens, just in time for a cute, though assertive, labrador to come and sniff our gear, making sure we’re not smuggling any contraband; when he was done and we were cleared, I was also cleared to pet the doggy, after which we signed some more documents and had an emotional (but temporary!) farewell from Woolly and Elsa. With everything now done and dusted, we made our way to the coffee shop with Javier and Sandra and ate one last Argentinian medialuna while waiting for them to finalise the shipping admin.

Getting back to the apartment without Woolly and Elsa felt weird and reminded us of when we shipped them over from Panama to Colombia; it always makes us feel uneasy to not have them next to us, and we were looking forward to being reunited with them in a few days’ time. We spent the afternoon organising our remaining gear, making sure that everything fits in the bag we’ll be taking with us to the airplane, and while we were doing that, we received the dreaded phone call from our family back home, notifying us that Danny, Asi’s mum’s partner, had passed away. We were very sad to receive the news, and it was especially difficult being so far away and unable to be there for her, but we were relieved that now, at least, his suffering had ended.

We had 2 more days left in Buenos Aires before our flight to Miami, and while our original plan was to do some sightseeing and celebrate our “2 years on the road” milestone, we weren’t really in the mood to celebrate, and Asi’s ankle needed some rest, so we settled on a short trip into town and lunch at La Cabrera, a highly recommended steak restaurant downtown, which was good but we weren’t sure it was worth the hype (or the price tag), but either way, we were happy to feel like tourists and unwind for a while.

Our alarm went off at 3am on Saturday morning, and by 3:10am we were already enjoying a hot cup of coffee outside; we were excited for the flight, but we still could not believe that this was our last day in South America and our emotions were mixed - by this time, tomorrow, we’ll be in Florida. At 4:45am our driver was honking to let us know he’s outside, by 5am we were at the airport and by 6:30am we were already enjoying a Whopper with a side of chips at the airport (yes, yes, who eats a burger before sunrise, bla bla), after completing check-in and all the security checks, relieved that no one asked why we have more batteries than underwear in our bags but also slightly worried that my boarding pass was marked for an additional security check.

Our flight was delayed, so we enjoyed one more hour of listening to the spoiled little girl who was sitting with her parents next to us, screaming and crying every time she didn’t get things going her way, and all I could do was keep reminding myself that locking someone else’s child in the bathroom is probably a criminal offence, and pray that their seat is on the other side of the airplane. When we were finally allowed to board the plane, I was relieved to learn that I was only randomly selected for the “extra security check”, and so after a quick frisk through my backpack, I was cleared to board, and we were on our way to Miami, far enough from that little brat to only dimly hear her screams.

The airplane was outdated, the entertainment system was just barely functional, the airline crew were grumpy, and the food was probably some of the worst we’ve ever had on a flight, despite the tempting offering of a “Shepherd's pie” for lunch, which looked nothing like the classic British casserole, but eventually, after 9 hours, 4 seasons of “Everybody Loves Raymond” and 2 lumps pf mashed potatoes mixed with unrecognisable meat, we made it to Miami.

Or did we?

The signs at the airport were in Spanish, the PA system was in Spanish, and it seemed like everyone around us spoke Spanish, too, visitors and employees alike, and for a moment, I was wondering if there’s another “Miami” somewhere in South America and whether we’ve made a mistake when we booked our tickets, but a big “Welcome to Florida” sign reassured us, and honestly speaking, it was kinda nice to still hear Spanish around us, making the transition a bit smoother and our landing softer.

A short shuttle trip later, we were at the car rental office with keys to the car we rented for the next few days, and once we were able to get our phones to connect to the airport Wi-Fi and our GPS to find a satellite, we were ready to go; it was already 6:30pm and we had over 500km to get to Asi’s uncle house at St. Augustine, where we’ll spend the next few days until our bikes arrive; we were tired and hungry, but we were happy to be back in The Land of Opportunities (and Buc-ee’s!), and excited for the next leg of our great adventure.

Bring it on!