In August, the U.S. State Department relaxed their global travel alert from Level 4 (Do Not Travel) down to Level 3 (Avoid Travel). That’s a favorable trend, but mostly meaningless. Countries determine their own entrance requirements, of course, and most of those nations bordering Zambia rem…

Eight countries border the landlocked nation of Zambia — Malawi, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Namibia, Angola, the DR Congo, and Tanzania — and all but one is locked tighter than a steel drum.

Two months and counting since I last pedaled myself into a stupor. I'm still hunkered down within the borders of Zambia, about as cozy and content as could be. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever leave. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever want to leave.

Once I’d stamped out of Namibia and into Zambia, the ambiance changed, but not for the usual reasons. Much of the world has slammed into lockdown. The Zambian government, heeding early advice from health agencies, is out ahead of the curve in order to flatten the curve. 

Once I’d pushed north of the Tropic of Capricorn, the desert all but disappeared. At last, lush green hills and cloud cover as I climbed the final miles up over 5,000 feet elevation, to Windhoek, Namibia’s capital city. Along the road, a baboon fussing around in some leaves. I slammed on the…

The 10-hour flight over the big blue expanse of the South Atlantic finally gave way to land. Gazing out my left-side window seat, from 35,000 feet, nothing but a barren Southern African desert, as far as my eyes could see.

Approached Chile by way of the geological juggernaut that is the high Andes. On the switchbacks of the “Paso Libertadores,” just a lone man on a moto, chugging along, content, aimless, like a speck of dust blown through vast chasms of treeless, sunburnt rock, in and out of narrow tunnels, sh…

For the first time in a long time, I was able to open up the throttle, wide, touching 85 miles per hour in the straightaways. Flying past farms and silos and vineyards, zipping around retro Euro sedans, some old Renaults, Peugeots, Fiats, a classic Citroën convertible out bathing in the summ…

The ferry over the River Maroni, which forms a brown water border between Suriname and French Guiana, went down for a week. Thanks to that fortunate delay, I was stranded in Parimaribo, the Surinamese capital city, a backwater of whitewashed clapboard structures, kitchy cafes and casinos. Su…

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There’s something satisfying about watching mosquitoes from inside a mosquito net canopy which I rigged up here in my modest hotel room. Mosquitoes are annoying, but in Amazonia, they also make me nervous. Good thing I bumped up my yellow fever vaccination.

The crossing at Sixaola, on Panama’s sketchy Caribbean side, nearly got me a night in the clink. Among all the usual border stress and chaos, the office to buy the required liability insurance was closed. I’d already crossed the border bridge and was now stuck in no-man’s land, all stamped o…

Rolling out of Oaxaca City proved to be the biggest challenge so far. Add up the great weather, colonial architecture, the archaeology, a carnival atmosphere teeming with gastronomic delights, and even some great new friends, and I nearly threw in the towel on this adventure ride and made a …

Attempting the summit of the 18,500-foot volcano Citlaltépetl, in the off-season, without a guide, without crampons, ropes, carabiners, or even an ice axe, was just too far above my crazy threshold. Alone without gear was the only choice I faced, sadly, because I was unable to find anyone pu…

When approaching a big city, when the mass of humanity first appears on the horizon, I start looking for the next big tree. Once spotted, I pull off the road, and there in the shade I shed any additional clothing layers, “powder my nose” (as they say), drink a bunch of water, let the bike co…

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After being a staple on Idaho’s Spanish airwaves for almost 40 years, Ricardo “RQ” Quilantán kicked off Hispanic Heritage Month by being presented with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the Idaho Commission on Hispanic Affairs.

Being an American newly in England, I pictured myself (in pre-pandemic times, of course) exploring the far flung corners of the country, from Cornwall to The Lake District and everywhere in between. I saw myself on epic outdoors trips, backpacking and bikepacking great distances through scen…

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