Ted Kunz, adventurer, traveler and self-proclaimed wanderer, has been gracing the pages of the Idaho Press Outdoors section for more than two years. Most of his “dispatches” have appeared on a monthly basis, although readers have been treated to special editions — perhaps most thrillingly wh…

The intensity in those wise eyes. The resolute expression on his lean, weathered face. I’m fixated on watching him, but his gaze is locked straight up; he’s fixated on sussing out the route. John is completely focused, almost unaware of me, standing there, staring as intently at him as he is…

Here’s a brief note to remind everyone that while my African odyssey was delayed due to COVID-19 border closures, our Idaho Press readership came together to fund a state-of-the-art school science laboratory in Zambia.

Borders stitch two worlds together at a rough seam. Rarely are they pleasant or placid. Transient places on the furthest edge of a plane, they often draw the dregs from the outer fringes of separate societies; those misfits most in need of, well, any lucky break at all. Some seem to be strai…

Ted Kunz, adventurer, traveler and self-proclaimed wanderer, has been gracing the pages of the Idaho Press Outdoors section for more than two years. Most of his “dispatches” have appeared on a monthly basis, although readers have been treated to special editions — perhaps most thrillingly wh…

“Communion with the spirits is perpetuated through contact with the soil in which the ancestors of the tribe lie buried.”

The intensity in those wise eyes. The resolute expression on his lean, weathered face. I’m fixated on watching him, but his gaze is locked straight up; he’s fixated on sussing out the route. John is completely focused, almost unaware of me, standing there, staring as intently at him as he is…

The Ethiopia border is still shut. Alternate routes through South Sudan or Somalia are tempting, but a tad too treacherous for my taste.

Here’s a brief note to remind everyone that while my African odyssey was delayed due to COVID-19 border closures, our Idaho Press readership came together to fund a state-of-the-art school science laboratory in Zambia.

Borders stitch two worlds together at a rough seam. Rarely are they pleasant or placid. Transient places on the furthest edge of a plane, they often draw the dregs from the outer fringes of separate societies; those misfits most in need of, well, any lucky break at all. Some seem to be strai…

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.

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…

The sun was sinking and the first day’s riding in Mexico was winding down. Along a narrow stretch of tree-lined country road, I spotted a gate made from barbed-wire and sticks. There, I pulled the motorcycle off the road and into hiding, then strung up a hammock. I climbed in and reflected o…

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It’s safe to say I don’t know much about cars. I don’t just mean I can’t change a carburetor or even the oil, I mean I couldn’t point out a Chevy truck from a Ford unless I’m reading the words on the tailgate. The details of cars elude me, unless it’s something like a funny bumper sticker or…

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