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The Red Ribbon: Cycling Home in Canada

A Twenty-Two Minute Read

image“To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong about other countries.” ~ Aldous Huxley, Writer

What constitutes as someone else’s regular? After spending two years rolling through the regular lives of forty different countries, my prior perceptions have been changed forever. I can tell you that the people I met along the way are just that, people. They are not all that different from you and I. We really all just want the same few things in life. We want a few people to hold close to us, a roof over our heads, food on the table and our health.

However, what is so interesting about these regular needs and wants are the cultures which make all regions of the world unique unto themselves. This is why we travel. Because, it is new and different. Along the way I experienced many societies in the way local people do. I got to see the daily grind, struggles and fascinations on the ground level. Stepping back from the things we consider normal, you would be surprised how easy it is to forget what makes our own home amazing. Quite often I would tell someone that a certain area is beautiful and they would stop, look, think and finally agree. Sometimes we forget. Sometimes we need those gentle reminders.

I was so long in someone else’s regular, that I was very excited to return to my regular. With Canada around the corner, I was beyond excited to experience old things in new ways. What is interesting about your regular?

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“Canada will be a strong country when Canadians of all provinces feel at home in all parts of the country, and when they feel that all Canada belongs to them.” ~ Pierre Trudeau, Canadian Prime Minister

With a friendly welcome from Canada’s border officials, and a picture down by the water in Windsor, Ontario, I was off riding. After nearly two years of cycling I was finally back in familiar territory. I took in a bit of the scenery and I honestly have to say it really felt like being home. Though Canada can be compared to the Northern United States, in many ways, it really is a different place. I felt a huge burst of energy and made my way towards London.

One thing I did miss immediately from the United States were the wide shoulders that are perfect for biking. People in Canada were respectful, but in a blowing side wind, I felt a little cramped on the side of the road. I pushed on, rolling down country roads alongside Hwy 401 through places like Lakeshore and Chatham. On my first night back in Canada I made camp near a little town outside the home of a farmhouse thanks to an old couple, Ed and Donna. They were happy to let me camp for the night. The sun was nearly set and I got to work cooking my pasta with garlic, onions and a can of beans I picked up earlier.

I set up my tent for the night and put everything in place. For nearly two years my things have all had a spot. The same tent with four bags and a bearded man. The routine of the nightly cook and preparation for bed was almost finished. While my pasta cooled, I wrote in my journal as I always did. Then I watched the sun set from my tent while slurping up some bean filled penne. I knew this would be one of the last times I could experience this type of moment. The peace and quiet of my tent after a long day of riding. The ache of my muscles and the final zip of the tent as I closed myself off from the world for a few hours. I lay back and let out a big breath, as usual. The strain of the road wafting into the corners of my tent.

The following morning, I was up early and headed for London. A 140km kind of day was ahead of me. The weather didn’t look that promising, so I started moving quickly after a few bites of peanut butter and bread. I was to stay with a cousin, Mary-Anne, and her family. I was excited to see a familiar face and have a warm bed to sleep in that night. Dark clouds were brewing behind me. For most of the day, I kept a strong pace while the clouds spit rain at my tail. However, this was not to last forever. The rain came in freezing cold buckets. The only thing keeping me warm was the movement of a bike. I was about forty kilometres from my destination. I decided to press onwards in the rain and worry about my soaked shoes and clothes later. Every time a car passed a freezing cold burst of wind would blow up my soaked rain jacket.

After about an hour of riding in the rain it cleared with the sun warming my body once again. Stopping to shake a bit of water off, I squished around in my old shoes bought way back in Peru. The heels were broken and had seen nearly six months of road. They owed me nothing. I jumped back on the bike and made it to my destination in the early afternoon. It was so wonderful to see someone I knew once again and get caught up. We all talked that evening over a beautiful steak dinner with Mary-Anne’s family and a close family friend named Christine. It was great to have people to share my evening with.

In the morning, we had a delicious brunch and I was full of energy for a much easier day of riding to Stratford. We took a few photos together and I thanked them for their hospitality. Being part of a large extended Italian family has many wonderful benefits. Along the way Christine took photos as I rode up along the undulating hills north of London. I waved as she snapped some shots and thanked her for all the support she gave during my journey. With the wind at my back once again, I zig-zagged down country roads towards Stratford.

I was staying at the house of a long-time friend who I had not seen in quite some time, Spencer. He was out of town when I arrived, so I stayed with his parents, John and Kim. They were beyond hospitable and very enthusiastic about my trip. When I arrived a family friend and cycling enthusiast named Brent was there to meet me. We talked about routes, our cycling trips and looked at some maps for my trip home. Recently, I heard that Brent had a stroke, and is currently on the road to recovery. Please keep this friendly man in your thoughts.

During my time in Stratford, I ate like a king and relaxed before making the push to Toronto. Kim, who is a professional massage therapist, helped me get out the months and years of strain in my muscles. I felt like I was a new man afterwards. I also visited ‘Ross’ Bike Shop’ to replace my tires that were balder than anything. This would explain my recent heroic spill in downtown Detroit a few days earlier. When I arrived he had already heard of my story through a friend, Scott, who I did an interview with a day earlier in the Stratford Herald. (READ THE ARTICLE HERE) He told me not only did he have new tires for me, but he was going to do a whole overhaul on my bicycle for free, along with brand new water bottles. I think he felt a connection to my story, the work I was achieving through Free the Children and my hopes for the future. I was blown away by his kindness and chatted with the guys around the bike shop. In no time at all my bicycle had a new heart put back into it. It was one of the most generous acts of kindness on my whole journey. I cycled back to Spencer’s place, feeling humbled once again by the beauty of humanity.

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“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” ~ Dr. Seuss, Writer

That night I got caught up with my old friend and made plans for seeing each other at the finish line of my journey back in Rideau Ferry. I shot off towards Toronto on a 160km day with rolling hills. There was traffic up to my teeth as I approached Toronto. Riding through Brampton was very busy as I cut along near the airport and headed for my cousin Marina’s house in Etobicoke. Marina was one of my biggest promoters and supporters of the journey. This was also a very special day, as the love of my life, Eliza, was flying in that night from China. I could not wait. It was going to be a very special day of familiar faces. Once I saw her come though those gates, my heart felt whole again.

Picking Eliza up at the airport with Marina late at night was an emotional time. Seeing my fiancée after eight months of separation was one of those moment you never forget. United Airlines annoyingly lost her bag though. We were too happy to be bothered much by it. The following day Marina had arranged a potluck dinner and an opportunity to talk about my ride. It was the first group of people I was able to share my ride with in a long while. The food was fantastic and I was even able to meet Alexas from Free the Children, who helped me coordinate the construction of all five of the schoolhouses. From Etobicoke, I made my way on a short ride downtown Toronto after saying goodbye to Marina. Eliza and I got settled downtown and prepared to meet up with Global News and visit the offices of Free the Children. This was also something I had looked forward to a long time.

The following day, I spoke at Free the Children and got to meet some of the amazing people behind the scenes. They even had a cycling cake prepared for me after the presentation. However, the table broke as we were about to eat the cake. It was not meant to be. Global News wrapped up their story and I was able to rest up in Toronto for the next few days before saying goodbye once again to Eliza. She went to be with my parents, and I rode onto Lindsay on route homeward. This would be the final leg of the journey home.

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“The fact that over 50 per cent of the residents of Toronto are not from Canada, that is always a good thing, creatively, and for food especially. That is easily a city’s biggest strength, and it is Toronto’s unique strength.” ~ Anthony Bourdain, TV Host/Chef

I made it to Lindsay after breaking through the traffic of Toronto. I stopped on the way to chat with an old friend from South Korea and swung by another friend’s house on Lake Scugog, Dale and Nikki. With so many people to greet me along the way home, my face hurt from permanently smiling. A great problem to have as I rolled into Lindsay to stay with Aunt Bev. I arrived at a familiar house, where I made many fond memories as a child. We drove over to her son Dave’s and we had a delicious dinner with their family. The following morning Aunt Bev and I had a bit of brunch at a diner (awesome) before I cycled off to Peterborough to stay at her other son John’s place in Peterborough.

Now I was really back in familiar territory. For five years I lived and even worked in Peterborough while I went to school at Trent University. I went by Trent and a few of the old places I lived just for the sake of nostalgia. After an interview with the local paper, I continued on cycling to a few old haunts with a big smile on my face. Not far to go now, I thought to myself as I rolled over to John’s place to stay with his family. All these extended relatives opening their homes to me and sharing their lives was so amazing. We dined on some delicious kabobs and I jumped into the hot tub with the kids before it was time for bed. I was gaining weight for the first time in weeks after being so well-fed everywhere I went.

In the morning, I met my Aunt Joanne, Uncle Scott and their daughter Christina for a diner style breakfast. How could I complain. A great way to meet close family and get my day underway. After a proper breakfast I was off riding. The weather started to turn while I rode on route to Sharbot Lake. During the day I got soaked three times along busy old Highway 7. Trucks splashed piles of water onto me and the sun would appear to tease me. The humidity would rise high, while the storm turned around and hit with another cold shot of rain. Even during all of the horrible rain there was a brief pause where I came over a hill and watched a beautiful rainbow form. Eventually, I made it to Sharbot Lake after 170 kilometres of hard riding damp and ready for sleep. During the day I had stopped for a quick poutine, just because I could. To see a recipe for a Canadian classic CLICK HERE.

The following day, I met up with Eliza and saw my mother for the first time since South Africa. It was a nice reunion before heading off to Granite Ridge and St. James Major Schools to share my story. I had whipped up a quick PowerPoint to share with the kids and answered a ton of questions. I thanked them for all they had done to help me achieve my goals with building schools in different parts of the world.

Sharbot Lake holds a great deal of memories from my childhood. I always remember visiting my Grandmother there and going to play at the beach. I rode by her house and thought about the old days. Grandma was a pretty big traveler herself and I often thought of her on my journey. From time to time, I wondered what she would think of the whole thing. We all had lunch with an old friend named Marg and my great Aunt Edith before I rode off to spend the night at my friend Josh’s about 30km on backroads away. More friends and friendly faces were to come.

It wasn’t far from Josh’s place to Perth. I made quick work of it and rolled into town ready for a talk at St. John Elementary on my ride. They were wonderful supporters throughout my journey, so it was so nice to share my story there. I had an interview with the local radio, Lake 88 and a final presentation at Queen Elizabeth School nearby. A few days early my best friend Dave & Tara McGlade had their first baby. That night I spent the evening with family having dinner then returned to Dave & Tara’s place to meet cute new baby Charles, before drifting off to sleep. It was a wonderful time to be back home.

From the other side of Perth, I made my way to Smiths Falls for three presentations on my ride to some of the supporting schools there. The speaking tour continued. Visiting St. Francis School where I went to as a young boy, was a very surreal experience. Returning to speak about my ride and encouraging young kids to follow their dreams seemed like it hit home for many of the listeners. As I wrapped up my day, I felt a huge sense of pride for all I had accomplished with my ride. Riding over to my uncle Joe’s I got caught up on a laundry list of e-mails and joined my family for dinner nearby at Aunt Fran’s with two friends from Trent. After a bit of celebrating it was time for bed. Tomorrow was a big day. My final day on the bicycle

After a good breakfast, I loaded up the bicycle one last time. I wheeled out into the driveway and thanked my everyone for their support. Global News was there to cover the last stretch of my ride. I pulled out on the road and began to ride as I always did. It was a cool and misty morning. The only difference between this and a regular day were the people cheering and signs posted welcoming me home. As I got closer to Rideau Ferry, I started breaking up on the bike. I had no idea it would be that hard. I saw a few more friends before I made my way towards the bridge to greet the group that would join me on bicycles to my home. Pushing over the bridge I saw the large crowd of people waiting with their bikes and signs. I was blown away. Tearing up as I roared down to the smiling faces I was overwhelmed and met with an endless supply of hugs. You can watch the whole story by Global News HERE.

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“Sometimes it’s the journey that teaches you a lot about your destination.” ~ Drake, Songwriter

After a quick bite to eat at Jimmy’s Snack Shack and a final interview, the group of riders kicked off to cycle the final seven kilometres to my family home from Rideau Ferry. From then on it was only smiles and laughs all the way home. All ages of people with a variety of bikes joined in riding together. Near the finish line a friend had set up a lemonade stand for everyone. A welcome break for those on route. In the final moments of my ride I took the lead at the front of the line. I was riding down the same old road I had cycled a thousand times. It was all too familiar. I rounded the corner to a group of family and friends. I picked up some speed on the bumpy dirt road and broke through the red tape at the finish line.

I was finally home.

Be careful following your dreams. One day they just might come true. 🙂

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*I would like to thank everyone that has made this entire journey a huge success. From all of the people along the way that helped me get a place to sleep, some food to eat and spent some time to chat. To all of the sponsors who have helped us raise over $47,500 to construct five schools in struggling countries around the world. With the help of many schools in Eastern Ontario and over 275 individual sponsors, we have helped give young children hope for a better future. To Free the Children for all of their encouragement and the opportunity to make a different. To all of my friends who rooted me on during the course of the trip and joined me for the final leg home. Thank you to everyone who went out of their way to make my final days on the bike a warm and welcoming memory that will last forever. To my parents, Vince & Dorothy, as well as my brother Luke for always being there. And of course, my rock, Eliza for being my support throughout the entire journey. I couldn’t have done it without all of you working together. Thank you all for making it the ride of a life-time.

**We are now so close to the final goal of $50,000 for the last schoolhouse in El Trapiche, Nicaragua. With less than $2,500 I know that we will soon achieve our goal there. You can read about the community of El Trapiche by clicking the link HERE and scrolling to the bottom for an overview of the work being done there. It is truly unbelievable how generous people have been and how near we are to the final goal. It is a wonderful feeling, with too many people to thank. PLEASE CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

***Now that I have finished my ride I am continuing to speak around Eastern Ontario. On July 11th at 6:30 pm at St. James School (5 Catherine St.) in Smiths Falls, Ontario, I will be giving a general talk to the community about my journey. I call my presentation, ‘Finding Your Bicycle Ride’. It is designed to encourage young people and adults alike to follow their dreams through the use of my bicycle ride as a jumping off point. I share the hardships of people around the world, beautiful pictures and stories from my trip. There will be a period afterwards for refreshments and socializing. For more info on booking a speaking engagement CLICK HERE.

****Though my journey is over, I will continue to maintain this website. I have a great deal still left to share and travel articles to write. Look for updates and changes to the site in the following months, as I start my transition to a new format. I am also in the beginning stages of writing a book on my experiences over the last two years. Stay tuned for updates on this and other events. Thank you for following along!

*****Watch the interview with CTV Morning Live HERE.

******Happy Canada Day! 🙂

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The Home Stretch: Cycling the States

A Seventeen Minute Readimage

On the road to success there are always obstacles that will stand in your way. Some will seem like they are impossible to overcome, while others will just be minor annoyances. Overcoming these roadblocks are all part of the larger struggle that leads to new avenues of personal development. Change in the face of opposition can be the hardest mountain to overcome. But, with determination, all good things will come to light.

After over twenty-three months on the road I have finally completed my journey around the world. However, it does not stop there. My trip continues on in my heart and my mind. There are a good many things I still have left to share and a message I want to make known to the world. The bicycle served as a guidance system to bring me through the challenges I needed to face. In many ways, the ride was more of a mental struggle than any other aspect. It was a daily obstacle course that involved split second decisions and chance encounters. I believe that the game of life is no different. We just do not see the consequences of our actions as quickly. The impact of our actions are in fact compounded over time.

In the quiet moments over the last few days, I have had periods to contemplate the ride. Sometimes I think I have a handle on all of the things that happened over the last two years and in other moments it seems to just be a cloudy dream. Images of people and places jump out like stalking lions. Some lay on in plain view. It will take some time to make sense of all that has happened. I have taken the messages from the road and know what obstacles I must overcome to move on. At the moment I am encouraging people to, ‘Find Your Bicycle Ride.’

You can check out the recent story on my completed ride and homecoming by Global News Canada by CLICKING HERE.

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“The great thing about the United States and the historically magnetic effect it has had on a lot of people like me is its generosity, to put it simply.” ~ Christopher Hitchens, English American Author

Our story picks up at the Mexican border post in Brownsville, Texas. Crossing over from Mexico was like stepping into another world. The affluence of the United States instantly blew me away. Throughout my journey stepping into a new country was always different. However, sometimes the changes were more apparent than others. Instantly people spoke English and I understood the world around me much better. In Southern United States there is still a heavy Spanish influence, but most people are able to speak English well. It really felt like I was coming home.

After a quick and relatively painless border check, I went to stay with some old friends who I hadn’t seen in five years, David and Diana. We had all taught English together in South Korea. During my break my good friends ensured I got a taste of American culture through some of the awesome food, sights and events in the area. It was a wonderful time catching up with them. Almost as if we had never been apart of one another. I even made the front page of the Brownsville Herald and was awarded a special honour from the Mexican consulate thanks to their help. It felt good to be with people who I had known from a different life. You can read the article in the Brownsville Herald HERE.

After a good rest and a hard goodbye, I was off cycling into a northern headwind. The landscape was flat and punctuated by massive ranches. On the first night I had rode all day and as the sun went down the wind began to pick up. I hid my bike and tent behind a wall of a ranch entrance, hoping no one would discover me in the night. Waking early the next morning I found that my water supply was running a bit low and no service stations were present at all. I saw a guy waiting in a rest area and asked him for water, to which he happily gave me a few bottles. Eventually I made it up to Corpus Christie and continued onwards through the beginnings of rolling hills. The views were quite pretty and the camping was fairly easy.

One evening in a small town the police said I was not allowed to camp in the local park. The sun was going down and I saw a man on his porch so I asked if I could camp. Mike said it would not be a problem as long as I didn’t cause any trouble. He made it be known that he had lots of guns and was not afraid to use them. Later that evening he came out to my tent with a huge venison steak, a couple sausages and tortillas for my morning breakfast. I was blown away and very thankful for his generosity. Throughout the United States I was taken in by people or the recipient of random acts of kindness just like this.

“A huge dollar bill is the most accurate way to teach children the real motto of the United States: In the Almighty Dollar We Trust… Until the average American realizes that capitalism damages her livelihood while augmenting the livelihoods of the wealthy, the Almighty Dollar will continue to rule. It certainly is not ruling in our favor.” ~ Kyrsten Sinema, American Politician

The following morning on I went north. Throughout my time in the United States I also spent a great deal of time getting caught up on my calories in the various gas stations. The excess and consumption was sometimes hard to handle after so long in countries where people struggle for the basic necessities. However, many people went far out of their way to help me through this section of my ride. It was humbling and endearing to witness. There are simply too many stories to share from this leg of the ride in a single post. I spent a great deal of time camping in trailer parks, where I met down to earth locals and people with genuinely curious smiles. I ate with rehabilitated criminals, chatted with remote farmers and shook hands with cycling enthusiasts from all over the United States.

On I went through Texas towards Arkansas. The hills continued to roll and the scenery was beautiful. I loved the roads through Arkansas with their wide shoulders and quiet swamps. One night I slept on the lawn of a family who brought me out beef stew and some ice cream bars. I was a happy camper as I passed my way through Arkansas experiencing the Southern hospitality. While resting outside a dollar store one afternoon, a man walked up to me and gave me a dollar. I tried to return it to him and explain that I did not need any charity, but he was not hearing it. When he came back from inside the store, he gave me a flashlight from his car and would not take no for an answer. What a guy.

Throughout the United States there were many people who walked up to me just to ask where I was coming from and where I might be going. Sometimes I did not want to get into the whole story, but if they were able to get it out of me, they usually did not believe it at first. I had gone to many countries on this trip that people are taught to fear. I continually tried to convey the message that even people in the ‘dangerous’ parts of the world are just that, people. Ninety-nine percent of people are not out to get you. Most would simply like to go about their business and be left alone to enjoy their lives. During the course of my journey I can say that people are not inherently bad. People become bad when they are pushed enough by internal and outside influences that cause them to rebel against certain factors. It is important to remember that the people throughout the world are not a statistic, but living breathing humans with similar wants, desires and dreams. We are all not that different.

Cruising along through Arkansas I eventually made it through a horrible crosswind along a flattened road to Memphis, Tennessee. I was in the house of Elvis and took my second day off since beginning my cycle across the United States towards Canada. With so many roads available, my route was continually changing. In most cases, the howling wind usually had a direct impact on where I ended up and who I met. Wherever I found myself at the end of the day, it always seemed right. It never felt as if I was lost or on the wrong track. There was always a new face to talk to or give me the motivation to continue onwards. Throughout the United States it was a mostly a mental battle I was waging against myself. I was trying to make it back to Canada in time to meet my lovely fiancee Eliza, who I had not seen in eight months. She was flying into Toronto and I needed to be there on time.

I rested up in Memphis and made my way onwards through spitting rain towards Kentucky. Very quickly the hills came rolling along with a ever increasing headwind. By the end of the day I got soaked in a cold rain. I was feeling low and miserable. Over the next few days this type of thing played on repeat with a cool northerly wind whipping across the landscape and hills that undulated for days. One evening I camped out in the yard of a retired Navy Veteran named Roy. He was a well travelled individual himself. We talked into the night about the history of Kentucky, shared travel tales and ate strawberries from his garden. I later found out he was a big fan of barbecued raccoon. Check out a few recipes for raccoon…HERE  😦

I left Roy’s house late in the morning after a second cup of coffee. I pushed onwards through roaring wind towards Indiana. As a made my way onwards I entertained myself with some FM radio after months of the same music on repeat. Biking through different regions allowed me to listen to a wide variety of music and genres. It was always entertaining as were the commercials. “Maybe your not fat, maybe you’re just bloated,” went the radio. “Take just one pill and see the results immediately.” I cracked a smile with the drone of the radio and advertisements in my ears.

“The United States gave me opportunities that my country of origin could not: freedom of the press and complete freedom of expression.” ~ Jorge Ramos, Mexican-American Author

Arriving in Indiana I pushed onwards towards Ohio and another friend’s home who I also taught with in South Korea. However, along the way I ran into a bit of bicycle trouble. My rear wheel seized one day on the side of a fairly busy highway. I pulled off the road and tried my best to fix the problem. I had been stubbornly fixing the same issue for months and it had finally given out. I was tired of repairing spokes and could not get the wheel to budge. I got the bike to the next service station and flagged down a ride to the nearest bike shop in the next town. I quickly got a new near rim, replacing the one that had rolled with me since Brazil. Truthfully, it owed me nothing at all. I continued on my way through Southern Indiana past a few ‘Donald Trump For President’ signs.

Later that same day, I got a flat. This was nothing new, as I was getting multiple flats almost every single day on my bald old tires purchased in Panama City. After patching the tube, that was now looking like swiss cheese, my bicycle pump broke. I was stuck on the side of the road again with no air and a very flat tire. As I was debating what to do, a man rolled up in a convertible. His name was Jim Jones and he offered to help me out. Stuck at the time, I welcomed his help. With the bike loaded up in his convertible we were off to get a new pump for my bike. Along the way, with the wind in our hair, he told me that he lost his leg on the very same highway when a transport truck hit him on the side of the road the previous year. His story of survival was amazing. As we drove he offered for me to join his family for a pizza, pasta and salad buffet. It was like a dream come true. We had dinner and shared some stories together.

After dinner we got the bicycle pump and he had originally planned to drop me off near where I left off. However, it was getting late. Jim suggested I come stay with him and his wife for the night. I was thrilled at the opportunity. When I arrived his wife was just getting home and she quickly welcomed me in as well. I was able to get a nice shower, wash my clothes and a soft bed for the night. I was blown away by this man. Even with his recent disabling accident, he had a lust for life and a genuine care for his fellow human. Saying goodbye the following morning was difficult, when he dropped me back off near where he found me the previous day. On I rolled towards Ohio with a heart full of hope and wonder for our world.

I had a good start on the day and had hoped to make it to my friend’s Zach and Bethany in two days. However, once I got rolling I decided to turn those two days into one. I arrived in Miamisburg, Ohio at 9pm after a huge 178km day over rolling hills and a crosswind. I was tuckered out and very excited to see some familiar faces once again. It was so nice to catch up with old friends and share some stories from old days working back in South Korea. I took two full days off to rest after my haul up from Memphis and was even treated to dinner at a Korean restaurant for old times sake.

From Zach and Bethany’s it was a long three day ride through the rest of Northern Ohio on into Michigan. I put in some big days and camped out along the side of the road. The wind was in my favour for once and pushed me forward through the final stretch of the United States. The terrain was almost entirely flat, so the long days were a little easier to handle. On the final few hours of my ride through the states I had to pass through the busy morning traffic of Detroit. At one point I ran into some construction, hit a patch of water and then a patch of gravel. Before I knew it, I had crashed and was rolling across the pavement. I was not impressed. I said I would replace my worn out tires as soon as possible back in Canada.

Finally, the Ambassador Bridge leading across the Detroit River to Windsor came into view. Even with my recent crash I was excited about my return back to Canadian soil. I wound around a loop of trucks and traffic as I made my way up the bridge. When I was nearing the halfway point of the bridge, a security lady jumped out of her truck, stopping both lanes of traffic. She yelled at me to get into the truck and put my bike in the back. The surly traffic police woman claimed I was not allowed to bike on the bridge. I had never had this problem my entire trip and was a bit annoyed. Especially, since her blocking both sides of traffic made the situation even more dangerous for everyone in the process. We got in the truck eventually and I asked her to just drive me the rest of the way across the bridge to Canada. She said, “no”, it wasn’t possible as I was on the American side of the bridge.

When I arrived back at customs no one was pleased to see me. I sat down in the group of other ‘randomly selected’ people and waited for the them to figure out what to do with me. I apologized for breaking the rules, I did not know existed, and was told to go down to the tunnel where I could get a shuttle to the other side. Apparently, biking back to Canada was not going to be a possibility. I came outside with all of my belongs gone through on a table. Begrudgingly, I put things back together and was off towards the tunnel. I asked if I could bike under the tunnel, but was told I had to wait for the shuttle. A bit annoyed once again, I waited for the shuttle and the ten minute ride over to Canada.

When I arrived back I was greeted by a few friendly border guards who asked a bit about my journey. They laughed when I told the story about the bridge. We all wondered why they just wouldn’t let me go. In total it was over 3,000km in twenty-two days of cycling through the states. I moved like the wind up from Mexico and had the massive expanse of beautiful country behind me. From customs I rode out into a sunny afternoon. I pointed my bike in the direction of home and let my pedals do the talking. It was good to be back. 🙂

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*I am proud to announce with the recent outpouring of support from schools all around the Eastern Ontario region we are less than $3,000 from the final goal for the fifth school in El Trapiche, Nicaragua with Free the Children. This is like a dream come true not only for myself but mostly importantly for the young people we are helping around the world. A few donations are still to be posted online. #BeTheChange PLEASE CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**After arriving home I have been busy speaking about my ride. If you would like to have me talk about my experiences in your area please contact myself at markquattrocchi@hotmail.com to arrange a date. I use my ride as a platform to help others, ‘Find Their Bicycle Ride.’

***To view the live interview I did last week with CTV Morning Live PLEASE CLICK HERE.

****Thank you to everyone near and far who have made my journey a wonderful success. To my family, fiancee, friends and online supporters who have made my trip an unforgettable experience, I cannot thank you enough. I will be sharing the final leg of the journey home through Canada in a post coming soon. Please stay tuned and thank you for following along! 🙂

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Personal Perceptions: Cycling Mexico

A Sixteen Minute Read

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“The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.” ~ Alan Watts, Philosopher/Writer

What makes you, you? This is one of the most important questions we can ponder on those idle nights. Simply wondering why you are the way you are is deeply therapeutic. We are all influenced by a unique combination of upbringing, culture and circumstance. Throughout our lives hundreds of players have huge impacts on who we are to become. Every day we are told what we should be, how we should act and who we should idolize. These are outside sources influencing us.

However, sitting back for a moment and putting aside the buzz of the world is important. Forget the push and pressures of the modern society. Who do you want to be, right now? What do you want to do, right now? This is something we forget, the right now. We have the power to change ourselves throughout our lives. I know I am a completely different person from when I was as a child, teenager and even at the beginning of this journey. People need to learn to accept that we all change. Don’t let your past define who are today and will be in the future.

The most important part is following what you believe makes you the best you. We need to embrace the beauty of change. We need to embrace ourselves. Personal developmental growth is how we prevent stagnation. This life is a churning river of bends and breaks. Sometimes it is good to follow the ebb and flow. Other times, it is important to break away. Make your own path to new sources of personal discovery. Ask the tough questions of yourself. Make your own path. But most importantly, be you.

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“Mexico is a safe, as well as a beautiful and warmly gracious, place to visit.” ~ Margaret Chan, Physician

I crossed into the state of Chiapas, Mexico from Guatemala in the scorch of the early afternoon sun. There was a power failure on the Guatemalan side of the border, but once into Mexico things went quite smoothly. Frontier regions are typically never the most welcoming places, but I felt quite happy to be officially in North America. My Central American journey was behind me with a camera full of pictures and a mind full of great memories.

I spent the rest of the day making my way through a fairly dry landscape to the first city of Tapachula. In comparison to the parts of Guatemala I was riding in, Mexico was much more developed. Food carts and little shops everywhere. Decent roads and gas stations with air conditioning to cool off in. I found a cheap guesthouse, grabbed a Mexican style Torta (sandwich) and did a bit of exploring around my new surroundings. I had been to Mexico many years ago, but this was a completely different situation. The week holiday in the isolated beach towns of Yucatan is not what really defines the hustle, bustle, sights and sounds of the Mexican heartland. I was excited about the road north towards the United States.

“I’ve seen zero evidence of any nation on Earth other than Mexico even remotely having the slightest clue what Mexican food is about or even come close to reproducing it. It is perhaps the most misunderstood country and cuisine on Earth.” ~ Anthony Bourdain, Travel Host/Writer

Through slow hilly roads with a crosswind I made my way along the southwestern coast towards the state of Oaxaca. The people along the way were friendly and generally very helpful. As I pedaled onwards, I began the culinary experience that is the beauty of Mexican food. Real Mexican food. I am not talking about burritos and gordita Crunches. I am talking wonderfully simple and flavourful tacos, bursting tortas, spicy salsas and handmade tortillas. The first time I had ‘Tacos Al Pastor’ I was blown away. One of the best things I have eaten on the entire trip. Basically meat done in the style of Arabic Shawarma, with some onions, cilantro and a squeeze of lime. I was absolutely hooked. In a small town one night I ate twenty Tacos Al Pastor and felt for once my eternal hunger was satiated. For a home recipe of Tacos Al Pastor CLICK HERE.

After a short cut through Oaxaca I turned away from the Pacific coast to cross the mountain pass towards the Atlantic. Throughout Mexico I had many options as far as routes were concerned, however, I intended to avoid a town that was coming up called ‘La Venta’. Literally meaning, ‘The Wind’. It is one of the most consistently windy places on Earth due to the geography of the region. Stories of trucks flipped over and flying debris is no place to intelligently head with a bicycle at this point in my tour. I elected the more difficult, though scenic mountain route to take me forward.

As I climbed up and over the mountains towards the state of Tabasco, I realized that this would be the last real mountain pass of my journey. The satisfaction of looking back from the top of a mountain road that took hours to crawl up is hard to describe. You are always happy that it is over, but the feeling and views are always worth all the sweat and struggle. I caught a roaring tailwind and made my way along through a much greener area up in the mountains. The air was much more comfortable but distances between food stops were longer. I made a poor calculation with food and water after passing the last town for 60 kilometres.

I pushed forward with only one thought on my mind, which was water. After a while nothing appeared and I was becoming dehydrated. I felt angry with myself for making such an easy error. As I pushed forward I was feeling terrible. After a large climb I was feeling weak and slightly dizzy in the sun. At the bottom I saw a police checkpoint and raced down to them. They helped fill my bottles with water and a truck driver gave me the rest of his lunch. I didn’t ask him for it, but happily devoured it like an animal. With this burst of kindness and energy I was able to make it to a camping spot that night outside a truck stop run by a nice family in the spiked green hills of Tabasco. It had been a long time since I allowed myself to be in that type of situation and vowed to be more prepared in the coming days.

After a few strong days of riding I rolled into the province of Veracruz and headed to the capital city. On the way I was drinking a Pepsi at a family shop in the middle of nowhere when the kids living there came out and gave me a big bowl of rice with tortillas and freshly cooked chicken. Throughout Mexico this type of random generosity was almost daily. People would tell me all the time that I didn’t need to pay for my lunch, sometimes hand me a cold drink or invite me to eat with them. It is not the Mexico you hear on the news. That is not the Mexico people want you to know about. But, in my experience it is the Mexico I will always know, remember and love.

I am not going to pretend Mexico isn’t without problems. It was around this time, as I approached the coastal area of the Atlantic, I began to see the armed conveys of military and federal police, working to combat the influx of cartel activity. They patrol the highway in full swat gear in armed pickup trucks with M-50 machine gun mounts and automatic wielding guards. On one morning, a convoy of armored vehicles passed me by on patrol, loaded to the teeth with weapons. It looked as if I was riding into a battle zone. I asked people along the way but all of them assured me that it was normal and there was a base nearby that keep the area safe. Never on my journey north to the United States did anyone make me feel like I was in danger.

I stayed with a nice family in Heroica Veracuz before making my push north along the stunning coast towards the state of Tamaulipas. While I visited with them we ate a large feast of Tacos Al Pastor one night and I listen to the history of the state from my new friend Joaquin. Veracruz was the site where Hernan Cortes landed with the Spanish in 1519 and consequently changed the face of modern Mexico. Read about Cortes HERE.

The route I chose through Mexico was one which was completely off any sort of tourist trail. I had set an original route which would hit all the big sights. But, I realized quickly that Mexico is a place I would like to return to. After two years of seeing sights, I realized that seeing them on my own does not make me any happier. My journey I have found has never been about the sights, they were only simple markers on the map to work towards. I decided to leave parts of Mexico which are famed for tourism to later. It is a long life and will mean more to me later. I would like to see them someday with my wife to be. Two years on the road can leave you a bit saturated and lacking the anticipation that famous sights bring to other tourists. I decided to put my focus on meeting people, exploring culture and you guessed it, eating.

Veracruz was a stunning off the beat and track province. I would recommend it to anyone who has a bit of time and patience. Places like Catemaco highlight the unknown beauty of Mexico. Pretty lakes and rolling green hills make cycling here worth all the while. The landscape slowly changed on route to Tamaulipas. The road was full of trucks carrying freshly picked oranges. Sometimes it smelled sweetly wonderful and other times a whiff of rotting produce would wake me up. I stopped along the way to check out historic churches in little towns and at in roadside stalls. I loved the energetic pump of a Mexican breakfast of eggs, beans, and endless tortillas.

“My sole ambition is to rid Mexico of the class that has oppressed her and given the people a chance to know what real liberty means. And if I could bring that about today by giving up my life, I would do it gladly.” ~ Pancho Villa, Mexican Revolutionary

I was a little bit hesitant with the final state of Tamaulipas. Known mainly for cartel control and corruption. However, people had been nothing but nice so far and I felt that it would continue, even in the less stable regions. In Tampico I was set up with a cousin of my good friends David and Diana whom I used to work with years ago in South Korea. Arriving in Tampico, Pamela and Oscar welcomed me into their home like an old friend. I was privileged to join them for a typical Sunday of family and food. Some of the best sandwiches (tortas) I have ever had on fresh Arabic bread. It was one of my most memorable days in months. I ate my heart out with both sides of their family and enjoyed time walking along the pretty windswept beach. The day finished off with a typical Mexican barbecue, I was stuff and happier than ever.

With my belly full and batteries recharged, I was off for the final push through the wild east of Mexico towards the border town of Matamoros. Along the way my wonderful friend Diana also set me up with her brother in Cuidad Victoria, another city known for all the wrong reasons. David and Diana were waiting for me across the border where they lived in the United Sates in Brownsville. On the way I was able to meet the whole wonderfully welcoming extended family. Diana’s brother Gonzalo let me stay at his home for the night, even though he had only just moved in. We went out for some delicious Mexican food and chatted with some friends of his girlfriend. Everyone was so enthusiastic and excited to help me achieve my goals. I was feeling extremely comfortable and loved by all.

From Victoria I had only two days to the border of the United States. I rode hard and long. On both mornings there was a terrible fog that soaked me in the humidity of the morning. Wild sunflowers grew along the highway with pastures of crops. I crossed green swamps and battled a horrible crosswind for two days. On route the Mayor of San Fernando offered to host me. Though he was busy, his assistants took me out to dinner and made sure I had food for the following day. People were all very excited to help me get through Tamaulipas safely and happily. Though the riding was long and hard the kindness along the way made up for all the work. I always asked the police at checkpoints about the safety of the road ahead and they were usually very friendly giving me the thumbs up. Over the course of my journey I think I have become slightly numb to the heavily armed guards that exist in extreme areas throughout the world.

On a final haul to the border I felt a huge surge of energy along with satisfaction at crossing Mexico. It was well over 2000km of cycling from one end to the other. Along the way I got to experience something few people ever get to see of Mexico. The friends I made along the way are something I will always take with me. It is not a place to be feared. The kindness I experienced here was one of the best I have seen on my trip. Crossing the bridge from Mexico into the United States I entered a different world. One with trimmed lawns and styled suburbs. I looked back across the border once more and felt I would miss the part of the world I had just left behind. A new adventure loomed in the United States. One country separated me from my home back in Canada. I cycled over to the home of David and Diana. I heard a familiar voice call my name and saw friends I hadn’t seen in five years. I was almost home.

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*We are now less than $7,500 from the final schoolhouse in Nicaragua. I can’t believe we are almost at the final goal of $50,000 raised during cycling journey around the world. That is incredible! I have to thank all of the people who have made this dream come true for children in struggling communities around the world. Together we are lighting the spark to brighter futures. Thank you so much! CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**I am currently cycling in the state of Ohio, United States. I am less than 350km from crossing the border of Canada and beginning the final road home. Exciting times to come!

***If you are interested in backpacking around Mexico, check out a travel guide for off the beat and track Mexico by my friend the Uncharted Backpacker by clicking http://www.unchartedbackpacker.com/top-5-offbeat-places-in-mexico/

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Anthony Bourdain: Tacos in Piedras Negras

Waiting on Luck: Cycling Honduras, El Salvador & Guatemala

An Eighteen Minute Readimage

Success is no accident. It is hard work, perseverance, learning, studying, sacrifice and most of all, love of what you are doing or learning to do.” Pele, Soccer Player

There is a great distinction between luck and hard work. Recently, with cycling in the United States many people I meet have been saying how lucky I am. But, I don’t see it that way at all.

I don’t feel like I suddenly stumbled upon my bicycle ride and was able to see the world. Luck is something that happens by chance, like winning the lottery. You wouldn’t say to a person who worked for years at a job that they are so lucky when they got the promotion they’ve been working towards. You wouldn’t say to a doctor that they are so lucky. No, because they worked for it. It is something they cared enough about to put effort into for long enough to achieve their goal.

Years before I even began my bike ride, I was planning, researching and dreaming. Slowly, I was working towards something that was very important to me, just like those people working on the big promotion. I had a goal and I set my sights on it. I saved, I read and I cared.

In many ways I do not really believe in luck. I believe in hard work. Most of us have the power to change our present circumstance if we do not agree with it. The reason why I am able to do what I do is because I worked hard. I made my bicycle ride the number one priority in my life leading up to the departure date. I live cheap as possible and rely on the kindness of others, which has in turn enhanced my views of our world and helped me grow personally. I realized, for me, what is truly important in life. I will give you a hint, it is definitely not material.

In relation, my charity work with Free the Children is also very important to me. Not all people in the world have equal opportunity to sustainable and positive futures. The sheer fact that you are reading this means you already had a headstart somewhere in life. In Canada, for example, kids just go to school. It isn’t even a thought. In other places, it is a huge struggle for money, access and commitment of the family. This is especially difficult for girls in many parts of the world supported by Free the Children. By building schools in struggling communities, we do not hand them the keys to the future, but at least we show them the door. If nothing else we give them the childhood we all had growing up.

Just yesterday, with the help of schools across Eastern Ontario we surpassed the goal for the community in Shuid, Ecuador, for a total of over $41,000. I cannot express how wonderful this feels. The best part is that it was the youth of Canada helping the youth of Ecuador achieve their childhood. Truly inspiring! We will now begin our push to the final goal of $50,000 and the schoolhouse in Nicaragua. You can CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

So next time you feel like the world has been unfair. That you have somehow been cursed or unlucky. That you are a victim in a game you cannot control. Please try to think of it in a different light. Bad things happen, that is a fact of life. Moving forward to new levels of growth and learning from our experiences is how we can deal with the nasty curveballs of life. Being a victim of circumstance, never solved the heart of any issue.

Throughout my journey I have seen the good throughout the world, but I have also seen the heart wrenching bad. I have felt the hunger, thirst, pain and struggle of the road. Seen the overwhelming depth of poverty and despair of people caught in terrible systems of neglect and abuse. Sometimes it felt hopeless. I have wanted to quit. I have wanted to give it all up and return to a life of comfort. But, that is never what I intended to achieve. Sometimes I need to remind myself that this is never what I wanted.

I have seen the change that is possible in our world. I have seen the difference that motivation and hard work can achieve. The world is a kind place full of hope and opportunity. Don’t wait for luck to find you. While you wait, all that could have been will pass you by.


Honduras was the original ‘banana republic,’ and its poverty remains extreme.” ~ Elliott Abrams, Diplomat

I bumped on into Honduras across the Nicaraguan border. After receiving a massive stamp in my passport and changing a bit of money from a man on the road, I was off riding through scrubby Honduran landscape. Though Nicaragua is considered a fairly poor country, the frontier of Honduras felt more desolate and rough. The landscape resembled a part of Zimbabwe I rode through that hadn’t seen rain in some time. I felt excited about entering a country most people go out of their way to avoid.

The road was potholed and marked from neglect. Most frontier regions look this way. The road had been so nice through Nicaragua, that I was missing it a bit. No matter, I pushed on through the humid scorch of the day. Temperatures in the forties and endless sweat on my face. Life appeared much tougher here with many ox carts on the road and a lot less infrastructure.

I approached a city called Choluteca. As I pedaled through I saw a Wendy’s for the first time in I have no idea how long. I knew it would be cool inside and I passed the hottest part of the day drinking endless cold sprite until my head exploded. Everyone in Wendy’s was dressed really nicely, some people even in suits holding meetings. It was likely one of the higher establishments in town with Wi-Fi. I felt like a lost tramp in the corner holding on for dear life.

I pedaled out of the city and eventually looked for a place to camp that night. I pulled into a lone shop on the side of the road and bought a bag of water. Water seemed to be always sold this way for really cheap here. I bit the corner off the bag of water and I asked the lady if it would be possible for me to camp near her shop. She seemed amused and happy at the thought. She told me to set up near her home in the back. That night we shared stories about our lives while her family and neighbors enjoyed watching me cook dinner.

These are the types of things that make cycling the world so rewarding. Disproving misconceptions about whole countries and stereotypes ingrained by biased media. The only time you ever hear about Honduras is when something terrible happens. It is villified by the media as a dangerous place and that all people are violent. However, I never met anyone that wasn’t friendly or genuinely interested to meet me.

It was only going to be a short stretch through Honduras to El Salvador, so I took a short detour down a back road the following day. Here, I was able to get a better look into life in rural Honduras. The road ran along a pretty river and people waved from their modest homes. Near the El Salvador border my bike decided to fall apart with two broken spokes and a flat tire all at once. I saw a bike repair shop on the road nearby and had a man patch my tire while I fixed the spokes. With some teamwork I was back on the road in no time at all. Soon after I entered another one of the ‘danger zones’. El Salvador.

El Salvador is a democracy so it’s not surprising that there are many voices to be heard here. Yet in my conversations with Salvadorans… I have heard a single voice.” ~ Dan Quayle, American Politician

The mood shifted once again, with a friendly border guard greeting me with a tourist map of El Salvador. This is the first time that has ever happened on arrival in a country. He gave me a big smile, no stamp required and I was off. After years of civil war El Salvador is now trying to pick up the pieces and reinvent itself as a place people want to visit. They use the American dollar as their currency and it is relatively very cheap if you live like a local. A land of beautiful volcanoes and natural beauty awaits.

I started off pedaling into an annoying headwind uphill in the late afternoon. I found a cheap place to sleep that night as the heat was too much for another sweat soaked night in the tent. I also got my first taste of the famous pupusas that El Salvador is famous for. Delicious! Truly a cyclists carbohydrate bomb of a dream food. Basically a tortilla stuffed with hot cheese and refried beans, at the most basic. See the recipe for the delicious treasures HERE.

I put in two strong days and made it down to the sun struck coast. I avoided the inland route through the capital San Salvador, because at this point big cities are the last thing I enjoy riding through. I’ve lesrned my lesson. One thing I did notice on my way down to the coast were the abundance of security guards weilding shotguns. Every gas station or restaurant seemed to have a man in charge of security with a very menacing looking firearm. However, most of them were very friendly towards me and often opened the door as I came in to cool off inside or asked politely about my ride. With the civil war in recent history, I think this is a remnant of an uglier past.

The coast around El Tunco was some of the best I have seen on the trip. Stunning sunsets amid picturesque rivers leading to the ocean. I took a day to rest my legs and ate a lot of pupusas. Soon after I shoved off on a winding very steep road along the coast. It was very beautiful but quite tiring in the morning heat. By the evening I had made it to the Guatemalan border and stayed in a cheap lodging on the El Salvadoran side. You guessed it, I ate a pile more pupusas and laughed with locals. Though tourism has increased in El Salvador, it is not what you would call touristic. Therefore, foreigners passing through small towns are still treated with a lot of interest.

I woke early and shoved off towards Guatemala after a quick and painless border crossing. I had been to Guatemala years before on a side trip during an archaeology dig I was doing in Belize during my university undergrad. The most exciting credit of my education. During that time I had the opportunity to explore a bit of eastern Guatemala, such as the magnificent archaeological site of Tikal as well as beautiful Flores. I decided my route would continue along the Pacific coast instead, to see the other side of the country towards Mexico.

It was the beginning of the up and down pattern that is riding a bike in Guatemala. Though I chose one of the easiest routes through the country, it still had me sweating up some of the hills in the stifling humidity. The views of the countryside from the hilltops were beautiful and green through the haze of the morning sun.

Though the sights and archaeological history of Guatemala are stunning, the driving is not so wonderful. Typically it was the buses that roared passed out of control up a winding hill that had me fearing for my life the most. As they passed, black acrid smoke would cover me and the glorified decorated school bus would disappear over the top of the hill. It is the fastest and most dangerous driving I have ever seen performed by a school bus. Also, the people typically could be seen crowded into pickup trucks as a driver whizzed up another hill. Often I saw men sitting on the side of these trucks where a sudden stop could send them flying. There is also nothing worse than huffing up a big hill and a Guatemalan garbage truck passes you.

I made my way along the undulating road towards Mexico with a stop off at the archaeological site of Takalik Abaj. Getting there was the hard part. Up I went on a massive climb into the jungle. I camped out in much cooler climate after some nice men cleared a spot for me. It was already dark and I was exhausted. However, I was extremely excited to camp out right next to Takalik Abaj. It is one of those places where if you close your eyes and with a little imagination you can be transported back to a different age. I could feel the history screaming up from the ground. It was wonderful to reminisce on my five weeks spent digging up the history of the Maya while camped out in the jungle of Belize.

This type of archaeological site is my favourite. The buildings are uncovered and left as they are found. Fire hearths and stele are unwrapped from years hidden in the jungle just as they were. There is not massive reconstruction done and things essentially are left as they are found. Because of this, there are very few tourists who visit sites like this. If you don’t have a genuine interest in archaeology, then your photographs might disappoint. It is the story which interests me. I was the only one there, and got a free private tour included in the small entrance fee. As one of the oldest sites of Maya habitation dating back to the 9th century BC, it is very important for uncovering hidden secrets of their past. You can read about the history of the Maya and Olmec civilizations who inhabited the region once upon a time at https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Takalik_Abaj.

From the site I descended down a massive hill and was off towards the Mexican border. I spent my remaining Quetzals (Guatemalan money) on a filling meal of eggs, beans, fifteen tortillas and a coke before the heat of the day became too much. It was a much easier ride to the border. The landscape became slightly more dry and the riding much flatter as I approached Mexico. A new adventure lay ahead as one of the final countries on my round the world adventure appeared in the distance. I said ‘adios amigo’ to Central America and was on the road leading home through North America.

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*I am now cycling in the United States and on a cruising path towards Canada. With almost two years on the road I look forward to using what I have learned during my time on the road and putting it to use in future aspects of my life. I have crossed the state of Texas and now riding in Arkansas. Track my progress home on the location icon above.

**Please continue to support the school building projects with Free the Children. As I mentioned up top we have just surpassed the goal for the fourth school in Shuid, Ecuador. Details for the final schoolhouse and community in Nicaragua to come soon. This is a very exciting time. Thank you for the support one and all! CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

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If the World Were a Village of 100 People

The Beauty of El Salvador

Human Boundaries: Biking Nicaragua with Free the Children

A 14 Minute Readimage

To be doing good deeds is man’s most glorious task” ~ Sophocles, Greek Tragedian

The human experience. One of the greatest gifts one could ever be privileged to. We have the potential to break personal boundaries and share with the world our individual powers, strengths and failures. Being accepting of our weakest points only makes us stronger. Keeping up appearances is destined to end poorly. Unwrapped, this is who we are. Approaching our flaws and growing from them makes us allow us to be who we really are. Embrace those weak points, by making them strong.

I’ve had thousands of hours to contemplate the human experience. What does it mean to be human? With the media in our faces and online glamour profiles we have become closer connected but increasingly disconnected from ourselves. We want to create the best image of ourselves. Online we can represent ourselves in business, personal and social forms. This connection has sometimes made us shallow and vain. In the last few years, a new dream has been born without definition or shape. It is frustrating and the world is trying to keep up in a race with no finish line.

Before, the road to ‘happiness’ was more defined. Family, kids, house, car and job. At least there was a goal, however somewhat materialistic, to work towards. We are more free to choose now than ever. Life shouldn’t be lost to hours on your phone or a checklist of gains. It is a beautiful experience, you just need to look up and look around. That is the main issue. There is no guide book. And there never should be. There is no definitive right or wrong way. Each individual should have the power to be their own person. To live their own life. That is why I cycle for education. Because it gives hope to those who otherwise do not have the same choices or options as I did growing up.

This brings me back to the human experience. It is just that. Life should be about each other. Helping others achieve their goals. Sharing in the achievements and bettering the lives of our fellow people. Whether they be right next door or on the other side of the world. We are all players in a spinning, living, natural world. We have the power to make a difference in our personal and broader world. We should leave a legacy that is real. Choose bright human futures, over decaying plastic superficiality. Life is the book we are all destined to write.

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I was very excited to be in Nicaragua. The land of beautiful lakes and soaring volcanoes. It was the thirty-third country on my round the world tour. The terrain became instantly very flat, I had a pretty good tailwind and it was much cheaper than Costa Rica. I also had a lot to look forward to in the coming days. I would be meeting up with the people at the Free the Children community of El Trapiche as well as the Me to We team in Nicaragua. However, first I had to get there.

I got off to an early start from the hole in the wall where I slept the night before. The wind was generally on my side and I passed through a windmill farm along Lake Nicaragua. It is a massive lake that apparently has predicable winds year round blowing off of it. By the time I reached Rivas I was starving. I even met a French couple as well as a Slovenian cycle tourist on the way. I ate a massive and cheap breakfast. One of the best breakfasts I had in a while. Basically rice and beans mixed called Gallo Pinto, served with fresh salty cheese, eggs and tortillas. You can see the recipe for Gallo Pinto HERE.

I had only planned to make it to Rivas that day as I wanted to go see the volcano that sits within Lake Nicaragua. However, it was Good Friday and was told there were no boats running that day. While I thought about what to do I found a Burger King with internet and drank unlimited sprite. I decided to just make a break for the historical town of Granada where I was to meet my host, Camilo, the following day.

It was Holy Week so many people were on holiday, making the road extra busy. I hunkered down and made it into Granada at the end of a nice downhill. I found a cheap place on the outskirts of town and a got some dinner before bed. Exhausted after another long day, but feeling good about Nicaragua so far.

“I am still profoundly troubled by the war in Nicaragua. The United States launched a covert war against another nation in violation of international law, a war that was wrong and immoral.” ~ Bianca Jagger, Nicaraguan Human Rights Activist

The following afternoon I met Camilo for lunch and got settled in downtown Granada with his help. It was nice to see a friendly face and actually just do something normal for once, like meet someone for lunch. I was more excited than he knew about simply meeting for lunch. Almost all of my meals are alone or rushed at the end of a long day. It was nice to chat over good food with a friendly face. Not often is there someone waiting to meet me.

I explored around historical Granada for the rest of the day and the following morning. Camilo arranged for me to join a Me to We group from Winnipeg for a tour of the city and to visit ‘Café de las Sonrisas’. I met a nice guy named Joe, with the organization, and we headed to the café together. There we listened to Antonio’s inspirational story of how he came to Nicaragua and started a café where all of the employees are deaf. He also has a workshop that only employs people with handicaps to make hammocks for sale. He is an truly passionate and talented individual who is currently making a huge difference in the lives of people who would otherwise have few options for employment. Nicaragua would be a very hard place to live with any sort of disability and he gives people bright futures. Together they are making a massive hammock out of old plastic bags, which you can see below. He is also a huge Bruce Springsteen fan.

After lunch the group asked me to speak about my ride around the world. Antonio was a hard act to follow, but they were a great audience with a number of questions. The students had some time to do a bit of exploring around Granada at the end of the afternoon and then we said our goodbyes. I never know who I am going to meet on this trip. That’s what is always exciting.

The lake is known to have been controlled by pirates as early as 1665 when Henry Morgan led six shallow draft canoes up the San Juan for an attack on Granada.” You can also read more about piracy on Lake Nicaragua and the real Captain Morgan HERE.

The next day I took my time cycling to Managua, the capital of Nicaragua. On the way I took a break at the historical Masaya market and walked about for a while. When I reach the city ‘Where the streets have no name,’ I navigated my way to where Camilo had nicely arranged for me to stay. The streets actually have no names in Managua, making finding anything a bit difficult unless you live there. I went with Camilo that evening to meet another Me to We group and to hear him speak passionately about the history of Nicaragua and the work of Free the Children. You can read a brief account of the complex and interesting history of Nicaragua by CLICKING HERE.

Early the next morning was the big day. Up at 5:30am, I had a quick breakfast and set out towards the Free the Children community of El Trapiche. It was a direct 25 kilometre climb up to where I would meet a group of boys from the community. We would then cycle the rest of the way to El Trapiche together. I was very excited and spun my pedals in low gear all the way to the top of the pass. It took almost three hours of slow climbing, but I finally made it with the boys waiting to shoot down the dusty road to El Trapiche. There is a drought in Nicaragua at the time, so things were even more dry and dusty. This made for quite the fantastic downhill bike ride.

It was a dream come true to cycle with these kids to their school. We laughed together as we rode down the crazy road and talked about what music they liked. They were divided among their taste of Justin Beiber. I can understand the division. The youngest of the group was the strongest of us all it seemed. On a few very steep hills we all had to get off and push as he climbed on up. The one boy told me that they ride the road once a week to go to the highschool on the weekend. Two things that are a testament to the reality of life in rural Nicaragua.

We arrived thirsty, hungry and a little dusty. After a some food and a water break I shared my journey with the people in the community through the help of Camilo translating. It was so nice to hear their questions and reactions to what I have and hoped to accomplish with my trip. The one man said that to them I am a hero. I almost welled up when I heard this. In my day-to-day existence, my trip seems incredibly normal to me at this point. Navigating countries, finding places to sleep and embracing different cultures is essentially what I do. I have come to understand that I am good at what I do and am still able to have a lot of fun while doing it. An experience I wish all of the world could have.

Later that morning I helped with digging the new playground for the school with a Me to We group from Canada and the United States. It was fun getting to know the students, facilitators and teachers. After lunch I shared my journey to the group. We discussed my route, struggles I have faced, the change that they all can make in the world and following dreams. I call it ‘Finding Your Bike Ride’. In that very moment they were in the process of youth helping youth. For many young people, I think the experiences they have through Free the Children truly set in after they get home and return to the privileged reality of Canada. They see the reverse culture shock of the differences between societies. They see the power they have to actually make a change. To put a smile on a face and brighten the world for others is actually a very real possibly.

I was welcomed that night to meet Camilo’s lovely family and joined in for dinner after a full day. After the experiences we shared, I am proud to call him my friend. I am always blown away by the wonderful and passionate people Free the Children have on their team. I said my farewells and was off riding towards the colonial city of León the following morning.

I road past windy lakes and more stunning volcanoes. Nicaragua is one of those countries I would like to return to and explore more. The people are very friendly and are excited to share their home with the world. Arriving in León I found a hostel to park my bike and explored a bit of the city. At one of the focal points during the 1979 revolution, León represents more than just colonial fingerprints. People fought from street to street in a struggle to regain control of their freedoms. As you walk about you feel that there is more in the air than old churches and historic buildings. The revolution is in the eyes of the population. A lot has changed in Nicaragua in the last few years. I hope to return one day and see the continued progress and improvement of the daily lives of the people. Education, will be at the heart of this positive growth.

When I arrived at the border town of Somotillo some five kilometers away from Honduras, I checked into a rundown little guesthouse. As luck would have it I found a retired cycling couple from the United States there. Mike and Linda were headed south. We chatted that night over some dinner about our rides and routes ahead. Unexpectedly they even paid for my dinner. They said it was their contribution to my nice charity work. You can read about Linda and Mike’s journey at GONE 4 A Ride. Their trip is nearing the two year mark and they hope it will last another eight as they make their way around the world.

The following morning I was off fairly early and pedaled onto Honduras and the next chapter of my Central American adventure. After Nicaragua I was filled up with emotion and good vibes. I felt like I was really making a difference. That my ride was touching the lives of more people than I ever thought possible. The dream of changing the lives of individuals as I went and they changing mine in return, has been a continuous aspect of my journey. The power of the individual never ceases to amaze me. I felt like the wheels on my bike were rolling on more than just kilometres. I was being pushed by the hope and strength of the people. This is the human experience that drives me forward.

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*At the moment we are moving our way towards the goal for the schoolhouse in Shuid, Ecuador. Please keep the people of Ecuador in your thoughts as they recover from the most recent devasting earthquake. As far as I have heard everyone in the Free the Children communities are doing okay as well as staff and Me to We volunteers. Only $4,000 to go to reach our goal after a kind sponsorship from Tom & Pat Morell. PLEASE CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**It has now been a year since the passing of my cousin Jamie Quattrocchi. He was tragically swept away by a rogue wave while sightseeing with his girlfriend Brittany at Peggy’s Cove in Nova Scotia last April. Thanks to the hard work of my Aunt Caroline, Uncle Jim, Brittany and support of the community as a whole back home, improvements have been made to safety at Peggy’s Cove. We all miss you Jamie and think of you often. You can read the article on improvements by CLICKING HERE.

***I am making my way through the hills of Mexico at the moment. It is a beautiful country with great food and a lot to take in each day. This week I reached a huge milestone at over 30,000km cycled since starting my journey. With home on the horizon I will be moving more quickly than usual, but still stopping to take in that which surrounds me. Thanks for reading!

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Adopt-A-Village Initiative ~ Free the Children

A Video on the Beauty of Nicaragua ~ A Must Watch!

Bruce Springsteen ~ Streets of Philadephia (For Antonio)

Individual Days: Cycling Panama & Costa Rica

A Sixteen Minute Read

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Whenever I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the human race.” ~ HG Wells, English Author

Heaving myself over the crest of another hill I stop for a moment to take it all in. I take in the green view on the Panamanian horizon. The morning humidity rises in a haze of heat as if an oven element were sudden switched on. The sound of nature hums to great the day. With a new day the world is busy. Wildlife and modernity collide in a losing battle. A man motions me over for a cold cup of water. I feel the sweat and salt already beginning to form. I am in a new land, new continent and a new day.

The individuality of each unique day, person and experience is what makes life so interesting. It is what fuels the tank for travel. You can see all of the countries in the world, but each day and each person only happens once. It is the people that make travel interesting for me. The unpredictability of seeing or meeting someone new is very exciting. On the bicycle I am in the drivers seat of a daily ethnological experience.

By traveling to a new place you are seeing many things for the first time. That is always why it is so exciting and home may seem like the same old bore. But, no two days are ever exactly alike. Though some days may seem similar and mundane to the untrained eye, I assure you, they are not. To see the world as something that is new and exciting each day is a skill worth working on. To wake up and feel the thrill of the day open before you, is to live in the exact moment as it was meant to be. You, our people, the sun and wind, converging on a single moment. A single beautiful individual day.

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The story picks up as I safely arrived in Jaqué, Panama after an eight hour sun scorched foodless journey on a small fishing boat. After over a week of waiting and problems with immigration in Colombia I was ready for my adventure by bicycle to resume. However, I knew this meant at least one more boat.

When I arrived immigration was waiting on shore and I waded through the shallow water with my bike and all my gear towards land. I bit farewell to Justino and was glad to put that part of the trip behind me. I spoke with the immigration official and found there was a boat leaving in a few hours to Panama City. I was so happy. He said I could not be on it. At this point he already had my passport and said he had to ‘verify’ me. Most borders take ten minutes maximum to do this type of thing, so I was having a hard time understanding.

I pleaded with the guy to stamp me in, so I could leave on the cargo boat to the city. I explained I had already waited one week for the last boat, but he didn’t seem to care at all. I sat outside on the step of the immigration building as he said I couldn’t go inside. While I waited the boat left without me, again.

I watched him go in and out of the building and pretty much ignore me. I’d ask when I could have my stamp, but he would just tell me to wait fifteen minutes more. He just walked about the dusty jungle town texting and doing a whole lot of nothing. Five hours later as the sun went down he walked out and handed me my passport. I let him experience my discontent.

I was extremely hungry and frustrated at this point. There was even less in this town than Bahio Solano. I found the single rundown guesthouse and got some dinner into me. I had another bucket shower and dreamed of the day for running water. I then began asking around town and instantly knew my options were terrible. The police said the next cargo ship was the one that just left and would return again in one week. Devastation. There was the possibility of a boat that went to near where the Pan-American highway begins in Panama, but there were no boats going at this time. Even if I got to there it still meant three days of biking to Panama City. One man said he would take me, but for $500. He needed a boat load of people to make it worth his while and drop the price. People were generally helpful at this point though. I went to bed exhausted.

The next morning I set out again to annoy everyone in the little town until I got a ride out of there. The same answers from all new people. ‘One week. A lot of money. I don’t know.’ Until one nurse who actually spoke English had an idea. “Why don’t you take the plane that leaves tomorrow for Panama city?” He said. It was a 35 minute ride on a single propeller plane. It would in turn cost the same if I waited a week for the cargo boat. Time was money and sanity. The point of taking the Pacific route was to cross the Darién Gap by not flying, but I had seen enough and was excited to get going on my bike once again. This was my ticket out. I took it.

We convinced the lady who sold the tickets to book me a seat. She was worried about my bike though. I would have to take it apart and pack everything really small. This was no problem, but took a few tries for her to accept how compact I had my bike. One of my pedals was seized onto the bike and the were totally screws stripped. After an hour of smashing with the local bike mechanic, it wouldn’t move. He found a handsaw helped me saw it in half. For all of the work he wouldn’t take any money, but accepted a cold box of milk. Time to get new pedals in Panama City. I was a bit sad, as the pedals were one of the few parts that had made the entire journey so far. Everything was approved by the lady and I thanked my new friend Javier many times for negotiating and helping me make my escape back to civilization.

In the morning a man with a wheelbarrow arrived to take the pieces of my bicycle and bags to the airport. There are no roads in Jaqué, just walking paths and bike routes. I paid him a dollar and we walked towards the airstrip at the edge of the village. They weighed all my stuff on a scale as old as time itself and told me I should pay for everything including my ticket in Panama City. The first time I’ve ever boarded a plane and paid after. I guess there was incentive for us to arrive.

Once a week a tiny plane arrives in Jaqué. From what I gathered, it is a big event. After a bit of waiting a huge crowd had formed. All of these people surely couldn’t be going on the plane I thought. Then out of the distance it appeared, humming seemingly right out of the jungle. The children were all pointing as it roared up and cut the engine. It was tiny and I was excited. A few people got off and five people got on, myself included. In a few moments we were roaring down the runway. I was sitting right behind the pilot and could see all the little controls and switches. It was actually really cool and a unique experience for me.

The Panama Canal is like a wound that humans inflicted on the Earth – one that nature is trying to heal.” ~ Abdiel Perez, Locks Superintendent Panama Canal

In no time at all Panama City and the canal came into view. All of the ships waiting to go through the locks passed under our wings and I was taken from the jungle town with one restaurant to a massive city with everything you could imagine. I got all my gear sorted and set to putting my bike together at the airport. In no time at all the crazy man everyone would stop and stare at for a moment had put together his bike and was off riding with one pedal.

Cycling through roaring traffic I found a hostel with an empty bed after a few tries. It was in Casca Viejo, the old downtown. This was my second trip to Panama. I had come four years prior almost to the exact day with my brother Luke on a March break holiday. We went to the San Blas Islands, explored Panama City, visited the canal and walked up Ancon Hill. A completely different trip entirely. It was nice change though, because for the first time in almost two years I was somewhere I had actually been before. Though it had been a while since I was last in Panama City, a lot was still familiar. I enjoyed walking along the harbor and taking in the fish market. I grabbed some cheap fish ceviche and took in a bit of modern reality. One of my favourite cities on the trip and I would certainly return again. (For tips and tricks from the Huffington Post on making one of my favourite dishes, Ceviche, CLICK HERE)

The next day I dealt with my very worn out bike. I found a shop and had a complete tune up to start my final leg home. My tires had been rolling since South Africa and were completely done. I got new pedals and a whole bunch of little parts replaced. My bike had a beating heart again. The following morning I was off riding early. I was excited to be back on the road and see what the next adventure had in store. There was even a new bike path with beautiful flowers along the sides to guide me out of the city.

Cycling in Panama was a nice break from the massive climbs of South America. Though it is an undulating series of low hills I could actually find a rhythm and speed along pretty nicely. In the morning, I got caught up in a bicycle race with people on lightweight road bikes. Along the higheay every few kilometers there were stands with Gatorade, water, granola bars and bananas. They were more than happy to share their snacks and I was more than happy to take a few bottles of Gatorade for the road. Pretending to discover the stands each time was fun for me. On one of the hills I passed by a group of cyclists in the race with my fully loaded bike, I felt proud at how strong my legs had become over the course of the trip. That night I camped near the beach and cooked my simple pasta. Life was back to normal and I was in my happy place once again.

After taking in a beautiful morning ride I set down to pedal through heat. On my second night I camped at the house of a lady that saw me two days earlier near Panama City. Martha was her name. A very friendly women who owned a fresh juice shop. While I waited for my pasta to cook I drank fresh cold pineapple and mango juice. She had to leave early in the morning before the sun rose, but trusted me to let myself out. Moments like this really teach me a lot about the nature of humanity and the good will that exists. The propagated fear and disparity seen on the evening news is not what deserves attention. It is not even the norm of human society, but we choose to promote it and believe. I have seen the true nature of humanity from the seat of my bike. And it is beautiful.

The following days saw a continuation of the up and down slopes towards the border with Costa Rica. I camped at a police station one night. They even gave me a full dinner and a place to shower. The one officer friendly grilled me on my adventure while I ate another pile of fried plantains. As I cycled out the following day there was some serious construction happening along the road. The workers cheered me on and often offered ice cold water they had in big jugs along the road. I must have looked dead tired, because they always offered before I asked. In the scorching heat of over 40 degrees each day, ice cold water breaks were a dream come true. Sometimes I would even hide out in a McDonalds if it appeared, drink unlimited Sprite while using free Wi-Fi and enjoying the air-condition.

Witnessing Panama’s overnight transition from banana republic to middle-class retirement haven is like watching the Univision version of Extreme Makeover: it feels so tacky but you can’t change channels because you just have to find out what happens next.” Andrew Evans, Writer

The roads in Panama were generally very good and took me towards my thirty-second country, Costa Rica. I was excited about making good time through Panama and looking forward to cycling the beautiful Costa Rican coast. Overland travelers are supposed to have onwards tickets out of the country, however, the border lady looked the other way and let me pass through. I was becoming worried about my passport filling up as I had no new pages left and a few countries to still get through. I hoped the next few crossings would be understanding and welcoming. I realize that this is a really fortunate problem to have though.

In the first ten minutes of cycling Costa Rica I blew a spoke. I found some cover from the sun and fixed it up while a nice man bought me a Pepsi and watched me curiously. At this point some of the spokes were quite old and becoming rusted from days on the road. They break easily and I just get on with it, fix it up and try to get moving again as quick as possible. These little things which used to be a huge problem are now just daily annoyances which I have come to deal with.

As the eco- and adventure-tourism capital of Central America, Costa Rica has a worthy place in the cubicle daydreams of travelers around the world.” ~ Lonely Planet

Off rolling in Costa Rica showed a beautiful green scene in amongst the roaring traffic headed for the capital. I met a English cyclist at the end of the day and we decided to try and find somewhere to camp together. We rolled down a quiet road in Piedras Blancas National Park and found a man to ask to pitch our tents. He said he had a cabin we could sleep in not far away. It was actually only half finished surrounded by vegetation, but we climbed up top and threw out our mattresses. With a bit of bug spray there was no need for setting up the tent. We chatted into the night about our rides and said farewell early in the morning. The National Park was buzzing with birds and sounds of thousands of insects. A really memorable sleeping spot.

I rode off looking to escape the traffic. Finding the road towards the coast the highway improved greatly as well as my mood. The riding was nice, green and fairly easy for the most part. However, Costa Rica is much more expensive than anywhere I had been since Europe. When a coke costs four times what it did in Panama you have the feeling that moving quickly is the best option. There is a reason why people have come and will continue to come to Costa Rica, because it is stunningly beautiful and they have made a huge effort to preserve their natural ecosystems. However, all other touring cyclists I met were making a quick route through to return to cheaper territory. It is fine on a week long holiday, but extended travel and Costa Rica are a difficult combination for the budget traveler. I brought most of my food with me from Panama knowing this would be the case.

Over the next two days my bike decided it would just fall apart. In the span of one moment I broke two spokes. I fixed them both and immediately broke another. I gave up on that as night was coming and needed to find a place to sleep. In another moment I had a flat tire. I found a camp site luckily, then begrudgingly fixed the other broken spoke as well as the flat tire after I washed and ate dinner. I spent a sweaty night in my tent and got going early. Not long after my gears seized and my headstock started making awful noises and wobbling all over. I took it off to inspect and the ball bearings crumbled into dust. The original parts of the bike had lasted all the way here, so I couldn’t be too upset. At this point I had a severely crippled bike stuck in only one gear. It had been a while since I had a day off. I headed towards Quepos and got a bed at a hostel. It was Sunday so everything was closed. The next day I had all things set straight again on my bike when the shop eventually opened and felt good about things again for the moment. I relaxed a bit and swam around in the hostel pool.

I headed off for the border of Nicaragua. It wasn’t far from here and camping would be easy for the next few days as I left the allure of the coast behind. Early on the first day I cycled over a bridge that was full of huge crocodiles in the river below. Pretty awesome to see actually. After a sweaty day and one big climb, I was down on the coast again. I camped out on a beautiful beach almost completely to myself. I cooked my pasta and enjoyed the sunset. These moments are what it is all about. When I can soak in the beauty of nature, the quiet of the night and reflect on how far I have come.

Nicaragua was not far now and I had only two more days riding to get there. The terrain became more scrubby and rugged as I approached the frontier. I drank cold fresh coconut water during the hottest part of the day. Something I had missed for a while. A throwback to my beginning days of cycling back in Hainan China where my ride began. Natures’ Gatorade. It was a hot two days but I made it just in time for the border to close after breaking two more spokes. They rushed me through and the sun set as I hurried around looking for a place to sleep on the Nicaraguan side of the line.

I took a deep breath and knew that tomorrow would be another beautiful individual day. Full of victories, struggles, beauty and mystery.

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*We are now more than halfway towards the schoolhouse in Shuid, Ecuador. I would like to thank Lori Bryden as well as Annette & Derek Buffam for their recent donations. Please continue supporting the cause by CLICKING HERE TO DONATE.

**Check out a recent guest post of mine featured on Stephen Gollan’s site the ‘Uncharted Backpacker’. It gives insight into my opinions on bike travel and my motivation behind cycling the world. Follow the link to the article. http://www.unchartedbackpacker.com/freedom-bicycle-cycling-home-china/

***I am currently cycling in the rugged region of Chiapas, Mexico. I am now back in North America. Hooray! Keep following along for future posts on Central America. Home is on the horizon and I have been moving quickly. The next post with be on Nicaragua and my experiences visiting the community of El Trapiche with Free the Children and Me to We. There is always more to these stories than I have time to share, but I do my best. Thanks for reading! 🙂

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A Cool Time-Lapse of a Panama Canal Crossing

A Relavent Music Video on Modernity ~ Matt Good 21st Century Living

The Battle of Heart & Mind: Cycling Ecuador

A Fifteen Minute Read

In a conflict between the heart and the brain, follow your heart. ” ~ Swami Vivekananda, Indian Hindu Monk
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Sometimes we find ourselves at a crossroads. These moments make us look deep inside. We look towards the chorus of voices calling us. The voices of our heart. Thinking and contemplating aside. If you listen in between the beats, you will see your path.

At first it can be hard to accept the new or difficult. It makes the normal look like a big fluffy pillow. The unknown is daunting. It plays tricks on our minds. It creates problems and illusions of failure, trouble and danger. This is our mind. The heart put the thought there originally. The mind likes to be comfortable. The mind doesn’t like to work when it is not needed. That is why it likes television reruns. It knows what to expect. There are no surprises. There are few thoughts to compute and decisions to be made, other than a third scoop of ice cream perhaps.

The heart always has the harder task. But it is always ready. The mind sets up blockades while the heart pumps them away. Once the heart has convinced the mind to see things as they are, it becomes much easier for the mind to let go. To let the heart guide the body in the direction the mind knows is right. The first and last steps are the hardest.

At this point in my journey it is only the mind that stands in my way. My heart knows what it wants. The mind only has a few games left to play. Working together, they can make an awesome team. Follow your heart and your mind will come.
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The point of going somewhere like the Napo River in Ecuador is not to see the most spectacular anything. It is simply to see what is there.” ~ Annie Dillard, Author

I arrived in Coca via the Napo River in the Ecuadorian Amazon. It was the beginning of Carnaval. A national time of celebration where people let loose. People spray each other with coloured foams and throw water balloons. I found myself getting off a boat from the border in the middle of the chaos. The dancing and unexpected splashes of water, made going outside the eternal adventure.

On a cloudy morning I left Coca. It had been raining for the last few days. The rains lasted all day long and made moving difficult. I had seen enough rain and left determined to get going. I had planned to meet my hosts with Free the Children in just a few days back up in the Andes. I had a ways to go with massive climbs on the horizon. With a quick breakfast of Encebollada soup, I was off riding under dark skies.

(To see a recipe for Encebollada, one of my favorite dishes on the trip, CLICK HERE)

After about thirty minutes the rains made their appearance. It was hot and humid, so I didn’t mind riding in the cool rain. I rode for most of the day and took breaks under various shelters when it all became too much. Stopping in the late afternoon, I pulled my bike off at a small town with a police station. I asked where a safe place might be and the captain led me to a room behind the building. It was full of dead cockroaches scattered about the floor. But, it would do. I swept up the cockroaches and cleaned the room up a bit. I pitched my tent on the floor out of the rain and did my best to dry my things for the following day. That night I cooked the same old pasta, talked with the police and slept soundly in my tent. A typical day on the road. Nightmare for some, normal now for me.

Off early the next day, I ate a breakfast of boiled eggs and bread. My hunger these days has turned to an insatiable quality that I cannot describe. I am never satisfied. Unless I cook for myself, I am never full. Packing insane portions away into nowhere. When I eat out at the local ‘comedors’ I am always hungry immediately after. Sometimes I walk a block and eat the same typical meal of rice, beans, salad and meat again. The eggs and bread were nothing more than something to start the engine.

Over the next few days, I made my way towards Rio Bamba. On the way I stopped in touristic Banos, where it poured rain for all but a few minutes. Waterfalls fell off in the distance in a fairytale like setting. However, it is not the type of place I feel very at home. It has all of the amenities of tourist adventure travel and leaves out the realities of Ecuador. The people on the mountains in the next valley over don’t see the tourist dollars or pizza dinners. Separations are well defined on the brink of a smoking volcano.

From Rio Bamba I headed south and continued along the according box of deep hills towards the Free the Children community of Shuid. Stopping along the road I watched a soccer (football) game while eating some fresh clementines. I devoured them by the dozen. Little balls of cycling energy. Wherever I stopped there was always a friendly person to chat with it seemed.

That afternoon I pulled into a town named Gaumote, after a fairly relaxed morning of riding. I only got rained on once and had just sped down a huge hill. Climbing up the cobbled streets of the town I found a Carnaval parade in full swing. People in traditional outfits were heading through the streets and dancing up a storm. Sometimes I get lucky. Showing up with no knowledge into a fully local experience. At the end an old man rode on a horse with a staff, seemingly to be the chief at the end of the parade. I grabbed some of the good food being cooked along the street and found a place to sleep for the night.

I had two days to go and only a short distance to make before Shuid. I took my time exploring the town the following day and made the trip down the road to Alausi. A beautiful town set in the valley of large mountains. Clouds rolled through the town at night. I ate food from local vendors and stocked up on supplies at the market. The boy at my guesthouse was really interested, as I did some minor repairs on my bike. He shouted every question at me as if I was deaf, when he found I didn’t understand his rapid fire questions. I laughed and continued with my work under his watchful stare.

I spent the day before heading to Shuid resting in the garden of a nice family in Guasuntos. A town nit far from Shuid. The man who owned the house had lived in the New York for many years and we got along well. He was very proud of his beautiful flowers in the garden. I spent my day resting and preparing for the climb the following morning. At night they locked the garden for safety. In the morning, I had to throw small rocks at the window while shouting to remind them I needed out. They were already awake, but had forgotten about me down below. I ate three bananas and a loaf of bread and was off up the mountain to Shuid. A winding road with beautiful views and steep passes took me further up into the Andes, for another amazing adventure.

For a look at my time in Shuid check out ‘https://oneadventureplease.com/2016/02/22/the-edge-of-the-mountain-charity-update-ecuador/‘ for the previous post on my experiences at the site with Free the Children. You can also CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

When it came time to head back down below, my hosts Ryan and Luis offered me a ride back to Rio Bamba. Seeing no need to ride the same road twice, I took their generosity and headed back on track towards my northern route home. That night I slept in the Free the Children office after meeting some more nice staff. I was off riding towards Quito where Ryan had made arrangements that I could stay in his apartment, even though he would be off with another Me to We group in the Amazon. Super kind!

Ecuador is a country which defends the right to life.” ~ Rafael Correa, President of Ecuador

I climbed some rather large hills as I made my way to Quito over the next two days. On the first day there was a roaring wind at my back. I had a huge day of riding. I felt full of life as I climbed onwards to another big city. Quito came into view early in the second day. I was trying to beat an impending rain that bubbled off in the distance. Quito itself is built on a fairly flat surface but anywhere outside the centre and your either flying down a hill or struggling up another through traffic. The road eventually narrowed and I put on my buff to eliminate some of the black diesel spewing from buses and ‘collectivo’ vans. One last curve remained as I found my way to the beautiful centre. Surrounded by homes on rolling mountain hills, Quito is one of the more brilliant cities I have had the pleasure to see. I even found a cycling lane downtown. Something I haven’t seen in forever. I navigated my way to Ryan’s place and recovered during the following day. I cooked up a storm, ate all day long and admired the view of the city.

Leaving Quito was a bit more simple as there was a long downhill most of the way out. I was heavily loaded up on food and got a broken spoke on the edge of town. It took the wind out of my sails as I just got going. The sun was scorching and I made my way over the next two days up and down some beautiful scenery. At one point the wind was so strong that I had to even pedal downhill. A truly defeating feeling to say the least.

While I was taking a break at a roadside junction I noticed a familiar image coming my way. It was the French cyclist Remy. This was now the fourth time we had met. We carried on together and chatted about our individual trips in the Amazon and Ecuador. He was feeling a bit sick at the time and was struggling with the wind. Late in the afternoon I got a flat tire. All of my tubes had four or five patches on them. I had seen the day before that there was a 85km climb coming up. We talked about this for a moment and decided to hitch a ride up the monstrous pass that loomed before us. Within minutes we were picked up and saved almost two days of horribly difficult riding.

The following day we woke early to make it to the Colombian border. My tire had gone flat in the night. I changed the tube and after a few minutes it was also flat as we began riding. I patched the other tube and was getting quite frustrated. I felt bad for Remy waiting. This time the patch held, but I desperately needed new tubes. Before this mess I hadn’t had a flat in weeks, so new tubes were not on my mind. They were all garbage and I looked forward to the first city in Colombia. With my tires rolling we entered Colombia and my 30th country on my round the world tour. I was excited about the next adventure ahead.

My mind and heart were ready to work together once again. Thanks for reading!

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*After my visit to the community of Shuid in Ecuador, I am even more thrilled with the opportunity to help with the fundraising for the new schoolhouse. I am looking forward to working with Free the Children to meet my goal. It is very important to me to help give the kids in Shuid the dream of a proper education and memorable childhood. Please CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**I am currently riding in Panama. After a long and wild journey along the Pacific coast on a series of boats, I have finally made it. Update on Colombia and the Pacific journey to come soon.

***I am now on the homestretch towards Canada. I expect to arrive in early June. With just a few months to go, it is hard to believe. If you would like to have me speak in your area about my journey cycling home from China, please contact me at markquattrocchi@hotmail.com or consult the ‘Speaking’ section of my website above for more information. Thank you for all of the support and encouragement!

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Adopt-A-Village, Ecuador

My Favourite Life Advice Video

The Edge of the Mountain: Charity Update Ecuador

An 11 Minute Readimage
Life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react to it.” ~ Dennis P. Kimbro, Author

I see the road where I am. I feel the power of the mountain pulling down towards our Earth. I hear the call of the birds and creaking of my wheels. I taste the morning dew and crisp lime in the food. I breath in a new day as if it was my last.

I ask questions because I do not know. I listen because it is more powerful than my speech. I wonder at all the small complexities that form the world. I think about how it is today and may be tomorrow. The past is gone and looking back should only be lessons. No longings or fated worries. In a world where no two days have ever been alike, we find ourselves at the point of the brush. It is up to us to give our lives colour. To feel the radiant Earth beneath our feet and give taste to the tasteless. To give shape where no shape was before. The power lies in us all. Hiding within different forms of clarity and vice.

We are makers of the future. We are players in the most dynamic drama to ever exist. We are not victims by circumstance, but have the power to change. The power to change our lives and those around us. To change lives for the better. To leave a small imprint that is timeless during our days. The history of our world is infinitely long and challenging to understand, when contemplating the sheer magnitude of existence. However, with careful thought we can squeeze out our own little story. Our own little drama. Players of the mind and creators of personal destiny. We are born to understand that meaning through the course of our days. Challenge, beauty, growth and all.
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Accept responsibility for your life. Know that it is you who will get you where you want to go, no one else.” ~ Les Brown, Author/Motivational Speaker

I arrived in Shuid, Ecuador late in the morning after a very steep 1,200 metre climb. Shuid is the village I am supporting to construct the fourth schoolhouse with Free the Children. The thirteen kilometres which brought me from the valley below to the village above, was one of those epic moments on the bike. The air slowly became thinner as I made my ascent in the early morning light. I removed the heavier layers of clothing as sweat began to peak on my back, face and chest. When stopping to take photos or catch my break, I would take in the scenery while the cool wind chilled my damp clothes.

I pushed onwards and upwards until I saw a sign that read, ‘Bienvenidos Comunidad de Shuid.’ Taking a photo of the sign, I felt extreme happiness for having made it here myself. I had been thinking about this moment for months. I wondered as I rode on aimless miles, how I would feel when I arrived. The mountain climb that would take me to my destination made me feel like there was actually a true goal for once. A destination with a purpose and message. I felt proud above all else.

Making my way to Shuid, the road forked upwards to the right, turning to loose gravel. I was not quite there yet. The views became more stunning as clouds built up steam and rolled over mountains in the distance. Grinding my way through a winding road with sheer drop offs, it reminded me of remote Bolivian roads not long behind. Shuid eventually came into view as I crested a corner. The mountain was dotted by little homes. I could see people walking their few cows along tiny paths. A radio echoed in the distance. I moved forward and entered the community.

I asked directions to the school from a timid lady and she pointed upwards. My climb was not over. I asked a second opinion and a man in a truck said the same thing. He on the other hand assured me I was close. I followed the road upwards as it got increasingly more steep. At two points I had to get off and push my bike. Even while pushing the loose gravel made it a tough task. Then I finally saw the cluster of buildings in the distance near a church. I hopped back on my bike and finished strong as I rolled up to the school.

When I arrived it was recess. Lucky me! There were many children running about playing games in the schoolyard. Kids being kids. It was an awesome sight to see. I found one of the teachers and we began talking about who I was and where I was from. He was very interested in my ride and gave me some porridge with crackers the kids were having for morning snack. I chugged it down happily, chatted a bit and returned to my bike, talking to kids as I went. When I got back to my bike, leaned against the fence on the side of the mountain, there was a group of kids busy dinging my bell. I made sure everyone had a chance to ding it at least twice. A few kids were even brave enough to try on my helmet. We all agreed my head was too big.

At that moment, my hosts Ryan and Luis arrived from Me to We. A group of High School students from New York also had made the journey with a facilitator named Carlos. It was amazing to see so many faces at once after days on the bike. As it turns out I had already met Ryan in Kenya briefly. While I was cycling through the rest of Africa and South America he had moved to Ecuador. It was nice to catch up with him and to see a familiar face for once. There are not too many of those on the open road.

(You can read about my experiences with Free the Children in Kenya by clicking https://oneadventureplease.com/2015/12/07/just-like-us-charity-update/ and in India at https://oneadventureplease.com/2015/08/19/from-distant-stars-charity-update/.

The alarm sounded for the kids to return to class and we did a tour of the school grounds. Set on the edge of the mountain the school is in the centre of the community. It is divided into upper and lower Shuid; with about 1000 people. If there are awards for picturesque locations for schools, this one would take the cake. Though it may be beautiful there, the people face many struggles on a daily basis. (See Shuid’s community profile below) Beautiful mountains do not put food on the table or children through school. My local guide Maria told me of the accomplishments and difficulties these people have seen recently. It was nice listening to her describe the community and see it in person for real.

Through positive encouragement families are beginning to understand the benefits of leaving their children in school. Many of the men do not work in the village itself, as there is very few jobs which would sustain a whole family. They travel to neighbouring towns to work and the women take care of the house along with the animals. This requires the children to grow up quite quickly and take on responsibilities they normally wouldn’t, in a place like Canada. With a typical family of eight children, there is a lot of pressure to leave school and begin working to help support the family.

Good actions give strength to ourselves and inspire good actions in others.” ~ Plato, Greek Philosopher

With the partnership of Free the Children, the village has begun to transform and overall enthusiasm has increased. It can be difficult, as most of the people still continue on with their traditional ways. But, through continued education of the whole village and the appearance of new physical structures, the morale has been boosted. In Ecuador, a Minga is called when something in the village needs to get done. It calls upon all able people to come help with a project on a certain day. At first in Shuid, people were somewhat reluctant to join and it was mostly children who showed up to help. However, now people are much more involved and take pride in their school on the mountain that is attended by over 300 children in two shifts each day.

In Shuid, older children go to school in the afternoon and young children in the morning. Currently, there is not enough room to accommodate them all at once. This is where we all come in. They are now digging the foundation of two new additional schoolhouses. One of the schoolhouses was the one I have been supporting with my ride. You can see photos of the current and future schoolhouses below. Most of the buildings have now been replaced in the main area of the school. They are expanding to give kids full day education with a growing population of enthusiastic learners. This will mean more teachers and a greater need for supplies.

One of the other projects on the go, was a nearly complete communal cafeteria for all the students. When I arrived that morning the children were all out in the schoolyard carrying around their hot cups of porridge. The cafeteria will be a comfortable place to eat and a sanitary place to cook the food as well. Looking in the busy classrooms and at the cafeteria, I could see that the transformation in process. The walls are coloured brightly and the children all looked sharp in their nice uniforms.

Change does not come overnight but involves hard work and dedication in all areas of development. Education is only one aspect of the challenge facing remote communities in struggling parts of the world. It is not about handouts. This does not solve the problem. It is the old story of the fisherman. If we teach children how to help themselves, they will forever hold the keys to success. It is about creating sustainable change. Change that lasts and is a beacon of hope. It is a chance. If I do nothing else but help give these children a proper childhood, that is enough.

In the afternoon, I joined the students from New York to help dig the foundation for the school I am fundraising for. It felt awesome to dig the holes where the foundation will soon be laid and a new building erected. The fact that it was the building I had been working towards was all the more special. However, the building does not belong to me, my sponsors or even Free the Children. It belongs to the people of Shuid and their community. It is their responsibility to ensure the upkeep and well-being of the building as well as their children. They are proud of these structures and the hope they symbolize for the future generations.

Before we all departed I was asked to do a short impromptu talk to the students from New York about my ride. They were an excellent audience as I discussed my motivations, my route and the difference we all can make. Earlier that day they had all helped dig the future school. Because of that they could see firsthand how important the school was to me as well as the people who lived in Shuid. They also had some excellent questions about my ride that I had never even thought of. Before they left Ryan discussed the topic of passion and what it means to all of us. We discussed the power of the individual and how all people can make a difference, in the way we talk, think and live.

Thinking is the best way to travel.~ The Moody Blues, The Best Way To Travel

As I meet people around the world and speak in front of future generations, I encourage them to follow their dreams. However, in a world where we are bombarded by Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and YouTube, finding our inner voice has become increasingly difficult. I realize not many people want to ride their bike around the world. But, with careful introspection and thought we all can find something we are truly passionate about. For me, I have found my passion it is education and experiencing our world on my own terms. This is not for everyone. This is what works for me. I cannot tell you what to do with your life. It is your job to find your bicycle ride.

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*Thank you everyone for supporting my ride to build schools with Free the Children. With over 200 donations from wonderful individuals, schools and organizations we are well on our way to reaching the goal for the school in Shuid. Powerful! Please CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**Questions to contemplate: What does passion mean to you? What are you passionate about? How can you change your community and world? What problems do we face as a modern society? How can we solve them on a collective and individual scale?

***Full details and photos on my ride through Ecuador will be coming soon. It is a beautiful country, full of kind people and mountainous scenery. I will take you from the low reaches of the Amazon back up into the Andes in next instalment. Currently, I am cycling in Colombia on route to the end of South America. Please continue to follow along and share!

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Me to We, Ecuador

An Inspiring Speech

The Size of Our Universe

 

The Value of Struggle: Biking Bolivia

An 18 Minute Readimage

In our modern society we have been conditioned to think that the quickest way is the best. People thrive on speed and ease. We expect information to come in seconds and feel empty even when we have access to more knowledge than ever. Conversations that used to last hours are ended in moments with a quick Google search. We believe in 7 day weight loss programs, a pill for every ill and that the world generally owes us something. We live in a world of I.

The value of struggle has been lost. We want something and we want it now. Get rich quick schemes are all the rage. My junk mail box proves that. People are hoping to get ahead and not have do anything for it. With the New Year upon us, it is a booming time for gym memberships and diet programs. Typically, people will forget about these resolutions in a month, when life gets busy again. It is not that we aren’t good enough to follow through with these goals, we just approach things the wrong way. People give up because they weren’t ready and someone else told them what to do. No one likes being told what to do or how to do it. Take every child someone told do something. You need to come up with your own path to the changes you think you need to make.

We forget that any of the great feats in our world were not accomplished in a day. They instead took time, careful planning and exponential amounts of energy. The invention of the light bulb, automobile and the development of Wayne Gretzky’s hockey skill did not come overnight. All of these things took a lot of dedication.

I understand we are all busy, tired and stressed by modern day pressures. However, there are some simple things you can do to feel better about yourself in the New Year. Start small and grow gradually until those positive aspects become cornerstones of your life. Get to the point where you don’t talk about the change anymore, but just do it. It becomes part of a better and new you.

Making a regular healthy dinner is not that difficult, nor is writing a letter to an old friend. These are just examples, that involve simple planning and execution. However, the rewards far exceed the effort necessary in return. If you pour yourself into something that truly means a lot to you, you will succeed. Make 2016 something you can be proud to remember.
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May the sun set on where my love dwells.” ~ Bolivian Proverb

Crossing the Paraguayan border into Bolivia was not exactly what you would expect. I had essentially been in cycling limbo for the last three days after checking out of Paraguay some 300km beforehand. I crossed the military checkpoint and finally was able to punch into Bolivia at an ‘immigration’ post called Ibibobo some 50km from the border. The border control was basically a shack with one man giving stamps and a lady to change money.

As I was leaving another cyclist from France named Laurent rolled in. A huge surprise given our locality. We decided to have a bit of lunch together and shared stories from the road. As I was leaving Laurent tried to get his exit stamp to the sight of the border control taking off with the money exchange lady on a motorbike. I found out later he had chased the man down in the nearby village and received his exit stamp.

I rode off very tired into a new country after ten straight days of riding through the Gran Chaco of Paraguay. Though I was very excited to see a hill for the first time since Asunción some 800km back. There were parts of the road which were full of loose gravel where I had to walk my bike for short stretches. I thought very little of it at the time. I was mainly focusing on making it to the first town, Villamontes. Not far down the road was a return to civilization and a well deserved rest day. What I didn’t realize that this was a small warning for things to come. An ominous look into the misery of the Bolivian road system ahead.

Arriving in Villamontes I promptly ate two dinners and fell into a deep sweaty sleep. This part of Bolivia is known to be the warmest in the country. The temperature in my room was 38 degrees and only a small fan on the wall to cool off. After the first night I pushed my bed to the other side of the room to be closer to the fan. It didn’t help much and I avoided the oven of my room as much as possible. Instead, I stuck to drinking awesome fruit juices and eating Salteñas in the market. Though a Salteña is similar to an empanada, it is decidedly much better in my opinion. Click on Salteñas to see a delicious and savory recipe.

From Villamontes I decided to begin my ascent to the altiplano of Bolivia where the weather would be cooler and less rainy. The total climb would be upwards of 4,000 meters higher than where I currently was. The ascent started almost immediately. I was followed by hoards of little biting flies and a scorching sun as I cycled up the dusty dirt road. Stopping in a roadside village, I was invited in for lunch at a school. The kids all laughed at me and I shared a bottle of local cola with one of the teachers. Pushing on in the heat was draining and slow but the views along the canyon I was riding up were fantastic.

Near the end of my day I heard a terrible sound coming from the back of my bike. I inspected and my cassette had come loose. I tightened it back on but it didn’t last long and I was stranded with no hope of moving. I hitched a ride to the next town where a mechanic and I with the proper tools ‘fixed’ the problem. About 45km into the following day towards my next destination, Tarija, the problem returned once again. When I tried to fix the problem the cassette opened up and ball bearings went all over the road. I was upset as I had just replaced this part in Paraguay, but was sold a very cheap piece of equipment. Because of this my continuous route of cycling from Buenos Aires was broken. I felt down as I waited on the side of the road for a ride to the city over the mountain pass. When you invest yourself in something like this and things don’t work out, it is sometimes hard to swallow.

A nice man, also named Mark, picked me up not long after. Luck would have it he knew a mechanic who could help me in Tarija. We found a new cassette in the bike market and returned to the nice mechanic who promptly put the heart back into my bike. He wouldn’t take payment when I offered. I thanked him a dozen times and went off to my new friend’s pizza restaurant. His restaurant was inspired by his travels overseas and we shared a bottle of Orange Fanta while I admired the decor. I found a restful hostel called CASA BLANCA and got my mind back in order.

It’s easy for people in an air-conditioned room to continue with policies of destruction of Mother Earth. We need instead to put ourselves in the shoes of families in Bolivia and worldwide that lack water and food and suffer misery and hunger.” ~ Evo Morales, Bolivian President

There was a very long and steep climb out of Tarija as I made my way towards Tupiza. By the time night rolled around a nasty storm was upon me and a little old lady invited me to sleep in her house. She cleared a room for me in what was most certainly one of the poorest families I had stayed with in a while. There was a knock later at my door and the lady had a nice looking soup in hand. I ate it quietly feeling humble as ever on my chair missing the back.

Talking to locals back in town, I was told that the road I had chosen was very difficult and I was decidedly crazy. If it was crazy and terrible that also meant it would be beautiful. I was certainly right about the beautiful part. But the locals were also right about it being terrible. It was one of the hardest roads I have ever traversed with rutted dirt tracks to the top of mountains and a howling wind. Once in a while tarmac would appear out of nowhere and I would coast like a giant along empty smooth roads. I have amazing memories of larger than life views with clouds crawling over the sides of mountain ridges. In a small town one night I had nowhere to sleep until a nice guy named Osman welcomed me to his house. He was still working, but let me into his place all the same. When he returned we watched a new Arnold Schwarzenegger movie and I fell asleep.

In the morning Osman and I had some chicken soup together before I descended down my own ‘Road of Death.” Thousand foot drop offs with zero railings and crumbling loose gravel on the edges of the road. Every once in a while a bus would come roaring around a blind corner and shower me with dust. I usually stopped on some firm ground and waited for it to pass if I heard something coming. Though it was some white knuckle riding, it was completely worth the effort. The ride to Tupiza was stunning and the struggle for beauty was the reason I chose to come this way through Bolivia.

Arriving in the canyon town of Tupiza, I found a delicious lunch after days of cooking bland pasta. I then found a cold shower and scrubbed the dirt from my life. After exploring the markets of Tupiza I planned what can only be described as a hair brain venture down the wrong road. I was headed towards the largest Salt Flat in the world near Uyuni. Everyone I asked told me the road directly to Uyuni was the worst in Bolivia and I should take the route twice as long that was paved. I was here for adventure and I chose the exactly what you would expect. I chose struggle and misery, mixed with dashes of solitary beauty.

If ever there was a road I am happy to have left behind it was this one. It began with sandy riding through spectacular canyons. Supposedly where Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid met their end. I pictured olden days of people struggling through these passages with ox carts as I rode. Lightning struck off in the distance and set the scene for an end of days western shootout.

Bolivians die with rotted lungs so that the world may consume cheap tin.” ~ Eduardo Galeano, Writer

Eventually, I made my way up to Atocha. It was one of the most interesting settings for a town I have ever seen. Set into the edge of mountain it lay at the side of an extinct river and a sleepy railway. As an old mining town it seemed that everything here had seen better days. There is a long history of exploitation in Bolivia and the use of their people to mine plentiful natural resources by developed countries at low cost. Nevertheless, I was welcomed by friendly curious locals into their town. I couldn’t afford the nicer hotel in town and was shown to the second cheapest room of my entire trip, at the equivalent of $2. The bed smelled like spit and the odor of the communal toilet wafted into my room through the cardboard window in my 4×4 square. I slept in my sleeping bag, with my cycling buff over my face and didn’t dare touch the stained sheets. I escaped the room as soon as possible in the morning and gagged one more time as I headed back in to grab my bags.

The following two days to Uyuni saw some spectacular but difficult riding through amazing rocky landscape. I followed a volcanically poisoned river and passed along high canyon walls. Later I bumped past as Llamas grazed on the sides of the road. I huffed up steep hills into a strong wind as the corrugated road bounced me to pieces. Sometimes the road wasn’t much more than a drift of sand and gravel. In spots roadwork was in progress, but at the rate they seem to be going it will be done in ten years. Eventually the dusty tourist jump off point of Uyuni emerged and I tumbled into reality like a space monster. Tourists laughed in the streets as they headed off on their tours with blinders on. I could see them through windows in English looking pubs eating pizza at outrageous prices while they drank cold Corona beers. It all seemed extremely odd to me after where I just came from. I ate my regular local meal of chicken with rice and hid away from it all in my room after a fruitless search for a new bungee cord for my bike.

At this point I was far more consumed by the adventure ahead. The largest salt flat waited for me in the morning. I was truly excited. It serves for most cyclists in South America as the quintessential cycling experience. As I approached the entrance to Uyuni the following day I heard a loud snap and a broken spoke. Terrible timing with Uyuni some 15km behind. I rolled into the town on the edge of the Salar and found a truck mechanic. We used his tools to take off my new cassette and my ball bearings exploded all over the sand. With his kids we picked up all of the little pieces and put the thing back together. A ten minute job turned into two hours. (I have now purchased all the tools to do this myself) When I finally entered the Salar de Uyuni, the wind was already roaring, not in my favor. I met four cyclists around one of the hotels made of salt. They were being carried by the wind without even pedaling. I’ve never been so jealous.

I pushed onwards into one of the most naturally stunning landscapes on the planet. A completely flat and a magically disorientating experience to cycle. At first the Salar was truly fun. I took lots of silly photos as I headed to an island called Incahuasi in the middle of the Salar to camp. However, after seeing the island in the far off distance for more than half the day it seemed to come no closer. I kept thinking it must just be a few more kilometers ahead. But it never materialized. The sun was getting low and I stopped in the howling madness to snap some photos. At this point the wind was stronger than ever and I was exhausted. I resorted to pushing my bike towards the outline of the looming island. My mind was playing tricks on me and I imagined nightmarish creatures following me. To be honest I whimpered a bit and felt delirious from the sun and wind. By the time I arrived it was after 9:30pm and had been dark for hours. I found the tourist centre and pitched my tent with my last ounce of energy. I ate some cookies in my tent and passed out.

I was awoken early by the arrival of hoards of tourists to the island. Less than impressed, I packed up and ate some bread as people snapped photos of me where I gave a begrudging thumbs up. The nice ticket man let me go up the island and take a photo for free and gave me a bottle full of tea. He said he saw me arrive late the night before and I think he was worried about me. I felt exhausted beyond all belief, but knew I couldn’t stay where I was. I headed for land and the volcano in the distance.

After a few kilometers of riding I couldn’t do it anymore. I felt awful and threw up a number of times from exhaustion. I positioned my bike in front of the sun and lay in the shade under my bike and had a nap. When I woke up the sun was beating down on me, but I felt much better. I got back on my bike and slowly made it to land where I found some nice tourists that shared their dinner with me.

From the volcano Tunupu, I carried along a very beautiful and sandy road towards Salinas de Garcia Mendoza feeling much better. In this part of the world water is very precious and it was many days before I was able to get a shower. As I turned to rejoin the main road towards La Paz, I met a cyclist from Mexico who told me just three kilometers down the road it turned to asphalt. I have never been so happy. From that point on the hills were less strenuous on a fully paved road all the way to La Paz. Along the road I watched deer grazing in the distance while dust tornados whipped up around them. I flew past Llamas and Alpacas as I rode with speed on the finished road.

Approaching La Paz I was on my last bit of steam and in need of a break. When I came around a bend in the road and saw La Paz in the valley below from El Alto, I was speechless. I had never seen anything quite like it. I felt insanely small as I pictured myself down in the mass of buildings that seemed like little toy pieces from above. As I weaved my way down into La Paz I felt like an airplane coming in for a landing. I landed in the famous Casa de Ciclista where I recharged my batteries and met some nice people before heading to the border of Peru and onto the next adventure.

It was a month long journey through Bolivia with extreme highs and some serious lows. Coming through on the other side I can certainly say that it was a challenge worth the time and effort. It is one of the most raw and beautiful countries I have ever been to. Biking here definitely has all of the rewards you can imagine. Getting away from the main roads is where the adventure happens and the light of the world sparks the engine for adventure inside your heart. Maybe it was the adrenaline of sheer cliffs or the pressure of thin air, but I look back with extreme fondness on my days in Bolivia. Here you can learn the true value of struggle.

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*We are now at 195 donors and over 1/3 of the way to the schoolhouse in Shuid, Ecuador. Pretty awesome stuff! If you hung on and read this far, I am proud of you. I also like to honour the type of lessons I preach. Therefore, I will be sending every donor up to #200 a personal handwritten thank you letter in the mail. Your name will also appear in the next post. If you are lucky you may receive a letter from the Amazon as I head north. I know most people don’t collect stamps anymore, but I think that would be really cool location to get a letter from. But, that’s just me. Thank you for all of your support! CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**At the moment I am riding in Peru, where the views are larger than life and the mountain climbs are monstrous. I spend most of my days huffing up massive hills as I head north and will eventually find my way down to the Amazon Basin. Here the road itself ends and I begin my great Amazon adventure towards Ecuador. Thanks for reading and stay tuned.

*** Below is a nicely written message from my walking friend, David, which I received around New Year. It is hard to stay in touch with everyone I have met along the way, but this is one chap I am always happy to hear from. Walking to India at A TASTE OF ANCIENT ROUTES.

“You are doing the ultimate and every day brings you closer to your final goal. This is for you my friend, when I think about your journey:

It can be tough, it can be a breeze;
some days are filled with hardship,
others gust with ease.
The people wave,
And smile and frown,
You pass them by,
Heading out of town.

The bed is hard,
the ground is your home,
Even if you feel it,
You’re ever alone;
Thoughts move in your brain
As you leave the road behind you,
Again, and again, and again.

But never stop feeling,
The beating heart of your soul;
For even in the darkest days,
It keeps you going,
And will bring you home.”
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Mind Games: Cycling Paraguay & The Gran Chaco

A 16 Minute Readimage

“Paraguay is an island surrounded on all sides by land.” ~ Augusto Roa Bastos, Novelist

The idea of success and perseverance to a goal is only as difficult as our mind will allow. There is only one obstacle between us and our goals. The mind. This is what prevents us from making the best decisions for ourselves, finishing or starting that project and following our dreams. When I sat down to write this post, my mind wouldn’t let me continue. It said you have no good ideas, there are other things to worry about and no one really cares. I was in a bad mindset. There was only cannot and excuses. I gave up for days and the page lay blank. It’s not that I didn’t think I had a good story to tell, it was the inner slob pouring out. I was not in a mindset to feel the inspiration I needed.

However, it’s all in your head. You are only going to be successful at what you do, if you allow your mind to break free. Dreams, abilities, strengths and weakness are all linked to our internal perceptions of ourselves. One moment we could feel like we can conquer the world and the next we have trouble getting out of bed. Sometimes laying there I feel like this. I think that home is so far away. There wont be anything interesting to see today. I convince myself I feel tired, hungry and thirsty. These are all just excuses of the mind. When you get out there and start taking action, things begin to fall into place. The same goes for this post. The same goes for setting new goals for ourselves. The same goes for getting out of my warm sleeping bag and putting another day in on the bicycle. Ignoring the distractions our minds create for us and getting on with things is one of the most important tools for achieving new boundaries of personal potential. Without a clear mind on your side, you are lost.
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“Gratitude is the least of virtues; ingratitude is the worst of vices.” ~ Paraguayan Proverb

I entered Paraguay via a ten minute ferry ride across Rio Iguazu from Argentina. I thought this would save time and a huge hassle at the renowned tri Argentina, Brazil & Paraguay crossing. All three countries meet at this point near Iguazu Falls. I found the ferry and immigration post easily enough, but was wrong about the time saver part. Not to bore you with Visa legality problems, but I will say I have an undeserving 600 Peso mark against me should I ever return to Argentina. There is also a border guard I am less than fond of now. In some places corruption prevails and no amount of truth will save you.

It was not the best way to leave Argentina, but soon all was forgotten and I was off riding in Paraguay. I sorted out some new country business and took the day to see the largest hydroelectric dam in the world. It was pretty impressive to say the least. Paraguay is not known for their sights. They have almost no mountains, it is terribly hot, landlocked and extremely flat in most areas. It is skipped over by most travelers and who cannot even say why they didn’t go. However, this was the country I had been dying to see since I arrived in South America. Some may wonder why I was so excited, but it was the sheer fact that I knew nothing that interested me the most. Very few tourists visit here and I was thrilled at the opportunity to cycle from one end of the country to the other.

At first when I got rolling the road had a similar feeling to the one behind me. Hill after hill in extreme humidity. Stopping every few minutes to wipe my face and stare at another impending hill. I took lots of breaks on my three day ride to the capital of Asunción. The people were very friendly and I was already happy with my choice to come. I often dove into air conditioned gas stations beat red to cool off and snacked on empanadas. Learn about and see delicious empanadas receipes HERE.

On my final day into the capital I had to push myself very hard. I was exhausted entering the city with buses spewing black smoke and stopping all over the road. It was very typical of entering many capital cities on my trip, but I was almost out of steam. In Paraguay they drink mate, the same as Brazilians and Uruguayans, but instead of hot they drink it ice cold. Smart if you ask me. Many people carry around jugs of ice water to go with their stimulating mate. One man likely seeing I was struggling up another hill, stopped his car and filled my water bottle with some of his ice cold water. It was exactly what I needed to get me through the final push to my hosts house in downtown Asunción.

When I arrived at Silvia’s house I was greeted by her amazing mother, who instantly began to feed me delicious foods. For the next few days I got caught up on my things, ate up to my ears, explored Asunción and shared stories with my gracious host. I also did a presentation on my ride at Canadian School and met another Quattrocchi. This was quite possibly the most extended and random of chance encounters on my trip, but one of the most interesting. Not everyday you meet someone with the same last name as you in Paraguay. I certainly had never met anyone with an uncommon name such a mine that I wasn’t related to. I ate a pile of cheesy fries and we shared stories about our lives and family histories out of Sicily.

Saying goodbye to a nice host, comfortable bed and security is never easy. However, setting out into the infamous Gran Chaco of Paraguay was even more difficult. It didn’t help that every person told me I was crazy. I had 850km of completely flat, semi-arid and mostly empty landscape ahead of me to the first town in Bolivia. Taking a photo goodbye I felt that same old tough feeling which is hard to describe. A sense of adventure welled up in me for the next stage, as did a longing for some normalcy in my life. Something predictable to hold onto is always a sneaking white rabbit for the long distance cyclist.

“Paraguay is a well-kept secret of South America; and its music is a passport to international recognition.” ~ Berta Rojas, Paraguayan Classical Guitarist

(Click below to listen to some of Berta Rojas beautiful classical guitar)

Setting out into the ‘Green Hell’ of the Chaco, as it has been dubbed by some, I quickly discovered it was very green but not as hellish as I thought it would be. The road was completely flat. I have been promised flat roads countless times on my journey, but they were all lies. This was the first time it was completely true. After the road behind, no amount of isolation could dampen my spirits.

On my first night into the Chaco I was looking for a place to camp. However, the sides of the road were all full of very tall grass or marshy land. The houses had disappeared and were taken over by massive cattle ranches that stretched way back into the distance. I could see disinterested cows grazing in between the palm trees to keep shade. It was very hot and I was ready to be off the road. Seeing an inviting looking ranch sign and a bench I pull off the road. I saw a man walking around a very long driveway back to the ranch and decided I’d ask to camp. I waved at him and after a moment he noticed me and began to approach. It took him about 5 minutes to get closer to me as I didn’t want to trespass before given permission so I remained there smiling. As the man got closer I realized he wasn’t carrying a stick, but a large shotgun. He had a bulletproof vest on and looked hardened. At this point returning to my bike and pedaling away would have been a poor choice and I knew at once the answer to my camping request would be a big fat no. I asked anyways and got the answer I was hoping for. No.

I bid a smiling farewell as he pointed down the road and claimed there was another place to camp. I tried not to look back as I rode, but he watched me until I was way out of sight. Whomever owned that ranch clearly did not want to be disturbed. I shrugged off my first failed attempt at camping and the next ranch welcomed me with open arms. I set up camp and fell into deep sleep until the rooster crowed the following morning. I awoke to a hoard of ants in my tent and danced like a crazy to shake them off me and out of my tent.

My days over the next week took a similar form as I plied across the flattest road to ever exist. Ride all day until a small village or gas station presented itself, stock up on supplies, mentally regroup and head back out into the green flat yonder. On one night one of the worst storms I have seen since Ethiopia descended upon me. It poured rain all night, blew my tent to pieces and I had a fitfully nightmarish sleep. Dreams of being swept away filled my moments of unconsciousness and my tent filled up with water. In the morning outside looked like a typhoon had hit and I was a personal disaster. I packed up my sopping wet things and set off to just get moving. My eyes kept closing on the road which had not seen a turn in a few days. The Chaco was now living up to the reputation I had heard of. However, the birdlife and butterflies were stunning. At times I found myself riding in nothing but butterflies. I felt like I was in some obscure Disney movie and the bottle trees looked like they were out of a Dr. Seuss book. I kept thinking of my favourite children’s book, ‘Oh, The Place You’ll Go’ and tried to remember the words as I rode. Back teaching Kindergarten in Sanya I used to read the book to my kids every few weeks, simply because I loved it so much.

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…” ~ Dr. Seuss, Writer

Just when I thought that I was riding my bike into the back end of nowhere, civilization began to emerge. Shops with more than just stale crackers or aging empanadas emerged. I was entering which can only be described as a civilization within a country. The Mennonite towns began. Back in the 1930’s Mennonites avoiding persecution came to Paraguay from Russia, Germany and Canada. They came with the promise of religious freedom and to colonize Paraguay’s empty western frontier. To read more about the successes, struggles and history of the Paraguayan Mennonites CLICK HERE.

I rolled into the Mennonite capital of Filadelfia and found an organized society. Roads were on a grid system, the co-op was bursting with good food and everything seemed to run smoothly in the dusty town. Out of nothing these people had built their own society with functioning banks, a post office, nice hotels and a museum. I decided to take a peek at the museum for curiosity sake. I was given a full tour of three sections of the museum and a colonial house from a nice lady. The motto of the town was printed on one of the the walls as “The common good before personal interest.” When the lady asked me where I was staying that night, I told her I would camp somewhere outside town. She insisted I stay and sleep in an empty nearby classroom instead. Always one for strange vagabond sleep locations, I was thrilled. A nice man named Norbert was the grounds keeper and gave me Wi-Fi. He was sleeping in a dormitory next to the classroom and we made some jokes about being neighbors. “Keep it down in there!”, I banged on the wall. He was a lighthearted man. Before going to sleep I scratched ONE ADVENTURE PLEASE on the chalkboard, while a nighttime driving school class took place next door. I could smell my shoes in the corner of the room as I drifted into sleep.

I said a slow goodbye to the nice people in the morning and set out on the last few hundred kilometres to Bolivia. After a days ride I encountered the number one worst section of road on my trip. Straight well maintained road degraded into the most bumpy, patchy and completely destroyed piece of road I have ever seen. There are no nice words for this stretch of road which was once flat tarmac. I am told that it was only good for the inauguration and deteriorated soon after with all money scooped off in corruption to build a mirage. When inquiring about the state of the road one man just said, “Ask the President.”

I bumped through a terribly physical and emotionally crushing day. At some points I entered pot holes that were as tall as my bike as the only traffic, heavy oil trucks from Bolivia, carved deeper holes to find a path through the madness. At one point I was cycling just in front of one of these tanker trucks for over an hour. We were traveling the same speed forever, until he hit a flatter stretch and showered me in dust. In the heat and rocking of the road my mind began to play tricks on me. I hadn’t seen any life for hours and began to imagine a Jaguar prowling the Chaco was stalking me. In the corner of my eye I saw something move and I jerked to life in fright. My bike flipped sideways and crashed across the rough road. My leg was cut and bleeding. I looked behind to see the supposed Jaguar was nothing but a rogue cow. I laughed to myself and felt so ridiculous. Back to reality I came and pressed on until the pavement reappeared.

That night I camped out on the edge of a police booth and patched up my leg. I found some old looking empanadas and ate seven while looking like a zombie on a plastic chair as I lethargically swatted at hundreds of mosquitoes. During my dinner a tapir came out of the bushes and tried to take my dinner. With its’ weird nose and huge body it lumbered after me. Even though it was my first time to ever see this strange animal, I was not amused. The locals then joked I was eating tapir empanadas. I laughed politely, didn’t really care and escaped to my tent. I had one more day left of riding to reach Bolivia and I was worn out. Two more days to reach the first town on the Bolivian side. I told myself I could do it. My nose was burnt bright red and my energy levels were low. I was tired of the same old pasta and it was a mental drain each day to push forward.

My last day was a push to the border. I felt slightly sick and was tired of the slog on straight roads. After a few hours I had barely seen any traffic until three strange images emerged from the flat yonder as some touring cyclists. We chatted for over an hour and shared some cookies. It was exactly what I needed to make it to the border. When I arrived all of the border security were taking a day off, as it was Sunday, to play the most obscure game of volleyball I have ever witnessed. No hands were allowed. It was amazing to watch. There is no actual immigration here, it is more of a military post than anything. I had stamped out of Paraguay about 3 days before in Mariscal as protocol dictated. I had effectively not been in any country officially for the last little while. The one guard asked me if I wanted to join them and before I knew it he showed me to a nice cold shower, while the guards barbecued a delicious dinner. A nice end to a wonderfully difficult adventure I thought to myself as I went to sleep on a mattress laid out for me.

The Gran Chaco will stand as one of the greatest mental challenges of this trip. Though the road may have been completely flat, it is not for the unprepared or beginner. The Chaco will test every inch of your resolve and spit you out if you’re not careful. All of that being said, Paraguay stands as one of my favourite countries on the journey. It was the challenge I needed to refocus my future goals. I have many wonderful stories of the people along the way that I cannot fully share here now. The Chaco rejuvenated my love for the wild and seldom explored reaches of our planet. It made me remember why I started this journey in the first place. It made me feel that life pumping energy you get from exploring the new and unknown. It made me think about all that I hold dear in my life and thankful for the strength of mind to persevere. All of this has changed me into someone that is more adaptive than I ever thought possible.

As I pedaled on into Bolivia I thought, ‘Oh, the places you’ll go…’

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*We are off to an awesome start with the fundraising towards the new schoolhouse in Shuid, Ecuador. In only a few short weeks we have already raised over 1/4 of the money to build the new schoolhouse. Beautiful work! A big thank you goes out to St. Joseph’s School in Toledo as well as J.L. Jordan for all of their hard fundraising. Seeing kids helping kids is one of the most rewarding parts of this experience. I would also like to thank close family and friends for getting the ball rolling as well. You are all wonderful people! Please CLICK HERE TO DONATE

**I would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Last year I celebrated in India and a year later I am riding in Peru near the highest alpine lake in the world, Lake Titicaca. It is amazing where the world can take you. I am thankful for more things than I can count this holiday season. Updates on the beauty, struggle and challenge of Bolivia to come soon. Thank you for continuing to follow along!

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