'Round the World with an Italian Supermodel

Though I'd checked the weather at least once in the days preceding, I don't think I checked the weather at the proper elevation, cause it got cold.



More to come tomorrow:

Whoever said isolation is the sum total of wretchedness to a man must have been bad company to himself. I've said that environments can lead to the development of mental states, that certain parts of this planet--whether it be in the attic of a century-old building overlooking the Seine on a Friday night in Paris or a grain mill in the center of a biblical hailstorm in South Dakota--form precise, specialized mental chambers we can retreat to at any point for the remainder of our lives. But this part of Norway, of the world, to me, was the reverse. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it....sometimes the world embeds shapes of itself into our memories, experience, consciousness, impressing into us something that never existed before. Encounters and interactions with people and places change us, develop us, augment our lives. But sometimes, rarely, there's a shape or form, an innate feeling already inside us--a capacity, perhaps you could call it--that has never found its expression anywhere externally. And then, when you least expect it, you find yourself in a place that fits with that internal state, a location that's aligned with something intrinsic to your personality. This part of the world, Norway, was that kind of epiphany for me. So much so that I hesitate to share it at all. Perhaps it was the isolation, the solitude, the feeling of remoteness that I so often desire while in the presence of people and in society in general, I'm not sure, exactly. But I felt I belonged there.







On second thought, it might have been that the conditions were comfortably unwelcoming that made me feel so at home.



I persisted.



It got colder.



And colder.





I didn't want to be anywhere else. Completely otherworldly.



Melted snow that ran across the roads in the sun turned to frozen streams as blizzard-like clouds engulfed the mountain. I tried keeping the bike upright as possible around turns, but things got pretty wiggly. Icy snow blew across the road like I'd never seen before. It was absolutely unforgettably beautiful, but god damn it was not safe. I was getting close to where I was supposed to be for the night (an old schoolhouse), but my phone was dead. Camera, too. Other camera: same. Video camera: also dead. Everything was ....... frozen! I heated my phone under my exhaust long enough to pull up GPS and take a screenshot. But it literally took only seconds before the electrons called it quits again.



I tried to motor on (I was so close!), but my tires had the grip of marbles on oiled glass. I pushed as far as I could, but it finally donned on me that I was being a stupid idiot for even trying. Soon there'd be a slide I wouldn't be able to save and I chose turning back vs. great bodily harm. But I wasn't happy. Turning around was no doubt the only choice, but it didn't make it any less depressing.

Great Pics as always...

Dennis have you ever read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"?

BROsiah said:

Dennis have you ever read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"?

Click to expand...

First book I read my senior year in high school!

I had hit the limit in Norway. I could neither go further or norther. I disappointingly didn't even get a shot of the worst of it all. 10 min. after turning around I was able to find a nice spot to warm my phone under my exhaust until it turned back on. But still, after only a few pictures, it'd brick itself again.







I headed south and east filled with the kind of regret that comes from reaching a destination. This, and all of my other trips, have been fueled by a struggle to break free, to wander and roam and explore without end in sight, but there always comes a point when the inevitable is realized and acceptance that even freedom has its limits. Despite the fact I still had many countries to ride through, I knew from here on out I was heading through them and not 'to' them. From here on out, I was heading home.

I was overwhelmed. An intense depression hits at moments like this. I pulled over and parked my bike. Perhaps it was an accident, or perhaps it was subconscious, but she was pointed in the direction opposite the one I was going.



I sat on a rock overlooking the river lost in my own thoughts that I'll keep private. I'll only say that I came to no conclusions, had no epiphanies. Life is always a struggle, nothing is ever certain, but to be alive--even if for no other reason than to mezmerizingly witness the harmony of life unbound.



I wandered back up to my bike and felt a wave of affection for my dear companion. She'd taken me this far without complaint. Perhaps I was feeling a little overly sentimental, but I realized that my love for this bike went far beyond it's capabilities. Affection for something-human, animal or mechanical-is typically fueled by things of 'it': appearance, personality, abilities, etc. Initial attraction is entirely dependent upon impressive characteristics. But at some point the intoxication grows deeper and the object of affection could lose all of what seduced you to begin with, without diminishing love in the least. And when you've been through so much with any thing, living or not, it takes on a special significance unlike any other connection formed. More than any other emotion, I was overwhelmed with gratefulness. Strange. Like all the times before, I heaved on my backpack, snapped in my tank bag, flipped the key, stabbed the starter and headed off to find us food and shelter for the night.

You should make this into a huge Magazine Big Book.. Love reading the stories dude and the pics are awesome..

Such a fascinating story. Can't wait for the next one. And someone should put this into an article or documentary

And out of curiosity how many miles you got on your pani?

Thanks, guys. In 2012, just a few months into my first trip on the 1199, I had a conversation with two people who'd given up lucrative careers in Chicago to live out their dreams on a farm in Iowa (........I think it was Iowa). Fireflies were flickering above cornfields, wine was flowing and the conversation turned to a singular idea: that the world is only made a better place when people do what they love. Seems so simple, but unfortunately doing what you love requires doing things you don't. With only a month or so to go I have to accept that financial sustainability just isn't even remotely close to being part of the program. I'm honored to have been in a position to do what few people can--or are willing to--do, look forward to rounding off this journey with a few more countries, and eagerly await the next time I can break away and do something reckless, stupid and memory-laden. For now, enjoy the final chapter(s), the way I've experienced my trip: as if it would never end.

AG6: I'll have to check the odometer next time I start 'er up.

After giving up on rolling the dice trying to survive Hoth, I turned back and found a semi-affordable hotel with a most excellent parking spot:



I was absolutely crushed the next morning, though. Just did not want to move at all. Decided to stay another night so I could go out and explore without having to carry an extra 55lbs of gear. It was a good decision for all of us, I think:

That scenery is beautiful. Arent you glad you stayed another day...

b9009b: Definitely. Wasn't like I wanted to be leaving....if I could, I'd have stayed in Norway for months.

A little more Norwegian eye candy:












Now, I'd been taking it pretty easy in Norway, Sweden and Denmark. It was easy to not exceed the speed limit because there was always something to look at (probably more dangerous than speeding, but it's legal to stare). The various threats of po-po basically seizing all your assets while you're locked away in prison cells designed by Ikea kept me restrained. But there was only so much I could take. Out on this desolate road I just played. Wheelies, stoppies, flat-out acceleration runs from all speeds. No one--and I mean no one--was around. Had a blast. The hooligan excitement did me good.

Norway. Just so damned gorgeous. I was grateful that no locals (or tourists) were anywhere near me. Lots of 'end of the world' moments roaming the country. Solitude is where you truly find yourself and I had it in abundance.

















I should have learned my lesson from those first pics. That ground is as soft and mushy as velvet covered pudding. Front tire dug once and--for the first time ever--I was stuck. Took only a few minutes of rocking to get it out, no big deal....but getting up this seemingly innocuous hill was far more challenging. I must have hit it 7 or 8 times before I finally made it out. Tricky tricky!









The only thing this picture lacks is a cape blowing off the shoulders of my Panigale.

Antihero, all I can say is I'm envious of you. Your adventure is one of legendary proportions!!!!! Keep posting those beautiful pictures! Be safe in your travels.

The most compelling part of all my travels has been the expansion of possibilities: we can all find our place in the world, but when you forcibly change your world you can find many new places for yourself in it. Not knowing how a story will end keeps the plot compelling. Affairs of the heart, games, films, stories, life--interest in all these are easily ruined when the outcome of the affairs is glimpsed, known, verified. Not knowing, potentials, randomness--these are the true joys of life, these are the conditions that have the potential to truly change the course of your existence forever. How will I deal with uncertainty not being the prime characteristic of my life?

I will just have to wait and see. For now, Norway at almost midnight on my last night there.

^ I understand what you mean.

At the time I felt terrible enough to make me consider exiting Norway the same way I rode in. I can't properly emphasize how physically weak I was without sounding like a candy-ass, so I'll instead say, "man oh man I could not ....... wait to get to Estonia!"



Though the entire journey is ~1200km/25 hours, a lot of that time is spent in the Baltic on a ship. So I motored on, hoping that I'd make it in time to depart on time while still being able to enjoy the scenery.





Though the rest of the world seems to enjoy sausages and hot dogs with a fervor few Americans understand, the sheer quantity of sodium nitrate they consume would seem so suggest the correlation between heart disease, cancer, obesity and tasty meat might be exaggerated here in the states.

AH: u r truly nuts, tho in the best way possible... & as i suspect we both know, self-induced suffering in itz various forms & expressions does yield certain randomized perspectives and responses.... breaking loops, but what tracks r replacing 'em ¿ ¿ ¿

hope your health is holding up......

Much obliged, VAST. I'm doing great now....not really sure how I made it out of Norway alive, but I did. ......' crazy ..... Onward to Sweden (again).



And a little beyond.









It was a sloppy wet kiss of a farewell.