This leg is dedicated to the memory of my friend Claudio Cestaro
Day 1 – Arrival in Guayaquil
Coming back… but different”
I arrived in Guayaquil with heavy bags… but not just clothes. I was carrying the Africa Twin’s cases. The bike had flown in the day before. The Norden… well… that was history. On its way to Miami.
This leg started differently. Straight from the airport, I headed to Customs. Round one. And as expected… nothing was going to be simple. Papers, windows, signatures, systems that don’t work, people who “aren’t available”, emails that “never arrived”… the full Latin American combo.
But there was one thing in my favor: it was Monday. I had the whole week to fight for it.
I got things moving — or so I thought — and made a decision I’d been putting off for years. I rented a car… and drove to Montañita.
I’d had that place in my head since I first planned this trip back in 2007. It was a mandatory stop. And also a promise… To Claudio.
I never got to do it with him… but in that moment, on this leg, I felt him more present than ever. Not as a memory… but as company. As if I wasn’t doing this stretch alone. As if, somehow, he was on the bike too.
Days 2 & 3 – Montañita
“Presence”
Montañita doesn’t disappoint. It’s one of those places where time downshifts two gears without asking. Sand, surf, humid heat, background music, and that vibe that’s half hippie, half party… but genuine.
I stayed in a rustic little hotel, facing the sea. The constant sound of the waves, the wind through the palms, salt in the air. Days of hammocks, silence, and thinking. But above all… feeling.
Claudio was there. In every moment. In every pause. In every decision that had brought me to this journey.
In those long hours staring at the sea, I understood something: the journey isn’t always about moving forward… sometimes it’s about stopping so you can keep going.
It wasn’t tourism. It was pause. It was connection. It was gratitude.
Days 4 & 5 – Guayaquil
“Welcome to the system”
I went back to Guayaquil ready to finish the paperwork. Spoiler: nope.
Nothing is easy. Nothing is fast. And it can always get more complicated.
Problem 1: the Norden was still listed as active in Ecuador → another bike couldn’t enter. Problem 2: systems that don’t respond. Problem 3: emails that “never arrived”. Problem 4: patience… at its limit.
Two full days running from office to office, explaining the unexplainable. In and out of buildings, repeating the story, waiting for answers that never come.
But through all of it, something kept me grounded. The feeling that I had to keep going.
Until finally… Friday, 7 PM. They release the bike. At night.
Right there at the warehouse door, the show began: wooden crate, tools, bolts… I pulled out the drill I’d brought along (yes, full obsession mode), and assembled everything piece by piece.
I’d left it with battery, oil, and some fuel. I turned the key… and it started.
That moment… is non-negotiable. It wasn’t just a motorcycle starting. It was the journey coming back to life.
I rode straight to the hotel. Mission accomplished (for now).
That night, to wind down a bit, I went for a walk through Las Peñas… and climbed the 444 steps of Cerro Santa Ana. One by one. Like the journey.
Day 6 – Reunions
“Roads always cross with people”
Santi arrived. And with him, the travel dynamic came back. Conversation, shared decisions, the rhythm of two.
But the day had a surprise: Mati — a friend from Miami — was in Guayaquil with his family. We met up, jumped in a car, and went out for dinner. His wife, a local, took us to incredible places.
One of those nights that wasn’t in the plan… but ends up being one of the best. Great food, great drinks, great stories.
And again that feeling: the journey isn’t just the road… it’s the people who show up… and the ones who, even when they’re not there, are still present at every step.
Day 7 – Guayaquil → Quevedo
“Climbing again”
We set off. Left behind the heavy coastal heat — the kind that wraps around you — and started climbing.
The landscape changes fast: deep green, humidity, endless plantations, roads that wind through the vegetation. Ecuador has that: in a few hours, your whole world changes.
We slept in Quevedo, at a social and sports club that seemed frozen in time. Literally. Colonial furniture, antique décor… all a bit surreal, as if the place never got the memo that the years had passed. But perfect for breaking up the day.
Day 8 – Quevedo → Ipiales
“Border… again”
Long day. Mountain, curves, trucks, some rain. And that cold that comes back when you gain altitude.
The Andes again, right there. Imposing. Familiar. Challenging.
The border with Colombia… as expected. Slow. Long. Unnecessarily complicated. What should be simple… they turn into a bureaucratic odyssey.
But it no longer feels desperate. You get it. It’s part of the journey.
We crossed. We slept in Ipiales, right on the border. With that mix of tiredness and satisfaction. And the feeling of stepping into a new phase… again.ise through the chaos. And with friends like Santi, anything is possible.
As usual, we were up early, back on the bikes—and miraculously, dry.
The last stretch was the easiest: highways, no rain, warmer weather. But that can be dangerous too: you can’t relax or get overconfident. So we stayed focused—now at full cruising speed.
Our travel setup:
- Harley-Davidson Street Glide: classic touring bike, Batwing fairing, Milwaukee-Eight engine just under 1,900 cc—built to devour highways in comfort.
- Honda CRF1100L Africa Twin: adventure bike, 1,084 cc parallel twin, rally DNA, long-travel suspension, upright posture—ready for asphalt or dirt.
Last stop: a Shell in Port Saint Lucie, on Florida’s Turnpike. Lucky got a quick chair-massage, I grabbed an Americano, we fueled up for the last time.
At noon, we were back where everything had begun: Miami Shores. But we were no longer the same.
Experiences like this make you better friends, closer. You see the other person in different contexts—not just at barbecues or at games, but wet, cold, tired, scared, sleepy, happy.
We grew up together—same neighborhood, same school, same rugby club—but then life and distance happened. Distance in miles, not in feelings. Because every time we see each other, it’s like no time has passed. Like distance never existed.
Thank you, my friend, for sharing this adventure.
Thank you, Poly, for making us feel like part of your family, for opening your home and treating us like one of your own.
Thank you, Vale, for always being there. For being a partner in adventures, in joy, in sadness. A partner in life.
I hope my children live things like this. I was going to write “I hope they get lucky,” but this isn’t luck. This is the result of nurturing beautiful relationships over time.
Because at the end of the day, it’s not about the journey or the destination. It’s about who you share it with. That’s what we’re made of: the people around us.
Day 9 – Ipiales → Popayán
“Postcards and warnings”
We set off and Colombia welcomed us the way it knows how: incredible roads. Perfect curves, jungle, mountains… a constant spectacle.
On one of those curves, something unusual. An old tow truck on the roadside. We stopped. They were pulling a car out of a ravine, fallen into a mountain stream. Fortunately, the driver was fine. Just metal. One more reminder of how thin that line is.
We kept going. Further along, we stopped to eat somewhere… questionable. Mistake. Moving on.
We arrived in Popayán. And there, everything changed. They say it’s the best-preserved colonial city in the Americas… and they’re not exaggerating. White everywhere. Cobblestone streets. Order. Cleanliness.
That night we had an incredible dinner. Then, a recommended cantina. We walked in… and it was a tango temple. Gardel on the walls. Vinyl records everywhere. Tangos playing.
And there, in the middle of Colombia… Argentina again. And again… memories.
Day 10 – Popayán → Pereira
“Lost”
The GPS decided to play. And it won.
Leaving Popayán it sent us down a gravel road… but not a normal gravel road. Closed mountain. Climbs, descents, mud, rock. Three hours in. No signal. No landmarks. The GPS wasn’t helping. The locals couldn’t explain how to get out. It felt like a loop. A game. And not a fun one.
But in those moments… something else shows up. Patience. Instinct. And that inner voice that says: keep going.
After twists, attempts, and some intuition… we found a way out. Coincidence or luck.
We arrived in Pereira. And then: shower, food… and that simple relief that’s worth gold.
Day 11 – Pereira → Bogotá
“Each one their own road”
Last day. Decision.
Santi kept going to Medellín, to see friends. Me… back to Miami. My brother was arriving on the weekend. And I’d already been on the road for two weeks.
So I headed to Bogotá alone.
Not many kilometers… but dense ones. Curves. Traffic. Tunnels that open and close. Heavy rhythm.
But the landscapes… never disappoint.
I arrived at night. Tired. But with that feeling you can’t put into words.
Last stop in South America… for now. Next day: paperwork. The bike ready to fly to Panama. And stay there… waiting.
Because this isn’t over. It’s just… on pause.
And deep down, knowing that in every kilometer… some journeys aren’t made alone.
