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Gofullnomad

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Photographer, diver, adventurer, sailor, visual storyteller, nomad...I've spent years trekking the planet to over 137 countries on the roads less traveled.
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My life has been a quest for knowledge.

10/29/2026

Down, But Not Out
In all my years of riding, I’ve been lucky. Thousands of miles across borders, mountains and cities, and never a crash. On a quiet evening in Mocoa, Colombia, that luck finally ran out.

The day’s ride was done. My bags were off at the hotel, and I was slipping out a few blocks for something to eat. I had my jacket and helmet on but not my riding pants. Just a quick trip, I thought.

Coming down a hill, I rolled toward a green light with a group of traffic. A motorcycle came up on my left and swung right, straight across all of us. He clipped my front tire, and the bike went out from under me. Just like that, the bike and I were sliding across the asphalt, coming to rest in the middle of the intersection. Thankfully, no one ran us over.

I stood up, walked it off, pulled off my helmet and let out a few words I won’t repeat here. Then I walked back to my bike. The other rider parked, came over and asked if he could help. Together we lifted her up and pushed her to the side of the road.

Every country has its own customs for what happens next. I’d read about many of them over the years, and in that moment I couldn’t remember a single one. So I did what we all do: I called a friend. He was in Peru and didn’t know, but he gave me the number of someone in Colombia. Their advice was not to call the police. It would mean days of paperwork and very little else. Better to settle it there on the street.

So I told the rider he needed to pay for the damage. He asked how much. How could I know? I walked around the bike: a deeply scratched engine guard, a twisted clutch lever, a broken hand guard, a bent mirror, a snapped windshield mount, plus a dozen smaller scars. I took a guess and said $700. He said he’d go to the ATM.

I was sure I’d never see him again. Ten minutes later he was back, with the full amount in Colombian pesos. We shook hands.

Then I walked over to the woman at the arepa cart, who had watched the whole thing from behind her grill, bought an arepa and sat down. I let my nerves settle and the frustration drain away. When I was ready, I got back on the bike and rode away.

A good scrape on my knee and some soreness in my knee and arm. That’s all. The bike and I both got knocked down. Neither of us stayed down.

The road will humble you eventually. What matters is what you do after. I got up, I settled up, I ate an arepa, and the next morning I rode on.

10/27/2026

Mud, a stranger, and a monastery....
Rain in the night turned the Tatacoa Desert to clay. A short way down the road, a motorcycle sat sunk to its axles. You don't ride past that. We rocked it free together, and I met a German who'd just moved here to open an outdoor movie theater under the desert stars. Two foreigners, each chasing something unlikely.

A stop in Timaná, where the whole town gathers around one enormous tree. So many towns begin that way, around a tree, a river, a rock. Ours did too. We just paved over the reasons.

By afternoon, the green hills of San Agustín and Hotel Monasterio, an old coffee finca with tile roofs, wooden balconies and a small chapel. My room sat right beside it, close enough to feel the quiet of the place settle in.

Dinner in the old dining hall, candlelight and fine food, and from the speakers, of all things, Foreigner. Jukebox Hero in a monastery in the Colombian hills. The road has a sense of humor.
Mud in the morning. Rock and roll at night. Somewhere in between, the stillness I came for.

10/25/2026

Some roads are a little like life. You’re cruising along on smooth blacktop, and out of the corner of your eye you catch a dirt track peeling off toward the hills. You don’t know if it leads to more joy or less. You don’t know what’s waiting down there, danger or wonder. But if you’ve been blessed, or cursed, with curiosity, you already know what happens next. You turn around.

Maybe that’s what’s always set me apart. I’ve spent a lifetime running from the routine, the safe bet, the guaranteed outcome.

So I took the dirt road. It wound up into the mountains and then, out of nowhere, a black hole opened up in the rock. A tunnel. No sign, no light at the other end, no idea where it went. An old mine shaft straight to the center of the earth? Or the way forward?

I stopped. I looked. And then I rode in.

On the other side, a bridge over a beautiful river. And just past it, another black hole in the mountain, waiting.

So I did it again.

They say the older we get, the fewer chances we take. I’ve found the opposite. Every minute gets more precious, and I’d rather spend them finding out what’s on the other side.

10/20/2026

CHAPTER TWO: BOGOTÁ TO LIMA — THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES! 🏍️🌎
As many of you will remember, earlier this year I rode my Triumph from Dallas, Texas, through Central America to Panama City, where the road literally ends.

That was Chapter One. Now it's time for Chapter Two: Bogotá to Lima, Peru, exploring the back roads, winding through the Andes, and discovering whatever adventures South America has waiting for me.
First, I had to get my motorcycle across the infamous Darién Gap, a treacherous, roadless jungle separating Panama and Colombia. Since you can't ride through it, your choices are boat or plane. I flew my Triumph to Bogotá to meet her there. (I'll post a fascinating video about the Darién Gap in the comments.)

My welcome to Bogotá? A hotel warning of freezing temperatures and hail!

The next morning, I headed to customs, passing walls covered with stickers from fellow overland travelers who had come before me. Unfortunately, Colombia's entire import computer system had crashed, leaving us waiting eight hours before being told to return tomorrow.

By 6:00 the following morning, the paperwork was finally complete and my Triumph was released.

Freedom! Well, almost.

After six months in storage, the battery was dead. My jump starter got her running, but she wouldn't restart on her own. Not a problem I wanted deep in the Andes!

At the local Triumph dealership, I got a new battery and met Alberto, a lifelong motorcyclist with a Triumph Rocket. We swapped travel stories, and he told me about a café he'd recently opened where riders can park their motorcycles inside and enjoy some of Colombia's finest coffee. Now that's my kind of place! I'll be visiting next time I'm in Bogotá.

With the bike repaired and the paperwork behind me, it was finally time to hit the road.

Lima may be the destination, but the adventure is everything in between! 🏍️🇨🇴🇪🇨🇵🇪

06/18/2026

At first glance, Tokyo Tower looks a lot like the Eiffel Tower....except this one is painted a brilliant international orange and white, making it impossible to miss against the Tokyo skyline. The resemblance is no accident. Tokyo Tower was inspired by the Eiffel Tower as a symbol of progress and national pride. While the Eiffel Tower stands 330 meters (1,083 feet) tall today, Tokyo Tower rises to 333 meters (1,092 feet), making it slightly taller despite being built more than 70 years later as a symbol of Japan's post-war rebirth.

The tower features two observation decks, including the Top Deck at 250 meters (820 feet), offering breathtaking 360-degree views across one of the largest cities on Earth. Jade isn't exactly a fan of heights....unless she's strapped into a roller coaster, but she was a great sport as we rode elevator after elevator all the way to the top. Standing high above the city, we were treated to an incredible panorama stretching in every direction.

Looking out over Tokyo really puts the scale of this city into perspective. The Tokyo metropolitan area is home to roughly 37 million people, making it the largest metropolitan area in the world. For comparison, the New York City metropolitan area has about 20 million residents. From above, the city seemed endless, with buildings, neighborhoods, and lights stretching as far as the eye could see. Jade and I spent quite a while talking about just how massive Tokyo really is and trying to comprehend the sheer number of people who call this place home.

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