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About Blake El Explorador

Herein are chronicled the thoughts and meanderings of a Motorcycle named Lost and her boy, a wreckless vagabond soul who answers to Blake Golden El Explorador.Lost! is a Queeb with a drinking problem (no surprise there) but at least she doesn’t smoke. She enjoys turning distant specks on the horizon into towering monoliths, throwing her rider violently into the air, and impromptu naps in the dirt. She also gets a kick out of toads.¡Blake! is a man-child constantly seeking new challenges, experiences, and questions (even occasionally accepting answers); he reads too much into things that mean naught and rarely notices things of significance. The photos on the blog are his creations, but in truth are stolen piecemeal à la Picasso – anything original you may witness here is completely unintentional.Ostensibly on a Quest to reach the End of the World, the two adventurers are taking a circumlocuitous route that from time to time actually takes them farther South, though never further towards answering that revenant mystery – what are they really searching for?They’ll meet strange and fascinating characters, see otherworldly sights and together chase adventures and horizons, borne on the winds of destiny and powered by overconfidence and undeniable wanderlust.

Trip Start: 2012-07-29 Trip End: .

Author Archive | Blake El Explorador

The one with the booze and the nature.

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A desert rises ahead and falls behind on the journey to Creel. I can’t stop and see everything, to my chagrin. What I would give for another hundred years on this earth…
The route, though quickly deteriorating to remote gravel roads, is surprisingly well signed. Gotta get that infrastructure taken care of to shuttle beer in and precious metals out.…

The way of the guey

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How to cross the border into Mexico:
Go towards Mexico. Pass the US Border. There, you’re done!
The Mexican frontier has no customs or immigration from the U.S. side, though they are hardly so lax with their neighbours to the South. Borders seem to be a one-way economic valve around here.

Crossing into Juarez is immediately interesting, not in the…

The soft side of the ragged edge

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Cold droplets on my face wake me instantly. It is drizzling and the mosquito net is jewelled with water.
The pines are grey under cloudy morning; light seeps in from beyond the horizon where the sun has already risen. I pack quickly in the early chill, breaking my fast with single-serving peanut butter packets before setting off to lower altitudes…

The best paths, like the best stories, are passed on only by word of mouth

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I’m done in Page. Strike gold in the breakfast buffet – today they have a bacon tray. And I’m off.
From the desert rise strange forms and images to occupy my mind with questions as I ride towards Flagstaff.

I’ve been fortunate to find myself invited to Arizona’s airy heights where Lost will gain a new heart and kick her…

If all your friends jumped off a 90 foot cliff…

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First order of business in Page is to explore; it’s actually an interesting place to walk around.

While chatting with Ron, owner of a local coffee shop, I ask about The Steps, a hike Korey told me about last night. He insists on getting my family’s contact info in case I don’t return. I thank him but insist I can…

Bittersweet

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Wild creatures rise with the sun.
I pack up my gear in near darkness, sit again to listen to the canyonwind lullaby, watch the sky lighten. I realize I want to spend weeks here. I need to spend weeks here. This whole part of the world, it soothingly overwhelms my wanderlust with its endlessly layered wonder and beauty. I feel…

Sublime

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Today I reach the Grand Canyon. My usual indirect trajectory takes me through Horseshoe Bend, Vermillion Cliffs, Marble Canyon, damn impressive places to behold. With each new sight I am inspired and concerned – this journey is strengthening my wanderlust even as it appeases it.

Like so many places I’ve passed before, the Grand Canyon the sort of place that…

The bountiful wastelands

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Barren.
The landscape before me is apocalyptically empty en route to Moab. A flash of colour from a hill lures me to trek and discover a crafted flower and a jellyfish fossil. The wasteland undulates lazily into the distance. I foresee a long, unremarkable ride ahead.

I love it when I’m wrong.
Adjectives begin to fail me as unimagined geographical…

I walk this path for the first time again, doors opening as I reach for them

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Road, onward, curves through more spectacular scenery.
The trees Aspen is named for remind me I’m missing fall back home; golden leaves shimmering in the wind. I just keep passing places I feel I could hang up the hammock for a month in. The mountains and all their layers of beauty call to the very core of my being, a…

The majesty of the mountains mocks our feeble attempts at shaping the earth; our greatest kingdoms forever overshadowed by barren, windy peaks.

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Like Santa Fe, all I knew about Denver was that it was called Denver. In deference to its surroundings I always imagined a low-slung town, fields leading away to the jagged mountainscape. Wandering into an unexpected city in my path, I discover it is in fact huge. A Harley rider sets me on back course to Boulder as I wind…

I knew I should have taken a left at Coruscant…

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The massive state of Texas shrinks in time and memory as I make my way forward through New Mexico towards the Rocky Mountains.
Just entering the state I notice an interesting change. Despite the occasional relief or geometric pattern appearing on the overpasses in Texas, there are few obvious signs that it was ever anything but The Lone Star State.…

Marathon Man

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Another early, golden morning. It feels good to rise with the sun.
An unexpected guest joins me as I cook rice on a stove made from a beer can.

I pick up a pair of shades against the sun from a Family Dollar. Some queer chromatic aberration makes rainbow hues show up all over when I put my visor down…

It would be so easy to just turn around…

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The endless highway drudges on, hypnotic, soporific.
I catch myself struggling for consciousness, but I’m too stubborn to pull over. I’ve been on the road for hours and gotten nowhere – evacuation traffic just never ends.
Lessons in riding tired are almost learned the hard way as I make my slow advance towards Houston, but my foggy consciousness manages to…

Dancing with Lust and other Natural Disasters

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I’m falling into a rhythm in my strange new home.
My mornings are beauty and stillness. Wake up; watch the sunrise over the lake, diluted by city haze.
Climb down, let Lost out of the electrical room I store her in for the night. Simple boiled rice and vegetables for breakfast; roam the deserted grounds. It’s hard to break the…

The most posh hobo-camp in New Orleans

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The sepia almost-light of cloudy dawn pulls me down from my dreams, but not to the ground.
Carefully, I exit my shelter, remembering my lullaby – Don’t get out of your hammock and die, don’t get out of your hammock and die…
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Yesterday began with a delicious coffee and conversations with perfect strangers on sex and religion, attended by…

Into the Other-Wild

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New Orleans; it might as well be Mos Eisley for the reactions I’ve gotten from people when I tell them my explorations take me there. A local girl I contact makes reference to a surplus of axe murderers. The local tongue-in-cheek rag runs a piece on Sudden Bullet Death Syndrome.
Still, reputations have a tendency to collect momentum and outgrow…

The second-most most posh hobo camp in New Orleans

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Alright so the last post was photo sparse due to most of the recent shots being corrupted. I was lucky, and the majority of the nuclear shots came out, though I lost some keepers for sure.
The Refinery Incident behind me, I make it to a McDonalds and do a last minute websearch for a place to crash, as I’m…

The Man ate my photos

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Time in transit again. I ride, digest the events of the journey so far, and lose myself in translation as the odometer spins steadily.
A rusty bridge with vines interlaced through the latticed steel beams stirs me from my reveries and off track. Further investigation leads me to discover the Wild Turkey Distillery, and as usual Lost proves herself a…

Euclidean Pornography

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The hint of sun on the horizon triggers my photographer’s internal alarm and I snap awake, grab my camera, and head for the fence I saw last night. There’s a camera trained on the main entrance, so I have to run through the field of ticks. It’s still early but already heating up. Despite this I am wearing my full…

Squirrel Brains and River People

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So my stay in Kentucky is brief but eventful. The night of the 6 flags caper, Buddykermit invites me to crash at his pad. The place is pretty sketchy – enough so that I decide to bring in my saddlebags off the bike. Then it turns out my host is a gun nut – but hey, I’ve always wanted to…