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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

I’m still alive

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I will never forget the sensation of my helmet scraping against the asphalt, moments stretching on for infinities as that grinding overwhelms my ears and I slide completely beyond control. I recall in this time outside of time, with odd…

Icarus Complex

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Fun is a relative term. That’s why some people’s favourite roads are what others would call “bad”. The road, to use the term loosely, to Batopilas from Urique is one of those roads I think everyone can agree is bad,…

I am my own worst enemy. After cats. And arachnids. Don’t even get me started on spiderfelines.

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Urique mornings. “You’re a persistent little fucker, Mr. Fuzzynuts,” I grumble halfheartedly as my well endowed feline foe zips past me when I open the kitchen door, leaving behind him a mess of crumbs where I’d left my bread, again.…

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.…

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…

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,…

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…

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…