Trying to cross an international border on a motorbike can be stressful. There’s voluminous paperwork one must have in order and zero tolerance for errors; one misplaced, incorrectly stamped or misdated document is all it takes to get rejected. But in South America where corruption is rife, all the paperwork in the world may not give you a green light unless palms are greased first.
So, you can appreciate my trepidation as I leave squeaky clean Chile, one of the least corrupt countries in the world, and approach Argentina—a country where “payoffs, kickbacks and government corruption are considered part of everyday life,” according to the New York Times.
But I’ve got a secret weapon: My mother is Argentinian and I have a good grip on the Spanish language. As I present my paperwork at Paso Rodolfo Roballos, a remote border crossing in the middle of nowhere 2,250 kilometers southwest of the capital, Buenos Aires, I make small talk with border officials about how I’m returning to my mother’s land, about the beautiful scenery, about motorbikes, the weather... anything to prove my Latin credentials. Whether or not the chit chat has any impact is impossible to say. But after a final cursory glance at my passport, the man who holds my fate in his hands stamps it and wishes me a safe voyage before adding, as an afterthought, that I should take care in the wind.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة July/August 2017 من Adventure Motorcycle (ADVMoto).
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة July/August 2017 من Adventure Motorcycle (ADVMoto).
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
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It was 2:00 a.m. on my fourth day in India. My eyes blinked open in the dark of a hotel room in Drass, a town in the Himalayas on the Indian side of the border. Yesterday was our first day riding on a six-day trip through the Himalayas, and my brain could not process everything I'd seen and experienced.
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Kevin and I initially met in the Marines. We have been riding together for a few years, and riding BDRs the entire time. Our first attempt at a BDR was in Utah, where we were completely unprepared and significantly ignorant of our capabilities. It led to some interesting moments conquering Lockhart Basin where we developed our backcountry motto: “Less Gear and More Water.” We document our rides on our YouTube channel, “Be Gone for Good.”