Every ride so far, and the ones I’m still planning.
Long-form trip reports — the routes, the failures, what each one taught me. The written companions are slowly catching up to the videos. New ones land here first.
I let AI plan my motorcycle journey.
Day eleven of a thirty-day fast. Two-fifty kilometres of freezing rain and hail to make the Tasmania ferry. The GPS chose the road; Amor Fati did the rest.
Thirty days without food, riding to Tasmania.
Sydney to Geelong, the Spirit of Tasmania across the Bass Strait, into the island — on water, black coffee, and electrolytes. The way in, before the ride proper.
My learning curve.
Two hours northwest of Sydney to a Hipcamp run by a couple of lion tamers. Trail braking practice, standing on the pegs, and a long campfire on Brave New World.
Why I chose the savage life.
Christmas alone in the rainforest, ABS off down a 4WD-only driveway, elephant turns badly, and the slow argument that comfort makes us numb.
I got lost in the Watagans.
Old country an hour and a half north of Sydney — Darkinjung land, logging tracks, bushranger hideouts. A safe place to get lost.
Hill End, the goldtown with twenty-eight pubs.
Camping the Bridle Track on the Turon, panning for gold, fire on a ferro rod, and a quiet argument about pleasure versus the other thing.
I found gold in Sofala.
Razorback Ridge, a sketchy river crossing, Crown land beside the Turon — and a first pan that did not come up empty.
Coming up.
Mostly solo. If a run opens up to riders I’ll say so here, and the dispatch goes out first.
The Far North, slowly.
South Island shake-down.
All routes, one map.
Australia and Aotearoa, side by side. Solid lines are completed journeys; dashed lines are runs coming up.
Stylised — not to scale. A proper Mapbox + GPX version will replace this once the South Island shake-down is on the books.