In my last post, I talked about the mental side of prepping for a big motorcycle trip and how easy it is to overpack out of fear and how it can all feel like a full-time job. I also promised I’d eventually share our actual packing list.

So, here it is.

Below is the list we made for our 100-day, 15,000km ride to Kazakhstan on our Suzuki DR650s but instead of just dropping the raw spreadsheet, I’m also treating this as a post-trip review where I breakdown what we packed, what we’d absolutely take again, and what we would leave behind next time.

Throughout this list, you’ll notice I frequently split items into “Gion” and “Dad” categories. We ran different setups for things like luggage, sleep systems, and clothing. I’m formatting it this way to highlight a crucial reality of adventure riding: there is absolutely no “one size fits all.” What works perfectly for my dad’s comfort might not match my budget or riding style, and vice versa.

Note: If a category doesn’t have a specific “Gion vs. Dad” breakdown, it means we either used the exact same gear, or we shared a single item (like our camping kitchen) to save on precious space and weight.

For most items, I’ll give a generic name, the actual model we took, and a quick one-liner review. If you’d like a more thorough, in-depth breakdown of any specific piece of gear, drop a comment below!

Remember though, you don’t need the top-of-the-crop, best brand of anything. The specific items we took often came down to budget, availability, fit, and ultimately what just worked for us. What works for you might be completely different, and that is okay.

Admin & Paperwork

This is the boring part but it is the only category that is absolutely super duper necessary, where “overpacking” is somewhat acceptable. If you don’t have the right papers, the trip stops.

You’re gonna be asked to show these a lot, so keep them easily accessible, in a very water tight place.

• Passport & Copies: You don’t need a ton of copies, but make sure you always have 5-10 with you and restock at hostels. The Pamir Highway for example is famous for needing to give one away at every checkpoint. We had to give 8.

• Passport Photos: You’ll need a few for random visas and visas on arrival. You can get them done in major cities, but land borders are often in the middle of nowhere. So have some aside.

• Driving License & International Driving License (IDL): The IDL is invalid without your original driver’s license. So carry both. I did my trip to KZ without an IDL and might have lucked out by never being asked for it. Next time, I’d absolutely take one, even if forums say otherwise.

• Vehicle Registration (Carte Grise): Checked at every single border. Make sure the document is in your name and not somebody else’s. It’ll save you a lot of trouble.

• Carnet de Passage en Douane (CPD): This is kind of your bike’s passport. Not all countries need this. Most don’t actually. We had to get one done for traversing Iran but that was it. It takes about a month to process the order and I believe you can only get it done in your bike’s registration country. Don’t lose it and make sure it is correctly stamped upon entrance and exit of the countries that need it because some border guards are completely unaware of what to do with it.

• Basic Motorcycle Insurance : You probably need one to ride in your own country anyway. If you’re based in Europe it probs also covers the entire continent. Once you’re out of Europe, many countries will legally require you to buy local insurance.

• Health & Motorcycle Insurance: You’re on a motorcycle on a multi-month trip, so assume you will have an accident or at least a bike incident. It’s almost inevitable. To me, it doesn’t make sense to not get one.

• Cash: Cash is king, especially 100 USD bills. Across central Asia they’re the most widely accepted bills for exchange. You could also get cash from ATMs but they often come with massive fees upward of 10%. You’re way better off exchanging. Smaller bill denominations are often not accepted or come with bigger exchange fees. Keep the bills crisp, uncreased, ideally printed somewhat recently. Money exchangers will sometimes reject a bill if it has a tiny tear or fold. Stash it all in multiple hiding spots.

The Luggage Setup

Dad and I ran different luggage brands on our DR650s, but the philosophy was the same: rackless soft luggage. We tried everything: hard paniers, racked soft bags, banana style giant loop bags and settled on rackless bags because we wanted to be as lightweight as possible and as nimble as possible. (Also because they look like the real deal). We found that 80 liters was the sweet spot. Trimming down further is definitely possible, but it would require sacrificing tools or investing in more expensive, ultra-lightweight gear.

Gion’s Setup:

• Tank bag: Enduristan Sandstorm 4S. Honestly, I would not recommend it. It lacks organizational pockets, so my stuff just ended up in a messy pile. It has almost no internal padding, so I hated having my camera vibrating inside. It held up against rain, but I took it off for river crossings since it’s only a zipper and not fully waterproof. I’d definitely look for a different one next time. Also the transparent top map holder started ungluing at one point. And the map holder doesn’t have a secure way to close it so it felt like whatever I put inside (a map, documents, my phone with Google maps) could fly away easily.

• Luggage bags: Mosko Reckless 80. Great stuff. I bought a Gen 2 second-hand, and it was amazing. I always wondered why they have such a massive reputation and cost so much, but now I get it. They’re incredibly rugged, and the system just works perfectly. 10/10 would buy again.

Dad’s Setup:

• Tank bag: Giantloop Fandango. Solid bag but the zipper system to take it on and off the bike was not great.

• Side bags: Kriega OS-Base pack with 2x18L bags.

• Rear bag: Kriega US-40.

Backpacks

Neither of us wore a backpack, and we never felt like we needed one. I did wear my Alpinestars Techdura jacket (more on that below), which has a built-in “tactical backpack” that’s basically just a bunch of pockets. But whether you wear a backpack or not, here is the golden rule: ALWAYS keep your passport and a stash of cash on your actual person, not on the bike. If the absolute worst happens and your bike tumbles down a mountain with all your luggage attached to it, you can still hitchhike to the nearest airport and get the heck out of the country.

Pro-Tip: The Dedicated First Aid Bag

We used a small Enduristan front mudguard/fender bag for one thing and one thing only: the first aid kit. This was one of our best decisions. We always knew exactly where it was, and it was instantly accessible. The idea came from a previous trip where I got a deep cut on my finger and spent minutes frantically digging through dad’s bags with my bloody finger while he was having beer I don’t know where. Was it in the left pannier? The top bag? Stuffed at the bottom? (It was). In a critical situation, you do not have time to dig. You need a reliable quick-access spot that you never touch unless it’s an emergency.

Camping, Living & Cooking

We opted to mostly rough it, but the few luxuries we brought were heavily debated.

• Tent:

  • Gion: Cheap second hand 1.5p tent. Bought it for 30 bucks. It’s nothing special and wasn’t very compact at all, and it didn’t fit inside my Mosko Bags, so I had it strapped under the Mosko beaver tail. No complaints though. Would use it again.

  • Dad: Nemo Osmo Dragonfly Bikepack 2P & Ground sheet. Lightweight, packed incredibly small inside the Kriega side bag, and survived the steppe winds. The ground sheet is mandatory though. You’ll be scared to damage the inner sheet without it as soon as you’re on anything that isn’t grass.

• Sleeping bag:

  • Gion: Millet synthetic 0ºC sleeping bag. It’s a bit bulky, but it’s what I had. I knew it worked for me and didn’t have the budget for a warmer and more compact down bag. This is where I’d spend money first for the next trip. The space savings of down are massive.

  • Dad: Sea to Summit Spark Pro sleeping bag, S2S Reactor liner

• Mattress:

  • Gion: Cheap no-name compact mattress with R factor of 1.4. Comfort was good enough for me, I can easily sleep on any kind of surface. But I would want to find a better insulating one for next time. Cold comes from the ground, and you get better returns from a slightly more insulating mattress than a sleeping bag that’s double the cost. We were lucky enough that we didn’t have many very cold nights, but there were a couple of them where I was fully dressed (armor, moto jacket and everything), where I wished for a better insulating pad.

  • Dad: Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Xlite NXT pad (with repair pads), and a Nemo Fillo Pillow. Dad has a harder time finding quality sleep, but I never heard him complain once about this setup, which is a high praise. The thick cusion and 4.5 R factor insulation did wonders.

• Chair:

  • Dad: Heliox Zero.

  • Gion: No Chair. I initially mocked dad for bringing one. But by week two, I was insanely jealous watching him recline at the end of the day, beer in his hand, while I sat in the dirt. I’m officially converted now.

• Kitchen: For the two of us we had one MSR pocket rocket burner and one small MSR pot (the 0.75L one), an MSR Skillet, 2 deep plates, a cup, a thermos to make tea, 2 forks, 2 spoons and 2 camp knives. That was it. We didn’t need any extra stuff and we didn’t need two burners. We often ate directly from the pot or skillet and it was more than fine.

• Cleaning: Solid dish washing soap block inside a soap bar bag, a compact towel, and a small brush. The solid soap block was great. It lasts forever and can’t leak in your bags.

• Bear Spray: Luckily, we never had to use it. They’re in a bit of a legal gray zone, but multiple officers and border guards asked us about it and didn’t seem to care. More important than bear spray though is to leave your food a couple hundred meters away from your camp when in bear zones.

Electronics

• Charger

  • Small 65W, 3 port GAN charger and a 200W 6 port Anker charging station. I took out the small 65w charger for small coffee and lunch stops. I had it at all times in my tank bag. And I took the big 200W charger out when we slept at hotels. This meant I could connect everything overnight and be sure everything would be fully charged by the morning, without having to swap connections through the night.

• Power bank:

  • Anker Powerbank 165 W 25000 mAh, with 70 cm integrated cables. I thought the integrated cables would be a bit of a gimmick but it actually made life easier not having to mess with extra cables inside the tank bag. Would recommend.

• Cameras

  • No comment here as everyone has their own setup and preferences here. Make sure whatever you take is rugged enough to withstand the harsh, dusty conditions of where you’re going.

• Computer

  You really don’t need one unless you’re editing photos or making videos.

  • Gion: Macbook Pro M3. Overkill for most people, but I like to shoot and edit videos and I shoot in 4k.

  • Dad: M1 iPad Pro + Keyboard : Great for journaling and editing photos.

• Cables and adapters: Bring spares, they will break.

Riding Gear & Protection

Your gear is your office and your living room. Protect the adventure. We both went for a layered system. There is no single best system out there. Try on as many as you can and take whichever one fits you best and feels most comfortable.

• Jacket:

  • Gion: Alpinestars Techdura Jacket. It’s ok. There weirdly isn’t any CE abrasion rating, so because of that I cannot fully recommend it. I assume they did that to save costs. But the material seemed as rugged as any other rated jacket I have seen. I took this jacket specifically because it had removable sleeves which was amazing in the hotter weather as well as an integrated water bladder pocket. I also liked the many pockets. I had my passport, phone, wallet and bike papers on me at all times.

  • Dad: Klim Dakar Jacket. Similar philosophy to the Alpinestars: Designed for layered system and separate protection. It had an actual CE rating, but less pockets.

• Pants:

  • Gion: Klim Switchback Cargo. These aren’t designed for long term adventure travel, but they did the trick great. They’re super comfy on the bike and around camp. I basically lived in them everyday except rest days. I liked to have moto pants that I can still wear around camp because you’ll be outside in the wilderness. The ruggedness of moto pants allows you to get on your knees to setup your tent, make a fire, sit down on the floor, etc. without being scared of ripping your pants over time. The only downside of these pants are that they’re quite warm and not very well ventilated, but I’m fine with that.

  • Dad: Klim Dakar pants for cold and mild weather, Klim Mojave pants for hot weather. Dad is quite sensitive to the heat, so he went with a 2 pair setup. These require your own knee protection. Dad used the Asterisk Carbon knee braces.

• Rain Layer:

  • Goretex rain jacket/pants (Klim Forecast). Get something large enough that it fits above everything, yet compact enough that it feels comfortable around camp.

• Base & Mid Layers:

  • Gion: Basic decathlon base layer (top and bottom). I only used them when it got very cold at night.

  • Dad: Klim Aggressor 1.0 long and short sleeve tshirts (3 total) and klim leggings. Worn daily under the armor.

• Warm layer

  • Gion: Random no name, sleeveless puffer jacket bought in Turkey for 30 bucks. Did the job, but wasn’t very compact nor the warmest. I’d invest in a better one for next time.

  • Dad: Patagonia Nano Puff Jacket. Would recommend.

• Upper Protection:

  It’s hard to recommend anything here over something else. Try as many as you can and take the one that fits you best. We recommend level 2. Remember, you’re going on a long trip. You can recover from being sick and minor scratches within a couple of days, but a broken bone will send you back home

  • Gion: Fox Titan Sport Jacket. CE Level 2 everywhere. Did the job.

  • Dad: Alpinestars A-10. CE Level 2. Did the job.

• Helmet & Vision:

  • Gion: Bell MX-9 ADV MIPS. Great affordable helmet. Have been using it for the past four years. It’s a bit noisy though.

  • Dad: Airo Commander 2 helmet, Scott Prospect Goggles.

• Boots:

  Get some good boots. Feet and ankles are the first thing that break, especially while riding offroad on a heavy bike with side bags. This will save your trip more than anything. We both used the Sidi Adventure 2 GTX boots and can recommend them.

• Gloves:

  Whatever feels good to you. I like lighter, more vented gloves and heated grips when it’s cold. Never felt the need for waterproof gloves.

• Jersey:

  Most of the time I also wore an MX Jersey just above the Armor. Is it necessary? Not really. Does it look cool? Heck yeah. We both used the Klim Mojave Jersey. It’s more rugged than a typical MX jersey and meant for these longer trips.

• Extras:

  Not gear per se but dad had a sheep skin on his seat to protect his butt. He swears by it. Defo recommended.

Personal Clothing & Hygiene

You don’t need a massive wardrobe.

• Top:

  • Gion: 2 decathlon merino tshirts and a cheap decathlon polar fleece. I had never used merino before but I fell in love with it. Super light, barely stinks at all. I didn’t experience the scratchiness or discomfort many people get. And they were rugged enough to last the 4 months without getting any holes. I would swap the polar for a compact puffer next time.

  • Dad: Used the klim layers above as a daily tshirt. Didn’t need a polar as his Patagonia puffer did the job of keeping him warm.

• Bottom:

  • Gion: Decathlon 2-in-1 trekking pants/shorts. The kind with a zipper down the middle to transform them from pants to shorts. Embrace the dorkiness, it saves a ton of space.

  • Dad: Mammut trekking pants, Mammut shorts

• Underwear & Socks:

  • 3 pairs of underwear, 3 pairs of moto socks, 1 extra pair of off bike socks. You don’t need more. Use merino to avoid the smell.

• Shoes

  • You’re gonna want a pair of light walking shoes for those rest days and city exploration days. I used a pair of running shoes, but ideally I would use something more compact next time. They take up a lot of space.

• Hygiene:

  • Compact towel

  • Wet wipes & toilet paper

  • Laundry wash leaves (never used them, there are laundry services everywhere)

  • Laundry cord (never used it)

  • Soap block (not the liquid stuff, a block lasts way longer)

  • Toothbrush and toothpaste (don’t get a compact set, you’re not saving any space)

  • Sunscreen: heaps

• Medical: 1st Aid Kit (learn and study what is in it and how to use it. Keep it easily accessible) & personal medication.

• Extra: Beanie, Neck gaiter (protects against both wind and sunburns on the bike), a fisher hat.

Motorcycle: Spares, Tools & Consumables

The DR650 is a tractor, but it’s not invincible. We kept our tools organized in an Enduristan toolbag and stored the spares in transparent dry bags so we could easily see what we had without unpacking everything.

Spares

• Tires: Dad started off with a Metzeler MC360 Mid Hard up front and a Motoz Tractionator Adventure in the rear. The rear did great, but the front was completely chewed up after 5,000km. After a service stop in Erzurum, we both switched to a Mitas E-07+ ENDURO TRAIL at the rear and a Mitas MC-23 ROCKRIDER at the front. I highly recommend this combo. The front saved us countless times in the deep sand of Afghanistan and handled surprisingly well on paved roads, even in the rain. The rear E-07+ isn’t the most aggressive off-road tire and struggles a bit in deep mud, but it easily survived the 12,000km stretch from Erzurum to Almaty and still has a couple thousand kilometers left in it.

• Tubes: Heidenau Cross 3mm heavy-duty tubes (90/90-21 and 130/80-17) and rim strips. We also carried one standard reserve tube for both the front and rear. Common wisdom says you only need to carry a spare front (since a 21” tube can fit in a 17” rear in a pinch), but since there were two of us heading into incredibly remote areas with few shops, carrying the exact sizes gave us peace of mind.

• Motor & Fuel: Four clutch plates, a length of fuel hose, inline fuel filters, and spark plugs. Do not skip the clutch plates. A burnt clutch can happen without warning, leaving you stranded in the mountains. Even if you manage to hitch a ride out, you’ll be waiting a month for replacement parts to ship to a place like Tajikistan.

• Oil Filters & O-Rings: These are notoriously hard to find in Central Asia. You’ll probably end up stretching your oil change intervals out there, which the DR can handle, but swapping in a fresh filter when you finally do find oil will keep the engine happy.

• Chain: Two DID 525 VX3 clip-style master links and a few spare 525 chain links.

• Electrics & Controls: Ignition coil, pick-up coil, starter relay, multimeter, spare electrical wire, crimp connectors, replacement brake/clutch levers, a spare key, and a cable repair kit.

• Cables: A complete spare clutch cable.

• Suspension & Wheels: Spare fork seals, a SealMate (for cleaning dirt out of leaky seals), and a full set of front and rear wheel bearings and seals.

• Helmet Spares: Extra visor screws, comms system glue patches, and plastic scratch remover for the visor.

Tools

Pro-tip: Keep track of exactly which tools you use when working on your bike at home. This ensures you don’t forget anything vital, and stops you from carrying dead weight.

• Wrenches & Sockets: Standard metric sizes for the DR, a dedicated spark plug socket, and an 8” adjustable wrench.

• Screwdrivers & Keys: Phillips, flathead, metric Hex/Allen keys, and Torx bits. Verify you have the exact sizes needed for your specific aftermarket accessories.

• Motion Pro Combo Tire Iron/Axle Wrenches: These replace your heavy standard tire irons and bulky axle wrenches, saving a ton of space and weight.

• Tire & Chain Tools: Trail stand, tire pressure gauge, Motion Pro valve stem tool, spare Schrader valves/caps, a compact electric tire pump, a patch kit (with fresh glue), and a Motion Pro trail chain tool.

• Vise-Grips (Locking Pliers): Invaluable if you round off a bolt, strip a screw, or snap a shift lever and need a makeshift nub to shift with.

• Utility: Tow strap and a compact lithium jump-starter battery.

Consumables & Cleaning

• Fix-Its: Zip ties, JB Weld (or QuikSteel), superglue, Blue Loctite, Gorilla Tape, and electrical tape. You can practically rebuild half a motorcycle with just these items.

• Fluids & Lubrication: WD-40, Liqui Moly grease, and a small bottle of motor oil for chain lube (applied with an old toothbrush). We also carried 1L petrol jerry cans for reserve fuel.

• Hardware & Electrics: Spare fuses (10A, 20A), two fuel hose clamps, and a curated selection of metric nuts, bolts, and washers.

• Cleaning: Scotch-Brite pads and a microfiber towel.

Miscellaneous

• Water: We had an MSR 3L water bladder, I carried a camelback bladder inside my jacket (this kept me hydrated but also cooled me down when I poured a cold water from the fridge in there). Then we also always had a couple of extra plastic bottles bought from the store. We also carried some purification tablets but never had to use them.

• Navigation: I used an old Android phone inside a custom 3D printed mount, dad used a Garmin Navi system. Neither was perfect. The phone overheated often, the screen wasn’t super bright and the charging wasn’t always reliable because of the bike’s vibrations. But it was great to have both very detailed OpenStreetMaps, Google Maps as well as the ability to easily download GPX tracks directly to it. The Garmin was great as a GPS on the road, but was inconvenient when needing a GPX, or when someone wanted to point us somewhere on the map. If I were solo, I’d go with a Phone again, or both. But not the Garmin alone.

• Comms: We used Cardo comms. Good stuff. Don’t get the Slim version however. They’re inconvenient because you cannot detach the unit from the helmet, which means you have to bring your whole helmet to the charger, rather than just the detachable unit.

The Final Word: Just Go

Looking back at this list brings a flood of memories. Both the triumphs of having the exact right spare part in the middle of Afghanistan, and the comedy of carrying gear we never touched once in 15,000 kilometers.

The biggest takeaway I can offer is this: don’t let gear paralysis keep you in the garage. It is incredibly easy to spend months agonizing over the “perfect” setup, comparing ounces on a spreadsheet, and draining your bank account on the latest ultra-light titanium whatever. But as dad and I proved, a mix of second-hand bargains, a few strategic high-end investments, and a whole lot of zip-ties will get you across continents just fine.

Your clothes will get dirty, things will absolutely break, and you will definitely pack something stupid. That’s just part of the adventure. The gear will sort itself out on the road. What matters most is that you pack what you can, strap it down tight, and hit the starter button.

What does your adventure setup look like? Is there a weird luxury item you absolutely swear by (like dad and his sheepskin x chair combo), or a specific piece of gear from our list you want a deeper review on? Drop a comment below. Let’s talk about it.

Ride safe, and embrace the imperfect prep.

Before dad and I spent 100 days riding 15,000 kilometers from Europe to Kazakhstan, the preparation phase almost felt like a full-time job. I remember watching Long Way Round where Ewan, Charley and their team took months to prepare their adventure and thinking “no way you need that long to prep, just go!”. And yet here I was watching my 50th motorcycle jacket review and searching reddit for cheap amazon wool socks reviews.

If you’re like me, you’ll often get lost in the sauce to the point where you don’t even realize you’re in it, rather than just taking an executive decision. This cost me personally 2-3 weeks of my own trip, as I procrastinated clicking the buy button for the gear in my shopping cart. Suddenly you’ll start wondering if you need a €20,000 adventure bike and a satellite phone just to cross a border. Additionally to pure procrastination, staring at a map in your living room, with the sheer scale of the logistics, visas, spare parts, gear, routes, can feel paralyzing.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

After actually doing it, we realized that long-term motorcycle travel is a lot less about having the perfect gear and a lot more about having the right mindset, a couple of zip ties and just a bit of mandatory due diligence. With the experience we gained I feel like I could honestly just leave tomorrow and ride anywhere, with no prep really needed (except some paperwork, more on that below). So I wanted to share with you that knowledge, to hopefully relieve some of that procrastination, anxiety, or whatever is blocking you from simply going. Once/if you have all of these done, don’t wait a minute, adventure awaits!

1. The Best Bike is the bike you already have

The second best is the bike your heart wants.

We spent years wondering about the “perfect” world-tour machine, deep-diving into forums, watching endless reviews, and eventually settling on the mighty old Suzuki DR650. It was the rational choice. The one that made sense on paper.

But very quickly, we realized something: we honestly could’ve made the exact same journey on almost anything. We watched Afghan locals on battered Chinese 125s absolutely shredding through the most technical terrain we encountered, and we’ve seen countless different bikes on the road from the big BMW GSAs to the small cheapest-bike-on-motoscout 2001 Kawasaki ER-5. Heck, we even saw a bunch of madmen crossing the continent on those strange, human-powered machines they call “bicycles.” The truth is, any bike can make it through most terrain. And if you’re the Pol Tarrés kind of rider, you can probably do backflips on whatever you’re currently riding and you probably have the most kitted out bike on earth already anyway.

It is incredibly easy to forget that motorcycling is, at its core, a passion. It’s supposed to be fun. Not hyper optimized. You’re not competing in anything. Stop watching your 1000th Ténéré 700 vs. [insert bike here] comparison video. If you prefer the look and vibe of the Ducati DesertX over the T7 (and can afford it), but are hesitating because the T7 is 10% better off-road, then just get the DesertX. Trust me, you’re the limiting factor, not the bike.

Don’t default to the best bike on paper. Go with the bike that speaks to your heart. You’ll make it to your destination either way, because remember, the road is the destination. In fact, dad is already plotting to take his old 70s BMW Airhead to Magadan via the Road of Bones, and I can’t wait to take my 1991 Transalp through the Balkans. Two completely subpar bikes for the job, but two bikes we absolutely love.

2. Less is More

Pack light. You do not need four t-shirts; you need two. You don’t need two pairs of casual pants; you just need your riding gear and one pair of lightweight hiking pants for off-the-bike use. Pro tip: get the incredibly uncool ones with the zippers that transform them into shorts so you don’t have to pack a separate pair.

You don’t need seven pairs of underwear; three will do fine.

You don’t need two pans, two pots, and a full dining set. For the two of us, we carried one single pan, one single pot, one single plate/bowl hybrid, one single burner, two forks, two spoons and two pocket knives. It was all we needed.

Packing light isn’t just about reducing the raw weight on your subframe. While the physics matter, the real benefit is the lightness of mind it brings.

Every single item you pack is an item you have to manage, clean, secure, and worry about. When you pack heavy, you are carrying a massive cognitive load. But when you strip your gear down to the absolute essentials, that mental weight disappears.

You always know exactly what you have, at all times and where it is. You never have to second guess if you left something behind in a hostel room. Packing up your stuff in the morning takes 5 minutes. You aren’t forced to play a game of Tetris just to get your bags closed. Unpacking and repacking at border checks isn’t that much of a hassle anymore.

Ultimately, overpacking is driven by the "What If" fallacy. We pack out of fear of the unknown. What if I need a third layer? What if I need this specific tool? What if I want to dress nice for a restaurant? Minimalism is simply the act of trading that fear for trust. You trust that if a rare "what if" scenario actually happens, you will figure it out. You’ll buy a cheap sweater at a local bazaar, you’ll borrow a wrench from a village mechanic, or you’ll just eat your dinner in your uncool pants like the traveler you are.

The Two Exceptions to the “Less is More” Rule:

• Bike-Specific Spares: Always bring the parts that are notoriously hard to find for your specific machine (eg., clutch plates, spark plugs, specific oil filters). Waiting weeks for a DHL package to arrive in rural Tajikistan sucks.

• A Camp Chair: Dad brought a super light, compact Helinox-style folding chair, and I stubbornly did not. I was initially too snobbish about it, adhering to my minimalist ethos. But seeing him recline in his chair at the end of a 10-hour riding day, beer in hand, watching the sunset, while I had to choose between sitting upright or awkward side-lying in the dirt, got me insanely jealous. It’s the one piece of luxury I have officially been converted to.

Note: We don’t have a full packing list drawn up just yet, but I’ll write one eventually. Stay tuned.

3. Don’t Over-Plan Your Route

Unplanned things will happen.

Instead of a day-by-day itinerary, break your trip down into manageable “legs”, each roughly two weeks to a month long, anchored by a starting and ending city. Then, make a list of Points of Interest you’d like to see along the way, but leave the daily routing open. You’ll set your destination for the next day as the trip unfolds.

Why this approach works:

• Timing & Visas: If you have a hard end date for your trip, this keeps you somewhat on track. More importantly, it ensures you actually arrive at borders on time for visas that have strict entry dates. Having a mid term destination helps you get on the bike on those days you just don’t want to.

• Logistics: It helps you plan the big maintenance tasks in advance. Once you know you’ll be in Tbilisi in 8 weeks, you can order a fresh set of tires to a local shop, or even organize a weekend for friends to fly in and visit.

You effectively get the best of both worlds: the freedom and adventure you wanted, with the safety net of knowing you’re always in reach of a logistical hub.

Additionally, it’s also nice to have tracks like the TET downloaded for those days when you just don’t feel like playing explorer and want a guaranteed good route. In other places like the infamous Afghan Central Route or the Pamir Highway, there is only one road anyway.

But for the rest of the world, remember why you’re doing this: for the absolute freedom that motorbikes offer. Take advantage of it!

4. Dress to Protect the Adventure

Your riding gear is going to be your office, your living room, and your primary shelter for the next few months. If you have the budget to splurge anywhere, do it here. You’ll be spending most of your waking hours in the exact same pants, jacket, helmet, and boots, so make sure they are comfortable and up to the task. And beyond comfort, be well protected. Do not cheap out here or convince yourself you don’t need those stiff, expensive adventure boots or CE Level 2 pads.

Yes, good gear is about saving your life. But on a more practical level for a long-term traveler, it’s about protecting your trip. A broken arm or a shattered ankle probably won’t kill you, but it will keep you off the bike for months and send you on a miserable flight home. You want to avoid that at all costs.

When you ride for hours and hours, every single day, two very dangerous things happen:

1. You get deeply fatigued.

2. You get cocky.

Both of these lead to an increased risk of stupid, totally avoidable accidents. That’s just a fact of long-term travel. Furthermore, you might be the best, most attentive rider on earth who never makes a mistake, but the biggest danger will always be the other people on the road and you have zero control over them.

Bottom line: Anything that stops a minor tip-over or a high-speed slide from becoming a broken bone is a massive win.

5. Set a Budget

Everyone’s travel fund looks different, but it is absolutely crucial to have a set monthly allowance.

If you want a real-world baseline of how did it, check out the financial breakdown I wrote to see how we averaged roughly €700-800/month:

A budget is your best defense against on-the-road finances anxiety. Without one, you’ll likely start your adventure full of financial carelessness (which translates to pure joy in the moment) only to end up miserable, stressed, and counting pennies by month three. Having a set budget allows you to pace your splurges across the entire trip, giving you the confidence and peace of mind to know exactly how long you can sustain your adventure.

6. Cash is King, Redundancy is Key

Disclaimer: Our experience here is mostly based on the route from Bulgaria to Kazakhstan. Your mileage may vary in other regions of the world, but the underlying principles are universal.

We brought mostly US dollars, which obviously was necessary in places where cards are either heavily sanctioned (like Iran and Afghanistan) or where payment machines simply don’t exist, which is most places outside of cities. We brought Euros too, but most of the time USD were more welcome at exchange offices.

Here are some rules for travel cash:

• Bring crisp, new $100 bills: Many places in Central Asia straight-up refused to exchange smaller denominations or bills with creases and tears. If they did accept folded bills, they hit us with a hefty exchange fee. Keep your dollars flat and pristine. Also, I falsely assumed that bringing a stash of $1 bills would help me pay for small things and get me out of tricky situations. That might have been true 10 years ago, but most of Central Asia now only accepts payment in local currency (even Afghanistan!).

• Exchanging cash is cheaper than ATMs: Even if your Revolut or Wise card has zero foreign transaction fees, the local bank that owns the ATM will often charge you a withdrawal fee anyway. Those sometimes go up to 15%!

• “Black Market” exchanges: Don’t be afraid of exchanging on the street rather than in official exchange offices. Street exchangers sometimes have better rates/fees than the official ones. Just ask the locals or any hostel receptionist where they exchange. It is standard practice in some countries to exchange from their local volatile currency to a more stable one like the USD for savings, and these street exchanges handle a big part of that business. Watch out for scams though.

• Redundancy: Carry at least two different bank cards and stash them in separate bags. Do the same with your cash: distribute it across your luggage. If one bag gets lost, your trip doesn’t end. Also, VISA is far more widely accepted globally than Mastercard. If I had to choose, I’d take two VISAs rather than one of each. A mix of two VISAs and one Mastercard is probably the ultimate sweet spot.

• Bonus: Paying in cash makes it way easier to physically feel and track your monthly budget than mindlessly swiping a card.

7. The Community is your Best Friend (and Worst Enemy)

The motorcycle community is incredible for getting you out of trouble when you’re stuck or need a second opinion. But it also sometimes sucks, frankly, because of all the pseudo-experts out there. For any question you ask, you’ll get 1000 different answers from 1000 different schools of thought. It can leave you with more questions than you started with.

The takeaway? Take every piece of advice with a grain of salt. Try out whatever sounds most logical to you and see if it works. Remember, you are on an adventure. The obstacle is the way. That’s the beauty of long-term travel: it’s not like a one-week vacation where every hour has to be optimized so you don’t “waste” precious time. You have time to figure it out, so enjoy the ride.

Also, learn to ignore the negativity of these Facebook groups and forums. When I first left on my trip, I realized on day 2 that I had a faulty rear shock. I reached out on forums asking how to fix it, and the comments flooded in: “Why would you leave on such a big trip without checking your rear shock?? Are you dumb?” No, I’m not dumb! I simply didn’t know. I live in an apartment with no garage or workshop space, and I didn’t have the budget to pay a mechanic for a full pre-trip inspection. So no, I didn’t have the capacity to do a full rear shock inspection before leaving. Should that stop me from going on an adventure? NO! I took this faulty shock as part of the adventure, figured it out on the road, and then kept riding.

8. The Paperwork Hustle (Start Early)

Let’s be completely honest for a second. Everything else on this list? Negotiable. You can leave tomorrow with the wrong tires, a leaky tent, a subpar bike, and zero route planned, and you will figure it out on the fly. It might cause you some inconvenience or temporary discomfort, but it won’t stop you.

Paperwork is the only absolute, non-negotiable, hard stop to your adventure.

Border guards do not care about your “free spirit” mindset or how far you’ve ridden. If you show up to a crossing without the right piece of paper, the gate simply does not open. Screwing this up is a literal showstopper. It is the boring, unsexy part of adventure travel, but it is the one thing you absolutely must prep in advance.

Here are the big three:

• Visas: While many countries offer easy e-visas or visa-on-arrival nowadays, many others require you to apply weeks or even months in advance. Some require you to apply from your home country, while others require specific travel agencies to sponsor you. Know exactly which borders have strict entry requirements and plan your timeline around them.

• The Carnet de Passage en Douane (CPD): Most countries don’t need this but some do (eg., Iran, Egypt) and will not let your vehicle in without one. Think of this as the passport for your motorcycle. It proves to customs officials that you aren’t going to illegally import and sell your bike in their country. Getting one requires a hefty deposit and processing time through your local automobile club.

• Local Vehicle Insurance: You will often have to buy local third-party liability insurance at every new border once you exit Europe. It’s mostly cheap and easy, but make sure you stay informed of what you need in each country.

Other paperwork you should get sorted before you leave:

• Travel/Health insurance: These policies come in many different forms: some cover only your medical bills, while others cover medical repatriation and will even ship your broken bike back home. Whatever you get, make sure it’s a policy that can actually get you (and your bike) out of deep trouble. Knowing help can come get you if things go entirely sideways is priceless, and if you ever need it, it will pay for itself a hundred times over.

• International Driver’s Licence: This is essentially just a glorified, multi-language translation of your home license, but corrupt cops and border guards love it. Note: An IDP is legally useless on its own. You must carry your actual, physical domestic driver's license right alongside it.

• Original Vehicle Registration (Title / Carte Grise): Do not bring only a photocopy of this, and do not try to cross a border with a bike registered in your friend’s name unless you have a heavily notarized, officially translated power of attorney (and even then, it's a massive headache). You need the original document, in your name.

• Passport Validity & Blank Pages: People forget this one all the time. Almost every country requires your passport to be valid for at least 6 months after your intended date of departure. Furthermore, a long trip across many countries might eat up your passport pages fast between full-page visas and entry/exit stamps. Make sure you have plenty of completely blank pages left before you set off.

Pro Tip: Border officials love paper. Make multiple physical copies of your passport, driver’s license, international driving permit, vehicle registration, and your vehicle’s title. Stash them in different bags. Handing over a photocopy is always better than handing over your actual, irreplaceable passport to a corrupt official.

9. The Mighty To-do List

You’re almost ready to leave but still need one final sanity check. Fall back on a trick as old as time: the mighty to-do list. By splitting the prep into distinct buckets, the mountain of logistics suddenly turns into a series of very manageable, bite-sized tasks. Divide and Conquer. Open up whatever todo list solution you use (an app, Apple Notes, or pen and paper) and set up exactly these lists. Check them off one by one, and before you know it, your driveway is in the rearview mirror.:

• One Bike Prep List: (e.g., oil change, mount new tires, check chain)

• One Gear Prep List: Things you wear, sleep in, or use. (e.g., buy and test tent, pack tools, find merino socks)

• One List Per Country: The bureaucratic checkpoints. Make a mini-list for each specific country on your route. (e.g., Tajikistan border permit, Iran visa and CDP, download offline maps for Turkey).

• One General List: For stuff that doesn’t fit above (e.g., getting travel insurance, canceling your home internet, buying a power bank)

10. The Mental Prep

Remember: at some point, you have to stop preparing and actually do the thing.

I mentioned earlier that I lost weeks of my own trip just procrastinating over minor details. I was paralyzed by the illusion that there was a “perfect” way to prepare, constantly reading one more review, checking one more forum, or staring at a route map until my eyes blurred.

Here is the ultimate mental hack for trip prep: just make an executive decision and move on. Stop wasting precious mental energy over-analyzing a piece of gear when a big adventure is waiting for you. Take action. If you’re stuck on a detail, pick an option, close the laptop, and trust that you’ll figure the rest out and adapt on the road.

The small optimization you lose 2 weeks debating on now, is overshadowed 1000x by the experiences you’ll have everyday on the road, so don’t overthink it too much. The anxiety of the unknown is always worse from the comfort of your couch. But the moment you finally drop the clutch and pull out of your driveway, something magical happens: everything just flattens out.

The overwhelming monster of a trans-continental expedition simply shrinks down into your new, very manageable daily routine. You wake up. You ride. You find food. You find a place to sleep. You fix whatever minor thing broke that day. You have a beer. Repeat.

You will get tired. You will get lost. You will drop the bike. But that isn’t a ruined plan, that is the adventure. The obstacle is the way.

When you’re dreaming it up, everything feels abstract: gas, food, visas, repairs… they all sound small on their own, but somehow they add up. So we decided to share our numbers. Not to say “this is what it costs,” but rather “this is what it cost us.”

All numbers below are per person, even though we were two traveling, father and son, each on our own bike. Being two helped a bit here and there (splitting a loaf of bread, sharing a cooking pot, hotel rooms costs often being per room rather than per person), but most expenses remained individual. The prices are what I can recall — estimates, not audits — but they should give a solid idea of what you’d spend on a similar route. For context, we’re Swiss nationals living between Belgium and Switzerland, and the trip took place between May and August 2025.

TL;DR 💸

We spent around €750–850 per month per person, all included (except pre-trip costs like gear or documents).

According to Tricount, where we tracked expenses, we averaged €766/month, though that’s likely a bit low since we probably forgot a few things. Treat this as a good estimate, not an exact science.

Sleeping 🛏️

At the start, we had a plan: camp for three nights, then treat ourselves to a hostel for a day or two. On paper, it sounded great — riding through mountains, pitching our tent under the stars, then enjoying the pleasures of modern life: AC, kinda hot water, and somewhat clean sheets. A chance to catch up on blog posts, editing, and some Wi-Fi goodness. In reality, it didn’t quite hold up.

We slept for free about 40% of the time. That is, camping or being hosted by locals.

It wasn’t that we got lazy or soft. When we’re on motorcycles, both of us actually prefer camping when we can. It takes about fifteen minutes to set up camp, and after that, we get an amazing evening in nature. Going to a hotel, on the other hand, means finding one first, negotiating the price, checking if the parking is safe for the bikes, hauling our gear up from the street to the room, and then convincing ourselves that yes, we might as well do a quick laundry run while we’re at it. Sometimes, though, camping just didn’t make sense.

In Iran, for instance, a lot of what’s worth seeing is in the cities. We’d roll into Tabriz or Tehran after a long day on the road, and by then, the last thing we wanted was to ride another hour or two just to find a quiet field to sleep in. We’d rather stay close, in a small hostel with a shower, a roof, and maybe even Wi-Fi that half-worked, and spend the next day exploring mosques, tea houses, or just resting. Being in the country as the 12-day war unfolded also meant camping was a no-go. Though one night, on the road between Tehran and Mashhad, we did get invited to sleep at a local family’s place. One of those spontaneous moments that remind you why you travel in the first place.

Afghanistan was another story altogether. We spent about ten days there, and camping was simply not an option. Too many stories of travelers being “invited” by the Taliban to pack up their tents and sleep under supervision, which, in Afghan terms, means you’re not sleeping outside tonight. After days of rough roads and dust, we didn’t need more adventure than that. Guest houses and hotels were the only choice, as low quality and expensive as they were.

Other times, it was nature itself that made the call. Like the high-altitude plateaus of Song Kul in Kyrgyzstan or the town of Murghab in Tajikistan, where we spent three nights waiting for the weather to clear. We could have ridden on and “not wasted” those days, but we didn’t ride 10,000 km to do the Pamir Highway and Ak-Baital Pass just to see grey clouds. If we wanted fog, we’d have stayed in Belgium.

Either way, when we did pay for accommodation, it was rarely expensive. We feel at ease in hostels and shared dormitories. Throughout the trip, we averaged around €10 a night, often including breakfast: bread, eggs, tea, maybe a bit of cucumber. It was rare to pay more than €20, even in bigger towns. The exceptions were Turkey and Afghanistan, where prices crept closer to €15–20 per night.

Looking back, the mix felt right. The nights spent camping in silence, surrounded by the hum of insects, the faraway bark of a dog, or the too-close buzz of a mosquito, balanced out the hostel nights filled with travelers’ chatter, the clink of tea glasses, and the faint buzz of the AC unit.

If I did it again, I’d expect a similar balance, but I wouldn’t plan for one. If I feel like a hotel, I’ll take it. If I feel like camping, I’ll camp.

Food 🍔🌭🥦

We like to eat simply, we rarely went to a fancy restaurant and sticked to small local restaurants, small snack bars, or roadside cafés. Most days we had two meals out and a couple of teas or coffees.

Typical prices:

• Turkey, caucasus and Iran: €4–5 for a full plate (meat, rice, salad, bread, ayran)

• Central Asia: about €3 for a rice-and-meat dish

Add coffee, pastries, and the occasional beer in bigger cities.

When camping, we cooked ourselves: simple meals like rice + tomato paste + tuna, costing about €2-3/meal.

All in all we averaged around €8/day. If you’re on a tighter budget, you could definitely cut food costs even further.

Transport 🏍️💨

Fuel was one of our biggest, but also most predictable, expenses.
We each spent roughly €700 total for the entire trip — give or take (€600–800 is a fair prediction). Our old Suzuki DR650s averaged about 5L per 100 km (roughly 47 mpg), and across most countries, fuel cost less than €1 per litre. It was even (almost) free in Iran!

Other regular motorcycle costs looked like this:

• Engine oil: around €50 per month

• Repairs at local mechanics: €50–100 per month

• New tires: about €250 per pair

Once you leave Europe, mechanics become very affordable, and most workshops are happy to help travelers. Whenever we were near a town and had an issue, we’d stop and let the pros handle it — but we also carried tools, spare parts, and enough know-how to do our own repairs when needed (which happened more than once, usually somewhere remote).

We covered about 5,000 km per month, meaning fuel and maintenance easily made up roughly one-third of our total expenses.

If you’re doing a similar route on a bicycle or hitchhiking, you can expect your budget to shrink dramatically. This is the part of our spending that’s hardest to avoid with an engine.

(For local taxis, buses, or city rides, check the Miscellaneous section below.)

Miscellaneous 🤷‍♂️

All the small extras — entrance fees, hammams, taxis, sunscreen, gas canisters — stayed under €50–100/month on average.

SIM & Connectivity 📶

We mostly used local SIM cards, which cost around €10/month and only took 20 minutes to buy at a local shop.
Only in Turkey did we switch to eSIMs, since local SIMs were expensive for foreigners.

Pro tip: always buy SIMs in small convenience or phone shops rather than at airports — you’ll save a lot and avoid tourist markups.

Laundry 🧺

We usually did laundry at hostels, for about €1–2 per load, once or twice a week. It was cheap, easy, and a good excuse to take a break while waiting for it to dry.

City Transport 🚕

We mostly got around town using taxis when exploring cities. It cost us less than €5 per day, and being two people meant we could split the fare.
We could’ve used public transport, but since we rarely stayed more than a few days in each city, we preferred saving time over a couple euros.

Cash & ATMs 💵

We started the trip with about $2,000 USD each in cash, which we exchanged along the way. Cash exchanges were almost always cheaper (and more negotiable) than ATM withdrawals, which often came with high foreign transaction fees.

We paid by card whenever possible, Revolut worked great but make sure you have a couple of alternatives or some cash in case it’s refused.
In Iran and Afghanistan, card payments were impossible, but elsewhere, VISA cards were widely accepted (far more than Mastercard).

And surprisingly, we never had to pay a bribe the entire trip. We had one close call in Kyrgyzstan, but managed to talk our way out of it.

Pre-Trip Costs

Documents & Visas 📄

• Iran Carnet de Passage: €300

• Iran visa: €100

• Afghanistan visa + vehicle permit: €150

• Regional permits (Afghanistan/Tajikistan GBAO): ~€100

  • Some countries require you to have get a special permit to get into certain areas. Notably Afghanistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan.

• Motorcycle insurance (2–3 countries): ~€50

  • Some countries want you to buy a local insurance on arrival. These usually cost about 10€ for a month or even a year. Either way not very expensive.

Motorcycle & Gear 🏍️

• Motorcycle: ~€6900 (mine, with all parts). Dad’s was ~€4,000

• Luggage system (MoskoMoto Reckless 80L): €400

• Tank bag (Enduristan Sandstorm) : 200€

• Health Insurance + travel insurance: €300

• Riding gear (helmet, jacket, pants, gloves, boots, rain gear): €1,500

• Tools & spare parts: €300–500

Camping & Clothing 🏕️🥾

• Tent (used): €40

• Cooking gear (MSR, shared): €300

• Sleeping bag (Millet): €100

• Sleeping mat: €50

• Merino clothing: €150

• Pants & shorts: €100

• Fleece: €30

• Puffer jacket (bought in Turkey): €20

• Basic running shoes (used as daily shoe): €50

• Hat: €20

Electronics 📷💻

• Camera (Sony ZV1, used): €500

• MacBook Pro 14” M3 Pro (used): €1,100

• Pixel 8 (used): €400

• Old phone (used as GPS): free

• Power bank (anker 25000mah): €70

• Chargers & cables: €50

Final Thoughts

Riding from central Europe to Kazakhstan turned out far more affordable than most people (including us) imagine. For about €700–800 per month, we crossed a continent, ate well, slept decently, and experienced everything from the Turkish plateaus to the high Pamirs: deserts, chaos, border crossings, endless tea, and the kind of generosity that makes you rethink comfort.

If you’re planning something similar, it’s worth splitting the budget into two parts:

• Running costs: around €700 per month covers food, fuel, accommodation, and daily life on the road.

• Pre-trip costs: anywhere from €5,000 to €10,000, depending on how prepared you are, the bike being the biggest chunk.

So for a 100-day ride, you’re looking at roughly €10,000–15,000 total if you’re starting from absolute zero, or closer to €3,000–5,000 if you already have the bike and some essentials.

It’s not luxury. but it’s freedom. You trade plans for possibilities, comfort for connection, and routine for the unknown.
And for that price, it’s hard to think of a better deal.

Day 100 - So this is hard one: The last post! With the bike sold, all we could do was celebrate the trip and so we did. Just like the last time we were here eight years ago with Gion’s brother Len, we wrapped up the day with a visit to the Arasan Spa and then headed to Darejani for some delicious Georgian cuisine. 100 days on the road, 15,000 km traveled, and zero accidents is worth celebrating. We rode over the Alps and Dolomites in Europe, the Pontic Mountains in Turkey, the Lesser Caucasus in Georgia and Armenia, the Alborz Mountains in Iran, the Hindu Kush in Afghanistan, the Pamir Mountains in Tajikistan, and the Tien Shan mountains in Kyrgyzstan to finally reach our destination in Kazakhstan. We were fortunate. Many times over. A full brake and a sliding maneuver on the highway in Iran to avoid a car that suddenly turned left just in front of us, or a small child who ran into the street just ahead of us in Afghanistan could have ended very badly. In both cases, just centimeters separated us from a tragic accident. We also had a few falls that left us sore for days, but thankfully, we escaped without any broken bones. Many fellow motorcyclists weren’t as lucky; we followed their stories, and while they are luckily okay, they had to fly home for treatment and recovery before being able to continue their trip. Riding is risky, and the road can be deadly. We are grateful to be here enjoying this moment; someone must have been looking out for us. We also feel incredibly thankful to have been able to ride together as father and son team, most can only dream of that. And we have met so many amazing people who helped us along the way. People who fed us, took us in for the night, introduced us to their family, showed us the way, showed us their ways, learned us something about ourselves. Thank you, cheers, and here’s to new adventures soon!

Day 97 - I'm starting to feel quite sentimental now. It's our last night camping. The trip is nearly at its end. I'm not sure how I'll adjust to sleeping in a regular bed again. How will I resist the temptation to eat instant Ramen every single day? For THAT, I think I might have an idea. Seriously, after traveling for so long, it's tough to picture returning to normal life. It's hard to think about not seeing my eldest son every day. We haven't spent this much time together in ages. This trip has been a dream come true and a privilege for me to share all these moments and adventures with him. I need to come to terms with it. For our final camping night, Gion picked a stunning location that required us to ride for half an hour over rocky paths down to the Charyn river. It's one of those places we adore, far from the usual tourist spots. Every action, from setting up the tent to lighting the fire to preparing the gas cooker and water for dinner, has become second nature after all these months. We decided to cool the cans of beer in the cold river and enjoyed a chill last evening at this gorgeous spot.

Day 98 - We made it to Almaty and checked into another hostel. The good part is that the top bunk beds come with curtains, the bad is that there are ten blokes sharing the room and the air conditioning is broken. For a second, I think we should have treated ourselves to one of Almatys luxe hotels this time, but then I remember that the money is better spent .. on Aperol Spritz for example. But first on the agenda is to clean the bikes and get them ready for the next adventure - more to that later - and then we’ll head to one of Almaty’s super trendy coffee spots to enjoy the comforts of civilization again. So, the jam-packed plan for today: bike cleaning and flat whites. And as attentive reader you already know, we haven’t showered in a few days, so that goes without saying. Still, I feel a bit nostalgic here knowing that the endless circle of dust and dirt comes to an end, as much for my motorcycle as much for us. When I took my sweat soaked, dirt drenched and stain covered motorcycle gear off for the last time, a tear of sadness rolled down…, well, almost.

Day 94 - I love Kazakhstan for this. The open landscapes are just breathtaking. I’m less thrilled though as I know as it’s our last country and feeling a bit nostalgic as the trip is winding down. In just a couple of days, we’ll be in Almaty, getting ready for our flight back home. The weather is still stormy and rainy, so we decide to skip the mountains and check out the plains instead. After a fantastic breakfast (American style at Altyn Dan in Kegen, which was a nice change), we pass by the lower mountains and pass at Temirlik. Instead of heading straight into the Charyn plain, we take an off-road route to explore some hills left and right. Need to enjoy every movement now off the tarmac! The photos should really tell the story; we spend at least half an hour just watching the weather change and soaking in the views of the plain. This is going to be the main theme for our last few days: the brown, grey, sandy, rocky mountains and canyons, the steppe, and desert-like plains - and if the weather opens up the views from time to time, the white peaks of the Tien Shan mountains when looking south.

Day 95 - Here are a few photos taken in the plains near the Charyn Canyon area. We visited Kazakhstan eight years ago (with 4x4 and trekking) to explore the stunning Altyn Emel National Park, and these views resonate with us the most in this region. At that time, I dreamed of riding through Kazakhstan on my own motorcycle, and now here we are. We’ve been driving for hours across these plains, zooming past forgotten villages and scenes that look like they’re straight out of a movie. For whatever reason it is, these open views calm my mind.

Day 90 - Here are some more shots from our camping spot at Issyk Kul in Kyrgyzstan. We collected enough wood to start a fire on the beach and take in the beautiful scenery. Later that night, a storm rolled in, giving us a view of the lightning below while the stars shined above the clouds. An hour later, the storm hit us hard with strong winds, lightning, and rain. It’s always a terrifying in the tent when the wind howls and the rain comes down hard. Snuggled in my sleeping bag, I use to count the seconds between the flash that lights up the tent and the thunder to figure out the storm's path and certainly to determine when it finally passed and the time between the light and the thunder stretches out again.

Day 91 - Other than the occasional hostels, this has become my home. Setting up camp takes about 15 minutes, packing up requires around 30, easy. The tent, the Nemo Osmo Dragonfly Bikepack, is designed for 2 people, yet it still packs down super small and light. I utilise the extra space inside to store all my gear, except for my boots. I have my helmet, knee pads, riding jacket, pants, and my Alpinestars A10 protective shell inside. The tent itself was fantastic, but the packing bag was too small, making it a hassle to fit the tent back inside. After two months, the bag tore, but fortunately, it was stored in my pannier bag as a second layer rather than on the bicycle's handlebars as intended. I sleep on a Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Xlite NXT sleeping pad, which is thick enough for side sleeping and provides excellent insulation even in bitterly cold conditions. It's such a joy compared to the thin, layered sleeping pads I've used over the past few years. My sleeping bag is a Sea to Summit Spark Pro, which packs down incredibly small and keeps me warm below freezing, yet remains comfortable in the heat of Central Asia. I absolutely love it. Gion uses a similar setup but one man tent only. My entire setup is honestly more comfortable than 95% of the hostel beds I've slept in. I prefer sleeping in my tent rather than listening to five other guys snoring and stepping over their stinky socks to get to my bed. But man needs to shower from time to time, and that's just how it is.

Day 91 - After we packed up at our fantastic lakeside spot, we took a little break in the sand before continuing our journey along the south shore of Lake Issyk Kul towards Karakol. Gion’s back wheel spun, and just 10 seconds later, half of the bike was buried in the sand. The first step is to take off the luggage, and the second is to clear the sand around the bike. There’s no way to just ‘ride’ the bike out of this sand. The only option is to wiggle the bike left and right until we can lay it down, turn it to get it out of the hole, and then lift it back onto the flat sandy surface and ride off slowly. After 30 minutes and a lot of cursing, we’re finally on our way.

Day 92 - After nearly two weeks in Kyrgyzstan, we are heading to our final destination, Almaty in Kazakhstan. We have covered at this point almost 15,000 km in the saddle, and it feels quite surreal to think that these could be the last days of our journey. We have accomplished our goals, traveling from Belgium and Switzerland to the border of China via one of the legendary motorcycle routes, the Pamir Highway, and it's time to accept that this adventure may soon come to an end. But not so fast. We traveled through Kazakhstan eight years ago and loved every moment. And we expect nothing less this time around, Kazakhstan has a special vibe to it. As soon as we crossed the border, we were welcomed by its vast open spaces that I adore so much.

Day 86 and 87 - Here are some shots from our journey driving from Kyzyl-Oi to Bishkek. The road was mostly compressed dirt, often wet from the rain last night, but still drivable fast. Along the route, we passed through villages like Komjokul that still exude that Soviet vibe. If we didn’t know we were in Kyrgyzstan, we might think we were riding through villages along the Kolyma Highway, aka the Road of Bones, somewhere in Siberia on our way to Magadan. In fact, that could inspire a new trip! Meanwhile, we hit the pavement again as we ride over the Too-Ashuu pass towards Bishkek. We check into a hostel here, enjoy a couple of beers, take a shower, and decide to stay for a day before starting our final leg along Issy-Kul lake on our way to Kazakhstan.

Day 89 - Getting out of bed can be a challenge sometimes, especially when the bed is as cozy as the ones we experienced in the hostel in Balykchy. Our ride has been quite uneventful - well, aside from the fact that I was pulled over for speeding by a mobile police patrol… - but we made our way to Balykchy and decided to call it a night early as the rain began to fall, and we definitely didn’t want to set up our tents in the wet weather. We have not had rain since probably Armenia. I woke up early to go grab some of the first croissants and yogurt we’ve had in what feels like forever. Once Gion finally got out of bed, we enjoyed our breakfast and prepared to ride along the southern edge of Issyk Kul lake.

Day 84 - Some days of riding are simply about getting from point A to point B, but today was quite the opposite. The views were absolutely breathtaking. We traversed through deep valleys, gaining more elevation until we finally reached the summit of the Kara-Koo pass at 3600 meters. This pass is located in the Tian Shan mountain range, and its name translates to "Black Valley," which reflects its stunning natural features. The rocky cliffs surrounding the area cast deep shadows, adding an air of mystery and dramatic beauty. The road over the pass is known as Kyrgyzstan's most scenic route, and it's easy to see why. Once we descended into the valley below, we followed sandstone-colored rock formations until we arrived at Jangy-Talap. We refueled and enjoyed lunch before heading north, climbing steeply through picturesque mountain scenery reminiscent of Switzerland towards the Moldo Ashuu pass, again high up at 3300 m. And then, everything transforms. The views open up for kilometers and kilometers, revealing only green pastures, yurts, and thousands of sheep, horses, and cows, all surrounded by lush hills and mountain peaks. It feels a bit like being on another planet, I imagine Mars, but in green. We are at an altitude of 3000 m and soon arrive at Song-Kul, where we will spend the night in a yurt.

Day 84 - Song Kul. We are finally reaching the Song-Kul plateau, and although the lake isn't visible yet, the scenery is absolutely stunning. On one side, we have the pass we just rode up, and on the other, the vast plateau. This is my second visit here, and just like the first time, it never fails to take my breath away. For me, it's one of those magical places on earth. Perhaps I just have a soft spot for wide-open spaces. And here, there's an abundance of it—a vast expanse of emptiness. Aside from the pastures and animals, all you see are the rolling hills and the dirt path that winds down towards Song-Kul lake, which sits at an altitude of 3000 meters. Time to ride down and find a place to sleep.

Day 84 - Here are some shots from our camp at Song-Kul. It gets chilly quickly up here, and we settled into a cozy little yurt camp for the night. The camp was also home to a cow, lots of horses, and a lively young sheep that kept running around everyone baaa’ing. Imagine your new baby dog you just got; it was just like that. We soon discovered that the young sheep is great friends with the white stallion, and we enjoyed watching them play all evening before being served Kuurdak, the traditional Kyrgyz potatoes and mutton. After dinner, we checked to see if our little lamb was still around and are pleased to say it didn’t end up on our plate.

Day 85 - Rain fell overnight, but the skies cleared up quickly, revealing a beautiful crystal clear view. We set off on the trail, primarily riding on dirt and gravel paths across the plateau as we descended the Kara Keche pass, located to the west of the lake. We traversed the valley on endless stretches of fast-driving washboard piste before making our way back up to Kyzyl-Oi for camping. On days like this, we cover 150 km of off-road dirt track riding over plateaus and through valleys, exploring some of Kyrgyzstan's most stunning landscapes. We feel a total sense of freedom. At least until when the mosquitoes began to eat our very bodies at the camp later that night. We started a camp fire, creating plenty of smoke to ward off these agressive vampires. Our reasoning was that smoky clothes were a small price to pay on our already sweat-soaked and stinky garments, but it effectively kept the mosquitoes at bay. And it did.

Day 81 - I haven't felt it since we first started discussing the idea. But that's how it goes. We decided to tackle this mountain pass that should lead us to the beautiful Toktogul Reservoir. The only issue is that we lack route descriptions, just a faint line on our paper map indicating a very narrow and steep path. It's more of a horseback trail than a proper pass. Not the type of route your do with a heavy adventure motorcycle. In any way, we decided to give it a try. We ride for two hours into the valley, which is absolutely breathtaking, all off-road, navigating rocky paths and numerous river crossings. A few small falls here and there, but nothing too serious kept us alert. When we started climbing deep in the valley, it was too late for me to realize that the path was too steep, too rocky, and simply beyond my skill level. I fell twice on the steep climbs, unable to put my foot down when the bike stalled due to the incline. My head hit the rocks on the ground, but thankfully I was wearing a good helmet. Gion managed the climbs better and took over my bike in the sections that were too much for me. Until, that is, we noticed that my clutch was no longer functioning properly about halfway up. I engaged the gear, released the clutch, and... nothing. The clutch was burned out, and the bike wouldn't move anymore. A) We didn't make it to the top of the pass b) we had a heavy motor repair to tackle and c).. well, it just sucked and it was blood hot. I was not in good mood. Fortunately, the path was steep, and I had no trouble rolling back down to the end of the valley where we found a farmer and his family who allowed us to repair the bike on their property. We opened the motor, replaced the clutch plates, and reassembled everything. Luckily, when you lay these old bikes down, the oil flows to the other side, allowing you to fix the clutch without losing or changing the oil. 2 hours of work with the horses, cows and farmers kids keeping us company - and the bike was up and running again! By now, it was too late to leave, and the family invited us for dinner and allowed us to camp. We had a wonderful time experiencing Kyrgyz farming life up close.

Day 82 - We woke up to the sight of cows and horses all around us, with everyone already busy with their tasks. The kids closely followed their father, observing and learning at every turn. As we packed up the camp, we heated some water for our 3-in-1 morning coffee. By 9 am, after finishing our coffee, the family had already completed shoeing the horse and catching a sheep, while the riders prepared to lead the herd to the pastures with their horses and dogs. We opted to ride down the valley we have come up yesterday, deciding against attempting that pass again. We made an early stop in Jalal-Abad for coffee and lunch, and chose to spend the night there.

Day 75 - cont. After a brief stop in Karakul village for some coffee, we decide to continue our journey and cross the border into Kyrgyzstan. We keep riding alongside the border fence with China, which is just a few kilometers away. We exit at the Tajik border post of Kyzyl Art, at an altitude of 4,206 meters. The procedure is simple, it takes us only 30 minutes without any issues. At this moment, we find ourselves not in Kyrgyzstan, but in the no-man's land between Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan. The term "no-man's land" describes the area situated between the border checkpoints of the two countries, a 20 km stretch of land where neither authorities hold jurisdiction. It serves as a security buffer zone, similar to the one that exists between Tajikistan and China.

Day 75 - cont. After leaving the Tajik border post, the Pamir Highway descends sharply along a muddy dirt path. Fortunately, the weather is dry; it would be quite challenging to navigate this area in the rain. Half an hour later, having descended a thousand meters, we arrive at the Kyrgyz border post. The gates swing open, and we find ourselves in the Switzerland of Central Asia. The scenery and atmosphere shift instantly, with the earthy browns, greys and reds of the rugged mountains and rock of Tadjikistan giving way to lush green pastures. Looks like Grindelwald here thinks me. In the plains, we spot the first yurt’s and pass by herds of yaks. Really the only difference to Switzerland thinks me again. Along with Sal and Ethan, who have traveled the same route today, we decide to set up camp in a breathtaking location on the wide open plain, with views of the Pamir mountains and Peak Lenin, this time from the Kyrgyz side. The panorama is incredible; it’s easy to see why the Pamir Mountains are called the "Roof of the World." We pitch our camp without any mosquitoes and prepare ourselves some well-deserved ramen.

Day 76 - We rise to a clear sky and a breathtaking view of the Pamir mountain range. It’s truly magical; it’s hard to put into words the feeling of opening the tent door and being welcomed by such a sight. The earth is an incredible place to inhabit. I am more convinced than ever that we reside on the most beautiful planet in the solar system, just trust me on this. We brew some coffee to toast to this realization. Nescafé that is. As I put on my endure knee braces sitting on my lightweight camping chair, I take one last look at Peak Lenin before we all set off towards Osh, Kyrgyzstan. On our journey, we come across the first herds of horses, and they certainly won’t be the last we encounter. They create a stunning scene against the backdrop of the white peaks. Indeed, I pause every five minutes to snap another photo and express officially my gratitude to Gion for his patience with such photographic behaviour all along the trip. After two hours and a few food breaks along the way, we arrive at Park Hostel in Osh, where Gion and I venture out for beers and burgers to celebrate the successful completion of our third leg, the Pamir Highway from Dushanbe, Tajikistan to Osh, Kyrgyzstan. I dreamed to ride Pamir Highway since every I ride adv motorcycles and it’s a strange feeling suddenly being in Osh and ticking this one off the list.

Days 77-79. After all the beers yesterday, we ended up waking up late at 10 am. We made our way into Osh, where we found a neo-soviet building housing a trendy coffee shop for breakfast. The rest of the day was spent writing our blog and editing photos. Osh will be our service stop for the next two or three days, giving us time to prepare for the final leg of our journey from Osh, Kyrgyzstan to Almaty, Kazakhstan. Gion also needed a new battery for his bike, and I required a new one for my phone. Easy done here in the Bazar at $25 within 60 minutes. Love the efficiency. Osh turned out to be a fun city to stay in; the Central Asian equivalent of Uber here is Yandex, affordable, easy and quick to get around. And after our time in Iran and Afghanistan, we appreciated the simple pleasures of life, like withdrawing cash from an ATM or paying with a bank card. Although it’s less cool than exchanging our dollars at gold shops and walking away with a paper bag full of cash like we did in Iran, or rolling down the back window of our taxi to hand over dollars for cash in a street exchange in Kabul, being back to using plastic money suits us just fine at this point. And local beer as well.

Day 74 - Our intention was to ride to the Chinese border today, but instead, we found ourselves staying in bed. The weather is worse than it was yesterday, making it a waiting game. It feels somewhat like being at a high-altitude base camp, just waiting for the weather to clear up. And that’s exactly what we did. China can wait; after all, we can’t enter with our bikes, so reaching the border zone is as far as we can go. It’s more of a mental milestone to have reached the Chinese border from Belgium, having traveled nearly 15,000 km across some of the world’s toughest roads and most perilous countries. In the meantime, we enjoy another sip of 3-in-1 Nespresso and take another nap. That will have to do for now. There’s no internet up here, so coffee, reading and sleeping is a good as it gets. Tomorrow is expected to be a better day.

Day 75 - We have finally made it! After traveling 13,425 km, we have reached the highest point of our journey, the Ak-Baital pass along the Pamir Highway. This high mountain pass stands at an impressive elevation of 4,670 m (15,321 ft) above sea level, situated in the Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Region of Tajikistan. At this elevation, it was the highest road pass in the former Soviet Union. We are thrilled that we decided to wait out the bad weather in Murghab, allowing us to see the peaks today, even covered with a few clouds. Surrounding us is a breathtaking high alpine landscape, with mountain ranges as high as 6,000 meters. We spent some time at the pass with fellow motorcyclists and cyclists (I am truly amazed by how many cyclists make it up here, literally defying gravity as they pedal thousands of meters uphill…) before we began our descent towards the stunning steppe plains surrounding Karakul Lake.

Day 75 - continued. We make our way down the Ak-Baital pass along the Tadjik-Chinese border heading towards Karakul. The road is rough, hard mud and gravel. Upon reaching a steppe plain at approximately 4000 m altitude, we catch our first glimpse of Lake Karakul, appearing as a beautiful blue stripe on the horizon. Karakul Lake is a high-altitude, endorheic lake situated here in the Pamir Mountains of Tajikistan. It is believed that the lake basin was formed by a meteor impact millions of years ago. The area surrounding the lake, apart from Karakul village, is a deserted steppe, a paradise for off-road enthusiasts. In the distance, we can see the white top of Peak Lenin, which stands at 7134 m, making it the tallest mountain in the Trans-Alay range of the Pamir Mountains. Although it would have been delightful to spend another day exploring around the lake, the numerous mosquitoes here (they are the biggie size type) make it less appealing to set up camp. Therefore, we choose to press on towards the border instead of being eaten alive for dinner.

Day 71 River crossing - A tricky moment in the Wakhan valley is crossing the river just after Langar when moving east to west. It's usually recommended to cross in the morning when the river has significantly less water, but we decided to attempt the crossing at 3 pm since we wanted to avoid camping there. We reduced the weight of our bikes to make them less likely to tip over and carried most of our equipment across the river on foot. After assessing the depth and the best route, we took the plunge and successfully got both bikes across the river without any falls. Ethan and Sal, whom we had met earlier, confirmed that the river had much less water the following morning when they crossed around 9 am with their Hondas.

Day 71 - Camp. That evening, we pitched our camp at the base of stunning brown-reddish mountains, just a few meters from the river, with Afghanistan visible on the opposite side. With the weather being super dry over the last weeks, we managed to gather enough wood to start a campfire and prepare our classic dinner of rice with tuna, which has become a staple on our journey here in the Pamir mountains. The high altitude of the camp at 3500 meters made every movement more challenging, so we decided to turn in early at 8 pm for a long and much-needed rest.

Day 72 - The gentle tapping of rain on our tents stirred us awake around 7 am, prompting us to quickly pack up before the rain intensified. We hadn’t encountered rain during our travels in Iran and Afghanistan, making this experience feel almost unfamiliar. Of course, my riding boots were still soaking wet from yesterday's river crossing and there’s nothing quite like slipping your feet into cold, damp boots first thing in the morning. A great start. To keep my feet somewhat warm at this altitude I changed my socks three times during our ride, which kind of worked. After we handed out our last passport copy to the Tadjik soldier, we passed the checkpoint to exit the Wakhan valley and leave the Hindu Kush and Afghanistan behind us. The Khargush Pass is a high mountain pass at 4319 meters above sea level connecting the Wakhan Valley with the Pamir Highway. As we descended from the sandy paths of the pass, we were met with endless kilometres of washboard tracks. The experience felt like cycling for hours over cobblestones, shaking both riders and machines to their limits. Luckily the ordeal was over an hour later, exiting the Kahrgush Valley to rejoin the Pamir Highway.

Day 72 cont. - After navigating the washboard section and enduring heavy rain, we desperately needed a break and a hot meal. We're back on the Pamir Highway, where most of the road is easily drivable tarmac here. What a relief after spending days on some of the toughest roads out here. The plateau is breathtaking, even in the rainy weather, and we took some detours off the tarmac onto dirt roads and open terrain just for fun. I felt an incredible sense of freedom as I rode towards distant peaks on this high mountain plateau covered with dirt, sand, and small bushes. Standing up on the bike and soaring towards the horizon was simply exhilarating. Eventually, the M41 guided us to Murghob, where we checked into the Guesthouse Aruf, greeted by the smile of its super friendly owner. "Lentil soup? Chicken?" Yes, please.

Day 70 - Our day began with a refreshing soak at the Garam Chashma hot springs. Since we hadn't had a shower since departing Dushanbe, this much-needed cleanup was a delight. The natural hot spring water is also healthy for the skin. Men and women alternate every hour in the bath, so we found ourselves sharing the large natural hot tub with about two dozen naked Tadjiks. No comment. So: As we traveled south, the valley became narrow, rocky, and rugged. After about an hour, the valley curved eastward and opened up to a wide plateau, with Tadjikistan on our left and Afghanistan on our right, divided by the now broad river. As we had observed earlier in our journey, the Afghans utilize the river for irrigating their farmland, resulting in villages nestled in lush green areas along the riverbanks. The scenery is topped by the snowy peaks of the Afghan and Pakistani mountain systems. The road was predominantly gravel, often rough to navigate, interspersed with sandy sections and large stones. While not technically challenging, it was sure tiring to ride. The great views made up for it.

Day 70 cont. - Here are additional photos from the incredible drive through Wakhan Valley, where the Afghani villages are beautifully situated in the vibrant green pastures between the border river and the mountains. Tadjik military observation posts were placed every 500 meters, and we managed to peek through one of them to see what a Tadjik soldier would see of Afghanistan while observing the Afghanistan behind the stone walls.

Day 70 cont. - You rarely ride solo, and this time we encountered fellow adventure riders Sally and Ethan on our journey into the Wakhan valley, heading in the same direction. They come from Seattle in the US, have been on the road for over a year, and are riding their classic Honda 600R’s starting from Cape Town, traversing Africa and now making their way into Central Asia. Their next goal is to cross China to reach Southeast Asia. What an adventure, right? We’d call it bad ass! They are not just a lovely couple, but also incredibly humble about their accomplishments. And they show to everyone that real adventures are still out there. You just have to set out and make it happen.

Day 70 - Camping. We tackled the trail with enthusiasm; the flat gravel allowed us to pick up some speed, and before long, we discovered an ideal camping location high in the Wakhan valley, near the Bibi Fatimo hot springs (thanks, iOverlander app). Our campsite offered stunning views of the valley below, the towering peaks of Pakistan, the Wakhan Corridor, and the border river that divides Afghanistan from Tajikistan. Earlier, we had purchased food and water in the village, and we prepared our signature dish of melted cheese and bread while soaking in the beautiful scenery.

Day 67 - Pamir Highway. This has been a dream of mine for years, ever since I stumbled upon an article about this mystical road that only the bravest adventurers dare to travel (slight exaggeration alert). About a decade ago, the kids and I had this plan to rent a 4x4 and hit this road, but life got in the way. So when Gion and I were searching for a route, this one popped back into our minds, besides the Road of Bones in Siberia, another one still on the list. In short, after over 11’000 km of riding through some of the most unexplored roads in this planet, we are finally… at the beginning. The legendary Pamir Highway, officially known as the M41, is the second highest international road in the world, right after the Karakorum Highway. It starts in Dushanbe and ends in Osh, Kyrgyzstan. The route is reaching pleateaus of heights between 3,000 – 3,500m, and then climbs even higher to 4,655m at the famous Ak-Baital pass. This road is “naturally” rough and is a haven for “off-road” enthusiasts, but it also suffers from landslides, earthquakes, avalanches, and overflowing rivers. Excited, we leave Dushanbe on the M41, which is still relatively tame and paved for about 150 km, as we kick off our first day on the Pamir Highway. Before long, the road turns unpaved again, climbing through lush green valleys alongside rivers to a plateau around 1500m. Calling it a “highway” is a bit of a stretch; in Belgium, we’d probably label what we’re driving on as a mountain or forest road, barely passable without a four-wheel drive. Here, truckers with balls of steel, see no issue passing it with their flatbeds. We ascend the slopes and set up camp for the night at the Khaburabot pass, which sits at 3200m. It still looked like it could be somewhere in the French Maritime mountains, so we’re curious about when the Pamir mountains will make their appearance.

Day 68 - Afghanistan! We missed you. Kind of. Now, we see it across the river as the Pamir Highway takes us into day two, running along the Tajik-Afghan border. The Pyanj River, stretching 921 km, serves as a natural divider between the two nations. On one side, we spot the typical Afghan villages and the white flag of the by the international community largely unrecognised Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan, while on the Tajik side, we make our way through the rough gravel and sand of M41. The border is heavily patrolled by armed Tajik soldiers with natural stipend shooting positions every 500 m or so allowing a clear view on Afghanistans green villages and mountain peaks. And on the Taliban. We carry 10 copies of our passports, the Tajik visa extension that lets us stay for up to 30 days, and the GBAO permit that allows us to enter the Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Region. At each major Tajik checkpoint, we hand a copy to the soldiers, who let us pass after inspection of said copy. The mountains are becoming more majestic, with seemingly vertical walls leading to snowy peaks as we follow the river deeper into the Central Asian mountains. The route has turned rough, it’s like driving on a washing board, and we're only managing to make an average speed of 30 km/h in order not to put too much strain on our forks and bikes. And on ourselves for that matter. We set up camp in a beautiful spot right at the road junction towards the Bartang Valley. Initially, we planned to ride up the valley, but we've been told that it's closed due to too many impassable river crossings this season. Time for rest. I'm wiped out; 10 hours of riding have taken their toll. I hit the sack at 8 PM and wake up at 7 AM, feeling like the 11 hours of sleep was just about the bare minimum I need to keep going. I've been blaming my digestive system acting up for days now. The dry biscuits and electrolyte-rich water I've been sticking to lately to give my gut a break don't seem like the best nutrition for handling the daily abuse we take. Welcome to Central Asia, where sky-high mountains and hard-hitting gastro problems go hand in hand.

Day 61 - We set off early to head north towards Kunduz, which is just a few hours away from the Tadjik border that we plan to reach tomorrow. Most of the 345 km stretch is still gravel, even up the Kaoshan pass. We ride through the darkness of the Saolang tunnel at 3400m, navigating through the Hindu Kush mountains, and then bask in the full midday sun as we descend to the low plains and continue on to Kunduz. The temperature down here has soared to a sweltering 46 degrees Celsius, and we felt like we were being cooked in our motorcycle gear. Goulasch, kind of. Riding in such heat for a grueling ten hours requires stops every 30 minutes… once for water in and then again for after out… kind of. We were relieved to arrive in Kunduz by 20h00 and decided to call it a night in our air-conditioned room. Well, at least until 22h00. "These gentlemen want to talk to you." Déjà vu? Two Taliban entered, sat down, and spent about an hour going through all our gear, baggage, counted our cash. We had to bring out ALL the remaining luggage we had left on the motorcycles. To say we were thrilled with the experience would be an understatement. The gentlemen were from the Bamyan Intelligence. A drone had been spotted there a few days ago, and they were determined to track down the tourist responsible. Drones are not allowed in Afghanistan, understandably. Around 23h30, they apologized for the "inconvenience," and we packed up and went to sleep. It was definitely a smart move to leave our drone and satellite phones at home before starting this trip, considering the interrogations we faced in Iran and now here.

Day 62 - "Welcome to Tadjikistan," said the Tadjik captain with a friendly grin after we crossed the Amu Darya river at the Shir Khan border point. Russkiy? No, Swiss, we replied, realizing we were back in an ex-SSR. We loaded our bikes in Kunduz at 7:00 AM, had some fried eggs and bread, and headed to the border. We absolutely loved Afghanistan. But we really needed a break after the long ride and the rough off-road tracks. In Afghanistan, there’s no such thing as a break. After 10 hours in the saddle, you sit on the hard floor to eat. There are no chairs anywhere around. You’ll only find cold showers or a nearby stream to clean up. Electricity is either nonexistent or available only between 8 PM and 10 PM. You have to squat, and forget about toilet paper. Often, a hand gesture pointing to the nearest trees is the best you can get asking for a restroom. You’ll sleep on rugs or hard beds without a mattress. You always wake up by the sun at 5 AM because you either sleep outside or in a room without curtains. Due to all this, you soon look like a zombie due to lack of shut-eye. There’s no cold beer to ease the back pain from last night or wash the sand out of your throat. You eat with your hands, or at best, with a spoon and fork. But you also get a smile, a genuine and warm welcome, and everyone is always willing to help. You’ll find that washing your hands, face, and feet in the local sink is often all you need to feel refreshed. We realize that a sincere smile and sharing bread mean more than a soft bed. Still, we hope that in Dushanbe, we can enjoy an ice-cold beer over some burgers. Inshallah. We love you, Afghanistan.

Day 57 evening - We were incredibly fortunate that night; the warmth of one person's hospitality turned it into an unforgettable evening here in central Afghanistan. Ali spends the summer months here with his family, allowing the sheep to graze. Chickens are running around everywhere, the cow is next door, and the neighbours Labrador is playing with the old sheepdog. Just as the sun sets, numerous herds of sheep come down from the mountains, guided into the barns by the women and children. Ali's family lives here with twelve other families in the simplest of traditional homes made from mud and grass bricks. There’s no electricity or running water. We're at an altitude of 3000 meters, and after we had a tea and chat, Ali warms up the family room where we eat and sleep. He uses fuel pellets made from animal manure in the stove in the middle of the room. Before long, it becomes super cozy and warm. We have dinner on traditional rugs spread out on the floor and sleep on toshaks, which are floor cushions or narrow mattresses commonly used as beds or sofas here in Afghanistan. Two layers of heavy blankets keep us snug and warm; we haven't slept this well in ages. Before we say goodbye, we take some pictures with the family. Ali rides his son on a motorcycle for 30 minutes to the nearest village for school, and we ride off to Band e Amir National Park.

Day 58 - The journey from Ali's home to Band e Amir was absolutely amazing. We climbed to altitudes of up to 3600 m and then descended into lush green valleys that looked like a blend of Utah and Kazakhstan. It’s a beautiful mix of rolling dune-like hills, towering mountains, and striking rock formations. The colors shift from red to yellow to grey to white. In the valleys, you can find villages with traditional brownish homes and vibrant green fields. It feels like cruising through an open-air nature museum. The views are stunning, with charming villages positioned neatly on the valley flanks, with blue stream winding through the green fields. It’s hard to ignore the impact of 30 years of war here, leaving behind a lot of sorrow. Development has come to a standstill. On the bright side, the villages are still in their original state, likely unchanged for centuries. The absence of paved roads while driving through central Afghanistan means that commerce and progress are lacking, but it also helps preserve the peace, traditions, and sustainable way of life.

Day 59 - Bandar e Amir is the first national park in Afghanistan aimed at showcasing and preserving the stunning beauty of a series of vibrant blue lakes formed by natural dams in the Hindu Kush. We kicked off the morning by exploring the lakes on a pédalo - believe it or not, the Taliban are starting to promote tourism here - and then we cruised through the incredible landscape, uncovering more of this awe-inspiring spot. The pédalo adventure was quite a scene, as armed Taliban soldiers don’t really blend in with the tourists from Kabul enjoying their Pédalos. Plus, some of the soldiers looked eager to snap a few photos with their AK 47 against the gorgeous backdrop. So, that’s how it went. Surreal to say the least. We then set off towards Bamyan, crossing the plateaus that offered breathtaking views of the lakes and the surrounding Hindu Kush mountain ranges.

Day 55 - Both bikes were down on the ground. I lost my footing while navigating a rut on a steep climb, and Gion’s bike toppled over when he tried to lend a hand. My front end was misaligned and needed adjustment. Not a big deal. However, Gion’s bike wouldn’t start anymore due to the floated carb. And now his battery was drained from repeated starting attempts. That’s not ideal in the Afghan mountains. Besides: Also not optimal is that we need a sanitary stop every 30 minutes, Afghani food hygiene has done its thing by now. Ok. Fortunately, we managed to roll the bike down the hill where we remembered spotting a small motorcycle shop just 15 minutes earlier. And that’s exactly what we did. The shop was perfectly located, just for us. The team there handled both our problems, and we were back on the road. It’s a good thing there are probably hundreds of thousands of small motorcycles riding around here, so finding knowledgeable mechanics is easy. The all know how to repair old bikes as ours. The terrain became tougher to navigate, but it also grew more stunning. Flat plains and riverbeds gave way to gorgeous mountain ranges and winding roads. Once again, we rode into the midday sun and stopped at a small shop that let us rest for two hours. We were completely wiped out and overheated. We literally dozed off in the back of the shop on a rug, but the siesta worked its magic. Back on our bikes, we headed towards on our final destination for the day, the famous Minaret of Jam, a UNESCO World Heritage site here in Afghanistan.

Day 55 - evening. We made it to the Minaret just in time for sunset. Standing at 65m tall, it dates back to the 12th century and is nearly untouched. The scenery is breathtaking, nestled in a deep river valley surrounded by towering mountains. The Taliban, as impressive as they are said to be, are the ones guarding the site. They greeted us warmly and helped us transport our gear over the ropeway bridge from the trail to the Minaret, and letting us sleep beside it at the checkpoint. The soldiers of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan (that’s what they call themselves) took us for a walk to the fruit trees and showed us how simple and beautiful life can be: the soldiers climbed the trees, shook the branches, we washed the ripe fruits that fell in the small stream close to the camp and we all shared stories over tea. It’s been a nice evening with the Taliban, at a magical place.

Day 56 - We had an awesome sleep and woke up at 5:45 AM. I headed back to the peach trees, climbed up, and shook our breakfast off the branches. After moving our stuff back over the ropeway, we hit the trail towards Chagcharan. The first few hours were fantastic, some of the best riding here; the roads were a bit smoother, allowing us to ride fast on the tracks. The scenery changed from narrow valleys to expansive plateaus. The elevation rose to between 2500 and 2800 meters, and we enjoyed a nice breeze instead of the scorching heat we faced in the previous days. We reached Chagcharan early after 5 hours of beautiful riding. "Hotel," Gion asked? No, the Taliban replied firmly. We mistakenly thought the Taliban headquarters was our hotel, which was actually right next door. While I was editing my photos in the lobby, two armed Taliban came in for tea, and we ended up chatting about Islam and the world. Why not.

Day 52 - Our first order of business was to get our bikes exported. Fortunately, we had a helpful border guard who guided us to various spots to finally get the necessary stamps for our carnet de passage. All done. Just 500 meters later, we reached the Iranian border exit. We saw it coming. Instead of simply stamping our documents and passports, the guard accompanied us to an office where three men in civilian clothes were waiting. Just for us, we felt. It was a bit like déjà vu and of course NOT part of the usual border exit procedure; it was another round of questioning. Thankfully, it only lasted 30 minutes. "You can go" - and we were on our way. “I’ll be back”, Schwarzenegger would have said in that very moment, and so am I. Goodbye Iran, we love you. The moment you cross the border, you enter a different world. Mad Max came to mind. Beautifully wild and chaotic, yet there’s a system to it. Everything seems a bit disorganized, but anything is possible. Sand and dust are everywhere. Hundreds of people seemingly lost but with a firm destination. Sherif and his younger broder were on a mission and helped us navigate through the various counters to get our passport stamps. As we drove out of the border area, it felt like stepping into a scene from Blade Runner. Afghanistan welcomed us with fierce, stormy winds, and the swirling sand turned the whole landscape into a frightening reddish haze. The winds were so intense that they knocked our 250 kg bikes flat over while we parked, and the horizontally flying sand got through our dustproof enduro masks. As we rode away, we felt heavy electric shocks when we touched the brake or clutch levers due to the static charge the passing sand created on our bodies insulated against the bikes ground system. We traveled the 150 km to Herat with one hand always on a metal part of the motorcycle to prevent the discharges, and leaning our bikes at 11 o'clock against the wind to fight against its force. We encountered two checkpoints but breezed through them, now being seasoned pros in this matter. Even the Taliban didn’t intimidate us. Not yet.

Day 53 - We spent the day in Herat taking care of some admin. We had to get Afghan SIM cards and some cash. New country, new admin tasks. We also took the chance to clean our clothes and wash our bikes. Everything went smoothly, and we spent the rest of the day exploring the city, especially the Grand Mosque. Just like in Iran, it’s always picture time wherever we go. We find ourselves surrounded by at least 20 kids everywhere! In the evening, we headed to the local stadium to watch an Afghani soccer match between two Herat clubs. They serve tea in the stands, which is a bit different from the beer back in Belgium. On the bright side, while most people at home would be a bit tipsy by halftime, here all the Afghans go to the field to pray together: All the men line up facing Mecca on the grass. It’s quite a sight. We were impressed. Gion and I were the only ones left in the stands, so we definitely felt a bit out of place :)

Day 53 - Today was also the day to give our bikes a good clean. We really needed to wash off the sand from yesterday's sandstorm that hit us while we were between the border and Herat. We took care of it all at the local car wash. We also lubed our chains and made a few minor repairs from the falls we took. Great to have some clean bikes again, although we suspected it would not last long.

Day 48 and 49 - We were all set to get our Afghan visas today! Or so we thought. But, as usual, we showed up at a bad time. This time it’s Thursday, right at the start of the weekend. The embassy is closed again, so we have to wait until Saturday morning. It’s not the worst situation in the beautiful and holy city of Mashhad, but it’s not exactly the best time for sightseeing either. We feel it’s safer to just stay in the hotel. In the end, we spend the two days in some of Mashhad's beautiful cafes, nestled in the inner courtyards of old Persian houses. It’s peaceful here under the trees, and the days fly by as we read our books and savor delicious coffee and Iranian cuisine. The internet is still down, leaving us completely cut off. No phone, no data. The only updates we get are from the TV. Google works, but only the official Iranian news sites load. So, we can’t exchange any news at all; we’re completely in the dark. We find out that similar blackouts have occurred during past attacks to hinder the guidance and coordination of drones. Our concern is for our loved ones who haven’t heard from us. There are attacks happening tonight in Mashhad. While a large wedding party arrives for dinner around 9:30 PM, I’m in the lobby watching FIFA Club World Cup. I am feeling the ground shake and hear the sounds of bomb impacts. I start to feel uneasy and step outside. “Attack tonight,” says the night guard calmly. They keep on with the wedding inside. The whole situation feels surreal. Gion is on the phone on the 7th floor, calling with a friend who’s with her family just outside Tehran using an Iranian number. We finish our pasta on the rooftop, watching the last salvos from the air defense batteries for the night. The wedding has wrapped up as well downstairs. Tomorrow, we really need to get those visas.

Day 50 - Finally! We made it to the Afghan consulate in Masshad, Iran at 07h00. It took us 6 hours, but we managed to get both our visas and the road permit for our motorcycles. To be honest, we forgot to ask for the road permits and had to go through the whole administrative process twice. Anyway, the staff at the Afghani consulate were fantastic and remained calm despite the hundreds of people rushing for visas. Many are leaving Iran for Herat in Afghanistan, then flying to Kabul, and from there to Istanbul and onto Europe. A lot of people prefer this route over the 2000 km journey through Iran to the Turkish border. For us, entering Afghanistan is the next step in our journey. Now we just have to hope that the border to Afghanistan is still open tomorrow. We still need the regional permits, as Afghanistan requires a permit for every region we pass through. Our contact in Afghanistan, Aryan, will arrange those for us tomorrow. It took us two weeks, including our time in Tehran, to secure these visas. We feel like things are finally progressing, and we deserve to unwind this afternoon with a nice latte and cake. Plus, we’re looking forward to enjoying a hookah on the rooftop tonight. We’ve already packed our gear and are ready to leave early for a long ride to the border tomorrow.