Life's a Dynamic Beast
How the bloody hell did this happen?
Perspectives and Photography by Matt Hannon
But 6 months can pass and suddenly you’re sharing chocolate stuffed dates with smiling souls around a cliff-top campfire in the Mexican desert, drunk from the mescal scorpion you just ate, laughing at that last narrow escape and gnarly drop of a bike in the Baja mud.
Life’s a dynamic beast.
But as I look around at our crew, filthy as street dogs – a transnational conglomerate of dusty vagrants, I wonder how all of this even came into fruition…?
Seriously. When did this become the plan…?
I guess my own story is simple enough. I got scared that I wasn’t going to achieve the things I’d always said I’d like to do with my life – and so I quit a great job, bought a bike and landed in Alaska.
Then ironically spent the next couple of weeks in shock, wondering why I’d thrown my life away for some existential quest.
What the hell am I in freezing cold Alaska for?
Why do I have a motorbike?
I don’t even like motorbikes…
The thought of that makes me smile now…
Realised I need some uncertainty in my life.
Just like I’ve realised I need to experience the raw and wild places left on Earth, those capable of leaving my insignificant self an anonymous stack of bones to be strewn across the landscape by buzzards and coyotes.
I’ve also realised that sometimes the adventure hurts, that sometimes you think you’ve got it figured – then it smacks you square in the face with a tooth-loosening blow.
And while you’re reeling, adventure steals your motorcycle sidecar, all your belongings and swallows them whole.
Spits you out into the gutter like a sour tamarind seed.
Realised you’ve just got to keep going…
Realised that motorbikes can be replaced.
Family and friends cannot.
Makes you wonder what’s actually significant.
For me, it’s those I have the privilege of sharing time with.
Friends just like the ones I have here in Mex, sitting cross-legged in the Baja dirt beside me, each bringing their own unique perspectives to the trip. Great friends who I can’t believe are actually here for this crazy coalescence of surfwax, tacos, WD40, wild dreams and dust, dust, dust…
Unwavering friends who I know will, if need be, share their precious rationed water in the upcoming and unhospitable stretch of Mars-like nothingness.
It’s gonna be testing.
It’s already been brutal at times. We’ve all crashed the bikes already.
But whatever happens doesn’t really matter…
What matters is that we all said ‘yes’.