Hey everyone, it's Alexander.
This week was a test—physically, mentally, and mechanically. Sitting in Medellin with a broken driveshaft, mounting costs, the stress of political tensions between Canada and the US, and the weight of missing home, I seriously considered calling it–just leaving the bike behind, flying back, and ending the journey. But after talking to Katy and my friends, I got the reminder I needed: this trip is bigger than me. With the world in chaos, people need a distraction, an escape, an especially a positive example of pushing forward when things get tough. So, I shut off the news, focused on the road ahead, and got back on the bike.
From Medellin to Ecuador, the week brought mind-blowing Andean landscapes, brutal altitude, insane switchbacks, and freezing, high-altitude rain. I crossed into my ninth country, Ecuador, and now, with only four left, I’m more determined than ever to see this through.
Riding for a Cause: Why This Journey Matters
As tough as this ride gets, it’s nothing compared to the challenges faced by the women and gender-diverse people at Inspirations Studio—the reason I’m doing this ride in the first place.
Inspirations Studio is a ceramics program that gives marginalized women a chance to rebuild their lives. Many have faced homelessness, addiction, poverty, or abuse, and this studio provides them with a safe space to create, heal, and build a future.
Every donation goes directly to keeping the studio running, funding materials, and expanding access to more people who need it.
So, if you’ve been following this journey and want to support something truly life-changing, I’d love for you to donate today. Every bit helps.
Alright, now back to the road.
Back on the Bike and Climbing into the Clouds
After a full bike rebuild by the fantastic crew at Moto Test Diagnosticentro in Medellin—new driveshaft, oil, brakes, filters, plugs, and brakes—the bike was finally ready. As luck with have it, Devon, a good friend, rider, and documentary filmmaker just happened to be in Medellin so naturally, he rented a motorcycle and we set out to ride together in the mountains for the day. We tore up the hills, grabbed some great coffee at an amazing moto-café called La Rufina, and filmed some GoPro footage. We had a wonderful afternoon that ended with one last dinner with my friend Mora who was hosting me. It was a solid sendoff.
Tuesday morning, I left Medellin and rolled the throttle back into the Andes. If there’s one thing I can say about this part of the ride, is that it was absolutely epic. But also, the roads through the Andes are no joke.
As I pushed toward Armenia (Colombia), the skies darkened and at around 3 PM the rain came down hard. I stopped to grab my jacket, but when I saw locals putting on full rain gear, I knew better than to ignore the warning. Five minutes later, I passed a crash site—a bike down, ambulance on scene. It was clear that the rider was going into the corner too hot. A sharp reminder that riding in the mountains at speed, in the rain, is playing with fate.
Flatlands, Protests, and Toll Booth Chaos
The next morning I left early, rolling into the Colombian flatlands, and let me tell you—four hours of cane fields and farmland, transport trucks, and construction slow-downs is mind-numbing. The only excitement were the massive transport trucks hauling sugarcane, four trailers long, barreling down the road like they own it and ready to mow you down. Luckily I've got the biggest engine in town, by far, so I was able to overtake them easily.
Then came the protest.
A small town had blockaded the highway because the government hadn’t finished a long-promised road. I sat there watching the locals shake their heads, knowing this was going nowhere. Then, suddenly, the truckers started honking and pushing forward. It was chaos.
An ambulance showed up, the police stepped in, and somehow, in the middle of it all, they waved me through. Lucky break. I have no idea how long the others were stuck there, but I was out. That night, I stopped in Popayán, a beautiful colonial town and a quiet place to recharge before the long haul to Ecuador.
The Ride I Always Dreamed Of
Thursday, February 6th. This was the day I’d been waiting for.
Popayán to Ipiales is 336 km of pure Andean riding at 3,350m (10,990 ft) above sea level. It was switchbacks for days, oxygen running thin, and sheer drop-offs where one mistake means the ride is over—permanently. This was what I had dreamed about when I planned this journey and I enjoyed every second of the seven and half-hour ride.
The temperature swung from 33°C to 13°C as I climbed over the mountains. At one point, rain hit, and I should have put on my gear. But after weeks of intense Central American heat, the cold was almost refreshing.
When I reached Ipiales, near the Ecuadorian border, I was wiped. The long day of intense focus coupled with altitude sickness hit hard. Sore muscles, a pounding headache, and zero appetite. After three straight days of hard riding, my body was feeling it. Maybe it was my fatigue but for whatever reason, I had an uneasy feeling about the town so I splurged on a hotel that was a little more upscale from my usual on this trip. I listen to my gut now. I don't listen to my head. It lies. The stomach never lies. Ever.
The next morning I woke up to temperatures that hovered a 5°C. Without asking, the nice people at the hotel brought me a hot water bottle and some mint tea.
I'm glad I listened to my gut.
Crossing Into Ecuador and a Sanctuary in the Sky
On Friday morning I made a detour before the Ecuadorian border to visit Santuario de Nuestra Señora del Rosario de Las Lajas—a stunning 18th-century Gothic-style church built on top of bridge that crosses a river. It was really something interesting and beautiful and I spent the morning there. At this altitude, every step, and there were many, up to the sanctuary felt like climbing Everest. I had to stop four times just to catch my breath. Altitude doesn’t care how tough you think you are.
After the Santuario, I rode to the border just five minutes away and crossed easily—15 minutes out of Colombia, an hour wait, and 15 minutes to enter Ecuador. No handlers, no bribes, no BS. Just like that, I was in country number nine.
Crossing into Ecuador felt like riding straight into the sky. I was so high up, I was riding through clouds. The temperature? Cold as hell. My rain gear doubled as insulation, and for now, heated gear wasn’t necessary. I rode two hours south and found a quiet place on a crater lake of an extinct volcano, which was pretty fantastic.
Riding the Avenue of Volcanoes
The next day I rode south to Ambato, cutting around Quito, which is Ecuador's biggest city and full of traffic. I was stuck on the highways, but, on the positive side, you're on the famous Avenue of Volcanoes—a stretch of road lined with seven active volcanoes that loom like sleeping giants. At any moment, any one of them could wake up and wipe out everything in sight. It’s humbling, and absolutely breathtaking.
Then came Chimborazo Province, home to the highest point on Earth in relation to the sun. Chimborazo, at 6,263 meters (20,549 ft), while not the tallest mountain above sea level, due to the Earth's slight bulge at the equator it is the closest to the sun, about 2,160 m farther than Everest's summit! This will be my third time riding in Ecuador and it’s just as awe-inspiring as my first time.
It was a long day, my longest day of the last week of riding and the weather was miserable. The entire day was spent riding in the clouds at 12°C, soaked from freezing rain. After two months on the road, this was my first truly shitty day of riding—which, honestly, is a pretty good track record.
Cuenca and a Much-Needed Rest
After five straight days of high-altitude riding, my body was begging for a break. I made it to Cuenca, a stunning colonial city, and decided to stay put for a day and explore the city.
At this elevation, you never really rest—your body is still fighting for oxygen—but I needed a day to recover before the final push to Peru. The Andes aren’t done with me yet.
Next Stop: Peru
I’ve done nine countries out of thirteen. Four left:
Peru (massive, and it’ll take time)
Bolivia (short, but intense)
Chile and Argentina (long, tough, and cold at the bottom)
I’m exhausted. But I’m also excited. The hardest part of the ride is still ahead, and I’m ready for it. And remember—every mile I ride is for a cause that matters.
MotoAgent out.
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