After our spiritual journey at the Ayahuasca retreat, it was time for an emotional journey: The last ride with our bikes.

Scott headed back down to Cusco with fingers crossed that his bike would be running smoothly, while Lachie and I headed to Huaraz to pick up our trusty steeds. We planned to meet up again in Huanchaco, which would hopefully be a less eventful than The Road to Huayhuash.

Luckily, it went smoother than a baby’s bum and we made it safely to the ocean for the first time in a few months. Despite the impending expiry of our visas, it was only natural that we made time for a dip. Even in the face of dismal surf (and surfing abilities), we were more than stoked to be back on boards and spent a few days laxin’ at a groovy surf and yoga hostel.

 Getting back on the road a couple of days later, we were really cutting it fine with time. We had to be out of Peru that day and had to cover almost 2,500 km to Bogota in approximately five days. With that in mind, we smashed it through Ecuador in 36 hours and gave the bikes one last mountain thrashing in Colombia.

With the long days of riding, we didn’t stop except to poop, eat and sleep, so there aren’t any photos of our final ride. Instead, we thought we’d pick a few of our favourites from the year.

 Our arrival in Bogota was bittersweet. There were hugs and smiles all round (I think Scott might have even tried to kiss me), but we were also hit with the realisation that we were done with our bike trip. Until then, the magnitude of what we’ve done hadn’t really sunk in. We’d just ridden up a bloody continent! Six countries and more than 20,000kms!

 The sadness of selling the bikes was quickly replaced with excitement when we met the legends who would be sending them on their next journeys. With a similar ‘she’ll be right’ attitude as us, we showed them all we knew about the bikes (not much), got the paperwork done and sealed the deal with a massive night of partying. Good luck Sea Biscuit, ‘Dozer and Thunder Kitty. I guess it’s true what they say, you’re first love is always the hardest to let go…

But here’s the thing with the bikes. They scared us. Or more realistically, we scared ourselves with them. Personally, I’d told myself that this was it for motos. It had been fun, but I don’t completely trust myself to always ride sensibly (as you might have figured from our escapades on the salt flats). But as soon as we handed over the keys in Bogota, I immediately missed the bikes. The freedom, the fun and the adventures were all too great to just do it once. It might be another cross-continental ride on a beast or just a little put-put back home, but I'm pretty certain that we'll all be hopping back in the saddle in the near future. Sorry Mum (and Kath and Robyn).