Last night in Colima and treated to an incredible sunset lighting up Volcán de Colima in the distance. It took about 2 days to cycle around this beautiful volcano, but her magnetic pull was felt far beyond. Brimming just beneath the surface, her power was palpable. 275 miles down, only 9,700+ more to go.

The marble caves in Patagonia are being eroded in beautiful, organic patterns by Chile’s largest lake (the second largest lake in South America), the Lago General Carrera. Iridium from nearby melting glaciers gives the lake its’ majestic color. Iridium is the least common element on our entire planet, and is found in the highest concentrations in meteorites. For this reason, its nickname is stardust. The caves are essentially marble sculptures carved by a stardust-glowing lake.

We took a couple days to ride up to 11,000 feet in the Central Colombian Andes, our highest pass so far. Just as we crested the top, we could see the entire valley of wax palms peeking through the fog ahead. These wax palms are some of the tallest palm trees in the world. It was so clear after spending two days pedaling in the rain and fog just how much it all pays off. Riding a bike to the top of a mountain is a process of surrender, faith and ultimate freedom. The downhill is always fun, too.

To say that we were completely alone riding our bikes through the highest mountains in the Peruvian Andes isn’t entirely true. We may have seen a person every couple of days, but these fluffy, adorable creatures also made great company, and there were at least a hundred a day. It might get cold, but it doesn’t get old.

I live at the base of a beautiful little mountain where thousands of swallows return home every day, who dwell high in the cliffs. In the Spring and early Summer, they all set out for one final sunset cruise, displaying their elegance and agility one last time before the sun goes down for the day.

What millions of years of water and wind can do.

We cycled over a bridge one afternoon that we’d heard about in Northern Costa Rica. Local tour guides tossed raw chicken over the bridge to get crocodiles to emerge from the river’s muddy waters. Tourists would coo and take photos. We waited for the crowds to disperse, watching the crocodiles alone for well over an hour. We preferred them in their more natural state, just hanging out. That day, we realized that lake beds were no longer a good option for camping.

We were cycling up to Cotopaxi National Park on a rough cobblestone road for a couple of days. It had been raining and the small dirt patches of our road had turned to thick, foot-deep mud. We had to ride off the trail just to find solid ground. After a particularly difficult push, an abandoned building gave us the oppotunity to hang our tent and ground fly to dry. We camped on a big grassy field, overlooking Quito in the distance – where we had just cycled from a few days prior. This view of Cotacachi Volcano in the distance was extraordinary in the morning, as the clouds had settled in the valley below. It’s challenging cycling and pushing your bike through rain and mud, but these moments make it all more than worth it.

Enjoying the local cuisine in Cholula: nuts, seeds and grasshoppers.

If I could have a bumper sticker on my bicycle, it would say “I brake for camelids.” And sometimes they brake for me too! It’s been nothing but us and hundreds of adorable alpacas in this stunning landscape. Many squeals and shrieks of joy ensued... all of which came from me, of course.

After golden hour comes pink & purple hour, but the catch is it only lasts twenty minutes. Up here on the Bolivian altiplano at 12,000 feet, it is also chilly hour... so prying myself out of the tent to watch the sunset is always a challenge. On this day, a quick peek out of the tent and it was clear: the sunset won.

Sunny with a chance of volcanic activity.

Camping on Isla de Incahuasi (Cactus Island), right in the center of the Salar de Uyuni, with nothing but two days of riding over salt in any direction. It’s tough living on a bike sometimes, so we must treat ourselves to some easy pedaling once in awhile. This was one such occasion – a four day affair, 110 miles across the largest salt flat in the world.

We cycled into a small town in the Central Colombian Andes, our appetites for some local food slowly building over the last several days of nothing but palm trees. There was only one restaurant in town and it was closed. We poked around to see if we could find someone, and the sweetest old lady emerged. Without hesitation she said she’d cook us up some food and a couple cafe con leches. But, this wasn’t any cafe con leche. The coffee was grown, harvested and roasted out back, the sugar cane was grown and harvested out back and the milk came from the cow out back. It was like tasting coffee for the very first time. I took one photo as we left; a classic Colombian scene.

Peering down into the earth and watching lava churn inside the earth's crust at Volcán Masaya in Nicaragua. A primal, visceral feeling like nothing I’ve felt before.

Just a couple of curious alpacas in the Peruvian Andes watching the strange gringa pass by on her bike.

The sun is a powerful force everywhere on the planet, but you feel it more in the desert. Riding the White Rim Road through Canyonlands National Park in Utah, you quickly discover that there's not much shade during the day and you really have to have good, warm layers for the night. We rode up until sunset, and I'd breathe a sigh of relief when the sun would finally dip behind the horizon because it meant the heat and exhaustion of the day could melt away into the cold of the night. Then, in the morning, burrowed in my sleeping bag, I'd eagerly await the sun's rays to finally hit my body again. When they finally did, it was like being plugged in. Batteries sufficiently charged for the night, ready for another day.

I’ve dreamt of visiting this place since I was a kid... never did that dream involve rain! We started the hike from our campsite and less than an hour later we were at the trailhead. 3,000+ steps carved of stone, ascending more than a thousand feet from the valley floor. Every step slick with morning rain. The rain never stopped that day. It was a lesson in letting go. Every 15 minutes or so, the clouds disappeared and we caught a glimpse of the whole site. It is even more beautiful than I’d imagined all these years. I took surprisingly few photos, my attention focused on feeling the place. I’ll never forget what it felt like to stand on top of that mountain carved of stone, perhaps the largest work of art I’ve ever seen, built in only a century. This llama seemed to be taking it all in, too.

First day back in Perú, overlooking the Huascarán National Park.

This place on the border of northern Chile and Argentina was like cycling through and camping inside a pastel painting. When we descended into this valley, we couldn’t believe the colors of the mountains and lake below. We pushed our bikes across cacti and tiny thorny plants to tuck ourselves into a rock formation where we camped for the night with the most spectacular view. Definitely one of the most memorable campsites in all of our travels.

Hecho a mano. Made by hand.

The Cordillera Blanca in Peru is nothing short of beautiful. Listening to the birds and the sheep and the wind howling, I was humbled by these majestic beauties and honored to have the privilege of riding over them on my bicycle. No flats. Plenty of food. Warm. Happy. I fell into the rhythm of riding after a couple days, feeling the mountains invite us in to share some of their wisdom. As I witnessed the intricate and colorful layers from the highest passes, I also peeled back some of my own layers. Patience. Joy. Love. “I can’t believe this is my life,” I screamed into the mountains. “You’re earning it,” the Apus said back. Lighter and brighter than before, thank you Cordillera Blanca, for your priceless gifts.

Sunlight piercing through foliage on yellow Aspen trees in the Jemez Mountains, New Mexico.

Fisherman on Lake Atitlán early in the morning, as the first light of the day hits the lake. We took lanchas (boats) across the lake, visiting the handful of quaint villages along its shore. We encountered a number of full moon ceremonies, and felt the presence and power of the lake in this culture’s sacred practices and daily rituals.