Tim Notier's Blog, page 2
April 28, 2023
Our Favorite Rides - Ruta de las Lagunas
- Tim Notier 
Looking for an epic motorcycle route through some of the most remote landscapes of South America? Uyuni, Bolivia to San Pedro de Atacama, Chile via Lagunas Route is the route for you and should be on every Adventure Motorcyclist’s bucket list!
It is known to be difficult, especially for large motorcycles, and there are no gas stations, towns, restaurants, or any other amenities for over 400 miles of desert landscapes. The route is rugged, cold, beautiful, and will surely test your limits. But some of the most rewarding memories are earned after pushing your limits, the bike’s limits, and overcoming the challenges that you face along the way.
There are a few options to choose from to traverse the remote southwest region of Bolivia: an eastern track said to be easier with less sand, and a western route that was more difficult, but also believed to be more picturesque. Of course, we chose to take the western route. The last outpost before the Lagunas Route was a town called Culpina K, a good place to stock up with several days’ worth of food, water, and as much gasoline that you can carry. A five-liter plastic bottle filled with gas along with a matching five liters of water was strapped to the bike, as they are both equally important for the 3 days it takes to ‘comfortably’ cross the Lagunas Route.
The first day started with compacted dirt roads, but after a few hours of easy riding, we turned off the main gravel road to head south and started to ascend. Our new route turned into a rutted passage filled with large rocks I had to dodge while keeping enough momentum to crawl up the steep hills. It was definitely a high-clearance vehicle path, and my bash plate kept grinding against massive stones which I didn’t avoid in time. But we steadily made our way up the terrain and onto a high-elevation altiplano where we found ourselves staring out at snow-capped mountains in the distance.
From our vantage point on top of the altiplano, it seemed like we were looking down at an aerial map in a fantasy book. As I spun around 360 degrees, I saw different terrain, from mountains and lagoons to deserts and canyons. I envisioned titles in a large papyrus font hovering above the land, reading, “The Marshes of Madness” or “Canyons of Solitude,” with small towns that spread across the domain with names like “Broken Shield” and “Widow’s Keep.”
It was as if we were living out our own Choose Your Own Adventurebook, and I was quite satisfied with my choices so far. I had successfully managed to avoid the page that read: “You chose wrong. Your adventure ends here.” We continued down the corrugated road that cut through a flat desert with ten miniature Mount Fuji lookalike mountains surrounding us. We passed a pink lagoon and breathed in the strong sulfuric air that overwhelmed our noses and stung our eyes. It felt as if we were on one of the moons of Saturn, exploring its exotic alien surface on our lunar rovers, complete in our astronaut-like suits of gear.
The only negative of our amazing ride were the sandy washboard roads that shook me to my bones. It wasn’t the most difficult road we had been on but riding for hours on bumpy corrugations of slippery sand was uncomfortable, plus it was terrible for the bikes. I imagined all the bolts on my motorcycle slowly turning counterclockwise from the never-ending vibrations. The only way to avoid the worst of the corrugations in the center of the road was to ride along the very edges, but that was where the sand was the loosest, causing me to fishtail uncontrollably in complete fear. All I could do was concentrate on staying upright and try not to wipe out in a cloud of dust and sand.
That night, we pitched our tents next to the lagoon with flamingoes in what was extremely barren and hostile terrain. At an elevation of nearly 14,000 feet, the wind was so intense that strong gusts nearly upended my tent while constantly blowing sand into my eyes. As I sat down shivering over the stove to make hot water for tea and coffee, I could barely flex my fingers and saw that the skin around my nails was bleeding because they were so dry.
But the extreme weather came with an exceptionally beautiful panorama. Massive mountains and volcanic rocks encased the strangely colored lagoon where we camped. Far in the distance was Cerro Tomasamil, just one of many perfectly cone-shaped mountains that surrounded us. But this particular mountain had a flat-disked lenticular cloud hovering above its peak like a giant UFO. It out of this world landscape couldn’t have been more fitting. After a hot meal, we into our tent to get out of the wind to retain enough body heat to go to sleep comfortably.
Day two of the Lagunas Route started off with more of the same washboard roads for hours on end, but after successfully navigating through another bout of ruts and rocks, we bumped our way along windswept valleys of sand between colorful mountains. The terrain was becoming more desert-like the farther south we went, and we passed more lagoons of pink and blue amid the reds and grays of the rocky wilds. In the middle of the afternoon, we entered the Valle de las Rocas, or Valley of the Rocks, and twisted through what seemed to be an art exhibit of sandstone sculptures created solely by nature. The large stones had eroded into strange shapes carved by wind, sand, and time. The results were like Magic Eye illusions, in that if you stared at them long enough, a full sailboat or an M4 Sherman tank would materialize, or one of the simpler formations like the Árbol de Piedra; a sandstone pillar with a wide top that resembled a 22-foot tall, deep-fried elm tree.
It was a stunning landscape that we could have taken in for hours, but there was a fairly strict schedule to keep to based on the limited amount of food and water that we were able to carry. After lunch, Marisa and I slowly made our way towards the campsite pinned on our maps. That was when we hit the worst stretch of sand of the entire route. It was a mixture of deep sand and finely crushed volcanic rock, and it was impossible to distinguish visually between the firmer, compact sections and the loose, bike-swallowing segments. It looked like the soil in a farmer’s field that’s just been turned by a gigantic plow, leaving behind two-foot-tall trenches on the sides of narrow paths. I had to pick a channel and hope it wouldn’t turn into fine dust that would make me wipe out, and changing “lanes” was nearly impossible because of the height of the mounds on either side.
It was a stimulating ride through fantastic scenery as we continued through the endless stretch of madness. I kept dropping the bike as it flipped from side to side like a fish out of water, and it was beginning to take a physical and mental toll on me. What was only supposed to take us four hours took us over six, and we all knew that we needed to get to the wild campsite before the sun set.
Finally, we pulled off the road and into an isolated canyon just south of Laguna Colorada and went to sleep early in order to give ourselves as much time as possible to make it to the border the following day. The night was cold, silent, and dark, as if time itself had frozen on our remote moon of Saturn.
The third day was to be our last on the Lagunas Route, and the day that we would cross into Chile. But we knew that there were still major challenges ahead. The usual morning chitchat was replaced by solemn silence as I decided between using the last of our water to make coffee or saving it for later. I figured we deserved a hot cup of coffee before filling up my tank with the last of the gas that I had.
It was slow progress, but we made our way towards the Chilean border. Sulfuric steam drifted out of mud pits and caverns as we passed the Sol de la Mañana geysers. The colorful earth was just as cracked and scarred by the dry air as our lips and faces
But the closer we got to the border, the more intense the winds became. It was brutal up there, and the wind cut straight through the layers of my jacket, causing me to shiver the entire ride. Our spirits and hopes rose to new levels when we saw the Chilean customs office. I pulled into the building, which was shaped like an airport hangar, and knew that we had made it through the worst of it.
Marisa and I looked at each other, both of our faces red from sunburn and with flaky skin, and I noticed that bits of moisture around our watery eyes and running noses had dried into white crusts. We looked like we had just been through the pits of hell.
It was a surreal experience that we will cherish for the rest of our lives. The memories made in a land full of volcanos, canyons, and colorful lakes will not soon be forgotten.
We can't thank our subscribers enough for all of the support, kind words, and feedback as we create content while meandering around the world!
Check out our new 2Up and Overloaded merchandise! 
Looking for an epic motorcycle route through some of the most remote landscapes of South America? Uyuni, Bolivia to San Pedro de Atacama, Chile via Lagunas Route is the route for you and should be on every Adventure Motorcyclist’s bucket list!It is known to be difficult, especially for large motorcycles, and there are no gas stations, towns, restaurants, or any other amenities for over 400 miles of desert landscapes. The route is rugged, cold, beautiful, and will surely test your limits. But some of the most rewarding memories are earned after pushing your limits, the bike’s limits, and overcoming the challenges that you face along the way.
There are a few options to choose from to traverse the remote southwest region of Bolivia: an eastern track said to be easier with less sand, and a western route that was more difficult, but also believed to be more picturesque. Of course, we chose to take the western route. The last outpost before the Lagunas Route was a town called Culpina K, a good place to stock up with several days’ worth of food, water, and as much gasoline that you can carry. A five-liter plastic bottle filled with gas along with a matching five liters of water was strapped to the bike, as they are both equally important for the 3 days it takes to ‘comfortably’ cross the Lagunas Route.
The first day started with compacted dirt roads, but after a few hours of easy riding, we turned off the main gravel road to head south and started to ascend. Our new route turned into a rutted passage filled with large rocks I had to dodge while keeping enough momentum to crawl up the steep hills. It was definitely a high-clearance vehicle path, and my bash plate kept grinding against massive stones which I didn’t avoid in time. But we steadily made our way up the terrain and onto a high-elevation altiplano where we found ourselves staring out at snow-capped mountains in the distance.From our vantage point on top of the altiplano, it seemed like we were looking down at an aerial map in a fantasy book. As I spun around 360 degrees, I saw different terrain, from mountains and lagoons to deserts and canyons. I envisioned titles in a large papyrus font hovering above the land, reading, “The Marshes of Madness” or “Canyons of Solitude,” with small towns that spread across the domain with names like “Broken Shield” and “Widow’s Keep.”
It was as if we were living out our own Choose Your Own Adventurebook, and I was quite satisfied with my choices so far. I had successfully managed to avoid the page that read: “You chose wrong. Your adventure ends here.” We continued down the corrugated road that cut through a flat desert with ten miniature Mount Fuji lookalike mountains surrounding us. We passed a pink lagoon and breathed in the strong sulfuric air that overwhelmed our noses and stung our eyes. It felt as if we were on one of the moons of Saturn, exploring its exotic alien surface on our lunar rovers, complete in our astronaut-like suits of gear.
The only negative of our amazing ride were the sandy washboard roads that shook me to my bones. It wasn’t the most difficult road we had been on but riding for hours on bumpy corrugations of slippery sand was uncomfortable, plus it was terrible for the bikes. I imagined all the bolts on my motorcycle slowly turning counterclockwise from the never-ending vibrations. The only way to avoid the worst of the corrugations in the center of the road was to ride along the very edges, but that was where the sand was the loosest, causing me to fishtail uncontrollably in complete fear. All I could do was concentrate on staying upright and try not to wipe out in a cloud of dust and sand.
That night, we pitched our tents next to the lagoon with flamingoes in what was extremely barren and hostile terrain. At an elevation of nearly 14,000 feet, the wind was so intense that strong gusts nearly upended my tent while constantly blowing sand into my eyes. As I sat down shivering over the stove to make hot water for tea and coffee, I could barely flex my fingers and saw that the skin around my nails was bleeding because they were so dry.But the extreme weather came with an exceptionally beautiful panorama. Massive mountains and volcanic rocks encased the strangely colored lagoon where we camped. Far in the distance was Cerro Tomasamil, just one of many perfectly cone-shaped mountains that surrounded us. But this particular mountain had a flat-disked lenticular cloud hovering above its peak like a giant UFO. It out of this world landscape couldn’t have been more fitting. After a hot meal, we into our tent to get out of the wind to retain enough body heat to go to sleep comfortably.
Day two of the Lagunas Route started off with more of the same washboard roads for hours on end, but after successfully navigating through another bout of ruts and rocks, we bumped our way along windswept valleys of sand between colorful mountains. The terrain was becoming more desert-like the farther south we went, and we passed more lagoons of pink and blue amid the reds and grays of the rocky wilds. In the middle of the afternoon, we entered the Valle de las Rocas, or Valley of the Rocks, and twisted through what seemed to be an art exhibit of sandstone sculptures created solely by nature. The large stones had eroded into strange shapes carved by wind, sand, and time. The results were like Magic Eye illusions, in that if you stared at them long enough, a full sailboat or an M4 Sherman tank would materialize, or one of the simpler formations like the Árbol de Piedra; a sandstone pillar with a wide top that resembled a 22-foot tall, deep-fried elm tree.
It was a stunning landscape that we could have taken in for hours, but there was a fairly strict schedule to keep to based on the limited amount of food and water that we were able to carry. After lunch, Marisa and I slowly made our way towards the campsite pinned on our maps. That was when we hit the worst stretch of sand of the entire route. It was a mixture of deep sand and finely crushed volcanic rock, and it was impossible to distinguish visually between the firmer, compact sections and the loose, bike-swallowing segments. It looked like the soil in a farmer’s field that’s just been turned by a gigantic plow, leaving behind two-foot-tall trenches on the sides of narrow paths. I had to pick a channel and hope it wouldn’t turn into fine dust that would make me wipe out, and changing “lanes” was nearly impossible because of the height of the mounds on either side.
It was a stimulating ride through fantastic scenery as we continued through the endless stretch of madness. I kept dropping the bike as it flipped from side to side like a fish out of water, and it was beginning to take a physical and mental toll on me. What was only supposed to take us four hours took us over six, and we all knew that we needed to get to the wild campsite before the sun set.
Finally, we pulled off the road and into an isolated canyon just south of Laguna Colorada and went to sleep early in order to give ourselves as much time as possible to make it to the border the following day. The night was cold, silent, and dark, as if time itself had frozen on our remote moon of Saturn.
The third day was to be our last on the Lagunas Route, and the day that we would cross into Chile. But we knew that there were still major challenges ahead. The usual morning chitchat was replaced by solemn silence as I decided between using the last of our water to make coffee or saving it for later. I figured we deserved a hot cup of coffee before filling up my tank with the last of the gas that I had.
It was slow progress, but we made our way towards the Chilean border. Sulfuric steam drifted out of mud pits and caverns as we passed the Sol de la Mañana geysers. The colorful earth was just as cracked and scarred by the dry air as our lips and faces
But the closer we got to the border, the more intense the winds became. It was brutal up there, and the wind cut straight through the layers of my jacket, causing me to shiver the entire ride. Our spirits and hopes rose to new levels when we saw the Chilean customs office. I pulled into the building, which was shaped like an airport hangar, and knew that we had made it through the worst of it.Marisa and I looked at each other, both of our faces red from sunburn and with flaky skin, and I noticed that bits of moisture around our watery eyes and running noses had dried into white crusts. We looked like we had just been through the pits of hell.
It was a surreal experience that we will cherish for the rest of our lives. The memories made in a land full of volcanos, canyons, and colorful lakes will not soon be forgotten.
We can't thank our subscribers enough for all of the support, kind words, and feedback as we create content while meandering around the world!
Check out our new 2Up and Overloaded merchandise!
April 22, 2023
Our Favorite Rides - The Bolivian Salt Flats
- Tim Notier 
♫ Raindrops on helmets while riding through jungles
Bright sunny days that make us feel humbled
Tight gravel roads that twist through hillsides
These are a few of our favorite rides. ♫
Marisa and I have had the wonderful opportunity of riding through some fascinating places. And as we look forward to our next journey into a far away land, we are taking a glance back at a few of our favorite places that we have already explored. And I think the number one contender, in a very particular order, is our ride through the Bolivian Salt Flats!
We hope that you enjoy the ride down memory lane alongside us!
The Bolivian salt flats are the largest in the world and can be seen from space. But we were ground level to the wonders that they held and were excited to ride across such a surreal landscape. This adventure had been long awaited, and Marisa and I were in good company with our newfound friends Brendon and Kira that we had met while traveling through Peru.
The four of us headed to an entrance to find that the salt flats were surrounded by a wide moat of salty water. Just beyond our reach, across our newest obstacle, was a view to what seemed to be an endless stretch of flat, dry salt spreading all the way to the horizon.
Thousands of tire tracks spread out in every direction, but there was no way to determine where to go once out in the open. We wanted to find the mirrored section, where a thin, one-centimeter layer of water collects on the surface, transforming it into a massive reflective mirror that makes for jaw-dropping, dreamlike photos. But once out there in the endless landscape, it was hard to navigate anywhere, and our routing apps weren’t much help as there were no roads to guide us from point A to point B.
We just had to pick a cardinal direction and follow it. There was a large area to cover, more than 4,000 square miles, but we hoped to get lucky as we rode across the hexagonal patterns of salt on the otherwise featureless surface.
There are a couple of “islands” in the middle of the gigantic region, and we all agreed to make our way towards them. So, we picked a mountain on the horizon and kept it between the handlebars until we were close enough to adjust our bearings.
I watched the needle of my dash-mounted compass bounce around as we maintained a northwest course. A warm feeling of comfort overtook me when I glanced at the compass to verify that we were still on track. It was a gift from a fellow world traveler, Christian Vogel, who had stayed with us in our house near Chicago five years prior. Our dreams of adventure were only in their infancy at that point, and over the course of only five days, Christian shared his tales, troubles, and all the ups and downs of traveling the world by motorcycle. He urged us to set everything in motion and to dream big, never to second-guess our choices, and that we didn’t need hundreds of thousands of dollars in order to do it.
While sharing stories of our own brief travels, it became apparent that I got lost frequently, and that Marisa absolutely hated the cold. So, on the day of his departure, he gave us his compass, which also had a thermometer.
“This is so you never get lost, and so that Marisa doesn’t get cold,” he stated.
It was tear-jerking stuff.
Now here I was, more than five years later, looking at his gift, using it to guide us in the direction of complete bliss. And like the golden compass it was, it led us to an area that was completely mirrored.
The horizon ahead of us was cut directly in half in a perfect mirror image. We entered the thin layer of water, and I pulled over to stare out in astonishment. I could barely tell where the land began, and the sky ended.
“Okay, this is pretty cool,” I said.
This was another time when riding with another couple proved invaluable. We traded cameras and took pictures of each other riding on what seemed to be marbled glass.
It felt like we were floating in oblivion, skating on a fantasy of ice and sky as we splashed through the dream-like landscape. It was a magical experience as we rode in wide figure eights through the mirror of clouds. We took our time in the abyss of reflection, jumping, skipping, doing cartwheels, riding in circles the entire time, never wanting the dream to end.
But as with all dreams, this too had to come to an end. We knew the salt water could not be good for our bikes and could see it already crystallizing over the engine. In fact, as we rode farther through the mirror, Brendon pulled us over to tell us that our exhaust pipe had completely crystallized over in salt. I looked at my tailpipe in shock as there was only a pinhole left for the exhaust to escape through. I took out my pliers and pulled the salt out like brittle teeth, trying to avoid having it fall deeper into the exhaust.
“Okay, let’s get out of here please,” I said after realizing that the dream was turning into a potential nightmare.
The water got deeper and murkier as we made our way towards a different exit. The last two miles was the equivalent of riding in ankle-deep sludge that was 99% salt. I slid around the muck, trying to keep the bike straight while praying I wouldn’t drop it. Everyone had enjoyed their experience, but now we all desperately wanted it to be over.
A tour bus drove ahead of us towards the exit, and it created deep gouges that I tried to keep my front tire between. I bounced around the ruts of the bus’s tracks and was completely terrified of wiping out at any moment.
The growing stress forced me to pull over, I had been white-knuckling the handlebars and just needed time to collect my nerves.
“This is really bad,” Brendon said as he pulled up next to me.
“I thought we were riding through heaven, but this is hell,” I replied.
“It looks like the exit is just over there,” Brendon said, pointing to where we could see cars parked in the distance.
A few miles farther, a peninsula of land emerged from the water, and I knew that the end of the pain was near, so we set off to get to dry land. Brendon and Kira were in the lead, and I was only concentrating on what was directly in front of me. When I looked up ahead, I noticed that the Haks had made it to dry land and had parked the bike. Brendon hopped off and ran towards me mouthing something while waving his hands above his head, but all I could hear was Axl Rose welcoming me to the jungle via the speakers in my helmet. I figured something was wrong, so I came to a stop and turned off my music as my front tire sank two feet into a massive trench of salty sludge.
“What were you saying?” I asked Brendon as I panicked.
“I was telling you not to go this way,” he replied. “But it’s too late now, there’s no going back.”
As Marisa jumped off the bike, she found herself nearly knee deep in salty sludge. The water was nearly up to the tailpipe as I entered the deepest part of the pool of salt. I gunned it to keep momentum, but the bike was sinking as I progressed forward. If there was one place in the world not to drop the bike, this was it. Marisa pushed from behind as I rode out of the cesspool that was an electronics-eroding and metal-corroding pond.
With both Marisa and Brendon now pushing, we successfully made it out of the salt pond and out of the Salar de Uyuni.
“Car wash,” I said more to myself than to anyone else. “We need to get to a car wash as soon as possible.”
“I’m beginning to think that wasn’t a good idea at all,” Marisa said.
The Bolivian Salt Flats had lived up to everything I could have imagined, and the memories will stay with us for the rest of our lives. One of the pictures that Kira Hak took is the cover of my last adventure motorcycle book, “ Blood, Sweat, and Notiers .” We did encounter a few mechanical issues because of the ride, but like many of the struggles we had along the way, we wouldn’t alter any of our decisions. True adventure is trying, sometimes failing, seeing magical places in this world, and getting through the difficulties that all build up to a lifetime of memories!
It has been fun looking back at some of our favorite rides as we are in the final preparations of our next adventure. There has been so many wonderful memories made, and we are confident that there are just as many ahead of us.
Marisa and I can't thank you all enough for being a part of our journey, and we can't wait to share more memories from around the world!
Tim and Marisa Notier
♫ Raindrops on helmets while riding through junglesBright sunny days that make us feel humbled
Tight gravel roads that twist through hillsides
These are a few of our favorite rides. ♫
Marisa and I have had the wonderful opportunity of riding through some fascinating places. And as we look forward to our next journey into a far away land, we are taking a glance back at a few of our favorite places that we have already explored. And I think the number one contender, in a very particular order, is our ride through the Bolivian Salt Flats!
We hope that you enjoy the ride down memory lane alongside us!
The Bolivian salt flats are the largest in the world and can be seen from space. But we were ground level to the wonders that they held and were excited to ride across such a surreal landscape. This adventure had been long awaited, and Marisa and I were in good company with our newfound friends Brendon and Kira that we had met while traveling through Peru.
The four of us headed to an entrance to find that the salt flats were surrounded by a wide moat of salty water. Just beyond our reach, across our newest obstacle, was a view to what seemed to be an endless stretch of flat, dry salt spreading all the way to the horizon.
Thousands of tire tracks spread out in every direction, but there was no way to determine where to go once out in the open. We wanted to find the mirrored section, where a thin, one-centimeter layer of water collects on the surface, transforming it into a massive reflective mirror that makes for jaw-dropping, dreamlike photos. But once out there in the endless landscape, it was hard to navigate anywhere, and our routing apps weren’t much help as there were no roads to guide us from point A to point B.We just had to pick a cardinal direction and follow it. There was a large area to cover, more than 4,000 square miles, but we hoped to get lucky as we rode across the hexagonal patterns of salt on the otherwise featureless surface.
There are a couple of “islands” in the middle of the gigantic region, and we all agreed to make our way towards them. So, we picked a mountain on the horizon and kept it between the handlebars until we were close enough to adjust our bearings.
I watched the needle of my dash-mounted compass bounce around as we maintained a northwest course. A warm feeling of comfort overtook me when I glanced at the compass to verify that we were still on track. It was a gift from a fellow world traveler, Christian Vogel, who had stayed with us in our house near Chicago five years prior. Our dreams of adventure were only in their infancy at that point, and over the course of only five days, Christian shared his tales, troubles, and all the ups and downs of traveling the world by motorcycle. He urged us to set everything in motion and to dream big, never to second-guess our choices, and that we didn’t need hundreds of thousands of dollars in order to do it.While sharing stories of our own brief travels, it became apparent that I got lost frequently, and that Marisa absolutely hated the cold. So, on the day of his departure, he gave us his compass, which also had a thermometer.
“This is so you never get lost, and so that Marisa doesn’t get cold,” he stated.
It was tear-jerking stuff.
Now here I was, more than five years later, looking at his gift, using it to guide us in the direction of complete bliss. And like the golden compass it was, it led us to an area that was completely mirrored.
The horizon ahead of us was cut directly in half in a perfect mirror image. We entered the thin layer of water, and I pulled over to stare out in astonishment. I could barely tell where the land began, and the sky ended.
“Okay, this is pretty cool,” I said.
This was another time when riding with another couple proved invaluable. We traded cameras and took pictures of each other riding on what seemed to be marbled glass.It felt like we were floating in oblivion, skating on a fantasy of ice and sky as we splashed through the dream-like landscape. It was a magical experience as we rode in wide figure eights through the mirror of clouds. We took our time in the abyss of reflection, jumping, skipping, doing cartwheels, riding in circles the entire time, never wanting the dream to end.
But as with all dreams, this too had to come to an end. We knew the salt water could not be good for our bikes and could see it already crystallizing over the engine. In fact, as we rode farther through the mirror, Brendon pulled us over to tell us that our exhaust pipe had completely crystallized over in salt. I looked at my tailpipe in shock as there was only a pinhole left for the exhaust to escape through. I took out my pliers and pulled the salt out like brittle teeth, trying to avoid having it fall deeper into the exhaust.
“Okay, let’s get out of here please,” I said after realizing that the dream was turning into a potential nightmare.
The water got deeper and murkier as we made our way towards a different exit. The last two miles was the equivalent of riding in ankle-deep sludge that was 99% salt. I slid around the muck, trying to keep the bike straight while praying I wouldn’t drop it. Everyone had enjoyed their experience, but now we all desperately wanted it to be over.A tour bus drove ahead of us towards the exit, and it created deep gouges that I tried to keep my front tire between. I bounced around the ruts of the bus’s tracks and was completely terrified of wiping out at any moment.
The growing stress forced me to pull over, I had been white-knuckling the handlebars and just needed time to collect my nerves.
“This is really bad,” Brendon said as he pulled up next to me.
“I thought we were riding through heaven, but this is hell,” I replied.
“It looks like the exit is just over there,” Brendon said, pointing to where we could see cars parked in the distance.
A few miles farther, a peninsula of land emerged from the water, and I knew that the end of the pain was near, so we set off to get to dry land. Brendon and Kira were in the lead, and I was only concentrating on what was directly in front of me. When I looked up ahead, I noticed that the Haks had made it to dry land and had parked the bike. Brendon hopped off and ran towards me mouthing something while waving his hands above his head, but all I could hear was Axl Rose welcoming me to the jungle via the speakers in my helmet. I figured something was wrong, so I came to a stop and turned off my music as my front tire sank two feet into a massive trench of salty sludge.
“What were you saying?” I asked Brendon as I panicked.
“I was telling you not to go this way,” he replied. “But it’s too late now, there’s no going back.”
As Marisa jumped off the bike, she found herself nearly knee deep in salty sludge. The water was nearly up to the tailpipe as I entered the deepest part of the pool of salt. I gunned it to keep momentum, but the bike was sinking as I progressed forward. If there was one place in the world not to drop the bike, this was it. Marisa pushed from behind as I rode out of the cesspool that was an electronics-eroding and metal-corroding pond.
With both Marisa and Brendon now pushing, we successfully made it out of the salt pond and out of the Salar de Uyuni.
“Car wash,” I said more to myself than to anyone else. “We need to get to a car wash as soon as possible.”
“I’m beginning to think that wasn’t a good idea at all,” Marisa said.
The Bolivian Salt Flats had lived up to everything I could have imagined, and the memories will stay with us for the rest of our lives. One of the pictures that Kira Hak took is the cover of my last adventure motorcycle book, “ Blood, Sweat, and Notiers .” We did encounter a few mechanical issues because of the ride, but like many of the struggles we had along the way, we wouldn’t alter any of our decisions. True adventure is trying, sometimes failing, seeing magical places in this world, and getting through the difficulties that all build up to a lifetime of memories!
It has been fun looking back at some of our favorite rides as we are in the final preparations of our next adventure. There has been so many wonderful memories made, and we are confident that there are just as many ahead of us.
Marisa and I can't thank you all enough for being a part of our journey, and we can't wait to share more memories from around the world!
Tim and Marisa Notier
December 10, 2022
Happy Holidays
Marisa and I are taking a short break in central Florida over the winter. After a long summer's ride to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, the furthest Northwest that we could ride to, we then turned around and rode all of the way Southeast to Florida.
We have been working on our social media presence, and we are so excited to see the growth of our YouTube channel (now over 4k followers) as well as our Instagram and Facebook pages. It's not all about recognition, we are not in pursuit of fame or fortune, but it does feel fantastic that some of the pieces of the puzzle are coming together quite nicely for us to continue our digital nomadic lifestyle.
We saw Santa twice this year already! Once in the North Pole (a small town in Alaska) and then again at a Toys for Tots fundraiser in St. Petersburg, Florida! And while in Alaska, we saw plenty of reindeer that will soon be called back into action for their yearly flight on Christmas Eve. 
While here in Florida, we met up with Kinga, aka OnHerBike, and have been having a blast talking about the far ends of the world that we have all traveled to! She is keeping our adventure spirit alive, and I know that our paths will continue to cross the three of us separately circumnavigate the globe! 
We are so thankful to everyone who joined us on our journey to Alaska, and to everyone that we have met along the way. And in case you didn't notice... we are now officially 2Up and Overloaded! We swapped out our social media handles, and website from Notier's Frontiers to 2Up and Overloaded as it better defines who we are!
And some bonus exciting news! We made some 2Up And Overloaded swag! New T-Shirts and stickers! Check out our new shop at https://2upandoverloaded.myspreadshop.com/!
Each sticker is guaranteed to improve your gas milage by .00001%! Wearing a 2Up and Overloaded shirt increases your aerodynamics and the percentage of strong tailwinds to propel you forward...
*results may vary
We also come out with a list of our favorite gear that will hopefully inspire gift ideas for the adventurer in your life, or yourself. And this year, we summed up the best of the best in our new Amazon Shop. Check out what gear we currently use for Camping, Camara / Video Equipment, Men's ADV Gear, Women's ADV Gear, and Motorcycle Accessories.We linked everything that has worked for us on our travels, and we would love to answer any questions you my have about any specific equipment or gear. And don't just take our word for it, check out all of the reviews from fellow explorers all around the world!
It has been an amazing year for us, and we owe a large part of our success to the people who support us by watching and commenting on our YouTube videos, and a special thank you to everyone who has financially assisted us with monthly donations on Patreon and buying us a gallon of gas!We haven't officially announced our next destination yet, because we are still trying to figure it out ourselves, but our best guess is that we are Asia bound next spring! Our time here relaxing and spending time with friends and family has been wonderful, but we are anxious to get back out on the road!
A huge shout out to our Patrons
Steve, 1FTR_ADV, Mike, ADV Tammy, Steve L., Julie T., Bernhard F., Ryan and Laurel A., Dale T., Deanna H., Bill P., Jess W., Pete W., Kerry I., Doug J., Jim P., David B., Travis R., David P., William B., and Vicki N.
And to everyone who has bought us a gallon of gas :
Dana and Deborah C., Aboutye, Kyle L., Robyn, Dale T.,
You have no idea how thankful we are for every donation. Marisa and I hope that you all individually know that the footage we take, photos we snap, and hotels that we stay at are funded by your generosity!
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!
Tim and Marisa
December 2, 2022
Forks in the Road
By Tim Notier 
There was a lot to be appreciative for this past Thanksgiving, and that peace of mind and gratitude extends well past November 24th and had resonated for months and years prior. I have been lucky enough to find a soulmate that has the same interests of travel and adventure as I do, without her, my life would surely not be the same. 
Marisa is the bedrock to my pursuit of happiness. All my meandering around the world on two wheels would fall apart like an arch without a keystone. Our partnership in both marriage and as an expedition team of two, has unlocked a multiverse of seemingly limitless other blissful moments that have been linked together like the strong chainmail.
With her at my side, we purchased our KTM 1190, the second of many sources that put our lives on a course of daily rewards. Sure, there were struggles mixed in with the peaks of our journey, the NASDAQ of the investment into our journey has had a few dips and lows, but the growth of our love, sense of adventure, and excitement to explore further has made us wealthier than we ever could have imagined.
Along with my two girls, Marisa and Pegasus (our trusty KTM 1190), I have been fortunate to have met new best friends as we crawled over mountains and crossed rivers. We bonded with these fellow adventurers from faraway lands with a glue thicker than the dried mud on the bottom of our boots. The team grew stronger as a unit, and even though Thanksgiving isn’t on the same day in Canada, or even a holiday in Namibia, that day is still shared in our hearts with everyone we have encountered along the way. 
From the Maasai tribesmen and women in Tanzania, where there was a language barrier that separated us wider than the Red Sea, we still managed to part it with a staff of universal companionship. With a pointed finger and a smile, Marisa and I have been directed towards the next destination that unknowingly held yet another lifelong memory. 
The landscapes and nature that we have ridden through on three different continents may be impartial to our existence as we navigate through forests, deserts, and mountains, but I honor its role in our travels. Just like while in any small village, park, or as a guest in someone’s home, we attempt to leave on good standing, not leaving behind anything to tarnish the beauty that we were so lucky enough to see in its purity. 
The last five years of my life has been filled with moments that have made me proud of all my accomplishments, but none could have been achieved without the help, guidance, and love of the people that surround me. Even when it seemed like I have taken the wrong turn, or missed a fork in the road, I am thankful for every wrong move that has led me to where I am today.
And we are both forever grateful to everyone who has supported us on Patreon, purchased us a gallon of gas, and who have helped push us forward in so many ways from encouragement and support. It means the absolute world to us!
A huge shout out to our Patrons
Steve, 1FTR_ADV, Mike, ADV Tammy, Steve L., Julie T., Bernhard F., Ryan and Laurel A., Dale T., Deanna H., Bill P., Jess W., Pete W., Kerry I., Doug J., Jim P., David B., Travis R., David P., William B., and Vicki N.
And to everyone who has bought us a gallon of gas:
Dana and Deborah C., Aboutye, Kyle L., Robyn, Dale T.
You have no idea how thankful we are for every donation. Marisa and I hope that you all individually know that the footage we take, photos we snap, and hotels that we stay at, and tanks of gas are funded by your generosity!
There was a lot to be appreciative for this past Thanksgiving, and that peace of mind and gratitude extends well past November 24th and had resonated for months and years prior. I have been lucky enough to find a soulmate that has the same interests of travel and adventure as I do, without her, my life would surely not be the same. 
Marisa is the bedrock to my pursuit of happiness. All my meandering around the world on two wheels would fall apart like an arch without a keystone. Our partnership in both marriage and as an expedition team of two, has unlocked a multiverse of seemingly limitless other blissful moments that have been linked together like the strong chainmail.
With her at my side, we purchased our KTM 1190, the second of many sources that put our lives on a course of daily rewards. Sure, there were struggles mixed in with the peaks of our journey, the NASDAQ of the investment into our journey has had a few dips and lows, but the growth of our love, sense of adventure, and excitement to explore further has made us wealthier than we ever could have imagined.
Along with my two girls, Marisa and Pegasus (our trusty KTM 1190), I have been fortunate to have met new best friends as we crawled over mountains and crossed rivers. We bonded with these fellow adventurers from faraway lands with a glue thicker than the dried mud on the bottom of our boots. The team grew stronger as a unit, and even though Thanksgiving isn’t on the same day in Canada, or even a holiday in Namibia, that day is still shared in our hearts with everyone we have encountered along the way. 
From the Maasai tribesmen and women in Tanzania, where there was a language barrier that separated us wider than the Red Sea, we still managed to part it with a staff of universal companionship. With a pointed finger and a smile, Marisa and I have been directed towards the next destination that unknowingly held yet another lifelong memory. 
The landscapes and nature that we have ridden through on three different continents may be impartial to our existence as we navigate through forests, deserts, and mountains, but I honor its role in our travels. Just like while in any small village, park, or as a guest in someone’s home, we attempt to leave on good standing, not leaving behind anything to tarnish the beauty that we were so lucky enough to see in its purity. 
The last five years of my life has been filled with moments that have made me proud of all my accomplishments, but none could have been achieved without the help, guidance, and love of the people that surround me. Even when it seemed like I have taken the wrong turn, or missed a fork in the road, I am thankful for every wrong move that has led me to where I am today.And we are both forever grateful to everyone who has supported us on Patreon, purchased us a gallon of gas, and who have helped push us forward in so many ways from encouragement and support. It means the absolute world to us!
A huge shout out to our Patrons
Steve, 1FTR_ADV, Mike, ADV Tammy, Steve L., Julie T., Bernhard F., Ryan and Laurel A., Dale T., Deanna H., Bill P., Jess W., Pete W., Kerry I., Doug J., Jim P., David B., Travis R., David P., William B., and Vicki N.
And to everyone who has bought us a gallon of gas:
Dana and Deborah C., Aboutye, Kyle L., Robyn, Dale T.
You have no idea how thankful we are for every donation. Marisa and I hope that you all individually know that the footage we take, photos we snap, and hotels that we stay at, and tanks of gas are funded by your generosity!
September 22, 2022
Radioactive
By: Tim Notier 
Marisa and I have traveled halfway around the world over the last 5 years on our KTM 1190, but on our journey to Alaska over the summer we have come across some pretty amazing places right here in our own country. We have learned that traveling through foreign lands, or even in our own backyard, it is all about expectations. Sometimes they can fail to be reached, be on right on par, or be exceeded.
Idaho was a good case of me underestimating what was ahead as we rode through the 'Potato State'. I had previously thought that Idaho wouldn't offer much to see, but my assumption couldn't have been further from the truth. The wide plains that spanned across its southeastern border may have at first caused me to yawn a few times within my helmet, but it didn't take long before we ran into our first of many Atlas Obscura destinations.
I needed a break after hours of riding down a straight road that left more scenery to be desired. As I turned the bike down a sideroad that led to something called EBR-1, we had no idea what we were pulling into. I looked around, and it appeared that we had come across something straight out of a 1950's science fiction comic book. Actually, we had stumbled upon the world's first nuclear power plant (Experimental Breeder Reactor-1) in Arco, ID that had successfully lit four lightbulbs using nuclear energy way back in 1951.
I parked the bike in front of two massive heat transfer reactors that looked like the heart of an interstellar spaceship.
"This was a pretty crazy place to randomly pull over for a break," Marisa said.
"I'm not sure how long we should be here before we start mutating," I replied.
But this was a stop that seemed to be destined, a place that I was drawn to by being a little tired but was now fully recharged by either the highly active atoms that still hung in the air, or by curiosity alone.
In the main building, Marisa and I walked around the mad scientist's laboratory in complete awe of what we found in each chamber. A control room with a thousand knobs and buttons lay silent after being decommissioned for decades. They no longer operated the safety valves and vents that must have been so carefully monitored long ago, but now spun freely like the fidget spinners and levers on a toddler's interactive toy.
With me having the same mindset of a toddler, I turned all of the knobs to 11, and pressed the buttons to see if I could trigger some alarm. The only alarm that sounded was the levelheaded guidance of Marisa telling me to stop messing around with nuclear switches.
I realized that there was probably more technology packed into the display on my bike's dash than there was in the entire building that we were currently exploring. It was a humbling acknowledgment, and I was thankful to be in an era when riding around the world on a V-Twin was less complicated than powering four lightbulbs with nuclear energy.
Marisa took videos as we walked around our accidental wonder and awed at the Dr. Strangelove facility we were touring. Thirty-nine panels of glass gave us a glimpse into where the hazardous nuclear core once rested. But now we could duck down and enter this room from the apposing side. Once we stepped in, it felt like we were in the center of a giant AA battery, and we quickly decided to leave the room.
After our hour-long expedition through time and science, we decided to get back on the bike and head further towards Boise. I was no longer drowsy, and we could now see foothills slowly climbing into the sky. The fields along both sides of the road were now filled with lavender-colored flowers, and the mountains peaked their heads out of the horizon and welcomed us into their valleys like the wide hugs of a grandparent. 
The short ride into Idaho had a thin layer of flatness before suddenly springing into life with flowers, mountains, and a nuclear power plant. All of which was completely unanticipated, blowing our expectations out of the water. It was a good lesson for me to not judge any particular a State, region, or country until it has been given a chance to reveal its true identity to me.
We would love for you to watch the video of our encounter with EBR-I here: [Moto Journey to Alaska E20]
We would love for you to follow us along via our YouTube channel at:
www.youtube.com/notiersfrontiers
Or via the books we have written along the way at: https://smarturl.it/AdvMotorcyclebooks
Help push us 35 miles down the road at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/NotierFrontiers or
https://www.patreon.com/notiersfrontiers
And a HUGE thank you to all of our Patrons who have supported us along the way:
Deanna H. - Bill P. - Jess W. - Pete W. - Kerry I. - Doug J. - Jim P. - David B. - William b. - Vicke N.
Marisa and I have traveled halfway around the world over the last 5 years on our KTM 1190, but on our journey to Alaska over the summer we have come across some pretty amazing places right here in our own country. We have learned that traveling through foreign lands, or even in our own backyard, it is all about expectations. Sometimes they can fail to be reached, be on right on par, or be exceeded.Idaho was a good case of me underestimating what was ahead as we rode through the 'Potato State'. I had previously thought that Idaho wouldn't offer much to see, but my assumption couldn't have been further from the truth. The wide plains that spanned across its southeastern border may have at first caused me to yawn a few times within my helmet, but it didn't take long before we ran into our first of many Atlas Obscura destinations.
I needed a break after hours of riding down a straight road that left more scenery to be desired. As I turned the bike down a sideroad that led to something called EBR-1, we had no idea what we were pulling into. I looked around, and it appeared that we had come across something straight out of a 1950's science fiction comic book. Actually, we had stumbled upon the world's first nuclear power plant (Experimental Breeder Reactor-1) in Arco, ID that had successfully lit four lightbulbs using nuclear energy way back in 1951.I parked the bike in front of two massive heat transfer reactors that looked like the heart of an interstellar spaceship.
"This was a pretty crazy place to randomly pull over for a break," Marisa said."I'm not sure how long we should be here before we start mutating," I replied.
But this was a stop that seemed to be destined, a place that I was drawn to by being a little tired but was now fully recharged by either the highly active atoms that still hung in the air, or by curiosity alone.
In the main building, Marisa and I walked around the mad scientist's laboratory in complete awe of what we found in each chamber. A control room with a thousand knobs and buttons lay silent after being decommissioned for decades. They no longer operated the safety valves and vents that must have been so carefully monitored long ago, but now spun freely like the fidget spinners and levers on a toddler's interactive toy.
With me having the same mindset of a toddler, I turned all of the knobs to 11, and pressed the buttons to see if I could trigger some alarm. The only alarm that sounded was the levelheaded guidance of Marisa telling me to stop messing around with nuclear switches.
I realized that there was probably more technology packed into the display on my bike's dash than there was in the entire building that we were currently exploring. It was a humbling acknowledgment, and I was thankful to be in an era when riding around the world on a V-Twin was less complicated than powering four lightbulbs with nuclear energy.Marisa took videos as we walked around our accidental wonder and awed at the Dr. Strangelove facility we were touring. Thirty-nine panels of glass gave us a glimpse into where the hazardous nuclear core once rested. But now we could duck down and enter this room from the apposing side. Once we stepped in, it felt like we were in the center of a giant AA battery, and we quickly decided to leave the room.
After our hour-long expedition through time and science, we decided to get back on the bike and head further towards Boise. I was no longer drowsy, and we could now see foothills slowly climbing into the sky. The fields along both sides of the road were now filled with lavender-colored flowers, and the mountains peaked their heads out of the horizon and welcomed us into their valleys like the wide hugs of a grandparent. 
The short ride into Idaho had a thin layer of flatness before suddenly springing into life with flowers, mountains, and a nuclear power plant. All of which was completely unanticipated, blowing our expectations out of the water. It was a good lesson for me to not judge any particular a State, region, or country until it has been given a chance to reveal its true identity to me. We would love for you to watch the video of our encounter with EBR-I here: [Moto Journey to Alaska E20]
We would love for you to follow us along via our YouTube channel at: www.youtube.com/notiersfrontiers
Or via the books we have written along the way at: https://smarturl.it/AdvMotorcyclebooks
Help push us 35 miles down the road at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/NotierFrontiers or
https://www.patreon.com/notiersfrontiers
And a HUGE thank you to all of our Patrons who have supported us along the way:
Deanna H. - Bill P. - Jess W. - Pete W. - Kerry I. - Doug J. - Jim P. - David B. - William b. - Vicke N.
August 20, 2022
Our Journey to Deadhorse!
Tim Notier 
Marisa and I are excited to announce that we made it to Deadhorse! We have now completed the line between the southernmost tip of the Americas to the furthest north you can ride!
It has been an amazing ride to say the least, but we have lucked out when it comes to the weather. Most of the roads have been compact dirt roads, with only a few sections of split pea soup. 
Mountains, wildlife, and a pipeline have accompanied us as we traveled north through the Arctic Circle. We have made more friends than we could have ever imagined, both furry and human alike! 
This big guy (muskox) was something straight out of Star Wars! 
We have ran out of gas, camped in torrential rain, and slid around muddy roads, but the blooming flowers and scenery has pushed us forward with wide smiles. The two of us may have reached the top of Alaska, but there is a whole lot more to explore in the south, so stay tuned! This journey is a dream come true, and we are ecstatic about what is still to come! 
We can't thank everyone enough for all of the support! We would love for you to follow us along via our YouTube channel at:
www.youtube.com/notiersfrontiers
Or via the books we have written along the way at: https://smarturl.it/AdvMotorcyclebooks
Help push us 35 miles down the road at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/NotierFrontiers or
https://www.patreon.com/notiersfrontiers
Marisa and I are excited to announce that we made it to Deadhorse! We have now completed the line between the southernmost tip of the Americas to the furthest north you can ride!
It has been an amazing ride to say the least, but we have lucked out when it comes to the weather. Most of the roads have been compact dirt roads, with only a few sections of split pea soup. 
Mountains, wildlife, and a pipeline have accompanied us as we traveled north through the Arctic Circle. We have made more friends than we could have ever imagined, both furry and human alike! 
This big guy (muskox) was something straight out of Star Wars! 
We have ran out of gas, camped in torrential rain, and slid around muddy roads, but the blooming flowers and scenery has pushed us forward with wide smiles. The two of us may have reached the top of Alaska, but there is a whole lot more to explore in the south, so stay tuned! This journey is a dream come true, and we are ecstatic about what is still to come! We can't thank everyone enough for all of the support! We would love for you to follow us along via our YouTube channel at: www.youtube.com/notiersfrontiers
Or via the books we have written along the way at: https://smarturl.it/AdvMotorcyclebooks
Help push us 35 miles down the road at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/NotierFrontiers or
https://www.patreon.com/notiersfrontiers
August 17, 2022
Yukon Do It!
By Tim Notier 
So it has been a while since our last update. We didn’t get a Canadian SIM card and have been without internet for a while.
Marisa and I have had an amazing ride through Washington and it’s beautiful rain forest in the Olympic NP then into BC and the Yukon. We’ve seen black bears munching on wild berries on the side of the road, moose down dusty trails, and have camped in some pretty amazing places.
But the journey has also been filled with mosquitoes trying to terrorize us, and black flies that take out chunks of flesh. We have tried to counter their assault with some unique fashion wear, but our efforts are mostly in vain to keep them out of our veins. 
Over the last few weeks, we have explored as much as we could while still trying to keep a tight timeline for us to reach Prudhoe Bay before a wall of ice separates us from the rest of the world. 
It has been a wonderful journey so far, and we can’t wait for what is still to come! We would love for you to follow us along via our YouTube channel at:
www.youtube.com/notiersfrontiers
Or via the books we have written along the way at: https://smarturl.it/AdvMotorcyclebooks
Help push us 35 miles down the road at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/NotierFrontiers or
https://www.patreon.com/notiersfrontiers
So it has been a while since our last update. We didn’t get a Canadian SIM card and have been without internet for a while.Marisa and I have had an amazing ride through Washington and it’s beautiful rain forest in the Olympic NP then into BC and the Yukon. We’ve seen black bears munching on wild berries on the side of the road, moose down dusty trails, and have camped in some pretty amazing places.
But the journey has also been filled with mosquitoes trying to terrorize us, and black flies that take out chunks of flesh. We have tried to counter their assault with some unique fashion wear, but our efforts are mostly in vain to keep them out of our veins. 
Over the last few weeks, we have explored as much as we could while still trying to keep a tight timeline for us to reach Prudhoe Bay before a wall of ice separates us from the rest of the world. 
It has been a wonderful journey so far, and we can’t wait for what is still to come! We would love for you to follow us along via our YouTube channel at: www.youtube.com/notiersfrontiers
Or via the books we have written along the way at: https://smarturl.it/AdvMotorcyclebooks
Help push us 35 miles down the road at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/NotierFrontiers or
https://www.patreon.com/notiersfrontiers
June 11, 2022
Back in the Saddle Again
By Tim Notier 
Marisa and I have been on the road again for just under a month, but it feels as if we have been traveling for much longer. We've already stayed with friends in Oklahoma City, attended an Overland Expo in Flagstaff, and spent time with new friends in Phoenix and Sedona. We've chatted with fellow travelers and dream-seekers as we made our way west to California, and are now in one of the most impressive National Parks: Yellowstone. 
But let's rewind just a few weeks as I haven't been keeping up with our blog posts.
Our latest round of adventures started with where it all began over 5 years ago when we first left on our trip around the world. We rode to the same campground that we spent our 1st night at to relive some of our fondest memories, but ended up creating new ones as we found a perfect spot next to a lake just 5 minutes away from our old campsite.
Needless to say, things were off to a pretty fantastic start, and there was an entire summer and fall of travel ahead of us. Before we knew it, we were in New Mexico, watching the sun set from across a lake.
Everything seemed to be happening so fast, and even though it had only been a few days at that point, it seems like we left our home in Chicago months ago.
Our first Overland Expo of the season went off without a hitch. The stories traded from the thousands of attendees could fill the pages of countless unwritten books. The excitement and thrill of adventure is passed around like a peace pipe amongst strangers and friends alike.
After the hustle and bustle of an awesome show and camping for 4 nights, we wanted to transport ourselves to a calmer, more Zen-like place to relax (and do some laundry).
So we entered the vortex and rode down to Sedona to spend time with newly acquired friends that we met on the road. We spent a few nights just soaking up the surrounding red cliffs, and even went on a small hike, something that Marisa and I rarely do.
The trip had been a success, even if we were only measuring it in short strides. There was a lot more ahead of us than behind. But we were back in the saddle again, enjoying every moment of Zen along the way. 
We would love for you to follow us along via our YouTube channel at:
www.youtube.com/notiersfrontiers
Or via the books we have written along the way at: https://smarturl.it/AdvMotorcyclebooks
Help push us 35 miles down the road at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/NotierFrontiers or
https://www.patreon.com/notiersfrontiers
Marisa and I have been on the road again for just under a month, but it feels as if we have been traveling for much longer. We've already stayed with friends in Oklahoma City, attended an Overland Expo in Flagstaff, and spent time with new friends in Phoenix and Sedona. We've chatted with fellow travelers and dream-seekers as we made our way west to California, and are now in one of the most impressive National Parks: Yellowstone. 
But let's rewind just a few weeks as I haven't been keeping up with our blog posts.
Our latest round of adventures started with where it all began over 5 years ago when we first left on our trip around the world. We rode to the same campground that we spent our 1st night at to relive some of our fondest memories, but ended up creating new ones as we found a perfect spot next to a lake just 5 minutes away from our old campsite.
Needless to say, things were off to a pretty fantastic start, and there was an entire summer and fall of travel ahead of us. Before we knew it, we were in New Mexico, watching the sun set from across a lake.Everything seemed to be happening so fast, and even though it had only been a few days at that point, it seems like we left our home in Chicago months ago.
Our first Overland Expo of the season went off without a hitch. The stories traded from the thousands of attendees could fill the pages of countless unwritten books. The excitement and thrill of adventure is passed around like a peace pipe amongst strangers and friends alike. 
After the hustle and bustle of an awesome show and camping for 4 nights, we wanted to transport ourselves to a calmer, more Zen-like place to relax (and do some laundry).So we entered the vortex and rode down to Sedona to spend time with newly acquired friends that we met on the road. We spent a few nights just soaking up the surrounding red cliffs, and even went on a small hike, something that Marisa and I rarely do.
The trip had been a success, even if we were only measuring it in short strides. There was a lot more ahead of us than behind. But we were back in the saddle again, enjoying every moment of Zen along the way. We would love for you to follow us along via our YouTube channel at: www.youtube.com/notiersfrontiers
Or via the books we have written along the way at: https://smarturl.it/AdvMotorcyclebooks
Help push us 35 miles down the road at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/NotierFrontiers or
https://www.patreon.com/notiersfrontiers
May 28, 2022
Dragons
By Tim Notier 
Knighting our motorcycle with its rightful name was not an easy task. It involved days of consideration and deep meditation in order for us to find the One True Name of our newest family member. I think that if Marisa and I had a child, it would have been easier to name.
"Tim Junior?"
"T.J. for short?"
"Sounds good!"
End of discussion.
But our motorcycle needed a name that not only had meaning to us, but one that others would be able to understand the magic that was built directly into the machine. Our last motorcycle was named Pegasus, as it was a mythical creature that carried us halfway around the world. With the Honda Goldwing pegs installed as Marisa's foot pegs, the name just came to us and we dubbed the bike Pegasus right there in the middle of Death Valley.
The name of our newest motorcycle had to come to us just as naturally. I was also up to the trial of a peyote induced hallucination where I might find the bike's spirit animal. But sadly, Marisa denied my request to leave this realm in my hunt for true clarity. The two of us just wanted the bike's title to have importance to us, and one to be proud of as we spoke about its great accomplishments.
While on the road over the last four years, I often found myself missing some creature comforts. Not of old habits that I used to have, but the actual comfort of the creatures that I left behind. My cats Kamiko and Moto were my little buddies, and 22 years later, we just said our final goodbye to my best friend Moto. After a blood-clot in his right paw, Moto was on the tail end of his journey, and even though we said our farewells to Kamiko years ago, her and Moto have always been a part of our adventure.
But with them in mind, I couldn't name my motorcycle Moto. That seemed a little redundant. And Kamiko's name has a whole backstory that I wouldn't necessarily say upsets Marisa, but is kind of awkward. Long story short, I named my cat after a girl in high school that was super pretty, who also happened to be one of Marisa's good friends. So naming the bike in honor of either of my cats seemed unrealistic.
Pegasus was a legendary animal, but in reality, we slithered our way across the ground in place of soaring above the clouds. Fluids and acidic spit dripped out of nearly every gasket instead of the pristine and stoic image that comes to mind of the divine winged horse. We rode on the back of a dragon, not a flawless deity of perfection.
Dragons came in all shapes, colors, and sizes. Our newest wyvern would hopefully be able to claw its way to Alaska with us mounted in its saddle. I realized that speed will not be our greatest feature, but the reliability and dependability of a tank. It then dawned on me that our bike's spirit animal was a Komodo dragon. And with a little splash of improper spelling, which I am almost a pro at, we have now knighted our KTM 1190 R 'KaMoto' as tribute to our best friends that will join us in spirit, as well as honoring the motorcycle's true nature.
It is the best of both worlds as we explore the globe on our lumbering beast of burden. I am happy that we found its name and am thankful that Marisa insisted that I not take magic mushrooms until we felt all other options had been exhausted.
We are so excited to be back in the thick of nature, this time with my three best friends along for the ride. Marisa, my copilot, and my two little buddies making the engine purr as we all go over the mountains to see what we can see.
We would love for you to follow us along via our YouTube channel at: www.youtube.com/notiersfrontiers
Or via the books we have written along the way at: https://smarturl.it/AdvMotorcyclebooks
Help push us 35 miles down the road at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/NotierFrontiers or
https://www.patreon.com/notiersfrontiers
Knighting our motorcycle with its rightful name was not an easy task. It involved days of consideration and deep meditation in order for us to find the One True Name of our newest family member. I think that if Marisa and I had a child, it would have been easier to name."Tim Junior?"
"T.J. for short?"
"Sounds good!"
End of discussion.
But our motorcycle needed a name that not only had meaning to us, but one that others would be able to understand the magic that was built directly into the machine. Our last motorcycle was named Pegasus, as it was a mythical creature that carried us halfway around the world. With the Honda Goldwing pegs installed as Marisa's foot pegs, the name just came to us and we dubbed the bike Pegasus right there in the middle of Death Valley.
The name of our newest motorcycle had to come to us just as naturally. I was also up to the trial of a peyote induced hallucination where I might find the bike's spirit animal. But sadly, Marisa denied my request to leave this realm in my hunt for true clarity. The two of us just wanted the bike's title to have importance to us, and one to be proud of as we spoke about its great accomplishments.While on the road over the last four years, I often found myself missing some creature comforts. Not of old habits that I used to have, but the actual comfort of the creatures that I left behind. My cats Kamiko and Moto were my little buddies, and 22 years later, we just said our final goodbye to my best friend Moto. After a blood-clot in his right paw, Moto was on the tail end of his journey, and even though we said our farewells to Kamiko years ago, her and Moto have always been a part of our adventure.
But with them in mind, I couldn't name my motorcycle Moto. That seemed a little redundant. And Kamiko's name has a whole backstory that I wouldn't necessarily say upsets Marisa, but is kind of awkward. Long story short, I named my cat after a girl in high school that was super pretty, who also happened to be one of Marisa's good friends. So naming the bike in honor of either of my cats seemed unrealistic.Pegasus was a legendary animal, but in reality, we slithered our way across the ground in place of soaring above the clouds. Fluids and acidic spit dripped out of nearly every gasket instead of the pristine and stoic image that comes to mind of the divine winged horse. We rode on the back of a dragon, not a flawless deity of perfection.
Dragons came in all shapes, colors, and sizes. Our newest wyvern would hopefully be able to claw its way to Alaska with us mounted in its saddle. I realized that speed will not be our greatest feature, but the reliability and dependability of a tank. It then dawned on me that our bike's spirit animal was a Komodo dragon. And with a little splash of improper spelling, which I am almost a pro at, we have now knighted our KTM 1190 R 'KaMoto' as tribute to our best friends that will join us in spirit, as well as honoring the motorcycle's true nature.
It is the best of both worlds as we explore the globe on our lumbering beast of burden. I am happy that we found its name and am thankful that Marisa insisted that I not take magic mushrooms until we felt all other options had been exhausted.We are so excited to be back in the thick of nature, this time with my three best friends along for the ride. Marisa, my copilot, and my two little buddies making the engine purr as we all go over the mountains to see what we can see.
We would love for you to follow us along via our YouTube channel at: www.youtube.com/notiersfrontiersOr via the books we have written along the way at: https://smarturl.it/AdvMotorcyclebooks
Help push us 35 miles down the road at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/NotierFrontiers or
https://www.patreon.com/notiersfrontiers
April 27, 2022
Mythical Creatures
The Notiers Notes Our Sunday Scoop By Tim Notier 
Marisa, Pegasus (our KTM 1190), and I have been a trio of man, woman, and machine over the course of the last 4 years. We have struggled together, overcome hardships together, and each of us has pushed the others past their limits, urging them to continue on when things got tough.
All of us have our roles as we navigate the world. I am generally the pilot, with my black chauffeur hat and gloves replaced with my motorcycle helmet and plastic knuckle gloves. My limo is our KTM, but Marisa is no ordinary passenger. Marisa is the true hero of our story. She is my cheerleader, my support crew, and my morale booster when both the bike and I are feeling grumpy and worn down. Between the three of us, Marisa is usually the one with the least amount of 'issues' as we bounce along gravel roads and across rivers.
There have been times when our struggles are of our own doing, most notably as we rode across the Bolivian Salt Flats when they had a thin layer of water reflecting the heavens above. And even though we took some of the most memorable pictures of the trip while coasting through this dreamlike scenery, it very well may have led to the large portion of electrical and mechanic issues that kept rearing their ugly heads as we continued further down the road. This is not what teammates do to each other. 
After troubleshooting a malfunctioning kickstand sensor, we hoped that was the only damage we had done on our blissful ride through paradise. But a year later in Africa, our radiator had sprung a leak. The mechanic who took a look at the bike asked me, "Where have you been that could have caused this type of corrosion?"
I knew the answer, but kept it to myself.
But Pegasus pushed on, rarely complaining as we traveled down sandy corrugated tracks that often left her laying on her side while fluids leaked out of overflow hoses. I patched her wounds the best that I could, and Marisa was always right there behind me to say, "You are doing an amazing job."
The three of us had a few more scars on us than we did the day we left, but we wore them like badges of honor. We successfully rode halfway up the African continent before Covid hit and tossed a wrench in our sprocket. After a year of waiting things out in Kenya and Uganda, Marisa and I decided that going back home to save up some cash and doing a full rebuild of the motorcycle would be a good use of our delayed travel plans. But before we wintered in Chicago, we wanted to tour the States, present at some overland expos, and take full advantage of the summer before we hunkered down to endure our first Chicago winter in four years.
Unknowingly, this would be the farewell tour to a member of our trio, one that had carried us nearly halfway across the globe. Our trusty steed was becoming less reliable as different failure codes flashed across my dash. After 85k of tough and overburdened miles, Peg was reflecting some of the abuse that I had put her through.
I had asked a lot of that motorcycle, and it had performed better than I could have ever expected. Some may say that 85k miles is not the full lifespan of an expensive adventure motorcycle, but my mind flashes to the way people age. There will be significant differences between Kim Kardashian when she reaches her 50's versus a blue-collar coal miner who had spent decades of their life through difficulties and hard manual labor.
Marisa and I knew that Peg had served her time. Fixing her up via a full rebuild would cost 6k dollars or more, and there still may be hidden gremlins lurking deep within her components that aren't diagnosable until they present themselves in some foreign land.
The good news is that Marisa and I still have the same wanderlust as we did so many years ago. The dream of riding through the plains of Mongolia are still alive and well. Our passion to explore the unknown has not faded in the slightest, and we have already chosen the next character of our story.
We can't wait to mount the newest member of Notier's Frontiers, but this story is not about what is to come, it is about the successes and triumphs that our honorably discharged motorcycle has faithfully guided us through, all with the enthusiasm of a new puppy. I will always remember the sound of her engine as she eagerly burst into life, ready for whatever nasty roads we may traverse down that particular day.
Marisa and Pegasus are both mythical creatures that have been crafted by the gods and by some source of unbelievable luck and fate, are a part of this little chauffeur's life. Another machine that has been forged by Hephaestus himself will be put through the same tests, if not more than its predecessor (minus any future salt flats).
Ride alongside us via our YouTube Channel and check out my latest publications of two Adventure Motorcycle Journals to document your own epic quest!
Subscribe to Our Blog
Marisa, Pegasus (our KTM 1190), and I have been a trio of man, woman, and machine over the course of the last 4 years. We have struggled together, overcome hardships together, and each of us has pushed the others past their limits, urging them to continue on when things got tough.
All of us have our roles as we navigate the world. I am generally the pilot, with my black chauffeur hat and gloves replaced with my motorcycle helmet and plastic knuckle gloves. My limo is our KTM, but Marisa is no ordinary passenger. Marisa is the true hero of our story. She is my cheerleader, my support crew, and my morale booster when both the bike and I are feeling grumpy and worn down. Between the three of us, Marisa is usually the one with the least amount of 'issues' as we bounce along gravel roads and across rivers.
There have been times when our struggles are of our own doing, most notably as we rode across the Bolivian Salt Flats when they had a thin layer of water reflecting the heavens above. And even though we took some of the most memorable pictures of the trip while coasting through this dreamlike scenery, it very well may have led to the large portion of electrical and mechanic issues that kept rearing their ugly heads as we continued further down the road. This is not what teammates do to each other. 
After troubleshooting a malfunctioning kickstand sensor, we hoped that was the only damage we had done on our blissful ride through paradise. But a year later in Africa, our radiator had sprung a leak. The mechanic who took a look at the bike asked me, "Where have you been that could have caused this type of corrosion?"I knew the answer, but kept it to myself.
But Pegasus pushed on, rarely complaining as we traveled down sandy corrugated tracks that often left her laying on her side while fluids leaked out of overflow hoses. I patched her wounds the best that I could, and Marisa was always right there behind me to say, "You are doing an amazing job."
The three of us had a few more scars on us than we did the day we left, but we wore them like badges of honor. We successfully rode halfway up the African continent before Covid hit and tossed a wrench in our sprocket. After a year of waiting things out in Kenya and Uganda, Marisa and I decided that going back home to save up some cash and doing a full rebuild of the motorcycle would be a good use of our delayed travel plans. But before we wintered in Chicago, we wanted to tour the States, present at some overland expos, and take full advantage of the summer before we hunkered down to endure our first Chicago winter in four years.
Unknowingly, this would be the farewell tour to a member of our trio, one that had carried us nearly halfway across the globe. Our trusty steed was becoming less reliable as different failure codes flashed across my dash. After 85k of tough and overburdened miles, Peg was reflecting some of the abuse that I had put her through.I had asked a lot of that motorcycle, and it had performed better than I could have ever expected. Some may say that 85k miles is not the full lifespan of an expensive adventure motorcycle, but my mind flashes to the way people age. There will be significant differences between Kim Kardashian when she reaches her 50's versus a blue-collar coal miner who had spent decades of their life through difficulties and hard manual labor.
Marisa and I knew that Peg had served her time. Fixing her up via a full rebuild would cost 6k dollars or more, and there still may be hidden gremlins lurking deep within her components that aren't diagnosable until they present themselves in some foreign land.The good news is that Marisa and I still have the same wanderlust as we did so many years ago. The dream of riding through the plains of Mongolia are still alive and well. Our passion to explore the unknown has not faded in the slightest, and we have already chosen the next character of our story.
We can't wait to mount the newest member of Notier's Frontiers, but this story is not about what is to come, it is about the successes and triumphs that our honorably discharged motorcycle has faithfully guided us through, all with the enthusiasm of a new puppy. I will always remember the sound of her engine as she eagerly burst into life, ready for whatever nasty roads we may traverse down that particular day.
Marisa and Pegasus are both mythical creatures that have been crafted by the gods and by some source of unbelievable luck and fate, are a part of this little chauffeur's life. Another machine that has been forged by Hephaestus himself will be put through the same tests, if not more than its predecessor (minus any future salt flats).Ride alongside us via our YouTube Channel and check out my latest publications of two Adventure Motorcycle Journals to document your own epic quest!
Subscribe to Our Blog
