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a thousand years old, stood like guardians against the horizon.
When the last tourists left and the wind grew colder, we pitched our tent. The sun vanished, temperatures plummeted, and the moon rose with a brilliance that turned the salt into silver. We could walk without a torch, the ground glowing faintly beneath our feet. A
hundred kilometres from the nearest town, utterly alone, we stood beneath a sky dense with stars, the Milky Way arching across it like a bridge.
Before dawn, we woke to silence and frost. The first light spilled across the salt, washing everything in pink and gold. We held our mugs of coffee and watched as a new day was born.
Of all our travels, it’ s moments like these that remain, fragile, wordless, infinite. The kind of moments that remind us what happiness truly means: a motorcycle, an open sky, and the quiet certainty of being exactly where you’ re meant to be.
FC & SB
TRAVERSE 148