- 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 By Tim NotierThere 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! By: Tim NotierMarisa 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: 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. |
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