I didn’t have to drive 2’200 Kilometers in four days. It would have cost me a phone call to postpone my reservation in the backpacker hostel. But I wanted. Three times seven hours driving time and five and a half hours on the fourth day. On a stiff, narrow saddle of an EXC. It wasn’t to prove myself, more so a challenge to make an experience. Also I didn’t have an expectation to myself. Honestly, I didn’t think a lot at all. The bike came late back from service and so I went.

When the road is a track of deep, loose sand with dips of bull dust, balance is the secret. It’s like dancing tight with someone you like. Your motorcycle is your partner. You register every move it makes, holding it gentle. You have an idea which path to go, sometimes you lead and sometimes you follow. Time becomes unimportant, the border between the two involved blurs, dissolves. A joyful play, blind trust. If you in this moment forget every effort that it took to come here, than you found mojo.

A rush of energy set free when I arrived in Broome on day four. I felt like a conqueror, the world on my feet. The following days I was surfing on a wave of inner peace, acceptance of being on and love to the world. Living into the day like there’s no tomorrow. Why? Fcku why! No looking for a reason anymore. No comparing with others. No expectation other than the sea water is salty. The awareness about the transiency of this moment made it even more precious. Here, I found mojo.

Sitting on the edge of a natural pool in a lonesome gorge in the middle of nowhere, looking at the millions of stars reflecting on the surface of the water. It’s these little moments that make up everything. They’re out there, go for it!