There’s a certain kind of silence you only find after a full day on gravel roads.
By the time I reached camp, the sun had already started disappearing behind the desert hills. Dust covered everything — the bike, the luggage, my jacket — but the air had finally cooled down after hours of riding through the heat.
I pitched the tent beside a small fire pit and spent the next hour collecting wood from the surrounding area while the last light faded across the landscape.
These quieter moments have become one of my favourite parts of travelling this way.
No traffic. No schedule. No noise beyond the occasional wind moving through the grass.
Just the bike parked beside the tent and the feeling of being completely removed from normal life for a while.
Later that night the sky cleared completely. Thousands of stars appeared overhead while the fire slowly burned down beside me. Somewhere far off in the distance I could hear thunder rolling across the desert.
The next morning started before sunrise.
Coffee, packing gear, checking the bike, and another long road waiting ahead.
