We Rode to the Edge of the Map and Waited

We spent three days riding battered motorcycles across the Guajira Peninsula—sand in our teeth, sunburned arms, the GPS signal fading in and out. The road ended in a village that felt like the last page of an atlas. At night, the sky was so clear it felt like the world had emptied out. I thought I’d feel triumphant, but mostly I felt small. My friend tried to take a photo, but it never looked right. We just sat there, helmets off, listening to the wind. I used to think reaching the farthest place would mean something. Maybe it does. But mostly, it’s just quiet. #Travel #TravelConfessions #EdgeOfTheMap