Week 15: Fin Del Mundo–Reaching the End of the World

Hey everyone, it's Alexander.

This is it. The final week. After three and a half months, 15 weeks, and over 22,000 km, the journey is done. I have officially made it to Ushuaia—the end of the world.

The final days of this ride were tough—brutal winds, cold temperatures, relentless exhaustion, and an unexpected solution for getting Hildy home. And now, I’m back in Toronto, trying to process everything that’s happened.

A Moment of Reflection—$26,380 Raised for Inspirations Studio

Before I dive into the final days on the road, I need to take a moment to acknowledge something incredible.

Together, we raised $26,380 for Inspirations Studio.

That’s beyond what I ever imagined when I set out on this ride. So many people donated—friends, strangers, fellow riders—all coming together to support women and gender-diverse folks in rebuilding their lives.

That support kept me going on the hardest days. Knowing that people gave what they could, out of pure kindness and empathy, was humbling. So, to everyone who donated, shared, and cheered me on—thank you.

Alright, now back to the road.

Monday: A Forced Stop & A Moment to Think

I woke up in Rio Gallegos, hearing the wind howling all night. Yesterday had been rough—a yellow wind warning day. Today it was an orange wind warning, meaning, "potentially disrupting plans and causing travel delays, road and rail closures, interruption to power, and the potential risk to life and property." The ferry to Tierra del Fuego wasn’t running until 9 PM, so I was not going anywhere.

Some random photos from Rio Gallegos.

At first, that frustrated me. So close to the end, and now this. But then, I realized—this was a rare chance to stop and think. Firstly, I am really humbled by this trip. The sheer amount of people who donated, giving what they could, simply out of kindness, blew me away.

Secondly I reflected on my own life. I shouldn't be alive-not with how much I drank. Not with what I put myself through. But alcoholics are built tough, because they have to be. Normal people wouldn’t survive drinking like I did. It was only through sheer will that I got sober, and that same will got me through this trip. Near the end, when the fun had long disappeared and it was just exhaustion and pain, the only thing that kept me going was pure determination.

I also thought about my parents and I am thankful for the how they raised me; or didn't raise me. They were older when they had me and I was pretty feral, figuring things out on my own, surviving by will and necessity. That’s what got me here. And now? I was days away from finishing this journey.

Tuesday: The Final Border Crossings & New Friends

The winds were still howling when I set out in the morning, straining my neck as the wind bounced off my helmet, but at least the ferry was running. At the terminal, I finally met the two Italian riders I’d been crossing paths for days at gas stations or on the road —Silvano and Antonio. We rode onto the ferry together—a rough, choppy crossing, even on a so-called ‘normal’ wind day.

Then came the border crossings. The first one was a bit of a mess as a busload of people arrived at the same time, so we had to wait in line for a while. The second was much smoother. By the time we rolled into Rio Grande, the day of two border crossings and ferry ride had been long and exhausting, so we all booked into a motorcycle hostel run by Miguel—an absolute legend who welcomes riders from all over the world. That night, we ate, laughed, and shared stories. It’s crazy how quickly you bond with other riders out here.

Wednesday: The Final Push to Ushuaia

I woke up the next morning for the final push to Ushuaia. After weeks of straight, dry, desolate landscapes, suddenly, mountains and curves appeared. And I realized—I had forgotten how to ride them. It took me a while to adjust, and rode slow to let it all soak it. This place is gorgeous. The mountains aren’t quite like the Rockies, but they’re rugged, dramatic, and wild. My new Italian friends described the scenery as similar to Norway.

And after weeks of seeing nothing but sand and open plains, I was suddenly surrounded by trees, rivers, and towering peaks.

And then, I saw it. The first Ushuaia sign.

I pulled up, stopped the bike, and just stared. I was breathless. I was in shock.

After 15 weeks, 22,000 km, exhaustion, freezing temperatures, heat, dehydration, wind, pain, wondering where I will rest my head for the evening, and sheer willpower—I was here.

In the future, as I process it all, I may have better words to describe what I was feeling in that moment, but I was, and still am, fucking speechless.

We took pictures, soaked it in, and then continued on to Tierra del Fuego National Park—where the road officially ends. This was it. The true Fin Del Mundo–the end of the world. We savoured the moment.

An Unexpected Reunion

That night, something wild happened. My first and second cousins, Pam and Lisa, who live in Nunavut—at the top of the world—were in Ushuaia that night. So, the Italians, Pam, Lisa, and I all met up for a fish dinner to celebrate. It was the perfect ending to an impossible journey.

Later, back the hotel, I talked to Katy, then collapsed into one of the deepest sleeps of my life with the weight of the journey off my shoulders. For the first time in three and a half months, I woke up with nothing to do. It was a strange feeling.

Sorting out Hildy's Fate–And a Rainbow Sign

For several weeks, I had been stressing about getting Hildy home. Every option pointed to riding 3,017 km to Buenos Aires and another ten days on the road. After 22,000+km, I needed that like a hole in the head, but it seemed the only way.

I also looked into selling Hildy but that was problematic as well. Ushuaia is a Free Trade Zone. For a bike like my BMW GS, the new owner would have to pay a hefty duty to take it out of Ushuaia, which no one would do. This has been weighing on my mind for many weeks and as I was getting closer, I was almost ready to pull the trigger in Santiago and take the bike to Buenos Aires, skipping the whole bottom part due to sheer exhaustion. But Katy and our friend Mary said I was too damn close to not see this to the finish and that we would figure out the bike so I pressed on.

Then, out of nowhere, Silvano and Antonio connected me with one of their friends in Ushuaia who was shipping a container to Europe. And just like that, Hildy had a new home.

She’ll be going to Paris where she’ll be waiting for future European adventures. The motorcycle adventures of Katy and Alexander will be way shorter, no more than a week, and we'll be using Hildy to tour. To top it off, it was a cheaper solution than riding the bike to Buenos Aires and shipping it home.

And as we rode to a notary to finalize the paperwork, a giant rainbow appeared.

After dropping off the bike, I spent the rest of the evening sorting out all the flight tickets. I am to board a plane in Ushuaia at 7:30 am and 23 hours later, I should be in Toronto. It’s Ushuaia to Buenos Aires, switch airports, then hop on an Air Canada flight to Sao Paulo and then Sao Paulo to Toronto. I should be home Sunday and holding hands with Katy, which I'm looking forward to.

Friday was an easy day. I didn't have to actually think about anything much, which was really nice. I had my breakfast coffee, more coffee, lunch, more coffee and more coffee. I walked into town for some typical tourist shopping and had a celebratory meal, packed all the bags and set the alarm for six tomorrow morning. 

Wow. Three and a half months. It hasn't hit me yet.

Last day in Ushuaia

Flying Home

I woke up ahead of the alarm, excited but uneasy. Everything I’d read said I had to be with the bike to leave Argentina, and not having Hildy with me was weighing on my mind. Would I even be allowed to exit? I was about to find out.

I boarded the first flight from Ushuaia to Buenos Aires, a 3.5-hour ride, then grabbed a shuttle to head to the international airport. Over coffee and sweet croissants (which I love, by the way), I kept wondering—will I get stopped at customs? Every border stamp in my passport was tied to a temporary vehicle permit, and with no bike, was this going to be a problem?

At the airport, I cleared the X-ray and the automated customs machine. Green light. The door opened, and—just like that—I was out. After three weeks of stress over this, I simply walked through. The adventure wasn’t over until I was home, but so far, everything was going surprisingly well.

The next leg took me to São Paulo, Brazil, where I had to disembark, grab my luggage, clear customs again, and reboard the exact same plane. The whole process took 2.5 hours, and then I settled in for the 10-hour flight to Toronto.

After three and a half months on a bike, the idea of sitting in a middle seat for that long was its own kind of torture. The flight was bumpy over the Amazon, with a massive storm lighting up the clouds below. It was surreal. We passed over the Gulf of Mexico (it's still called that!), over the fascist States of America, and I managed to get maybe two hours of sleep. By the eighth hour, my legs were screaming for movement.

Finally, Toronto.

Heavy rain delayed the luggage, but none of that mattered when I saw Katy waiting for me at the airport. She had woken up ridiculously early to pick me up, and the second I saw her, the exhaustion disappeared.

I was home.

The Journey is Over–But Not the Story

When we got home I had a celebratory breakfast of too much bacon, too many eggs and a little nap, and then this afternoon, another rainbow welcoming me home. I don't know what the significance of all these rainbows are because it's been quite sometime since I actually saw one yet in the last two weeks I’ve seen three, which is phenomenal, but there it was.

Meanwhile, Hildy is going to Italy and then France. I am home–exhausted and trying to process it all. It is time to get reacquainted with my old life, heal, contemplate and digest this journey.

To everyone who followed along, donated, and cheered me on—thank you. I don’t know if I would have kept going without knowing you were all out there, riding with me in spirit.

There will be a get-together soon—we’ll keep you posted.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.