September 12, 2014
After Garze, pass the guru praying in a field then navigate through a large temple with dozens of young men running around in yellow and red robes. Exit through the back gate they will unlock for you, ride your bike for a couple of kilometers along a single track of dirt and past a stupa. You will find a tiny and ancient temple set into the mountains, where an old monk resides with a lama and a couple of nuns. After purchasing eggs, as the nuns led me the long way around the temple to continue traversing clockwise along the outer wall, I return to my room upstairs. 
The horses are below me, the other monk is the room next to me reading ancient texts and reading…I can feel the breathing of the walls all around me. Standing in cheap purple Chinese thermals, barefoot, teeth chattering and my arms wrapped around me. I have no other clothes as everything is wet after tipping head first into the hot springs a few hundred meters away. Silently, I slowly move my body along the concrete covered wood planked floors with my eyes examining every brush stroke along the walls. Reaching out to touch the colors and shapes, my finger tips feel the cold walls and the story begins to come alive in front of me. There are magical beasts, great spiritual figures, symbolism that seems familiar but from where…and when. I sense synchronicity with all the inanimate around me. Everything seems so quiet, yet so vivid and lucid. Am I the only one that can hear this…surely not… 
"Hey…you" is whispered from a hatchway in the roof. Grounding myself, I look for Brandon, a cyclist from San Francisco I had met a week earlier in a remote Tibetan town, also on a Saga. I climb the rungs feeling every grain of bamboo in my arches and I am now at one of the highest points in the valley at the base of glacier topped mountains. 
We say nothing, stand silently, faces turned upwards to the heavens. I begin to see the first stars of my own constellation. It would take years and thousands of miles to finally make out the Lone Huntress with her faithful chiru at side…eternally traveling northwest, the direction of the unknown.

After Garze, pass the guru praying in a field then navigate through a large temple with dozens of young men running around in yellow and red robes. Exit through the back gate they will unlock for you, ride your bike for a couple of kilometers along a single track of dirt and past a stupa. You will find a tiny and ancient temple set into the mountains, where an old monk resides with a lama and a couple of nuns. After purchasing eggs, as the nuns led me the long way around the temple to continue traversing clockwise along the outer wall, I return to my room upstairs.

The horses are below me, the other monk is the room next to me reading ancient texts and reading…I can feel the breathing of the walls all around me. Standing in cheap purple Chinese thermals, barefoot, teeth chattering and my arms wrapped around me. I have no other clothes as everything is wet after tipping head first into the hot springs a few hundred meters away. Silently, I slowly move my body along the concrete covered wood planked floors with my eyes examining every brush stroke along the walls. Reaching out to touch the colors and shapes, my finger tips feel the cold walls and the story begins to come alive in front of me. There are magical beasts, great spiritual figures, symbolism that seems familiar but from where…and when. I sense synchronicity with all the inanimate around me. Everything seems so quiet, yet so vivid and lucid. Am I the only one that can hear this…surely not…

"Hey…you" is whispered from a hatchway in the roof. Grounding myself, I look for Brandon, a cyclist from San Francisco I had met a week earlier in a remote Tibetan town, also on a Saga. I climb the rungs feeling every grain of bamboo in my arches and I am now at one of the highest points in the valley at the base of glacier topped mountains.

We say nothing, stand silently, faces turned upwards to the heavens. I begin to see the first stars of my own constellation. It would take years and thousands of miles to finally make out the Lone Huntress with her faithful chiru at side…eternally traveling northwest, the direction of the unknown.

August 24, 2014
Standing next to a cliff with fresh ice melt trickling into a stream, weaving between hundreds of animal skulls and pelts; the smell of the rot is overwhelming. I carefully, and respectfully, walk away from the site while never turning my back upon the site of ancient rituals and magic. A small group of Tibetans greet me and there is a community of three or four families living in permanent, mud packed structures. I watch her laughing to herself as she marches along the perimeter of a mad packed wall. Walking towards the stupa, she slips her hand into my palm. Closing her tiny, weather worn fingers around my hand and we look at each other and smile with a child-like gaze. No one is leading nor lagging; traveling together in unison and harmony; souls complementing one another. The touch reminds me I’m human, with all my insecurities and fears; overwhelmed with the innocence, imagination, and purity of the child’s love. We play with the horses, laugh under the prayer flags while inspecting and investigating everything that sparks our curiosity. She falls over with giggles after watching my attempt to milk the goats, even after her excellent hands-on instructions. She is flying around all of us, feet barely ever touching the ground, buzzing with energy and joy. Her brightness and warmth glows as intense as the last, and single ray of sunshine.

Standing next to a cliff with fresh ice melt trickling into a stream, weaving between hundreds of animal skulls and pelts; the smell of the rot is overwhelming. I carefully, and respectfully, walk away from the site while never turning my back upon the site of ancient rituals and magic. A small group of Tibetans greet me and there is a community of three or four families living in permanent, mud packed structures. I watch her laughing to herself as she marches along the perimeter of a mad packed wall. Walking towards the stupa, she slips her hand into my palm. Closing her tiny, weather worn fingers around my hand and we look at each other and smile with a child-like gaze. No one is leading nor lagging; traveling together in unison and harmony; souls complementing one another. The touch reminds me I’m human, with all my insecurities and fears; overwhelmed with the innocence, imagination, and purity of the child’s love. We play with the horses, laugh under the prayer flags while inspecting and investigating everything that sparks our curiosity. She falls over with giggles after watching my attempt to milk the goats, even after her excellent hands-on instructions. She is flying around all of us, feet barely ever touching the ground, buzzing with energy and joy. Her brightness and warmth glows as intense as the last, and single ray of sunshine.

August 10, 2014
Modern day society has no place for those of us who have no desire to be leaders and refuse to be simply led. There are a few places left on this earth that allows us curious wanderers and rejects of the world to be free and live anonymously to learn and develop our true self and accept one’s purest form of identity. We can only have one perfect relationship in life, and that’s with ourself; once we’ve learned to accept and love all our imperfections. Not enough love in the world these days, folks…to all my fellow loners, misfits, and dreamers…it’s time for a revolution of consciousness.

Modern day society has no place for those of us who have no desire to be leaders and refuse to be simply led. There are a few places left on this earth that allows us curious wanderers and rejects of the world to be free and live anonymously to learn and develop our true self and accept one’s purest form of identity. We can only have one perfect relationship in life, and that’s with ourself; once we’ve learned to accept and love all our imperfections. Not enough love in the world these days, folks…to all my fellow loners, misfits, and dreamers…it’s time for a revolution of consciousness.

August 5, 2014
"Just choose one, Moseman…both will you lead you somewhere". At a crossroads where I don’t have a legal permit to be, only 2 buses passing a day, 1 liter of water remaining, eating emergency food rations, and extended time at that altitude was causing horrendous physical effects, I was predicting my demise…you don’t have time to sit at a crossroads examining the paths to see which seems to show a history of more travel or kicking dirt around trying to forsee what will be at the end of each road. It’s not about the path we choose in life, it’s about making a choice and then cycling through with conviction, passion, dedication, free thought, and open heart. It’s not what route you choose that matters, it’s how you live through the journey that you felt was the "right"one at that moment. People say they are "lost", no, they aren’t…they have chosen not to choose…they haven’t yet begun their journey. How can you be lost in life when you aren’t even living? This ain’t the gospel…just the inner-ramblings of a long-distance-lunatic-cyclist on a saga with skies in the eyes and a fiery heart that rules my journey. 

"Just choose one, Moseman…both will you lead you somewhere". At a crossroads where I don’t have a legal permit to be, only 2 buses passing a day, 1 liter of water remaining, eating emergency food rations, and extended time at that altitude was causing horrendous physical effects, I was predicting my demise…you don’t have time to sit at a crossroads examining the paths to see which seems to show a history of more travel or kicking dirt around trying to forsee what will be at the end of each road. It’s not about the path we choose in life, it’s about making a choice and then cycling through with conviction, passion, dedication, free thought, and open heart. It’s not what route you choose that matters, it’s how you live through the journey that you felt was the "right"one at that moment. People say they are "lost", no, they aren’t…they have chosen not to choose…they haven’t yet begun their journey. How can you be lost in life when you aren’t even living? This ain’t the gospel…just the inner-ramblings of a long-distance-lunatic-cyclist on a saga with skies in the eyes and a fiery heart that rules my journey. 

August 3, 2014
Hours spent sitting along the banks of Namucuo, the highest (alpine) lake on Earth, watching the current bring the most crystal clear water to my feet. Complete silence except for a single heartbeat, the pulsing of my own blood, and the water gently rolling and crashing to accompany the beat of my own rhythm. No one around for as far as eyes could see, small schools of fish in the water, massive coal black ravens along the bank tending to themselves, and insects skimming across the surface. The waters and skies merging into one along the horizon, no longer able to differentiate between earth and the heavens. We are one and at the mercy of it all. 

Hours spent sitting along the banks of Namucuo, the highest (alpine) lake on Earth, watching the current bring the most crystal clear water to my feet. Complete silence except for a single heartbeat, the pulsing of my own blood, and the water gently rolling and crashing to accompany the beat of my own rhythm. No one around for as far as eyes could see, small schools of fish in the water, massive coal black ravens along the bank tending to themselves, and insects skimming across the surface. The waters and skies merging into one along the horizon, no longer able to differentiate between earth and the heavens. We are one and at the mercy of it all. 

July 22, 2014
Speaking to the neighbors during an evening stroll through the gardens along the edge of the Pamirs, before breaking fast for Ramadan.
In Tajikistan, you can encounter villages predominately of women and children, as many men are working out of the country such as in Russia. I’m not sure if there many other places I’ve felt so safe and welcomed, by all.
Earlier in the day, this older woman had insisted on giving me a bath. As I’m standing in the mud packed wash room, modestly with all my undergarments on, she insists I take EVERYTHING off and get in the tub. I’m always up for an adventure and experience and this surely was…and will never be forgotten.
Later the women, children, and I would dance in a room together and that evening I would share a room with her and the youngest boy in this photo.

Speaking to the neighbors during an evening stroll through the gardens along the edge of the Pamirs, before breaking fast for Ramadan.

In Tajikistan, you can encounter villages predominately of women and children, as many men are working out of the country such as in Russia. I’m not sure if there many other places I’ve felt so safe and welcomed, by all.

Earlier in the day, this older woman had insisted on giving me a bath. As I’m standing in the mud packed wash room, modestly with all my undergarments on, she insists I take EVERYTHING off and get in the tub. I’m always up for an adventure and experience and this surely was…and will never be forgotten.

Later the women, children, and I would dance in a room together and that evening I would share a room with her and the youngest boy in this photo.

June 24, 2014
Zorna stands next to her husband in a slum camp developed for garment workers near Dhaka, Bangladesh. February 2014
This young woman is approximately 25 years old and has resided here for the last 10 years. The young couple has one son together that lives with extended family in their hometown of Jamalpur-Sherpur. I was told that the two must reside in separate quarters of the camp, as men and women are separated to prevent problems from arising.
This portrait received an Honorable Mention from the 2014 Professional Women Photographers Open Call.

Zorna stands next to her husband in a slum camp developed for garment workers near Dhaka, Bangladesh. February 2014

This young woman is approximately 25 years old and has resided here for the last 10 years. The young couple has one son together that lives with extended family in their hometown of Jamalpur-Sherpur. I was told that the two must reside in separate quarters of the camp, as men and women are separated to prevent problems from arising.

This portrait received an Honorable Mention from the 2014 Professional Women Photographers Open Call.

April 15, 2014
Tibetan girl poses, inside the tent used for cooking and food preparation.
If you have an iPhone/iPad/mobile device. There is a free eBook available for download of selected images from Tibet. It’s a free download until Friday, April 18th 2012
Visit: http://store.blurb.com/ebooks/469448-life-on-the-tibetan-plateau

Tibetan girl poses, inside the tent used for cooking and food preparation.

If you have an iPhone/iPad/mobile device. There is a free eBook available for download of selected images from Tibet. It’s a free download until Friday, April 18th 2012

Visit: http://store.blurb.com/ebooks/469448-life-on-the-tibetan-plateau

April 13, 2014
A written piece and published images from Tibet were featured in the annual Brooks Bugle for 2014. You can download, and read the entire article at: http://issuu.com/brooksengland/docs/bugle-2014
www.wandercyclist.com

A written piece and published images from Tibet were featured in the annual Brooks Bugle for 2014. You can download, and read the entire article at: http://issuu.com/brooksengland/docs/bugle-2014

www.wandercyclist.com

April 9, 2014
Bangladesh is noted for having some of the worst traffic and road conditions in the world. What is astonishing is that young men risk their life on tractors, on top of buses, hanging off of “people movers” which is like a covered pickup truck, to move around the country. Often to go to work and earn about a $1 a day. I guess it’s true what they say, “desperate measures for desperate times.”
Rarely I saw smiles of the men on these types of autos and it wasn’t until I rolled down a window and showed my face they would flash their beautiful smiles.

Bangladesh is noted for having some of the worst traffic and road conditions in the world. What is astonishing is that young men risk their life on tractors, on top of buses, hanging off of “people movers” which is like a covered pickup truck, to move around the country. Often to go to work and earn about a $1 a day. I guess it’s true what they say, “desperate measures for desperate times.”

Rarely I saw smiles of the men on these types of autos and it wasn’t until I rolled down a window and showed my face they would flash their beautiful smiles.

April 6, 2014
A man weighs garlic and roots at a local market in Bogura, Bangladesh.

A man weighs garlic and roots at a local market in Bogura, Bangladesh.

March 29, 2014
A young girl poses near the banks of the Jamuna river, Bangladesh.

A young girl poses near the banks of the Jamuna river, Bangladesh.

March 24, 2014
View from inside a silodrome, also known as The Wall of Death.
Spectators in northern Bangladesh await for the show to begin. Men will stunt ride motorbikes, usually 200cc or smaller, on this track. It’s one of the best shows anyone will witness in their lifetime.

View from inside a silodrome, also known as The Wall of Death.

Spectators in northern Bangladesh await for the show to begin. Men will stunt ride motorbikes, usually 200cc or smaller, on this track. It’s one of the best shows anyone will witness in their lifetime.

March 23, 2014
Portrait of a brick factory laborer in Bangladesh. These men tend to the kilns, which is one of the most dangerous part of the brick making process. They stand on top of the kiln and continually pour coal into the furnace. These kilns have been known to collapse while the bricks are firing. 

Portrait of a brick factory laborer in Bangladesh. These men tend to the kilns, which is one of the most dangerous part of the brick making process. They stand on top of the kiln and continually pour coal into the furnace. These kilns have been known to collapse while the bricks are firing. 

March 22, 2014
A woman and child walk along the banks of a lake in northwestern Bangladesh. Bangladesh faces many environmental issues dealing with water. Flooding during the rainy season along the southern shore and then also lowering water levels of the lakes. The low level effects agriculture and transportation.

A woman and child walk along the banks of a lake in northwestern Bangladesh. Bangladesh faces many environmental issues dealing with water. Flooding during the rainy season along the southern shore and then also lowering water levels of the lakes. The low level effects agriculture and transportation.

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