I am looking for my first line. I want the perfect opener. Where is my "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times?" "Call me Ishmael." Nah, already been done. Since it is now a cliche that a picture is worth a thousand words, perhaps I can use an image to get this party started. This both documents the start of my trip, and symbolizes the electricity of solitary adventure and the hopefulness at the beginning of the journey. So many epic ride reports have come before mine. As I may have mentioned a thousand times, in 2008, I was fortunate enough to have been voluntarily marooned at Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station, Antarctica. For the year that I was "on ice," I scoured this forum, determined to finally embark on an international ride of my own. Fulfilling that dream became my focus, and little by little I put together a best-of-breed list of tools and components that had worked for others, and fit my budget. In mid-November, 2008, I was finally released from the South Pole, after successful completion of my contract. In my mind, successful meant obligations realized, nobody died, I had some money in pocket. The first thing I did was to rent a DL650 "WeeStrom" on New Zealand's South Island, to refresh my drive and remind myself that the rider in me was still present. If you want a great place to rent a DRZ400, Transalp or V-Strom 650, you can't do better than the treatment that I got from Howard at BackRoadsBikes in Dunedin. While I sat at a desk, in an elevated station above two miles of compacted ice, unreachable by either resupply or rescue aircraft, I thought about what I would do when I got out, and what unrealized dreams I had. Back in the 1990s, I had a wonderful, classic BMW R100GS Paris Dakar. I loved that bike, and always imagined that I would take a Mexico tour on it. Years went by, both the bike and myself fell on hard times in the tech bust of the early millennium. The bike eventually was sold, and I replaced it with a VFR750. My dual-sporting went away, and subsequently I only rode short rides up twisty canyons. So, I browsed ADVRider. I read every book on moto touring that we had at South Pole, and we had quite a few. Fellow inmate Boarder06, lucky owner of the new XT660 Tenere, had brought several with him, including Striking Viking's "Two Wheels Through Terror." My hope was to use a bike that was a rough replica of my old PD, with modern parts, ease of maintenance, and a low cost. After years of waiting for the Africa Twin to come to the US, I finally accepted that it wasn't going to happen. The new Tenere looked great, but, alas, not a US bike, either. The new F800 looked wonderful, but far outside my price range. The ensuing technical dialogues and fantasy festivals kept me occupied as the auroras swirled overhead, the silence of the Antarctic plateau deafened us, and slowly, the darkness melted away as the sun returned at a glacial pace. Fast forward nearly a year. I returned to the US, got a worse deal than I fantasized I would negotiate on a 2009 KLR650, and set about farkling it with a vengeance. My friends LiteWait, iHop, and Sweetjeri76, here, endured lots of pre-trip talks, and lent invaluable handsas the project bike took shape. I now type this in shorts and flip-flops, on Isla Colon, in Panama's Bocas del Toro, stuffed after a huge breakfast of pancakes, fruit, fresh juice and Panamanian coffee. Bananaman is messaging me to start a ride report. I must silence the voices. I must begin this RR. I've only been on the road for four months, 7800 miles on a KLR, one face plant accident, several international riding partners, lots of dead animals, police, guns, a few cocktails, and, finally, some fulfillment of my ice dream to explore hot lands, foreign languages and different cultures on my own. This report won't be linear. Instead, I imagine it will be much like our memories, occurring in flashes of disconnected vignettes of experience, senses, songs and observations. I have to accept that I am not Melville or Victor Hugo. I'm just a hacker. A poor, filthy, moldy-Aerostich-wearing, KLR-riding hacker, as well. And this is my story.