New Milestone for Take A Way: Next Stop, Brazil
Interview / portrait.
Take A Way is a long-haul, purpose-driven motorcycle roadtrip that starts in Cayenne, French Guiana, and pushes deep into South America for 40,000+ km of riding. Beyond the pure thrill of distance, the project is built around meeting local associations working on environmental protection and education access for children—then supporting them with concrete, on-the-ground help. This interview captures the moment the journey turns toward Brazil: the first hard kilometers, the reality of Amazon logistics, and the human fuel that keeps a rider moving when the map gets heavy.
1/ Tell us about your Take A Way project
Take A Way is a humanitarian project I launched in partnership with Planet Ride. Starting from Cayenne, I’m setting out on a motorcycle adventure of more than 40,000 km across the heart of South America.
The goal isn’t only landscapes and adrenaline. I want to visit several local organizations that fight every day for environmental protection and education for younger generations, and bring them material support. It’s personal—and it’s what gives this roadtrip its direction when the days are long.
2/ Why did you choose Planet Ride?
While preparing the adventure, I reached out to the Planet Ride team. I immediately connected with how the platform works, and the first exchanges with the team were genuinely smooth and encouraging.
A collaboration with Planet Ride felt like a natural fit. My aim is to raise awareness around the causes I’m defending, so visibility matters. Planet Ride’s credibility and reach help amplify what Take A Way is—and why it exists. In return, I’m proud to carry the Planet Ride emblem out on the road and, hopefully, spark other riders to take their own first step. Life is short, routines are full, and it’s not always easy to build a project like this alone. I respect the work Planet Ride does to make ambitious journeys more accessible and better framed.
3/ Where does your passion for motorcycles and travel come from?
My passion for travel comes from my father. He’s a real adventurer—he traveled his whole life and even wrote a book about it. As a family, we were lucky to join him on several trips.
But it was Mongolia, when I was 9, that something clicked. At the time we lived in Beijing, and my father wanted to show us this “other world.” One morning I left the family yurt alone to watch sunrise from a small hill. Standing there, facing that untouched space, I remember thinking: “If this is life, I want to dedicate myself to experiences like this.” Eighteen years and nearly 30 countries later, I’m living the biggest one yet.
As for motorcycles—again, my father. He rode, and passed it on early: first on a small Piwi, then mopeds, 50cc, 125cc. At 19 I got my big-bike license, but I truly grew into it while traveling in India, New Zealand, and Australia. Riding brings a very specific kind of freedom: you and the machine become a single unit, constantly communicating—listening and responding.
4/ How can Take A Way raise awareness about ecosystems?
My objective isn’t only to “sensitize the internet” in the abstract. Through Take A Way, I want to highlight the daily work of people who protect the environment as their profession and their mission.
We often get approached to donate, or receive fundraising letters—but we rarely see what actually happens behind those requests. By documenting that side of my journey, I hope to bring something tangible: what these missions look like, what they need, what changes when support is real. If it helps rebuild trust between an audience and future organizations, that’s already a win. Without trust, solidarity doesn’t last.
For the associations, the impact is direct: fundraising done before the departure allows me to allocate a budget to each structure and buy the equipment they truly need—with them, not from afar.
Indirectly, I hope the trip encourages others to engage—volunteer, donate, or simply integrate a solidarity component into their own travels. Helping the people who welcome us may be the best way to say thank you.
5/ What motorcycle are you riding for this adventure?
I’m roaming South America with Baloo: a 2003 Kawasaki KLR 650C. It’s a simple, tough trail bike—effective, repairable, and honest.
I adapted it to match the trip: a larger fuel tank, protections, a center stand, a comfort seat, rear luggage racks… the list is long, and I regret none of it. Each morning, heading into the unknown, the bike feels less like a product and more like a companion. When you travel, you create an instant bond with your vehicle. I felt it before, in India, when I rented a Royal Enfield to explore Rajasthan.
6/ What can you tell us about Brazil by motorcycle?
Brazil is a country I’d call “easy” for motorcycle travelers. You need to watch the cost of living, but it’s generally straightforward to find fuel and places to sleep.
Early on, I had to cross part of the Amazon forest to reach the Amazon River from French Guiana. That section was tougher: around 150 km of dirt track with very few people around. The surface is in poor condition, and mistakes are expensive—especially in 35°C heat and 90% humidity, where a simple breakdown can turn into an ordeal.
Then came a reset: about two days by boat on the Amazon. After that, Brazil opens up—fascinating, vibrant. Film-like beaches, music everywhere, samba rhythms that leak into daily life. Along the coastline, the pace softens. Seafood is abundant, and afternoons in hammocks became a habit quickly. And of course football—here it’s practically a religion. Most evenings it’s easy to find people to kick a ball with, a simple way to meet locals even when language gets in the way.
Security-wise, the situation can feel complex. Elections can create tension, but nothing felt alarming to me at that time. Brazil is often labeled “dangerous.” You do need street sense, especially at night in certain areas—but honestly, that’s true in many countries.
Distances are huge, and road quality varies. Some long straight sections can be mentally draining, and they also square off your tires fast. Often the only “corners” are the zigzags you take to avoid potholes, donkeys, goats, and surprises on the shoulder. Recently, the environment changed: on the east coast, I finally found more curves running between sugarcane fields, plus occasional forest detours on small tracks just off the main road.
7/ Any standout moment so far?
At the very start in French Guiana, I went through a period of doubt. Lots of questions, uncertainty. People say the first step is the hardest—and it’s true. Once I left, I immediately felt relieved, certain I’d made the right choice.
But the real emotional hit came two weeks later. I was riding from São Luís toward Santo Amaro. After roughly an hour on the road, I crossed paths with my first fellow motorcycle travelers. We gave each other a huge wave—one of those gestures that says everything through a visor.
In that second, it clicked: I wasn’t only reading other people’s stories anymore. I was living one. Proud that I’d built the project, that I’d pushed through the hardest part—starting. I had tears in my eyes. A clean, powerful moment. I wish everyone could experience that kind of clarity at least once.
8/ What’s the next step for Take A Way?
Besides riding the entire Brazilian coast while hunting for a surf corner that feels like home, the next real step for Take A Way is supporting more than 40 children in the favelas of Rio.
Thanks to the French-Brazilian association Terr’Ativa, this support becomes concrete. During my visit to Rio, more than €1,100 will be used to buy school supplies for each child: pens, backpacks, schoolbooks, pencil cases… I’m impatient to carry out this action and make this part of the project real.
After that, I’ll head toward Argentina via Iguazu Falls—and a whole new chapter will open.
Follow the project here: Take A Way
Planet Ride craft tip (how we pace long days)
On big, straight Brazilian transit days, plan your rhythm around real fatigue, not kilometers: aim for one longer riding block in the morning, then shorten the afternoon. Heat and monotony stack up fast—especially on rough tarmac—and the last hour is where mistakes happen.
À savoir aujourd’hui
The spirit of this story remains true: Brazil can be welcoming to riders, but distances, road quality, and neighborhood-level security require judgement. Before leaving, verify current entry requirements, local riding regulations, and the situation in the specific states you plan to cross.
