Travelling the World on Two Wheels
- India Gustin
- Apr 4
- 8 min read
Updated: Apr 7
Three fearless travellers, two vintage motorbikes, one trusty bicycle, and a whole lot of unexpected adventures
Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu once said: “A good traveller has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” Clearly, he never tried crossing Australia on a 50cc motorbike from the ’70s or pedalling through the Nullarbor Plain on a bicycle while surviving on dumpster-dived snacks. For Bea, Helmut, and Adorján, arriving is rarely the point. Whether it’s roaring down dusty roads on vintage two-stroke relics or spinning through unforgiving landscapes on a steel-framed bike, their journeys aren’t about getting there fast — speed is optional, breakdowns are guaranteed, and arrival is...a vague suggestion.

Setting off on a world trip is a huge leap in itself. Doing it on two wheels? That’s a whole new level of betting on yourself. The quest of unveiling true freedom is not a new concept, and neither is the idea of slow travel. But trying them out on two-wheels definitely adds a little extra edge to the journey. Bea and Helmut, a German travel couple and motorcycle fanatics, set off on their world trip back in 2011 which lasted five years. But because that wasn’t challenging enough for them, they decided to do it on two choppers from ‘98 and ‘93 and called it an adventure.

“I more or less grew up with motorcycles,” says Helmut. “I bought a motorcycle before I even got a car.” When it turned out that Bea would join his passion for these steel stallions, the idea of selling everything they owned and leaving on a world trip seemed like a no brainer. They went straight to Southeast Asia, riding through rice fields and coastal bays before flying their bikes over to Australia. They spent over a year down-under before heading to New Zealand, then South America, riding all the way to North America before heading back towards Germany. They had amassed a total of 155 thousand kilometres.
It was 2016 by that point and whilst they were happy to finally celebrate Christmas with the family after such a long time, they missed the long stretches of road. So before long, they realised that what they craved the most was “to feel life” once again. So they restored two 50cc two-stroke Kreidler Florett motorbikes from '69 and ’75 and shipped them to Australia, currently (and very slowly) completing a lap. The bikes they used on their world trip weren’t unreliable enough, it turns out.

Of course, they did their research back home before hitting the roads, going on test rides and seeing if such slow and little bikes would hold up. What they couldn’t know for sure however, was if commanding vehicles similar to caffeinated lawnmowers for months on end would be something they would enjoy. “It turns out we really love it,” says Bea. Which is why no one is rushing them to complete a lap of Australia. In six whole months they managed to cross the sprawling, limitless wonderland that is... Queensland. “And a little bit of New South Wales,” adds Bea, laughing. Someone alert the record books.
The country’s harsh terrain and weather is exactly where the German power-couple find the most amount of freedom. Who needs a predictable ride when you can have a baptism by mud, wind, and a sunburn all at once? That’s freedom on two wheels. “With a motorcycle, you are in the environment,” Helmut explains. “When it is raining, you get wet. When it is cold, you are freezing. When it’s hot, you are sweating. When there are flowers around, the smell is so much more intense than if you were travelling in a car.”

They’re not the only two-wheel adventurers who admire the unforgiving nature of the outback. Just a few years before, Hungarian explorer Adorján Illés, had left his home to travel to 39 different countries on a bicycle. (So a decaffeinated lawnmower?) That’s 46 thousand kilometres over the time-span of four years. Circa two years into his trip, after crossing over the rest of east Europe, all the ‘stans into Southeast Asia and flying his trusty companion to the land down under, Adorján was about to face his biggest life lesson.
“Australia has a special place in my heart,” he says. “Not just because of the people and nature. When I cycled across the Nullarbor Plain in the Australian outback, it was probably the most difficult part of my journey.” Adorján recalls the life-threatening situations he encountered, having only his light-weight tent and steel frame on wheels as protection.

Between the vast stretches of deserted land, having little to no reception, no towns across the horizon and definitely no shops, he had pretty much been left to his own devices. As a rule of thumb when travelling for such long distances on a bike, you want to pack as light as possible. Adorján mentions that during the four years he cycled through continents, the average weight of his bike and all his gear was about fifty kilograms. During his stint across the outback, it went up by twenty kilograms, all in the name of loading up on food since civilisation was far and few between.
Australia had also threatened to incinerate his €5-a-day budget. You see, Adorján first set out on this expedition with a friend. After all was planned and mapped out, they realised that to be able to sustain the extent of this expedition, they had to adhere to a strict budget of €5 a day. In Southeast Asia, doing so was a piece of cake. Once he set off on his own in Australia however, the country chewed up his budget, spat it out and then charged him for the privilege.

In his first single shop at a supermarket, Adorján had already spent four times his daily budget. “I started reading blogs and found a solution,” he says, intently. “Dumpster diving.” Legally speaking, this practice is in the grey zone. The real crime is the amount of perfectly good food which gets thrown out on the daily. This became part of Adorján’s travel routine. “Every day or second day, I would go to the big supermarkets and I would check the bins. At one point, I started getting way too excited about it,” he laughs.
Bea and Helmut also advocate for worrying more about potholes than the thickness of your wallet. “If it’s worth something to you, it shouldn’t be about money,” says Helmut, simultaneously joking about selling Bea’s kidney along with their other possessions before departing for their world trip.

Since starting their successful motorcycle travel blog back in 2010, they’ve been inundated with questions on how they can afford two-wheeled machines and still have enough left to travel. “We recognised that people will buy the toughest, most expensive gear to try and create memories with,” he explains. “But it’s not about the gear, it’s about the spirit.” Bea adds: “Take what you have and make the best out of it.”
If watching them throttle their way through untamed wilderness on determined bumblebees doesn’t inspire to follow their advice, what will? The best part is that it transforms whatever two-wheeled vehicle your riding into rolling conversation-starters that make people wonder about the stories you’ve collected along the way. Pulling up on these unassuming frames practically begs for questions — mostly along the lines of, ‘You came from where? On that?’
“What we found out is that the motorcycle is immediately the bridge to the people” says Helmut. “Often, people in cars start talking to us. For many people, we are a symbol for freedom. We can go wherever we want.” Bea adds that the idea of the motorcycle means people don’t generally put them at a social level. They’re not the rich Westerners obnoxiously rocking up in a Harley or 4x4 Overlanders. “You don’t get put into a box. You are just a traveller,” she continues, whilst Helmut says, “We never feel overdressed or underdressed. The motorbike just fits in everywhere.”

Whilst maybe not as rebellious as a motorbike, Adorján can relate to the head-turns he would receive whilst cycling through towns and cities. “It’s the best kind of passport,” he says. "Everyone will stop you.” It was such an easy way to meet new people and start conversations. This wasn’t the only advantage it carried with it. Surprisingly, the speed was another. “It’s faster than walking and slower than travelling by car. For me, it was an ideal speed for exploring the world,” he unironically admits.
The most common denominator between the two ways of travelling around the world — besides the number of wheels — is the extreme level of minimalism required. None of them however, seemed unfazed at thought of it in the beginning. “It was maybe one of the easiest things to do,” Adorján states. “And I was a complete rookie.” Upon returning home after four years of living off four t-shirts, three bikes shorts and a hoodie, he was shocked to find that he had stored forty-five t-shirts at his parents house. “I just didn’t understand why anybody would need all those t-shirts,” Adorján admits, shaking his head at his past self.

For Bea and Helmut, this type of minimalism defines their freedom. “Having these few things, gives you a lot more time to live,” Helmut outlines. “It’s not about having nothing, it’s about having just the things you enjoy.” With a handful of clothing items each — and admittedly the rest of the space occupied by camera and filming gear — they don’t need anything else. “You can’t wear more than this anyway,” Bea says, making a fair point. “It doesn’t feel like minimalism to us anymore.”
Bea, Helmut and Adorján all prove one thing: when it really comes down to it, the best adventures don’t come down to who does it the quickest. It's about fully immersing yourself in the environment — rain or shine — and talking to strangers when you’re stopped at a red light. After thousands of kilometres and countless challenges, they haven’t just proven that two wheels are enough, they’ve shown that sometimes it’s better to embrace the chaos rather than trying to control it. From navigating the Australian outback on temperamental motorbikes to cycling solo through unforgiving landscapes, they’ve faced breakdowns, budget nightmares, and isolation head-on. What makes their stories remarkable isn’t the mileage or the destinations but the willingness to go slow, meet people, and make it work with whatever they have. In a world obsessed with speed and luxury, they’ve chosen a different kind of freedom. It is messy, unpredictable, and absolutely worth it.
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