Are You Deep or Superficial? Thoughts From A 9th Century Benedictine Monastery In Spain

It’s funny. This WorldRider blog has over 500 posts in its archive. I started it in 2004, right around the time I began planning my life-changing, epic motorcycle journey around the world. You know, the journey that inspired my best-selling book, “FORKS.” For three years, I wrote religiously, nearly every day. I’d spend hours riding hundreds of miles, then land in a new town or city, regroup, get out of my riding gear, grab a beer, and explore. But before digging deeper into the local scene, I’d sit down at my computer and write about the day’s experiences.

Those posts were always revealing—real stories that came out naturally. And with each dispatch from some exotic locale, I shared the beauty, wonder, and curiosity that inspired me. My photos brought the stories to life, and readers from all over the world would follow along, encouraging me to keep going. In many ways, the blog—and the people who read it—fueled my journey.

To date, I’ve traveled more than 100,000 miles through over 90 countries. That first journey alone took me three years and 60,000 miles through 35 countries.

But today, here I am, sitting in Monforte de Lemos in the Galicia region of northwestern Spain. I opened my blog for the first time in ages, and while I already knew it, the reality hit hard: I haven’t written a real travel post in years. That stings.

Back when I first set out on “Doc,” my trusty BMW F650GS Dakar motorcycle, Facebook was in its infancy, Twitter was just catching on, YouTube was filled with pirated TV shows, and real travel writers used blogs. Platforms like Blogger (snapped up by Google), Moveable Type (which eventually faded away), and a fresh-faced WordPress were just starting to evolve.

And slowly, social media crept in. People began to post “travel stories” on Facebook. This was pre-Instagram, pre-TikTok—a world before everything became disposable content.

That’s part of what’s killed the art of blogging. Now, everything is “content”—a word I can’t stand because it reduces creative expression to a product, something to be consumed. It’s not content, at least it shouldn’t be. Writing, blogging, documenting—these are expressions of experience, observation, and emotion. It should be about sharing and creating, not chasing clicks or bragging rights.

But now, short-form content reigns. TikTok, Instagram Reels, YouTube Shorts—they’ve turned stories into quick swipes, diminishing the depth. People don’t have the patience to sit with a story anymore. Attention spans have shrunk. Ding. Swipe. Scroll. Next.

So, why am I not blogging on this journey from Lisbon to Montenegro? Because sometimes I wonder if anyone’s even reading anymore. Does anyone still care to spend more than a second before swiping past? I’m not sure.

Today, I woke up in Santiago de Compostela. It’s a special place—known as the final stop for pilgrims walking the Camino de Santiago, the route said to have been followed by the original pilgrims who brought the body of St. James (yes, headless St. James) from Jerusalem after the Romans killed him to here in Spain. Since then, for over 1,000 years, pilgrims have followed this path. It’s a sacred journey; even today, if you walk at least 60 miles, you’re officially considered a pilgrim.

I’m not a pilgrim. I’m riding a motorcycle. But this trip is different, exciting, and yet still filled with wonder. For the first time, I’m riding with my friend Robb Rill. For years I’ve tried to convince him to hop on his bike and ride with me—anywhere—somewhere. This year he finally took the bait! Instead of riding his bike, Robb rented a Ducati Multistrada in Lisbon, and we’ve been navigating through some tough weather as we explore the countryside and castles of Portugal and now Spain. We loved Santiago with its blend of history, good food, and exploration, but the weather hasn’t been kind.

Today we had hoped for clear skies to ride through the Galicia countryside, especially the Ribeira Sacra region along the Sil River. It’s stunning—a place known for its terraced vineyards and deep canyons. But rain on a motorcycle changes everything. Scenic rides turn into hours of grueling concentration, just keeping safe.

So, we shifted plans and made our way to Monforte de Lemos. Not all highways—there were some backroads—but not as scenic as planned. We’ve taken refuge at the Monforte de Lemos Parador, an incredible structure within a 9th-century fortress. The Parador, a luxury hotel network housed in historic sites, has taken this monastery—the Monastery of San Vicente do Pino—and turned it into a place where you can experience history with a little comfort. The views from the top of the hill are just as timeless as the architecture.

I could dive deeper into the history here—how the Counts of Lemos were once some of the most powerful nobles in Spain, or how this hilltop played a role in defending the region. But is anyone really reading this?

Maybe if I were younger, I’d just snap an Instagram selfie of me outside this incredible castle and be done with it.

But you know what?

I think it’s time to start writing in this blog again. There’s more to life than insta-selfies and self-fulfilling 30-second TikToks. We need to go deep. Surface is superficial. It’s shit.

Go big or go home. Go deep or wallow in mediocrity. We have the time; we just need to choose the time—wisely.

Join the Conversation:

Are you a traveler who misses the depth of storytelling? Do you have insights or experiences from your own journeys that you want to share? I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment below or shoot me an email.

And if you’re curious about more real-time updates, check out my journey on YouTube at WorldRider or follow my adventures on Instagram at WorldRider and my personal account here.

Let’s keep the spirit of exploration alive together!

Take time. You have a choice!