The fall from the bridge was this morning. The day has been a blur of failed mechanics interspersed with lost consciousness. I can't choke back any more drugs, especially as we have so few and no soon opportunity to gain more. As the daylight disappears the thick Amazon foliage takes on a sinister demeanor — much like it had last night.

It's been said that what we do defines us. Yet perhaps it's as much about what we do, as it is what we endure and what we learn from? We find out who we really are only when we're pushed past what we thought were our limits, when, during those wretched times, we discover we have greater personal reserves than we'd ever imagined. In those pivotal moments the haze of life lifts, and we can see and feel who we are, what's truly important to each of us, and what we'll fight to hold on to. Such was the case for me and for Lisa, and the trip to Brazil's Amazon Jungle, which defined a very large part of who we are today. Make no mistake -- if you're hoping for a warm and fuzzy touring article, you probably want to flip the page right now.

With the crossing by canoe of the rocky waters of the Mamoré River, we leave the tropical north of Bolivia and resume our two-wheel journey, heading north into a new and fascinating world called Brazil. A five-hour ride on intensely hot pavement takes us through lush fields to the town of Porto Velho in the Amazon Basin, but we are still a long way from seeing the real Amazon River.

The flight was long - 8 hours from Miami - and although it was a night flight, I was too excited about the upcoming tour to sleep well. Drowsy, I staggered from the plane. A morning brew of warm, humid air swamped my face. A curtain of gray clouds concealed the mountains of Rio de Janeiro.