The Long Way Home
How Aaron Steinmann turned a four‑month ride into a journey across six continents
Interviewed on the 17.10.2025
By day, Aaron Steinmann worked a normal 8-5 job. Life felt normal, steady, structured, and predictable. Right up until he set off on a round‑the‑world ride.
After his mother passed away, he decided to move back to Portland, Oregon, and figured that since he would be between jobs, he might as well ride a motorcycle there instead of taking a plane. He expected the journey to last about four months. But once he reached Portland, he realized it would be far more meaningful to continue north and finish at the very top of Alaska, transforming the ride into a true accomplishment: bottom of New Zealand to the top of Alaska. When he finally arrived there, he decided he would return to New Zealand too - but this time by taking a completely different route. That’s when what he calls the Forrest Gump effect kicked in.
From a four‑month plan to a global loop, Aaron has now ridden across six continents and through 51 countries, covering around 140,000 kilometers. That is roughly three and a half times around the world.
After tracing his way up through the Americas, he shipped the bike to the UK and kept going. He dropped down into Morocco, threaded his way back through Europe and the Balkans, pushed east through the ’Stans, and rode all the way to Magadan along the legendary Road of Bones. From there, he shipped the bike to Perth, Australia, crossed the continent to Brisbane, and eventually returned to the bottom of New Zealand, closing the loop he had never really planned to draw in the first place.
When Aaron talks about the Forrest Gump effect, he’s referring to that strange momentum that builds once you start moving forward - one milestone naturally leading to the next, until the idea of stopping feels more radical than carrying on. Just as Forrest kept running “since I’d gone this far, I might as well keep on going,” Aaron found himself thinking the same way about borders, continents, and oceans. Each finish line simply revealed another horizon, another dirt road, another country to wheelie through.
Covering that kind of distance guarantees more than a few stories, and Aaron’s trip delivered plenty. There was the time he ended up in a Russian hospital needing stitches - twice. After the first set came out, the second round felt like they used thicker thread and skipped anesthetic altogether. In Australia, his bike was stolen, forcing him to confront the possibility that the journey might end right there. His bank balance kept sliding downward as the kilometers added up, a quiet pressure always humming in the background. Then there was the engine saga: pulling the motor out of his bike in the country of Georgia, breaking it down, packing it into a couple of suitcases, and flying back to the United States to have it rebuilt. He shipped it back in a cooler, only to spend weeks wrestling with customs, who at one point told him it would be impossible to release it, even though they already had the motor in hand.
When asked how he got through those moments, Aaron keeps his philosophy simple: take it one day at a time. His favorite reminder is the old adage: how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. For a trip that stretches across years, continents, and countless breakdowns - mechanical and emotional - that mindset became his compass. Instead of obsessing over the finish, he focused on the next border, the next town, the next campsite, trusting that enough small steps would add up to something immense.
Over time, the journey reshaped his outlook on what matters. He learned to appreciate and be genuinely thankful for what he already has, rather than what he doesn’t. Money, he realized, isn’t the foundation of happiness. What stayed with him were people, not purchases: the 99.9 percent of people in the world who are simply trying to live their lives and be happy. There were nights when strangers took him in, offered a bed or a patch of floor, bought him lunch without being asked, or quietly paid for a tank of fuel. Those small acts of kindness became some of his most memorable and unexpected experiences, proof that generosity is far more common than the headlines suggest. In low moments when giving up felt tempting, it was often those gestures - and the knowledge that he was living something he’d remember forever - that pushed him to keep going.
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For anyone wondering whether they should dare something similar, Aaron’s message is clear: life is short, and if he can do it, anyone can. He insists that adventures like his are more attainable than most people think; the biggest requirement isn’t skill or money, but the willingness to start. And if you feel stuck in life, his advice is as honest as it is disarming: take the first step—most people say it’s the hardest, but he believes it’s actually the second hardest part of a journey like this. The hardest part is stopping.
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Connect with Aaron here.
© 2025 Grit & Dust (The Long Way Home). Photos © 2025 Aaron Steinmann. All rights reserved. No part of this article or images may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior written permission.