Axel Champloy
traveling painter
Japan without flying
In November 2024 I decided to realize an old dream: going to Japan without flying! My goal is to go following the sun, west, across the Atlantic, America and the Pacific. I travel hitchhiking, sailing, train, ferry, bus .... I chose slowness, out of ecological and artistic conviction, so this journey is not consumption but contemplation.
News from my journey !
Hitchhiking across the Australian desert!
After a year and a half of sailing across the Atlantic, the Caribbean, and the Pacific, I landed in Australia. I spent about twenty days in Sydney before hitting the road across this vast country, hitchhiking: destination Darwin! I needed to find a berth there for the next leg of my journey: Indonesia!
Logbook
Avril 2026
The Australian adventure
Desert and kangaroos? That's a dream for some! Not for me, I have to keep moving. Yep! I've already been on the road for a year and a half. It's still a long way to go, I need to pick up the pace, especially since my brother arrived in Japan last month!
That was what I thought before I took a detour to Sydney where I got lost for 20 days with my friend Paul, in the pleasures of Babylon.
Come on, let's get going! I'm hitting the road again, on the agenda a 5000 km hitchhike towards Darwin to find a sailboat for Indonesia!
I stick out my thumb and fly to Melbourne, Adelaide, Port Augusta; in five days I'm at the edge of the desert. The Outback beckons; this is where the real adventure begins. Along the way, I have wonderful encounters: Aboriginal people, foreigners, Australians, miners, truckers, tourists—I get a glimpse into Australian society. I travel over 800 km with Paul, an Outback veteran, who encourages me to make a detour to Uluru, the sacred mountain. A large orange rock, sculpted by the pure blue of the sky, the colors vibrate; it's an unforgettable sight for a painter. That evening, I fall asleep in the tent, under a million twinkling stars.
I ended up in Alice Springs, where I discovered the plight of the native people, the Aboriginals, and the cultural and health catastrophe of capitalist colonialism: stolen land, alcohol, drugs, violence, and an erasure of culture. I also met resistance fighters and artists. I couldn't leave; I stayed for a week, two weeks, three weeks, held captive by my new friends and by the magic of the desert.
March 2026
Crossing the Pacific by cargo ship
The time has come to leave!
I thought I was doomed to stay in Polynesia forever, trapped by the cyclone season raging in the western Pacific. But the wind shifted faster than expected. I boarded the Marius, a container ship in the Marfret fleet, bound for Australia! I was incredibly lucky to be accepted as an artist-in-residence aboard this large cargo ship. I spent 10 days photographing a cosmopolitan crew who took me on a journey around the world: Sri Lanka, Ukraine, Indonesia, Bulgaria, Romania, Russia, Myanmar… What an incredible experience!
After a brief stopover in New Caledonia, I landed in Brisbane, Australia. I immediately hit the road again to meet up with Paul, a childhood friend who lives in Sydney. After six months of isolation in the Pacific Islands, I rediscovered Babylon in all its splendor: the streets teeming with people, the opera house, the overflowing supermarkets, the nightclubs, the exhibitions… I quickly fell in love with it again, and Paul suggested I stay a little longer. It seemed like I was going to have a hard time leaving!
The departure,
France - Spain
On November 1, 2024, I meet Ludmilla in Montpellier. We give a thumbs up and in 1 week we cross a part of France and Spain!
Morocco
On November 9, 2024, we arrive in Rabat to meet Patrik, the captain of the Casba, the catamaran on which we will sail to the Canaries.
The crossing
Morocco - Canary Islands
On the 19th of November 2024 we leave Rabat aboard the Casba, heading for the Canaries. The program is about 500 nautical miles, 6 days of sailing, and not much wind!
Lanzarote
The Canary Islands
On November 23, we arrive in Lanzarote, the desert, the easternmost island of the Canaries. We discover volcanic landscapes which looks like Mars.
Gran Canaria
The Canary Islands
On December 7th we arrive in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, the largest city in the Canary Islands. We discover an island contrasting between deserts and forests, and the city and nature.
Tenerife / Gomera
The Canary Islands
On December 13th Ludmilla leaves to volunteer on a farm. I continue sailing with Patrik to the island of Tenerife and La Gomera, where I discover splendid primary forests.
Boat-Hitchhiking
The Canary Islands
Ludmilla décide d'arrêter l'aventure ici. Je me lance à la recherche d'un voilier pour traverser l'Atlantique. Je passe 20 jours dans le port de Las Palmas avant de trouver.
The crossing
Canary Island-Capo Verde
On the first of February I boarded the Laurena IV, a 56-foot catamaran. We were heading for Cape Verde for a 6-day crossing. We were pushed by a strong wind and carried by the swell.
Capo verde
Here we are in Mindelo, the must-see stopover in Cape Verde. The architecture is colorful, it's a pleasure to paint. In the evening, it's party time in the favelas-style neighborhoods that are preparing for Carnival. What an atmosphere!
Transatlantic
We leave Mindelo on February 8th. We set off for a 2000 nm crossing towards Barbados. We let ourselves be carried by the trade winds, the wind is stable, the sea is calm, 13 days of sailing are on the agenda.
Barbados
We land on the island of Barbados, the easternmost of the Caribbean. The goal is to find a boat to continue the journey, but in the meantime I enjoy the tropics and the heavenly beaches.
Sailing
Barbados - Martinique
On March 8th, I boarded a catamaran belonging to the Caribbean Cetacean Society, heading for Martinique. We arrived safely after 15 hours of sailing.
Martinique
I had barely disembarked when I was greeted by Hugo, whom I barely knew. Here, I discovered the true meaning of hospitality. In total, I spent over two and a half months staying with locals. I took advantage of this stopover to fulfill a few paintings comissions and save up before setting sail again.
Sailing
Martinique - Aruba
In the port of Le Marin in Martinique, I met the Eastwest family. I had the job interview and was hired. Off to the ABC islands! For two weeks, I was the happy big brother to four little blond heads.
Aruba
I arrived in Aruba in early June. I started looking for a boat to Panama and met Karl, an old American sea dog. As soon as the weather permitted, we set sail! In the meantime, Tito, his Arubean friend, took us on a tour of the island to eat, drink, and dance—what an adventure!
Sailing
Aruba - Panama
We weigh anchor, heading for Panama! Six days of sailing are planned. The wind and swell are picking up, and the wheel breaks. Luckily, Karl always has a solution. At 70 years old, he handles his boat wonderfully, and despite the age difference, we get along very well.
Panama Canal
A sailboat slips past the steel giants. Immense cargo ships float on the calm waters of the bay, patiently waiting their turn to plunge into the jungle. Panama, here we come! I arrive with Karl on June 16th. We'll stay together for another two weeks. I take advantage of being near the marina to look for the sailboat that will carry me across the Pacific. Between trips to Colón, the neighboring city, where I spend hours sketching children in the streets, I meet the Alaventour family, who are looking for a crew member. I have the job interview; I'll get an answer in a few days. In the meantime, I sign on as a handliner on another sailboat to cross the canal! Wedged between the cargo ships, we snake through the jungle. The great steel gates close, millions of tons of cargo slide through the locks as lightly as a cork. And there we are, just a few meters above the sea, sailing on Gatun Lake. Further on, tall glass towers rise above the trees; it's the silhouette of the City taking shape, the river widens, the horizon opens up, we're sailing on the Pacific!
Panama City
I've found a sailboat to cross the Pacific. The Alaventour family just told me the news: we're leaving in a few days. I'm taking a walk around the city: the City is a dehumanized place, nothing but cars, shopping malls, buildings, and concrete. Life and culture have deserted the streets; globalization and uniformity have won. Yet, just a stone's throw away, kids are playing soccer. The houses are crammed together, the walls covered in graffiti, old people chat on their doorsteps, salsa music echoes through the streets. Here I breathe and find inspiration; I've found my playground. I take dozens of portraits of children; I'm happy. I learn that the Lady Blue, the catamaran I'm supposed to be on, has just been struck by lightning; all the electronics are dead. The departure is postponed. I then decided to embark on an adventure, going to paint in the jungle, in the San Blas Islands, in the mountains. I discovered sublime landscapes, and I enjoyed dry land one last time before the immense ocean.
The great departure
Pacific Ocean
Goodbye Panama! On August 10th, we set sail for the Pearl Islands. We stopped in the archipelago to wait for favorable winds before heading out to sea. One morning, the crew was awakened by the high-pitched voice of Lulu, the youngest: "Oh! Oh! Whale! Whale!" In the distance, we spotted geysers, and suddenly, a huge whale leaped into the air and crashed back down in large waves. This spectacle continued until our departure. On the 15th, the wind picked up, we weighed anchor, and hoisted the mainsail! We set a southwest course for Polynesia. On the agenda: 30 days of sailing across the Pacific. We were ready; the boat was crammed full of food. Bunches of bananas hung in the cockpit. The first few days of sailing were difficult; we were in the doldrums, or the Intertropical Convergence Zone. It's a windless region, filled with squalls that hammer the sea with lightning and blow in great gusts. The further we sail, the stronger the wind becomes; soon we're close-hauled, facing the wind and waves head-on. It's even worse; the boat is being tossed about violently. On the seventh day of sailing, the Lady Blue is struck by a large wave. The starboard shroud snaps, the mast falls. It's a real shock. We have to react quickly; the mast is hitting the hull and threatening to sink the boat. Alex, the captain, decides to cut everything and abandon the rigging to the depths. Luckily, we're 200 miles from the Galapagos, and miraculously, we have enough fuel to reach the archipelago under engine power. On the night of August 23rd, we drop anchor on Genovesa Island in the northern Galapagos; we're saved!
Galapagos
In the Galapagos, we were welcomed aboard his large cruise ship by Captain Nay. He gave us enough fuel to reach Santa Cruz, the main island, and treated us to a good meal before we left. That same evening, we crossed the equator between two islands in the archipelago; it was the first time in my life I'd ever set foot in the Southern Hemisphere. In Santa Cruz, Viko was waiting for us. He's the old sea dog who knows all the harbor's secrets. He immediately took me under his wing, took me around the bay in his dinghy, introduced me to his niece, had me clean boat hulls in the icy waters, and in the evenings dragged me to the bars. With all that, my Spanish improved quickly. I left my new family with great regret; they would be staying there for several more months while they waited for a new mast, and I joined Soa, a French sailboat that I would be staying on for a month. Every day I set off with my paints in search of subjects: giant tortoises, blue-footed boobies, pelicans, sea lions, marine iguanas... It's paradise! But the wind picks up, and it's time to leave! I meet Thomas and Anna, who agree to take me with them aboard their sailboat, Altaïr. Off to the Marquesas Islands!
Pacific crossing
I listen to one last salsa, my heart heavy, the wind pushing us out to sea. Goodbye Latin America!
Altaïr is a beautiful boat, an Ovni 45, an aluminum monohull. It's sturdy and fast. We're heading back into the Northern Hemisphere to catch an ocean current, gaining 3 knots, averaging 10 knots—it's incredible! The atmosphere on board is great; the three of us get along well. Time flies between watches, my watercolors, and video editing. After 20 days at sea: Land! Land ahoy! Towering cliffs rise above the horizon; the Marquesas Islands beckon.
