Argentina-Alaska

2007-10-14T17:02:00.000Z

Home.....!

The rest of the ferry ride back to the UK was fairy uneventful other than speaking to a guy who used to supply meat to McDonalds et al, he was assuring me that the greasy fast food giant actually had the highest standards of meat anywhere and that it really was the best burger in the world. I prefer Burger King myself.

Coming down the ramp and hitting UK soil again, I spied Mark waiting patiently on the other side of the port fence with his Africa Twin and after a brief visit to passport control, we met up again for the first time since we all met in Equador, many months ago. I had figured that Mark would be the best person to meet up with first because I could get my bike slightly more 'road legal' and get all that beurocracy that I hadn't dealt with for so long sorted, ie insurance, tax and MOT. I was slightly nervous about HB's MOT inspection but I needn't have worried. Mark had been good enough to book HB into the local garage and the following morning, I was the proud owner of a shiny new MOT certificate. Straight through first time and not one issue after 37,000 miles! The inspector did have 9930 miles on the certificate until I pointed out that it was actually 99,300 miles.

HB passed 1st time!!!!

While Mark was at work, I got to work on HB and soon had all the oils changed, the air filter cleaned and even a wash in preparation for the ride home the next day. Their house really was nice though as it was built around 1520, however the door lintols aren't exactly suited for big lumbering oafs like me- mind your head! It was really nice to catch up with Mark again, though unfortunatelly Daisy was away on her new course that she's taken up since getting back a few months ago. It was great just to talk about the last few months with someone who knew exactly what I'd been through, and of course to get a decent pint of beer!

Mark and proper beer!

Thor, the biggest dog in the world next
to the lowest door lintol in the world- ouch!

Next morning, I'm off up the road to Edinburgh, stopping briefly at lunchtime for something I haven't had in a long time- a real fish supper out of newspaper! I make decent time and soon all the familiar names on road signs start wizzing past and before you know it, I'm back. I'm greeted by my sister, where I'll be staying for the next few months as my flat is still let out and its great to see her again. Mum is still on holiday and we catch up the following day. It really does feel weird to be back again and from what I've read from others who've done similar trips, it will take me a long time to adjust.

Arriving in Edinburgh

Trying on my old trousers-
I think someone's lost some weight!

2007-09-29T16:28:00.001Z

The Long Road Home

It would have been easy to hang around a while as I was really enjoying this place but, alas I really had to move on and catch the ferry back to mainland Italy for the long ride to Holland. It was hard to believe that the next ferry I would be on would take me and HB from Hook of Holland to Harwich and to the end of my journey.

The next few days were really a bit of a blur, stopping briefely at Levanto, Italy then over the beautiful Alps to Chur in Switzerland (where bizzarely, sightings of the baseball capped 'Ned' or 'Chav' made a sudden and unwelcome reappearance for the first time). I then sped on up through Germany, originally planning to stay with a friend in Mannheim but due to prior arrangements and bad timing, I just kept on going till I hit the Rheine.

More dodgy parking

The Alps- good roads!

I found quite possibly the bussiest caravan campsite I'd ever seen, not realising that there was a wine festival going on. At night, the Rheine was taken over by about 30 pleasure boats going up the river as part of the festival. While getting packed up the following morning, I got talking to the Brits next to me who were Scots living in Kent and ended up being given a huge cooked breakfast!

The Rheine

A healthy Scots fry up!

From there, I stopped briefely in Koln to see the Dom and then cracked on to Holland. I rode into in Nimwegan but still having a few hours of daylight left and nothing really catching my eye as far as campsites go, I plodded on until the bizzarely named s-Hertogenbosch. There I tried a few hotels but they were all too expensive and a bit noisy. I was told there might be a campsite at Vught,, to the south but there wasn't. I did eventually get directions to a campsite a few miles away, and on arrival, I found there was no one at the reception desk so I made my way between the vehicle barriers and started looking for a pitch. This was no ordinary campsite though as it was populated entirely by static caravans and it took me a heck of a time finding a spot to pitch. I found a group of drunken Russians outside one caravan, who pointed me to a small patch of grass nearby. One of them asked me, in all seriousness if I was indeed Hunting Terrorists thanks to an Alaska sticker on my pannier. It didn't look great but it would do.

Koln

It was funny, tonight was the last night of my journey as tomorrow, I would be back in the UK and I dunno, but I was expecting something maybe a bit nicer to mark the end of what has been to me anyways, quite a big thing. But it was not to be, I sat alone on a bench in the dark outside the site's snack bar eating sausage and chips out a bag and had a couple of cans of Heinikan to mark my last night in Europe and of the last 10 1/2 months through the Americas. I thought of Michelle, the beautiful places I had seen and the truly wonderful people we'd met on the road.

I awoke later at night in my tent to noises that wouldn't have been out of place in the Blair Witch movie. Every few seconds, I kept hearing loud bangs and snaps coming from all around and it took a while to realise that it was actually acorns falling from the trees on to the roofs of the caravans below. I wasn't too happy with this place as I'd been back to the reception, tried the door of their house and all to no avail. There were toilet and shower blocks nearby but they were locked and I could only get a key from reception. I thankfully found an unlocked toilet door near the site entrance otherwise the Russians might have had something to say.

When I had packed up the bike the next morning, I was determined not to pay and having noticed that the outward automatic vehicle barrier opened spontaniously the previous night as I was manoevering my way in, I quickly rode past the guy who was actually now in the reception window and straight to the barrier which thankfully opened immediately.

The town called Hook of Holland has to be one of the most depressing looking places I'd see, not lest beacuse of the incessant rain and the fact that it really looked just like Britain. Once I had my ferry ticket, I had a few hours to kill in this hell hole which I did by drinking lots of coffee and looking for an internet cafe in the rain but failed on the latter. The old dears in the tourist office eventually cracked and I was allowed to use their pc though I wondered who actually wanted tourist information other than the route out of town. I was then able to make contact with my friend Mark, who would meet me off the ferry in Harwich that night.

The ferry, though much like any other, pretty much signified the end of the journey for me. Once on board, I quickly found the bar to start drowning my sorrows. Thanfully there was a movie theatre (not free I might add) so the latest Bourne saga filled a couple of hours out of the 8 hour sailing.

After 37,000 amazing miles, the end of the road!!!!!

2007-09-24T19:53:00.000Z

Italia- Parte Due

D'Elba sunset

I figured there really had to be much more to Italy than tailing grindingly slow industrial freight in the rain so I got the hell out of Riccione. My plan, such that it was, was to cut across the mainland, go and see Assisi, mainly out of half-remembered art history lessons from school, then head towards this little island called Isola D'Elba that so far, a couple of people had mentioned. Frankly, I knew nothing about it other than it was a wee island that was supposed to be quite pretty and, God forbid, there might even be some sunshine. So once clear of the area around Riccione which was irritatingly inhabited by thousands of wanna-be racers on sports bikes, the road crept up into the hills to finally reveal some pretty darn nice views, something I had previously yet to experience in Italy, so I knew I was onto something. The sun finally made a late appearance and I ended up really enjoying the ride to Assisi. I had vague memories of old art history lessons about Renaissance paintings and some chap called Francis, but to be honest, it was just a bit to busy with tourists for my liking. Whilest there, I also had the misfortune of buying the dryest and blandest pannini ever created.

I had decided to see how far I got before sundown as I was in the mood for the sea side now that it was all nice and sunny. I made it as far as the port town of Piombino by 5.30pm and headed straight for the ferry office, and as it turned out, there was a boat leaving in half an hour so I just got myself a ticket and got in line with the other Saga-louts queuing up. The company that runs the ferrys to the Islands, Moby, have these very colourful boats almost like huge floating cartoons.

After an hour, we pull up alongside Portoferraio, the main town on D'Elba and I head over to Laconella on the south side of the island where I've been told there are campsites aplenty. I'm shocked when the first one I find is asking 25Euro for a pitch so move on to the next one which is 16Euro, still expensive but its nearly sunset and I don't really have the time to feck about. It seems nice though, quite rustic, very near the beaches and I even get to see a proper shooting star leaving a cool silvery trail while sitting on the beach later that night so its all good.

My beach for a few days

The next night, after going to the beach and then spending most of the day buggering about trying to find some email on the island, I'd just finished my dinner when Esther, a German woman starts talking to me about the bike. It turns out she's done a few bike trips herself to Scotland and Ireland. The next couple of days are really nice, just going to the beach in the mornings and swimming and trying to get a tan back so it looks like I've actually been somewhere, then in the afternoons, Esther drove us around the island checking out wee villages. Napoleon lived here for a bit, ooh quite some time ago, so we went to see his house but opted out of paying to see the inside. There was a really gorgeous village called Poggio that was almost impossible to take a bad picture though I did try.

Napoleon woz ere!

Esther at the wee mans house

A village called Poggio

While at the campsite, I also met a really friendly couple, also from Germany, Stephan and Karen, who kind enough to offer their hospitality if I was passing their way while going home. I couldn't help thing that it was slightly ironic that in Germany, I was hanging out with Enrico, an Italian, while in Italy, I met loads of Germans. I can only figure that Italy and Germany must do some kind of mass country swap during the summer months or something.

Stephan
& Transalp

Stephans wife, Karen and me leaving D'Elba

2007-09-03T15:37:00.003Z

Italia- Parte Una

Just makes you think of Italy, eh?

I walk around the town for a couple of hours but there's nothing to keep me interested so leave town. At the last minute, I decide to ride to Italy instead of Croatia. I'm now thinking I'll just see some bits of Italy I haven't seen before and miss out Croatia unfortunately as I'm rapidly running out of time and money, let alone patience. I also feel I'm getting quite jaded with it all again. I need to get some sort of plan together as to where I'm going. After Longarone, the scenery is really nice. The mountains just rise up all around me though the traffic is heavy and at times very going. I want to make it to somewhere on Lake Garda but as I don't have a guidebook for Italy, I have nowhere in mind yet and don't know about any campsites. I nearly loose it a few times on some of the sharp, hairpin bends that catch me out suddenly. I find my quite worn TKC80 tires really aren't the best on tarmac when its been raining. It's getting near dark and I'm still quite a few miles from Lake Garda and get a bit concerned as to where I'm going to be sleeping as I really can't afford a hotel room here. I'm also running out of petrol and try a few garages which all have some type of pre-pay system I haven't seen before that my tired brain can't cope with so give up and hope I make it somewhere. Right on sundown, I get to the top of the hill looking down on to Lake Garda and even though I still don't know where I'm going to stay, I stop to take a picture. I can't quite believe it when I notice a sign for a campsite on the way into town. When I find it, its pretty dark but ok to get the tent up. The site is very busy and costs 18euro a night. Expensive but I think I'll stay a couple of nights as I just feel so tired now. I get talking to a German couple on XT600s and have a beer with them by the lake. They're here for a couple of weeks and are spending it checking out the dirt roads around the lake on their bikes.

I'm in Italy so that can mean only one thing-

Bloody pasta for dinner again!

The following morning, it seems like it's going to rain all day. I opt for lying in my tent listening to the thunder and lightening while reading as there's not much else I can do and realise that I hardly ever do this so enjoy it while I can. Around 2 or 3pm the rain finally gives out and I get out from my sleeping bag and take as stroll around town. Windsurfing, it would appear is the main watersport round here as there are dozens of schools by the waterfront. The campsite manager tells me some places I should see while in Italy so my plan the following day was to head down the east side of the lake. Thats my first mistake. The traffic on that road is solid and barely gets above 30mph all the way. I have to go via Verona, a normally lovely city but not the parts I see today which are basically the ring roads. The ride through the country is not made any more pleasant by the fact that it was chucking it down with rain.

I pull over at one of the many roadside cafe/restaurants and although I'm frankly horrified at the prices, I end up sharing a table with an Italian trucker who's level of english perfectly matches my italian so its a fairly quiet lunch. I really had no idea of the amount of freight traffic that uses this road otherwise I would have opted for somewhere else to ride to. After getting well and truly fecked off with it, I decide that the 'nice bit' I was told about must be right by the coast and come off the main road. 'Nope, it certainly isn't here', I think to myself as I start skirting the edge of a trul ugly and equally massive industrial plant. At one point, the road has become totally flooded thanks to the ceasless rain and it looks like its around a foot deep in the middle. I decide I'll wait till the car in front of me has more or less cleared the huge puddle before I start to ride through it but as I'm waiting, the impatient knob-end in the car behind me overtakes me.

I've spent a very long and tedious day riding though heavy rain and even heavier traffic but eventually make it to Rimini. I had no particular plans to stay here so I thought I'd check it out first and decide if I would. After roughly two minutes, I decided I wasn't staying here but had seen a sign for the BMW place somewhere so figured I'd best grab a couple of spares like an oil filter and some crush washers while I had the chance. Again, this was easier said than done and after litteraly going round the houses and getting stuck on yet another ring road utterly solid with traffic, I found it. The man behind the counter was wearing quite fancy designer glasses with very clean overalls and wasn't particularly excited to see a dirty and soggy overlander or how little I spent in his establishment.

For reasons still unknown to me, I ventured on to Riccione, a little further down the coast thinking it might be a nice place to camp despite the truly shitty weather. The rain had miraculously cleared up by the time I got there and found a truly dull looking campsite. There were some loud swiss beer-boys across the grass and a few german bikers who as it turned out, were here for the Moto GP happening up the road. I'd fancied a fw days on a beach but this place was a total turn off. What little sand there was between the 50-odd million or so deckchairs that covered the beach as far as the eye could see really wasn't what I had in mind for myself. Unfortunately I had to stick it out for a couple of nights as I really needed to do some clothes washing before I encountered a fairly severe underpant crisis which really wouldn't be good for anybody.

2007-09-03T15:37:00.001Z

Slovenia

Once the tallest building in Europe

The ride to Ljubljana is horrible. The map shows motorway where there isn't any and is chock full of lorries and heavy traffic. It also starts raining really heavily pretty much all the way, lightening too. At one point, the stationary traffic line goes on for miles but I ride up the outside, very dangerous in this rain as all it will take is some dozy bugger to decide to do a U-turn in front of me. I'm also worried about aquaplaning too. After a few hours of this hell, the motorway eventually starts and I can get some speed up, riding at 90mph a lot of the way but get clobbered for about 5 Euros over 3 different 'Peaje' toll booths. They really piss me off, why do bikes need to pay? I am as slow as possible but that's easy as my gloves are soaking wet and my fingers are totally hydrated so cars start honking behind me impatiently.

While I'm riding, my dreams of getting my own room with fresh linen and a hot bath are reduced to just getting a hostel not on the 4^th floor. I make it to Dom Tabor hostel after dark but don't feel like going out so its noodles again. The hostel is 16 Euros for a shared dorm room but at least with breakfast included. Chatting with the Japanese guy in room, it turns out he's doing a 6 month RTW trip with what looks like a little day sack! He's quite cool though but I find he's difficult to chat to in the morning as he says his English speaking skills don't kick in till noon. We hear some commotion from outside the dorm window and watch some stupid students from England jump out their window on the floor below me on to the roof of the next building. One of them lands hard on the metal deck and it looks bloody painful in those flat-soled Converse shoes of his. I next see them again downstairs getting interviewed by the police and try not to piss myself laughing.

2007-09-03T15:36:00.001Z

Hungary

Once I cross in to Hungary. The scenery is a lot better and they even have castles on hills and the buildings generally don't make you want to look away. I make it to a huge campsite by Lake Balatan. Lots of families with kids here it appears. Dinner is noodles and a banana. Mmm. Feel really tired so after a bit of a walk around, its a fairly early night. First thing the next morning, I go to the reception to pay for the site as it was shut when I arrived. It turns out it is 14 Euros! I nearly choke. After breakfast and despite the expense, I think I fancy sticking around here today as I still feel tired from constantly moving every day. I try to find some internet to email Michelle and the place looks open so I go in and sit down at a machine that is on. They tell me they're not open until 10am and I have to leave even though it's 09.50! Slightly pissed off, I go for another walk only to find when I get back, their machines are all now occupied by little kids! Ok, I can deal with it. I figure I'll just go for a swim in the nice open air camp ground pool instead. However, almost as soon as I get to the pool, it starts pissing it down. This is unbelievable! I can see that its just a shower though so decide to get changed and get in anyway. I'm the only one in the pool but by the time I've done ½ a length, the pool attendant suddenly appears.

PA- something in Hungarian

Me- Sorry?

PA- You need a cap to swim, please leave the pool.

Me- Er ok, where do I get one?

PA- I don't know, the reception maybe.

Me- But that's miles away. Don't you keep them here if you need them for the pool?

PA- Just get out of the pool! (shouting)

I start to laugh as the day just can't get any worse. I decide to leave this shit-hole right now. While packing up my tent, I listen to a very severe sounding German mother shouting at her crying kids and I can't help thinking I'd probably be crying too if someone shouted at me in German.

2007-09-03T15:34:00.001Z

Slovakia

Feeling quite like shit after another good night out in Krakow, I eventually get myself ready to leave by about 1pm with Nick giving me a hand to get all my gubbins down the stairs. Krakow really is a great place and I hope I can get back there sometime. I think it even outstrips Edinburgh as having more pubs per head. Thanks again Nick! I take a detour via the skiing town, Zacapane for the smallest KFC meal I've ever had. The scenery at the mountains is pretty stunning though. I only make it to Zilina by night fall, a town that my guide book describes as not having anything much going for it and it's right. It takes me about an hour to find accommodation in the darkness and I get myself a room in a Commie style student block, complete with dodgy, shaky lift with flickering lights. Later on, after pointing out what I want from the pictures of the food on offer on the wall above the canteen downstairs, its not exactly what I get. Damn, this is a hard language! At least I get a room to myself for basically peanuts though.

I find Slovakia actually quite ugly, not the countryside which is very pleasant but the architecture is just horrendous. Can you imaging getting planning permission to build tower blocks in the countryside? A lot of the towns I pass through seem to be setting me up for a visit to a typical Scottish council estate. I find I have a few Slovakian pennies left and it totals around 700?s so before I enter Hungary, I stop at a McDonalds and go in to see what I can afford. I look at the confusing menu and see something which naturally looks shit but is affordable. The lady tells me that its actually a Happy Meal! Feigning indifference, I head to Spar and their deli counter instead.

2007-09-03T15:33:00.000Z

Poland

The following morning, wayhey! Its proper raining again! After another walk around town, this time in daylight, I get myself a cheap lunch consisting of some sort of fried cheese thing in a stale baguette but I'm not hanging around. I'm off to Poland today, Krakow in fact. I'm staying with Nick, a friend of a friend and thankfully he's sent me some directions on how to get to his place. I think I like Poland as soon as I cross the border as when I'm riding alongside a railroad track, the driver gives his horn a big honk and as I turn round to look, he gives me a 'go on my son' kind of nod so it's already more sociable than the Czech Republic. Riding into Krakow, I find it's a really attractive place. Not only does it have beautiful looking old buildings and cobbled streets but its got cool old trams running down the middle of the roads. The high stone built tenement buildings also remind me of Edinburgh a bit. Nick turns out to be a really nice guy and he has a fantastic flat where I get my own room. Over the next few days, Nick shows me around town and we go out for quite a few beers, God I'm out of practice!

I enjoyed having a few days just kicking around not really doing much in Krakow which was just what I needed. I did however take a ride out to Auschwitz which should have been quite straight forward but I ended up on back country lanes, dirt roads and dead ends, all within sight of the actual road I was trying to take. Unfortunatelly no rice paddy fields this time but I think as a detour, Michelle would have loved it! No matter, I got there eventually and this time joined one of the tours. I didn't know too much about this place apart from the obvious but there are really separate two sites. Auschwitz 1 is the start of the tour and was actually a former Polish army barracks that the Nazis helped themselves to and isn't really that big a site. 3Kms away is Auschwitz 2 (Birkenau), the place we all recognise from the pictures of the railroad heading under the brick archway. This place really is huge but there are actually less buildings to see here. Our guide thankfully doesn't suffer fools gladly and will just pause and give one hell of an icy stare to anyone caught making a noise during her talks. The exhibits are quite incredible, most notably the huge piles of human hair (about 2 tonnes worth), thousands of suitcases and even massive piles of children's shoes. It was during that exhibit that the irritatingly loud English couple (who's mobile phones kept going off during the guides speeches) and their free spirited sprog stopped and looked at the pile of children's shoes.

Mum to daughter- 'Ooh look darling, those shoe's are just your size'

(Fucking hell- this was just after the guide had explained that any children on the trains coming into Auschwitz were pretty much taken straight to the gas chambers as they were of no use to the Nazis)

2007-09-03T15:32:00.000Z

Czech Republic

As I'm riding towards the Czech Republic, I'm pleased to see petrol prices have dropped overnight from 1.35E/L to 1.12E/L, only to realise that I'm now in Austria. Once actually inside CR, I'm pleased to note that the road is again lined with prostitutes and stalls selling garden gnomes, just like it was when me and James came here on the bike all those years ago. I arrive in Czesky Krumlov and immediately get into trouble from the law for riding through the main square of the town, the centre of which is all pedestrianised. Using my tricks learnt in South America, I immediately ask him where the campsite is thus changing the subject and he points me in the right direction. The campsite is cheap at 120K and very busy. I notice one or two other bikers there but once my camp is set up and I've eaten my dinner, no one has spoken to me yet which I find difficult to get used to after all the places I've been where total strangers come up to you and say hello all the time. More annoyingly, I've pitched my tent next to a bunch of 12year olds who are hell bent on getting drunk, which isn't hard. None of them can sing in tune either. Earplugs time again.

After packing up my tent the next morning, I take a walk round town, which is pleasant but very touristy and there's really not much that makes me want to hang around. I get an email from Michelle and she's back in Oz now. That feels very weird indeed, to think that we've travelled so far and done so much together and are now temporarily on opposite side of the world. Not feeling totally overjoyed, I ride off to Ollamoets, finding the driving standards here totally appalling. I'm sticking to backroads but I get overtaken by only inches by some arsehole while I'm also overtaking a truck. Relived I've made it on once piece, I find I've picked probably the only hostel on a 4^th floor. After getting up there to look at the place, I'm knackered. I then find I have to bring the bike in through the front door and stick it round the back for security, which is fine but its no easy number getting HB through that door frame but somehow we do it. I end up going for some food and a couple of beers with a few students. One is English and the other two guys are German who don't say much. I think students are brilliant, the conversation goes a little like this:

Me- So what are you studying?

Student- Business studies and French. Its the best course for what I want to do

Me- Ah, so what to you want to do when you finish?

Student- Erm, I don't really know yet

2007-08-25T16:53:00.000Z

Am I dreaming?

It's like a bad dream.

I'm on my own today and for some reason am in a bus driving on the left side of the road. There seems to be red double decker buses everywhere and that tower over there looks remarkably like Big Ben. I'm also really, really tired but I could even swear that the river on my left is the Thames. I try to wake myself up and think of sunny Vancouver but its just not happening.

Hang on a second:

mmm, London

AARGH, F....K!! I'M IN LONDON!!! What the hell happened?

Gradually it starts coming back to me. I remember the long, emotional goodbye with Michelle in Vancouver airport the previous afternoon and a couple of days before that, taking my bike to the shipping agent in Richmond. Wait a minute, that's it- we're at the end of our Argentina to Alaska adventure and Michelle is flying home to Australia while I'm taking the 'Long Way Home' (...sorry) to Scotland by taking in some of Eastern Europe first. I'm en route to Munich via London to pick up my bike because the direct flight to Munich decided to be fully booked up when I called Air Transat. The flight from Vancouver to London is depressingly full up and they want $80 for extra legroom so I decide to forego it. I'm squeezed in against the window by a large guy and his wife who are pleasant enough to talk to but I know that I won't be getting any sleep tonight. I remind myself that the last time I was on a plane other than the little Cessna over the Nasca Lines, was arriving in Buenos Aires 9 ½ months ago. I'm relieved to find the 9 hour flight passes quickly enough though with some movies, telly and watching the planes progress on the electronic map. The cameras on the nose and under the plane are nice addition too.

I have an incredibly miserable train ride from Gatwick into London, looking around at the normality that I easily recognise but don't want to be a part of again just yet. Next to me there's a very loud, posh woman bleating away about the new bathroom cabinets that the inept joiner has recently fitted to her clearly very bored husband. Once I'm at Victoria Station, it's straight onto a direct bus to Stanstead Airport. I'm pleased it's all going smoothly so far as I couldn't handle any fuck-ups or delays right now. True to form though, the EasyJet check-in queue is the same as they always are, with the useless, miserable sods behind the counters doing their utmost to ensure the checking in process goes as slowly as possible.

With Michelle's words still ringing in my ear that I'd better not get chatting to any attractive women on the plane, Chrisa, a young Greek girl sits down next to me on the London-Munich flight who seems really nice. She's on her own and after chatting for a bit, invites me to meet up with her and her Italian friend, Enrico who lives in Munich so we agree to meet up following day. I'm pleased I've met some people to hang out with so soon. We land in Munich Airport at 3.30pm and I decide to get straight onto getting the bike cleared in Customs and out of the warehouse. The Swiss Cargo office is only one stop away on the airport train and thankfully it turns out to be a doddle. By 5.30pm, the paperwork is done, I've reconnected the battery and fitted the screen and mirrors again and I'm limping up the road to find some fuel as I'd practically run it dry before taking it to the shipping agent in Vancouver. Luckily a garage is nearby and the 22 litre tank takes 22.3 litres. I nearly choke at paying 30Euros to fill it up though.

I ride straight into Munich but find I'm starting to fall asleep so have to try hard to concentrate as cars whizz by all around me at what feels like 100mph. I find the hostel I'd booked and get checked in to a 6 bed dorm. I take a walk to find something to eat but the nice looking place up the road seems a bit expensive for me so opt for the ususal Subway sandwich and an early night. By the time my head hits the pillow, I've been awake for about 30 hours.

Although it would have been nice to hang out with Chrisa and Enrico for another day in Munich, I feel I have to get moving and decide to try and see Dachau the following day then head south to Berchtesgaden where Hitler had his holiday house. I first came to Dachau back in I think 1997 with my friend James when we did a bit of a Euro road trip on my old Suzuki GS1000G. We covered a fair few miles on that trip but I remember it seemed to rain almost every day in Germany so I'm hoping this trip is slightly less soggy. I pull up in the car park and it all seems very familiar, though this time the old parking attendant insists I leave my bike where he can keep an eye on it. The last time I was here, we didn't get a chance to see the museum so I headed for there first. As expected, it all makes for very educational but grim reading. The main sights can be seen fairly quickly if you know where you're going and these include the recreated accommodation blocks and the crematoria though I opt to avoid the huge memorials at the end of the site.

After a couple of hours, I'm back on the road to Berchtesgaden, which is all fairly tedious Euro motorway until I hit the more mountainous areas but typically, the weather is looking fairly crap it has to be said. I am aiming for the campsite but pretty much as soon as I arrive in the Bavarian town, the heavens decide to really tip it down on me so camping is now not on the menu. The hostel I find at first looks like it will cost 16Euro but due to being an old bugger without a membership card, it will actually cost me 26Euro for a shared dorm. I take a quick dash in the now incredibly heavy rain over to a nearby hotel which is full of Bavarian charm/clichés including a proper Heidi manning the desk who informs me I must only use one bed. Its 33Euro but I get my own room. Oh well, there goes the budget again. After a not too bad dinner in the hotel, I'm out like a light by 8pm.

It still doesn't look good the following morning. You can't see the mountains from the window due to the solid cloud and lo and behold, its still raining. It's one of those days best off not being on a bike and Heidi informs me that its cheaper to stay a second night. Tempting but not at your prices, love. Luckily, breakfast is included and I eat enough to nearly make me sick. After grimly getting on the bike and riding out their garage into the pissing rain, I first head up the mountain to the Nazi museum at Dokumentation in Obersalzberg. I didn't know that the Nazis used this place as their second seat of power and by all accounts was a pretty busy place in its day and all the big-wigs had houses here though it basically got obliterated by the Allies. I end up going for one of those electronic English translator doo-dahs and I'm glad I did because all the exhibits were in German. Its actually pretty fascinating though some of the photos on display are pretty graphic. I particularly liked the bit about Hitler being portrayed by the Nazi PR as being this rustic, hard working, selfless man of the people but in actual fact he would normally sleep in till noon, eat a big lunch and then go off on one of his monologues for an hour or two, then it was movie time and after dinner it was on to another monologue that although Hitler himself frequently fell asleep during them, no one ever dared leave.

By the time I was done here, I'd hoped the rain would have disappeared but fat chance of that so I caught the bus up to the Eagles Nest, Hitler's 50th birthday prezzy from the guys. I thought it must be pretty good seeing I'd paid 14.50Euro to get there. You get dropped off up the mountain and walk to a rather nifty brass lined lift, which shoots you up 120m to the Eagles Nest. Apparently, on a clear day you can get the most spectacular views however all I could see was a total white-out. I quickly looked around the building finding only a busy restaurant and then discovered that's actually all it is. Bugger! As there's literally nothing to see, I just headed straight down again.

2007-08-25T15:41:00.000Z

Canada- for the last time

Instead of the 2 days I assumed it would take us to ride from Prince Rupert to Vancouver, it took 3 days. En route, we stopped off in Fraser Lake and Lilloet where we stayed for free at the campsite as no one came to chase us for money. I even manged to severely block their loo so it was a good job we left. We took a really nice dirt road over some hills between Clinton and Pavillion. The locals told us to avoid it as it was dirt and had lots of switchbacks- decision made really. The scenery there was quite beautiful and reminded me briefly of riding in South America again.

I'd emailed Colin and Gill (we met them in Valpariso around Xmas) and we were on our waycaught the ferry over to Vancouver Island where they live. They were away for few days, and again we just needed to pick up the keys from their neigbour. Colin had said in his emails to just make ourselves at home and to make use of the bath, washing machine and had even left us beer in the fridge. We'd only met them once in Chile for really only a few hours but it was like meeting old friends when they came home a couple of days later after picking up Gills daughter from the airport and it was really nice to catch up again. Colin is a bit of a master at home brew wine making and we got pleanty of opportunities to sample his produce. On our last night in Victoria, I made everyone barbequed meat/veg on skewers with potato salad as a small way of saying thanks for our hosts wonderful hospitality.

We didn't get to see as much of Vancouver Island as we'd have liked though Victoria itself was very pleasant and I can see why ex-pats Colin and Gill chose to live there. It has a nice climate, you have all the outdoor activities you could want too. We spent most of our time there sorting out shipping and flights as unfortunatelly after nearly 10 months on the road, we're pretty much at the end of our trip. I managed to get my bike booked in with Motorcycle Express, and am to take it over to Vancouver Airport in a few days time. Michelle is off to Australia shortly after 8 years in London and I'm heading back to Europe for a few weeks on my own then its back to Scotland for me. I actually need to sort out visas and stuff there as I'm looking at also getting to Australia but I expect that will take several months to sort out. Although it will be weird being back and staying in one place, it will be fantastic to see my family and friends again though I'm not looking forward to paying UK prices again.

We next headed to Vancouver as we were staying at a friend of a friends place to the east of the city. Danny and Mia live in a very funky retro house with a huge assortment of animals. We stayed for a couple of nights while I got my bike over to the packing warehouse where Herr Bertie was strapped to a metal pallet and wrapped in plastic. The next time I'd be seeing him would be in Munich airport in a few days time. Michelle and I decided to get a hotel room for our last couple of nights together and spent a couple of days sightseeing in Vancouver and even managed to do the 'Grouse Grind' though our time of 1hr 40mins wasn't nearly as impressive as the people who do it in under 30 minutes. On our last night, we watched the sunset from Grouse Mountain and thankfully caught the cable car down rather than walking.

It was very emotional at the airport the following morning as Michelle saw me off. She was flying to Australia a couple of days later and would be heading to her folks place for a bit. After everything we've seen and been through together, it felt really hard to be saying goodbye to Michelle however we will be seeing each other again in a few months.

Next stop for me, Europe!

2007-08-25T14:07:00.000Z

South from Alaska

Well it seems like ages since I've done an 'update' so will try and be brief. After getting down to Fairbanks, I decided it would be a good time to change my now totally bald tires. And with a brief stop in Anchorage (where we got refused getting into a bar cos we didn't bring our passports!) we went to Tok which is at a bit of a crossroads so everyone goes there. And sure enough we bump into Bob and Angie again, having not seen them since Nicaragua so it was good to catch up. We were staying at the Sourdough Campsite, which in reality is more of an RV park. At least it had Wi-Fi but owner Ken's nightly 'Comedy' show was a bit too much to bear though the pensioners in their RV's seem to enjoy it.

We tried to book the inland passage ferry south but couldn't get anything for 5 days so decided to go to Valdez, which is where we had to pay for the most expensive hotel room on the trip ($90!). After a brief look around, including a bit of a ride up a dirt road, it was back to Tok where instead of enduring the painful Sourdough Campsite evening 'comedy show' again, we camped at a biker friendly campsite nearby for half the price. The owners, Brian and Vanessa have a 1968 Shovelhead Harley called Hazel and the campsite includes use of their sauna. They call each other from across the site by yelling 'Yo Mama!' or 'Yo Papa!'. Really nice couple and a very chilled out place to camp.

Dawson City on the 'Top of the World Highway' was next on the list, though its not really on the top of the world is it? It's one of those gold-rush town preserved for tourists and we find a campsite on the other side of the river, for which theres a regular and more importantly, free ferry to to other side. We take in Dimond Tooth Gerties show which is set in a old style casino. It consists of a few dancing girls and the singing Gertie who likes to get unsuspecting old men up onto the stage to remove garters from the dancing girls with their teeth. All good, clean family fun. On the way back to the campsite, we bumped in to another overlander from Switzerland called Werner on a well stickered Africa Twin who's also come up here from Argentina. I was pleased to hear that he didn't enjoy the Galapagos Islands as much as he had enjoyed the wildlife on the Valdez Peninsula in Argentina as we couldn't justify the huge cost of getting to the Galapagos.

We then aimed for Skagway to catch the ferry down to Juneau. The town itself is again one of those touristy places geared up for receiving regular cruise ships so you'd be forgiven for thinking that all the shops here only sell jewelry because they pracically do. With relief we got out of there and spent a few hours on a mini cruise of our own down to Juneau, Alaska's capital which a little bizzarely, is not on the mainland. We would only be in Juneau for a night so checked out a nearby glacier, which was receeding and although nice, not a patch on Perito Moreno. We just had time to go to the Alaska Brewery for a quick tour and to sample some of their wares. I reckon the IPA was the best as the rest all seem a little watery to my tastes, but hey, I wasn't complaining, it was free beer after all.

Early the following morning, it was back to the ferry port to catch the ferry for the 2 day trip down to Prince Rupert in Canada. Amazingly, the crew on the boats don't stock tie down straps for motorbikes so instead you get given a ball of string and are told to get on with it. Once the bikes had been thoroughly secured with the equivalent of garden twine, we got ourselves up to the deck. We had been planning to sleep on deck as the cabins were a tad pricy and had been talking to a couple of bikers from the US when one of them said he was just popping down to their cabin. A couple of minutes later, he returned with a key, and said 'there you go'. They'd only just gone and paid for a cabin for us for 2 nights! Yet another example of the incredible generosity of total strangers we have met on our trip. The guys were both ex-racers from the 70's and apparently had a great collection of around 30 bikes at home. So with our new cabin, we were able to stick our gear in the room and enjoy the next 2 days. The ferry goes down whats called the Inland Passage so you have islands on both side of the ship while it calls in at various ports. We stopped off at Sitka (they called out 'Sitka by the sea' on the PA) where we jumped ship for a few hours with a few people we'd met and went straight to some fairly lively pubs before having to get the bus back to port. The following day we only had 45 minutes in Petersburg or Little Norway as its known due to the colourful houses, which we put to good use by having the best cinamon buns we'd ever tasted from the bakery there. We manged to see a few whales etc from the ship but unfortunatelly nothing on a par with Valdez in Argentina. We did manage to see a couple of quite spectacular sunsets though in addition to some amazing scenery.

2007-07-24T01:48:00.000Z

Alaska- The Last Frontier

Nice doggy

Again, its another easy-peasy border crossing into Alaska and am quietly relieved as I'd hoped the warrant for my arrest from my unpaid Arizona stop sign ticket hadn't been processed yet. We'd met Ramey in Canada and he'd offered us a spot to pitch our tent at his house in Fairbanks. To be honest, We'd have quite liked a hotel room as we were pretty shattered but after phoning a few hotels, they were all well out with our budget so the tent it was.

Alaskan border

Ramey's place was a few miles outside of town but luckily he'd drawn me a pretty good map so it didn't take too long to find the place. No one was home but we knew it was the right place. Ramey is a friend of Karl Bushby (http://goliath.mail2web.com), the British guy who has been walking from Punta Arenas to Alaska via the Darien Gap, and just crossed the Bearing Straits by using the ice flow, with the final goal of getting to the UK, via the Channel Tunnel and will take something like 14 years, walking every step of the way! He is now part of the way through Russia but has been experiencing visa difficulties and has been using Ramey's place as a base so when we saw the sheer volume of equipment and camp food rations, we knew this must be the place. There were some cd's lying around the house including one entitled 'Bearing Straits photos for mum'. I could just imagine it- “Yes, that's very good Karl, now come and eat your dinner”. I'd read his book a while ago and was really looking forward to meeting him but unfortunately they were down in Seattle and Vancouver doing some promotional stuff. So we spent the following day doing fun stuff like oil changes and the like in preparation for the trip up north to our final destination- Prudhoe Bay (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prudhoe_Bay). I bought a bunch of dried food to take up with us on the 3 day journey including beer as it's totally dry up there! The road up there is just under 500 miles from Fairbanks and turns to dirt at the start of the Dalton Highway. Enroute, we crossed the Arctic Circle and naturally stopped for some photos. While there, a family on holiday insisted we join them for sandwiches and beer- couldn't really refuse!

Arctic Circle celebrities

On day one, we made it as far as Galbraith Lake, just over 400 miles from Fairbanks so not a bad effort really. It's really quite beautiful up there despite having a great big bloody oil pipe running alongside the road. On day two, we got up to Deadhorse, despite me getting a puncture only 20 miles from Deadhorse (easily fixed), my GPS giving up the ghost (only temporarily as it turns out) and finally, running out of petrol as we pulled up alongside the place for the oil field tours. Somehow, we'de made it all the way from Ushuaia at the very bottom of South America to Prudhow Bay in Alaska, 8 months and 18 days later. My starting milage was 62,831 and by the time we made it to Prudhoe, it was reading 91,926, a fraction under 30,000 miles.

"Clunk, click on every trip"-

you can never be too tooled up on a bike ride

Confused GPS- Alaska's f%cked up sunset/rise times

Midnight sun

GS shadow

The Deadhorse oil field is as far north as you can drive yourself. To actually get to the Arctic ocean, a few miles further north, you actually have to go on the oil field tour which costs $38. The blurb on the place goes like this: “Commercial oil exploration started in Prudhoe Bay in the 1960s and the field was discovered in 1968 Atlantic Richfield Company but production did not begin until 1977 when the Alaska Pipeline was completed. Production peaked in 1988 at about 2 million barrels a day, but had fallen to below 1 million barrels a day by May 2005, or roughly 300 million barrels a year. Total production from 1977 through 2005 has been 13 billion barrels. As of December 2005, it is estimated that only 3 billion barrels are left (recoverable), which is roughly 10 years of production at the current rate. In terms of recoverable oil, the Prudhoe Bay field is the largest in the United States, more than double the size of the East Texas Oil Field, the second largest”.

Anyway, we finaly got to dip our toes in the Arctic ocean under the watchful eye of the oil field security guard, all these months and miles since doing the same thing in Ushuaia. With hindsight, I think I'd have liked to have started the trip in Alaska given that an oil filed camps generally aren't the most beautiful of places compared to the lovely national park down in Ushuaia.

The Arctic Ocean- We done it!!!!

(hmm, think I actually prefered the Carribean...)

Well never mind, somehow we made it and it has by no means been an easy trip. Very briefely, we've both had lots of ups and downs throughout the trip but somehow, no matter what the problem was, there has always been a way out of it and a bed at the end of the day. Looking back on my photos of this trip just makes me smile and want to do it all again to be quite honest though my bank manager might disagree!

I'd just love to be back down in South America though, where it's just so different and diverse. To my eyes anyway, the people there seem to be generally a lot happier with what they have and never seem to be chasing some impossible dream like the rest of us in the more developed parts of the world. I miss seeing whole familes stroll round the plazas of an evening, the utter lack of globalisation and the same old bloody chain shops seen almost everywhere else in the world, the incredibly varied and stunning scenery, the corrupt cops, whole Mexican villages coming out to watch the building of a speed bump, potholed main roads, and for us anyways, low relatively cost of living and no doubt lots of other things that will come to me over the following weeks.

Hmm, I really don't fancy having to wash that!

As as for us and the rest of the trip, we still don't know where we'll be shipping our bikes from but a ferry trip down the inland passage and Vancouver are next on the list.

2007-07-17T03:13:00.000Z

Oh Canada

The wee border to Canada is surprisingly easy. So easy in fact that the immigrations girl forgets to stamp our passports, only briefely though. Its nice to be back in Canada, I've been here a couple of times before but not to the parts we'll be riding though. En route to Calgary, the fan on the KLR decides to stop working, though it turns out to be only a blown fuse and easy to fix, phew!

I'd briefly met a canadian guy in Baja who'd offered a place to stay in Calgary so this was where we were headed. It also turned out that the Calgary Stampede was starting the following day so some entertainment was guaranteed at least. We went into town on Friday morning to see the Stampede parade, catching erm, at least the last 20 minutes of it. I've honestly never seen so many 10 gallon hats! We also managed to get tickets to watch the rodeo in the stadium, as we'd heard it was a bit of an event by all accounts. It was pretty much a full house in the stadium as we settled in to watch mad people trying to stay on totaly mental horses and even bulls. I think the idea is to stay on for at least 8 seconds and if you stay on longer you get more points for looking like a rag doll getting shaken about in the mouth of a rabid dog. Impressive stuff to say the least!

Preparing to leave on monday morning during the first rain for quite sometime, we were loaded up and ready to go when (surprise, surprise) the KLR didn't start. After a bit of investigation, it turned out the battery was bone dry. Luckily our host had a charger so we gave the battery some much needed water and a bit of a charge and lo and behold, it started. Right, off the bike shop for a new battery I think! Whilst there, I picked up a new pair of Continental TKC 80s as mine are looking slightly knackered but I won't put them on till I see canvas showing through on the current ones.

We got to Lake Louise in the early evening and as usual in a National Park, it was chock full. So after allowing ourselves a quick look at the lake (nice, not many tourists) we decided to stock up on supplies and keep riding until we found another campsite when we bumped into Jim and Sandy on their Harley. They have a tent already set up and while chatting, we cheekily ask if we can share their pitch. They were such nice people and had no problem as long as the campsite ranger people were ok with it. Unlike the American campsite rangers, these guys couldn't give a shit. Jim and Sanday wouldn't take a penny for sharing their site with us so we agreed that if they were ever in Edinburgh or Oz to get in touch. Actually, that might be sooner than I think as Sandy's dad is from Nairn of all places.

We get to see Lake Louise and Lake Moraine the following morning in all their touristy RV-like glory. The night before, I was wondering what it would be like if all the carparks were actually full. Well now I know. Next on the hit list was the scenic Icefields Parkway (http://www.icefieldsparkway.ca/) in Jasper National Park, the road of which runs through a pretty valley containing several glaciers. We stopped at the Athabasca Glacier, which is 6km long and 1km wide and easily accessible though not if you have a lisp. It was pretty nice but I still think that Perito Moreno glacier is the best I've seen on this trip. There were signs as you approach it indicating where the glacier had extended to over the years and it is thought that it is now retreating at a rate of around 5m a year.

Near Jasper are some hot springs and seeing as we probably going to be getting a shower for a while, it seemed rude not to go and see them. With 4 outdoor pools, 2 hot and 2 cold, it was hard to leave but with the number of mozzies about, we finally extracted ourselves and got back on the road to a small campsite near Hinton. As it doesn't get dark till after 11.30pm, the kids were up to all hours screaming away, the wee buggers.

The next few days were a blur of trees, trees and er, some more trees where we averaged 450 miles a day and hit nearly 500. We're also on the Alaskan Highway, which has the proud boast of being the 16th Engineering wonder of the world. This 1400 mile long road was built during the WWII as a military supply route to prevent the Japanese invading and was completed in a speedy 8 months. Filling up the bike twice a day was certainly making a dent in my wallet as I was spending up to $40 a day on gas alone, bringing the daily cost to around $60-70 per day. At this rate, the monthly sum I pay into the account I use will run out very quickly indeed. As the end of the trip is also so near and after 8 1/2 months on the road, I really feel the need to cover greater distances now. Watson Lake, Whitehorse and Beaver Creek flash by and suddenly we're in Alaska!

2007-07-07T21:17:00.000Z

The National Parks and some other places

I'm the fire starter

In order:

Zion Canyon- Saw it first thing in the morning so the light was quite nice. You have to get one of the free shuttle buses along the canyon due to the volume of traffic in the summer.

Zion

Grand Canyon (the less touristy North Rim)- I'd read you need to book several months ahead for this campsite so it was no surprise that when we turned up, the stoney-faced Park Ranger woman on the desk told us they were full with no exceptions. The pitches were all pretty huge but she was adamant that there were no free spaces and the nearest camp ground was the service free National Park site about 16miles back the way we'd come. We asked a couple who were just setting up their tent if we could share it and amazingly they were ok with that. We offered to go 'halfers' with them on the cost but they refused so we ended up with free accommodation. We thought we'd wait till just before sunset to go and walk to the canyon, only 1.5 miles away but by the time we'd finished faffing with the dinner and dishes, it was getting late so we took my bike. We asked a Park Ranger in a car the quickest route and set off out the camp ground. Once on the road, I saw a Park Rangers car behind me so thought it was the guy we'd just been speaking too but my assumption was quickly dispeled when the lights came on the siren bleeped. 'Not again' I groaned as I started to pull over but the voice on the p.a. instructed me to 'pull in at the lodge car park'. The car pulled up behind me in the car park and what can only be described as 'Junior Cop' stepped out, a different one to the Ranged we'd spoken to. Apparently, I'd just gone through 3 stop signs in the campground and speeded on the road outside- just what I need! My excuse that we were in a hurry to catch the canyon before it got dark didn't cut it, neither did my assumtion that if there is no other traffic at a junction, I thought it was ok to drive through. When Junior Cop handed me my ticket for $75 (he'd reduced my heinious crimes down to just 1 stop sign), I said 'fantastic' in a slightly sarcastic tone. Junior Cop didn't like this, turning around like Robocop this time and said 'excuse me?'. 'Er, nothing' I smiled. Anyway, apart from over zealous coppers, the Grand Canyon was amazing and rather large. The next day, we packed up early and rode to some of the empty viewpoints were we had our breakfast without hoards of other tourists.

Its quite Grand, this canyon

Bryce Canyon-In a word 'stunning'. The canyon is full of odd shaped pinacle-like rock formations. We saw it sunset so again the light was pretty good. We have camped at all the parks and at least this one (Ruby's Inn Campground) had a pool to get out the heat again. Lots of Harleys going about the place though but hey, this is the USA so we'd better get used to it. The next day, we did a little hike to see a rock that vaguely resembles Queen Victoria.

Bryce Canyon

Harleys- get used to em!

We then spent a few days in Moab, Utah where we also checked out Arches National Park, but it was really hot and busy. Lots of big stone arches as you'd expect though. Then it was Dead Horse Point Park which has a view to rival any at the Grand Canyon. A bit of bike work on the KLR was required so we used the facilities at Arrowhead. Moab is a bit of a meca for mountain biking and trail riding but the heat was ridiculous so we had to give it a miss, maybe further north though.

We stopped in a small place called Leadville in Colorado, where there's a great hostel - http://www.leadvillehostel.com/. The owner, Wild Bill is a right character, originally from Mississippi and grew up being neighbours with BB King and is also pals with Bonnie Rait etc and blues music naturally flows from the kitchen stereo (check out the music on his 'menu' page). The town is located on the crossroads of the Continental Divide trail and the Trans-Am trail so its full of walkers including a couple of guys who were walking from Mexico to Canada. They'd already covered 900 miles in only 2 months so only about another 2,000 to go guys! When we arrived, we were greeted like old friends and even though it was pretty full, we were given a private bedroom downstairs. Wild Bill does a cracking 'all you can eat' dinner and breakfast which was just what we needed to fill the void left by the stomach stretching of Las Vegas. Leadville, being a former mining town is a facinating wee town too and Bill filled us in on some of the local legends and history. We were really sorry to be leaving only the next day as it would be easy to stay a lot longer!

The very friendly Leadville Hostel

From Leadville, it was an easy ride through some spectacular mountain scenery past Vale and Aspen ski resorts to Boulder, Colorado where we were staying with Chris and Erin Ratay http://www.ultimatejourney.com/ who are legends in the overland biking comunity as they got into the Guiness Book of World Records for a team covering the longest distance on bikes (4 years and 101,000 miles). They were great hosts, putting us up in their beautiful home which as you'd expect, had a garage full of lovely motorbikes. We managed to get stuff sorted out, use their computer for internet (as its getting progressively harder to find any now), repair my leaking Thermarest sleep mat and naturaly, work on the bikes. Chris also showed me the correct technique of how to pick up a really heavy bike like mine on your own, so that only took me 8 months on the road to find that one out! We also managed a couple of nights out on the beers, although embarassingly, we were totaly out of practice!

Now watch and learn- the 'correct' bike lifting technique

Boozin' in Boulder

We stayed about 3 days with the Ratays, but it was time to push on to Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks to the north. Grand Teton was yet another very pretty place, in a valley banked by the Teton mountains with Moose and Bison running free. Nice. We got chatting to a group of Goldwing riders in the campsite and one of them gave me a shot on his 1800cc, 900lb machine. Having no insurance, I was slightly nervous as I think he liked guns a lot but I had nothing to fear. It was a bit unwieldly to ride round the campsite although very comfy. He was probably as relieved as I was when I brought it back in one piece! There are also bears in the area (something we'll need to get used to) so the campsites are equiped with Bear-proof boxes for storing food, water, kitchen utensils and even your toothpaste. Slightly paranoid, we filled ours to the brim with our smelly stuff (of which we have a lot) in the hopes that Yogi didn't feel the need to come knocking on our tent.

Then it was Yellowstone, which has a north and south 'loop' roads so we camped in the south to start with. Being a very organised place, the showers were about 2kms away from where we got a pitch and it cost $18 as we weren't allowed to camp in the Hiker/Biker section like we were in Teton which only cost us $5 to camp. The south loop contains a lot of smelly sulphorous pools and of course Old Faithful, which went off more or less on time but for some reason, the one just down the road seemed to be gushing for a lot longer and a tad more spectacularly, oh well! On the way back down the east side of the loop, the road went through a totally stunning valley complete with winding river and herds of Elk and Bison. Despite the bear warning signs, we still hadn't seen one and were getting worried that we weren't going to when we came across an 'animal jam', ie someone spots something from their car and jams on the brakes to take a look, then everybody else does the same. Anyway, assuming it was probably yet another bison or moose, we pulled over and parked up. Walking back up the road, we were relieved to find it was not one, but two black bears having a bit of a forage in the berry bushes down in the valley below. The ranger who had turned up to sort out the traffic warned that if the bears decided to start coming up the hill, we'd all need to leave but they pretty much followed the creek allowing us to get a decent look through the binoculars.

From Yellowstone, our route took us through Bozeman, and finally up to Glacier National Park at the far north of Montana. We weren't going to stop for the night in the park so we stuck to the Going to the Sun road which cuts past a stunningly clear lake where we just had to jump in to cool off. The road eventually starts climbing up the side of the mountians, giving incredible views over the valleys below, definitely one of the bestest roads on the trip. So after a final camp in St Mary's on the other side of the park, the next stop will be Canada, one of my favorite countries.

2007-07-07T20:39:00.000Z

Sin City

The Glitz.....

The Glamour....

The Reality!

What can you say about Las Vegas? Gambling, the Strip, the Casinos, the lights etc. As all the hotel prices shoot up at the weekends, we timed just right so we arrived on a friday night so we knew it wouldn't be cheap, but somehow we got ourselves a room in the Hotel Imperial for $65.00, right on the Stip. I have zero luck whenever I gamble so we saved that for later, opting instead for a walk about the Stip. It was so hot even at night so we tried to keep the walking to a minimum. The Venetian Hotel is decked out inside to look like Venice with a real canal and gondalears, the ceiling is finished to look like the sky with sunset and sunrise simulated every few hours. $0.99c margaritas at Circus Circus went down well too.

Indoor Venice

The following day, we had planned to leave and camp somewhere to save money but we managed to get into Ceasers Palace swimming pool for free so we lounged about there for a bit to get out of the heat. For reasons still unknown, I thought it would be a great idea to go for a ride on the roller coaster which skirts about on the roof of the New York, New York hotel. All I can say is 3minutes was more than enough time. Thank God, there is a metro line running through the centre as there's no way you would want to walk the length of the Strip in that heat. My GPS thermometer was reading 53 deg C at one point so that might give you some idea. You may have heard of the 'all you can eat' buffets in Vegas, so without any delay, we tried the one in The Sahara hotel which looked like the cheapest at around $12. You pay to get in, then are given a fairly reasonable 2 hour time limit to gorge yourself silly. I was impressed by the sheer volume of food sitting on the tables of some people, obviously a ploy to avoid burning up any of those valuable calories going to and from the buffet table. It was about 7pm by the time we'd eaten more than our stomachs could ever possibly hold and we reached the startling conclusion that there was no way in hell we'd be camping anywhere that night so it was back to the Imperial to check in all over again and enjoy some air conditioning.

Ceaser's Palace pool

Sheer class

Oh, and we also managed to recklessly blow a massive $2 out of the kitty on the one-armed bandits. It was all just so crazy but hey, this is Vegas baby!

Whoa there big spender!

2007-06-23T23:47:00.000Z

Oooh L.A., L.A.!

Let's hear it for Hollywood!

Our first night in LA (ok not technically LA but just outside it) was in Costa Messa. We were put up for the night by someone Michelle used to work with in London. On the way in to town, we just had to stop at a proper American diner called 'Ruby's' (my mums name) for a decent burger, well 1/2 a burger- we share meals sometimes as you can quite often get refillable drinks and fries.

Ruby's Diner

We went out for quite a few beers (ok, 3 or 4- I'm very out of practice these days!) and the next morning I had to get my bike over to Petersson Performance Suspension in Anaheim to get my Ohlins rear shock serviced, though 'rebuilt' would be more apt as most parts that could wear out had worn out. After another $245 had left my account (man, this country is expensive) we headed over to San Fernando Valley, past Hollywood and Beverly Hills. Our hosts for the next thee days were Irl and Marni, a really great couple who both work in the tv and movie music editing business.

Stig sorting out my rear shock at PPS, Anaheim

Irl and Marni

Wanabe rock stars

Irl and Marni wouldn't be home till 7pm so we spent the day checking out some of LA including Venice Beach, which was fun as the board walk is full total characters. The houses along the beachfront and on the canals were just amazing. We rode along Santa Monica Boulivard and Bevely Hills where I suddenly realised that I didn't actually have Irl's address on me so I had to ask in some hotels if I could use their internet as there seems to be hardly any internet cafes in the US. I also wanted to go up Laurel Canyon as I new thats where the rock stars live so that was nice too. When we finally turned up at the house, Irl made us what I can only describe as the best gourmet deli sandwich ever- just what we needed.

What the Union Canal behind my flat in

Slateford should really look like!

Paying homage to the Lord of cheesy sax-

Kenny G!!

The next couple of days were spent checking out more of what L.A. had to offer including the Getty Museum and The Griffith Observatory, both really beautiful buildings up in the hills. I also had to check out the Guiltar Centre where all I could do was drool at hundreds of vintage Fender Statocasters and Gibson Les Pauls on sale for around $78,000, a bargain I'm sure you'll agree. I really wanted to see some live music while we were in L.A. and the best place to look for listings is the http://www.laweekly.com/ Rodger Waters was playing that night in the Hollywood Bowl but it was a little pricy for our budget, so I noticed that one of my favorite guitar players, Scott Henderson, was playing in a small club called The Baked Potato. And so it was that we spent that evening enjoying some live jazz fusion while eating huge baked potatoes.

Scott Henderson Trio

(baked potatos not shown)

Griffith Observatory

On our last day, we rode out to Malibu beach via Topanga Canyon road which was also great, full of fantastic properties. We also checked out Mulholand Drive, another place where the rich and famous live so we stopped outside Jack Nicholsons pad but he wasn't coming out to play. Down on Long Beach, we took a look at the Queen Mary but it was a tad expensive to do the internal tour. Cool to see her though. I have to say that L.A. is now one of my favorite cities.

Queen Mary and a Russian sub

Our next stop before leaving L.A. was George's place in Norco, just outside town. We'd met George in Baja and he'd invited us to stay. He was out of town that day picking up his daughter Sarah from the end of her college year up north but he sent me an email to say the doors would be open and just to make ourselves at home. Norco, you may or may not know, is horse capital of the USA so I think my cousin Sarah would love it. Its got a people population of around 25,000 and a horse population of 50,000 and you kind of get that impression when you ride through town ie bridle paths instead of sidewalks. No longer had we unpacked when George and Sarah came back so I helped unpack the pickup of Sarahs belongings. We had a really nice night listening to George playing one of his many banjos and I even joined in with my piss-poor version of duelling banjos! George also ran me across town to the auto store the following morning so I even managed to get an oil change in. I'm really enjoying this side of the trip where we meet total strangers, sometimes for a matter of minutes by the side of a road who are kind enough to put us up for an evening and in fact leave the front door open for us!

George showing us his banjo skills

Less 'duelling banjos', more ritual humiliation!

George and Sarah

2007-06-10T19:32:00.000Z

California Dreaming

We must be in Califiornia then!

We had previously arranged to stay at Cameron and Jessica's place in San Diego so we made a beeline for Mission Valley. Amazingly, and with very few detours, we made it with no problems. Cameron has a very shiny BMW 1200GS and is a member of the Horizons Unlimited and ADVRider sites so is pretty used to folk like us, ie threadbare clothes and in dire need of a hot shower! We stayed with Cameron and Jessica for about 5 days, during which time, we were driven to and from our respective BMW and Kawasaki garages to get the bikes sorted out properly. Michelles bike for the slipping clutch and mine for some very expensive steering and shaft drive bearings. Ouch at $750 but I guess my poor bike was suffering by this point, and lets face it,it really hasn't cost me too much over the length of this trip. I had ordered some other parts like fork seals, a replacement rear shock bolt and a new cable for my GPS which had stopped working some time ago.

Our hosts for San Diego

I did the fork seals to avoid paying BMW labour rates ($78/hour) which went fairly smoothly. When it came to removing the bent rear shock bolt (the shock had fairly severely bottomed out), it decided to sheer off inside my swing arm. Fortunately, Cameron has a very well kitted out garage and even had the right tool for removing pesky sheared bolts. Despite spending several days working on the bikes, we did managed to actually see some of San Diego and I even managed to get a pair of jeans that actually fit me. We also used the time here to have a clear out, sending equipment and stuff home we don't really need in an effort to cut down some weight. On our last night, Michelle and I made a barbeque to thank our marvelous hosts for their wonderful hospitality and Jessica's excellent cooking, and my potato salad seemed to go down well too. Next stop, Los Angeles!

2007-06-10T18:39:00.000Z

Baja-humbug

A lovely cactus- unique to these parts (if you're at all interested)

After Choix, I went to Los Mochis to get my ferry ticket over to Baja although the ferry actually leaves from Topolobamba about 1/2 hour away. Neither town was particularly exciting I have to say and it was all I could do to save myself from utter boredom waiting for the ferry that night. I finally rode up to the ferry queue around 8pm, having been told it would leave at 11pm and to be there at 9pm. The queue was already pretty huge so I was kind of glad I'd turned up early, however, being the only bike, I was waved up to the front. Nice one, I pictured myself shortly relaxing in the truckers lounge watching Mariachi bands on the big telly.

4 bloody hours I sat there watching truck after truck after truck get loaded on to that ferry. Finally at around 12.30am, as I was wandering up to the ferry to take a closer look I was ordered to get my bike on board, about bloody time! I quickly gobbled up what was left of the restaurant food, and although I had been allotted one of those awful seat things for the 6hour crossing, I chose to try and sleep on deck. This would have been fine except with several hundred truckers wandering about, it was a bit tricky. Finally, the excitable truckers decided to shut up and bed down for the night. I managed to sleep outside till around 4 am or so and them reluctantly based myself inside the 'room of chairs', where unbelievably they left the lights on all night. Getting fed up of people tripping on me, I got up and went outside just in time to catch the sunrise over the sea.

La Paz

Ceritos, fun-ville

I arived in La Paz which was slightly warmer than the one in Boliva. It appeared to be full of retiring Americans so I didn't hang around long and instead headed for the south coast and Cabo, which turned out to be full of holidaying and etired Americans. Again, there wasn't much to grab my attention so I headed up to Ceritos, a beach up on the west coast. Michelle had been there a few days earlier and had said it was quite nice, but after a bit of surfing (even got up on the board on my 2nd attempt), I found it quite boring as it was just so quiet. I hung around till midday the following day and decided to go and catch up with Michelle who had been having chain problems further up Baja. I shot back up to Las Paz (you kind of have too, there's only one road) and from there, up to Loreto which tool me till around 6.30pm. I was on a mission by this point as I knew Michelle was leaving early that day to go up past the boulder field at Catavina and would probably keep going till she got to La Bufadora, one hell of a distance away. I rode at more or less 90mph most of that day and once I'd got to Loreto, I decided to keep going as long as there was still some light. I met a Canadian fellow on a KTM 640 in Loreto in the internet cafe who was going my way but I had to bid him farewell as I was in full speed mode and wasn't hanging around for anyone.

I made it to Mulege by 8pm and although I felt like I could ride all night by this point despite having just ridden 400miles, I decided to free camp on the deserted beach outside of town. Wanting to semi-hide the bike, I tried sticking it behind some bushes but got promptly stuck in sand. Without hesitation and for the second time this week, I hauled off all my luggage, laid the bike on its side, turned it around and somehow got it upright. Walking alongside it in 1st gear, I got it back on to exposed but slightly more solid ground. I still had a few things I could make for dinner but as I didn't feel even slightly hungry despite not having eaten anything other than cereal that morning, I opted for the next best thing. 2 cans of beer and crisps.

A healthy dinner

I pitched the tent without the flysheet as it was pretty hot and also so that I could see the stars. I'd taken a couple of sleeping pill but just couldn't get to sleep. As I was lying there looking up, I just caught sight of a bright orange meteor shooting across the sky and burning up. Amazing! I'd set my alarm for an early 5am start but around 3.30am I must have somehow dozed for a few minutes but was awoken by the sound of voices and a car engine. Sitting up in my tent with only the mesh for cover, I saw a car with its headlights on pull slowly past my tent. What the...! Then another car, then another until there must have been at least 10 cars. They had pulled up on the little spit of land about 150 meters along the beach. And they started to have a party with really bad accordion-based mariachi music blaring from the car stereos. Right, bugger this I thought to myself as yet more cars inched past only a few feet from my tent. I got dressed and packed my tent up in the dark to avoid drawing attention to myself in about 20mins (how come it takes longer in the daylight?).

I set off in the dark, something I never like doing but I was still fired up to do a lot of miles that day so an early start of 4am was no bad thing really. The soldiers at the first military checkpoint decided to be cheeky as I couldn't hear what they were saying with my earplugs in although I did hear 'inglatere' and a few 'ha ha ha's'. I had to stop after about an hour as I was freezing so I put on most of my thermal linings that I hadn't used in months. I had done 200miles by the time I stopped for breakfast and lots of hot coffee in Guerro Negro where I rugged up a bit more as I was still freezing. From there, it was several hundered miles of pretty boring desert. I rode through the boulder field at Catavina but didn't find it that inspiring so didn't stop. Just before San Quentin where I planned on stopping briefly to check my emails, I noticed a bike by the side of the road that I thought I recognized. It was Michelle having stopped for some roadside food! It was quite a reunion I can tell you and after a week apart, we decided we'd done enough solo travel by this point. It turned out I'd just ridden by lunchtime what she'd ridden in 2 days!

I was literally shaking as I'd just ridden 500 miles before lunchtime so after we'd caught up with our respective travels, I said I couldn't face much more so we pulled into San Telmo for a last nights camping before hitting the USA border the following day.

2007-05-31T21:34:00.000Z

Creel- it seemed like a good idea at the time

(...and how I wet my pants)

I arrived in Hidalgo del Parral at nightfall, always the best time to arrive in a city and eventually found an expensive hotel for $18. It would have been $14 but I opted for the telly option. I watched a fairly trashy movie where the happless high school kids get chased around the countryside by a psycho in a Kenworth Freightliner, the main truck you see here. I couldn`t help wondering how it even caught up with them in the first place, these things are usually doing 15mph crawling down hills.

Anyway, I digress. There didn`t seem to be too much happening in Creel and as I`d splashed out on watching that rubbish movie the previous night, I need to save some cash so its off to the camp site for me. The site is split into two, on one side the cabañas and on the other, the RV parkground. I can only see two groups, an Icelandic couple in a German registered truck and some Americans in the biggest RV I`ve ever seen, actually a bit more like a rock stars tourbus. While I was attenpting to set up my tent on the concrete-like soil, a couple of American kids came over and offer to help. They asked me if I was a `survival guy`, a strange question but I replied, not really, I`m more of a hotel guy. I declined their offer of help as that would have just been embarassing and a couple of minutes later, a woman with the rock star tourbus invited me to join them round their campfire later.

When I do join them, there are about 12 Americans from New Mexico including one guy in a hi-tec wheelchair. It turned out that Richard had been in a bus accident 5 years ago and the driver went under a low bridge taking the roof off. He wasn`t actually injured but the whiplash paralysed him from the neck down. He`s an incredibly astute guy though and has a house building business back home. Their families used to do a lot of camping and touring so they bought the huge bus with part of their settlement. The other couple were from Iceland and have been going for over a year and were heading south in their German reg overland vehicle, complete with sand ladders, now that would be handy! I`m sometimes pretty envious of these guys as they can more or less stop anywhere and sleep for free. I had thankfully managed to source some beers in town so I enjoyed an evening round the campfire listening to stories of UFO`s (they`d all seen some), Mexico and travelling in general.

The next morning I set off to do the road to Batopilas from Creel. The first 48 miles are tarmac, then you take the turn off onto the dirt road. From the turn off, its maybe about an hour till you get to the edge of the canyon and the road starts to zig-zag downwards at an alarming rate. The views are just stunning though, hopefuly some of my photos might do it justice. I tried filming again but it was so bumpy, you`d probably be sick watching it. At the bottom, the road then runs along by the river, cutting in and out following the canyon sidewalls. At one point I lost it on a bend, coming round too fast the rear decided it was going to carry on and went over the edge of the sharp camber. Thankfully it was the wall edge and not the ´edge´ edge and I ended up with slightly wonky handlebars and a bit of a pain where I landed on my keys.

Finally I made it to Batopilas at around 2.30pm and it had only taken me 4 hours to go 90 miles. Now I just had to turn around and do all it again as I`d left all my stuff back at the campsite. I did bring some supplies like water, spare underware and toothbrush etc just incase it took longer. I say I brought water, but the 4L bottle cracked when I`d tightend the straps to fix my rucksack to the bike and about 3.5L of it had leaked out, all over my spare pants!

On the way back, I bumped into an American guy who I`d met on the tarmac road earlier with a brand new Dakar GS650 with Al Jesse luggage that he`d just bought in the states and was bring back to Mexico where he now lived. He`d said he didn`t have time to do this road but must have changed his mind and decided to do it. I think he might have regretted it though as when I saw him again, he was now carrying one of his panniers on the back seat. Apparently he`d also had a spill and had wrenched off one of the panniers. Oops!

It was a good job I booked ahead

The next day, I decided to leave, first visiting the canyon mirador at Divisadero and then taking the long way round to Los Mochis via the Basaseachic Falls but while at the mirador, I find out that there actually is a dirt road going all the way to Choix, with tarmac from there till Los Mochis. They say it will take 10hours and its already 11.30am so best get a move on. I haven`t a clue where I`ll end up tonight but I`m always up for a wee adventure so grab a few essentials like water (making sure not to burst the bottle) and chili chips and I`m set.

Divisadero

The road follows the railroad for a while and I even stand and watch as the famous scenic train passes below me. I also see a group of about 10 quad bikers out a tour having their lunch by a tree lined river. Its all good and the scenery is just fantastic.

The dirt road decides to change all that and as hairpin after hairpin come up, I`m quickly thinking that maybe the other road might have been a better choice. I should point out that the road surface is not actually dirt or a nice compacted gravel. Nope, its more like someone has poured several inches of plaster dust all over the road which gives the front wheel absolutely nothing to grip in bends, of which there are a lot. I reach a small town by around 4pm where the locals advise it will be another 4-5 hours just to Choix. I`m determined to make it there tonight despite getting a little lost now and then. As my map of Mexico is next to useless at this scale and my GPS is no longer powering up, I can now only use it for short periods to save the remaining battery to double check I`m not going miles off course. The road is a seemingly endless succesion of hairpins, on nearly everly one the bike feels like its going to go its own way. The surface is pretty horrendous too with potholes appearing every time I glance away from it, resulting in two blown fork seals. Its incredibly tiring although everytime I stop to look at my mountainous suroundings, it takes my breath away which makes up for all the pain.

I see the next small town is only 10kms away as the crow flies on the GPS, its 5pm so I time how long it takes to get there. An hour. I`m covered in dust and sweat when I am stopped at a military checkpoint who want to have a rummage in my panniers. While there, a guy in a 4x4 is also stopped and gives me a cold beer, he must have read my bloody mind! I stow it away to consume shortly down the road but before I do that, something is making a bit of a noise at the rear end of the bike. I stop to find one of my panniers half off. No, no! Don`t tell me one of the screw mounts has disappeared! I check to see and find its nearly off but still there- time for a cold beer and a look at the mountains I`d say!

I finally roll into Choix at around 8pm having covered approximately 140miles that day. I have some water thats now too warm to drink and the tosser of a hotel owner won`t let me put it in his fridge. Theres a tv in the room which doesn`t work and the wash hand basin has been nailed to the wall but I don`t really care. Theres a cold shower and a bed but not before another cold beer!

2007-05-31T20:31:00.000Z

Oooh what a Pickle in the Wild Wild West

After leaving Mexico City, we headed west via Morelia, Chapala, Puerto Vallarta and Mazatlan. I got into trouble in Chapala for ´running a red light´ (cue ´Breaking the Law´by the mighty Judas Priest). Actually I did it twice at the same crossing and the poor copper there was frantically blowing his whistle at me when I didn´t stop both times. He caught up with me as I was waiting on michelle who went the other way (out of embarrassment probably) and it turned out he had more or less put out an APB on me in the little town (I´m not really that hard to miss though). He wanted my licence to book me for a ticket but I started arguing with him, shouting ´So you don´t like tourists then? Would you rather no tourists came here anymore?´etc (it was a very touristy sort of place). He didn´t really like me but I was in the mood for a good arguement. He ended up letting me off with a warning so I just said ´good´and took my fake licence back. The ex-pat english guy who had stepped to translate suggested that normally people express their grattitide and shake the officer´s hand when they are let off. Like f%ck!

Michelle is off to Baja early to get chatted up by Mexican blokes and American OAPs and I`m off to Creel and the Copper Canyon, the place where HU has its annual meet in these parts and will head over to Baja when I`m done. First I head to Durango via the Spine of the Devil, where the land falls off either side of the road. Its a pretty nice easy route to ride which I make complicated by trying to film some of the riding on my digital camera. I duct tape my mini tripod onto the headlamp protector mounts which seems to do the trick and after a few trials and I have some not too bad footage.

In Durango, theres some sort of parade going on in town in the evening. Dozens of Kenworth Freightliners acting as floats with, I`m guessing, the local school kids all dressed up in a variety of fantastic costumes and sets. The whole town seems to have turn up which might go some way to explaining why I couldn`t find anywhere to buy a beer. Not that I`m an alchoholic or anything, its just that if I don`t drink beer every day, I get very cranky.

Durango as you may or may not know, is home to some western film sets which is due in part to the wild west scenery all around the state of Durango. Even The Duke, John Wayne himself had an estate here which his kids let fall into ruin after he died. I ride out to the one in Chupaderes having somehow ridden past the one nearby in Villa del Oeste (Michelle would never do that, she never misses anything). It only takes five minutes to wander the dilapidated streets with the rickety `saloon` and hotel. Thinking that I can probably take the little dirt road behind the town back to Villa del Oeste rather than get back on the main road, I wobble off along the track. I get maybe a kilometer or two outside the town when I come across a dried up riverbed disecting the dirt track. I get off to have a cursory glance and think `yep, that`ll be a piece of piss` and get back on the bike. I gingerly edge my way into the riverbed only to find quite deep sand, something I neglected to think might actually be a problem. The bike is now going nowhere fast and in a matter of seconds, HB burries himself up to his nuts in the deep sand.

Luggage off

Tactical move

Its the middle of the day, very hot, dusty and there´s no one around. I calmly take off all the luggage including, ironically, the new TKC80 I`ve been lugging since Medellin and think this might not have happened had I fitted it yet. I push the bike over onto its side to get it out of the sand and somehow upright it. I plan on riding along the riverbed, turning around and going back the way I came but it doesn`t happen, the nearly bald rear just gets buried again. Again, I lay the bike on its side and turn it around to face the way I just came but this time I just can`t seem to lift it, the full tank not really helping matters. At this stage, I `m thinking I might be in a bit of a pickle when I suddenly see a group of three police 4x4`s coming my way along the track in a cloud of dust and about 10 coppers get out. Its quite a surreal sight and unbelievably they`d actually come out to give me a bollocking as they thought I was going to camp and didn`t want me to start a bush fire, awww. They stopped mid-bollocking and were just looking at me like some kind of loony with my bike on its side and luggage all over the place including a Bolivian Charanga. I found it very hard to keep a straight face and after directing a couple of them to give me a hand, in a matter of minutes I was helped out of the riverbed and back on the correct road. Phew, at least that wasn`t embarrassing.

Er, thanks guys!

Villa del Oeste turned out to be a theme park tourist trap with an entrance fee and directions on where to park the bike (just how did I ride past it?). The main street it has to be said was in a lot better nick than the last place, however each building appeared to be a restaurant or eatery and in place of the cowboys horses munching on nosebags, there were groups of tourists munching away on tacos. I wandered around the buildings but didn`t find it too exciting. I guess if I knew what films had used this set, it might make it a bit more interesting. At around 3pm, they started one of those street scenes, with cowboys, a sheriff and some can-can girls but I left halfway through, partly because I didn`t understand a word of it and partly because I really needed to get up to Hidalgo del Parral (where Pancho Villa was assassinated if you`re interested).

2007-05-24T22:47:00.000Z

Mexico City

Garry, who lives in Mexico City, via the wonderful Horizons Unlimited, kindly offered to put us up (or put up with us) for a few days and show us around town. Luckily Garry is also a biker and has ample parking for 4 bikes at his place to the south west of the centre. We spent a couple of days sight-seeing in Mexico City and I was more than pleasantly surprised. The centre of town has some really great buildings and it´s pretty easy to get around using the metro system however even so, it did take the best part of 2 hours to get back to Garrys workplace as you also need to take a bus from the metro which grinds to a halt in the congestion that never seems to let up.

Mexico City

Garry also took me and HB to the BMW garage (one of the many there but the best one) where they took a look at my gearbox problem where I´ve been having difficulty changing from 1st to 2nd). I was expecting the worst when the said they´d need to open it up to take a look and it might take a month to get any parts from Germany. There are parts in the US but I´d need to order them myself and there would be no warranty. Well thats BMW for you. Anyway, after a quick look, the head mechanic said he was 90% certain it was a simple loose connection with the gear pedal and with that in mind, I gave him a list of other things to do to the bike including valves, throtle body synch and cleaning my totally filthy air filter. The next day, when we picked up the bike, the total bill was an unbelivable $75. I do belive Garry was (and probably still is) sick as a dog! When ever I visit a BMW place at home, I might as well give them 250 quid up front just to get them started.

HB getting a good seeing to

We met up with Garry´s son, Lloyd and the four of us went to visit the pyramds to the west of the city. Garry is an old hand at this place so instead of parking in the first car park like everyone else, we park up in the second and go see the two big pyramids. After that, we drive back to the first cark park to see the museum and save ourselves a 4km walk. And thanks to Lloyd, we were also enlightened by a visit to the El Santos coffee shop, which is owned by the gimp-mask wearing wrestling ledgend´s son. On sunday after tinkering with the KLR just for a change, we were treated to a roast lamb dinner with proper roast tatties and everything, fantastic!

El Santos!

On monday, our host was again kind enough to see us out of town because lets face it, I wouldn´t stand a chance of finding my way out of the city. We were taken out to another beemer place on the outskirts of town (just how many BMW garages are there here?) where we said Muchos Gracias to Garry for looking after us so well over the last few days and headed westwards.

Cheers Garry for a top weekend!

Quesadillia making!

And lets not forget Layla!

2007-05-24T22:07:00.000Z

Acapulco

After nearly 20,000 miles on this trip, I had so far managed to avoid being hit by anything much larger than an uncoordinated bird however all that changed as I was pulling into Acapulco. Skimming up the outside of a very congested line of traffic, I could see it happening before it happened if you know what I mean. The VW Beetle taxi driver makes a movement that stongly suggests he is about to pull a very quick U-turn right in front of me, and indeed he does. I heave the bike over to the left to try and avoid contact with the front left corner of the car now immediately in front of me however it is too late.

Crunch! It actually doesn´t feel as bad as I am expecting and when I open my eyes again, I am a bit further down the road but somehow I didn´t go down. I look around at the taxi, the driver of which appears to be in a state of shock as he´s still sitting in the line of traffic, however the best part of his front wing now appears to be ripped and dented to buggery. My rather solid Al Jesse metal panniers seemed to have caused more damage to his car than it did to my bike. And so with a ´see ya, sucker´expression to the driver, I shot off through the traffic leaving him wondering how the hell a bike just smashed up his car.

Speaking to an American guy who lives in Acapulco while I was having breakfast in a cafe the following morning, I ask what I really should see in Acapulco, to which he says ´oh, ya gotta see the cliff divers, they´re really something´. Well, I actually saw them the previous night, and yes, they were quite good, so I tried a different line of questioning.

´Er, so are there any decent bars around here I should maybe try?´

´Hmm, well let me see now. Well, I don´t know if you´re gay or not, but there´s some really great gay bars here in town´

Right, just fuck off.

Leaving town at sunrise

2007-05-24T20:59:00.000Z

Mexican Beachlife

I took the road south from Oacaca to Zipolite, a beach town on the coast. It turns out that this place is actually a nude beach (like I didn´t know) but before you get all excited, the goods on display were pretty horiffic.

Ahh, nice scenery, but er, wait just a second, what´s this...?

Aaargh!

Bejeezus!

Getting there, I got totally soaked crossing the mountains but was totally dry by the time I got to the bottom thanks to the intense heat. I also had a bit of animal fun on the way (no not that kind) by getting hit in the side of my helmet by a bird and nearly running over a 1m long snake and a rather large iguana. I stopped off for the night in a cabaña place called Solstice for $10 a night. Very nice little place by the beach. After a wander about along the beach and averting my eyes, I bumped into Ceasar from San Diago (from the previous hostal in Oaxaca and he of the voluminous snoring) so we ended up having a pretty good night playing fooseball (?) and finding the only decent bar in the place.

It was actually very quiet there so instead of hanging around the following day, I set off to Puerto Escondido, about an hour up the coast and checked into the Mayflower hostel for $9 for a dorm room. This town is quite famous for having the longest breaking surf anywhere in the world called the Mexican Pipeline though you`d have to be mad to go anywhere near it. The waves were absolutely huge and the beach had red `no swimming`flags up so I gave the surfing a miss. The hostal was a very friendly place so I ended up meeting all sorts of folk there though surprisingly, this town was also pretty dead at night apart from a few drunk locals who seemed to be trying to pick a fight with me and Andy ´from London but from Vienna´. God knows how he got so pissed drinking Sol.

2007-05-15T22:36:00.000Z

Oaxaca

It took a couple of days to get to Oaxaca so I had to stop off at Juchitan for a night. En route, I got stopped at one of the numerous army checkpoints around which I assume are set up to keep the army out of trouble. I was kind of tired and a bit hungover so during an inspection of my panniers, the boss man asked `drugs?`to which I was sorely tempted to say `aye, a wee dab o speed wid be just the ticket man` to quote Spud but decided to keep my trap shut as they had a lot of guns and not a lot of humour. I was kind of pissed off I had to pay $15 for a room with a toilet without a toilet seat but there weren`t many other cheeper places that I could find with parking. Great street food in the square here though, I reckon my sister would approve as virtualy all Mexican food seems to come with chili.

Monte Alban- nice but not quite Tikal

So from Juchitan, it was an easy 1/2 day ride through some rather pretty scenery. I really enjoy the scenery so far, the only thing that spoils it are the Topes (speed bumps) which are placed every 10ft or so. The first hostal I tried from the book had closed down but I eventually found a decent place (the name sounds like a plate of ice cream) with some form of bike parking. I spent a couple of nights here in a dorm room which wasn`t so bad once I took some sleeping pills and shoved my ear plugs in a bit more to drown out the snoring. I visited the ruins at Monte Alban, a short distance out of town which were nice enough but didn`t really compare to the ones at Tikal. Oaxaca is a pretty nice place and apart from the severe downpour on the second night but it was entertaining to watch the students parading outside after breaking up for the year and then disolving into a fist fight later.

El Studentes

2007-05-12T02:41:00.000Z

San Cristobal De Las Casas (or the home of Mexican Ska music)

Having enjoyed a nice ride into SCDLC, I found myself a pretty crappy place to stay but it did have secure parking and cost $8, but unfortunately I was the only one staying there which wasn´t too exciting really. After a wander around town, I checked out a few places that had live music, falling in to one by accident when I heard the band setting up, The first band on was a salsa band in the Santana vein with a fantastic rythm section (my mate Cal would definately approve) with some pretty neat acoustic guitar playing. Next up was a local Ska/punk band who were just great, top notch rythms again and realy great bass playing. After these guys finished, I had a ticket for a free drink in a place next door which also had some music going on, it turned out to be the first bands great percussion guy but this time on drums, while the bass player was this really tiny guy which made the bass look huge, quite something to watch!

Crawling in at 1.30am and waking the overweight owner to come down in his underpants to let me in made up for him telling me I had helmet hair when I arrived.

Smallest bass player in the world *

* probably

2007-05-11T22:29:00.000Z

Palenque

After the border schenannigans, I headed to Palenque while enjoying the lovely new Mexican scenery. I tried several places for accommodation, the first dorm I looked at was incredibly depressing and empty. Not feeling like commiting suicide just yet, I eventually opted for a room for $15, more than my normal budget but this one had cable tv, a toilet (with a toilet seat!) and good Lord, a swimming pool. I had quite a pleasant evening bobbing about in the pool with my beer and chatting to some of the other tourists there, some of whom convinced me I really should include Mexico City in my plans so I think I just might.

The following day, I set off to find the immigration office just outside Palenque however after speaking to several of the officials there, I was told it was `no problemo` and it wasn`t really neccessary. Hmm, we`ll see about that when I try and leave the country. After that, I set off to have some more water-based fun at the Misol Ha waterfall and Agua Azul, a few km´s up the road and en route to San Cristobal del las Casa, my next stop. The Misol Ha waterfall was not too shabby though I only had a brief stop there however I spent a good few hours at Agua Azul, it was a pretty nice day and the water was just so clear and refreshing in the heat. Its basically a nice, clean river where you can swim and float downstream but with the added bonus of stunning waterfalls and beautiful scenery.

Well it beats working for a living!

2007-05-11T21:31:00.000Z

Viva Mexico!

Taking the long dirt road south and west of Flores, I headed in the direction of a border with Mexico called Bethel. The guy at the garage said the dirt road would take two hours, perfectly timed to coincide with lunchtime for all the country`s officials so I made sure I gave it my best shot. I made it in an hour (Grrr, do I sound like Strikingviking?)

Arriving at the immigration office (well actually, speeding past it, then backtracking a bit) I got my passport exit stamp in a couple of minutes but there was no aduana though. Hmm, I´ll deal with that later. Outside, a mouthy local started offering the use of his boat to cross the border river for $40. I didn`t actually have $40 on me and managed to talk him down to $20. And with our agreement sealed, he then shouted over at what I took to be his dopey son to bloody well get on with it. The place where the boats are is up the riverm about 10kms north of the immigration office and when I got there, I found a wide river with loose pebble beaches on either side. Lurvely. I got there before the son, so I started walking over to a couple of other guys with similar boats to check them out when the son suddenly screeched to a halt in the pickup. He had got someone else to go and get the boat and a couple of minutes later, a young lad of around 15 showed up in the motor launch. So with the help of these two and another kid who looked about 8, this motley crew set about getting Herr Bertie into the launch which was no mean feat in the heat of the day (mid 40`s).

Pishing sweat, we finally managed to get the beast up the ramp and into the boat and following one of my shortest ever boat trips, we arrived in Mexico. Just one thing, pull Bertie backwards up the planks and get him on to the nice, loose pebble beach. This time, it proved a little tougher so we enlisted the help of several more locals to finish the job. That done, I paid up and repacked the bike on the beach. Wayhay I thought, Mexico, kicking up the side stand and pulling the bike upright, it went straight over the other way and landed on its right side. For the first time, I was actually glad of the smirking spectators whom I quickly enlisted to get the bike upright once again. Wayhay Mexico etc. And more carefully than normal, I edged my way along the pebbles till I hit the actual road.

I found the Mexican immigration office quite quickly, bloody hell, I thought, this is a bit easy. After parking up and walking over to the office, documents in hand, I found what I can only describe as being very similar to the vacated offices I have been to so many times in my line of work to carry out a Dilapidation inspection. Rubbish lying around, old bits of knackered furniture and out of date calenders on the wall. Except this one had a mattress on the floor. There was a scruffy, unshaved looking man (like I can talk) sitting behind the window desk munching on mangoes and making a right mess of the desk.

"Er, Aduana y immigration?" I proffered.
"Si, claro" was the reply with bits of mango going all over the place.
" Em, no, esta Aduana aqui? I tried again.
"Si, tranquillo, tranquillo"

Usually when people tell me to be tranquillo, I want to punch them and seeing as this guy was clearly mad as a hatter, I went across the road to one of the touristy restaurants. I´d seen a few tourists zooming about the river in boats so I know there must be some sort of official Immigration office around here somewhere. Looking like I`d been sprayed with yellow dust from head to foot and then given a liberal covering of sweat, I walked into the restaurant full of smartly dressed, lunching tourists to speak to someone who might actually know what they were talking about.

"Si, si, esta" said the waitress pointing across the road to the building I`d come from.

Bejeezus.

As I was walking over to office, a car pulled up outside it and a smartly dressed OFFICIAL looking person got out and went into the office but before I could even get near to the window again, a huge tourist bus full of Germans marched out and went straight to the window where the official started stamping every one of their passports. Bloody marvelous! I sat on my bike giving each of the tourists the evil eye (behind my sunglasses though).

I hate every last one of you

When he was finally finished with the tourists, I quickly lept up to the window, just in case he decided to shut for a second dinner or something. Amazingly I got my passport stamp sorted easily enough however he confirmed that there was no Aduana there and to try in Pelanque. He went outside to chat with the madman who was now picking limes off a tree, and after pissing up against his own office wall, he disappeared in his car.

2007-05-05T00:56:00.000Z

Guatemala- Lava, Lakes & Ruins

We ended up pretty much racing through Honduras and El Salvador in a couple of day so nothing to report other than the usual tediousness of several border crossings, including the immigration to El Salvador where it was decided that my bikes engine number didn`t match that in the V5 document so they delayed giving me the temporary import by 3 1/2 hours. While waiting for my paperwork, a Russian called Vladimere or something screached to a halt outside on a new GS1200Adv. It turned out he had left Moscow in October, popped down to South Africa via Spain, shipped the bike over to Buenos Aires and this was him now in El Salvador only 6 months later. He also carried a rather large machette on the bike with which he would weild and shout several angry "fuck off"s to the numerous kids hanging about at border crossings and anybody else that got in his way. Each to his own I say.

Anyway, the first real stop in Guatemala was Antigua, a pretty colonial town in the south of the country, known for its cool architecture and abundance of Spanish schools but we had to cross through Guatemala city, one of the most congested places I`ve ever had the misfortune to ride through. In Antigua though, we holed up for a few days in one school which doubled as a hostel and had secure parking. I really enjoyed Antigua, its got a very relaxed feel about it and its also where I had my 37th (groan) birthday. We hiked up Volcan Pacaya, an active volcano one afternoon which turned out to be quite exciting. As there were numerous tour groups up there, when the lava flow decided to alter its course and start flowing towards us, there was kind of nowwhere to run as the best path was pretty much blocked with people taking photos further down. If you`re ever been up an active volcan, you`ll know how hot the ground under your feet gets and some stupid sods had turned up with flip flops on. Fortunately, the crowd eventually managed to get out the bloody way and nobody ended up with red hot lava on their shoes. It was pretty incredible to see the hot stuff flowing by that close I can tell you.

I also had to get a new spring fitted to my rear Ohlins shock as the bike sags by about 9cms fully loaded when it should only sag by around 4cm. After countles emails and phone calls, I finally got through to the right person in the BMW shop in Guatemala city. Resigned to a day of horrible riding through solid traffic again, I set off to find the shop in the heart of the city, well ok, Zona 4. Eventually I fought my way through the frankly bloody awful, solid traffic and found the right place. They were very helpful giving me several options and I opted for the 180 rated spring. The technician pointed out my rather bent lower bolt which connects the shock to the swing arm, apparently this would be caused by the shock bottoming out rather severely and having no where else to go- oops! A couple of hours later, I was heading back to Antigua with a new shock fitted and feeling about 5cms taller.

After Antigua, we headed off to Lake Atitlan and somehow got separated in leaving Antigua. I assumed Michelle had headed on towards the lake so I set off to catch up while she thought I was still somewhere in Antigua. When I arrived in Panajachel by the lake, I checked my emails only to discover Michelle was still in Antigua! I got checked in to the hotel and got some chores done by which time, Michelle eventually turned up. The following day, we decided to go on a tour of the lake, the boat stopping on three of the villages around the lake but to be honest, by the 2nd one, things were looking quite similar so with the thought of hanging around a 3rd village for another hour, we and the rest of the boats passengers jumped into the back of a pickup truck heading back to Panajachel.

Our last port of call in Guatmala was Tikal, the mayan ruins to the north of the country which meant a rather long days ride. The guy in the Beemer shop had given me a route and although he mentioned part of it was unpaved, I found that section pretty tough going, well it had been a while! Trying to overtake trucks in a cloud of dust on the narrow dirt road proved to be more than enough excitement, several times I nearly came acropper as I litteraly ran out of road to overtake. With much relief, we finally pulled in to Flores, the small island town in Lake something or other. I knew we`d need to be up early to get to the ruins before it got A. busy and B. ridiculously hot so it was a total joy when the alarm went at 5am. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised by the ruins, many of them are about 60m high and stick out from the trees like pre-columbian skyscrapers. Apparently, if you were a rather big cheese in the Mayan world, you got one of these bad boys plopped on top of you- respect!

We´d talked about doing our own thing for a while and Michelle wants to go and see Belize while I fancy getting on and in to Mexico, plus as she`s already backpacked around Mexico so it seems like a good place to commence our own mini adventures for a bit. So with a fond farewell, we headed off in our respective directions, Michelle towards the Belize border and me to a pretty obscure river crossing into Mexico. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

2007-05-03T21:40:00.000Z

Nicaragua

Stopping in La Cruz just before the Nicaraguan border, who should we bump in to but none other than Bob, THE official Smellybiker http://www.smellybiker.com/ and Angie his girlfriend who´s not smelly. After a few beers (where after about 15 attempts, I finally managed to do the ´open the bottle with the bic lighter trick) we agreed to cross the border together the following day. The crossing actually turned out to be relativelly painless apart from a dying printer which delayed the proceedings somewhat and the bizzare $1 ´taxes´once we´d crossed, we were in Nicaragua.

Bob, `avin a fag

We stopped off in San Juan del Sur for a couple of days. Its a bit of a surfers town by the sea (well, obviously!) and we booked up for a days surfing at the beach about 10kms away. The following morning, we set off in the battered transit van with the other ´dudes´. I'd like to say that after my surfing lesson in Peru, it was a breeze. But it wasn´t. I got fed up not being able to get up on the board inthe morning so I gave up around lunch time but by the afternoon after a bit of a break, I somehow managed to get on the board a few times. Ok, there were no style points but I was quite pleased with myself. Next surf stop- Mexico!

Just another San Juan sunset

Hmm, this is quite easy

erm...

ooops!

Me, later in the day (honestly)

We bid his royal Smellyness and Angie fairwell the next day and thought we´d pop over to Isle Ometepe in Lake Nicaragua as it was supposed to be good and the biggest volcanic island in freshwater or some such thing. Anyway, en route, yours truly got pulled over by a fat cop for (wait for it...) crossing the white line in the middle of the road. He was dealing with some minor bump/accident thing by the side of the road as I approached and overtook the slow van in front of me.

Because he was pulling vehicles over left, right and centre, I just assumed it was one of those annoying checks where they look at your documents, grumble a bit and then wave you on dismissively. He first asked for my documents and feeling cheeky, tried to casualy hand him the 150-odd bits of paper I´d just accumulated at the border, but when he saw that, he screamed ´licencio licencio!' or something. Oh whatever, so I handed Mr Grumpy my International Driving Licence as it was on the top of the pile so he took this and scribbled out a little yellow ticket which he gave to me.

´Er, what the f%ck is this?´I asked to which he mimed his way through my offence, crossing the central line and shaking his head somberly and wagging his fat finger. Thinking, 'bollocks, I should have given him one of my fake licences´I attempt to give him one but he walks away holding up my licence shouting ´esta esta!' Arse, thinks I so I follow him as even if I did want to pay the 300 Cordonas fine (which surprisingly I didn´t) I had no idea where to pay or how to get my licence back. I got off the bike and shouted at him and started walking towards him but he back off quickly and jumped into his police car and sped off. Well I never! Not to worry, I´ve never actually used the International Driving Licence for anything and have a scanned copy anyway.

After quite an expensive ferry crossing, we rode round the north side of the island which was all dirt. (It was only later on that we found out there was a paved road round the south of the island!). It was pleasant enough but after looking at the black volcanic ash beaches, the towels stayed firmly in the panniers and we headed back to the mainland for Granada for a night. Granada is quite a nice colonial place but still feeling like I need to make up for lost time in Colombia, it was off the a small town just before the Honduras border the following day.

Granada

2007-04-30T01:27:00.000Z

Fortuna & Lake Arenal

We ended up wasting a few days in San Jose which was actually a bit of a dump ("Do you know the way to San Jose? etc" Yes, unfortunatelly I do!), waiting on a shop to open (bit of advice- never arrive someplace on a bank holiday weekend), but it turned out that they didn`t actually have the part I`d ordered weeks ago (a stiffer spring for my rear shock). Thanks for letting me know, Larssen Motors of San Jose!

After that, it was up to Fortuna to see the active volcano, Vol Arenal. We camped for the first time in ages which was nice but after bumping into Sandra and Lars (from the boat) I was almost a little jealous of their $20 a night room with a/c and cable tv and then I remembered that I was really hardcore and I don`t really need such luxuries....

We thought about doing one of the tours to see the volcano at night which all include a visit to one of the 3 thermal baths here but opted instead to take a ride out there ourselves. There was a faint glow at the top but it wasn`t really worth getting the tripod out. After a bit of research, I decided on going to the Eco Thermales baths as the write up for the Baldi Thermal baths wasn`t that great. At Eco, there are 5 baths, stepped upwards, each getting hotter. The idea is that you start off at the cooler of the 4 hot baths, working your way up, then finish off in the very cold one at the bottom. It was a fantastic place and very luxurious but you could only really stay in the hottest one for just a few minutes before you start getting an idea of what it`s like to be a lobster in a pot.

Pleasingly, they also operate an `honesty`system (don`t laugh) for the bar. You leave all your stuff in your locker so you have no cash on you. When you go to one of the bars, you order what you like and then you tell the person on the front desk what you had as you pay on the way out. And lets just say I enjoyed my `one` beer very much thanks, hic...

Eco Thermales with free bar, er I mean `honesty´system

We left Fortuna with the intention of doing some serious miles, but in fact we only got as far as the German Bakery by Lake Arenal, which is a staggering 40kms away. We only popped in for some elevenses (great Apple Struddel and ice cream) but it turns out the bakery is owned by Tom who is a bit of a bike fan and all round top bloke. We were invited to stay in the nice cabaña round the back and were also taken on a tour of the lake that night in his rather fab 8-seater speedboat. When we returned later that night, the power had gone out in the town again so we raided the bakerys various fridges for all sorts of cheeses, sausages and breads to have by candle light. Way to go Tom!

German Bakery, Lake Arenal

Tom, owner of the German Bakery

2007-04-17T01:14:00.000Z

Costa Rica- It`s a little bit like Wales!

Its a pretty tedious border crossing from Panama to Costa Rica. We took turns in doing emigration and imigration. I took the former which was relatively painless. Michelle took the latter which took about 2 hours while I chatted with the locals outside which wasn´t too bad.

A bit like Wales, sort of

Once through, we rode to Uvitos, a small place on the Pacific coast. We´d read about a hostel called Cascada Verde which was a commune type farm where you could camp and help out, that sort of thing. Once we eventually found the place, it was no longer working as a farm or commune. After speaking to a german guy living there, he let us pitch our tent in a timber shelter as long as we promised not to create any work for him. As it turned out, there were some other people living there while the place was in limbo: Polly, a vet from the UK who´d studied in Edinburgh and another german guy helping to renovate the main building into a hostel. The house in a fantastic setting up in the hills accessed only by a steep dirt road, the building itself is open so you can see all the nature around you. It was very generous of the people living there to let us stay for a night for free, even providing coffee the next morning and use of their kitchen.

Cascada Verde- Very ´Open Plan´

Just the ticket for a morning dip

2007-04-17T00:53:00.000Z

Hats off to Panama

Panama City

After a night in Portobello, the following morning was taken up with a bus into Colon to get the paperwork for the bikes which took several hours. Once back in Portolbello it started to chuck it down with rain so we had a very enjoyable and wet ride to Panama City. Lots of people mentioned Hotel Montreal as a place to stay but once I found out they wanted $33 for a night, the next on on the list was Hotel Buena Vista on the same street and for $17, we got a double room with a/c and secure parking. Dodgy lift though.

After months of Indain and Chinese food deprivation, we were thankfully able to sort that problem out in Panama City. Its a pretty modern place, full of huge skyscrapers and new developments all over the shop but still retains the old town sector for that colonial charm. We got ourselves along to the big ditch, the Panama Canal which is fairly impressive to watch. It takes on average, about 8-10 hours for a ship to cross from one side to another across the various locks. For some reason I was expecting the tankers to shoot up 20 odd feet as soon as the locks are opened but in fact, its a fairly stately affair. The visitor centre is well organised with videos and an informative display of how the whole shebang works.

Miraflores Locks

Next stop was Boquette, a swiss alps sort of place in the hills. The temperature plumeted and suddenly we were caught in yet another rain storm with serious mist. I´d like to say the scenery was great but we didn´t see too much on the way up though the next day revealed lush greenery and a town surrounded by mountains. There´s a lot to do here including rafting and hiking etc but as we´ve been delayed so much we are pushing onwards to Costa Rica.

2007-04-16T22:55:00.000Z

Worse things have happened at sea you know

Long story short- Hung about in Cartagena for about 3 1/2 weeks waiting for a boat, any boat. During this incarcination, we went up to Taganga for a week. I tried diving but pretty much hated it, not comfortable with all that breathing underwater stuff you see. Then back to Cartagena for a few unsucessful views of incredibly dodgy supply boats and finally the only boat we can get is The Melody, a 44ft sailboat.

It could have been ours!

Now given we arrived in Cartagena before the 15th March as instructed by Mark, the Melody´s captain and given it didn´t actually turn up till the 30th March, I´ll admit I would have rather taken the first barge out of there but seeing as that wasn´t an option, it was the Melody or nothing. Oh and as I predicted, Mark´s promise of a ´quick turnaround if there were at least 2 other people´turned into a wait of another 4 more days and an incredible 9 people on the boat.

So....On the eve of our scheduled departure, we turned up to the marina on the outskirts of Cartagena to get the bikes loaded onto the boat. To do this, mark tied a thick piece of rope around the bike´s frame and handlebars, then after nervously pushing the bike to the end of a narrow pier, the main spinicker line is tied to the rope on the bike. After that, its just a simple matter of winching the line which once the bike starts to get off the ground, it wants to swing into the side of the boat so another line is used to control the lateral movement. I´ll admit my heart was in my mouth a few times but in fact, it went pretty smoothly and after an hour or so, we had both bikes lon the boat, tied down on either side of the mast. Phew.

Don´t f%cking drop it!

So the next morning, we duly turn up at the marina at 6am to meet our fellow yachtie travellers and to finally get moving towards Panama. The plan is for 2 days sailing to the San Blas islands, 2 days on the San Blas islands and one days sailing to Portobello in Panama. Now normally Mark only goes to the San Blas Islands for 2 days, but as we´ve been waiting for 3 1/2 weeks for his boat, he has decided to give everyone an extra day on the San Blas so we´ll be there for 3 days not 2, strewth! After leaving shortly after 6am, we were somewhat detained by the Colombian Coastguards who, after boarding the Melody, spent the best part of 1 1/2 hours along with an a sniffer dog, going through ALL the luggage (which had all been secured by this point) and inspecting every nook and crany on board. Thankfully after finding nothing suspicious, it was out to sea.

Anyway its a little cramped on board, what with 9 people but at least we have the better of the few beds there are. There are 3 ´doubles´, 1 section of couch and er, the floor so they claim 8 beths). I´d heard from one of the guys who was on the boat coming the other way, that en-route from the San Blas to Cartagena, the captain announced that he´s not so good between 1am and 6am and so goes to bed leaving the night-time sailing to the passengers. Unbelievable but true and as we´d had the pleasure of paying double the fare that eveyone else was paying, we made sure that we didn´t lift a finger all night. I did do some sailing from 6am the next morning though, more due to not being able to sleep than anything else. Michelle didn´t take too well to the swell though and after spewing off the back of the boat, spent the next couple of days in bed where the movement of the boat wasn´t too bad.

There really wasn´t much to see for the first couple of days as we were out of sight of land but around 10pm the following night, I woke up (sleeping as much as possible was the best option) to find we´d finally arrived at the San Blas. We anchored next to Old School, Marks shrimping boat that they hope to turn into a floating hostal one day (but not if the Kuna people have anything to do with it though). The next day, we were taken to Pot Luck, one of the islands in a rubber dinghy. It was a nice but very small island of maybe 150m diameter and a few coconut trees although the water was very clear and we managed a couple of hours mucking about till we were summoned back to the ´Mother Ship´ for a dinner which didn´t happen for another few hours. On day 2, it pretty much rained all day so we made pancakes and drank though when it did finally clear up in the afternoon, Mark went off snorkelling with 2 of the passengers leaving the rest of us with nothing to do as there was only one dinghy.

Pot Luck Island

On day 3, (our bonus day if you will) we were all taken on Melody to the Kuna village islands which none of us really wanted because we knew that Mark was actually going to church there anyway so it really wasn´t much of a bonus. We were dropped off to wander around the island and meet the locals, though most of them appeared to be drunk. There really wasn´t much to do there for 2 hours while the captain and his wife went to church (they´re Mormons) and thankfully we were picked up again and taken back to Old School. We managed to occupy ourselves well enough the rest of the time as we all had a fairly good supply of beer and rum. The latter was put to good use by Sandra and Lars, Michelle and I in cocktails made with the plentiful supply of fruit on board.

Thankfully Monday finally came and it was ´up anchor´ as we set sail at 6am, first for El Porvenir for some passport stamping and then to our destination, Portobello. I could feel the stress of the last month disapearing already. We arrived just before dark which meant that by the time it came to off loading the bikes, it actually was dark. The offloading process is similar to the loading one but as there is no jetty for our size of boat, the bikes were lowered onto a small launch with yours truly holding it upright. The launch then motored over to the pier where a group of ´helpers´were waiting. The bikes were then manhandled (in the dark, no one thought to bring a torch) off the launch and up to the pier. The stress of the last month suddenly reapeared at this point as this process was less than smooth. After one of the (very drunk) helpers fell into the water (twice), God knows how but somehow we ended up with 2 bikes upright on the jetty. That is something I´ll never want to do again. We arrived in Panama exactly one month after getting to Cartagena. Next time I´ll fly from Bogotta!

We did meet some great people on board though: Sandra and Lars from Sweden, Volka from Germany, Ethan from Canada, Neil from UK and (another) Michelle from Australia who for reasons only known to herself was going to ´boat-sit´Old School for Mark and his wife for a month while they went on holiday.

2007-03-11T21:31:00.000Z

Cartagena

Before leaving Coveñas, we enjoyed a quick dip in the rather warm ocean and then it was a fairly wet and soggy 3hrs to Cartagena where we had a hotel booked. Enroute, I had both my panniers thoroughly checked by a rather severe looking soldier which was actually a first. Furthermore, we´ve somehow made it all the way through Colombia without having to buy one of those motorcyclists waistcoat things they all wear here so I believe tourists don´t really need them.

We´re here waiting on a boat to hopefuly take us to Panama, and we´re also waiting on a new rear shock being delivered for Michelle`s bike so I reckon we´ll be here a week or so. After 3 days in our small hotel room, we finally found a good alternative, an air-conditioned appartment with a kitchen and balcony with secure parking (that doesn´t involve taking the bikes up stairs!) and a swimming pool on the roof- sweet!

2007-03-11T20:46:00.000Z

The Longest Day

Leaving Rio Claro at a very sprightly 7.30am (which trust me, is very good for us- the benchmark for leaving a place being 4.30pm at Rio Gallegos) our aim was to do a long day and get up to the Carribean coast in time for a rum and coke on the beach. This meant 3 hours backtracking via Medellin again and heading north all the way. We were told that it would get cold on one mountain pass then start to heat up as we got lower on the other side so I was a little jealous of Michelles new ventilated and armoured mesh jacket. The road was increadibly twisty and there were loads of gun-toting soldiers all over the place so we stopped for a couple of photo shoots with some looking cheerier than others.

Some cheery soldiers

Some not so cheery soldiers- I`ll just get me coat

At one point I lost Michelle when she´d stopped behind me to take her jacket´s outer layer as it was stinking hot and the road was chock-full of slow trucks. I stopped a little futher down the road past a bridge and checkpoint to wait for her so I removed my jacket and helmet. While I was taking a drink of water and chatting to a local who kept offering me her cheesy wotsits, I could just see michelle´s right pannier sticking out from behind a line of trucks coming my direction, but she hadn´t seen me and started overtaking the line of trucks as they were going past me. Fantastic thinks I, so its back on with my gear, locking the panniers and cheerio to the local. Trying to catch up with someone who thinks that you are in front of them isn´t easy and i had to put aside any thoughts of riding with fuel economy in mind and ride like a loonatic, which is a little tricky as all these little towns have speed bumps everywhere.

Just when I think I must be getting close, I get pulled in to a check-point where I´m asked the usual ´where are you from/going/thats a big bike isn´t it?´questions. This really isn´t helping my cause and I try asking the soldiers if they had happened to notice another large motorcycle heading in the same direction. They mention something which sounds like ´antiquo´(old- ha ha) and ´roha´ (red) so I make my excuses and leave them in a cloud of dust. Further down the road I get caught in yet another set of roadworks (they´re everywhere) but luckily the signal is green so at the other side I ask the sign-holding woman the same question to which she mumbles ´si´. Finally, after about 20mins of manic riding and bouncing over speed bumps at not-very-town-friendly speeds, I catch sight of Michelle in the distance weaving to the front of yet another peaje queue so a few minutes later I manage to get her to stop by the roadside and she told me she was just beginning to wonder why I hadn´t stopped to wait for her. Strewth! It turned out though, that Michelle had also asked the same roadworks woman if she´d seen a big bike in front and she´d said ´si´too.

I knew it was going to be around 6.30pm at the earliest before we´d hit Coveñas, our target on the coast which would mean riding in darkness for a bit in Colombia, something we´d been warned not to do. Fortunatelly, once off the hills and on to the hot plains, the roads straightened out a bit allowing us to make up some time. The scenery at this end of the country is really pretty nice with lots of open farmland and even some leafless trees giving a somewhat autumnal feel to the route. The roads were quite busy in places though, which was a bit of a mixed blessing as although it slowed us down a little, at least it gave us some peace of mind as the sun quickly started to set. Finally and completely knackered, we hit Coveñas (actually we´d already driven straight through it as there´s helpfully no sign) by about 7pm in the pitch dark, and after taking the first cabañas we found, it was straight to the beach (the first time we´d seen the ocean since northern Peru) and to get that drink.

Cheers!

2007-03-10T20:13:00.000Z

100% Colombian- Last stop for South America

Let´s hear it for Colombia!

Despite expecting a long and tedious border crossing, we got there about 8.45am and had somehow crossed into Colombia just 50 mins later. They did have an incredibly camp looking border guard checking the contents of car boots etc so maybe that had something to do with it. No matter, we are in!

So hands up then class, what do we know about Colombia? Well, by all accounts, the 80s/90s, were quite an interesting time to be in Medellin when the drug gang warfare had escalated to the point that ´Sicarios´, basically teenagers, could be hired for as little as $30 to settle old scores resulting in the city being given the dubious honour of being the murder capital of the world. However since some of the major drug gang leaders have been bumped off, the city has transformed itself though not a lot of tourists know that yet.

Also there are still issues with the FARC and the ELN although they are mostly kept at bay by the Colombian army around the border with Venezuela and the Darien Gap although we were also told the bit between the border with Ecuador and Cali were also a bit dodgy. Furthermore we have been told only to ride during the day and never at night and not to stray off the main roads too much. Oh and motorcyclists are supposed to were some sort of waistcoat thing with the bikes numberplate on the back. I also new that we would have to ride through Colombia fairly quickly as we had a date with a sailboat leaving from Cartagena to Panama around mid March. Today was the 2nd of March so best get our skates on.

With this in mind, we took our first tentative steps into our last country in South America. My first thoughts were that the condiditon of the roads were bloody good and there always seems to be a team of fluorescent boilersuit-clad folk clearing out the roadside gutters and trimming the verges. And there were an awful lot of blokes standing around by the roadside with machine guns but these thankfully turned out to be the Colombian army and police checkpoints. We have been stopped quite a few times but mostly just to check our papers are in order (thankfully they were) and to ask where we are going/from etc.

After a couple of nights stopping off in Popayan and Pereira, we made it to Medellin and quickly found Casa Kiwi but only thanks to the GPS waypoint on their website. http://www.casakiwi.net/ They have secure bike parking and give a 20% discount to bikers. The hostal is located in the El Poblado district of Medellin which is really quite nice, full of good bars, restaurants, loads of designer furniture shops and most importantly, lots of bike shops. Oh and before I forget, the Thai place (sorry can´t remember the name) nearby does 2-for-1 for food and even better, 3-for-1 cocktails before 7pm.

Casa Kiwi, Medellin

So after plundering the nearby bike shops for a new jacket for michelle (and oggling a new black and shiny Ninja 1400 at the Kwaker shop for me!), I had to get to Ruta 40, the BMW dealer (www.ruta40.com.co) which is located more centrally in town for some new tires as yet again, I need some new rubber. I had emailed Juan David Agudelo at Ruta 40 previously so they were expecting me and had the tires ready, a spanking new pair of Conti TKC 80s, sweet! What I wasn´t expecting was their incredible hospitality and generosity. David speaks very good english so spared no time in showing us around their shop and workshop and providing the best Colombian coffee we´ve tasted. The shop´s Manager, Mauricio has been from Argentina to Alaska on his BMW R1150GS and the walls of the shop are decorated with fantastic photos of his adventure and he is only too keen to help fellow bike travellers.

I only needed the front tire changed and would be carrying the new rear until my current MT60 wears out however the guys didn´t charge me to change the tire. I also needed a replacement rear tail light lens (as mine fell off in Ecuador and shattered). They first mentioned they could get me one for about $50 however shortly after, it transpired that Mauricio had a spare one lying around at home and would bring it in the following day and give it to me for nothing. Unbelievable! Leaving the shop later that day with handfuls of stickers for the bikes, free t-shirts, a rear tire round my neck and a new one on the front, posing for photos with David and Mauricio and being offered more assistance and information I could possibly ever need, I left Ruta 40 with a huge grin- thanks a million guys! Compared to any other BMW bike shop I´ve ever been to, this one has to be the best (though the one in Glasgow is actually pretty good too). I´d heard about the Colombians being really friendly and at Ruta 40 and at the Suzuki shop (where we got Michelle`s jacket), we were repeatedly offered tours of the local area and given a tonne of good information by fellow bikers.

David and Mauricio at Ruta 40, Medellin

During our brief stay in Medellin we also took a ride on their new cable car and on the metro system. Their must be a lot of money being pumped in to Colombia as there are just so many new developments around. Obviously a country on the up by the looks of things. We just didn´t have the time to see all that had been suggested however taking the advice of the Suzuki dealer, we took a trip to Rio Claro, about 3hours to the east of Medellin along a great road with amazing scenery. There, you can go rafting and kyaking etc in the beautiful canyon river but we just opted to wander and swim. Our accommodation was a little bit better than our previous jungle trip and the first floor room was open on two sides, so that night we got to watch the incredible lightening storm, all from our bed.

2007-03-09T19:18:00.000Z

Not Quite the Equator in Ecuador

Do we get a refund?

The ´real´middle of the world

This must be the place

After a few days in Quito running around sorting out various bike related headaches like valve clearances and throttle body synchro etc, we continued north to the border with Colombia at Tulcan. En route, we would be crossing the equator so had to pull in for a photo stop. It turns out that the large monument marking the ´middle of the world´built around 70 years ago was actually built about 250m off the actual equator. Duh! The real ´middle of the world´was actually marked out on top of a nearby hill around 1200 years ago and was only found about 5 years ago. Its also spot on when checked with a GPS but it involved climbing a hill and we didn´t have time anyway. After getting ripped off at the official equator (they don´t refund you either) we went over to the small museum outside the centre where the small team of researchers there give a fantastic presentation on the real equator. As you need mountains (fixed points) to check the suns position, Ecuador and the Andes are the only place on the planet to do this as the rest of the equator cuts through forrest etc. The point marking the middle of the world is slap bang in the middle of the Andes.

After visiting the equator, we ended up taking a dirt road towards Tulcan which took forever to eventually hit tarmac and conveniently, my rear brakes decided to fail because of the heat. They eventually came back but don´t feel quite as good as they did before, hmmm, brake bleeding required maybe? After a long day, we eventually hit Tulcan by nightfall, a bit of a dump of a place before the Colombian border but will make tomorrows crossing a bit easier if we can get there early as we´ve been told it can take about 4-5 hours. Oh joy!

2007-03-01T00:31:00.000Z

Jungle time

After arranging the trip to the jungle from Tena, we rode on to Coca, a town based around the oil industry so pretty it ain´t. We get set up in a hotel with secure parking for the bikes for a few days while we´re away in the jungle. The hotel has a big garden area which is occupied by a variety of parrots, monkeys, a toucan and some things that look like overgrown rats without tails.

At 4.00am the next morning, we´re up and eventually get a taxi (no thanks to the hotel) to the bus station where we are to meet Orlando, our guide for the next few days, on the overnight bus from Tena. The bus station is a bit like a muggers paridise but thankfully the bus arrives on time and thankfully he´s on it and we´re on our way to Limoncocha, about 3 hours away. From there, its a 20 min boat ride to where our jungle accommodationis situated. And its basic. For our $120 each, we get a mattress on the floor of a timber hut with a mosquito net. All meals will be provided by Orlando for the next 3 days so no cooking for us.

River taxi

All the mod cons

Yes, that is an ant. A large one

Day one- We go for a walk into secondary jungle for a few hours and get introduced to a variety of plants and animals. Its actually quite interesting and Michelle even gets a face paint and jungle princess head-dress made out of leaves. After a bit of lunch, we´re off fishing for pirhana in the river. Now I´m a little apprehensive about this and my fears are increased when we see the boat, a very narrow timber affair with a rather large hole and an impressive amount of woodrot. We´re given timber paddles and a wooden fishing rod and we´re off up the river. After rowing for a while, we stop at a likely spot and cast our lines. Orlando is a bit of a natural at this and starts landing some of the sharp-toothed buggers fairly quickly. Unbelieveably, I manage to catch a big red pirhana, a real bastard by all accounts. It drops off the line and falls into the boat, snapping away, narrowly missing Michelles behind. After a few hours of this, we head back to the ´accommodation´ and Orlando starts preparing our dinner of, you guessed it, pirhana.

My catch!

Day two- More walking, this time into some primary rainforest. This looks much like the secondary stuff but there´s more stuff growing all over the place. Its not a very easy walk though as a lot of its in boggy ground and our guide doesn´t seem to arsed about explaining about the plants and animals today. We get back to the camp and get some lunch. It in the afternoon, we had been told we´d be going to meet some indiginous tribe or something. It turned out we got to wander about the camp area where Orlando explained a few things about plants, how they are used for medicinal purposes and which are the best ones to get you off your tits. He also made some real string from a long leaf which was actually pretty cool to watch. The meeting the indiginous peoples consisted of wandering up to where the man and wife who live at the camp were harvesting corn, and I had to help carry it back to the house, fantastic.

The evenings entertainment was again giving some cause for concern. We were going looking for caimen, a slightly smaller aligator, in the river. In the dark. And in a leaking boat. We set off about 7.30pm in the dark but we were accompanied by Mr Caimen himself, the owner of the place. He apparently has the uncanny skill to spot caimen and to imitate their mating call or something. It turns out to spot a caimen, you shine a torch about the water and the light reflects off their eyes, just like cats eyes, so not that hard really. And the mating call sounds a bit like Mr Caimen clearing his throat. My head torch was picking up shedloads of the things but they all seem to disapear whenever we rowed close. Eventually, one caimen about 2m long, was kind enough to hang about to get his photo taken. It was a very unusual experience as the jungle makes a very different noise at night. During the day, its mostly birds doing nifty impersonations of car alarms going off with some monkeys thrown in for good measure however at night, the air comes alive with the sound of frogs on the riverside. And even better, there are tiny little insect things that sit on leaves and glow in the dark, fantastic. What I didn´t really like was rowing through what initially looked like a light river mist but was in fact mosquito larvae hatching. Certainly makes you paddle a bit faster.

Mosquito larvae, nice

Who´s a pretty boy then

Day three- The took another leaky timber boat with marginaly less wet rot of to another part of the reserve where we took another walk. This one was spiced up slightly by seeing a 3m long black and yellow snake. It certainly spooked our guide who hadn´t noticed it and nearly stood on it. Again, more stuff on plants and their uses to the people who live here then back to camp via the river again.

You REALLY don´t want to be in this water

Our taxiboat (with a motor!) was coming at 5.30pm to take us back to catch the bus so the afternoon was spent in the hammocks doing bugger all as the humidity is so high, you just sweat all the time. I was actually pretty thankfull to be out of there though, it´s a nice place to visit but I wouldn´t want to live there. When we got back to our hotel in Coca later that night, the beer has never tasted better!

Good entertainment back at the hotel

2007-02-20T00:15:00.000Z

Welcome to the Jungle

..............................................................we got fun 'n' games,

We got everything you want, honey we know the names

We are the people that can find whatever you may need

If you got the money honey, we got your disease.............

And so the song goes.

Indeed there is fun and games but unlike the jungle in G´n´R´s version, it´s a bit hot and sticky, and there´s only one decent restaurant in Tena but its run by mad people with a flipping sloth hanging off the ceiling.

We came to Tena to arrange a trip to the jungle and after much searching, ended up getting something arranged at the Hostal Limoncocha who do tours from Coca, a town about 4hours north. We did try looking at tours from Tena but to be frank, they all sounded rubbish. The one from Coca sounds a bit more like it and will last 3 days.

But before all that, it turns out this is Carnival weekend where this lot go a bit bonkers. We ended up going to two beach partys in places by rivers. One was in Shandia, about 1/2 hr away by bus and was pretty much just the locals, a canadian volunteer bloke and us. I ended up getting roped in to a inner tube race down the river, what a blast and I somehoew even managed to come 3rd.

3rd place ain´t so bad

Kids pelting the bus

The other party the following day was held in Misahuali, again about 1/2 hr away on the bus. This was different though as it was packed and there were a few gringos about too. It was basically the biggest water fight I´ve ever seen, we were totaly drenched but at least we´d thought to wear our swimmers to the party. It was a brilliant laugh though and there a few bands who we could salsa away to and then came the Pilsener ´Lovely Girl´competition (just like in Father Ted) which basically involved some rather under-dressed young ladies getting beer poured over them. It was really all so sexist and I´m sure very degrading for the ladies in question so it was just as well yours truly was there to report.

I´m not really sure this is what the

missioneries intended when they came here

Beach party

Ha ha!

2007-02-19T23:10:00.000Z

Go with the flow

We bumped in to Mark and Daisy from the UK on an Africa Twin (www.markincyberspace.com) en-route to Riobamba who were coming the other way. It was great fun to meet up with them but a shame we were headed in different directions as it would have been great to go for a piss up with them. Some other time guys!

Mark and Daisy!

After staying in a nice Riobamba hostel with slightly strange owners (recommended by M&D), we were heading off to Baños, not the toilet but a spa town about 65kms north, about an hour or so´s drive away. All was going well until we came across a bit of a landslide which had taken the road with it. Now I tried for about half an hour trying to get the KLR over it but had to admit defeat in the end. While we were turning around, what did we see but a Catapillar earth mover coming our direction and it turned out they were just going to clear the road. And about an hour or so later, it was clear enough for us to ride across, cheers lads! Very bizzare that it had happened in August last year and they turned up to fix it while we were there.

Argh!

Ahhh

Wayhay!

Don´t look down

So that was the end of the problems or so we thought. It was actually just the beginning. Rounding the bend, I came across a totally impassable section caused by a rather lava flow. Again thinking that we´d need to turn back, I started turning around when 3 locals (yep 3) on a 200cc bike waved us onwards. We followed them to the edge of the flow and I watched the driver manouever the little bike down into a steep gulley and up the other side via a really narrow section of loose volcanic rock. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that Baños is on the other side of a rather active volcano. And when it says that the road is closed, it probably really means it.

Gritting my teeth, I went down the same route but became quickly aparent that my large bike was really going to struggle here. Luckily the locals assisted and I got the lardy beast through. Going back to do the same with the KLR, Michelle asked the locals if that was it and it turned out there were several more of these before hitting Baños- great.

And so it went for the rest of the journey. The small bike going first dumping its 2 passengers before tackling the obstacle, nervously followed by me on the GS. We´d have to take my panniers off as some of the tracks were just way too narrow. At one point, my rear wheel started slipping downhill, luckily I had some very useful assistance before it disapeared for good. Then I´d come back to take the KLR over which luckily is a fair chunk lighter but not much. I ended up using two tips given to us by mad Timmy, the Canadian from Cusco. One was to have someone (Michelle) turn and pull the front wheel when trying to get over boulders when the bike just wouldn´t budge. The other for really really steep parts was to flick the engine kill switch off and keep the bike in first gear, that way you use the clutch as you´re brake and your feet can stay on the ground. Finally after much sweat and very nearly tears (as I kept hitting a bruise on my shin), we made it but not before giving those 3 locals a $10 beer tip for their help. Thanks lads!

2007-02-14T02:29:00.000Z

Hey hey hey, we´re in Ecuador!

After a relatively painless border crossing, we were now in our 5th country. And you know what that means? Yes its time to go shopping for another sticker for my panniers.

But before all that, I notice a few differences between Peru and Ecuador. Firstly its very green and hill which I find rather agreeable however it seems to rain rather a lot here. Also, they seem to actually paint their roadhumps unlike Peru so you don´t trash your suspension or God forbid, forkseals. The folk out in the country seem to have pretty large houses, of the size that would cost 3-4ook in the UK while driving some rather new and shiny pickup trucks so it can´t be too bad. The people even wave and smileat us, something that seemed to fizzle out in Peru so its a nice change.

We pull in to Cuenca and immediately notice that it feels slightly Americanised with custom car shops and even flower shops. Its a lovely city and we find ourselve a great hostel with a beautiful garden area. I say its lovely, but the kids are little ba$tards. Its warming up to Carnival time and they´re getting their practice in at throwing water bombs at pedestrians, namely us. We first get hit from a car at traffic lights, Michelle is not happy as she´s wearing her new jeans she just bought. Later, as we are recovering from a near hit from 3 water balloons from a balcony, we walk round a corner and Michelle gets hit in the stomach with another one thanks to a drive-by. Its just not her day really. If we see any little kid with a water gun, they get met with an icy ´don´t even f&cking think about it´sort of look. Doesn´t work though.

2007-02-14T01:39:00.000Z

Bang Bang Bang! It´s a puncture

So following on from our encounter with seeing dead people, drving in to Sallinas, I hear a repetative noise coming from my bike. Thinking its a bit of rubbish, I pull over tothe side of the road to have a look and find to my horror a bloody 6" nail sticking out from my brand new rear tire- Bollocks! As I´m thinking how best to tackle this, a guy in a car on the other side of the road starts shouting ´peligro´(danger) and waving his hands about like a madman. As I´m not actually on the road but to the side of it, I just shrug and get on with worrying about my rear tire as he speeds off.

A few seconds later, a guy on a little motorbike stops next to me and starts repeating the same hysterical warnings, however this time he makes his right hand into pistol shape and adds a few ´bang bang bangs´as an interesting sound effect. Hmmm. I´m now thinking that there´s maybe something in this ´danger´malarky after all, however as I attempt to point out the bloody 6" nail sticking out of my tire, he dissapears in a cloud of dust. I look around for the dangerous bandits that will shoot me and steel my bike but I just see locals getting on with their daily business.

I look at the nail and know I need to pull it out, and as I do, the resultant hiss of my tire going very quickly flat also slightly depresses me. As Captain Mannering used to say, ´don´t panic´ but just at that moment a knight in shining armour turns up, a copper on a motorbike! But even HE starts with exactly the same charade ending in the now all too familiar ´bang bang bang´sound effect, however I have to stop him right there and point out that actually, he´s got a bloody gun to which he responds with a sort of spanish ´oh yeah, so I do´.

So as I rather quickly start reading the back of my tire repair kit (which was thankfully included with my MotoPump as I´d used my only other tubeless repair back in Valdez), my new armed guard, well er, stands guard keeping watch for any baddies and restoring my faith in justice and all that while I get on with fixing the tire. Thankfully the hole is a breeze to plug and I immediately get the electric pump going. I´m trying to get the tire up to a nice 36psi and am regularly checking the pressure but my new armed friend is getting rather twitchy and has other ideas and more or less suggests I pack up now and finish this somewhere else. He actually waits while I get all my paraphanalia put away and get on my bike but no sooner have I turned the ignition, he´s also off like a shot (no pun intended) in a cloud of dust.

Anyway, nobody gets shot and we make it to the border and all live happily ever after. The End

2007-02-11T23:47:00.000Z

A different kind of roadkill. Northern Peru

Riding through Chiclayo, I somehow managed to get us a bit lost in rice paddy fields. You see, I no longer have great GPS maps for this area and they tend to miss out rather a lot of detail. The road should have gone straight through the town to Piura but instead, we found ourselves riding between waterlogged paddy fields for what seemed like miles. Of course I knew where we were, it´s just that the road I was aiming for happened to be on the other side of the rice fields. We certainly got a few interesting looks from the rice workers as we wobbled along the narrow ridges. Somehow, we did eventually find the correct road and rode on to Piura for the night before getting to the Ecuador border.

After a really bad breakfast (cold distilled coffee like treacle and stale crispbreads anyone?) we were on our way north again to the border. After about an hour, just before Sullana, there was a bit of traffic stopped on the road. When the bus in front of me pulled out to pass the obstacle, I saw a crowd of people and a couple of policemen standing next to a truck on the side of the road. In front of them was someone´s dead body under a some rags though their bare feet were stickng out from the bottom. Just beside the body was a few bits of pink stuff which was quite clearly that persons brains. I´m getting used to seeing various different types of roadkill from dogs, cattle, donkeys and even horses which are left to rot on the roads but this one certainly shocked me.

2007-02-11T22:50:00.000Z

Huanchaco, Nothern Peru

We stopped off in Huanchaco by the seaside after a recommendation from Andreas & Kristina and stayed in the Hostal Naylamp. Its a nice, quiet little beach town where the local fishermen catch their er fish using reed boats, very similar to those on Titicaca, however these guys surf back in. Trying to get into the swing of things, we booked up a surfing lesson from the place a hundred or so meters north of the pier. Our lesson started with us looking like knobs wearing wetsuits on the beach practicing paddling and getting up on the board on the sand while getting plenty of amusing looks from the locals. Then it was of to sea, so we paddled a good bit out while Eduardo, our instructor, swam out with flippers. He then gave me a gentle push before a good wave came in and I have to try and scramble on to the board and remain sort of upright.

After a few unsucessful attempts, I somehow made it on to the board and did a rather pathetic wobble before falling off. And so it went for the next two hours and I even managed to get up and stay up a few times so I must have learnt something.

Oh, and Eduardo´s family run a little mexican restaurant upstairs so we popped in later that night to sample some of Eduardo´s mum´s cooking. And it was fantastic, best salsa I´ve had I reckon. It´s a shame though as he´d like to go to Australia to surf but to do that, he needs to work for a year to be able to go for a month. So if you´re in the area, please pop in and get a lesson. If he can teach me, he can teach anyone!

2007-02-05T21:23:00.000Z

Poor Wee Mikey Boy's not a well little boy (warning- not for the faint hearted)

Actually, for the last few days I've been on the Slimfast 'Shit yourself thin diet'. Getting a cold last week (which I still have) was bearable I guess, but when you can't stay off the loo for more than a few minutes at a time, it's really not that entertaining, especially when you're in a hostel without 'banos privados'.

I know you don't need to hear this but sorry, I have to 'share'. Last night, after climbing from the heat of Lima and the desert back up to 4000m again made me quickly regret having just packed away all my cold weather gear the previous night so it all had to come out again to stop my shivering. We had to drive very slowly through thick, cold mist with 10m visibility (I even nearly ran into a cow) and relentless rain. But having to stop at disgusting roadside toilets that look like they've never been cleaned (with no seats naturally) and finding suitable spots on the hillside for all those unexpected 'calls of nature' without locals magically appearing is all quite depressing, not to mention getting ripped off by corrupt cops (see below). And all this when I'm already feeling lousy. My cold has been such that in order to breathe while riding, I have developed the rather disgusting habbit of having to blow my nose into my left glove and somehow getting rid of it on the tank- Sorry Bertie! I feel a bike wash coming on...

When you're feeling low like this, you start dreaming of home comforts when you're riding, like 'wouldn't it be nice to have just one night in my flat, with the bath running, the fire on and a fridge full of nice fresh food'. While riding last night, I kept dreaming of Heinz tomato soup for some reason, don't ask why. A lot of the time, the food here isn't that great and you come away feeling like you wish you hadn't just eaten whatever it was. Or it was so bland, it was basically just 'fuel'. However, in Lima, I did have the best chinese I've had since the start of the trip which helped somewhat. I haven't been able to weigh myself so far but after the last few days, I doubt I'm anywhere near the 13st I was when I left Scotland.

Anyway, instead of moving on today as origionally planned, I have decided to have a quiet day off kicking around here in Huaraz, trying various internet cafes until I find one that actually works, and taking as many imodiums, rehydration sachets, lem-sips, antibiotics and painkillers as my body can stand. Its anoying feeling so crap here as there appears to be some fantastic mountainbike riding here. Oh well, there's always Whistler. However last night, we did manage to find a nice clean (and I can't overstate that) hostal with private bathroom and an incredibly comfy bed so it's not all bad.

Oh, and for lunch today, I somehow managed to get some really great tomato soup which helped cheer me up, it's the small things you know...

2007-02-05T20:37:00.000Z

Good Cop Bad Cop, its all the same

Yesterday, after escaping the driving hell that is Lima, we were on the road to Huaraz in the mountains. The guide book said 6 hours, we left at 9.30am and got here at 8pm so that´s a load of bollocks. Anyway, one of the reasons we were late in getting here was all thanks to one of Peru´s finest. Cruising slowly though a small town, the cop in the police car on the other side of the road nearly dropped his coffee and donuts as we rode past. Looking in my rear view mirror, I saw the car pull out, do a U-turn and start to follow us. Bugger thinks I. We get pretty much to the outskirts of the town when the car overtakes Michelle, sits behind me and flashes his lights. Double bugger.

The fat man strides over smiling to where we´ve pulled in, commences with the Buenos Diaz greeting and in reasonable English the usual ´Where are you from/going to/ how long, are you married etc´. Then he starts talking about my bike, pointing to my tank he says ´ooh, its a BMW, how much does it cost?´ At first I think he said how big is the tank and I say 22 Litres. He goes ´ooh, 22 mille dolleres eh?´ Oh no, says I, it´s more like 3,000 if I´m lucky. Generally I don´t like answering this question (which I get asked a hell of a lot here) but thinking he seems harmless enough, I don´t mind in this instance.

Anyway, once the pleasantries were out the way, he next asks for my driving licence so I give him one of my crappily laminated copies, they don´t know the difference anyway. You get stopped all the time here and its not unusual to be asked for your licence, vehicle registration or import document several times a day. On the way to Machu Picchu, a cop stopped me and asked for my Vehicle Registration which actually I´d left at the hotel. Shitting it, I hand him my laminated driving licence which he is happy enough with. Anyway, back to this looser, he pulls out a small book and points to a paragraph, quite evidently relating to speed fines and then to the figure of 170 soles (about 30 quid).

Apparently, if I understood him right, we were doing 45kph in a 35kph zone according to this prick, but he also mentions something about 80kph so who really knows, although there´s no mention of where this dreaded offence took place. I´m then summoned over to the rozzer mobile and am told that it will cost 170 soles. I refuse to pay this as A) he had no evidence to give me of the offence/s ie radar, camera etc, he just pointed to his knackered looking speedometer B) I told him there weren´t any speed signs to no avail C) I asked to go to the police station to deal with this but it turned out this was in Lima (like bollocks it was) and D) I wanted some paperwork like a ticket but I got nothing.

Oh, and his English speaking capabilities had suddenly reduced to a few smiling ´no intiendos´ to all my requests. In the end, he reduced his pathetic demand to 85 soles which I stupidly ended up paying. I won´t next time, I´ll be wasting a lot more of their time than mine I can assure you. Anyway, as I had to give him a 100 soles note, I demanded change. Turning round smiling to his rather silent co-wanker, who I understood him to say ´just tell him we have no change´so wanker no 1 produced an empty ashtray and with a sorrowfull look said, ´look we have no change´. I persisted though and eventually got my change.

This is the first time we´ve had any problems with the police as on the whole, they´ve been very helpful and friendly. So continuing on our merry way to Huaraz, every town, and I mean every town has a cop car at right angles to the road watching the comings and goings. My new trick is to slow down to a total crawl and give the bastards a hearty big wave. As its very vague as to what the speed limits actually are, I reckon we´ll be seeing a lot more of this behaviour on the road ahead...stay tuned.

2007-02-04T03:25:00.000Z

Nasca and the Lines
30/01/07-01/02/07
The ride to Nasca thankfully involved coming down in altitude to a rather more pleasant 600m, but the price to pay was the heat. Coming through the desert towards Nasca, the temperature soared so when we arrived, I needed to shed most of my bike gear to avoid turning into a puddle of sweat. The ride from Cusco to Nasca is really great though, I quite enjoyed turning into a bike hooligan on the countless bends while my near-bald rear tyre didn't spoil things too much.

We picked Hostal Via Morburg which had secure parking and we booked up a flight over the famous lines for the following morning. I was kind of nervous about this as I'm not a great flyer even though I do fly microlights as bizzare as it sounds- It's a kind of 'backseat' driver sort of thing.

At 8am the following morning, we were picked up from the hotel and taken out to the towns airport where we were met by a very anxious pilot who was keen to throw us into his plane and get moving, always a reassuring thing in a pilot though I'm pleased to note he is wearing an ironed white shirt and sunglasses like the proper pilots. Within a couple of minutes, we were airborn in the little 6 seater Cesna airplane and on a course to the lines at around 120mph. There was quite a difference between this and the microlight, which only cruises at around 55mph but takes off a lot faster.

The lines have been here for well, ages and several theories abound as to what they were used for. Everything from astronomy, agriculture, religious ceremonies, water channel locations (it´s a bloody desert for God´s sake, there just isn´t any) and naturally a landing site for aliens. If you´re interested, the lines were actually made by clearing the rocks away and exposing the gypsum rich soil beneath. The most amazing thing is that they wern´t discovered until about the 1930´s or so and they just can´t be seen properly from ground level. How they made the shapes and lines so perfectly is still a mystery. There was a German woman who devoted most of her life to mapping, restoring and researching the lines and we went to a talk about her and the lines the previous night. Basicaly, about 30% of the lines point to the position of the sun at summer and winter solstice but then we´re pretty near the equator so I´m not sure how much difference that really makes. It might have helped you ín the field´though. Then there´s the water theories which some folk think the lines relate to underground water channels. Again only a few of the lines correspond to those and lets face it, there really is no water here. And then there´s the astronomy angle, but you really need a good imagination to see the relationship between say, the monkey and Orion. And then there´s the possibility that they were used to carry out religious ceremonies which is perfectly plausable I guess as the lines are wide enough to walk along. But to my mind it´s obvious- It´s a big bloody alien landing site and they´re already here so we might as well just get used to it.

'Spaceman on the left' screams our trusty pilot and throws the little Cesna into a bank of nearly 90 degrees so we on the left side on the plane can get a look at the lines which indeed resemble a spaceman (though it's aparently a man with an owls head- make of that what you will). And so it goes on for the next 40 minutes. I made the mistake of looking at my camera at one point and nearly threw up as sudden motion sickness overcame me. I wasn't alone though as it took the best part of the day for Michelle to overcome hers.

Our chariot for the morning

A spaceman or just a ordinary man with an owl for a head

- you decide...

Some slightly bigger lines for you

And what a day it was. After leaving the hotel, we rode up to Huacachina a couple of hours north and took a sand buggy tour of the dunes and that was just bloody brilliant! Our driver was fantastic, taking us up over blind summits and then dropping us down into the next valley, all the while we were shrieking with delight. As the buggy had no windscreen, our gums got covered in sand because we were grinning so much. The dunes were just beautiful but I'd rather tear around them like a total hooligan anyday.

And then our driver got out the sandboards... Now I've ski'd most of my life but have so far never tried snowboarding. Strapping the board on at the top of a rather large dune, I slowly eased myself over the edge and promptly fell on my arse. And so it went on for the next few attempts but by about the 4th attempt, I'd made it all the way to the bottom without falling, a born natural. Now I've just got to master a few turns! The driver cautiously let me drive the buggy for a bit which was brilliant fun and I didn´t even roll it.

Silver surfer (I´m not actually going anywhere here)

Easy there, steady now...

Driving this was a blast!

2007-02-04T03:24:00.000Z

Cusco & Machu Picchu
21/1/07-29/01/07

It doesn't really help that I lost and eventually found my diary while in Cusco so you'll need to bear with me. Anyhow, we didn't really do a whole lot in Cusco other than take a couple of Spanish lessons, catch up on internet stuff and carry out the oil change I'd been meaning to to since I bought some oil in Valpariso. I actually carried that bloody oil all the way accross Bolivia for no particular reason, what a numpty!

We were holed up in Casa Grande, a nice central hostal with a courtyard and bike parking, where the staff were more than accommodating with our bike-based mechanical nonsence. We visited the Norton Rats pub on the square which boasts 'real ale' on tap however I was a little dissapointed as the IPA was off the whole time I was there but somehow I beat Michelle at pool three times so I suppose the I suppose Old Speckled Hen must have been ok.

Leaving the KLR at the garage (yet another blocked carb) we rode up to Ollytaytambo via a pleasantly green valley, somehow getting a nice cheep hostal on arrival. They claimed bike parking but in actual fact this involved getting poor Bertie to do a few yoga moves and getting down a few stairs though he got his own back by flattening a bed of their flowers in the process.
The next morning, we took the train up to Aguas Callientes and then the bus up to Machu Picchu. Its an expensive business this travelling lark. The bus snakes up the side of Machu P and you finally arrive at the entry point when you then have to shell out another 120soles (about 20 quid) to actually get in.

As expected, there was an awful lot of tourists about which affects the impact a bit but it was an awesome sight nonetheless. We spent the best part of the day wandering around the site and managed to check out the Inca Bridge but the walk to Huayna Picchu was closed by the time we got to it.

MP does strange things to people!

We'd timed our arrival back at Cusco with a night booked at the Hotel Monasterio, a leaving gift from Michelle's work. This place is probably the most expensive hotel in Cusco costing $500 a night so we were glad we weren't paying! A Snickers bar from the minibar would set you back $4 if you were so tempted. The deal included a 3 course meal so after a soak in the first bath in about 3 months, we scrubbed up as best we could in our oxygen enriched room and joined the rest of Cusco's high society for dinner.

A little bit of $500-a-night luxury

The following day, we sloped back to Casa Grande where we'd left our bikes ($500 a night doesn't acually buy you bike parking) and stayed another night. While the posh hotel was great, it was a little stuffy and it was nice to be welcomed back to Casa Grande, where the staff couldn't believe how much our fancy hotel had cost.

2007-01-24T20:51:00.000Z

Peru and the famous knitting men

After the dodgy Bolivian crossing, we go to the other side and over to the Peruvian border. This one is in the middle of a busy town though and for the first time, we are a little worried about the bikes while we´re in dealing with the paperwork thanks to the number of touts and twats in the vicinity. I´m glad I took Matt Cartney´s advice and bought a cheep alarm as it gives me some peace of mind when I´m away from my bike.

The proceedures take a lot longer than we´re used to however this time, we manage to successfuly get the bikes paperwork sorted out. We plan to get to Puno by Lake Titticaca, tonight but thats clearly not going to happen and we only make it to a town called Juli at nightfall. We get to Puno the following morning and get checked into a hotel (Don Julio)which involves several narrow planks to get the bikes up a few steps and into the hotel lobby.

From here we take a boat trip over to Isle Taquile where there are no roads or vehicles and the locals rarely marry outside their island. The men wear coloured knitted hats a bit like nightcaps that they knit themselves, red indicating a man is married while red and white indicate single status. Other colours imply a mans social status such as a senior figure while the women seem to spin wool all day long. We take a local boat owned by the islanders, rather than the tour companies which ply for business at the port (Michelle is good at reading about stuff like this, I would have just plopped myself on the first boat I found). We have also left the bikes at the hotel as we will spend a night on the island and return to Puno the following day. The boat takes around 4 hours to get to the lsland and we meet Elissio, our native guide. We will be crashing at his pad tonight and we´ll be given dinner and breakfast for 25 Soles each.

Enroute, the boat stops at one of the Uros Islands, these are the floating reed islands that the Uros people have lived on for hundreds of years. They make tacky trinkets for selling and reed boats while living off fish and tourists. We are only on the island for about 20 minutes which is long enough for me and to spot a tv inside one of the reed huts.

After about 4 hours, we arrive on Isle Taquile. While climbing an incredibly steep path which leads up to the square, Elissio explains to us and another couple who are also staying, that the island is split into 6 areas and that the crops are rotated on an anual basis, mainly potatos and maize. There are around 1500 inhabitants on the island and I´d guess at maybe 300 dwellings. Each property has land used for growing crops however that doesn´t make them totally self sufficient and to this end, this is where the knitting comes in. The islanders produce various knitted products like hats, belts and clothing that are sold to tourists and presumably exported which pays for things like sugar and cable tv. The kids have a trade of their own and while the tourist boats are only on the island between 12 and 2pm, they strut their stuff in the square selling little friendship bracelets and pose for tourist photos wearing their traditional dress and generally holding lambs, all for ´una sole´.

As you walk about the island, the kids pop up from nowhere behind stone walls and whisper (they all whisper here, there´s nothing to compete with) ´photo, photo, una sole´. Its a beautiful island and the people all seem to walk about smiling, maybe they know something we don´t? We have dinner with the other 3 guests and its off to bed in our candle-lit room where I have to duck to avoid the low timber beams. The toilet like all those on the island requires to be flushed with a scoop of rainwater from a barrel. There´s a great little beach we walk to the following morning at the far end of the island but the water´s too cold for a dip. We eventually arrive back at the square at about 12.30pm only to find our quiet, peaceful island overrun with noisy tourists.

2007-01-24T19:45:00.000Z

La Paz and the ´Road of Death´ Woooo!

We arrived in La Paz at nightfall though we had taken the sensible precaution of booking a hotel with parking before we left Potosi. Coming into the city, we were greated with a roadblock of a procession with people dancing around in costume and about 20,000 minibusses. We got round this lot, as well as the usual dead dogs with varying degrees of fatal injuries, and into La Paz. I was a little nervous of being here as I remember reading about various kidnappings that had occured in the recent past involving these minibusses, however we eventually found our way to the centre after asking some of the very helpful minibus drivers.

The hotel we´d booked was located within the touristy streets in the old part of town and involved several clutch burning moments thanks to the steepness of the hills. On arrival at the hotel, we went up the flight of stairs to an open courtyard where the hotel was situated and enquired where the parking was. we listened to the manager explain that we could park our bikes either in the courtyard or bizzarely (he opened a narrow door at this point) within the sauna. After slowly explaing to the idiot that there was no way on earth we would get the bikes up a flight of stairs let alone in the bloody sauna, we went back outside and bumped into A&K who it turned out, had a hotel with parking. 30 minutes later, we were parked up and unloaded in our hotel room.

We spent a couple of days floating around La Paz visiting the markets, buying alpaca gifts for relatives and I even bought a Charanga to satisfy my guitar urges. These are a little like a mandolin and I can fit it on the back of my bike. The guy who made it also gave lessons so I got myself an hours tuition to get the ball rolling.

A&k had moved on to Cocacabana but bumped into Ian from Summerset on a GS1200 traveling south and had directed him to our hotel so we enjoyed a couple of evenings with him. One was at ´Vienna´, a restaurant tipped as one of the best in La Paz. We turned up and were greated by waiters in full regalia, while the restaurant even had tablecloths and a piano player. The food was ok, nothing that great, but the piano player was the highlight. I´ve never heard such crap playing, my mate mark, who´s a very good jazz pianist would have been kicking her off like a shot!

Ian from Summerset on the GS 1200 Adv

We decided to tackle the famous Death Road to Corioco on our own bikes as the only other way is to take a $45 mountain bike tour. Its called the Death Road due to its precarious location, ie stuck on the side of some very steep mountains and due to the volume off traffic that used to fall off it. The government decided to clean up its act and build a new, slightly safer road and as of 3 or 4 months ago, the new road opened- it only took 15 years.

We checked out of our hotel as we planned to do the Death Road and be in Peru in time for tea. After bidding Ian fairwell (he´d done the road the day before and given me some very useful GPS waypoints), we set off out of town. Finding the very obscure turn-off to the old road (thanks to Ians waypoints), the road decended into the valley in a series of sharp, hairpin bends. The scary thing about the road is that there aren´t really any crash barriers as you´d expect a road of this nature to have and the steep drop to the side. However, when we went down it, it was very cloudy and visibility was limited so there were very few opportunities to cak oneself.

The so-called ´Road of Death´

- I just couldn´t see what the fuss was about

And as depicted by the brochures

(a slight Photoshop job I feel!)

Finding ourselves in Coroico at the end of the old road, we decide this is as good a place as any to hole up for the night as its quite a long way to Peru from here. The town has a pretty square and we find a decent bar run by a german who´s happy to dish out free drink as the boss is away.

The following morning, we don´t get a hot shower thanks to a power-cut affecting the whole town, we get on to the new road back to La Paz (unfortunately we can´t go round it). This road turns out to be a highlight and I´m soon in biker nirvana. It´s a clear day and the new road is just great, good tarmac, hairpins and generally stunning views- ace!

Somehow we get through La Paz with minimal pain and emerge on the other side. We head to Tiwanaku (?), an archialogical site of great improtance, the heart of the Inca empire- but it was shite and left early. We get to the border with Peru somewhat late in the day and find out Peru is 1 hour behind Bolivia. The Bolivian side is a bit of a worry as those Aduana things we didn´t get when entering Bolivia were actually the import documents for the bikes and we could be in real trouble. We roll up to a bit of a shack with the usual barrier across the road which is the border post. The official stamps our passports without any difficulty and then asks for a $10 bribe. Hang on, shouldn´t you have done that ´before´ stamping our passports? Anyway, he then lowers his request to 10 Bolivianos (about 60pence) all the while laughing with his mate at our ´no entiendo´s´. I show him both my empty wallets and explain that we got rid of all our Boliviano´s at that shit archelogical site which cleaned us out so no one would be getting any bribe money. And with that, he waved us on. Oh, and he forgot to arrest us for not getting the bikes signed in to his country. Phew!

2007-01-24T18:14:00.000Z

Potosi and the chain gang

After a few days in Uyuni where we enjoyed the delights of Minuteman Pizza on more times than I care to mention, we decided to head towards Potosi, the highest city in the world at 4100m. A&K had somehow booked a train to take their bike to Orruro rather than take the road to Potosi as basically, it had been relentlessly raining gatos and perros for several days now. So it was with some trepidation that we set off on the by now very muddy road to Potosi. And we got a mile away before Michelle´s chain decided to cause a few problems. It was making clanking and grinding noises so it was back to check in to the hostal again. It turned out the chain is reaching the end of its life and had a bit of a tight spot and we´d adjusted it on the loose section. We set it up the best we could without it falling off and prepared for leaving the following morning.

We eventually managed to get away about 11 the following morning, but not before another quick visit to Minuteman (did I say Minuteman does great breakfasts too?) and got onto the stretch of mud that is the road to Potosi. After a bit of slipping and sliding on the first section, the road seemed to dry up on the hill and apart from a few more muddy sections and a couple of easy river crossings, the road was actually very enjoyable all the way to Potosi. We started feeling a little ´Che´ driving through the beautiful landscape, though some kids who shouted ´gringo´and kicked a football at our bikes when we went through a village soon put paid to that.

Yet another ´hardcore´river crossing

The ´road´ to Potosi

We eventually made it to Potosi about 6.30pm and found the hotel with parking we´d been told about, Victoria Maria. The ´parking´ meant getting the bikes into a lobby and down a few external steps to a yard at the rear where they were building an extension- well, at least it was secure.

"The gas you that are smelling is arsenic" said our guide, as we covered our mouths with our clothing and tried not to gag. Today, we have decided to visit the famous mine at Cero Rico, deep within the conical shaped mountain that dominates the towns skyline. The mine started as a result of a silver-rush in the 1500´s, apparently a llama herder watched in wonder as silver ran out from beneath his fire when he was caught out on the mountian one night- or so the story goes. Anyway, that event started a rush and the town was born around the mine which became the richest silver producer in the world at that time and the spanish took over during the colonal times.

Over three centuries, it is estimated that around 8 or 9 million (depending on your source) people died working in this mine. Then came a slump in the production as the silver supply dried up and the town went into a decline. The mine is still operational though and produces tin and zinc amongst several other minerals although a slump in the tin price in the mid 1980s meant that the mine was to be closed. The miners to this day run the mine as a co-operative and effectively own the mine themselves. There are apparently around 14000 miners working in Cero Rico where a miner can start at the ripe old age of about 14, pushing 1 tonne trolleys around for around 50 Bolivianos a day (about 3 GBPs a day if you´re interested) and after say 5 years of that, you can become an co-owner, but for that you need quite a bit of cash to help buy equipment as the government doesn´t provide any. There are no lights in the tunnels either other than the weak yellow beams coming from the miners helmets. Air is pumped in under compression, however at this altitude, its still very hard to breathe.

As a stupid tourist, we can help by coming on these tours as they are led by people who have family connections in the mine (our guide´s father died in it 11 years ago) and a percentage of the money from the tours goes to support the miners. Before entering the mine, we are also taken to the miners market where you are requested to buy gifts for the miners such as coco leaves, fizzy drinks and obviously, dynamite and 95% proof alcohol. You are then take to get your miners outfit. If, like me and you have size 12 feet, you might be out of luck. I found a largish pair of wellies to complement my yellow waterproof jacket and trousers but found out later that they had holes in the soles, nice for walking around in deep mud puddles then. You are also given a miners helmet and light with a heavy battery pack tied to your waist with what looked like a bicycle inner tube.

Guess who´s been to the dynamite shop!

The guide then leads you into the mine, where the first section is very wet and muddy (great) though it starts to dry up the deeper you go. We pass through tunnels that are supported by wooded beams, the majority of which seems to be broked in half. While we are in the tunnels, you will often hear the shout of ´rapido´coming from around the corner. At this point, you as a stupid tourist, will have about 3 seconds to get off the track, leap out the way and secure yourself to the wall while about 4 miners race past you with a trolly weighing nearly a tonne. If they slow down, its because its time to either hand over your ´gift´like coca leaves, or have them grabbed off you as they go past.

A REAL job!

Crawling through the tunnels is actually pretty hard work for a tourist(though not a patch on what the miners have to do) especially if you´re tall. We´re only in here for a couple of hours, but in the good old days, the colonial slaves would be in here for at least a week at a time. We were also taken to meet the Devil, an effigy where the miners leave offerings of coca leaves, cigarettes and that 95% proof stuff as I doubt anyone else would (or could) drink it without going blind.

A rather ´excited´ little Devil

The average life span of a miner is around 45 years old, and its not surprising given the main cause of death is silicosis (you can see the fibres sticking out from the stone) while arsenic gas can´t be too great for them either. All in all, it was an incredibly humbling experience but we were relieved to be out of there. I take my helmet off to these guys as they have such a hard life down there and I promise I will never moan about having a tough day at the office again!

2007-01-24T17:43:00.000Z

Salar de Uyuni

After arriving in Uyuni, which was originally set up around the junction of the railways from Chile and Argentina during the mining boom, we eventually found a place with secure-ish parking for the bikes at Hostal Marith for 25BS each. The follwing day, we went on a jeep tour of the Salar De Uyuni, largest salt lake in the world. After finding out that it was going to be partly underwater, there was no danger we were going to take our bikes out on that. The jeep picked us up from our hostal and we were first taken to the train graveyard, a collection of rusting old steam trains on the the outskirts of town. Not that exciting and there wern´t even any numbers for me to record in my spotters book.

An old chuff chuff

ollowing that, we were dragged into a village where they make things out of salt and you as a tourist are meant to buy salty-based stuff so I bought a hakki sak. The jeep then headed into the Salar, first stopping on the dry salt with the driver explaining in spanish a bit about the Salar. Thankfully Andreas speaks good spanish so at least we could get a translation. The jeep briefely stopped at the old salt hotel, which is no longer in use due to, well basically they were pumping guests sewage on to the salar so it was shut down. Then we headed out into Salar towards the Isle de Pescar, so called because it marginally appears like a fish when reflected on the horizon though its covered in cactii so maybe Cactus Island might have been more appropriate. The island first appears as a dot on the horizon and the driver tells us that its 80kms away. We looked at that dot grow bigger for a long time. The views were amazing though, as the salt was only under about 2" of water, its like a mirror of the sky so you feel like you´re actually flying through it. Once in the island, we were given (well I thought it was) a fairly foul lunch of cold llama steak and rice, after which we were free to wander the island, which contains a 1203 year old cactus. Its about 12m high so I guess they grow at 1cm per year then...

Salar de Uyuni fun

2007-01-19T00:08:00.000Z

Bolivia, Bolivia, have ye any roads?

Last night we filled up the bikes and the spare 10L plastic canisters I'd bought in anticipation of the lack of fuel during the first stretch of Bolivia. Naturally the spare cannisters turned out not to be exactly fuel-proof and started leaking over my back seat. This meant we had to carry them inside our panniers which required a bit of reorganising the luggage to fit them in. We had planned to get away sharp the next morning however my bike decided to throw a fuel leak of its own and meant I had to quickly pull off my luggage and the tank. It turned out to be coming from the tank's overflow but there was nothing I could really do so we just got packed up and left SPDA. We took the road heading towards the Bolivian border and got to the turn off which was a dirt track. We stopped for some photos and to re-check the luggage when we noticed a rather large oil leak coming from Michelles KLR. After a quick look, we found the source of the problem. As we were putting the bike back together in the dark last night, we must have forgotten to tighten the cam chain tensioner and oil was now pouring out-oops. So much for that early start then.

After very little Zen and the second bit of Motorcycle Maintenance that morning, we resumed our route towards the border which turned out to be a few buildings in the middle of nowhere. All the jeep tours stop here and after bumping into our dutch friends from the hostel again and getting our passports stamped, we were now in Bolivia! The border guard mentioned something about an aduana, whatever that is and a fee for the national park which we had to cross to go north. The first stop was Lagua Verde, a lake in the south of the park. We set off on the track around the south of the lake which is when I started to feel the effects of altitude sickness, something I had heard would be a problem but hadn´t experienced to date. I had stomach cramps, headache and nausia in addition to being out of breath. We made it round the lake which was a rather stunning green as the name suggests and back to the park office. Michelle mentioned my ailments to a guard who gave us a bag of coca leaves which seemed to help when chewed though its a bit of an aquired taste.

The ride north, once we'd actually found the right track, was quite stunning. We rode through huge wide valleys, up and down hills and past lagunas filled with pink flamingoes though the bastards never sit still long enough for me to get a decent photo of them. The weather was interesting too, as lightening storms were clearly visible in the distance although somehow we managed to stay dry. Later in the day, we were coming down a hillside where we could see Lago Colorado, a place where were had been told we could camp by the german couple we'd met who'd been all over Bolivia.

At the bottom of the hill, the track split up in to dozens of tracks and ran westwards along the southern side of the lake. We were heading for the west side of the lake which was quite some distance away and the tracks were proving to be harder than we thought, we were only managing 10mph in first with both feet on the ground. Michelle´s bike went over a few times but luckily nothing too serious, it was just really hard work as our bikes are just so heavy. Deep sand and gravel tracks were the order of the day, which have been carved by the tour jeeps, though there is no particular route, they just criss-cross over a huge area. Bolivia, it should be rememberd, has approximately only 5% paved roads. Somehow, about 8pm, we made it to where the jeeps were heading, a ramshackle collection of single storey buildings on the west side of the lake and lo and behold, we bumped into Andreas and Kristina, our German pals on the Africa Twin. There was a huge sense of relief when we discovered there was a hostal of sorts and we could share their dorm. The place was run by a group of women all dressed in the traditional Bolivian outfit of colourful fabrics and for reasons only known to them, bowler hats several sizes too small. It turned out that dinner was included, so rather than having to get our stove out, we were presented with tasty soup and spag bol- landing on our feet again!

That night though, I found I woke around 2 or 3am with the feeling that I was suffocating. I felt I could hardly breathe and it turned out I wasn´t alone. Andreas was also suffering altitude sickness but after a couple of strong American painkillers, I managed to get back to sleep.

The following day, after a quite frankly poor breakfast of powdered nescafe and dry bread, the four of us set off for Villa Arica, a small town about halfway to Uyuni. And it took 2.5hours to cover just 24 miles as we could only travel in first gear with both feet on the ground. Christ it was hard work as it was our favorite mix of deep sand and gravel and for the first time, I saw Andreas drop his bike, something that anoyingly doesn´t happen as often as we drop ours! The scenery was great again though and we stopped fro lunch by a remote rocky outcrop which turned out to be covered in loo roll as the jeeps seem to stop here for breaks. We asked one of the drivers the route which seemed to correspond to track on my GPS so we headed onwards.

At some point in the afternoon, it started to sleat and hail so I stopped to pull out my thermal jacket lining and winter gloves but got soaked in the process as there was no shelter anywhere. My tee-shirt got wet as did my jacket and lining while my hands became so cold I couldn´t do up my helmet strap. Cold and wet, I proceeded to follow the track. I won´t bore you with the details but this was the second time in my life I´ve come close to getting hypothermia on a bike. The last time was when me and my mate James took an ill-prepared trip up the Alps and our non-waterproof gear got totally soaked at 2500m. This time, we had rain, sleat, hail, thunder and rather close fork lightening at 4700m- turned out nice again eh?

At the top of one of the hills, I was shivering waiting for Michelle who was behind me when a jeep full of warm tourists stopped next to me. The tourists jumped out and started taking photos of me and giving me the thumbs up. One was standing in front of me when Michelle caught up so I just revved the bike and rode straight at him and he had to jump out the way. I wasn´t really in the mood you understand.

Somehow, the track eventually ran alongside the ´main road´which we had to cross a gap in a dilapidated stone wall to get to. It was pretty good compacted gravel and the sign said only 25kms to Villa Alota- I was off like a shot. I somehow managed to get there about 20 minutes before the others and got some accommodation sorted out with a much needed hot shower.

The next moring, I found out the old woman who ran the hostal had some gas (sorry, I´m starting to sound American) for sale. So my morning started with a quick suck on a clear plastic pipe to syphon 15L of questionable quality fuel from one dirty container to a couple of smaller dirty containers. We paid 25BS per 5 Litres each, a bit higher than the gas stations but then there aren´t too many of those to choose from up here. So after a bit of breakfast at the hostal, we headed off for a fairly uneventful, if somewhat corregated ride to Uyuni.

2007-01-05T19:39:00.000Z

Party like its 2007
San Pedro de Atacama
31.12.06-05.01.07
We arrived in SPDA (as I like to call it) on New Years eve and checked into a hostel. This town is a base for the many tour companies entering Bolivia and going up to the Sala de Uyuni. Its a small town with about 5,000 inhabitants with narrow dirt streets with dozens of resaurants, tour companies and tourist shops. Like all these places, there is a square with a nice little church though this one is lined with pepper trees, so something to go with the salt lakes then.

All the restaurants were doing a set meal for New Years eve so we booked up at one but it was so warm in there we ended up back at the hostel before midnight which we toasted with one or our bottles of pisco sour. We did however wander into the streets to watch the locals,all dressed up in their sunday best, setting fire to effigies of what looked like back packers on street corners.

On New Years day, we booked up a 4 day jeep tour to the Uyuni salt lake and then rode south to Laguna Miscanti, which sits at about 4,200m. On the way, the corrugations on the dirt road vibrated Michelle's chain off so we had to spend a bit of time sorting that out though I was a bit surprised none of the busses going passed had stopped to ask if she needed any help before I found her. I had seen an overland bike and a landrover parked by a canyon before I turned back to look for Michelle but by the time we came passed again, they had set off. I caught up with the biker as the landy was driving a bit slower and we stopped to chat. The biker turned out to be Martina, a german woman who Michelle had emailed months ago about buying her DR650, a small world indeed. She has beed travelling around the Americas for the last 5 years, while her boyfriend in the landy was half german, half scottish and had been travelling around the world for the last 9 years, the first 4 on a bike and the rest in the landy which was kitted out to sleep in. As I previously mentioned, plans can change on a daily basis while travelling, as we looked at the grimaces on their faces after telling them of our plan to do a jeep tour of the Uyuni, we knew that we would be changing our plan. I was buzzing with enthusiasm after speaking with these guys as they had so much good information and were so positive about doing it, we pretty much had no choice.

Martina (DR650) and her boyfriend (Landrover)

The next couple of days were spent doing some bike maintenance. I got round to replacing my fork seals while we did Michelle's valve clearances. That turned out to be not so simple as it needed smaller shims, which aren't too available in these parts. We ended up geeting the old ones ground down in Calama and worked till 11pm getting the KLR put back together. There was a big cheer from our new dutch friends at the hostel as it fired up first time and sounded great. We finished so late that we will put off heading into bolivia until saturday and will spend a day just catching up on diarys and laundry as I expect it will be some time till we see one again.

2007-01-05T19:38:00.000Z

What's for Desert?
28.12.06-30.12.06

We were now pretty much in the the Atacama desert, the dryest place on earth where there are places where there have been no recorded rainfall. That´s dry. It's also strange that this is also by the sea but there you have it. We were warned that there wouldn't be an abundance of fuel stops on the way north so I got myself a 5L water bottle to carry a bit more gas. I think this is how it's going to be for the next good while, although it will be a lot worse in Bolivia. The first day ended in Bahia Inglasia at a rather expensive campsite. The scenery on the way hadn't been too exiting really however the next day as we headed towards Charal and into the Pan de Azur national park area, it was just great. The road runs between the mountains and the sea and the rock formations are just amazing. The white sandy beaches stretch on for miles so we decided to stop on one for lunch. It was totally deserted though the water was just a little too cold to go in past the 'Ohh zone'. Somehow, no one was around to collect the entrance fee at the national part, something of a rarity for Chile so we went on until we found a campsite. It cost 5,000pesos but that didn't stop them trying to charge 7,000. In the end, having a cold shower turned out to cost me 500pesos. I believe its quite different for the locals though as they are encouraged to go to the parks. We saw this in Argentina too where we had to pay 15GBPs whereas the locals were charged 3GBPs. Trust me, its just the same with empanandas too.

Yeah, not too bad

After the national park, the road turned inland and for the next 500kms or so, we had rather dull desert scenery to look at. We did see the 'big hand' just before the shithole that is Antogafasta and took the obligatory photos. I'm not too sure it was altogether necessary for someone to spray red graffitti on it though.

We passed a couple of dogs on the road, one of which was spaniel, and both looked in good health. The trouble was, there was nothing and no one around for miles and we assumed that someone had recently dumped them there. I've had spaniels for the last 20 years so that made me feel pretty sad as there was not a lot we could do

2007-01-05T19:37:00.000Z

Starry night in Vicuna
27.12.06-28.12.06
Taking the road east of La Serena, we followed the road through the Elqui valley where the big crop there is the Pisco grapes for the pisco sour, something I am getting a bit of a taste for. We set up camp on the outskirts of town at campsite with wonder of wonders, a swimming pool. We had just ordered lunch in the square when this guy in a stained shirt and tie carrying a briefcase came over and started talking to me about the bikes. It turned out he had a bike and had done some trip to Brazil but now had bambinos, something Michelle and I get asked about quite a lot here. Anyway, this was all well and good but he was getting a bit irritating and I smiled and said 'ok, ciao'. Our food had arrived by this point and normally, most people would see this as a good time to leave. Not this guy though. He got out photos of his kids and then plopped his briefcase down on our table and actually got out a bible. He seemed to be asking us to stay at his place for free. Er, no thanks mate.

The main moon

That night, we had booked our selves on a trip to the Mamalluca Observatory which has been specifically built for the general public. This area has some of the clearest night skys in the world thanks to no light pollution, high altitiude and cloudless skys. We boarded the minibus about 10.30pm for the 20 minute ride up to the observatory. There were maybe 20 or so people in this group but once we arrived at the observatory, the car park was alive with hundreds of people, magic. We were herded towards a observatory building and were waiting in line for abour 30minutes when there was some movement in the line. When we got to the front, it turned out that this was the spanish-only session, well thanks for telling us. We ended up in a group of english speaking folk, including an incredibly loud, posh english couple who appeared to know everything about everything. Our guide eventually arrived and got some order going. Before entering the observatory, we were first taken to a 30cm telescope outside around which this chap gave us a look at the moon which was very bright. This is a bad thing as it makes the rest of the sky quite difficult to see. Anyway, this guy was brillient there wasn't much he didn't know about the night sky. It was facinating listening to him and hearing about old and new stars, supernovae, constellations, meteors and planets. We even saw Saturn including its rings through this telescope, amazing. Looking at what appears to be say one star in the Southern Cross with the telescope, it suddenly became clear that there were hundreds of stars there, you just can't see them with the naked eye. Throughout the evening, the constellations moved slowly accross the sky revealing new ones as they came over the top of the mountains. We got back to the campsite at qbout 2am after a fantastic night.

2007-01-05T19:36:00.000Z

La Serena, Xmas on the beach
24.12.06-27.12.06
We arrived in La Serena, a town set back from the sea but with a bit of a strip along the front and following Colin and Gills fine example, we decided we were going to treat ourselves to a hotel room. We ended up in Marserena, with a pool and balcony where we could watch the sunsets for a few days over Xmas.

The Wickerman? Here? In La Serena?

We had a little kitchenette in the room so we stocked up on some good food and a lot of booze to see us through the festive period. This was my first 'warm' Xmas and although it felt odd playing frisbee on the beach on Xmas, it was also most enjoyable. We had a few days relaxing doing not very much and although it sounds hard to believe, it felt like being on holiday.

Happy Christmas!

I used the time to tinker with the bike and having had no luck in getting someone to look at it in Mendoza, I decided to have a crack at doing valve clearences for the first time. Following my vague BMW manual, I acually managed to do it and found it relatively easy. One of our mottos on this trip is if something sounds hard or might be difficult, our normal approach at home might be to give it a miss or get someone else to do it. Well here that dosen't realy work as sometimes there isn't someone to do things for you and you have no choice but to do it yourself which is really no bad thing. The BM is actually quite easy to work on as we found out later doing Michelles clearences but it still doesn't excuse the expensive parts though. However, on leaving La Serena, I found I had a pretty hefty oil leak but after removing the cylinder head by the roadside, I found it was just a missaligned seal and after about 30 minutes, I had it sorted and back to normal. Got a few strange looks from the locals though.

2007-01-05T19:33:00.000Z

Valpariso
20/12/06-23/12/06
The scenery decides to change once again and now in Chile, the landscape is almost totally cultivated with fruit and vegetables as far as the eye can see. Deciding that the main road was just a little too busy, we took the turn off to Concon to take the coast road for a bit of a change of scenery. And with an early stop in Valpariso in our sights, thats when michelle's KLR decided to break in half... It transpired that one of the subframe bolts from her 'overweight-solutions' add-on kit had dissapeared and the remaining poor bolt had no choice but to shear off. Luckily it happened while we were travelling slowly on a much quieter road and Michelle was able just to pull over when the back end subsided by several inches. We managed to piece the KLR back together temporarily and thanks to a guy working in a house nearby who took the removed luggage in his van, we followed him to a friend of his who just happened to be a welder. Even though it was approaching siesta time and it was a baking hot, they managed to remove the sheared bolt and re-weld the tank mount in a couple of hours all for 3GBPs. So with many 'muchos gracias's' all round, we resumed our coastal route to Valpariso. This area is so much like the 'costa del sol' or the south of France it hurts. The coast is just teaming with developments, high rises and holiday appartments from Vina del Mar to Valpariso that it's very hard to see where one town ends and the other begins.

Obviously a popular man then

We made it into Valpariso and after a quick visit to the tourist office in the 'mugger friendly' area of town, I managed to find a decent hotel up the hill in the old part of town. The hotel doesn't have moto parking so we have to use the underground carpark but thats ok, we're please to be in a decent place and the view from the kitchen on the top floor just has to be seen to be believed. This whole area is built on a steeply sloping hillside and all the multicoloured houses are so tightly packed that it seems a miracle that the whole lot doesn't come sliding down the hillside. To get around here, there are a load of old ascentors or funiculars, in addition to the plethora of hidden stairways that snake between the houses. We had a very enjoyable evening wandering aound this area, taking way too many photographs as the place is just so photogenic. After being warned not to walk in the area around the bus station at night, I felt slightly apprehensive about the town however we had absolutely no problem here at all. The views from up here are just great at night, and as well as being able to watch the comings and goings in the plazas down below, we could see right along the coast.

Valpariso by night

The following day, we took the bus to Santiago which is only about 1.5hours away. Normally, when you arrive in a new city, its a good idea to go to the tourist office to pick up a free map and find out what there is to see. After we'd arrived at the bus station, we tried the information desk but to no avail, they had no maps. We carried on walking toward the downtown area, along a wide street which seemed to have nothing but tool shops, impressive though they were. We did end up with a rather good meal though in a restaurant within the very lively old fish market where you are pestered by all the restaurant doormen to within an inch of your patience.

We also got a bit of art culture, not because we needed any but because we both needed the loo. Finally, we wandered through a pretty nice park surrounding an old castle which required you to sign in with your national ID number. As I naturally didn't have one of those, a made-up number seemed to satisfy the security guard.

Back in Valpariso the following day, we treked up the hill to the poet, Neruda's house. I didn't know anything about this guy, much to michelle's amazement but he really sounded a bit of a character and I loved his poem about the building of his house. The place is built on about three levels with incredible views over Valpariso from just about every room. I particularly liked the bar (where only Neruda himself was allowed to make the cocktails) and the plan for the hellipad on the roof which was intended as a launchpad to the heavens. Kind of makes you wonder what kind of cocktails he was making.

While we were getting some lunch there, we got talking to an English couple who lived in Canada and were doing a 6 month tour of South America. They were staying in Vina del Mar near Valpariso and as it was Xmas, they had treated themselves to a decent place to stay with a balcony on the sea front, a great idea. Our original plan that day was to try and do some Xmas shopping, but one of the great things about travelling is your plans change on a daily basis. They invited us back to check out their fancy pad which was on the 9th floor of an appartment block facing the beach. We were going to go to the big mall from there to do our shopping but Colin and Gill invited us to stay for lunch. Colin and I went for a wander along the beach while the girls sorted out lunch. We were then treated to a fantastic dinner on their balcony and plied with wine and Pisco Sour, it really doesn't get much better than this!

Our hosts for the day- Colin & Gill.

Thanks guys!

2006-12-31T12:33:00.000Z

Mendoza- Getting high and Parties on the roundabout
16/12/06-19/12/06
So we wheel it in to Mendoza mid-afternoon, in good time to source some accommodation. Or so you'd think. We did try a hostel but the owner was out and no one knew what the price of a room was so we tried the camp sites. One was miles away so we though we'd try the municipal one slightly nearer town. As usual, it wasn't too easy to find so for the second time we ended up with a police escort to a campsite. I think the police quite like getting asked to do stuff like this. No sirens or lights though.

Mendoza is yet another large 'grid pattern' city of the type that holds little appeal for me however it does have a very attractive park and lake to the west. Our campsite is located just outside this but not exactly within walking distance of the city. Now Argentineans like their barbeques and I mean 'really' like them. When we arrived, we were about the only tent on the site however here they don't use these places in quite the same way we do at home. It's a place for quite literally all the family to gather, drink, get merry and watch dad do the asado. So when we returned to the site about 11pm that evening after a frankly awful meal in town, the site was alive with families and kids running all over the place, music and general fun and games. Not exactly the recipe for a good nights kip in a tent then. And it wasn't just our campsite that was popular. No, the park was also full of people while barbeques were getting set up on roadsides and even the roundabout outside the campsite for gawds sake. And even more bizarrely, just to add insult to injury, a wedding party arrived about midnight bleeping horns and having a jolly old time till 6am. Even my earplugs couldn't drown that lot out.

So the following day was a restful one to say the least. A bit of bike tinkering and general slouching around was required as we watched our thermometer hit 49degrees in the sun. Not the sort of temperatures to do anything much really.

One of the reasons I came to Mendoza was to find the BMW dealer here as my newly replaced fork seals which cost me 40GBPs had decided to give up on me after barely a week and apparently these BMWs need something called a 'service' every now and again. We rolled up to the impressively clean garage much like those in the UK, and proceeded to be told that they didn't have time to look at my bike. They didn't look particularly interested in it either and I didn't have the time to wait so I understood, but only very slightly, how Ted Simon must have felt after he rolled into LA expecting some sort of fanfare from the Triumph garage.

Q. Whats the difference between a BMW and a Kawasaki?
A. Well, a BMW oil filter costs 90pesos while a Kwak one costs 15pesos- go figure.

We also managed to fit in some swimming here. Well, that is after trying about 3 different pools, we finally found one that would have us and we had about the first real exercise of the whole trip (apart from walking and picking up the bike now and again that is).

We had planned cross the mighty Andes again, this time our goal was Valparaiso, a coastal town some 300 or so miles away in Chile. Setting off from the flatness that is Mendoza, we followed the road as it wound its way up into the hills. On our right near the summit was Mount Aconcagua sitting at 6960m which is high indeed. In fact, it is the highest mountain, not only in the Andes, but in both the southern and western hemispheres.

Aconcagua- It´s quite high

I wish I could say I was blown away with the scenery but I think it´s possibly because you are 'in' them rather than viewing from afar, they don't seem that huge. Anyway, the scenery was actually pretty great all the same and when we came across the turn off to the Cristo Redentor monument before the Chile border, I couldn't resist it. The monument sits on one of the peaks and as we had to take the tunnel to cross the range, it looked like our best shot at getting a 'view from the top' so after a bit of gentle persuading Michelle and I set off up the gravel track. The road quickly deteriorated into mush due to the amount of water running down the mountain and the hairpin bends got even hairier the higher we went. I got up as high as 3600m or so when the road became totally blocked with snow and we had no choice but to start back downwards- but not before a bit of a snowball fight first though.

The end of the road at only 3600m, damm it!

Due to all this mucking about, as you may have already guessed, we didn't make Valparaiso by nightfall but got as far as a campsite near San Felipe around 8pm which seemed like a sensible time to stop for the night.

2006-12-31T12:04:00.000Z

Gary Glitter, Chav Mahal and San Rafael

Monday 11/12/06- Saturday 16/12/06
I finally managed to get new fork seals fitted at Ctorq in Bariloche for 240pesos so we were able to leave Bariloche around midday. We took the route of the 7 lagos which was pretty nice, but once you've seen one lake...

Stopping briefly at San Martin de los Andes at another fairly non-descript campsite, our plan was to try and cover a decent few miles because we've been moving a tad slowly of late, Our plan was to make it to Chos Malal, basically somewhere on the map to stop. The scenery en-route was very reminiscent of westerns, total cowboy country in fact with several goucho's on horseback. As we were aiming to cover some distance, it was a listening to mp3s-on-shuffle day. Quite bizzare then riding through this landscape to hear 'what it is', that Mark Knopfler song about a Geordie night out in Newcastle.

Anyway, as usual when I have my earphones in, we got stopped at one of those rather pointless police checkpoints where they want to ask you where you're going and see your passports etc. Naturally I couldn't remember the name of the place we were going to but Chav Mahal seemed to cover it.

At the towns municipal campsite, we met the attendant who was incredibly efficient, though inevitably incredibly hard to get rid off. I noticed there had only been 5 other people staying there this month so I guess he was pleased to see somebody.

A fairly productive evening involved getting Michelle's spare tyre fitted and having a mini asado of our own with really tasty chicken. Michelle has a compact little folding grill which has been excellent and worth carrying as the meat here really is not too bad.

"I feel like chicken tonight"

Anyway, as we're munching away, this small boy on a bike shows up asking lots of questions but as usual, we do our 'no intiendo'. Not long after, a scruffy looking old guy with a slightly insane grin comes along with some keys. He's telling us something about the banos and we eventually work out he's some sort of night watchman so we're obviously in safe hands. He begins motioning at the bikes and is apparently suggesting we lock them together. I ask if there are likely to be any problems and his response sounds like 'yes, I'm your problem now', however he actually turns out to be fairly harmless although he does have a touch of 'gary glitter' about him when he is speaking to the small boy.

The following day, we were aiming to get to San Rafael however after a very tedious ride along some nasty stretches of gravel, we only make it as far as Malargue. On the way, Michelle's carbs flooded on a really remote road as we were taking some pictures and in the intense heat, it wasn't too funny however after what seemed a considerable while we got it running again. I think the scene must have amused the farmer who´s mud house we were photographing moments before.

It was an easy two hour ride to San Rafael the next day through quite a number of lovely vineyards. This whole area really is a major wine producing area so it woud be rude not to visit one or two wineries while we're here'. We got a pretty cheap room for 45pesos with cable tv and even a ceiling fan! We also found a local guy, Louis, to clean out Michelle´s carb and make a small screen to replace the last one that became ever so slightly 'detached' a few weeks ago. While hanging out at Louis's garage, a couple of local police popped in to say hello as they'd seen my bike outside. I initially bricked it as I tried to remember which one of my most recent traffic violations could have prompted this visit but it thankfully turned out to be a purely social one. One guy was in a car but the other was on a BMW650GS so he was keen to have a look at mine. I must say that the Police here really don't give their guys the best kit. He just wore a shirt with several radios and objects sticking out, light trousers with only boots for some protection and his open face helmet was all scuffed to bits. His scratched, matt black bike did look quite cool though and it even had ABS which was something.

We did visit one winery. It was actually started in the late 1800's by French guy who shipped over all this wine making equipment. San Rafael didn't really exist back then and once he's set up his wine production, he spread the word back home and invited a lot of his French pals over to do the same and the town started taking shape. After our very informative tour, we splashed out on a 1GBP bottle of vino blanco and headed off to the large park at the other end of town. We thought we´d get some empanandas on the way but failed to find a single place that had any so we carried on regardless. To say it was hot is an understatement and I was looking forward to finding a large fountain or something to cool off by. Unfortunately the park turned out to be a huge disappointment. Walking past the gypsy camp at one end, it reminded me of a school playing field that had been allowed to become overgrown for about 10 years, and there were just a little too many large ants for my liking so we decided to skip it. It´s a rather nice town actually but like most of these places, nothing really kicks off and gets busy until later in the day when it cools down. The streets then come alive with families and people with shops open well into the evening. We met a few north American guys how seemed to think this was the place. One guy has a plumb farm outside town which sounds like rather a nice existence to me.

We stayed a couple of days in San Rafael before heading on to Mendoza. On the way, we took a small detour via Tupungato that was supposed to give a great view of the Andes however the weather decided to mess with our plan and placed some rather large clouds over most of them.

2006-12-10T16:41:00.000Z

Break like the Wind

Friday 8/12/06 - Sunday 10/12/06
We had an easy ride to Bariloche, which is a bit of touristy town but pretty nice just the same. We found a great little hotel with double room, ensuite & breky for 50pesos a night so we were happy. After a walk around town we treated ourselves to some great coffee and cake and thus blowing any savings we'd made on the accommodation. We'd spotted a poster advertising tango lessons, so after a few good beers in a microbrewery, we turned up at the place in our best dancing gear, ie dirty cargoes and tee shirts. We were greeted by the teacher, Patricia, and were soon being shown the ropes. At first, we found it hard to stop laughing at our four left feet, but Patricia persisted and I had to dance with another lady who knew what she was doing while Michelle got a Harold Bishop look-a-like. Believe it ir not, by the end of the night, we could actually do the steps they'd shown us, ok, not perfectly, but we were pretty happy and had a great night too.Thankfully, there are no photos but we think we'll do it again somewhere else so by the end of the trip we could be tango'ing the night away.

On Saturday, we found out about a biker meet happening in town (which explained the hundreds of big bikes- doh!), so as we'd not seen any bike bigger than a our own for a very long time, we had to go along. We followed the parade round the local circuit here (Circuito Chico) which goes round the peninsula and although the views are pretty cool, some of the houses here are also prety cool, there's clearly some money in this town. The ride finished at the lake campsite about 16kms south of town where there was promise of beer and music. It really reminded me of a smaller version of the bikerfests I used to go to back home. It was hosted by the aptly named 'Wind Riders', who are I assume the local Hells Angels. They were a nice bunch though and there were games involving trying to knock over beer cans with tennis balls while riding past. And then the band came on. My god, they were bloody awful, but very entertaining to watch. A more tone-deaf singer I´ve yet to hear. More leather and studded wrist bands than Rob Halford could ever shake a stick at.

"Let there be sand!"

2006-12-10T16:40:00.000Z

A bad egg in Chile

Wednesday 6/12/06- Thursday 7/12/06
We parted company with A&K yesterday as they were going to try the thermal springs in La Junta so we headed on and camped at Puerto Piedra by the lake. Really nice setting as the lake is surrounded by steep mountains. There was even a camp fire and shelter. We met a bunch of Argentinian fishermen who had travelled 2000kms to fish but apeared not to have caught anything. Oh well. I really enjoyed listening to some Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young on my MP3 player at night and being able to look at the stars without the light pollution we are used to, so much so that I nearly fell asleep by the fire. Wine also helps though which we'd managed to buy off the lady who owned the place. She slightly spoiled the experience slightly the next morning by trying to charge us more than we'd agreed and not giving us the eggs she'd promised. Her loss a I guess.

Our campsite view

A short ride and another border crossing later, we were back in Argentina and stopped in Esquel. We found a nice little house for 50pesos all to ourselves where we got all our much-needed washing done. From Esquel, we rode on to El Bolson as Michelle needed a new rear tyre. I asked the mechanic there to look at my now very leaky fork seals but when he asked a teenager at his garage how long he thought it might take, I was out of there. I'll wait till I find someone who at least looks like they know what they're doing. Michelle got a Pirelli MT21 for 250pesos though, about half what I had to pay for my Pirelli in Puerto Madryn but they tried to charge 50 pesos to change it! Remember I got charged 5 pesos at a YPF garage so we´ll take it to one of those.

We stayed about 14kms outside El Bolson at a German family's house who let travellers stay. We had thought it was going to be free but we soon found out that they now charged due to the number of people that stayed. We got a nice little pitch by the river anyway and they even had a couple of great little lab puppies too so we couldn't complain!

Puppy power!!

2006-12-10T16:39:00.000Z

The Perfect Hosts

Monday 4/12/06- Tue 5/11/06
Being the hardcore travellers we are, we finally made it out of town by 3pm after doing a bit of internet/emails etc. We got caught in some shitty roadworks, we got fed up as the road had turned to gravel again and was killing our backs so we jumped onto the newly tarmac'd section. I came across a guy in a rather large road roller who actually swung his machine towards me in rage, this guy was livid. It was quite funny though but we got kicked off after that.

As it was pretty late, we needed to find somewhere to stop for the night and by another happy accident, came across a house which had some camping space and they did breakfast too- sorted. In the morning, we were treated to lovely home baked bread and really fresh eggs which tasted fantastic. I could have stayed in that kitchen all day. The owner was a really nice guy from Santiago who's up'd sticks and moved to the country with his wife. He'd built the house himself and although it had no electric power, save for a solar panel which charged a battery to power one light and a radio, it was one of the warmest and most homely places I've seen. He has a beautiful little 2 year old daughter who looked very cool in her floppy had and poncho. I even had to put on her shoes for her at breakfast which greatly amused Michelle.

The perfect hosts

We had a fabulous ride through the rainforest today, totally different scenery. The road climbs over a pass with incredibly tight hairpin bends that make the gps show the road like a mad squiggle. I enjoyed it so much that when I bottomed out my front forks on a deep pothole, I just didn't care, I'll get it sorted somewhere, somehow.

Rainforest, C. Austal style

2006-12-10T16:38:00.000Z

Red hands, twisty roads and fat, heavy bikes

Sunday 3/12/06
We took a look at some caves which had painted hands dating from around 10,000 years ago. The place was acually shut but we rode up the tricky narrow and steep track anyway and let ourselves in, with the GS naturally falling over at the top of the last hill. I'd read somewhere before that the natural position for a GS is on its side and this trip is certainly proving that.

A GS on it´s side, earlier today

The hands were pretty cool though, Kristina works in a kindergarten so we deduced that the hands were most likely done by the 10,000 year old kids as a school exercise, most likely some sort of detention I expect.

´You need hands...´

We also came across a dead forrest that had been covered in ash from a volcanic eruption, quite impressive really. Andreas and kristina stopped to chat to a German woman on a bike with cool gaucho chaps. She'd been at a protest nearby as Pinochet had sold off parts of the valley years ago to foreign hydro electric companies who now wanted to dam the valley to build a hydro plant. I hope they win as it really is a beautiful place.

The gravel road finally turned back into nice, smooth asphalt again after god knows how long. Michelle and I enjoyed ourselves racing each other up a mountain pass with hairpins and great, wide sweeping bends, fantastic.

Oh yeah...bring it on

We stopped off in Coyhaique and found a fantastic wooden cabanya, where Andreas, who's a bit of a chef in his spare time, knocked up a great evening meal.

2006-12-10T16:37:00.000Z

The Perfect Saturday Morning
Saturday 2/12/06
So what did you do on Saturday morning then? Me? Well we broke up camp and continued along this valley which, I'll be honest, was just gorgeous. There's just something about riding in lovely sunshine and beautiful, rustic surroundings that really appeals to me. There were grins all around, I can tell you, though I'm sure my photos won't do it justice.

All Saturday mornings should be this good

Once we finally made it off this track on to the 'main road', this turned out to be the famous Chilean Carretera Austral (southern highway) apparently commisioned by Gen Pinochett which stretches for over 1,000kms from Puerto Montt to Villa O'Higgins. The route takes in snowcapped mountains, volcanoes, ice age glaciers, fjiords, turquoise lakes and even one of the largest areas of temperate rainforest. We stopped off at Puerto Tranquilo for the night, even meeting a couple of fellow overland bikers who for the first time weren't German but were from New Zealand and California.

2006-12-10T16:35:00.000Z

Locusts, Imprisoned Armadillos and Good Roads

Thursday 30/11/06 - Friday 1/12/06

We headed off up Routa 40 again, but taking it easy thanks to the impressive side winds. The one notable thing about the road today was that it was infested with locusts. They just looked like leaves floating about behind the michelles rear wheel in front of me but on closer inspection, they were in fact locusts. Millions of them! They were jumping about all over the road and getting squashed under our tyres, I've really never seen anything quite like it.

We stopped for lunch by a deserted derelict building in the middle of nowhere as it provided some shelter from the wind. After we finished eating and had a wander about, we could hear a strange scratching noise coming from a oil drum which had a board weighed down by a heavy stone. Andreas and I took a look and lifted the makeshift cover and peered in. And peering back at us were 3 armadillos, one of which looked pretty dead. Thinking this was a tad cruel, I kicked over the barrel to let them out. One immediately ran away, the other stayed in digging about in the soil while the dead one turned out not to be dead but was barely alive. Michelle gave it some water which it seemed to lap up however it didn't look to great. We headed off and left them to their own devices, wondering who and why someone would lock up these creatures until they died.

It was a fairly dull ride as the landscape had resorted back to a bit of pampas again so the plan was just to cover some miles when we stopped to chat to a couple of large overland vehicles. You could be forgiven for assuming it is only Germans that do overlanding in Argentina however Andreas had a chat with them and we were told of a decent route over to Chile and the Carreterra Austral, where the scenery is supposed to be great and there is less wind - we were off. We stopped the night in a crossroads hotel called Bajo Caracoles which was quite literally the only place for miles around.

The next day, we headed off along Routa 39 to follow the route we'd been told about the previous day. We stopped off at Lago Posadas for a bit of lunch which was quite a pleasant little place. Realising we should have taken the turn off before Lago Posadas, we found what we thought would be a shortcut from the lake back over to the road we needed. As soon as we got on this track, and it was a track, it was the start of a tough but fantstic riding day of enduro riding consisting of steep rocky hill sections, narrow tracks and generally stunning scenery. Don't you just love it when a happy accident takes you off the beaten track. At one point, we came accross a gate which was locked, however realising that the fence to the side wasn't in great shape, we took a plank lying rearby, flattened the fence with it and rode over the plank.

Off-road kings and queens

Cool landscapes

We made the remote border crossing by late afternoon and after the usual formalities and a cute but lively small dog stealing michelles glove, we set off once more into Chile. As we were pretty knackered after the days riding and we were evidently not going to make it back to civilisation today, we found a pleasant spot in this beautiful valley by a stream to set up our camp.

2006-12-08T21:52:00.000Z

Well we´re now in Bariloche trying to sort out various bike 'issues'. Will try to do a proper blog update in the next day or so. Apologies for the random order of my photos, can´t seem to sort that!

Ciao

2006-11-29T23:10:00.000Z

Oh that fecking wind!

Tuesday 28th - Wednesday 29th November
At El Chalten, we'd met a nice German couple, Andreas and Kristina who are travelling on an Africa Twin so we have decided to travel together for a few days as we're going roughly the same route.

The Germans are coming- Andreas and Herr Bertie

We headed towards Perito Moreno but as Michelle and I had run out of cash and were running low on fuel, we decided to detour to Gobernador Gregores, which involved going along one of the crappest roads so far. That and the bloody incesant wind (still going as I write) just never let up making progress slow and at times dangerous having been blown into the gutter a few times myself. Having stocked up on cash, we intend to resume our route north to Perito Moreno tomorrow, winds permitting of course!

2006-11-29T23:07:00.000Z

Glaciers, Empanandas and Wind

Saturday 25th - Monday 27th November
We visited the Moreno Glacier today, it was simply breathtaking despite the number of tourists there. You can see it as you approach with its blue-ish tints and huge crevaces. We stayed for a couple of hours taking it all in and eventually headed off to El Chalten.

Morreno Glacier

Morreno Glacier, its rather large

The scenery was pretty cool, it started looking a little like a scene from a spaghetti western and eventually into something out of Lord of the Rings as the Fitzroy mountains loom in the distance all the way to El Chalten, growing ever larger as you approach. The road as usual, is pretty bad ripio but we eventually make it and find our way to the free campsite at the far end of the town. Its a very odd place as the town itself is very much like one of those western towns and you expect to see mothers dragging their kids inside and shutters being closed as you ride into town. The campsite is also pretty weird as there are loads of tents but no body there, some just wooden frames with sheets of plastic and others, older tents that appear to have been added to with, erm, more plastic sheets.

We had a great little trek up to Lago Capri the next day from which we got some fantastic views of Fitzroy itself.

´We like treking and we like to trek´

We were lucky though as the next day, the bloody wind just didn't stop so we just took a little walk round the town but had to abandon our plans for another trek as the weather looked like it was closing in, a great excuse to eat fresh empanandas in the tent and catch up on a bit of diary writing.

A bad case of wind

2006-11-29T23:03:00.000Z

Herr Bertie vs Larry the Lamb
Thursday 23th - Friday 24th November
Leaving for El Calefate today. It's quite annoying that you actually get a better view of the spectacular Torres del Paine mountains from outside the park. Again, doh.

We got hit for the same expensive food at the border back into Argentina again but this time we shared a burger to save money- well times is hard you know.

Getting on the infamous Routa 40 then, we encountered yet more crappy gravel to ride on. As some of you may know, these roads require a heck of a lot concentration to avoid running into the deep patches of gravel so a lot of the time, you don't really have time to take in the scenery or whats going on around you.

Just in front, a couple of sheep and a lamb have narrowly avoided being turned into asado fodder by a truck which had no intention of slowing down. But out of the corner of my eye, I see another lamb quickly running from the same side, obviously trying to catch up with its mum. I try slowing down gently but its running straight for me so I have to jam on the brakes which results in me and the bike hitting the deck rather swiftly. As I pick myself up off the ground, I see the pittiful sight of the wounded lamb, quite clearly in it's final moments.

What to do? I'd read that if the animal is clearly in pain, you should put a rock through its head and I briefly scanned the roadside for a suitable blunt instrument but fortunately, the lamb stopped moving. Michelle had also stopped and had come over so we looked at the poor creature with saddness but she was glad me and the bike were still in one piece when it started moving again. With heavy heart, I again thought I'd really better do something when it then stopped moving for good. It didn't make a sound during all this time so I'm guessing it wasn't really concious. But the worse thing was its mum standing staring at me from the field. I´m really very sorry mrs sheep!

For the next couple of days, we stayed in a hostel in El Calefate, a bit of a touristy town. We got some much needed bike maintenance done including a oil change and getting Michelles Scot-oiler to work, which it hadn't done since starting the trip.

2006-11-29T23:00:00.000Z

Park of Pain(e)

Wednesday 22th November
We're off to the Torres del Paine national park but caught out with a very expensive lunch at the Chile border. We also had to pay 15 GBP to get into the par- ouch, Chile is very expensive after being in Argentina and to make matters worse, the park office had run out of maps. There is a paying campsite for about 3.50GBPs but after all that, we planned to use the free campsite which is located at the far west of the park.

Bertie and Torres

Sweet

Oh for a proper zoom lens

So after taking a look at the waterfall and taking in some of the nice scenery, the road to the free site turned out to have some roadworks going on. When I say roadworks, at home this road would have been closed but here (after having to spend a fortune to get in remember) the road was basically soil with cars and busses sliding back down the hill with little or no control, entertaining to watch but not when you have to get two heavily laden bikes up this hill. After laughing at this for a bit, it was our turn. My new knobbly tyres turned out to quite enjoy this bit but my clutch has still to forgive me given the burning smell coming off it at the top of the hill.

A little bit slidey

This park is really big by the way so it took quite a while to get to the turn off we needed, and of course the weather decided it had been too dry and it started to piss it down and the gravel road got incredibly lumpy, not great riding conditions. Add to this we had then to walk for half an hour with our camping stuff once the road ran out and you'll get an idea of our moods at this point. Anyway, at least we got a chance to wear our ponchos for the first time and there was no one around to laugh.

After walking for an eternity (ok, about 35mins), we came across the area marked out for the free camping and lo and behold, there was what we would call a bothy at home and luxury of luxuries, a pit toilet. Boy, were we in for a treat tonight. We actually ended up setting our tent up inside the bothy and also cooking there so it turned out pretty well in the end and at least we got to stay dry, and all for just 15 pounds.

Our house witha tent inside

2006-11-29T22:59:00.000Z

Men with Drills

Tuesday 21th November
Awakening early, and pleased to find we hadn't been massacered in our sleepingbags, I set off on Michelle's bike into town with my rear wheel to get the tyre fitted by someone who actually knew what they were doing. Driving straight past SM Motos, I found a garage nearby with a rather bored looking man with way too many dogs who was evidently the tyre fitter guy. After a few of my best Pictionary moves, the man seemed to understand that this stupid gringo had tried and failed to fit this tyre and could he please sort his mess out which he duly did. Once he got started then I noticed that instead of seating the tyre on the outermost part of the wheel, he had it on the middle where there is a bit of a recess, and hence makes fitting the last part of the tyre a doddle- doh! after paying a whopping 5pesos (less than a pound) I returned to the campsite to find out from Michelle that we'd been charged 10 pesos for the pleasure of staying at the Jeepers Creepers Campsite, stuck my wheel on and get the hell out.

Tyre fun in the scary campsite

I got him to do the front one too and just when it was looking like we'd be leaving our beloved RG, guess what happened next? That's right, one of my front fork pinch bolts sheared off. The tyre fitter man just looked at me with either pitty or complete disdain, I'm not sure, though it turned out there was a metal works just across the street which would be open in a mere 2 hours straight after a lunch- thank gawd for that, we might make it out of here today after all. At 2pm, I timidly rode my bike with its loose front wheel over to the workshop and after performing a few more pictionary moves and confirming that yes, I was a stupid gringo who shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a toolkit, they set to work on my poor fork with a massive drill. My expression told the laughing man with the big drill that I clearly wasn't having a tranquillo moment however he reassured me that it was 'no problemo', and he was right. 1.5hrs later, I had an oversized bolt fitted and it more importantly, it was holding my front wheel on- many thanks to the very friendly and funny guys at 'Setra', they may even have restored my faith that RG might not be such a bad place after all.

The Setra boys

2006-11-29T22:58:00.000Z

Tyre fun & Scary Campsites
Monday 20th November
I gave Sandra at Dakar a quick call in the morning and found out my tyres had finally been delivered to our favorite place, the dreary Rio Gallegos. We decided to head there today after a wander around Punta Arenas which seems like a nice place but being in Chile, the prices were much the same as at home so we didn't stick around too long.

Once we got to RG, our plan was pick up the tyres and hopefully get them fitted the same day, some chance! We arrvived at the postal depot where I'd been told to pick up the tyres and in keeping with past experiences of RG, I found it to be an empty warehouse being swept up by a couple of guys, who told me it had moved across town to a different address- magic. Anyway, after a bit of mucking about, we eventually found the right place and lo and behold, I was handed over a pair of Meztler Karoos, naturally after having to pay 80 pesos for postage.

I'd spotted a bike shop, SM Motos on the way into town so we went there in the hopes of getting the tyres fitted, and again, RG being true to form, the guy there was pretty unfriendly and wouldn't do them till 'manana manana'. Bugger that I thought, I'll do them myself at El Crappo Municipal Campsite, so one the tent was up and we'd had dinner, I set to work on my rear tyre armed only with a fuzzy recolection of a DVD I'd seen of Helge Perderson changing GS tyres in the african landscape without so much as breaking into a sweat. And do you know what? The Pirelli I took off had been put on back to front!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, after 1.5hours of blood, sweat and almost tears, I'd actually managed to get the rear tyre off and the new one mostly on but the last bit would just not go on. I thought I was going to wreck what was left of the tyre so finally admitting defeat, it was off to bed to listen to the weird noises and strange voices in this abysmal campsite which was odd as we were the only ones there. The toilet block with its broken windows, peeling paint, unhinged doors and flickering light bulb reminded me of something out of that horror film 'Saw'. Nighty night.

2006-11-29T22:57:00.000Z

Ferry Pressure
Sunday 19th November
Today we decided to make a break for the mainland even though the ferry leaves TDF at 5pm, runs once a day and there isn't a ferry on mondays. Oh, and you need to book and we hadn't so no pressure then. We set off from Ushuaia to get to Porvenir at the north west end of the island. We made it through the border at San Sebastian by about 2pm which is essentially just a paperwork excercise getting passports stamped and filling in forms for the bikes. Then we had to leave the nice tarmac and hit the gravel road to Porvenir. The wind was also really strong today, the strongest we've encountered so far which really doesn't make riding on gravel any more fun but fortunatelly, it did die down shortly after we got onto the gravel. I started going a little 'snow blind' (if that makes any sense) and developing a '40 yard' stare whilst having to concentrate on the road surface so hard. I'm sure there was some nice scenery on the way if there was, I took little notice. We came across only two of cyclingsouthamerica.co.uk as Rich had a bit of a buggered knee, about 10 miles from Porvenir at 4.30pm. There was no chance they were going to make this ferry and they looked shattered pushing their bikes up a long hill though I'm sure my shout of 'come on lads, put you're backs into it' really helped. Somehow, we got to the the ferry port at 4.45pm and drove straight on, despite not having booked, it didn't seem to have made a difference- being on bikes helped though.

The ferry was interesting though, the guys had to tie our bikes down with rope which just about went through the bike seats and it was also jam-packed with people so we had to sit outside under some stairs to get out the cold wind. After a 2.5hour ferry ride, we arrived back on the mainland at Punta Arenas about 7.30pm. I'd read about a hostel that you could camp at however I cunningly didn't write down the address though I knew it was called Hostel Independencia. After driving up a random street from the port, we came accross a street called Independencia and after a brief ride up and down, we came across the hostel which was a total life saver. For 3GBPs to camp and use the hostel facilities, you really can't do much better.

2006-11-29T22:56:00.000Z

Saturday 18th November
We were tourists today and did a boat trip on the Beagle Channel. It was a little expensive but we were glad we'd done it after seeing the wildlife including cormorants & sea lions etc plus we stopped off at the Isle Bridges where the Yamana people lived up to the 1880's, covered in seal fat to stay warm whilst living in wooden huts which were surounded by a raised ring that was formed from them throwing out all their seafood and shell debris. We also met a nice english couple on board who were just off to the Antartic for 12 days. We'd love to do that but at about 2k GBPs, it's unfortunately a little over our budget.

Look where you´re bloody going!

2006-11-29T22:54:00.000Z

Is this the End of the World as we know it?

Friday 17th November
After speaking to the cyclists last night, we realised we had actually missed the famous Uhuaia sign you see in all the overlanders pictures so we decided to head back to Ushuaia today. It was cold so we made it in under 2 hours and splashed out and got ourselves checked into the Posada for 70 pesos for a double room, something of a rarity for us. Then it was over to the Tierra del Fuego National Park to take our pictures though it was a bit embarrassing telling everyone that we hadn't actually just arrived from Alaska but were only setting off. According to the sign there, it's only another 17k kms to Alaska...

Give me a sign! (the right Ushuaia sign at the end of the World)

It's really a very beautiful place and we stopped off at the small post office by the shore to get our passports stamped with the 'end of the world'. The guy who works there has one of the best views I've ever seen from his 'office' with a stunning view over to the island and about a dozen wild horses grazing outside. When I said this to him, he only grumbled 'all ze days, all ze days' in a low voice. I had a brick wall outside my office window for 9 years so he should think himself
lucky.

Post Office with a view

2006-11-29T22:53:00.000Z

Thursday 16th November
Good day off the bikes catching up on diaries, emails and much needed washing starting with 'breakfast in tent' delivered by Graceia- I do like this place.

2006-11-17T01:28:00.000Z

Wednesday 15th November
Iain is going to head off on his own for a bit as Michelle and I have to get back to the lovely Rio Gallegos for these tyres. We quite fancied sticking around Ushuaia for a while but after a bloody freezing night in the tent and waking up to, yes snow, we thought we'd head back to Rio Grande today. After a slow start having to pop back into town and bumping into another overlander who was driving a land rover around the world, we headed off about 2pm in to the snow, oh joy. I must say, I have been pretty impressed with my Hein Gericke Cruise riding suit. It's been good in the heat so far whilst I'm now finding out what its like in the cold. As we head back up the Garibaldi Pass, the snow starts to get thicker, a lot thicker actually. Soon we are riding uphill in 1st gear with both feet on the ground and some trucks are having a bit of difficulty too which doesn't totaly fill us with optimism. We actually got to the top of the pass where needless to say, my bike (not me) found a patch of ice and promtly fell away from underneath me. There was no traffic a minute ago but now there were about 3 cars and a truck which just appeared behind us like magic. We got down to the really fun task of trying to pick up a fully laden GS in the snow in front of curious onlookers who were obviously wondering what the hell these stupid bikers were doing trying to ride in the snow. Amazingly, we got it upright again and within a couple of hundred meters or so on the other side, the snow just turned to mush and we were on our way back to Rio Grande, but not before being buffeted by some of the strongest bastard winds we'd encountered so far.

A GS practicaly begging to fall over on the ice

We headed straigh for Hotel Argentino but they were again full however when we asked where the campsite was, something we really didn't fancy, they thought we were asking to camp in their back yard and a few minutes later, we had our tent set up and the bikes were safely locked up in the shed- fantastic.

This place has a very nice living room area and after making some dinner, we ended up getting pretty lashed on various home brews brought out by the owner and one of their friends. It was actualy one of the best beers I've tasted and trust me, I've tasted a few. We got chatting with some english cyclists and listening to some ACDC, eventually getting to bed about 1am though I believe it went on slightly later than us lightweights could manage.

2006-11-17T00:01:00.000Z

Tuesday 14th November
The riding down to Ushuaia has been nothing short of fantastic, the scenery has changed completely and we were now seeing snow capped mountains in the distance. We bumped into a chap we'd met in La Posta riding his Kawasaki Z650, a bike I used to own who was on his way back up. The road then ran alongside Lago Fagnano which was quite simply stunning after a couple of weeks of riding straight flat roads. It felt very alpine actually and the road then rose up to Paso Garibaldi and down a few hairpin bends towards Ushuaia where took the obligatory photos of our bikes next to the towns sign. We are now in the most southerly city in the world!

Er, the wrong Ushuaia, End of the World sign

We stayed at Club Andino, which is a great little campsite up the hill behind the town and is actually a ski centre in the winter. You can camp at the bottom of the piste or as we did, in the woods and there's a communal room with a fire and a stove to cook in too. Its very clean and well run however not for the first time, my guide book got it wrong and instead of 6 pesos per person, it was 12 so close but no cigar. And then followed one of the coldest nights I´ve ever experienced in a tent- brrrr...

2006-11-16T23:59:00.000Z

Monday 13th November
A quick call to Javier reveals that my tyres won't be here till wed or thur this week so we're out of here. The plan is now to get to Tierra Del Fuego today and we'll have to back track this way after we leave the island. We roll up to the ferry port in Punta Delgada and are eventually allowed on the ferry by the severly unhappy-looking official after letting all the trucks on first though. It costs us 22 pesos each and only takes about 20 minutes or so and soon we're on Tierra Del Feugo, quite exiting really.

The riding is also quite exiting. The gravel roads start quite quickly and soon we're battling to get past all the trucks that are just about the only things on these roads. I feel like I'm getting the hang of the gravel now and soon I'm tearing along at speeds of up to 60/70 mph. More than once do I think that it would really bloody hurt coming off on this stuff, but what the hell, it's great fun. Actually, this is one of the first days I've actually really enjoyed the riding. After having to stop at a couple of border check points as the island is split between Argentina and Chile, we make it to San Sebastian where I was reliably informed by a trucker that there is fuel here but there isn't. I check my map and it's then that it becomes clear there are two San Sebastians, right next to each other just over the border. The border officials are all very friendly and its really just a paper exercise getting things stamped and we even get new copies of our vehicle import documents which I wasn't expecting.

Anyhow, we get to Rio Grande about 7pm and are keen to get some acommodation pretty sharpish. We were told about a place called Hotel Argentino so we tried there but unfortunatelly it was full up. Grace, the owner, was great though and spent about 10 minutes phoning around on our behalf and she got us a room in the nearby Hotel Atlantido. It was a tad more expensive than we're used to here, nearly 8GBP for gods sake but hey, I wasn't complaining and it had secure parking. Iain headed back to the hotel after finding a takeaway place so Michelle and I found a really nice little cafe place with an original 70's look and some tasty food, with several cerveza's of course.

2006-11-16T23:58:00.000Z

Sunday 12th November
We made it down to Rio Gallegos where I'm supposed to pick up these tyres, and we'd met an Italian chap called Bruno who was riding a GS1100 so we ended up finding some accommodation in town together as it was starting to hail, not teriffic for camping really. After trying a few places which didn't have parking, Iain was approached by a woman at some traffic lights who said that she had a hostel so we followed her car there. it was pretty basic and the room Michelle and I got (the dubiously titled 'matrimonial' room) was one of the most depressing and cramped rooms I'd seen, having been chopped in half to make another bedroom. To be fair, it wasn't actually that bad and the showers was clean enough but when you turn up tired, cold and wet in a strange town, you're judgment can sometimes be a little impaired however I wasn't too taken with Rio Gallegos. The people here just don't seem as friendly as those we've met elsewhere although I could be wrong. I have to say though that pretty much everyone we've met have been some of the friendliest people I've met anywhere- Argentina really has been a pleasant surprise as I just didn't know what to expect before I came here.

Anyway, there was no word on the tyres yet so I'll check again tomorrow.