tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76248966894471545992024-03-12T15:52:39.490-07:00Jimi's Great Southern JourneyJimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-29582079583941220682012-05-28T20:37:00.001-07:002012-05-29T12:12:58.456-07:00ALL GREAT THINGS MUST END!Hospital continued....<br />
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At the hospital my
greatest fear was realized. No one spoke English! Having depended on Max as my
translator the entire trip I’ve been very lazy about picking up more Spanish
and now I will pay for my sin!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SKgGVAyFlzQ/T8RvgKuRJcI/AAAAAAAAAus/iQ6-PHXnGIU/s1600/Hurt+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SKgGVAyFlzQ/T8RvgKuRJcI/AAAAAAAAAus/iQ6-PHXnGIU/s400/Hurt+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Removing my gear after the accident</td></tr>
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I quickly learned the word for pain (dolor) and
used the #8 (ocho) to describe the pain, I would have used the number diez
except that left me no place to go up in case the pain got worse (fat chance of
that!). After a number of x-rays I was diagnosed with a broken collarbone and 3
broken ribs with a possible punctured lung and told that they would monitor me
through the night. I was relieved I’d be spending the night because I couldn’t imagine
any way possible getting my damaged body to a hostel. One thing you learn
quickly in Argentina is that if you want something you must ask. This goes for
a menu in a restaurant, to pay the dinner bill or get pain meds. They had
hooked me up to an IV so I mistakenly thought they were administering pain meds
through that but as the time wore on my pain began getting worse.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3vRGrRC4aVo/T8Rwk2PWj5I/AAAAAAAAAu0/v_a59AGeE54/s1600/Hurt+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3vRGrRC4aVo/T8Rwk2PWj5I/AAAAAAAAAu0/v_a59AGeE54/s400/Hurt+2.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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I finally
asked for the pain meds and they promptly gave me a shot, I guess all’s I had
to do was ask!<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Once I got the
shot sleep came easily and I actually got a halfway decent nights rest. The
next morning I got a visit from a doctor who spoke some English who asked about
my insurance. After I told him I was insured he started going over my injuries.
The ribs would take care of themselves but he thought I should consider having
a plate and screws to put the collarbone back together. After multiple unsuccessful
attempts to contact anyone at Blue Cross (welcome to our world Senor Dr.) I was
told that maybe it would be better to wait and get it done somewhere else, in
other words “we don’t want to get stuck with the bill”. Meanwhile back at the
accident Brine had continued on another 35 miles to Tress Lagos, a very small
village, to see about gathering up my motto and gear. At around 11:00 PM Saint
Carlos shows up at John’s hostel with a flatbed truck and 3 big friends to go
back out on the pampas and find the bike. This they did and hauled it back to Tress
Lagos. By the time they got it all unloaded it was after 2 in the morning! Of
course Carlos wouldn’t take so much as a dime for him and his friends. By this
time John had e-mailed Max I’d been in an accident. Since John knew little
about my condition he couldn’t tell Max much.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xARTfzQQULM/T8Rw9NJXoQI/AAAAAAAAAu8/slgGLSVecY4/s1600/x+ray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xARTfzQQULM/T8Rw9NJXoQI/AAAAAAAAAu8/slgGLSVecY4/s400/x+ray.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">X-Ray showing broken collarbone and ribs</td></tr>
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Max had spent the previous 30+
hours busing and hitchhiking down to Ushuaia then an additional 8 hours
exploring the city, all without sleep! After receiving the news Max went
straight to the bus station and bought a ticket to Peidra Buenas for 5 the next
morning. He figured, being as tired as he was, that there was a good chance of
over sleeping he planned departure time so he hooked up with some girl and
spent the night roaming around town and trying his luck at the local casino. He
made the bus and after hours of torturous bus ride arrived by my bedside at
around 9 pm my second night there. Man was I happy to see him! I think I may
even have shed a small tear of joy! So
after 2 nights in the hospital I was given my walking papers. Max found us a
hotel nearby and went a retrieved my “pain meds”. Well, that fist night out was
a pretty uncomfortable night. Turns out my “pain meds” were actually anti-inflammatory
drugs and not the kick ass painkillers I was hoping for. The next morning I had
to gimp my way back to the hospital and get a prescription for some stronger
stuff (remember you must ask to receive!). We spent another 2 or three days
here before I felt I could move on to a happier place (Peidra in a depressing
town!).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uF1FqeBRPlQ/T8Rxdiku10I/AAAAAAAAAvE/zs4HmxHLixI/s1600/I'm+OK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uF1FqeBRPlQ/T8Rxdiku10I/AAAAAAAAAvE/zs4HmxHLixI/s400/I'm+OK.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo I sent Charlotte to let her know I was OK</td></tr>
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Plus I wanted to get to an area where Max actually had something to do.
El Calafate fit the bill so we loaded up on a bus and road 6 hours across the
Pampas to see what we could. The bus ride was pretty cool. It was a double deck
affair and we sat up front on the top deck. What a view! It’s as close to
riding a motorcycle (view wise) as you can get without the wind! Again we saw
herds of Guanacos and lots of Rheas. Once arriving in El Calafate we began the
task of finding a suitable place to stay. We quickly stumbled onto, what turned
out to be, the perfect hostel. My hosts for next number of days were a young
couple, Belen and Dario. I began calling Belen “Mom”. She was always making
sure I was comfortable and asking if there was anything I needed, even baking
cookies for me. In El Calafate Max had a more interesting area to explore and
spent a day at the Perito Moraino Glacier. I guess it was pretty impressive
because Max, a ex glacier guide from Alaska, was very impressed at it’s size
and the calving. Life in El Calafate quickly became very routine for me. Up in
the morning; breakfast of coffee and toast then back to the pillows for a rest.
In the afternoons it was a short walk and back to the pillows and in the
evening it would be dinner cooked by Dario and back to the pillows. Get it? I
didn’t do too much the first few days there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H6syFdB5ziA/T8RyGdgfTkI/AAAAAAAAAvM/VfHAZmtFrkw/s1600/Belen+and+Dario.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H6syFdB5ziA/T8RyGdgfTkI/AAAAAAAAAvM/VfHAZmtFrkw/s640/Belen+and+Dario.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My hosts in El Calafate Belen, Dario and their daughter</td></tr>
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Slowly but surely my non -pillow
time increased, as did the length of my walks. The town is set up for tourists
with lots of outdoor stores and coffee shops. There is also a wetlands area
within walking distance where you can see all kinds of birds including the
Argentina Flamingo that looks very similar to the Pink Flamingo. After hanging
out here for a week or so it was time to move on to El Chalten, a town about 3
hours north by bus. So we packed up a got a cab to the bus terminal.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jra8HQo8aEo/T8RynawO5fI/AAAAAAAAAvU/vnLxYjmYosU/s1600/El+Chalten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jra8HQo8aEo/T8RynawO5fI/AAAAAAAAAvU/vnLxYjmYosU/s400/El+Chalten.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El Chalten</td></tr>
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I guess I
wasn’t really ready to travel. The cab driver took a few too many turns too
fast and hit a number of speed bumps at speed that combined caused considerable
movement in my tender rib area. Ouch!!!! I can’t remember feeling such acute
pain before and that includes immediately after the accident! By the time I got
to the bus station I was having serious misgivings on my decision to travel so
soon but the thought of getting back into a cab pushed me to soldier on. Once
on the bus I discovered my choice of seating wasn’t the best (I sat right over
the front wheels) so after a number of scream inducing bumps Max and I found
some seats nearer the middle of the bus.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oi1cv5Q3NU8/T8Ry7QnxPzI/AAAAAAAAAvc/Qju7PsjJmOI/s1600/Fritz+Roy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oi1cv5Q3NU8/T8Ry7QnxPzI/AAAAAAAAAvc/Qju7PsjJmOI/s320/Fritz+Roy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fitz Roy</td></tr>
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<br />
That and doubling up on my pain meds
made for a rather enjoyable trip. The route took us Lago Argentino and Lago
Viedma, both large beautiful lakes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V1itgnXk8cE/T8RzLQaNCJI/AAAAAAAAAvk/640PhsvE8us/s1600/Fritz+Sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V1itgnXk8cE/T8RzLQaNCJI/AAAAAAAAAvk/640PhsvE8us/s400/Fritz+Sunset.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El Chalten Sunset</td></tr>
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Once we arrived in El Chalten we found
ourselves in a small somewhat nondescript town surrounded by incredible glacier
carved peaks including Friz Roy, a famous “must climb peak” for the seasoned
climber that come to El Chalten as a destination. While I continued my recovery
Max took advantage and did a couple of overnight treks. We stayed here for 6
nights then traveled back to El Calafate and back to “moms” house. It so nice
to be going back to a place that is so familiar and friendly. My room was ready
when we arrived including the necessary four pillows I require! Once back Max
began trying to figure out how he was going to get to Tres Lagos where my bike
has been stored. It turns out he would to buy a very expensive bus ticket
Perito Moreno to get anywhere close to Tres Lagos. Even then the bus drops him
4 kms from town. He considers hitchhiking but there isn’t much traffic on that
road. On a whim I contacted Carlos, the saint that drove me to the hospital a
few weeks ago, to see if he knew of anyone coming down from Tres Lagos that
could give Max a lift.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qjTW1Mir67I/T8RzgWtuk7I/AAAAAAAAAvs/XI6Pj1NxHqI/s1600/Max+returns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qjTW1Mir67I/T8RzgWtuk7I/AAAAAAAAAvs/XI6Pj1NxHqI/s400/Max+returns.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max returns with the GS</td></tr>
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Well, as luck would have it, Carlos himself is coming
down the next day to pick up some people and will be happy to give Max a ride! Things
do have a way of working out on the road and this was no exception. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Friday March 23<sup>rd</sup><o:p></o:p></div>
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Max catches a ride
the following day to Tres Lagos, a 2-hour trip north, and puts the GS back
together. The only thing mechanically wrong with the bike was the hydraulic
line for the clutch was pinched and once he freed that up the bike ran like a
champ! He made it back to El Calafate around 7 that night much to my relief. Also
much to my surprise the old girl didn’t look too bad. It was very apparent I
got the worst of the wreck.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eMDsjBbIE8c/T8R0IV_NbiI/AAAAAAAAAv0/ky8nncnKDg8/s1600/Hot+rod.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eMDsjBbIE8c/T8R0IV_NbiI/AAAAAAAAAv0/ky8nncnKDg8/s400/Hot+rod.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El Chalten Hot Rod</td></tr>
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Saturday March 24<sup>th<o:p></o:p></sup></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bei6apcpw98/T8R0c9-YbGI/AAAAAAAAAv8/Zrh_f0pFIh4/s1600/Max+takes+off.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bei6apcpw98/T8R0c9-YbGI/AAAAAAAAAv8/Zrh_f0pFIh4/s320/Max+takes+off.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max leaves for Buenos Aries</td></tr>
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The plan is for
Max to get an early start today. He has almost 2000 miles to get the bike to
Buenos Aries and has 4 days to do it. So around 2:00 PM he finally gets it
together and hits the road. He is carrying my Spot unit so at least I can track
his progress. Well wouldn’t you know it Max has either forgotten to turn on the
spot or it’s not working in this area. Now I can sit a wonder where my boy has
gone. By the next day the <br />
Spot begins working and I can see he has made good time. He has gone 900 miles
in the last day! I can even see where he has stopped for lunch. Pretty cool
thing these Spot Units. I spend my time walking around town, hanging in coffee
shops and resting. <o:p></o:p><br />
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Tuesday March 27<sup>th</sup><o:p></o:p></div>
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Today is my turn
to leave. I really hate to go but I have to be in Buenos Aries on the 28<sup>th</sup>
to begin the paperwork for getting the bike shipped out. After heartfelt
goodbyes to my hosts Belen and Dario I catch a cab to the airport where I get
enough pity to be given seats in the front of the jet. Unfortunitly there is no
1<sup>st</sup> class on the plane and all I gain is a little more leg room (I
was hopping for free drinks, cheese plates and whatever else comes with the
upgrade). Max and John meet me at the airport and we all share a cab into
Buenos Aries to our hostel. Kind of funny but Max got in to BA last night and
John had been there since the day before. They both ended up at the same hostel
but didn’t know it until the next morning! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Wednesday March 28<sup>th</sup><o:p></o:p></div>
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It turns out I
don’t have to be there for the initial paperwork so I stay back at the hostel
while Max and John go find our broker. I did, however, give Max and John directions which I obtained using Dufas as my guide. They were gone all day! I was sitting back at the hostel feeling sorry for myself thinking they were out exploring Buenos Aries without me. It turns out the directions they got were way off and it took them all day to find the place! When they finally returned and told me what happened I felt bad but caught very little shit for it. Had the tables been turned I don't think I would have as forgiving!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gTfZzs_1gZQ/T8R1FqxEkuI/AAAAAAAAAwE/IDV_XV015Tw/s1600/Murial+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gTfZzs_1gZQ/T8R1FqxEkuI/AAAAAAAAAwE/IDV_XV015Tw/s640/Murial+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BA Street Art</td></tr>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thursday<o:p></o:p></div>
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Off to the airport
to ship the bikes. Max and John follow on their bikes, me riding in a cab. The
route we took was the same route last nights storm took. Big billboards were
folded in half and trees uprooted. 14 people died in that storm last night. Once
at the shipping warehouse we are told we could only ship bike related stuff on
the pallet. This put a hurt on us as we had hoped to ship all are camping gear,
tools cloths etc.. Lucky for us the guy helping palletizing our bikes took pity
on us and made a call to the airline. He got off the phone and told us as long
as it was attached to the bike it could go. So began the process of repacking
the panniers, trunk, tank bag and putting Max’s tank panniers on and stuffing
them full! We actually got everything stuffed in we needed and left the bikes
to the shipper. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Friday
through Sunday<o:p></o:p></div>
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Spent Friday
getting a haircut then going to the dentist. Down here there is no need to set
up an appointment for the dentist. You just show up and walk in. After looking
at my teeth he decided it would take longer than he had at the moment. “Could
you come back in 3 hours?” Sure, no problem. So Max and I went to the Zoo.<br />
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<br />
After we returned to the dentist and got the work done including my cavity,
cleaning my teeth and then Max’s. The whole thing cost around $150. Seemed fair.
Saturday Max and I took a cab to Boca, a old district in BA that has the BA
soccer stadium, questionable neighborhoods and a cool area by the harbor that
reminds me of Bourbon Street, New Orleans.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This night John
Max and I go out to our last dinner in South America. We spend the evening
drinking wine, eating steak and reminiscing about the trip. It’s been an
adventure!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hxxf-eAbLs0/T8R6RkF75hI/AAAAAAAAAwo/aPMtPRn40Is/s1600/Boco+building+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hxxf-eAbLs0/T8R6RkF75hI/AAAAAAAAAwo/aPMtPRn40Is/s640/Boco+building+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buildings of Boco</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tdy5eHz45Z8/T8UOStrrbUI/AAAAAAAAAxE/bjo2JXVfaa0/s1600/Bike+ready+to+ship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tdy5eHz45Z8/T8UOStrrbUI/AAAAAAAAAxE/bjo2JXVfaa0/s640/Bike+ready+to+ship.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GS ready to ship</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ngVo_d-T8TQ/T8UOteU_zVI/AAAAAAAAAxM/01Yhi17xsh0/s1600/bikes+wrapped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ngVo_d-T8TQ/T8UOteU_zVI/AAAAAAAAAxM/01Yhi17xsh0/s640/bikes+wrapped.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Both bikes wrapped to go</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vHbXgPiRKN0/T8UfQYq95hI/AAAAAAAAAyA/kH8M_tno9_s/s1600/219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vHbXgPiRKN0/T8UfQYq95hI/AAAAAAAAAyA/kH8M_tno9_s/s640/219.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner with some fellow bike riders from Austrailia and Canada</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Monday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We say goodbye to
all our new friends and begin our Journey home, a 26 hour marathon of flights
and airports. First we fly to Santiago Chile, then to Montreal Canada, after a
4 hour layover it’s off to Vancouver Canada then a puddle jumper to Seattle. We
arrive at 3:30 PM Tuesday. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7oiVwvzPTYk/T8UPHnUxpDI/AAAAAAAAAxU/dilNQc1U5qY/s1600/Bike+in+seattle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7oiVwvzPTYk/T8UPHnUxpDI/AAAAAAAAAxU/dilNQc1U5qY/s640/Bike+in+seattle.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Seattle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tuesday-<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I spend the next
week going to the doctor, catching up on old friends and shopping. Max took off
for Portland and I met Charlotte at the Seattle Airport on the 19<sup>th</sup>
to fly down to Las Vegas for a friends’ son wedding. So seeing how “what goes
on in <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Vegas stays in
Vegas” makes this a good place to end this blog. But one last thing…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c-ktWDyN6Q4/T8UPeUhvUII/AAAAAAAAAxc/qerfRkJkglo/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-04-03+at+6.30.34+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c-ktWDyN6Q4/T8UPeUhvUII/AAAAAAAAAxc/qerfRkJkglo/s640/Screen+shot+2012-04-03+at+6.30.34+PM.png" width="516" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>A few Stats on the trip:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My total Moto
miles: 17800<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Total miles on the
GS (mine and Max’s): 19600<o:p></o:p><br />
Total Countries: 14</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Total KTM
breakdowns: 9+or –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Total days
including September Cobra trip: 187<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Total bones broken
(Jimi only): 8<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Total days in
hospital: 2<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most miles in one
day: 750 Laird Hot Springs to Prince George BC<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally I’d like
to dedicate this blog to two people. The first person would be Patrick Moffit.
I met Patrick on my ride through the Gobi Desert in Mongolia. He was the person who organized
the trip and had been riding in the Himalaya and Asia for years. Although I
only rode with him for 8 days he really left a lasting impression and opened my
eyes to traveling the world on two wheels. I was hoping to someday do another trip
with him through India and the Himalayas but unfortunately he died of cancer
before I could make that happen. The second person would have to be Bob
Youngstrom, my friend Rick Farrens’ uncle and the oldest member of the Cobras
MC, Oakland chapter. Bob, a world traveler himself, has followed my last two trips closer than anyone
else. He gets all the maps and follows my blog and Spot Unit, tracing my route
out with a highlighter. He then prints out the entire blog, puts it all
together in a binder together with the maps and presents it all to me at the
end of my trips. Thanks Bob!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-2464866972320965952012-04-10T15:18:00.000-07:002012-05-29T12:10:09.460-07:00PATAGONIA!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zm1ieiGiZfc/T4S4RZwkxwI/AAAAAAAAArs/ZpnYGWxPKhc/s1600/Corcovado.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zm1ieiGiZfc/T4S4RZwkxwI/AAAAAAAAArs/ZpnYGWxPKhc/s640/Corcovado.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corcovado viewed from Chaiten</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GVk-Pc3KEKw/T4S4wRSV5UI/AAAAAAAAAr0/Z06cXn5F1jc/s1600/Mt+Chaiten+blowing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GVk-Pc3KEKw/T4S4wRSV5UI/AAAAAAAAAr0/Z06cXn5F1jc/s640/Mt+Chaiten+blowing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Chaiten Blowing steam</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-THuxd0xOOCw/T4WmijDpnmI/AAAAAAAAAsU/01zvp9CH-MY/s1600/Chile+border+line.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-THuxd0xOOCw/T4WmijDpnmI/AAAAAAAAAsU/01zvp9CH-MY/s640/Chile+border+line.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chile border in</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZvmFfZXfkdc/T4Wmwdr1vdI/AAAAAAAAAsc/SPtTEi-3038/s1600/Customs+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZvmFfZXfkdc/T4Wmwdr1vdI/AAAAAAAAAsc/SPtTEi-3038/s640/Customs+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chile border out!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wednesday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Max cooks up a fantastic breakfast of eggs, steak and
potatoes. We still don’t know much about the area but the visitors center opens
at 10 and we learn that there is a
hike up the volcano so we decide to stay another day. First thing we need is
cash so we track down the bank only to find that the ATM only works for Master
Card.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FgEPqwBqgwY/T4S5G9vZUbI/AAAAAAAAAr8/I2eq4Q3jGhg/s1600/Max+cooking+Chaiten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FgEPqwBqgwY/T4S5G9vZUbI/AAAAAAAAAr8/I2eq4Q3jGhg/s400/Max+cooking+Chaiten.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max cooking up a storm</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Then it’s off to get gas. Nope the line is a hour long so we say f@#k it,
lets ride. So we head north out of town to find the trailhead. On the way Max
stops to ask directions from 2 girls on the side of the road. It seems they
know where to go and they are going to the same place. They need a ride and we
need directions so they hope on Max and my bikes and we head off. After about
30 kms I begin to worry about gas plus it seems we are going too far past the
volcano. I pull over and after further attempts to communicate we determine the
girls are going to the end of the road and we passed the trailhead 15 kms back.
After saying our goodbyes we turn around and start back. John runs out of gas
and I give him the liter I carry with me. Earlier I had noticed my fork seals
are leaking badly so I was anxious to call the SF BMW and get their advise. So
I headed back while Max and John climbed the Volcano.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mQID7iyvQSo/T4WnqPkGHVI/AAAAAAAAAss/VGelxkEJzsI/s1600/Hichhikers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mQID7iyvQSo/T4WnqPkGHVI/AAAAAAAAAss/VGelxkEJzsI/s400/Hichhikers.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These hitch hikers from Isla Chiloe braved riding on the back of Max and<br />
my bikes up htrough the park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After talking to BMW I’m
not as concerned about my problem which is a relief. <o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pnHZXOdpXO0/T4S5fFmeNWI/AAAAAAAAAsE/N9RPF02JQCA/s1600/chaiten+rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pnHZXOdpXO0/T4S5fFmeNWI/AAAAAAAAAsE/N9RPF02JQCA/s400/chaiten+rain.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Max shows up without John who had run out of gas again and
had to push his bike the last three blocks to the hotel. Now things really
begin to twist. We have been seeing scenes on the news of protests and long
fuel lines but didn’t know where they came from. Well at dinner we got to
talking to a guy from the area who spoke English and he informed us the
protesters had blockaded a bridge that separated the southern Patagonia from
the North and had stopped any fuel from getting through. That’s where we had
planned to go tomorrow so once again protests will change our plans again
(remember Guatemala?). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thursday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We wake to a bluebird day! The sun is shinning and Corovalo
Volcano is standing tall! Briner is the breakfast chef today and cooks up
potatoes and eggs plus his famous coffee.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e6FPP93hijc/T4S54FMypyI/AAAAAAAAAsM/MPoMkAE7jyc/s1600/Barge+Chaiten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e6FPP93hijc/T4S54FMypyI/AAAAAAAAAsM/MPoMkAE7jyc/s400/Barge+Chaiten.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tides out </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Max and I head down to the gas station and there is no line!
Fill up with what turns out to be our last drop of Chilean Gas. The plan is to
ride south to La Junta, the last town with any gas in Southern Chile, and turn
east into Argentina. Down the road 50 kms. We stop to wait for John to catch up
and talk to a family that just came from the south. “No gas in La Junta”. Now
our only choice is to back track to Argentina the way we came into Chile. It’s
still is a beautiful ride. Seeing everything in reverse is like riding a
different road. We stop for gas before reaching Esquel and decide to spend the
night there. While looking for lodging an another rider stops by. His name is
Greg and he’s riding down from Toronto. So we join forces and find a hostel
that will accommodate all of us. Gregs been riding alone since July coming
across Canada to Alaska then South.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CZCpyfuKSZk/T4WnXP0RdhI/AAAAAAAAAsk/H4Ofz0rQtL4/s1600/Road+from+chaiten+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CZCpyfuKSZk/T4WnXP0RdhI/AAAAAAAAAsk/H4Ofz0rQtL4/s400/Road+from+chaiten+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near Chaiten</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He’s had some pretty exciting times
including bandits knocking him off his bike at Lake Atitlan and robbing him at
machetie point. They took all of his clothes and money. His most recient
adventure was he was in southern Chile and got caught up in the uprising. So it
was off to a late dinner (restaurants here open at 9:00 pm for dinner) and swap
stories of the road. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lazy morning drinking coffee and shooting the shit with
Greg. Max want a day on the internet to try to work out details to sell the
KTM. So it’s decided we’ll stay another day while Greg continues his quest to
reach Ushuaia. Not much for me to do so I go out, buy a sharpie pen and write
the names of all 15 countries I’ve ridden through on my gas tank. I think it
looks cool but briner just dosen’t get it.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wEQM1oXnxhQ/T4WpFHQ5ryI/AAAAAAAAAs0/ewzRIfKd10E/s1600/Esquel+Hostel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wEQM1oXnxhQ/T4WpFHQ5ryI/AAAAAAAAAs0/ewzRIfKd10E/s400/Esquel+Hostel.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our hostel in Esquel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Why would you want to put stickers
and writing all over a perfectly good motorcycle? Meanwhile he washes his bike
again. Another late dinner at Cheers, a family run restaurant/bar that
shamelessly stole the name from a tv show. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ZU1wPn70CU/T4Wpcgbj3AI/AAAAAAAAAs8/RVF2ld4thFM/s1600/GS+art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ZU1wPn70CU/T4Wpcgbj3AI/AAAAAAAAAs8/RVF2ld4thFM/s640/GS+art.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moto Art</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We get on the road around 11 and ride South to Rio Mayo, a
little sheep shearing town that is also the capitol of this providence we are
in. On the way we meet some riders from Braizl that are riding North from
Ushuaia. They tell us off gas shortages south of us and they are beginning to
ration.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sJx8LorV40A/T4Wp0JpphAI/AAAAAAAAAtE/D5zHwILAsbU/s1600/Road+shrine+before+Rio+Mayo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sJx8LorV40A/T4Wp0JpphAI/AAAAAAAAAtE/D5zHwILAsbU/s400/Road+shrine+before+Rio+Mayo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roadside shrine near<br />
Rio Mayo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
They advise us to pick up extra gas as many stations are closing. Shit
we just can’t dodge this! About 40 km’s from Rio Mayo Max loses the end of his
muffler and while retrieving it notices and new noise coming from the bike. As
soon as we reach Rio Mayo we find a shop that can rivet the tail piece back on
and Max has me listen to the bike. Big noise! Sounds like piston slap to me.
But we also suspect the starter clutch again. The owner lets us use the shop
and once again Max and I are tearing into the KTM. After a while we decide it’s
fruitless and head over to the hotel where we find that there is a KTM dealer
165 miles away. Hell that’s like next store in this country so the new plan;
Find a truck and get the bike to Comodoro Rivadavia, 165 miles East. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tESJy8gAUB4/T4WqKK9WyzI/AAAAAAAAAtM/gH6dNEjJqxY/s1600/Rio+Mayo+shop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tESJy8gAUB4/T4WqKK9WyzI/AAAAAAAAAtM/gH6dNEjJqxY/s400/Rio+Mayo+shop.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End of the road for Moto Diablo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While I put the bike back together Max goes out looking for
a truck and driver. The guy that owns the shop wants $700 to do it but Max
finds a guy that will do it for half that so stay tuned for our next adventure.
We meet the guy at 3 and load up the bike. John and I will follow behind. What
happened next is while we are waiting for the truck to take John begins a
conversation with 2 Scottish Bicyclists. The truck begins to roll so I follow
but John, deep in conversation, fails to notice us leaving. The truck turns up
a street and as per SOP I wait at the corner to show John we turned. Finally,
after watching the truck disappear in the distance I see John down the street
turning my way. I give him a wave then proceed to catch up with the truck. The
truck has pulled over waiting for us to catch up.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CDwzEKR2JEo/T4Wqdz92wdI/AAAAAAAAAtU/QPC9ere6dBA/s1600/Rio+Mayo+kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CDwzEKR2JEo/T4Wqdz92wdI/AAAAAAAAAtU/QPC9ere6dBA/s400/Rio+Mayo+kids.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some kids at Rio Mayo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mnCNdjWsHiM/T4Wqyn9iAVI/AAAAAAAAAtc/aXvSRsXhuQk/s1600/Rio+Mayo+Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mnCNdjWsHiM/T4Wqyn9iAVI/AAAAAAAAAtc/aXvSRsXhuQk/s400/Rio+Mayo+Hotel.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our hotel in Rio Mayo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When I get there John is
nowhere in sight. Shit I thought he was behind me! So off I go on one of what
turns out to be three scouting rides around town. On the third attempt I see
him coming from town toward me and wave to him to follow. Instead he thinks the
truck is in front of him and continues riding out of town. I can’t believe what
I’m seeing . Not only is he riding
away from me but he’s riding like a bat out of hell! So I turn around and give chase. I’ve got
the GS wound up to 110mph and I am hardly gaining on him. Finally after chasing
him for 5 miles I catch up and wave him over. Then I politely (NOT!) tell him
to turn around, the truck is back in town. Well we all managed to get together
and made our way to Comodoro Rivadavia. We are in the Pampas region of
Argentina and the landscape is mostly just rolling hill and scrub. We did pass
by a couple of large lakes but other than that it’s pretty boring. As we
approached Comodoro Rivadavia we began seeing the oil derricks and pumps this
area is known for.<br />
<br />
We found the KTM dealer without too much trouble but it
being Sunday there was no place to leave the bike. While looking for
alternative storage Max talks to the neighbor next store to the shop who
graciously offers his house for storage. A quick search of the finds the hotels
and hostels are relatively expensive but we settle on one near the motoshop but
it has no parking. Well it’s back to Nester’s, where Max will keep his bike for
the night, and ask if John and I could keep our bikes in his yard. “No, it is
not safe in my yard, you must put them in my basement” was the answer. After
spending a couple of minutes trying to convince him that would not be necessary
he made more room for our bikes. The over priced hostel turns out to be a
shithole. Noisy, no internet and no kitchen. Worse than all that, no love! We
did meet a couple from France who have spent the last 3 years riding a 2-person
bicycle around the world. That certainly puts our trip into perspective. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then we find out the bad news; 2 day holiday Monday and
Tuesday! This would mean not getting Max’s bike into the shop until Wednesday.
Bummer! So we did what any down ridden traveler would do, we went out for an
extravagant dinner.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Monday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Big surprise, the motoshop is open. The downside is they won’t
look at the bike until the boss gets back from Buenos Aries the next day. The
first thing on my list of things to do is look for a better hotel. It seems
this oil rich town is used to entertaining oil rich executives. The hotels are
expensive! I don’t care if I’m forced to spend time in this place I’m going to
be comfortable. So we shell out the big bucks and get a room at the Hotel
Austral. Later this day I find they have gin in the bar and know how to pour a
drink! Money forgotten I’m settling in for the long haul.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tuesday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back to a all too familiar routine. Get up,eat and go to the
KTM shop. At least we have Nester to break up the routine. We stop in to get
some of Max’s things and end up spending a couple of hours with Nester in his
kitchen swapping stories in our respected languages.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Inwj5vwg5qA/T4tfNzZ5D_I/AAAAAAAAAt0/AJ2ZoPDMjvM/s1600/Nester.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Inwj5vwg5qA/T4tfNzZ5D_I/AAAAAAAAAt0/AJ2ZoPDMjvM/s400/Nester.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nester with Max and his son</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Of course Max is the only
one who can partly understand both so I mostly just sit and listen. Nester tell
us about when the moto shop bought the property next store and tried to swindle
him out of some of his property. Sounds like the shop owner is a real asshole.
Very discouraging.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7faZ60OiyjQ/T4tddZoYJLI/AAAAAAAAAtk/QlNtpQdHefM/s1600/The+end+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7faZ60OiyjQ/T4tddZoYJLI/AAAAAAAAAtk/QlNtpQdHefM/s400/The+end+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The diagnosis is terminal</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Back to the shop and our fears are realized. The main crank bearings are toast, no
parts in Argentina and shipping parts from Europe are 3 weeks out. One KTM for
sale; $3000 as is where is. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wednesday<br />
<br />
Same old routine. Begin negotiations with the shop owner to
sell the bike. Max and I take a walk along the water front. All the streets are
covered in mud. I ask some people about it and am told the sewage from the
hillside buildings perk up during high tide. I’m thinking maybe they meant
storm sewers since the city doesn’t smell like shit but it sure is dirty. Back
to the KTM. We have an offer of $1500 for the POS.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thursday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Agree on $2510
for the bike. This gives us $2000 to put in my pocket after we pay the labor on
the bike. Truly a bittersweet moment. With all the problems we all had become
obsessed with the idea getting the bike to Ushuaia. The KTM died 2 days ride
from our goal. This makes my very sad because it means Max won’t be riding with
us but, as always, Max puts a positive twist on the situation. He’s actually
looking forward to some bus traveling and maybe even some hitch hiking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well the plan today is to get to the moto shop when it
opens, get our money for the bike and get the hell out of town! Max and I get
to the shop but have to wait for the owner to show up. Selling a used foreign
vehicle in Argentina is illegal so we need to do it in a way it appears the
bike is being sold as scrap to be used for parts only. This is to protect us as
we have already imported the bike into Argentina and it must be exported within
6 months, if not Max will be tagged in the system and possibly fined if he ever
tries to enter the country again.
The owner finally shows with the cash and we begin to wade through the
legalize part of the deal. At this point I had the money and just wanted to get
out of there and ride! But
noooooo! Since my name was also on the title, even as a “or”, I would have to
have my signature notarized! By now it was a quarter to 1 and the notary goes
for his 3-hour lunch at one. “Come back at 4” I’m told. NO,NO,NO! I must have
said this out load because a call is made and the notary agrees to stay open
for us. Max and I squeeze into a truck with 2 others and tear ass through
Commordoro looking for the notary office. Once there the bikes title is passed
around the office and many calls made until the big cheese himself approaches
us to inform me we don’t need this document notarized! Great! We squeeze back
in the truck and haul ass back to the shop hoping the secretary is still there
so we can finish the deal. She is and after hanging around long enough to see
Max can handle it from here John and I finally get out of town around 2:30. So
we leave Max behind to deal with his shit, getting the document written up
right, packing up his stuff and mailing it up to Buenos Aries and finding a
place to stay for the night. John and I ride south on Rota 3 then turned west
on highway 49 leaving the pavement behind. The ride along Ruta 3 takes us along
the Atlantic coast, flat but rugged with rocky fingers jutting out from the
shore. Not to sure about the geology around here but it sure looks volcanic.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
The wind is defiantly picking up, blowing in from the west and gusting, causing
a few unintended lane changes along the way! After turning onto the gravel the
wind continues to hit hard causing the bike to drift onto deeper berms of
gravel. With all the weight plus the size of my bike it becomes quite a
handful. We are heading for the Monumento Natural Bosques Petraifcados stopping to camp a few klics east of
the park.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qxj6qv4T42o/T4tgQzoyluI/AAAAAAAAAt8/MGj7OgUuhqo/s1600/Old+truck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qxj6qv4T42o/T4tgQzoyluI/AAAAAAAAAt8/MGj7OgUuhqo/s400/Old+truck.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An old truck rusting away</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Looks more like a sheep ranch than a campground. I go up to what
appears to be the living quarters and knock. Nothing. Then I walk around the
area looking for the camping area and find a kitchen, showers and a eating area
but still no humans. The showers have hot water and the stove has gas so what
the hell lets set up camp! Through the course of setting up camp we meet a dog,
a cat and a rooster. They will all conspire against me getting good nights
sleep. The dog is cool. We become good friends and my guess is if there was
sheep around the dog would do a good job herding them. He is very accomplished
in cat herding and herding chickens.
Walking around we find a old bus that was once used as a apartment, an
old 1940 vintage truck and the ground is littered with what appears to be a red
onyx looking rock and jade.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b9hPgT4RtF0/T4th_anRNrI/AAAAAAAAAuU/Q3B-AYfMOz8/s1600/View+from+camp+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b9hPgT4RtF0/T4th_anRNrI/AAAAAAAAAuU/Q3B-AYfMOz8/s640/View+from+camp+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from our camp</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This part of the Pampas reminds me of far western
Colorado and Utah. A rejuvenated valley with buttes in the distance. The wind
blows here all the time. But we find a somewhat protected area to set the tents
up. Missing Max.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday March 3rd<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I mentioned before, the dog (who I thought was my friend
until he pissed on my tent) and the rooster (who began crowing way before day
break) kept me from getting a good nights sleep.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eKLPbW0oOo0/T4tiY5lE--I/AAAAAAAAAuc/uz4zM6keZQ0/s1600/The+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eKLPbW0oOo0/T4tiY5lE--I/AAAAAAAAAuc/uz4zM6keZQ0/s400/The+dog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dog</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I awake to the wonderful smell
of fresh pressed coffee coming from the kitchen where John is busy making his
breakfast. Looking around the area
I still can’t find any sign of life. After a walk with my pissy dog friend
around the ranch we gear up get ready to go. I start my day by dropping the GS
while getting it off the center stand. This is becoming so common I’ve quit
taking pictures of the bike on the ground. John and I take the short ride to
the park and are greeted by a very friendly ranger who speaks no English.
Through sigh language he explains the rules and shows us the trails to take.
I’ve been through numerous petrified forests in my time but never have I seen
one this impressive! These are trees 3’to 6’ in diameter that had been blown
down and covered with ash from a nearby volcano, preserving them just the way
they looked when they fell. Even the putrefied wood chips around them looked
like wood. We see some large foxes while walking back to the park entrance and
have a final look at the museum then hit the dirt. The road west begins as a
one lane 2 track gravel road and winds in and out of the rolling hills
surrounding us.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BFUJ49kyq1w/T4tjCEwHTAI/AAAAAAAAAuk/dCr7cMneNmo/s1600/camp+apt..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BFUJ49kyq1w/T4tjCEwHTAI/AAAAAAAAAuk/dCr7cMneNmo/s400/camp+apt..jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mobile home at the camp</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The wind is blowing so hard it knocks my bike while it’s sitting
on it’s side stand. We begin to see small herds of Guanacos (a relative of the
Lama) and some Rheas (large Ostrich looking birds). As we ride further west the
Guanaco herds get larger, some having as many as 50. They are everywhere and
scatter when I ride near them. We also see a few very wild looking horses out
there. Highway 49 eventually intersects with highway 12, a two lane gravel road
that leads us into Gobernador Gregores (another town named after someone I
never heard of). There we gas up and find a room for the night. Long day: 200
miles and it’s 7PM by the time we find the hotel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Long day 200 miles on gravel<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gas and hotel by 7<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today we push for El Chaten. El Chaten is known for its
glaciers and rugged peaks. It’s a small place with lots of hiking and on very
famous peak, Fitz Roy, named after the captain of the Beagle (the ship that
took Darwin on his voyage). Before leaving we were told by a number of people
to avoid Ruta 40 and take a longer route around. This runs contrary to my thinking as the 40 route is much shorter but one
thing I have learned is to listen when locals speak so off we go down <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ruta 27. The first 80 miles is newly paved and a joy to ride
on.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-be4zjBaCHq8/T8UeOtG--OI/AAAAAAAAAxw/IWTWgvOPrO0/s1600/Last+turn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-be4zjBaCHq8/T8UeOtG--OI/AAAAAAAAAxw/IWTWgvOPrO0/s640/Last+turn.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That faithfull turn that ended my ride</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Then we turn west on 288 and find it a bit more challenging (an obvious understatement).
The gravel is deep and unpredictable and the going is slow.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fK1XJ2rCwAE/T8Uer_nt0zI/AAAAAAAAAx4/edJTKbeoaZQ/s1600/gravel+road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fK1XJ2rCwAE/T8Uer_nt0zI/AAAAAAAAAx4/edJTKbeoaZQ/s400/gravel+road.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
After a while the
road narrows and the gravel thins out a bit and I pick up my pace. Not much to
see out here on the Pampas other than the Guanacos and some Cows. While bombing
along in a wheel tract doing around 50 a rather large monument catches my eye
off to my left. Glancing over my shoulder was just the distraction need to turn
my front wheel into the gravel berm along side the wheel track I was in and in
a flash the bike was sideways and I was airborne! It was, what we call in the
Moto world, the classic high side. The big old bike actually must have flipped
in the air before landing too close to me. I, myself, hit the ground so hard I
could not breath, not even a small breath, for what seemed like minutes. Once I
came around to my senses I took inventory. I could wiggle my toes, move my legs
and had no neck or head pain but I couldn’t move my right arm or shoulder.
After some time I became aware that my collar bone was obviously broken.
Shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
John showed up a number of minutes later (boy does time slow
down when you are laying in the road writhing in pain). Alls I can say is “I’m
so sorry I fucked up the trip”. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well that moment was the last of the riding part of the trip
but certainly not the end of the adventure. After some 30 minutes or more John
flags down a passing truck (only 1 of 3 we have seen all day). I didn’t know it
then but the driver of the truck was none other than Saint Carlos! Well John
and Carlos cleaned up the debris
and stashed the bike while I sat helplessly watching from the truck. Carlos
then drove me to a hospital in Peidra <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Buena 3 hours away. About 30 miles outside of town the
gravel turned to new pavement and, if I could have, I would have crawled out of
the truck and kissed the ground! Once in Peidra Carlos would not leave my side
until he was sure I was being taken care of properly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br /></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-71661899097314040382012-02-18T06:12:00.001-08:002012-04-10T15:45:57.489-07:00BACK INTO THE 1ST WORLDIn a previous eposode I dropped my camera in a river. This is why I'm lacking pictures of Banos and Cuenca Ecuador. Maybe if Briner would share his I could fill in some blanks.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Saturday Jan 21<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A nice short ride today (actually I can’t remember the last
long ride we have taken). We leave the lush jungle of the Amazon and begin
climbing back into the Andes. We ride through the town of Shell. Shell Oil
built this town but when none of their wells produced they abandoned the town
and airstrip. Then the missionaries came in and began flying further into the
Amazon from here. A number of years ago 5 Missionaries from here flew into the
Amazon, landed on a sandbar and were promptly speared to death. I guess the
locals didn’t like what they heard.
Anyway the building they had lived in is somewhat a shrine to the other
missionaries in the area. From there we followed a river canyon towards Banos.
About 20 miles out of Banos the road gets interesting and we ride through a
series of tunnels, some very narrow.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6yQ5zU7hOhQ/T0Q4qPmGxdI/AAAAAAAAAiM/El23CUJ6pCk/s1600/Talopia+farmer+Banos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6yQ5zU7hOhQ/T0Q4qPmGxdI/AAAAAAAAAiM/El23CUJ6pCk/s400/Talopia+farmer+Banos.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max, John and the Talopia Guy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Not as much fun now that they have
installed lights. Last time I was through them we were driving these little
dune buggy things that had no lights into these dark tunnels with trucks and
busses coming at us and bearing down from behind. Kind of scary! Coming into
town I began recognizing the layout from last time we were here and went
straight to the hostel Max and Sara stayed at (Princessa Maria). We knew from
before it was a good hostel with parking for the bikes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we pulled up the owner and his son were there at the
gate waiting for us so we pulled right in. The owner recognized Max from before
which is quite amazing judging by the number of people that pass through here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sunday<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were awakened early
(4:30) by the hoards of people setting up the Sunday market, located
right outside our window. I don’t remember mentioning it before but everyone in
Latin America has a car alarm and I don’t think any of them know how to turn
the alarms off! It get pretty load down here at times. Anyhow John and I go out
looking for a good cup of Jo with no luck. Nothing opens until 8:30. Finally we
find a lousy cup of coffee served with a lousy breakfast. Off to a bad start of
the day. Today I catch up on the blog and photos. 6 hours later (I type slow)
I’m finally caught up! Now it’s time to find a bar with a big screen and 49’ers game. John and I go looking but
it being Sunday hardly any bars are open. We find one with a small TV showing
soccer and decide to give it a try. The owners we very accommodating even
though we got some dirty looks from some locals. I must mention the crazy cop. Still not sure what this guy
was about but he was sitting with a number of others at the table next to our and
judging by the number of empties on their table they must have been hammered.
He kept coming over to our table smiling and babbling on in Spanish shacking
our hands and showing us a card showing he was a police officer. Each time he
came over he was more animated than the last. Shortly before leaving he stopped
by wanting to shack hands with each of us and giving us all a kiss on our
cheek. Had this been the US it would have been obvious what he wanted but down
here I think he just wanted to pass along some good feelings towards the
visitors. The TV was very small (by today’s standards) and it all was in
Spanish, but we were able to kind of follow the game. Heartbreak! The 9ers
lose.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Monday Jan 23<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Travel day. While packing up the bikes at our hostel a guy
comes up to me and says, ” Good morning, how is your wife?” I wasn’t sure how this guy was
and being the suspicious type I went on guard for some sort of scam. I replied
my wife is good and he must have seen by my expression I had no idea who he
was. “Do you remember me from the Archipelago?” he says. I’m thinking
“Archipelago, Archipelago, why does this sound familiar?” then it hits me, the
Archipelago was the name of the boat we were on 2 years ago in the Galapagos.
Turns out this was Enrico, the guy who was assigned to Charlotte to help her on
the hikes because of her bad foot. I had told him my son and I were planning on
riding our bikes down here from Alaska in a few years. So when he saw our bikes
and Max and I he put it all together and recognized me. What a small world! He
is still sailing around the Galapagos but was between trips and on the mainland
visiting his girlfriend. We had a good visit then it was time for us shove off.
Max (who is perpetually starving on this trip ) wanted breakfast before
leaving. But alas nothing was open. Leaving town I missed a turn and we ended
up on a road heading north. But we eventually got back on track without losing
too much time.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GSNY1DJjmNk/T0RFGk_JDWI/AAAAAAAAAiU/l4Ger7uzHis/s1600/Ecuador+countryside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GSNY1DJjmNk/T0RFGk_JDWI/AAAAAAAAAiU/l4Ger7uzHis/s400/Ecuador+countryside.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Banos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The first part of the road is pretty spectacular winding its way
high above a river valley then turns ho hum with small towns and speed bumps.
Somewhere south of Riobamba our trouble started. First we stop at a little
resturant with a Soup Nazi like cook. After and lousy lunch he turns around and
charges us $14 for the meal which should have cost us maybe $8. Shortly after
leaving max gets a flat rear tire (1<sup>st</sup> of the trip). So we jump into
action. Surly Max will have a spare tube with all his shit. Not! Just a spare
front tube. An hour later we had a new tire with a patched tube back on the
bike ready to go with me yelling at Max to forget fine tuning his chain and
let’s get out of here (we were on the side of the Pan American Highway with a
very narrow shoulder)! While
getting my bike off the stand it falls over for the umphteenth time. This
causes me to vow to get this shitty kickstand fixed at my first opportunity
(remember this, it plays into the story later).<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xczQ2dqm1ak/T0RFwXOh4VI/AAAAAAAAAic/ekuIVOymN4M/s1600/Max+and+donkey+Ecuador.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xczQ2dqm1ak/T0RFwXOh4VI/AAAAAAAAAic/ekuIVOymN4M/s640/Max+and+donkey+Ecuador.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like this shot of Max taking a picture and a woman with her donkey walk by</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As we continue on I also notice
my clutch acting weird, especially riding through towns. At first I think it’s
in my head but it got progressively worse as the day went until it was slipping
badly. We pulled into Cuenca just as the light was beginning to fade. Dufas
wasn’t working so we winged it toward the center of the city during rush hour.
I stopped at the first hostel I found but they couldn’t provide safe parking
for the bikes. So goes the routine. John stays with the bikes and Max and I go
looking for a place on foot. We walked up to the next corner turned left and
bingo, there was Carolines Bookstore. Charlotte and I found this place 2 years
ago when we were in Cuenca. It is the hub, information center and hang out for
all the expats down here. They were just closing but I caught the owner just as
he was walking out. He suggested a place right across the street. The owner was
just coming out of the hostel and informed us yes she had room and yes she had
parking! Amazing how easy it is sometimes. That night I put a post on Adventure
Rider asking about BMW shops in Ecuador
that might be able to replace a clutch. I also sent the BMW shop in
Guayaquil an email asking about parts availability. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tuesday<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
John and I are up and out looking for coffee at 7. No luck
with the coffee that early but we do have a good walk around the old part of
town. Cuenca is a UNESCO heritage
site and has an incredible historic district dating back to the 1500’s. The
main square is very old with large building surrounding it covered with ornate designs. After walking around until 9 we finally found a coffee shop open.<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--Vuq0b17ZRw/T0RHS-O5M0I/AAAAAAAAAik/o3nabOqX22M/s1600/Cuenca+Coffeeshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--Vuq0b17ZRw/T0RHS-O5M0I/AAAAAAAAAik/o3nabOqX22M/s400/Cuenca+Coffeeshop.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Wednesday Jan 25<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Max’s bike is ready. A nice birthday present for him. John
and I tour the Panama hat factory. More of a store than a factory but still
interesting. We go to dinner at a Mexican restaurant run by an old folk hippy
that plays nothing but old Beatles music on the stereo. But what catches my eye
is the quart of Hendricks Gin on the shelf. Gin is a rare commodity down here
and Hendricks is unheard of! When the waiter, who is also the son of the owner,
asks what I want to drink, with out hesitation, I respond “Hendricks, with a
splash of tonic”. “Not possible” is his response. Por Que? Is my response. “This
is a special gift for my farther and is not for sell”. Are you kidding me? It’s
sitting out here for all to see and I can’t have one cocktail? “No”. All right I’ll
have a Tanquary instead. “No, this also is a special gift for my father” at
this I would not take no for an answer and after the son consulted with his
hippy father it was agreed to allow me one T&T this evening. After dinner
Max wants to have some birthday shot so we stop in at a bar and order two shots
of tequila. $14! Unbelievable!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thursday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the rode 8:30. Cloudy but not too much fog. Heading for
the border. The Ktm is still running like shit at altidtude but the road is great and we are having fun. we wind up over many
passes and the surrounding hills reminds me of the alps.Lots of switch backs keeps the ride interesting. We then turn south toward the border and the road
turns to shit. After our lunch stop we decide not to cross border until tomorrow. I stopped to take some pictures and we all got a bit spread out for awhile. Riding alone was kind of nice. I found myself much more relaxed not having to check the mirrors every few minutes (this is a self imposed habit I have developed stemming from Johns lack of experence and Max's lack of a dependable bike). My worries about my previous clutch worries have evaporated and all is good at this moment in time. We arrive
at the Peru border around 5. We find a hostel in the town of Macara, kind of a sleepy, grungie town but not as bad as other
borders. What made this town more interesting was that it had an airstrip right in the middle of town. Max and I go out to see what this place is about and finds his coconut. I'm too tired to eat much so I just snack on some peanuts and go to bed.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After herding the cats this morning we get to the border
around 8:45. Exiting Ecuador was a breeze. No lines and good directions got the
bikes and us out of there in 15 minutes. We crossed the bridge into Peru and
were met by officials who directed us where to park, where to go for our
passport entry stamps and where to go to import our bikes, all within stones
throw from each other.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KRpBe9VEJHs/T0Q4HlEhnfI/AAAAAAAAAiE/YNy2R8yTtBw/s1600/Welcome+to+Preu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KRpBe9VEJHs/T0Q4HlEhnfI/AAAAAAAAAiE/YNy2R8yTtBw/s400/Welcome+to+Preu.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
When I began the import process the guy tells me we need
insurance before starting the paper work and points to where we have to go.
Again just stones throw away. We all go get the insurance and while we are gone
the official actually takes the initiative and gets all our VIN numbers of the
bikes saving us the time to go out with him and get them. This might seem
trivial but after somewhere around 9 border crossings this is the first time I
would call the process efficient! All and all I was completely done in under an
hour and all of us were through in less than an hour and a half. A new record
unlikely to be beat on this trip! The ride today took us South from Macara
through Loja over to Sullana ending at a little fishing/ Surfing town Pinental.
This town appears not to have it’s potential yet. It has everything it needs to
prosper as a tourist destination except the infrastructure. A great beach with
good surf. Good climate and lots of restaurants. What it lacks are hotels of
hostels. The one hotel by the beach we checked out has been converted to a few
offices and a number of banos’. The place reeked of urine! The only other hotel
looked as if it was moved from some war zone in the Middle East. Broken
windows, doors missing etc.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t5ZP1RxSZnA/T0RL7H7GjGI/AAAAAAAAAis/vOMUTIKWWZ0/s1600/Piramid+digs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t5ZP1RxSZnA/T0RL7H7GjGI/AAAAAAAAAis/vOMUTIKWWZ0/s400/Piramid+digs.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our own pyramid for the night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
On our first reconnaissance of the area we passed
by a communal looking place a ways from the main beach area. It looked as though
some acidhead had an idea years ago of building a commune on the beach.
Unfortunately the drugs and the booze kind of stymied any hope of finishing the
project. Well it turns out this will be our only hope of lodging here. For $8
apiece we get our very own bamboo/Concrete pyramid. Very rustic but did have a
toilet, although no running water. The owner spiced up the deal with a offer of
a cerviche dish and one free beer each at his restaurant on the beach so we had
a deal! The restaurant was a small disappointment. We had to order 3 times
before the order actually went in and they also tried to stick us with the
cerviche dish.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dnE050Y6YPg/T0RXoqmy62I/AAAAAAAAAi0/yQjjoUMAcTA/s1600/Piramid+reatuarant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dnE050Y6YPg/T0RXoqmy62I/AAAAAAAAAi0/yQjjoUMAcTA/s320/Piramid+reatuarant.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; clear: left; color: black; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dnE050Y6YPg/T0RXoqmy62I/AAAAAAAAAi0/yQjjoUMAcTA/s1600/Piramid+reatuarant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">W</a>aiting for the bill</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But to give them the benefit of the doubt this may be there busy
night. After all there were three of us in there! There were no screens or any
kind of bug protection in the pyramid so fortunately it was cool enough to
completely immerse my body in my bag liner for protection. Mr. Briner didn’t
fair as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Up with the sun and rode to the main beach area for
breakfast. Ummm, instant coffee and scrambled eggs. Max went for a jog in
search of internet. More KTM business. After losing his air mixture screw the
mechanic in Cuenca plugged it with a regular screw and the bike is suffering
for it. Hopefully we’ll remedy that in Lima. After breakfast we went back to
the compound to settle up on dinner the night before and after another ½ hour
we are back on the rode riding south. Today we ride down to another surfing
town of Huanchaco that we heard was kind of laid back. We quickly found a nice
hotel, if not a little over budget. Not much to write about. A good shower,
good dinner and a comfortable room. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The push for Lima….
We get an early start for Lima but Dufas’s maps aren’t working well in
Peru. I make the mistake of trying to follow the GPS route out of town, which
is a straight diagonal line through the middle of Trujillo. After a half hour
of dodging one-way streets and dead ends I find our way to the Panamerican Sur
and we are off and running.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BPwXBhsMgrY/T0RYn5yVtpI/AAAAAAAAAi8/jFntxwAJQ14/s1600/Preu+Coast+north.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BPwXBhsMgrY/T0RYn5yVtpI/AAAAAAAAAi8/jFntxwAJQ14/s400/Preu+Coast+north.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the Peruvian Coast</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The scenery has change to dry arid sand with small
dunes all around us. The ride is going well and it looks like we will get to
Lima around 3. Even after getting pulled over twice by Peruvian Cop (the
crooked type) it still look good for a 4:00 arrival. We had been warned by numerous people about the cops in Peru
but beings how we had made it this far without problems I was beginning to
think they had exaggerated the stories. We found out different. With Max
leading we came up over a rise and there were 2 cops waving us over. They told
us we had crossed the double line while passing a truck. Well, the truth be
known, we had and whether or not they actually saw it was beside the point. All
they wanted was lunch money (they actually said as much). So after playing the
game we ended up giving them about $20 and went on our way only to be stopped
again for speeding.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hpWD--RClsg/T0RZD61uU1I/AAAAAAAAAjE/PnBp6yebzmQ/s1600/Preuvian+moto+Gang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hpWD--RClsg/T0RZD61uU1I/AAAAAAAAAjE/PnBp6yebzmQ/s400/Preuvian+moto+Gang.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some Peruvian Moto guys we met at a gas stop. All are riding<br />
Chinese 650 v twins</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Again Max was at the lead and a cop was going the other
way. He motioned to me to slow down, which I did but somewhere down the road
turned around, lights flashing and pulled us over. This time we played it
differently, telling them to write us the ticket and we would pay it in Lima.
“No can pay in Lima, you must go back to Trujillo”. This would mean going all
the way back to where we started the day. Max then ask him what proof they had.
Did they have radar? That’s when he pulls out a video camera and shows Max the
video of them following him showing Max in front then scanning down to the
speedometer showing a speed over the limit. “ Are you kidding? This only shows
you were over the limit not Max”. Anyway this went on for a ½ hour or so.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mHQ7RuWcOa0/T0VsD1AIBpI/AAAAAAAAAkU/d02FaPKkwfo/s1600/reststop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mHQ7RuWcOa0/T0VsD1AIBpI/AAAAAAAAAkU/d02FaPKkwfo/s320/reststop.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rest stop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
These
guys playing good cop, bad cop and not very well I might add. Finally we out
lasted them and the good cop tells the bad cop to forget it and let them go.
Max was determined not to pay these guys anything as was I but my resolve was
fading and I was actually going for my wallet when they decided to end the game
and let us go.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E5a1SDOnC94/T0VpXfxBU2I/AAAAAAAAAkE/ZIg5OBrTQPk/s1600/Peru+Cop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E5a1SDOnC94/T0VpXfxBU2I/AAAAAAAAAkE/ZIg5OBrTQPk/s400/Peru+Cop.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max and John talking to the "Good Cop"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After flying into Lima to meet Charlotte a number of weeks
before I had a fairly bad impression as to what we were riding into. From the
air Lima looks like a desert wasteland covered by adobe shacks and small
streets. It really looks as if my ultimate nightmare is about to unfold today.
On the way there we stopped for fuel and met 5 or 6 guys riding these 650 Chinese
v twins ala Harley style. They were a friendly bunch of guys who helped us out
on directions. One guy kept saying “ whatever you do don’t go here or don’t go
there, too dangerous!” I wish I
paid a little more attention but I never did figure out where he was talking
about. At about 4:30 we are just getting to the outskirts of Lima and I notice
Max and John are no longer with me. Turning back I find them a few miles bake
on the side of the road.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2UmxbpsVYzs/T0Vrg_0aRrI/AAAAAAAAAkM/eyrxZmZm3mI/s1600/Max+Flat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2UmxbpsVYzs/T0Vrg_0aRrI/AAAAAAAAAkM/eyrxZmZm3mI/s400/Max+Flat.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max fixing his 2nd flat in as many weeks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Max has gotten his second flat of the trip. This time
we have a new tube to put on and we are back on the rode within 45 minutes. As
we ride into Lima from the north my first impressions are realized. It is
abject poverty. People living in these small one-room adobe shacks crowed
together forming various barrios. But as we get nearer to our destination of
Mears Flores the city becomes more and more modern until we could be riding in
the suburbs of Los Angles. By the time it became dark we had found a hostel to
stay at and another one for our bikes. Oh yea I almost forgot to mention I was
sick all day. We went out for dinner and all I could stomach was a frozen fruit
smoothie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wigfFb4EvpA/T0VtN-FAAEI/AAAAAAAAAkc/A59H1HrerMw/s1600/Miraflores+Lima.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wigfFb4EvpA/T0VtN-FAAEI/AAAAAAAAAkc/A59H1HrerMw/s400/Miraflores+Lima.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Down the street from where we stayed in Miraflores Lima</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Monday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ah, another KTM day!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After much research we find that there are two KTM dealers
in Lima. We go in search of the first one. Turns out google maps had the pin on
the wrong street and we have to get a cab to follow to find the correct one 4
miles back through town. The shop is located in an unmarked warehouse that
houses a bank of computers and people working away on “KTM business”. A number
of new bikes are scattered around but we figure it’s just for show as a cover
to whatever the primary business is. Long story short the guy is a prick and no
help at all. Next we go the BMW shop and get a new front tire for me. Very
expensive but available. Next we go to another shop that has been recommended
to us on the outside chance they may have KTM parts. It’s a small shop but they
do have a KTM, same year and motor as Max’s. We try our best to talk the guy
into pulling the airscrew off of their bike and using it on Max’s bike but are
told it’s not their bike. That doesn’t stop us from working the poor guy over.
Finally the owner shows up. Ricardo is a big Austrian look guy who races bikes
here in Peru. Must be pretty good since he’s been champion 3 years running.
After awhile he begins to warm up to us and takes a real interest in our
problem. After a few phone calls and conferences with his mechanic he tells us
not to worry he’ll fix everything. Max’s KTM John’s broken pannier bracket and
they will even mount my new front tire. To good to be true, stayed tuned…. So
we grab a cab back to Meriflores to a mall Ricardo recommended for food.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a1IGYUe_lZ0/T0VtsiNn8II/AAAAAAAAAkk/FUV2Saoj0uc/s1600/Sculpter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a1IGYUe_lZ0/T0VtsiNn8II/AAAAAAAAAkk/FUV2Saoj0uc/s640/Sculpter.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My attempt at art. A sculpture with two paragliders sailing by</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Miraflores is an upscale part of town that sits high on a bluff overlooking the
ocean. This mall is amazing! It’s built below the cliff so when you drive or
walk by it you don’t see it. Once you walk down to it it’s like you are
suspended over the ocean. It’s got a number of very nice restaurants but one
catches our eye.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qfuuGSR7IhU/T0VuV3ei2tI/AAAAAAAAAks/s7Xv4SQz_Cw/s1600/Lima+boardwalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qfuuGSR7IhU/T0VuV3ei2tI/AAAAAAAAAks/s7Xv4SQz_Cw/s400/Lima+boardwalk.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More Meraflores</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Tony Romas! After months in 3<sup>rd</sup> world countries
eating only local food the chance to eat at an American chain was truly
overwhelming. Of course I am still a little punky but manage to eat something
small while watching John and Max chow down a couple of good looking steaks.
While dinning a couple of parasailers drift by then a couple of more until they
are flying all around us. This gets both Max and John salivating to go fly so
after lunch we walk over to where they are launching. The launch is is pretty
simple. One, two and you are totally committed over the cliff! Once up you just
begin climbing and they can soar back and forth along the cliff at ease. They
land where they take off from so no climbing or transport needed. My kind of
operation! The boys are stoked to fly! Unfortunately the following afternoon
provides no wind and lots of fog, so no go. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tuesday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Max and I walk to mall and grab some coffee. Next we grab a
cab to take us all the way across town to the BMW dealer where yours truly left
his debit card then back to Motoperformance for the bikes. They are all ready
and clean! For Max’s bike they found an airscrew for another bike, took it to a
machine shop and turned it to match the original screw exactly (they did pull
the original screw out of the KTM they had on consignment to get the specs
from). All and all Max’s bike cost $40, mine $15 and Johns $20. Got to love
labor rates down here! Another great dinner at the mall and another hole in my
budget!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Some pictures...</b><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kU30B1PCuIY/T0VvDPq5hhI/AAAAAAAAAk0/5DcyqNDezBs/s1600/riding+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kU30B1PCuIY/T0VvDPq5hhI/AAAAAAAAAk0/5DcyqNDezBs/s640/riding+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pn8Gbgka5GA/T0VvM1O0VTI/AAAAAAAAAk8/OgpmSVIBLIo/s1600/riding+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pn8Gbgka5GA/T0VvM1O0VTI/AAAAAAAAAk8/OgpmSVIBLIo/s640/riding+3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9s9xLK0Yy4E/T0VvW3LccBI/AAAAAAAAAlE/JWuqHiAqa-Q/s1600/riding+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9s9xLK0Yy4E/T0VvW3LccBI/AAAAAAAAAlE/JWuqHiAqa-Q/s640/riding+4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b><br />
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</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CYoCL5f_0FM/T0VwBxQlW4I/AAAAAAAAAlM/QIGfw0d44Q8/s1600/riding+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CYoCL5f_0FM/T0VwBxQlW4I/AAAAAAAAAlM/QIGfw0d44Q8/s640/riding+5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g8dkODNxQ_Y/T0VwK70rnWI/AAAAAAAAAlU/o3tDk-OJMrA/s1600/riding+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g8dkODNxQ_Y/T0VwK70rnWI/AAAAAAAAAlU/o3tDk-OJMrA/s640/riding+6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-27zkpSerwpU/T0VwXNfuPKI/AAAAAAAAAlc/XbZy9xuxwxA/s1600/riding+picture+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-27zkpSerwpU/T0VwXNfuPKI/AAAAAAAAAlc/XbZy9xuxwxA/s640/riding+picture+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
More trouble getting out of town. Dufas just doesn’t get
Peru. Finally we are back on the Panamerican Sur . It’s foggy and cold by the
coast but begins to warm up as we go inland. The sand dunes eventually give way
to vineyards.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rvbp44uF-iI/T0VxVAkgrJI/AAAAAAAAAlk/EKauMRywsGw/s1600/Jay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rvbp44uF-iI/T0VxVAkgrJI/AAAAAAAAAlk/EKauMRywsGw/s400/Jay.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jay, a fellow rider who rode with us for a few days</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At our lunch stop a fellow bike rider from California spots us
and stops in for a chat. Jay has been riding his 650 GS alone and is on his way
to Brazil to live for a few months. Since he’s going our way he asks if he
could ride with us. “Hell Yes” we all respond a little too fast. I’m guessing
we could all use some new blood around the campfire. Our route takes us past
the Nazca Lines (the lines in the desert that can be seen from space). No one
knows for sure the significance of the lines but best guess is that some Pre
Inca people put them there to try to communicate with their gods. It really is
amazing that these marks in the sand (really just scratched in the dirt) a
thousand years ago and still can be seen from the 100-meter tower we climbed
up.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vabd0GaPKoc/T0VxuU9EzgI/AAAAAAAAAls/vnh1i7iJ0hc/s1600/Nasca+Lines+sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vabd0GaPKoc/T0VxuU9EzgI/AAAAAAAAAls/vnh1i7iJ0hc/s400/Nasca+Lines+sign.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The big business is taking you up in a plane and seeing the whole thing
from the air but since this is a motorcycle trip not a flying trip we declined
the numerous offers we got. We found a place in Nazca for the night (actually
they found us. We hadn’t even made it through the first intersection when a guy
pulls up and leads us to his hotel). That’s how it works in these tourist
towns. While looking for a place to eat we are approached by Edwin, the owner
of the towns “finest restaurant’. He even offers us a money back guarantee if
we don’t like the food. It turns out to be a great choice and we end up with
Edwin at our table with tells of his vast travels around the world.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZLia-ejnj2c/T0VyBWv9ggI/AAAAAAAAAl0/vhr8_6r1f1k/s1600/Nasca+Lines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZLia-ejnj2c/T0VyBWv9ggI/AAAAAAAAAl0/vhr8_6r1f1k/s400/Nasca+Lines.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nasca Lines</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He has
lived in India, Afghanistan, America, Europe and Asia. He has had a different
wife in each country and catered to the Dakar people this year. He had to
provide tents, tables, chairs, food and wine to 200 people out in the middle of
the desert. He even had pictures to proof it! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thursday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today we all sleep in a little and Max cooks us breakfast.
Max keeps insisting that there is no way to cook breakfast (a meal he can’t
miss) and still leave early. He has proved this time and time again!). Max is
also now on a hunt for KTM parts. His starter is going out again and we are
back to push starting the bike again. After calling numerous shops he finds one
in Chillan, Chile that claims to have what we think we need.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wFy-5OWODVI/T0V0IJSe-zI/AAAAAAAAAl8/OkWqP9E-N6Y/s1600/Highway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wFy-5OWODVI/T0V0IJSe-zI/AAAAAAAAAl8/OkWqP9E-N6Y/s400/Highway.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
So we set our
sights on Chile! Either the bike is running better or the team is getting
better at push starting but I haven’t had to do a pull start since the last
starter gave out. We ride down the coast on Ruta 1 to Camana. Camana looked
like a cool beach town but riding through it proved to be just another dirty,
dusty town with no soul. About the time I gave up on it and began riding out of
town a couple of sportbikes ride up and beckon us to follow them. We followed
them a couple of miles south of town then turn towards the beach and there it
is .the “beach town”. The riders own one of the bars there and show us to a
nice hotel nearby. After fleshing up we walk back to the bar (actually just a
shack on the beach the serves beer and whisky). I order up a shot of tequila
and some guy runs across the street and brings one back for me. And so went the
night….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today we run for the border. More desert riding. Jay is
still with us adding a bit of newness to the trip. We rode into the town of
Tacna. We decide to stay here for the night and make for the border first thing
in the morning. We stop to check out some hostels but they don’t have secure
parking so we decide to head to the central part of town and guess whose bike
won’t start?<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LN9K-KMHG98/T0V01LssyaI/AAAAAAAAAmE/mlJBRYHjVNc/s1600/Honda+shop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LN9K-KMHG98/T0V01LssyaI/AAAAAAAAAmE/mlJBRYHjVNc/s400/Honda+shop.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another stop for the KTM</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
OK try again… That’s right the KTM is dead. No juice in the
battery. Now I didn’t slam my helmet down this time but did use a few choice
words to describe my inner most feelings of the situation. Then rode off in
search of a hotel with parking. I hadn’t ridden 2 blocks when I spied a hotel
and a Honda shop a block away. It being close to closing time I quickly
returned to the scene of the crime and told Max to start pushing the KTM to the
Honda shop. At the shop they tested the battery and decided that was the
problem. They had a new one and all was well, although I had questions about
the charging system, which would prove right later the next day. John and Jay
found us a place with parking in a garage a few blocks away so all was good
again. John also found a Hoff Brau and brewpub in the Lonely Planet so that’s
where we headed. We new the street but not what end of town but the cabbie took
a guess and landed us at the doorsteps.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZVY5hoNLuBg/T0V1O-v5QkI/AAAAAAAAAmM/ttqJr6NIgF4/s1600/view+from+Hotel+window.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZVY5hoNLuBg/T0V1O-v5QkI/AAAAAAAAAmM/ttqJr6NIgF4/s400/view+from+Hotel+window.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from our hotel. Cool art on a hill.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Well they had tons of beers on display
but unfortunately only had one in stock. And no roast beef sandwiches! Down
here I guess you can call yourself anything you want and get away with it.
Across the street there was a fancy hotel and restaurant so that’s where we
ate. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Saturday Feb 4<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Border crossing today and as usual I’m feeling a little
stressed. Even though we have moved from the 3<sup>rd</sup> world into the 2<sup>nd</sup>
world the borders still stress me out. Maybe it’s the bad memories from Central
America, I don’t know. Anyway it’s the usual breakfast fight with Max and a
later start than I wanted but we are at the border around 11. This is a very
friendly border but with lots more paperwork than usual. While going through
the process a couple pulled up on a KLR.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KgNhwN-t4bw/T0YdUVoRiaI/AAAAAAAAAmU/nR6LuShsmEs/s1600/More+desert+sculpures.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KgNhwN-t4bw/T0YdUVoRiaI/AAAAAAAAAmU/nR6LuShsmEs/s640/More+desert+sculpures.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2 more desert sculptures. No idea what they mean</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EbcZE-TzW5k/T4S16pA2rEI/AAAAAAAAArM/o7ufBeMPdaI/s1600/Southern+Peru,+Ruta+5.+Brilliant+morning+sky+scape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EbcZE-TzW5k/T4S16pA2rEI/AAAAAAAAArM/o7ufBeMPdaI/s320/Southern+Peru,+Ruta+5.+Brilliant+morning+sky+scape.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Paula and Noel are from Vancouver BC
and had shipped their bike down to Lima. What a nightmare they have been
through. It took a week to clear customs with the bike then while they were in
Puno Peru they got their tank bag stolen. No big deal except all their
documents, cameras, laptop and other important things were in it. They eventually
got most of their documents but not the cameras or laptop. Oh yea and they lost
a GPS. After we all cleared customs we all drove into Arica to get a bit to
eat. While sitting at the restaurant I pull out my iphone and noted we had just
had a time zone change. 2 hours! Shit it was now 4:30 in the afternoon, which
meant time to find lodging. Oh well today we rode a whooping 30 miles! So one
beer turned to two and then we went looking for a hostel. Now we are 5 motos
roaming around a strange city.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1V4CdGHyCsM/T4S2tBy_3uI/AAAAAAAAArc/Mh0tLjSCZAw/s1600/towing+the+ktm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1V4CdGHyCsM/T4S2tBy_3uI/AAAAAAAAArc/Mh0tLjSCZAw/s640/towing+the+ktm.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah yes, a familiar site, towing the KTM in Arica</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We finally find a sleazy looking hostel that
turns out to be pretty nice once you get through the dirty façade of the
building and they have parking! We have been spoiled in both Colombia and Peru
as bikes were exempt from rode tolls.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-edC9HTrZPtk/T0YeGhWzI1I/AAAAAAAAAmc/Iei7PHDQRjA/s1600/Bomb+site.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-edC9HTrZPtk/T0YeGhWzI1I/AAAAAAAAAmc/Iei7PHDQRjA/s400/Bomb+site.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think we made a wrong turn!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
All the major highways down here are toll
roads. But now in Chile we have to pay! Works out to about $15 a day and the
hassle of stopping and having to dig the money out while straddling a Moto with
gloves on. Oh well, it pays for these beautiful highways which makes it almost
worthwhile. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sunday 5<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Breakfast at hotel and on the road at 10. We say goodbye to
our new friends from Vancouver and ride on down the coast to Tocopilla. On the
way we encounter an aduanas (customs station) in the middle of nowhere. As is
our usual practice, when coming up to a government station where it’s a police
roadblock or an agricultural check station we just slow down and continue on by
unless someone starts to yell. Well Max was leading the way and went on through
with me following. A guy comes running out yelling his fool head off so I stop.
Max keeps going. Now the guy is really pissed!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cj4rxUyeObc/T0Ye5VJxk-I/AAAAAAAAAms/WKAMUhOFz1k/s1600/Jay+and+John+at+overlook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cj4rxUyeObc/T0Ye5VJxk-I/AAAAAAAAAms/WKAMUhOFz1k/s640/Jay+and+John+at+overlook.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A great view of the valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He begins to take it out on me
but I through it right back at him, in English. Fortunately he doesn’t
understand a word I’m saying and visa versa for me. Max eventually turns around
and we have to go through the customs thing again. Twice in two days. No
biggie. Our papers are all in order and we are not carrying panniers full of
guns and drugs so they let us go. It’s more dry coast running and getting drier
as we get farther into the Atacoma. We rode the city of Iquique where Bob and
Julie Burtons daughter Alexis lived for a number of months studying Spanish.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XuEQzKjCWyM/T0YfXdGEhNI/AAAAAAAAAm0/Yo1iOBkC7ys/s1600/Ocean+campsite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XuEQzKjCWyM/T0YfXdGEhNI/AAAAAAAAAm0/Yo1iOBkC7ys/s640/Ocean+campsite.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our campsite for the night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qnwpYhnh9-o/T4S2MNkct9I/AAAAAAAAArU/54_EaVa5JkI/s1600/beach+camp+chile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qnwpYhnh9-o/T4S2MNkct9I/AAAAAAAAArU/54_EaVa5JkI/s640/beach+camp+chile.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camping!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We
ended the day on the beach south of Tocopilla. Found a great campsite right
above rocky tide pool with the Pacific crashing on shore. Max cooked up a
dinner of Rice and beans (like we haven’t had enough of them already) that were
very tasty. All along this part of the coast there are these shrine areas much
like you see everywhere someone has died in a car accident but much larger.
Some of them have multiple crosses and big shrine enclosures. Be guess is that
they are for fishermen and sailors lost at sea. They all face the ocean and all
appear to be built on public land.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MOF2hxHsoqw/T0YgDlb_6wI/AAAAAAAAAm8/gZZWP_N0nkI/s1600/Self+portort.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MOF2hxHsoqw/T0YgDlb_6wI/AAAAAAAAAm8/gZZWP_N0nkI/s400/Self+portort.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The spot we camped at had a small monument
wit some inscription on it facing the ocean. Also there were coins and rosary
beads placed around it. Kind of reminded me of the Shrines we saw while riding
through Mongolia except we don’t stop at each shrine and walk around it 3 times
taking shots of vodka as we did in Mongolia.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Monday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a restful night of listening to the ocean crash right
below us I arise around 8 (it’s actually 6 in Peru) and after Max cooks up a
luscious breakfast of oatmeal, no milk on honey just oatmeal we pack and are
ready to go around 9:30. First thing is to tow Max and the POS KTM to a place
we can push start him. Towing him uphill in the sand proved too much for the
old man and his bike. Each time I would take off the weight of his bike lifted
my front end up so much I couldn’t steer. After two close calls to dumping the
bike I call it quits and we push the bike to a hill. Max is getting really good
at firing the beast in 1<sup>st</sup> gear and pulls it off one more time.
About this time Jay informs us he has found a route to Buenos Aries that does
not involve riding with us another day. Hummm, I can’t help but think the KTM
may have played a not so small part in his decision. (KTM breaking down in the
middle of the Atacoma desert would scare off the heartiest of riders). Anyway it’s
adios to Jay and good riding with you buddy. We continue down the coast for a
number of miles, ride through the port city of Antofagasta (gota love the name)
then turn in to the heart of the Atacoma. I had pictured Antofagasta (it’s even
fun to type it) to be a dirty industrial port city but found it to very modern
and clean with nice beaches and a beautiful downtown tourist area. About 30
miles south of Antofagasta (there I typed it again!) We come upon a landmark we
had been seeking since the beginning of the trip. <b>LA MANO DEL DESIERTO!!!
“The hand of the desert”</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qjtlMSLCrTM/T0YglGQjlYI/AAAAAAAAAnE/J-34VCKMsVE/s1600/The+hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qjtlMSLCrTM/T0YglGQjlYI/AAAAAAAAAnE/J-34VCKMsVE/s640/The+hand.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<b> </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some wacko artist a number of years ago thought it would be
really cool to create a giant in the middle of the driest desert in the world
(it hasn’t rained here for 600 years! Really!)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wonder where he got the water for the concrete…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I digress; this is very impressive standing alone on the
flat desert plain. So we stop, take the appropriate pictures and move on. Oh
yea, after we push start the POS KTM.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Knowing we have a long way between gas stops we picked up a
gallon water jug and filled it with gas at our last stop, good thing because
Max runs out at 250 miles, Johns on reserve and the GS still has one bar left!
Love that bike! The few occurrences this day are we come upon an accident in the
middle of nowhere along a very straight section of rode. It’s a truck that has
roll numerous times (maybe a blown tire). The Policia were there so no need to
stop. It seems that there is a road crew every 5 Kms or so with shovels and
brooms to keep the road cleared of sand. We did see a few loaders, but just a
few, most of the work is done with manual labor.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-43fwn0JpyQc/T0Yg7O0A2AI/AAAAAAAAAnM/zgjxS_5EN84/s1600/Ocean+camp+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-43fwn0JpyQc/T0Yg7O0A2AI/AAAAAAAAAnM/zgjxS_5EN84/s400/Ocean+camp+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our 2nd beach camp</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We rolled into Chanara around
7 and find some beach camping about 5 kms beyond town. It’s a nice place with
sites that include a picnic bench and a fire grill. No charge and we are the
only ones there until later when one other truck shows up. Tonight Briner
treats us to a Southwest Smoked salmon with pasta dinner served with a very
good red wine (wine is good and cheap down here!). Sitting around watching John
and Max cook, sipping a glass of wine I really feel blessed to have this
opportunity with my son. Somewhere along the way Max has become a very
self-sufficent, good-natured, good humored (and rides like a pro!) young man.
He really is great company and I can’t begin to tell you how much I’m enjoying
his company. Another soothing night sleeping with the sound of the surf has me
feeling fine!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0l5lFqMfHUs/T0YhPeA3ZiI/AAAAAAAAAnU/1pnYGYn2Ojg/s1600/view+from+ocean+camp+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0l5lFqMfHUs/T0YhPeA3ZiI/AAAAAAAAAnU/1pnYGYn2Ojg/s640/view+from+ocean+camp+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning view from our camp</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tuesday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c3CcC4hDCFg/T05mmsuDz0I/AAAAAAAAAnc/TpvwLkz7grk/s1600/Las+Vilos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c3CcC4hDCFg/T05mmsuDz0I/AAAAAAAAAnc/TpvwLkz7grk/s400/Las+Vilos.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hostel in Los Vilos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We are packed up and on the road by 9. We need to make
almost 1000 miles in the next 2 days to get Max’s bike to the KTM doctor before
the weekend. We run along the ocean, on Ruta 5, for the first 30 miles then
turn back inland. More of the same; sand dunes, no vegetation and drifting sand
on the road. There doesn’t appear to be anything living here except some
vultures. I haven’t seen so much as a lizard out here! This desert is getting a
bit monotonous but after passing through La Serena, a nice port city with a
impressive built up tourist area and clean beaches, we begin to see green
again. Not much but enough to make the ride a little more interesting. After
450 miles we end up in a small but very funky surf town (Las Vilos) and find what might be
the last room in town.<br />
<br />
Thinking sea food should be the fair here I order
camorones (shrimp). Since I can’t read Spanish I never know what I’ll get and
what I get is a bowl full of tiny shrimp floating on a sea of butter. It goes
without saying those little buggers slid right through me and kept me from
getting the fitful sleep I was getting used to. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wednesday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We get an early start today. Well we made it out of the
Atacoma and begin to see crops growing, mostly grapes. We are once again in
wine country, this time Chilian wine! The are we are riding through reminds me
of the Napa/Sonoma area but without all the congestion. The climate but be
similar with coastal fog coming in the morning then burning off and heating up
during the day. As we approach Santiago the air becomes hazier until it’s thick
smog.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R1UOWkoTgjA/T05nnNIvTXI/AAAAAAAAAnk/GAf6UTUsJn4/s1600/Santiago+smog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R1UOWkoTgjA/T05nnNIvTXI/AAAAAAAAAnk/GAf6UTUsJn4/s400/Santiago+smog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santiago Smog</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Looks at least as bad as LA does in the summer. We pass right on through
Santiago without too much traffic ( the highways are muli-lane and very modern)
. Ruta 5 becomes a boring 4 lane road much like I5 in California but it also
allows us to really burn the miles! We pull into Chilan around 3:30 after
riding 400 miles and head straight for the KTM dealer. At first it appears
closed but soon after arriving the employees begin showing up after their 2 ½
hour lunch break! Max explains, in his broken Spanish, what he wants done and I
attempt to get a rear tire but they don’t have one in my size. I’m beginning to worry I might not be able
to get one in Chile and hear it’s even harder to fine one in Argentina. We get
the feeling these guys could give a shit about our problems and leave feeling a
bit dejected. I went off looking for a place to stay nearby. My requirements
are simple. Cheap, comfortable, a
pool ( it’s frig’n hot here) and beer. What I found was very expensive places,
some with a shared bath, and no pools. Finally I find a place named Hotel
Canada run by a nice lady for only $80 a night (we are used to paying about
$30) and felt lucky to have found that! We met a couple from northern Italy
staying there. They had been there almost a month spending time with a young
girl they are adopting from around there. She works for Pagani, an exotic car
manufacturer in Italy, and he works at Ferrari.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MCdsEdLJ6EE/T05n-_Qk0_I/AAAAAAAAAns/s3UM84QQi9Q/s1600/friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MCdsEdLJ6EE/T05n-_Qk0_I/AAAAAAAAAns/s3UM84QQi9Q/s400/friends.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our friens from Italy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Very interesting folks. I had
fun talking Moto GP and Formula 1 with someone who knows a thing or two about
the sports. Dinner was at a nearby restaurant. It was king of weird but we go
in this place and they must have seating for 100. We are the only ones and I
get a little suspitious of the food. But we go ahead and order. A bottle of
wine (the best they have) $8! A steak $6 (it can’t be any good). The wine is
great and the steak is fabulous! 1
½” 16oz steak, as tender a steak I’ve had and cooked to perfection. After the
last 3 months looking at 1/4” overcooked tough pieces of some sort of meat I
was in heaven!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r5mq06QN1bs/T05oXFkmeXI/AAAAAAAAAn0/1PzuktnJyvY/s1600/Steak!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r5mq06QN1bs/T05oXFkmeXI/AAAAAAAAAn0/1PzuktnJyvY/s320/Steak!.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No words can discribe my pleasure!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thursday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After breakfast we all headed up to visit the patient. All the
guys at the shop seemed to have warmed up a bit and they begin to go over the
list of things they found, bad intermediate gear (the same gear we replaced in
Medellin), A failed stator, the sub frame had broken, new tires for and aft,
flushed the cooling system and a oil change. They are waiting for a part so
will have the bike another day. Also after asking again they they said they
would order a tire for me. I was told by someone that you have to ask to
receive down here. I had asked if they had a tire yesterday and was told no.
They didn’t offer to order one even though they knew I desparatly needed one.
But when I asked again today I was told “no problem” they would have it
Saturday morning. Another great dinner, this time at Motonietis, a restaurant named
after the owners first scooter. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Spent the day downloading music to my GPS. Now I have my
entire iTunes library at my finger tips while riding. I originally bought this
model of GPS because of it’s built in XM radio only to find out it faded away
somewhere around El Salvador not to return until I get back to the northern
hemisphere. Oh well I guess the XM guy misunderstood me when I asked if it
would work in South America, he must have thought I was asking about Alabama or
something. Dinner with the Italians to finish the day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Max and I go looking for coffee.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BHfIB8OLUt4/T05qUrkMOFI/AAAAAAAAAoM/GZF9vs2-qQc/s1600/Gloves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BHfIB8OLUt4/T05qUrkMOFI/AAAAAAAAAoM/GZF9vs2-qQc/s400/Gloves.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These were new at the beginning of the trip</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This seemily simple task is
not so easy here. In Chile most people drink Nescafe and the few that enjoy a
good shot of espresso must not get out until after 10 in the morning because
that’s when the coffee shops open. Then it’s off to the KTM shop. They have
found a few other things that needed replacing also related to the
starter/stator problem. Good news the parts arrived the bad news my tire
didn’t! Anyway at least the KTM will be ready for an early morning start
tomorrow. So I spend the rest of the day trying, without success to find the
leak in my air mattress and tracking down a tire.. I know we will be doing more
camping and my mattress completely leaks out over the course of the night
causing me much discomfort during the early morning hours of the day. I did
have some success finding a tire. There is a shop in Bariloche that might have
one. After a number of calls I verify there is one there! Yahoo! I’m so excited
I don’t even ask how much.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Packed and on the road by 8:30. Gas up and…Shit! The starter
on the KTM just spins! After giving the right pannier a swift kick we settle
down and have a trip planning discussion (in the gas station parking lot). It’s
Sunday and the shop is closed so do we all wait until Monday, which means not
getting out of town until Tuesday morning at the earliest. That’s 2 more nights
at the way over budget hotel. After much discussion we all decide it would be
in everyone’s best interest if John and I head for Argentina and Max finds a
cheap place to stay in Chilan and deal with the bike himself. As tough as a
discussion it was it did turn out to be the best one.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oyh1s4FXNN0/T05pTagzRuI/AAAAAAAAAn8/aiVqKo16-YQ/s1600/Park+Villarrica+and+John.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oyh1s4FXNN0/T05pTagzRuI/AAAAAAAAAn8/aiVqKo16-YQ/s400/Park+Villarrica+and+John.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camped of the night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So John and I point the
bikes south and wave a heartfelt goodbye to my #1 son. We ride south on Ruta 5
then turn East on 199 to Lago Villarrica. This is the beginning of the Lakes
District that we plan on spending some time in. It is a beautiful setting that
reminds me a little of North Lake Tahoe. Off to the South is Volcan Villarrica,
a 9000’ active volcano that rises straight up from about a 1000’ elevation,
very impressive! Our map shows some hot springs in the area so we ride through
Pucon and turn north for 25 kms to Huife Thermals. On the way we ran into a
Moto tour group of about 15 bikers. Compass Expeditions, a company from
Australia, does these 18-day tours from Osorno, Chile to Ushuaia, Argentina.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--Mi-oYJQ5g4/T05pqoql9aI/AAAAAAAAAoE/WaVHy7Zzc38/s1600/Volcan+Villarrica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--Mi-oYJQ5g4/T05pqoql9aI/AAAAAAAAAoE/WaVHy7Zzc38/s640/Volcan+Villarrica.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Volcan Villarrica</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We
got camping information from them and found an awesome place to camp right on a
small river. It is very comforting to be camping next to a clean cool river for
the night. A couple of locals were catching Rainbows right in front of our
campsite with nothing more than a hand line, bobber and a chunk of Crayfish.
After a gourmet dinner of Pad Thai (freeze dried of course) and a bottle of
Chilean wine we hit the sack.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NYEypYV4tFY/T07JWHwG0wI/AAAAAAAAAos/jYiGu3b0m20/s1600/Gouchos+river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NYEypYV4tFY/T07JWHwG0wI/AAAAAAAAAos/jYiGu3b0m20/s640/Gouchos+river.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some Gouchos crossing the river</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Monday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Coffee and yogurt, pack up the bikes and head for the hot
springs about 2 ktms up the road. We arrive to find they won’t be opening for
another hour.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QEpIzp_eDFc/T07IwSO9z9I/AAAAAAAAAok/9bbcxF74NOs/s1600/wooden+bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QEpIzp_eDFc/T07IwSO9z9I/AAAAAAAAAok/9bbcxF74NOs/s400/wooden+bridge.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A number of of somewhat flimseys bridges awaited us in Arg.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I just can’t get used to the late night late morning lifestyle
the Chileans have. So we start our days ride a little earlier then planed. We
ride east on 199 through Curarrehue onto a dirt road to the border. We are in
the middle of a National Park and it is beautiful! Lots of small lakes and pine
trees. There is a type of pine that’s called an Araucaria tree. Is a very
bizarre looking thing that grows very big.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vomSM16hqFA/T05rD8fpKKI/AAAAAAAAAoU/EJyXdajliIA/s1600/Cool+Pine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vomSM16hqFA/T05rD8fpKKI/AAAAAAAAAoU/EJyXdajliIA/s400/Cool+Pine.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Araucaria tree</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Instead of needles it has these rose
like thorns and is sometimes referred to as a monkey tree. The border crossing
was very organized but slow due to a number of tour buses that had arrived
before us. Once into Argentina the landscaped changed and began resembling
parts of Montana I’ve ridden through. Rolling hills separated by these pretty
rivers that must be full of Rainbow Trout. They have strict catch and release
laws here in the Patagonia. We made it to San Martin de Los Andes and found
camping in town for the night. San Martin is a recreation center referred to us
as “the Bariloche of 20 years ago”. If that’s the case I wonder what Bariloche
of today is like. This place is teaming with tourists. The main streets are
lined with outdoor shops and restaurants. The town sits at the East end of Lago
Largar and serves as a ski town in the wintertime. While eating dinner a guy
from New Zealand hears us speaking English and comes by to ask about roads
around. It turns out him and his son rented a couple of Honda Trans Alps and
are looking for roads in Chile to ride so we spent the rest of the night going
over maps with them. The owner of the place, Juan Pablo, also was great, buying
us a beer and keeping us amused. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gCOeOM12jGs/T05r39N3KwI/AAAAAAAAAoc/z4UmhbCT9BA/s1600/Chile+border+line.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gCOeOM12jGs/T05r39N3KwI/AAAAAAAAAoc/z4UmhbCT9BA/s400/Chile+border+line.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Line at Argentina border</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tuesday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had such a good time and food at Juan’s we go back for
some breakfast after which we explore the town looking for air mattress patch
kits and a thermos for John. Back at camp I attacked the air mattress project
with a new zeal, hoping to find the source of the pinhole leak. After going
over the thing inch by inch I finally find a very, very small leak, which I
patch up with the kit I brought from Skagway. The patch failed, and I’m back to
looking for another kit. Spent the afternoon working on this god-forsaken blog
then called my bride to wish her a happy Valentines Day. Dinner at Juan’s again
(hey, when you find a good thing why chance otherwise?).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wednesday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We ride the seven lakes route south down to San Carlos de
Bariloche.<br />
The route takes us through some spectacular areas. We follow lakes,
streams on mostly nice roads with about 30 miles of dirt. While riding we begin
to see a light colored dust everywhere, on the roadside, in the trees, in the
streams and up in the mountains. We are perplexed until we meet some bicyclists
from Argentina who tell us it’s ash from a volcano in Chile the blew 5 months
ago. As we ride in closer to Bariloche the sky begins to fill up with more ash
from the same Volcano. This area has been dealing with this for months! By the
time we reach Bariloche you can’t see ½ way across the lake and by the time we
get to our hotel visibility is down to ¼ mile. When the wind blows from the
west they get this new ash from the volcano. What a mess! The first thing I do
is go to the Moto shop to see if they have my tire. They do and they will sell
it to be for $430! That’s three times what I pay in the states but it’s here
and I need it so I pull out the visa only to be told, “Cash only”. The owner
had to drive me to a cash machine; even pulling out the maximum amount I still
didn’t have enough. I guess I look honest because he let me take the tire and
pay him the rest the next day. Later
we meet up with some old friends of John who live here. Daniel and Clyo had
worked with John back at Telluride as ski instructors 6 or 7 years ago. Daniel
owns the ski school here at the big ski resort. After numerous beers and some
food we part company having made plans to have dinner with them tomorrow at
their house. When I get back to our room I got an email from max saying he
would be here tomorrow. I’ll be very relieved to see him and his bike here in
one piece!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jx3O_yK1BQU/T07KEd7RtlI/AAAAAAAAAo0/eawpZ5shjCc/s1600/Cool+ranger+gear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jx3O_yK1BQU/T07KEd7RtlI/AAAAAAAAAo0/eawpZ5shjCc/s400/Cool+ranger+gear.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rangers down here dress way cooler than our rangers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thursday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not much to write about until around 2:30. While in our room
writing on the blog I hear a bike that sounds like Max’s but louder (if that’s
possible). Looking out the window I verify it’s Max and head down to meet him.
The back cap on his muffler has falling off, the rivets failing from the
excessive vibration from his bike. Fortunately he found it and will get it put
back on. He has had a good adventure riding dirt roads across from Chile. And,
other than the muffler issue, the bike is running better than ever. After
getting settled in we once again take the POS to a moto shop to get the muffler
fixed. John calls Daniel and is told he will pick us up for dinner around 8:30.
Are you kidding me! That’s closer to my bedtime than to my dinnertime. Actually
my head is beginning to adjust to Argentinean time.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2bPZtOWSt3Y/T07KfSUMs5I/AAAAAAAAAo8/iU8Hqw9XxP8/s1600/Bicyicles+lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2bPZtOWSt3Y/T07KfSUMs5I/AAAAAAAAAo8/iU8Hqw9XxP8/s400/Bicyicles+lake.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some bikers we met on the 7 lakes route</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I’ve been eating late
staying up late and sleeping in late. No more “the early bird gets the worm”.
Max on the other hand didn’t have to adjust; he already has the sleeping in
thing going for him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Friday FEB 17</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rain! I didn’t realize how lucky we’ve been until waking up
this morning to pouring rain. Funny story…. Yesterday while at the moto shop I
attempted to ask the owner what time he opened tomorrow. “Que Tiempo Manana?”
He just looked up at the sky and shrugged his shoulders. So I asked again and
this time he goes to his computer, smiles and says the Spanish equivalent of
“rain next five days”. Turns out “tempo” means both time and weather.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YoAtUzXPaPg/T07ModONDPI/AAAAAAAAApU/NQVXYs4iclw/s1600/lake+route.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="481" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YoAtUzXPaPg/T07ModONDPI/AAAAAAAAApU/NQVXYs4iclw/s640/lake+route.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">7 lakes route</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dD0FxFWmnlU/T07LKFOnQCI/AAAAAAAAApE/22QBScGCMls/s1600/lake+along+lake+route.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dD0FxFWmnlU/T07LKFOnQCI/AAAAAAAAApE/22QBScGCMls/s640/lake+along+lake+route.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lakeshore covered with volcanic ash</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I finally
figure this out and leave not knowing what time he will open in the morning but
an pretty sure it’s going to rain the next day. Spend the day sorting pictures
and finalizing an exit plan for getting back home.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9MlanaPU0Ik/T07LoWM_FvI/AAAAAAAAApM/AfgnJ1bghao/s1600/Leaving+Bareloche.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9MlanaPU0Ik/T07LoWM_FvI/AAAAAAAAApM/AfgnJ1bghao/s640/Leaving+Bareloche.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road from Bariloche</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We will ship the bikes by
air from Buenos Aires to Seattle on the 8<sup>th</sup> of April and will fly
ourselves to Seattle on the 9<sup>th</sup>. We still not sure what to do with
the POS KTM but Max is actively trying to sell it down here. Although it is
illegal to sell a bike not registered in Argentina he may have found a buyer
who would pick up the bike just north of Ushuaia and Max will have to walk, bus
or fly to Buenos Aries. Stay tuned.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Czms6nwsEDA/T4S3aIivObI/AAAAAAAAArk/WtyZCqOPAM8/s1600/daniel+clyo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Czms6nwsEDA/T4S3aIivObI/AAAAAAAAArk/WtyZCqOPAM8/s640/daniel+clyo.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daniel and Clyo, Johns old friends in Bariloche hosting a great meat dinner!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
John finds out one of the owners at the place we are staying
does guided Moto and 4 wheel drive tours down to Ushuaia. After asking if he
could help with our trip planning we all sit down with our maps and he lays out
a route that takes us back into Chile crossing at Futaleufu and riding down through the archipeligo
to Villa O’Higgins then back track north, crossing back into Argentina at Paso
Roballos to Ruta 40 South.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hIU7aQwEuuo/T07NEWKTLFI/AAAAAAAAApc/zwGQ3f8SGMk/s1600/road+to+El+Boson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hIU7aQwEuuo/T07NEWKTLFI/AAAAAAAAApc/zwGQ3f8SGMk/s400/road+to+El+Boson.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road to El Boson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It looks awesome and the roads are mostly gravel.
After breakfast we start riding south out of town heading toward El Bolson,
where we heard there will be a hops festival this weekend. . Almost immediately
I understand the draw to this area. The countryside turns wild with hanging
glaciers, emerald lakes and rouged mountains. We reach El Bolson and stop to
get some lunch and information. The lunch was great but the information notso
good. The festival does not begin for 2 weeks but on a positive note there is a
festival this weekend at a town named Lago Puelo, only 20 Kms south of here.
Hey we’ll take any festival so we ride on down, find camping and go check out
the party! It is more like a county fair with cotton candy, music, games and NO
BEER!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JPjFvdsGVBM/T07NmagLO0I/AAAAAAAAApk/Jvd2qbH6Ik4/s1600/Burger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JPjFvdsGVBM/T07NmagLO0I/AAAAAAAAApk/Jvd2qbH6Ik4/s320/Burger.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I’ve probably mentioned this before but Argentina is a trip. Nothing
opens before 10 AM and then everything closes between 1:00 and 4:00 then opens
again, except the restaurants which don’t open until 8 or 9:00. People do not
eat dinner until 9:00 at the earliest. Anyway no food or beer so I take a nap.
When I awake around 9 I’m hungry and we find a place nearby to serve us food
and beer. This area is well known for it “artisans beer” or home brew. Anybody
can home brew and sell it so the rodes around here are full of signs
advertising there beer that they serve right out of their homes. Briner is in
beer heaven!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nGezSiv4q70/T07OxzOo1YI/AAAAAAAAAp0/bRLNVoIgbn4/s1600/Lago+Puelo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nGezSiv4q70/T07OxzOo1YI/AAAAAAAAAp0/bRLNVoIgbn4/s400/Lago+Puelo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying some local brew in Lago Puelo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a late breakfast we pack up camp and ride south down
258 to 71 and into Parque Nacional Los Alerces.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JKMLtjxPl1s/T07ONeWvqOI/AAAAAAAAAps/sPtTV0wAZLM/s1600/Welcome+to+lake+sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JKMLtjxPl1s/T07ONeWvqOI/AAAAAAAAAps/sPtTV0wAZLM/s400/Welcome+to+lake+sign.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The park is beautiful with
lakes and mountains but is known to have the only living Alerces trees. These
trees are considered to be some of the oldest trees in the world dating back
4000 years ago. They grow to 3 meters wide and I don’t know how tall. Still
don’t because we didn’t take the time to walk the 20 minutes to see one. We set
up camp at a free park campground by a lake. John thinks about getting some
hand line and flies but it’s too windy to try. Max and I take a hike up to a
cool waterfall then return to eat some dinner. John cooks up my last freeze
dried meal, pasta with Salmon and we polish off a bottle of wine. After Max
breaks out the rum which leads to Max and John trying to walk across strapping
tied between 2 trees. Fun to watch but hard to do. John has read that we are
near to the homestead Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid lived on for a while
in 1906-08. They raised cattle and horses, attempting to go straight only to be
falsely accused of robbing a nearby bank. That’s what got them running off to
Bolivia. So we plot a course for tomorrows ride that will take us by the site.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Monday Feb 20</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are off In search of Butch Cassidy’s ranch. It’s a
beautiful ride down the lakes on a well maintained gravel road. According to John the site is near La
Hoya, a ski area north of Esquel.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f8xkoXmmCMc/T07Pp_NdxJI/AAAAAAAAAp8/gAs7HjKWl-E/s1600/road+to+esquel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="481" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f8xkoXmmCMc/T07Pp_NdxJI/AAAAAAAAAp8/gAs7HjKWl-E/s640/road+to+esquel.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road to Esquel. I can see the draw for Butch and Sundance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We stop in Esquel for lunch and information
on exactly where we are going only to find that the site is very near to where
we had camped, not down here. Bummer! Well lets gas up and get going. Not so
fast, the first station has no gas and the other has a line around the block. After
conferring with my map I see there is a good size town just inside Chile so we
decide we'll pay alittle more in Chile but it will be worth it not having to
wait.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xmo78QBfWPI/T07QUXg_zsI/AAAAAAAAAqE/66ZU2F_DpPY/s1600/Gas+stop+Futaleufu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xmo78QBfWPI/T07QUXg_zsI/AAAAAAAAAqE/66ZU2F_DpPY/s400/Gas+stop+Futaleufu.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gas stop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So we back track a little ways and ride on to the Chile border. A large
line of tourists await us and the exit/ entrance process takes us 2 ½
hours and we don’t get through
until 6:00. Our goal of getting to Chaiten tonight is slipping through our
fingers. Once through we ride into Futaleutu for gas. We ride by a gas station
under construction but don’t see any other. Max gets directions to one that
leads us to a mechanics shop where we inquire about gas. We are told there is
no station here or anywhere within 90 miles, but if you please I have gas at my
house that I’ll sell you for $10 a gallon! We have no choice but to follow this
honest man to his house where he sell us each 1.5 gallons of low grade petol,
enough to make it to Chaiten. By the time we get out of town it’s 7:30. So we
continue riding south on 231 on what has to be one of the most beautiful rides
I’ve taken (except the 10 ktm stretch of rough and deep sand waiting to be
graded).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7-09fvRLTbw/T4SyMQ2351I/AAAAAAAAAqc/EVgAH0YeSvA/s1600/River.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7-09fvRLTbw/T4SyMQ2351I/AAAAAAAAAqc/EVgAH0YeSvA/s640/River.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RIVER RUNNING ALONG OUR ROUTE<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X6nyF4Dn0Xw/T4Syw01weII/AAAAAAAAAqk/NwQepCUXjzg/s1600/road+from+chaiten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X6nyF4Dn0Xw/T4Syw01weII/AAAAAAAAAqk/NwQepCUXjzg/s640/road+from+chaiten.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the road into Chaiten</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e_komXVQeYs/T07Qx--TxnI/AAAAAAAAAqM/azioQBFn8XY/s1600/Jorge+campground.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e_komXVQeYs/T07Qx--TxnI/AAAAAAAAAqM/azioQBFn8XY/s400/Jorge+campground.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our kitchen and dining room at Jorges'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We find camping on property owned by a fishing guide that is right on
the lake. After John clears off a number of cow pies we set up camp and eat a
wonderful dinner cooked by chef John. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tuesday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No rain so I get up and pack my tent before the rain comes
again. We are now in a rain forest much like SE Alaska. They cook us breakfast
then it’s KTM maintenance. Chain lube and tightening. The new issue: The KTMs
steering head bearings seem to be going. No problem, I tell Max, they WILL last
the trip! (I hope). We finally get riding around 11 and have a very enjoyable
ride into the town of Chaiten where John and Max hope to run into Doug Tomkins,
the founder of North Face and a environmentalist who has be instrumental in
setting up 2 large park/reserves here in Chile.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E9XAyfHLHpg/T07RK0v4zxI/AAAAAAAAAqU/C1JHM47qngY/s1600/Breakfast+at+Jorges.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E9XAyfHLHpg/T07RK0v4zxI/AAAAAAAAAqU/C1JHM47qngY/s400/Breakfast+at+Jorges.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast at Jorges'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The one here is Parque Palena.
It’s a large park containing both rainforest and mountains including the Volcan
Chaiten. The second park is south of here, Corcovalo National park. If you
haven’t seen it yet download and see the film 180 degrees South. This is the
film that inspired us to spend time in this part of the Patagonia. It also
features Doug Tomkins and Yvon Chouinard<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13pt;"><b>, </b></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">the
founder of Patagonia clothing. </span>After arriving in Chaiten I got online to
see what I could find about this place. Holy shit! In 2008 the Volcan Chaiten
erupted causing the evacuation of 4000 people here. Very few have returned and
the town resembles a ghost town. Many of the houses here are time capsules from
May 2, 2008 when the people just left and never returned. The volcano, only
10kms away, still spews great clouds of steam. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UcTSfFVQscw/T4SzY3tvc3I/AAAAAAAAAqs/Dv6b2D36LiY/s1600/Yelcho+lake+by+Jorge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UcTSfFVQscw/T4SzY3tvc3I/AAAAAAAAAqs/Dv6b2D36LiY/s640/Yelcho+lake+by+Jorge.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yelcho Lake at Jorges<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5alFfmv_1qo/T4S0FysYTfI/AAAAAAAAAq0/Zj5exAA8V24/s1600/Fence+Chaiten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5alFfmv_1qo/T4S0FysYTfI/AAAAAAAAAq0/Zj5exAA8V24/s640/Fence+Chaiten.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just outside Chaiten<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OdQH7IMFVuc/T4S0jNoWZJI/AAAAAAAAAq8/oQcIwHwKa3U/s1600/Road+to+Chaiten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OdQH7IMFVuc/T4S0jNoWZJI/AAAAAAAAAq8/oQcIwHwKa3U/s640/Road+to+Chaiten.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road to Chaiten</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-59253811617640318782012-01-22T10:59:00.000-08:002012-04-10T15:35:08.615-07:00ON TO ECUADOR<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Friday Dec 23rd<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Recovery day. After 2 hours sleep last night we all needed
some rest so after breakfast we took a walk around the main square and then
took naps. After it was more sight
seeing, dinner and bed. The main square is filling up with indingenious people
there to sell their goods at tomorrows Christmas Eve market<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WjYYS9XnOvo/TxxdXt9IfCI/AAAAAAAAAeg/AaiDG4We3kE/s1600/woman+and+Llama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WjYYS9XnOvo/TxxdXt9IfCI/AAAAAAAAAeg/AaiDG4We3kE/s400/woman+and+Llama.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Sure you can take my picture. For a dollar!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Jan. 6 – Jan 10</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back in Medellin. Arrived around midnight and got back to
our home hostel around 1:30 Am. New room and down for the count.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Woke up around 7 and had an email from Fred (the Moto Shop
guy who has been working on the KTM) saying it’s ready! We can either pick it
up now or wait until Tuesday ( Monday being one of many holidays down here).
Fred tells me there is at least 2 holidays per month where he has to pay his
employees. Max and I head over and meet Fred there ( he is closed for the
holidays but will open for us). The bike is indeed ready and Max takes it for a
test ride.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gdvo9m-8dDI/TxxeJRk93iI/AAAAAAAAAeo/63Pto1zZQJc/s1600/Bikers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gdvo9m-8dDI/TxxeJRk93iI/AAAAAAAAAeo/63Pto1zZQJc/s640/Bikers.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the bikes I rode with</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It actually will start with the kick starter and the electric
starter works like it should. Hopefully no more pull starts! Fred invites us to
ride with him and his friends the next day and we gratefully accept. The chance
to ride with a gang of Colombians on KTM supermotos and the like is too good of
a opportunity to pass up so we make plans to be back at the shop at 8 AM
tomorrow. The 3 of us woke early had breakfast and were at the bikes by 7:30.
Briners bike wouldn’t turnover so we tried jumping it without success. So Max
and I did what any good friends would do. We ditched him! Like I said before
the chance to ride with the Colombians trumped all. Max and I get to the shop a
half hour late but no worries as the riders are still pulling in. There must be
15 bikes, 990 Supermotos, 690 super motos, a couple of Kawasakis, a BMW 1000rr
and a smattering of other bikes. Fred gets everything going and we leave the
shop like a hear of banshees (whatever that means). I’m up front with the
leaders and Max is mid pack. These guys are serious! We immediately in the
twisties, scraping pegs and swapping places. When we stop a number of miles
along for gas Max doesn’t show!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the riders tells me he turned the wrong way. After
much consideration I decided to continue with the group. I figured it would do
no good chasing a moving target. We ended up riding out towards Bogotá stopping
for brunch and finally arriving at the destination, a park where you can river
kayak, zip line, swim or go spelunking. It being 3 Kings Day the place was
packed and worried about Max I headed back to Medellin. When I arrived back to
the hostel, to my relief, Max was there. Bummed out he missed the ride. This
was the first time on the trip I was really able to ride like a Cobra. I’m
sorry Max missed it but had he been there I would have worried about him the
whole time. All total it was a 200 mile day, mostly on fun roads. Tomorrow we
go to the Waterpark!<o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LLCMSI4oFbw/Txxe-PDdLXI/AAAAAAAAAew/sFHpoje_qZM/s1600/Swimming+pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LLCMSI4oFbw/Txxe-PDdLXI/AAAAAAAAAew/sFHpoje_qZM/s400/Swimming+pool.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holidays at the water park!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At least that was the plan until we got to the bus station
and were told it was sold out. Plan “B” is to go even farther out to a swim
park. After a hour plus bus ride we arrive at a town in the country that is
famous for it’s climate and swimming parks. Not cheap but includes lunch. The
pool was packed with screaming children and beer drinking adults. Not my scene.
We ended up hanging for a couple of hours, then walked back to town to find a
bus back. No buses until 7:30! We ended up out on the highway and flagged down
a Combi van for the ride back. The traffic was backed up for miles so the van
driver invented a new route. Truly a “Mr. Toads Wild Ride”. He was passing rows
of cars on blind turns on narrow streets and finally got stopped by the cops
and got a ticket. To get a moving violation in this country you have to be a
total asshole! He totally disregarded our safety and the Safety of the on
coming cars. He dropped us off at the bus station, got a taxi home and that’s
all I remember of my second stay in Medellin.<o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XmG63AYZk4U/TxxfejEJDqI/AAAAAAAAAe4/YLBd9SQiMKc/s1600/PYRO+BAR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XmG63AYZk4U/TxxfejEJDqI/AAAAAAAAAe4/YLBd9SQiMKc/s320/PYRO+BAR.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flaming shots at the Pyro Bar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Wednesday Jan. 11</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back on the road again. We spent yesterday prepping the
bikes for phase three of this trip (phase 1 being Alaska to California, phase 2
California to Colombia). This included John putting in a new starter relay that
had gone out a couple of days ago. Max repacking his bike and me checking fluid
levels and checking valve clearance (no need to adjust. It’s a BMW!). We then
had one final get together at the Palm Tree “Bar” drinking Aguardentia and
beer. Then it was off to my favorite French restaurant for a pollo and
asparagus crepe. Oh yea and a number of bowls of their delicious popcorn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The plan: Get up at 5:30, have breakfast (a must requirement
for my growing son), pack the bikes and be on the road by 7 am. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The reality: up at 6 (I’m feeling punky again today),
breakfast and on the road by 7:45. Now that’s not bad considering we haven’t
been on the bikes in almost 4 weeks. The ride begins! In the first 10 blocks
Max’s stalls the kTM (this is in heavy traffic mind you). I get hit by a bus
while pulling out in traffic (I managed to stay up) and Max pulls over because
he smells plastic burning (the Moto Shop left some wires loose that began
melting on his exhaust). After sorting this out we get on the main road south
out of town and look for a gas station.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XfiJalZnwIE/TxxgHGmD8AI/AAAAAAAAAfA/7Rh1FHD0gwk/s1600/IMG_0649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XfiJalZnwIE/TxxgHGmD8AI/AAAAAAAAAfA/7Rh1FHD0gwk/s400/IMG_0649.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poster from the Palm Tree Hostel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A few days ago Max noticed Briners rear
tire bead, that he had the Moto Shop put on, was not properly set. After a
number of attempts with my little electric pump he gave up and decided to wait
until we got to a filling station. We stop for gas and John uses their air to
try to pop out the bead. He puts in 80 pounds and nothing! Next he lets out all
the air, spoons the bead away from the rim, we find a bar of soap which we
break up in some water and lube the shit out of the rim. We then begin filling
the tire. 40 pounds, nothing. 60 pounds, nothing. 80 pounds, nothing. Wait…
wait… wait… POW! The bead sets and we are on our way! We have 250 miles to Cali and judging from past experiences
it will be tight getting there before dark.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RRvCXgh5VYU/Txxnh2tI8CI/AAAAAAAAAfI/QkVfoRXEA18/s1600/John+tire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RRvCXgh5VYU/Txxnh2tI8CI/AAAAAAAAAfI/QkVfoRXEA18/s400/John+tire.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Briner tring to pop the bead</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The ride out of Medellin was not as
bad as other cities we have left even though we missed our early morning
departure time. At the outskirts of town the road immediately turns into a very
small country road that begins winding up into the mountains. Once away from
Medallion the towns became further apart and the traffic thinned out
considerably. This being the main highway South we did have to contend with a
number of trucks and buses but there weren’t as many as I would have thought.
We climbed up to 8000 feet before descending into one valley after another. We
would twist our way up and then wind our way down surrounded by dense jungle
mountains. It was beautiful! The farther South we got the warmer it got and
began seeing sugar cane fields up at 5000 ft. Then coffee plantations and
finally pineapple fields. About half way Max could stand it no longer, took the
lead and immediately stopped and the first restaurant (I use this term
lightly). Between Max and John I think they could eat a whole cow or pig daily
and still be hungry. As for me I’m still feeling a bit under the weather. These
little Ma and Pop places usually just serve one dish. This place the special
was pork soup followed by boiled pork, beef, fried banana, rice, fried egg and
beans. I had a Gatorade and two small bananas. Those boyz did us proud and
finished every last morsel on their plates! Just watching them eat all that
food made me want to vomit! Oh I almost forgot the coffee. Max ordered a “café”
and got a large bowl of highly sweetened coffee. I’m not exaggerating; it was a
bowl full of coffee! It being close to 2 pm I’m anxious to get going. From here
we are pretty much out of the mountains and follow a river for quite a ways.
This eventually opens up to a four-lane highway and we are able to make good
time. After taking a “shortcut” that Thomas found on Google maps (this shortcut
actually work!) we got into Cali around 5.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aBpflkFTKjs/Txxo0aFOs2I/AAAAAAAAAfQ/cr3KEbse7xI/s1600/Cali+with+moto+guide.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aBpflkFTKjs/Txxo0aFOs2I/AAAAAAAAAfQ/cr3KEbse7xI/s640/Cali+with+moto+guide.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In front of the Casa Blanca with the our guide who got us in the last two blocks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Dufas guided us to within 2 blocks
of our hostel. I stopped to ask directions and as usual everyone wanted to
help. Finally an off duty police man ran into his apartment, grabbed a helmet,
jumped on his scooter and led us to the place. These acts of kindness don’t
come without price. He also had grabbed his camera and wanted pictures of him
with our bikes and us. So as often happens we spend the next few minutes
getting pictures of us and our guide, with his camera, my camera, John’s camera,
well you get the picture. We picked this hostel because the owners also ride
motos and do moto tours. We thought this would be a great place to work on our
route planning but unfortunately they left the day before on a tour. Still it’s
a nice place and there is on guy from Eastern Europe that has spent some time
down here so maybe we can pick up some information over a few beers tonight. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Thursday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Woke feeling better today. I even ate breakfast! Max went
off to find someone to rebend his kickstand that got tweaked way back in Costa
Rica and I uploaded photos to my blog. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Later we walked down to Old Town thinking we could find a
good place to eat only to find it was probably the wrong part of town for three
gringos to be at night. A drunk came up to Max asking for money, Max being the
ultimate host pulled out his rum and poured the guy a half cup, the bum chugged
it down, crumpled up the cup, threw it on the ground, spat and grumbled some
non appreciated verbiage. Max is now rethinking his opinion on beggars. Next
time maybe just give them money to go and buy their own booze! We did find some
eats and headed back to the safety of our hostel. The plan: get on the road
early tomorrow and head for the border. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Friday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Up, bikes packed and ready to roll by 8. Opps, Briner stalls
his bike. Now the starter won’t work. Shit! We spend 3 or 4 hours trouble
shooting the bike before I call the day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We’ll spend another night in Cali. John gets an electrician
to look it all over after putting the bike back together and by some sort of
magic the starter comes back to life. Cool, tomorrow we will leave early and
make some tracks. Since I’m fully recovered from my bowel issues I think going
out for some cocktails would fit the bill tonight. We head down to the biker
bar on the corner and eat Buffalo wings and drink some mighty fine Margaritas.
It turns out this is only a primer for Max. He hooks up with some Argentineans
and doesn’t get back to the hostel until 4 am! Shit, so much for our early
start tomorrow. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Saturday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
John and I have pity on poor Max and let him sleep. After
breakfast we roust him and get on the road around 11. Since we are getting such
a late start we decide to make it a short riding day.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q2ElayB7nHE/TxxrULlvkJI/AAAAAAAAAfY/jJqHdldvFcI/s1600/Looking+for+a+hostel+in+Popayan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q2ElayB7nHE/TxxrULlvkJI/AAAAAAAAAfY/jJqHdldvFcI/s400/Looking+for+a+hostel+in+Popayan.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking for a hotel in Popayan Col.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The late start and the
possibility of getting in early enough to see the 49ers play the Saints make
Popayan the perfect destination. Getting out of Cali was a breeze. We climbed
back into the mountains and had a nice ride into Popayan. By the time we
arrived I was feeling sick again. I just hung around the room surfing channels
looking for the game and bummed I didn’t even have the stamana to go out and
explore a little. My good friend Gaylord did keep me posted with quarter by
quarter internet scores for the game. Sounded like I missed a good one. Maybe
I’ll be somewhere next Sunday where I can watch the game.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sunday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Feeling better this morning but still didn’t get on the road
until after 9. More mountain riding through Colombia. This country is crumbling
down.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1mkgxtGsonY/Txxrx1TcrzI/AAAAAAAAAfg/Gwjs39teSvs/s1600/Break+for+View.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1mkgxtGsonY/Txxrx1TcrzI/AAAAAAAAAfg/Gwjs39teSvs/s400/Break+for+View.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breaktime</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The Andes Mountains are a relatively new mountain range and the ongoing
erosion caused by lots of rain, unstable rock and centuries of questionable
farming practices are taking its toll. The roads are pretty good except where
they are breaking away and falling off into the canyons. Also landslides are
quite common so you have to be alert all the time because there may be problems
around every corner. The truck and bus traffic wasn’t too bad on this stretch
even thought it’s the main highway to Ecuador. We rode over a number of 10000
foot passes and it rained most the day. This is a coffee growing area and we
saw lots of Mules carrying coffee down the mountain. Weird, all the men with
the mules looked a lot like Juan Valdez! Along the road there are local people
filling in the potholes with gravel scraped from the side of the road. At one
stop three small kids were doing the work while their father walked around to
the stopped traffic looking for handouts.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z82kGq5MHyI/TxxsZplmjeI/AAAAAAAAAfo/EhBo7e7siX8/s1600/Roadwork+in+Colombia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z82kGq5MHyI/TxxsZplmjeI/AAAAAAAAAfo/EhBo7e7siX8/s400/Roadwork+in+Colombia.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roadwork</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At another stop a one legged man was
shoveling with one hand and looking for money with the other! Maybe our roads
would be in better shape if the needy worked this way up north. Around 5 we
arrived at Las Lajas where we will spend the night and check out the Cathedral
in the morning. We accidentally ended up riding down the pedestrian road that
leads to the cathedral, after a number of people, in a number of languages
tried to get our attention I figured it out and had to turn the beast around on
a very narrow, very steep road. I managed it with out dropping the bike and
embarrassing the lot of us. Halfway back up the road we found a converted
convent to stay the night in. This place is big! Lots of rooms, all small with
small beds that were designed to be uncomfortable to test the devotion of those
who gave their life to the ministry.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fu_UynKfpBw/Txxs5gupDqI/AAAAAAAAAfw/I4I4X2_8VKc/s1600/Our+room+in+Las+Lajas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fu_UynKfpBw/Txxs5gupDqI/AAAAAAAAAfw/I4I4X2_8VKc/s400/Our+room+in+Las+Lajas.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our room in Las Lajas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Our room was of a interior balcony
overlooking a multipurpose room that this night would host a big crowd of
screaming children receiting bible passages with their proud parents looking on
and encouraging more screaming! This went on until 10, at which time I found
sleep at last. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Monday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We wake early and walk down to check out the cathedral. What
makes the Sanctuay of Las Lajas interesting is that it is built over a river.
We met a Colombian, who now lives in Chicago, that is down here restoring the
stained glass in the cathedral. He told us this is the third cathedral built on
this site. The first was built in the early 1800’s, the second around 1860 and
the present one , built in Gothic Revivial architecture, was built between 1916
and 1940. It is an amazing sight and well worth the detour to see it. Next stop
the Ecuador border. This has to rate as the smoothest crossing yet.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rhN97Jj3nSg/TxxtS71Y2YI/AAAAAAAAAf4/5Q0iZjMzWig/s1600/Cathedral+Las+Lajas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rhN97Jj3nSg/TxxtS71Y2YI/AAAAAAAAAf4/5Q0iZjMzWig/s640/Cathedral+Las+Lajas.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathedral at Las Lajas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WadZ_fAjO4Q/TxxtpzX7ueI/AAAAAAAAAgA/J4TeglXY0wc/s1600/Cathedral+front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WadZ_fAjO4Q/TxxtpzX7ueI/AAAAAAAAAgA/J4TeglXY0wc/s640/Cathedral+front.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The front of the cathedral</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IEV4cyEdkx0/TxxuUVZBeVI/AAAAAAAAAgI/Dd6CqEf2JQ0/s1600/Our+Convient.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IEV4cyEdkx0/TxxuUVZBeVI/AAAAAAAAAgI/Dd6CqEf2JQ0/s320/Our+Convient.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Pastoral</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Very well
marked building with helpful officials. We processed out of Colombia with out
any trouble and got ourselves and our bikes processed into Ecuador quickly.
Three hours total! All day yesterday Dufas’s maps have been screwing up,
showing the routes on roads that
don’t exist and no longer showing towns and cities on the map. I think is a software problem. Leaving
the border we took the wrong road that put us right in the middle of a busy
town. After poking around we found our way out and on to the proper road to
Otavala. We headed into the city center and found a hotel with parking without
too much trouble. There we met Tom and Lara from Seattle. They are down here
riding a KLR and a DR650. Tom used to guide bike tours on the Baja
(motorcyclesadventure.com) and Lara is a GPS geek! Both have extensive riding
and touring experience and turned out to be a great resource for us. Not to
mention really good people. Lara donated most of the following day teaching me
about my GPS and loading new maps on it. We all went to dinner but my sickness
has returned and I cut out before the food came. Later that night I was blowing
chunks! Actually I wasn’t really blowing chunks because I hadn’t eaten much in
the last few days. But my body was going through the motions anyway. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ebxmkGqJ5jY/TxxuuNAhJ5I/AAAAAAAAAgQ/BBCzD3-0Sz0/s1600/Tom+and+Lara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ebxmkGqJ5jY/TxxuuNAhJ5I/AAAAAAAAAgQ/BBCzD3-0Sz0/s640/Tom+and+Lara.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our new friends Tom and Lara in Otavalo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tuesday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I woke with very little energy. Lara very graciously, and
patently, worked with me on my GPS. We loaded free Garmin Open Street Maps of
South America that have way more detail than the Garmin maps I had bought. I
love the way things generally work out. The first time Dufas really let’s me
down along come a GPS angel and fixes my problems. Thanks Lara! As the day
progresses I begin to feel better.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--ec5eyZLiVU/Txx0E6JFwkI/AAAAAAAAAhY/4pcoYlnzVCE/s1600/Damage+from+droping+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--ec5eyZLiVU/Txx0E6JFwkI/AAAAAAAAAhY/4pcoYlnzVCE/s320/Damage+from+droping+bike.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dropped my bike. Again!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Max has me on some anti parasitic meds, oil
of Oregano and electrolytes. Seems to be working. We all went out to dinner to
a place Lara recommended and it turns out to be the place Charlotte and me
stayed when we were here two years ago. I eat my whole bowl of pasta and felt
fine. Could it be I’m finally cured! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Wednesday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tom and Lara suggested we get insurance. They have been
stopped a number of times while in Ecuador and asked for proof of insurance.
It’s only $3 for a month so we would be remiss not to get it. After finding a
bank that sell it we find out they will only sell a year policy for $30. We
check another place and it’s the same. Max suggests a bribe would be the
cheaper way to go so we decide to get going without insurance.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hMjvYzyrB6o/TxxvfkTo4FI/AAAAAAAAAgY/ymLMIcT9xlc/s1600/Road+food+Max.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hMjvYzyrB6o/TxxvfkTo4FI/AAAAAAAAAgY/ymLMIcT9xlc/s400/Road+food+Max.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At 10 AM we are off
to find the center of the world (the Equator). The road we take parallels the
Pan America Highway to the East. I thought we would cut over before coming to
the Equator but was wrong. We crossed the Equator at a place that had on
monument so we backtrack a number of miles so we can ham it up at the monument.
We never did find the big monument but instead found a smaller much less
crowded one (we were the only people there other that the guide). After the
obligatory pictures we headed back the way we came and turned off towards
Baeza. Our plan is to ride a loop that will take us into the upper Amazon. The
road begins to climb and climb and we find ourselves at a 13,600’ pass! It’s
not snowing but the rains looks like it will change shortly so we push on. While
we were stopped Max noticed some hot springs along the way.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8bRaKUwj0yg/TxxwG9iGQMI/AAAAAAAAAgg/ZjSjMzQ-XrI/s1600/At+the+equator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8bRaKUwj0yg/TxxwG9iGQMI/AAAAAAAAAgg/ZjSjMzQ-XrI/s640/At+the+equator.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We have now traveled as far to the east as we have to the south!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w48tFr0BCqQ/TxxwllC9thI/AAAAAAAAAgo/S33xUMMDH7E/s1600/Bikes+equator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w48tFr0BCqQ/TxxwllC9thI/AAAAAAAAAgo/S33xUMMDH7E/s640/Bikes+equator.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bikes at the Equator!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
After riding down a
couple of thousand of feet we came to the first of them. It was a run down
place but had some tubs and a place where we could set up our tents but no
food.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kReu5MCwmrQ/TxxxIPDAVFI/AAAAAAAAAgw/6vgMVJDhOtw/s1600/GPS+ecuador.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kReu5MCwmrQ/TxxxIPDAVFI/AAAAAAAAAgw/6vgMVJDhOtw/s320/GPS+ecuador.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Opps I must have moved a inch!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
There is a town (Papallacta) 5k down the road and we decide to go and buy
some food and come back. While
down there we see more signs for hot springs but no food so we venture further
up the road coming to a fancy resort (<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 9pt;">Termas Papallacta, look it up)</span>. Now I’m feeling shitty again
and it’s starting to rain so I throw out the idea of blowing the budget and
staying here. Max does his magic and gets us a 10% discount (playing up my
illness) and within 30 minutes I’m soaking in a beautifully landscaped hot
springs a mere few feet from our room! I manage a salad this night while
watching Max devoured the best looking steak I’ve seen since crossing the
Mexico border. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Thursday<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After an early morning soak and having a little breakfast
it’s time to pack up. Max goes for a hike and we start packing up the bikes.
While packing the bikes we meet a guy named Darin who is a missionary taking
doctors and nurses into the Amazon to do surgery on deformed kids.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xKsl8MNPe_4/TxxxvLc8_4I/AAAAAAAAAg4/lpn1wfpx6bk/s1600/Our+springs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xKsl8MNPe_4/TxxxvLc8_4I/AAAAAAAAAg4/lpn1wfpx6bk/s640/Our+springs.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our private hot springs<br />
<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-somGnMa32oQ/T4S1QpVz86I/AAAAAAAAArE/bDNM0rT5B-g/s1600/me+at+13600'.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-somGnMa32oQ/T4S1QpVz86I/AAAAAAAAArE/bDNM0rT5B-g/s640/me+at+13600'.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yours truly at 13600'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Normally the
other villagers would shun these children so it seems they are doing good work.
My only issue with these missionaries is that there work comes with a price and
that’s their effort to convert the villagers to western religion and western
ways of living. We did get some good info on a place to stay in Misahualli.
When we leave Papallacta we begin to descend toward the Amazon basin. After
about an hour I can feel my breathing returning to normal and my nausea
diminishing. By the time we reach 2000 feet I’m feeling great! The ride down is
amazing. Together with my health returning, the vegetation is also rapidly
changing. Coming down from 11000 feet to 1200 feet in 90 miles, the change in
trees and such is dramatic. After reaching Tena we turn East and ride along the
Napo River to the small town of Misahualli. Man, we are in the jungle now! We
find our hostel easily and Max and I go out to look around.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-64BdPdjUR7U/Txxy0hWfWSI/AAAAAAAAAhI/mumUETK3adQ/s1600/monkeys+in+square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-64BdPdjUR7U/Txxy0hWfWSI/AAAAAAAAAhI/mumUETK3adQ/s640/monkeys+in+square.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the monkeys ignore me!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The town is kind of
undiscript. It has a small central square with shops and restaurants
surrounding it. The cool thing is the square is loaded with monkeys! Two
species in fact. The Cappuccino and the smaller Poco monkey.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mL6NGub8JLE/TxxzcyPrfBI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/49oHp1f4Apw/s1600/max+and+monkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mL6NGub8JLE/TxxzcyPrfBI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/49oHp1f4Apw/s400/max+and+monkey.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max making friends. Note he still has his sunglasses</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
They are a kick to
watch, so human like. While watching these cute little guys one runs up to Max,
jumps up his shirt, shoulder, head and onto the light post we are standing next
to in a flash. He doesn’t realize it then but later notices his sunglasses have
been taken from his shirt. These monkeys are a band of thieves! We find a guide
and a boat for tomorrow and for the first time in a while I eat an entire
dinner without ill effects! I have diagnosed myself with having altitude
sickness. Bummer because we still have lots of time ahead at altitude. Oh well
not to worry now, I’ll deal with it later. That night we witnessed on of the
most violent storms I’ve been in. The lightning was non stop and it rained sheets
all night. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Friday Jan 20</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At breakfast I ask our host about the storm and she tells me
that’s the norm here. Hard to believe but I’ll take her at her word.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We meet up with our guide Carlos.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qrwWp7x6XtM/TxxyL1bKUiI/AAAAAAAAAhA/dCEEVoQ6XVM/s1600/town+from+river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qrwWp7x6XtM/TxxyL1bKUiI/AAAAAAAAAhA/dCEEVoQ6XVM/s640/town+from+river.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The town of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Misahualli from the river</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VLLTxVV4Cps/Txx0jRkY0JI/AAAAAAAAAhg/m-YQnO55A4w/s1600/boat+from+past.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VLLTxVV4Cps/Txx0jRkY0JI/AAAAAAAAAhg/m-YQnO55A4w/s400/boat+from+past.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A river boat from the past</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He fits us with boots,
meet up with 2 other clients and go to the boat. The water has risen and pushes
the boat high on the beach. This boats they run on the river are based on an
old wood design but are now made of steel. It took all of us to push it into
the Napo River. We first go down river a number of miles and pull up to the
bank. It’s dense jungle but once in it there are narrow trails all through it.
We take a hike through the mud, vines and trees with Carlos explaining all the
different plants, insects and animals that live here. After crossing a couple
of streams we came to a deeper crossing that required some fancy footwork (I’m
not a fancy footwork kind of guy) but managed to make it to a large log
crossing the stream, after slipping in the mud and being attacked by fire ants
while climbing through some trees. John had his own trials with wasps and
slipping off of a log into the stream. While I was jumping from one fallen tree
to another I missed and filled my boots with water so while on the large log we
used to cross the main stream I paused to empty them. I sat down and raised my
leg to allow the water to run out of my boots.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--mFUzTFhTcQ/Txx049t68QI/AAAAAAAAAho/msSZmrmOhtc/s1600/boat+on+river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--mFUzTFhTcQ/Txx049t68QI/AAAAAAAAAho/msSZmrmOhtc/s320/boat+on+river.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Max yells “Dad, your camera!”
just as I see my camera slip out of my pocket and ker-plunk into the murky
water. I just sat there wondering what to do when I noticed Carlos stripping
down to his skivvies next to me. Well I’m not going to let some guy do my dirty
work so I strip down to my swim trunks and slide into the murky waters of the
upper Amazon. Had I not asked Carlos about piranha this far up the Amazon (the
answer I got was they are further down river) I might have hesitated longer.
Feeling around with my feet I located it and was able to pull it up by its
strap. This is camera # 2 on this trip.
Next we head back up river, stopping at a families farm for lunch. These
people live quite simply in raised wooden shacks and cook on open fires. We had
trout with Yuca, a potato like root that’s a staple through out Colombia and
Ecuador. Next is a wildlife refuge down river about an hour.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aXV_3vSsKlU/Txx1cZnsRFI/AAAAAAAAAhw/acDGlYcvnHU/s1600/crossing+log.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aXV_3vSsKlU/Txx1cZnsRFI/AAAAAAAAAhw/acDGlYcvnHU/s400/crossing+log.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carlos, our guide, and Max crossing the log where moments later I'll<br />
drop my camera!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A very cool place
called Amazoonia. They take in animals that have been illegally sold as pets
and rehabilitate them, setting some loose and keeping the others that they deem
unfit to cope in the wild. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The volunteer who took us around was a German man that went
to school in the states at the same school Charlotte went to. Kind of a
coincidence. After a hour and a
half boat ride back up river we are back in Misahualli. Another night of rain
but without the lightning this time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Photos to follow......</div>
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<br /></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-60899065333119054402012-01-13T04:15:00.000-08:002012-01-13T14:14:07.571-08:00THE HOLIDAYS WITH MY FAMILY<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bpJdSTxHW5g/Tw9dqXUZFEI/AAAAAAAAAbU/Bmji-2cbibA/s1600/Main+Square+at+night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bpJdSTxHW5g/Tw9dqXUZFEI/AAAAAAAAAbU/Bmji-2cbibA/s640/Main+Square+at+night.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cusco Main Square</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
DECEMBER 21ST THROUGH JANUARY 5TH<br />
Since this portion of the trip is not on motos I have taken the liberty to do a photo essay instead of mostly text. Also this will take me less time to do and I'm tried of sitting at this computer today! Max and I flew to Lima Peru on the 21st to meet Charlotte. Staying only 5 hours we then flew to Cusco.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tRO4u3lrqJ4/Tw9Xox60PGI/AAAAAAAAAa0/-0vDh1sFnhI/s1600/Cusco+main+square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tRO4u3lrqJ4/Tw9Xox60PGI/AAAAAAAAAa0/-0vDh1sFnhI/s400/Cusco+main+square.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Main Square in Cusco</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KfA9cUBqjZI/Tw9ZyD6Y3jI/AAAAAAAAAa8/U-mRygMStE4/s1600/Cusco+Street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KfA9cUBqjZI/Tw9ZyD6Y3jI/AAAAAAAAAa8/U-mRygMStE4/s400/Cusco+Street.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cusco Street</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KotmXQcvPn0/Tw9bQvPJGyI/AAAAAAAAAbE/RAGXmUAO208/s1600/Xmas+Market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KotmXQcvPn0/Tw9bQvPJGyI/AAAAAAAAAbE/RAGXmUAO208/s400/Xmas+Market.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once a year on the 23rd Cusco has a big market on the main square. We felt fortunate<br />
to be there for that.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0i3FB2gXrA8/Tw9cQjdF1eI/AAAAAAAAAbM/2XDdtMiK0Ao/s1600/Icurus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0i3FB2gXrA8/Tw9cQjdF1eI/AAAAAAAAAbM/2XDdtMiK0Ao/s320/Icurus.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Icarus my Cusco buddy. He reminded me of my old friend Otis.<br />
While JB was getting his Knicky fix I'd be stopping by for my<br />
Icarus fix.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H0c-BLvvKSg/Tw9fcd7U4JI/AAAAAAAAAbs/Kd51Qf_2y0o/s1600/View+from+our+Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H0c-BLvvKSg/Tw9fcd7U4JI/AAAAAAAAAbs/Kd51Qf_2y0o/s400/View+from+our+Hotel.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View outside our Cusco Hotel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kNfTXX80xIE/Tw9gZaVoNqI/AAAAAAAAAb0/V0wZOXZJxbM/s1600/Xmas+dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kNfTXX80xIE/Tw9gZaVoNqI/AAAAAAAAAb0/V0wZOXZJxbM/s400/Xmas+dinner.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Jewells' Christmas dinner</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xTtRIAx28H8/Tw9hfXy5ttI/AAAAAAAAAb8/E8KQvHCfDGg/s1600/Norton+menu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xTtRIAx28H8/Tw9hfXy5ttI/AAAAAAAAAb8/E8KQvHCfDGg/s400/Norton+menu.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Within a few hours I found my "biker bar". This place is<br />
Owned by some guy from Iowa that has a thing for<br />
British Motorcycles.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9LDHr9oPERE/Tw-HhItYaVI/AAAAAAAAAcM/IJfE7T4Qd8E/s1600/moray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9LDHr9oPERE/Tw-HhItYaVI/AAAAAAAAAcM/IJfE7T4Qd8E/s640/moray.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Moray, a place the Incas built to experiment with different plants and seeds.<br />
Each level has a slightly different micro climate. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--sU9Fp52SKc/TxAbtkmAvaI/AAAAAAAAAdM/rw--S5R9Kg8/s1600/Pisac+rom+ruins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--sU9Fp52SKc/TxAbtkmAvaI/AAAAAAAAAdM/rw--S5R9Kg8/s640/Pisac+rom+ruins.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down at Piscac from the ruins</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AeqOiQ2EjUM/Tw-P2tL_V9I/AAAAAAAAAcU/CgL329uSkZ8/s1600/Moray+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AeqOiQ2EjUM/Tw-P2tL_V9I/AAAAAAAAAcU/CgL329uSkZ8/s400/Moray+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To get an idea of scale, that's 4 people walking down there</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rcCxAlSxDeM/Tw-Q2lpn0iI/AAAAAAAAAcc/F_GsABraKvQ/s1600/Chinchero+ruins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rcCxAlSxDeM/Tw-Q2lpn0iI/AAAAAAAAAcc/F_GsABraKvQ/s400/Chinchero+ruins.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruins at Chinchero. What was most impressive here was the 16th<br />
century church where the interior is completly covered in frescos.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oZxxNT2xKak/Tw-SWpunPwI/AAAAAAAAAck/Y5uGczoTunM/s1600/Ollaytatombo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oZxxNT2xKak/Tw-SWpunPwI/AAAAAAAAAck/Y5uGczoTunM/s640/Ollaytatombo.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ollataytombo. This site and surrounding area is impressive! This site represents the only place<br />
The Incas were able to hold off the Spanish by throwing flaming spears down on them. There are<br />
a number of other sites right around here including thier grainerys they built way up on the side of<br />
the mountains taking advantage of the cooler glacier air that blows through there.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9btAuuMqKdg/Tw-Uljo-DfI/AAAAAAAAAcs/7RU5msXfs2k/s1600/Moto+friends+Ollatitombo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9btAuuMqKdg/Tw-Uljo-DfI/AAAAAAAAAcs/7RU5msXfs2k/s400/Moto+friends+Ollatitombo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some friends we met in Ollataytombo. Lars (the tall one) and his girlfriend<br />
Henriette (the short one) began thier moto trip in Fairbanks, riding thier KLR<br />
and DR650 up to Prudoe Bay and plan to go to the tip of Argentina. The other couple<br />
is from Argentina and are driving to Alaska. Insane!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cZQRsqUo8Js/TxAXheLq1bI/AAAAAAAAAc0/FwW5IEjdkQw/s1600/Family+Machu+Pichu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cZQRsqUo8Js/TxAXheLq1bI/AAAAAAAAAc0/FwW5IEjdkQw/s640/Family+Machu+Pichu.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The grand daddy of them all, Machu Pichu!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cnsz09v1jrY/TxAYD8_MvBI/AAAAAAAAAc8/tB7r8P8EOPQ/s1600/Inca+Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cnsz09v1jrY/TxAYD8_MvBI/AAAAAAAAAc8/tB7r8P8EOPQ/s640/Inca+Bridge.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Inca Bridge at Machu Pichu. This trial, built by the Incas, was thier escape route out<br />
of Machu Pichu. Note the width of the trial and the drop off. They built a rock wall with<br />
a section missing, spanning the missing section with wood planks that could be pulled<br />
away once they got across preventing the Spanish from following them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7YBWQlkohhM/TxAZzysYdbI/AAAAAAAAAdE/pzq_x_VUzPA/s1600/Inca+wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7YBWQlkohhM/TxAZzysYdbI/AAAAAAAAAdE/pzq_x_VUzPA/s400/Inca+wall.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This rockwork is typical of all the Inca sites. All of thier important structures<br />
were built to withstand earthquakes. It worked the walls are still here!<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7JS-VSKmEIo/TxAdrinLiKI/AAAAAAAAAdU/vyGRW5AdViw/s1600/Pisac+road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7JS-VSKmEIo/TxAdrinLiKI/AAAAAAAAAdU/vyGRW5AdViw/s640/Pisac+road.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piscac in the Scared Valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fC8KlwigC7k/TxAebUR7MOI/AAAAAAAAAdc/sYcr5SSD9o4/s1600/Pisac+ruins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fC8KlwigC7k/TxAebUR7MOI/AAAAAAAAAdc/sYcr5SSD9o4/s640/Pisac+ruins.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trial through Pisac ruins</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ABsFhtO3h2M/TxAfLdEHa1I/AAAAAAAAAdk/AJD2L50-89I/s1600/Pisac+ruins+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ABsFhtO3h2M/TxAfLdEHa1I/AAAAAAAAAdk/AJD2L50-89I/s640/Pisac+ruins+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More Pisac</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GmLXlhb52qA/TxAfq8ePgvI/AAAAAAAAAds/wsRb3tmQHX0/s1600/Mom+and+Baby+Pisac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GmLXlhb52qA/TxAfq8ePgvI/AAAAAAAAAds/wsRb3tmQHX0/s400/Mom+and+Baby+Pisac.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mcZ45ODc88o/TxAgOlYSVwI/AAAAAAAAAd0/1l19F-Py9fA/s1600/Piss+pants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mcZ45ODc88o/TxAgOlYSVwI/AAAAAAAAAd0/1l19F-Py9fA/s320/Piss+pants.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Opps! Baby left a present</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8PbDic-gqTM/TxCrkZ8a06I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/CIMXrdghXIg/s1600/Max+Llama+trainer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8PbDic-gqTM/TxCrkZ8a06I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/CIMXrdghXIg/s400/Max+Llama+trainer.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max tring to get the Llama to laugh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AxChfsZbxbE/TxCbD6kZ4eI/AAAAAAAAAd8/7C-5VwMHsUM/s1600/Pisac+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AxChfsZbxbE/TxCbD6kZ4eI/AAAAAAAAAd8/7C-5VwMHsUM/s400/Pisac+house.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical Pisac building</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e9ZqFG_lhhk/TxCsMj4w1EI/AAAAAAAAAeY/EZncjh8Em3Y/s1600/Cooney+Skype.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e9ZqFG_lhhk/TxCsMj4w1EI/AAAAAAAAAeY/EZncjh8Em3Y/s400/Cooney+Skype.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skyping our dear friend Cooney</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-15693924360263764572011-12-26T08:41:00.001-08:002012-01-13T17:55:01.501-08:00COLOMBIA!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
<b>Monday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
Well the first thing that could go
wrong did go wrong. When we docked this morning Fritz informed us our passports
would not be stamped until tonight and our bikes are to remain on the boat
until tomorrow morning. This means any chance of an early start for Medellen
tomorrow has been nixed. We’ll probably spend all morning getting the bikes
imported into Columbia and not get on the road until the afternoon at the
earliest!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6e69KOp8EBA/TwxAvg5PTNI/AAAAAAAAAZM/xNPzDnZZG3k/s1600/Spanish+Fort+Cartagena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6e69KOp8EBA/TwxAvg5PTNI/AAAAAAAAAZM/xNPzDnZZG3k/s400/Spanish+Fort+Cartagena.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We found a apartment, in the old walled city for the night. $24 for a 2 bedroom with
kitchen and living area plus tv. It also has a balcony overlooking the narrow street
we are on. We get settled in then go out to find a ATM. The narrow streets here
are busy with food and merchandise venders hocking their wares. Once outside
the “OLD Town” the avenues widen but still are crowded with traffic and
venders. We walk to the Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas, a huge fort built in
1630 to protect the city from pirates. This has got to be the most impressive
old fort I’ve ever seen. Unfortunatly they wanted $8 to go in so we opted to
view it looking outside in. While walking around it we saw some very poor areas
of town and I was wondering that maybe we best hold our wallets close. Watching
some little kids play soccer Max offered up what was left of his coconut he was
eating and man did they go for it! I thought he might have started a fight but
as it goes the biggest, strongest kid of the bunch ended up with it. We didn’t
stick around to see if he shared any of it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0MEVchlDw6I/TwxBh8Z4CJI/AAAAAAAAAZc/JcdryO91qq4/s1600/The+Fritz+gang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0MEVchlDw6I/TwxBh8Z4CJI/AAAAAAAAAZc/JcdryO91qq4/s400/The+Fritz+gang.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The Fritz Gang</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
That evening we went to the bar
Fritz set up to retrieve our passports. It was run by a fellow Austrian who married
a Colombian women and set up shop here in Cartagena. We of course got there
early and enjoyed a number of cocktails before Fritz and our passports arrived.
Then it was good bye to our new friends and back to our digs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
<b>Tuesday Dec. 13</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
Up and to the docks by 7:30 to
meet up with Fritz The Cat to unload the bikes. We all got back on board and
headed to the newer part of the city to off load. Cartagena is a contrast in
architecture. The newer part is very contemporary with attractive high-rise
apartments built on the water while the older parts have building dating back
to the 1500’s. We unload the bikes and say our farewells to Fritzs and Toulay.
We all then head across town to the customs office to import our bikes. Alex
has gone through the routine before and speaks Spanish fluently. He generously
offers to act as our handler.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M0kET-LoN0E/TwxCCpfY7qI/AAAAAAAAAZk/1i-vpm0wMIo/s1600/Importing+the+bikes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M0kET-LoN0E/TwxCCpfY7qI/AAAAAAAAAZk/1i-vpm0wMIo/s320/Importing+the+bikes.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Importing the bikes in Cartagena</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The Colombian Customs office is a large official
looking building located at a container dock and compared to the previous
borders we have crossed looks promising to be a painless procedure. We all head
over to the local copy office and make copies of the usual documents, hand Alex
our titles and passports and copies and wait. Alex is out in record time! The
first words out of his mouth are “Do you want the bad news first or the bad
news?” It seems that all of our
passport stamps had been dated 2012 instead of 2011. We had to go back to
immigration and get them restamped! Not knowing where the immigration office is
Alex and Max grab our passports and get a cab while we wait in the sweltering
heat. Fortunately it is a short taxi ride and they get there well before noon.
Still they are told they would have to wait until 2:00! After some heated
discussion the officer who made the mistake the day before was called back to
work and stamped the passports with the correct dates. I shouldn’t be surprised
at the incompetence of these government employees but I really thought it would
change once we were in South America. With the properly stamped passports in
hand Alex marched back into the customs office only to be told the official had
gone to lunch and wouldn’t be back till 2:00! I’ll spare you the rest of the
details but we finally had our bikes officially imported into Colombia at 5:30.
Now all we had to do is get to the insurance office before they close (Colombia
requires mandatory insurance. If you are stopped and found to not have the
proper papers they can confiscate the vehicle). We were to late. We rode back
to the Old Town, found a hostel with secure parking and settled in for another
night in Cartagena. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Wednesday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Can anyone remember how our days start? Correct! I have to
tow start Max’s bike! But this time I have to do it in very narrow streets with
cars, carts and oblivious people all about. It takes two tries but we get it
going. After many wrong turns and close calls we find the insurance office
again and buy insurance. This was relatively painless but put us in the middle
of the city at rush hour. It’s always rush hour in these cities. Dufas does a
decent job getting us out of the city.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-00MT6LXN3m4/TwxCzT--pRI/AAAAAAAAAZs/kBYrnUNF80A/s1600/No+our+way+to+Medellin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-00MT6LXN3m4/TwxCzT--pRI/AAAAAAAAAZs/kBYrnUNF80A/s400/No+our+way+to+Medellin.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Gas stop on the road to Medellin</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This place is as bad as Mexico City with
its traffic, busses and people. We end up in a market are totally congested
with buses and the traffic is stopped. I begin worrying about Max’s bike over
heating and stalling. I don’t know what I’ll do if it quits in this mess.
Finally we make it out of the market area and on to a more open highway. We are
moving along pretty well when I look into my mirror and Max is missing! John
and I pull over and I exclaimed “where in the %$$# is Max! “I don’t know, he
disappeared behind a bus a ways back,” John says. Shit! I wait a few minutes
and turn around to look for him. I find him pushing his bike uphill on the
highway with a couple of Colombians helping him. By the time I turn back around
three people on scooters have stopped to give him a hand (I don’t think you
would ever see that in the states). The road is not busy and I successfully tow
start him and we are back on the way. It took 1.5 hours to put Cartagena behind
us but now we are riding in some really beautiful country. It’s been raining
everyday since Arenal in Costa Rica and Colombia is no different. The river we
are following has topped its banks in many places and we see buildings and
roads under water. The rain in this region is way above normal and is causing
mudslides and flooding closing roads all over the country. We are definitely in
the jungle now. The trees and vegetation grows right up to the road and we are
slowly beginning to climb in elevation. We stopped for lunch at an open
roadside restaurant. It’s deferent here in Colombia, the restaurants are big
open air places compared to Central America with its small family run shacks
that line the highways. While eating our friends Gabriel and Cynthia (from the
boat) drive by. We thought it weird they didn’t stop but found out later they
figured we’d catch them. We didn’t see them again until the KTM shop in
Medellin.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9BvaNEzu9YE/TwxY1F9d5uI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/ubQv2VsOOdY/s1600/Fruit+Cart+Paneto+Rico.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9BvaNEzu9YE/TwxY1F9d5uI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/ubQv2VsOOdY/s400/Fruit+Cart+Paneto+Rico.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fruit Cart in Planeto Rica</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We got to Planeto Rica (the halfway point to Medellin) around 5 and
found a hotel. It’s another “by the hour” hotel but is clean and cheap, even if
the roof leaks. We’re all out of cash so we walk down to the city center in
search for a cash machine. The Centro area is comprised of narrow streets
covered with shade cloth stretched across the street from the building roofs.
I’ve never seen this and with the rain hammering down some of the sheets were
coming down, covering the storefronts on the opposite side of the street. We
made it to the town square, found the cash machine, ate some dinner and retired
back to our love nest.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Thursday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are actually on the road by 6:30. We only have to make
200 miles today but we are getting wise to this time/distance thing down here.
Almost immediately the road begins to climb, twisting it’s way up into the
Andes. This is the only road that connects Medellin with the East coast port
city of Cartagena. This equates to lots of trucks! These drivers are nuts! I
mean suicidal! Actually the trucks aren’t as bad as the buses that blindly pass
on curves betting on the unlikely fact there won’t be somebody coming the other
way. The grades are so steep that most the trucks are laboring up in 1<sup>st</sup>
gear, belching black exhaust and barely able to swing around some of the
switchback turns. We spend our time trying to safely past these vehicles,
sometimes 4 at a time. The going is slow and we don’t reach Medellin until
4:30. Dufas does a stellar job of taking us through the afternoon traffic and
finding the Moto Shop where we will drop off our bikes while John and Max has
theirs worked on. I was ecstatic when we pulled into the shop. Hopefully we
won’t have to ever pull start Max’s POS KTM again on this trip! Wishful
thinking you say? A guy has to stay positive or else the fun stops. We also ran
into some other KTM riders there. The four South African 950 riders we met in
Cartagena were there and so were Gabriel and Cynthia from the boat. Three of
the SA guy’s bikes needed work and Gabriel’s 950 quit running. Seems as though
Max’s KTM has found some friends.<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-usoAyG02PU4/TwxaTm6KPvI/AAAAAAAAAaE/OgIMsghMmCo/s1600/KTM+Shop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-usoAyG02PU4/TwxaTm6KPvI/AAAAAAAAAaE/OgIMsghMmCo/s400/KTM+Shop.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>We made it !!!!!!!!!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After exchanging condolences we caught a cab to what will be
our new home for 6 days.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Palm Tree Hostel is located on the other side of
Medellin, about a 30-minute cab ride. The cab costs $5 so who’s complaining.
Our friend Thomas from Skagway recommended this place and was there to meet us.
The recommendation is much appreciated, as this place is great. Friendly staff
and relatively quiet (other than the live band that showed up this night and
played until 2 in the morning!). Thomas introduces us to the Colombian Nation
drink, Aguardiente. Traditionally
used for toasting we continued the tradition well into the night!<o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hGo9UhtkquY/TwxgBdF5-wI/AAAAAAAAAak/-rsAYUS8LVY/s1600/Max+Tomas+Agu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hGo9UhtkquY/TwxgBdF5-wI/AAAAAAAAAak/-rsAYUS8LVY/s400/Max+Tomas+Agu.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Max and Thomas showing off a carton of Aguardiente</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Friday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We begin the search for the KTM parts that were supposed to
have been shipped to the hostel from Texas. Turns out UPS had delivered them
but the Hostel refused delivery. According to UPS they have been sent back to
Bogotá. After many phone calls to UPS in the states and Colombia it turns out
there is nothing anyone can do until Monday. So we change directions and plan
our flight itinerary for Cuzco.
Max and I will fly from Medellin on the evening of Wed. the 21st and
meet up with Charlotte in Lima the morning of the 22<sup>nd</sup>. Mr Briner is staying in Medellin until
the 26th and will meet up with Knicki in Lima and fly on to Cuzco on the 27<sup>th</sup>.
A Metro ride to the Motto Shop to drop off some keys, check in with the other
KTM victims, a little sightseeing and back to the Hostel for some more toasting
to Colombia!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xmmrKddJaek/TwxemkCRgXI/AAAAAAAAAaU/Ncg-IpFSayY/s1600/South+African+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xmmrKddJaek/TwxemkCRgXI/AAAAAAAAAaU/Ncg-IpFSayY/s400/South+African+bike.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>South Africans KTM 950 we saw being loaded up in Puerto Bello<br />Seems the KTM dealer here in Medellin is doing a good repair business</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Saturday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nothing much but some sightseeing and experiencing the
Medellin nightlife. There is a guy that hangs out at the Hostel named Philippi
who is the unofficial Social Director. He also is the volunteer bartender and
unofficial ambassador for Colombia. Maybe three nights a week he organizes a
night out in El Poblado, an upscale neighborhood with 100’s of bars and
nightclubs. Tonight is one of those nights. We gather at the Hostel bar for
beers and shots of Aguardiente and around 11 Philippi begins to herd us cats
into cabs for the drive up to El Poblado. The scene there is unreal! Thousands
of young people wandering the streets in and out of clubs, the women dressed to
the 9’s. My god Colombia does have the most beautiful women although a great
many of them have had augmentation surgery I’ve been told. Around 2:30AM Thomas
and I get a cab back to the hostel. Not sure when Max made it back but a good
time was had by all. Thanks phillipi!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mKXPJ_Czakc/Twxfcgc02TI/AAAAAAAAAac/-4bGPsT3Iiw/s1600/Diana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mKXPJ_Czakc/Twxfcgc02TI/AAAAAAAAAac/-4bGPsT3Iiw/s320/Diana.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Diana, a friend of Thomas' , who helped<br />Max with some Gluten tests</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sunday </b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A bit of a blur. Watched a bit of Soccer. Went over to the
Excedo Colombia, a Wal-Mart like store that sits next to the Hostel. We spot a
UPS store nearby so I thought they might be able to help with the missing
package. With the help of my
trusty translator (actually he handled the whole thing) she looked it up on her
computer and informed us the package was here in Medellin not Bogotá! This was
huge because we didn’t think we would receive it before Wed. if it were in
Bogotá. Wait a minute….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On another screen it says it is in Bogotá. Anyway the bottom
line was she couldn’t help but did suggest we go to the UPS depot in the
morning and maybe they could shed some light on this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Monday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thomas, Max and I catch a cab down to the UPS depot to see
if we can find out where the package is and the best way to get it to us. First
a little history…… As you all know Max’s bike hasn’t been able to start on it’s
own since Costa Rica. We ordered parts from Texas so we could be sure they
would be in Medellin when we got there. Figuring we can leave the bike at the
dealer here in Medellin when we went down to Cusco, it would give us plenty of
time to get the work on the bike done. But like everything else on this trip it
would not be so simple. The shop will be closed from Dec. 24<sup>th</sup> to
Jan. 15 and we are planning to be back on the road by Jan. 6<sup>th</sup>. So
if we can’t get the bike fixed by the 24<sup>th</sup> our departure date from
Medellin will be delayed by a week! So getting these parts is critical.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thomas, my translator (I mean handler) begins the process
all over again and works his magic on the cute lady behind the counter. She
starts searching the various screens then makes a phone call. Thomas over hears
her say something like “should I tell them to wait”. Could it be? Could it be
possible we could get the package today? She tells us to wait and my hopes
begin to grow. Not too much though, I’ve become very skeptical since beginning
this trip. So we take our seats and wait to see what will happen. Five minutes
go by and I see a guy come in from a back room carrying a package! Could it be?
He walks over to the girl and she looks up at us with a smile! Our package has
arrived!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mX6RYYEDlvQ/TwxdO3O57AI/AAAAAAAAAaM/ErnJlF5xJJ8/s1600/The+Package.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mX6RYYEDlvQ/TwxdO3O57AI/AAAAAAAAAaM/ErnJlF5xJJ8/s320/The+Package.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Our UPS Package Arrives!!!!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Like a medical facility transporting a human heart we run out to the
street, hail a cab and get the box up to the Moto Shop. They have already begun
to work on the bike and have found another problem, which may explain other
symptoms the bike has been having. The auto decompression mechanism on the
camshaft has failed. This is a part I replaced before leaving Skagway and has,
in the back of my mine, suspected to not be working correctly from the
beginning. Fred, the owner of the shop, assures me he can get the new cam by
Wed. and have the bike done before they close for the holidays so we leave
feeling pretty good about things. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tuesday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Medellin has a great Metro system that includes two trams
that take you up the sides of the valley to where much of the poorer population
lives. Before the trams it could take up to 2 hours to get down to the valley
where most of the jobs are.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4LiRGeHu3EA/Twxg3DBC5vI/AAAAAAAAAas/B2yneEiBal4/s1600/Medellin+Tram.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4LiRGeHu3EA/Twxg3DBC5vI/AAAAAAAAAas/B2yneEiBal4/s640/Medellin+Tram.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>View of Medellin from tram</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Now it is a 15-minute tram ride. This will be a
field trip today. What an incredible ride through the slums of Medellin. It’s
kind of weird riding above these neighborhoods looking down on the porches and
yards of these underprivileged people. It feels a bit invasive. The overall
view is spectacular. At the top you can see most of Medellin from the tops of
the surrounding mountains to the valley floor. Medellin really is a beautiful
city. Max and I pack for tomorrows flight to Lima.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Wednesday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s off to the Moto Shop to pick up our bikes and put them
in storage for a couple of weeks. We found a place right down the street from
the hostel, which makes it very convent. When we get there John’s bike is still
in the shop with the tank off. This gives me time to wash out my moldy panniers
and give the GS a much deserved bath. Max’s bike isn’t done but Fred assures us
it will be done by Friday and he’ll personally deliver it to our storage before
we return. The one positive thing to say about the POS KTM is that we have been
exposed to some really great shops down here. They all go way beyond what
dealers in the states would go. Fred has allowed me to keep the GS there at no
charge for close to a week. Every morning they had to push the beast out on the
street and back in the shop at night. He also offered shop space to us if we
needed to work on the bikes ourselves. We took up much of their break room
storing our panniers, drybags and helmets. John and I ride back to the Hostel
to sort through my stuff on my bike and then put our steeds into storage for
the duration. Max and I head to the airport around 3:00(a 1hour taxi ride that
costs about $15) to catch our 7:30 flight to Lima. When we get there they have
changed our flight to 4:30, which then is delayed by an hour. The timing works
well and we don’t have to rush. We lay over in Bogotá and arrive in Lima around
12:30 am. Charlotte had arrived an hour before us and already is at the Hostel
and send the girl to come get us. By the time we settle in its 2:00 am. I set
the alarm for 4:00am and crash for 2 hours.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Thursday Dec. 22</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Up at 4:00 and to the airport for our 6:30 flight to Cusco.
Charlotte has a 7:00 flight so it good by for now and see ya in Cusco. I was
looking forward to flying over the Andes into Cusco but the cloud cover
prevented me from seeing anything. At the airport we end up waiting 2.5 hours
for Charlotte. Her plane had been delayed and she didn’t even know it because
the moment she got on the plane she fell sound asleep and didn’t realize the
plan didn’t take off for another hour! Once we all met at the airport it was
off to our hostel. Not! Charlotte lost the paper that had the name. We borrowed
a computer from a tour company and she finally found the email from the hostel
and we headed out to find a cab. Lo and behold there was a woman with a sign
that read “Jewells”. Turns out an airport pickup is included in the price of a
room. Cusco sits at over 10000 feet and you can feel it as soon as you walk up
some stairs. Our hotel is up the hill from the main square and is situated in a
very old building. This is a very cool town, dripping with history everywhere
you turn, both Inca and Colonial. I’ll let the pictures describe in more detail
what its’ like here. After settling in our room we go out and explore the
neighborhood. I immediately find the Norton Rat Bar that sits right over the
main square. A guy from Iowa who loves Norton motorcycles started this place.
It is defiantly a “biker” bar with posters of old English motorcycles all over
the walls. Beer and dinner, some more sightseeing around the square and we hit
the sack for a well deserved sleep.<o:p></o:p></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-26063031750246896912011-12-12T11:52:00.001-08:002012-01-10T05:35:21.754-08:00THE PANAMA PASSAGE<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KsMG2uD8dLs/TwtyOoto4aI/AAAAAAAAAWc/Vbdm363tjkA/s1600/View+from+Captgain+Jacks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KsMG2uD8dLs/TwtyOoto4aI/AAAAAAAAAWc/Vbdm363tjkA/s400/View+from+Captgain+Jacks.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>View from Captn' Jacks</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tuesday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tow start the KTM and we are on the rode by 8. I can’t
believe the amount of police on the road. There is literally one cycle cop
every 5kms along the road looking for speeders.<o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wc-Zf1JBvwc/TwtymGCaIjI/AAAAAAAAAWk/exue8mw6sI4/s1600/Captian+Jacks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wc-Zf1JBvwc/TwtymGCaIjI/AAAAAAAAAWk/exue8mw6sI4/s400/Captian+Jacks.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Captain Jacks Hostel, Puerto Bello PA.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had one security check where they checked our passports
and drivers license. I pulled out my international drivers license for the
first time. By now it’s been in my jacket for 8 weeks getting folded, mutilated
and wet. Anyway he looks at it as if he’s never seen one before. He didn’t even
get to my picture and hands it back with a shrug. He goes through the same
thing with Max and John then waves us on. After all the stories of roadblocks
and crooked cops we haven’t had to pay a bribe yet. Having 3 of us instead of 1
helps a lot. Plus my helmet cam may play a part. Anyway we managed to hook around Panama City without getting
lost. The next thing we know we are on the bridge going over the Canal with a
great view both ways. A very
impressive sight. After crossing we found ourselves on a beautiful jungle road
winding it’s way to a big, fast toll road to Colon. From there we turned North
up the coast highway to Portobelo. We made it!!!!!!!!!!!<o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nka2S1yHcWs/TwtzxCc_PMI/AAAAAAAAAWs/aPGvYD-4QDw/s1600/Puerto+Bello+PA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nka2S1yHcWs/TwtzxCc_PMI/AAAAAAAAAWs/aPGvYD-4QDw/s400/Puerto+Bello+PA.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Puerto Bello Street</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is where we catch the sailboat to Cartagena, Columbia
and has been in question since the POS KTM started acting up. I was so happy to
get here I didn’t even get out of my riding gear before the celebration began
starting with beer and ending with a “Don’t Screw with Me”, dark rum and orange
juice. We stayed at Captain Jacks, a hostel that I fell in love with at first
sight. Bar, Restaurant and private room. Can’t beat that for $11 bucks a night.
Talk about a place to meet interesting characters, this little port is a magnet
for world cruisers. Not the kind we get in Skagway but the kind that sail their
sailboats boats around the world. I met this one guy (of course I forgot to get
his name) that holds the Guinness Book of World Records for circumnavigating
the globe sailing west to the East. Captain Jack has also sailed around the
world living in some way cool places along the way.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QCuGgBDfXSM/Twt0cdm3WtI/AAAAAAAAAW0/NFPxHo4-Tcs/s1600/Loading+some+KTMs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QCuGgBDfXSM/Twt0cdm3WtI/AAAAAAAAAW0/NFPxHo4-Tcs/s320/Loading+some+KTMs.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Loading 1 of 4 KTM950 to take out to boat<br />We will run into them later on the trip</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Portobelo once was the
richest port in the whole Caribbean but now is a very laid back village with
fishing and drinking it’s main pastime. The locals seemly are living right at
minimal poverty. There is one grocery story, a few places to stay and some of
the most impressive ruins I’ve seen. The fort there was built in the 1500’s and
most of it is still there. It was built by Spain to house the gold and silver
brought overland from the west. Of course this place became a magnet for
pirates. This is the place that inspired Pirates of The Caribbean. Pirates
destroyed the town at least three different times. Very little restoration has
taken place so most of it stands untouched (except the northern portion which
the Army Core of Engineers felt necessary to dismantle and use the materials
for a breakwater while constructing the Panama Canal). There is also a 2 story
customs house still standing that was built in the 1600’s that is being used as
a museum of sorts. <o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mECGl_ORROY/Twt1As3LpPI/AAAAAAAAAW8/_qzkrsWHDbs/s1600/Boat+in+P+B+Harbor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mECGl_ORROY/Twt1As3LpPI/AAAAAAAAAW8/_qzkrsWHDbs/s320/Boat+in+P+B+Harbor.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Bummer!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<b>Wednesday Nov. 8</b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day has come. Today we load the bikes on the catamaran
Fritz The Cat. I have to say I’ve been feeling a little anxious about this.
Loading my 600# moto on a sailboat that is moving up and down on a 8” wet plank
sloped at 30 degrees has giving me pause. When we arrived at the dock they were
in the process of loading another guys KLR. There were 5 or 6 locals “helping”
which didn’t do much to help my anxiety. The guy was trying to ride the bike up
the ramp and began spinning the rear wheel. It looked bad but with the “help”
of the locals they got it on board. I should take this moment explain my
thoughts when I first laid eyes on the boat. “It’s too frigg’n small to hold 6 bikes and 15 passengers!”. The boat is 15 mts x 8.5 mts and after loading and
stowing all the gear I still think “it’s
too frigg’n small!”<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nzRDjCg788E/Twt1nqiervI/AAAAAAAAAXE/e3UkAxVUe0I/s1600/Waiting+to+load.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nzRDjCg788E/Twt1nqiervI/AAAAAAAAAXE/e3UkAxVUe0I/s320/Waiting+to+load.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Waiting for my turn</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyway it’s what we have and I’m making the best of it.
After watching the first two bikes get loaded it was Max’s turn. Of course we
all know by now it won’t start so they have no choice but to push it up the
plank. It went up without a hitch. No screaming engine, no spinning rear tire,
no problem. This is a boat that has made this crossing 94 times. I’m assuming
they had bikes on it most crossings and each time the poor rider had to ride
their bike up the plank. Anyway it was so easy to push Max’s bike we decided to
try pushing my fat gal up the plank. No sweat! All that worrying for nothing!
They found room to lash all 6 bikes down and we are on our way to Cartagenia
Columbia! The captain is a big jolly Austrian with an infectious laugh. He has
a girlfriend of 18 years who also helps on board and a young guy named Jose who
helps with the boat and cooks.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1uq5VYCGBNg/Twt3bt_4MrI/AAAAAAAAAXk/zwkQhYJ-_hg/s1600/Bikes+on+the+%2522Fritz%2522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1uq5VYCGBNg/Twt3bt_4MrI/AAAAAAAAAXk/zwkQhYJ-_hg/s320/Bikes+on+the+%2522Fritz%2522.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Bikes all loaded</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Briner has accurately described the boat as a
“floating Hostel at sea.” Fritz assigns every one a cabin. Max and Johns cabin
is 2.5’x 7’ x 6’ high. In it there is one small fan that works and a 8” x 12”
vent hatch at the top for limited ventilation. There are also two beds, an
upper (Johns) and a lower (Max’s). The lower one is shaped to fit within the
pontoon and feels much like a sarcophagus must feel like if lying in one. They
are the lucky ones. I’ve been assigned to a large bed in the salon that measures
7’ x 6’. This bed is to accommodate 4 people! These are not friends, nor family
but complete strangers. I decide to take my changes on the aft deck and find a
small corner that I can call my own. This works well as long as I can out last
our rum-drinking friends on board who use this area as party central.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PCVWtRvkG6E/Twt3-wBEg0I/AAAAAAAAAXs/Gtj0-txANHY/s1600/Finally+out+to+sea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PCVWtRvkG6E/Twt3-wBEg0I/AAAAAAAAAXs/Gtj0-txANHY/s320/Finally+out+to+sea.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>At sea finally</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The boat
itself has a mainsail and a Jib and uses a 75hp diesel engine to supplement the
wind. It actually has two engines but one seems to have some issue with the
main bearings so we will use one for this trip. One is fine unless it quits
then its wind power! Slower but quieter.
We have the bikes loaded, gear stowed and all the passports stamped by
15:30 and we set sail at 16:00. We are sailing SE along the Panama coast
heading for the San Blas Islands. We reach our first stop in the San Blas at
23:00 and anchor for the night.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Thursday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
Sleeping on deck allows me to wake
with the sun and I’m up at 6. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. This is an
island paradise!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3qaLo33avXU/Twt48BxOXJI/AAAAAAAAAX0/nVinWRWKrMw/s1600/On+the+reef.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3qaLo33avXU/Twt48BxOXJI/AAAAAAAAAX0/nVinWRWKrMw/s320/On+the+reef.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
We are anchored in a bay that’s protected on four sides with
small islands and a reef with only a very narrow passage to get the boat
through. The water is turquoise and there is a tiny island right in front of
the boat that has two thatched huts. The family is just getting their day
started and you can see a fire going between the huts and a woman shaking out
the sleeping mats. I feel like a peeping tom but am intrigued with the whole
scene. These are the Kuna people. They are the indigenous people of the area
who occupy the San Blas Archipelago. They still live a very primitive
lifestyle. Their main income is selling coconuts but they also make and sell
different crafts, mostly beaded jewelry and occasionally sell back to the
dealers the bricks of cocaine that wash up on their beaches. Our skipper warns us not to take any
coconuts off the islands but to buy them from the natives. The cost ….25c. We
spend the day snorkeling around the reefs and drinking rum.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NfOypvTwc4A/Twt5TTfqe-I/AAAAAAAAAX8/pgnE7DjT5e8/s1600/San+Blas+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NfOypvTwc4A/Twt5TTfqe-I/AAAAAAAAAX8/pgnE7DjT5e8/s400/San+Blas+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The food on board
is great and we get 3 large meals a day. Fritz was a chef in a previous life
and has trained Jose well! Tonight we travel just 4 hours to our next
anchorage.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
<b>Friday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
After breakfast we all go
snorkeling. Some of the guys take along spear guns and return with a lionfish.
These things have poisonous stingers on their bodies but evidentially are worth
the trouble of cleaning because they taste so good. We then moved to another
place and anchored up. The snorkeling here was superb with many different types
of coral and a huge variety of fish. The biggest I saw was a Stingray about a
meter across. Another night of rum and music sleeping on the deck and living
the dream….<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3DPsyDWM0E/Twt5w5Ej6sI/AAAAAAAAAYE/tu3DXPPgnSI/s1600/KunaWoman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3DPsyDWM0E/Twt5w5Ej6sI/AAAAAAAAAYE/tu3DXPPgnSI/s400/KunaWoman.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Kuna house</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
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<b>Saturday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
After breakfast a bunch of us took
the dingy over to a nearby island to meet some locals and explore a little.
While we were motoring across a couple of Kuna women are paddling a dugout
canoe (their main means of transportation) out to our boat but when they saw us
they turned around and followed us back to their village. The village (an
Island about 300 yards long by 75 yards long) consisted of a half dozen
thatched huts, three dogs, a few scrawny chickens, a duck (a type I’ve never
seen before) and maybe twenty men, women and children. The women dress in
colorful skirts and have these beaded strands woven around their ankles and
calves. The children and men dress much like we do. They are very friendly and
immediately go get their good they sell and spread them out on the sand (I
guess we are not the first white people they’ve had visit them).<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GHFCdqqtzyc/Twt6GO6A4zI/AAAAAAAAAYM/G4tPVI1DfVk/s1600/San+Blas+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GHFCdqqtzyc/Twt6GO6A4zI/AAAAAAAAAYM/G4tPVI1DfVk/s320/San+Blas+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A Kuna Woman</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I’m bummed I
didn’t bring any money; shit I didn’t even have a quarter for a coconut! From a
distance these islands look perfect but when you get close you see that they
all are lined with plastic garbage that has washed up from all over the globe.
They do use some stuff to build their homes, nylon rope, some pieces of roofing
and the like but they have little use for the plastic bottles, various plastic
shoes (these never travel in pairs) and all other sorts of garbage that doesn’t
decompose. So there it all sits along the shores of these beautiful tiny
islands. At 17:00 we wey anchor and begin our crossing to Cartagena. The
weather hasn’t been the greatest with lots of rain but it so turns worse.
Thunder, lightning and relatively big seas take its toll on just about everyone
on board. My little corner of the boat becomes the sick bay and I’m out of a
home.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qnGkMTo6H4E/Twt6bGcML8I/AAAAAAAAAYU/MHrHpAK5ET4/s1600/San+Blas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qnGkMTo6H4E/Twt6bGcML8I/AAAAAAAAAYU/MHrHpAK5ET4/s640/San+Blas.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The captain has a no hard alcohol rule while out on the open ocean but
has little trouble enforcing it, the last thing anybody, including me, wants is
a bolt of rum! Most of the
passengers that have enjoyed the privacy of their own cabins have now decided
the open air of the aft deck out trumps the privacy of their rooms.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AnobiA-Le2E/Twt6vBrimRI/AAAAAAAAAYc/7JzReTHeLhY/s1600/The+social+area.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AnobiA-Le2E/Twt6vBrimRI/AAAAAAAAAYc/7JzReTHeLhY/s400/The+social+area.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The social area, i.e. my sleeping quarters</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Fortunately
for me Briner is also feeling a little punky and decides what little space that
is left on the aft deck would be better than his and Max’s stuffy room so I
grab his bunk for the night. Now that we are underway we all take watch shifts.
The skipper has the boat on autopilot and needs eyes out to look for other
boats and wake him if we go off course. I volunteer for the early morning shift.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
<b>Sunday<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I’m up at 05:00 and enjoy the early morning with John
watching out for boats and generally just shooting the shit. The morning finds little improvement on
the condition of the weather and of the people on board.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P1jBUu5SaZg/Twt7LZTLAPI/AAAAAAAAAYk/ciw33gBeWK4/s1600/Sick+crew.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P1jBUu5SaZg/Twt7LZTLAPI/AAAAAAAAAYk/ciw33gBeWK4/s320/Sick+crew.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Sea sick passengers</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
No one is in the
partying mood anymore and they just want to feel better. Around noon the
weather improves and the sea dies down allowing us to go up front and get some
much needed fresh air. I spend most of the afternoon laying around on the
forward trampling (if that’s how you spell it). I also did some map work today
and it almost looks doable to get to Cusco by the 23th. That is if all the
border crossings go well and the POS KTM holds up. What could possibly go
wrong! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
Monday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 102.0pt;">
Well the first thing that could go
wrong did go wrong. When we docked this morning Fritz informed us our passports
would not be stamped until tonight and our bikes are to remain on the boat until
tomorrow morning. This means any chance of an early start for Medellen tomorrow
has been nixed. We’ll probably spend all morning getting the bikes imported
into Columbia and not get on the road until the afternoon at the earliest!<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vrkRrOn4wic/Twt7nR5NfgI/AAAAAAAAAYs/R4whkxTCXOA/s1600/Sunset+over+GS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vrkRrOn4wic/Twt7nR5NfgI/AAAAAAAAAYs/R4whkxTCXOA/s640/Sunset+over+GS.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AmCxQ-Hr5hA/Twt8CqA-T8I/AAAAAAAAAY0/sYIsk2PMruQ/s1600/Cartagena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AmCxQ-Hr5hA/Twt8CqA-T8I/AAAAAAAAAY0/sYIsk2PMruQ/s400/Cartagena.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Cartagena!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6VbG2PWglzw/Twt8oIOXvGI/AAAAAAAAAY8/q3IOyvDaqR8/s1600/Fritz+the+Cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6VbG2PWglzw/Twt8oIOXvGI/AAAAAAAAAY8/q3IOyvDaqR8/s640/Fritz+the+Cat.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fritz The Cat, Caragena CO.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fwTk5xJb15U/Tww-TAVQxkI/AAAAAAAAAZE/O3yms46IRlk/s1600/Fritz+and+Toulay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fwTk5xJb15U/Tww-TAVQxkI/AAAAAAAAAZE/O3yms46IRlk/s640/Fritz+and+Toulay.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Captian Fritz and his lovely girlfriend Tulay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-40743400174244584632011-12-07T10:15:00.001-08:002012-01-09T14:23:14.932-08:00WE MADE IT!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gikVht0sl7Q/Tws0Za770HI/AAAAAAAAATs/GC_TQB_m0js/s1600/Bikes+parked+Hostel+Madrid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gikVht0sl7Q/Tws0Za770HI/AAAAAAAAATs/GC_TQB_m0js/s400/Bikes+parked+Hostel+Madrid.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>PRIVATE PARKING IN LEON</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Monday<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We go to breakfast at a great place. Eggs, bacon and
potatoes. Good old American eats! And great coffee! Stopped by a local tour
office and set up a tour for the afternoon. Took some talking into but
convinced Max he needed to get a little history of the area. Then spent some
time catching up on the blog. We meet up with the tour guide and did a 2 hour
walking tour of Leon. He covered a lot of politico history and then took us to
the big cathedral where we spent way too much time. Guess I’m a little jaded
when it comes to cathedrals.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MuKPNM6rMR8/Tws0yHo0X8I/AAAAAAAAAT0/3HbV8sAULa8/s1600/Cathedral+in+Leon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MuKPNM6rMR8/Tws0yHo0X8I/AAAAAAAAAT0/3HbV8sAULa8/s400/Cathedral+in+Leon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathredal in Leon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Maybe too many tours through the years but it
seemed to me they all begin to look the same. Don’t get me wrong this was a
magnificent building dating back to the 1600’s with the usual stories about
miracles and such but I was more interested in contemporary history. After the
church he took us to a very bizarre museum. I’ve been to similar museums in
different 3<sup>rd</sup> world countries. This one was called a historical/myth
museum. It was in a prison used by the Contras during the 70’s to house Sandinista
prisoners. But there was very little info about that except these weird
drawings on the wall depicting prisoners being tortured. Most of the displays
were these crude manikins wearing bizarre costumes representing different myths
of the area. It might have been a little interesting if he described the
meaning of the myths instead of just telling us the mythical name of the ugly
lady with blackened skin and yellow teeth!<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally after 2 hours of this he set us free and, without
hesitation John and I went for a beer. <o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TGuPo5slKbI/Tws1K1qzy7I/AAAAAAAAAT8/_ulPhR7BhQ8/s1600/3+Gringos+Leon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TGuPo5slKbI/Tws1K1qzy7I/AAAAAAAAAT8/_ulPhR7BhQ8/s400/3+Gringos+Leon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Leon Nic.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Tuesday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Adios to our Palestinian hosts, an early breakfast and we’re
off to Costa Rica! We made the border by 2, riding on CA2 and figured we’d be
exported out and imported in by 3. The exporting part in Nicaragua went well
although we did cheat a little and use a handler for part of it. We then drove
on to the Costa Rica side and that’s when the paper started flying! First the
fumigation, needed papers for that, then immigration, more paperwork and
finally the import process! They wanted the usual, original title, passport,
drivers license, proof on insurance which sent us to yet another unmarked
building 100 of meters away, multiple copies of all documents which sent us to
another unmarked building 100 of meters in the opposite direction.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9Tg2Vauci5A/Tws1mb-AqmI/AAAAAAAAAUE/jBIG3YumiaE/s1600/Bike+Leaving+Hotek+Madrid+Leon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9Tg2Vauci5A/Tws1mb-AqmI/AAAAAAAAAUE/jBIG3YumiaE/s400/Bike+Leaving+Hotek+Madrid+Leon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Leaving Hoset Madrid, Leon</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After
getting all the together the customs guy stamps and hands back my paper work.
Cool I’m done! NOT! We need to go to another unspecified building for the final
approval. We ride off in search of that place, stopping at 2 other buildings
before finding the proper one hidden in a sea of trucks and trailers. Waiting
30 minutes it is finally my turn and I hand over my ream of papers. The man
looks at me with a scowl, hands back my papers pointing to the stamp I got at
the previous office. “Not signed!”. Are you kidding me! I’ve got to go back
just to get a scribbled signature from the dunce who’s only job is to stamp and
sign this document. It’s a good thing most people with in shouting distance did
not understand English but if they did they would have heard a gringo screaming
“you mother $$#%^ &%%$%^$& ^%$%^^$$#^ Son of a %#W$#@ bureaucrats!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vkG0QPTUqtM/Tws2lk21VoI/AAAAAAAAAUM/oh_LsYoe4FA/s1600/Volcano+Leon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vkG0QPTUqtM/Tws2lk21VoI/AAAAAAAAAUM/oh_LsYoe4FA/s320/Volcano+Leon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>They build great Volcanos down!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
3 and ½ hours it took so now it’s
getting dark and we have 40 miles to ride to get to Liberia and a hotel. Within
a couple of miles we hit our 1<sup>st</sup> roadblock. They check our passports
and let us go. Oh oh I forgot I’ve no tail lights. “John stay real close behind
me as we leave”. Phew, dodged another bullet. 10 more miles down the road we hit the 2<sup>nd</sup>
roadblock. Same thing and off we go. When we are stopped a 3<sup>rd</sup> time
I’m thinking, “this is excessive”. But no problem and we’re on our way again.
We get Liberia around 7, find a hotel and head out to Mongo’s for dinner. Ribs
rice and beans! Um um good! I phone Frits and Mayela (friends from the Yukon
who live and have a business down here in the Winter) to let them know we’ll
see them tomorrow.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MqgW8l1sIZc/Tws6avyf2-I/AAAAAAAAAU8/gRK1TIwU1Wg/s1600/Worried+look+at+the+border.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MqgW8l1sIZc/Tws6avyf2-I/AAAAAAAAAU8/gRK1TIwU1Wg/s400/Worried+look+at+the+border.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>What me worry?</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Wednesday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Breakfast at Mongos. They do dinner much better than
breakfast. Max and I go in search of oil. We find the oil and light bulbs for
me. We ride out to Frits and Mayela’s who live just down the road from Nocoya.
They have built a restaurant out there complete with a swimming pool, a Tilapia
pond and beautiful landscaping. I can’t believe the amount of work that has
gone into that place, most of which they have done themselves. Max and I change
our oil. Mine took 30 minutes and the POS KTM took 2 hours! After we head down
to the restaurant where Mayela cooks up a scrumptious meal of Tilapia and all
the fixings. Chuck and Marilyn, the couple that own Caribou Crossing (for those
of you familiar with the Yukon area) also joined us for dinner.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sOmdcZ75XjA/Tws4Jw521sI/AAAAAAAAAUc/buRLXhALQqA/s1600/Libria+Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sOmdcZ75XjA/Tws4Jw521sI/AAAAAAAAAUc/buRLXhALQqA/s320/Libria+Hotel.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Hostel in Liberia CR</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
They have an
awesome house on the same property as the restaurant and also spend the winters
here. Great evening with great stories. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thursday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While changing his oil Max discovered his pannier frame had
broken. So after breakfast John and I rode out to the beach and Max went in
search of welder. We all were successful! John and I found some awesome
beaches, had a great lunch and went swimming and Max got the POS KTM welded up.
Last night Frits told us a story about a guy who built his own sailboat and
sailed around the world with his wife who lives in the area. This got Max’s
curiosity up so after getting the bike fixed he went out to find this guy.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6-ud5FhiVt0/Tws4ofKuGhI/AAAAAAAAAUk/sz4Xi0C5GOo/s1600/Frits+and+Maylas+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6-ud5FhiVt0/Tws4ofKuGhI/AAAAAAAAAUk/sz4Xi0C5GOo/s320/Frits+and+Maylas+house.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Frits and Maylas House</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Max
finds him and spends a couple of hours with him and his wife. Sounds like an
interesting character. In 1972 he rode a Norton from California to Panama
blowing numerous head gaskets on the way. Back in 72 I too had a Norton. Every
time I tried to leave town it broke down. I couldn’t even get as far as Santa
Cruz let alone Panama! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dinner tonight is at Chuck and Marilyn’s. Marilyn cooked up
Chicken Cordon Blu and it was delicious! Great to be eating home cooked meals 2
nights in a row! While at their house we were visited by three Armadillos. 4
years ago a skinny starving Armadillo showed up and they began feeding it.
Since then he and his friends have been coming around pretty regular. He
actually plays with you like a dog, they feed them hot dogs and they eat right
out of your hand, the big one sitting up and lets you scratch him on his belly.
<o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wezorl6OiBE/Tws5Mqx9WhI/AAAAAAAAAUs/jTMGqqB707Q/s1600/Changing+oil+at+Frits+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wezorl6OiBE/Tws5Mqx9WhI/AAAAAAAAAUs/jTMGqqB707Q/s320/Changing+oil+at+Frits+.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Changing oil in Frits's Garage<br />Sorry about the mess!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Friday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We would have loved to stay another couple of days. Today
Frits and Mayela open their restaurant for another season and on Saturday the
little village near them is hosting 100 horsemen for some sort of celebration.
But again our boat beckons and I want to see monkeys and volcanoes before
leaving Costa Rica. Our ride today takes us across the North western tip of the
Gulfo De Nicoya , East to the Pan American Highway, then Northwest to Canas.
Not much to talk about just flat farms and fields. At Canas we turn onto 142
and begin to climb towards Laguna De Arenal. We stop for lunch in Tilaran then ride down to the lake.
We are getting into the cloud forest here and the temperature drops down to a
comfortable temp.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yCXTaHwIZ6g/Tws55NsJIXI/AAAAAAAAAU0/1XIne7lpEsk/s1600/Me%252C+Frits+and+Max+Tulapia+pond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yCXTaHwIZ6g/Tws55NsJIXI/AAAAAAAAAU0/1XIne7lpEsk/s400/Me%252C+Frits+and+Max+Tulapia+pond.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Me, Frits and Max at the Talopia Pond</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We have to circle the lake to get to our destination, Parque
National Arenal. Arenal Volcano is an active volcano where on a clear night you
can see the lava flows and is situated in a cloud forest, an area where the
moist air climbs the mountains then condenses into clouds and rain. Thus it’s a
crap shoot to even see the volcano. While driving around the lake I make a
wrong turn which begins a series of events which will haunt us for days to
come…..<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Actually that’s a little melodramatic. I realize my mistake
and stop to look at the map. Max and John come up and shut off their bikes.
Well you probably already guessed it. Max’s POS KTM would not start! Now it’s
the starter motor.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5afYZbYbXew/Tws7ChnK99I/AAAAAAAAAVE/-lEvKLEBG7M/s1600/Frits+and+Mayla+orchard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5afYZbYbXew/Tws7ChnK99I/AAAAAAAAAVE/-lEvKLEBG7M/s320/Frits+and+Mayla+orchard.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Frits and Mayla in thier beautiful Orchard</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It sounds like it is turning but just grinding gears.
Fortunately there is a steep hill right there so Max takes off to try to bump
start it. Well it’s a dead end and the bike didn’t fire. So now we have to push
the POS KTM back up the steep hill. Now what? We try push starting the bike on
the highway but no luck. Then we tried the tow method that never works. Max
holds the tow strap in his left hand while holding the clutch in and the other
end attaches on my bike. I think “this isn’t going to end well” but Max assures
me he’s done it before. Well it didn’t work. As I begin to pull I notice Max is
no longer behind me, he’s right next to me on my left! That won’t work and soon
both bikes are on the ground! I find a new use for my helmet, pulling it off
and throwing it as far as I can. I’m pissed! Opps forgot my camera was attached
to the helmet!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SMFl8UYkbB0/Tws7kANIcRI/AAAAAAAAAVM/7_RD3VXTZ4k/s1600/Fritz+Restuarnt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SMFl8UYkbB0/Tws7kANIcRI/AAAAAAAAAVM/7_RD3VXTZ4k/s320/Fritz+Restuarnt.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Frits and Maylas restaurant</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Then it begins to rain for the first time on the trip! I next
ride down the road looking for a possible place to stay or at least work on the
POS KTM. The first place I see is a yoga /meditation hostel. I was tempted but
continued on until I found a run down restaurant and hotel and thought this
would be more appropriate with my mood. It also was down hill the whole way so
Max tried bump starting it again. Bam! It started so we continued on to our
Hostel at Arenal. It was a great ride around the lake but I couldn’t appreciate
it because we were once again fighting daylight and worrying about the POS KTM.
We arrived at the Essence Arenal Hostel just before dark. I picked this place
based on the Lonely Planet write up. They raved about the food and the rooms
were a great deal. It was also located at the top of a very high hill (all the
better to start Max’s bike when the time comes). The Essence lived up to the
Lonely Planets praise.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ni-9Up2zAxc/Tws8X6bUbVI/AAAAAAAAAVU/PAeWwhADMH4/s1600/Me+GS+Samara+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ni-9Up2zAxc/Tws8X6bUbVI/AAAAAAAAAVU/PAeWwhADMH4/s400/Me+GS+Samara+beach.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Me at Sameria Beach CR</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's all vegetarian with a lot of the food being grown
right on the property. They also incourage you to participate in the
preparation of the meal (this I generally hide from but in this case it was
actually fun). We helped with preparing the dough for a fried bread. The whole atmosphere and friendliness
of this place really helped put my head in a much better space. We immediately
decide to stay 2 nights. The clouds cleared a little but not enough to see the
volcano top that night.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GZq38Tk7FRY/Tws-nz_LK1I/AAAAAAAAAVc/BfBzls8g3Hs/s1600/beginning+of+starter+Problems.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GZq38Tk7FRY/Tws-nz_LK1I/AAAAAAAAAVc/BfBzls8g3Hs/s320/beginning+of+starter+Problems.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>And then the starter went out....</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Saturday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday begins with a 6am hike around the property.
Everything is just waking up. Birds, monkeys and even the chickens. This is the
best time to be in the jungle. The noise level goes from zero to 100% in just a
few minutes with the Howler monkeys leading the way! The hike takes us down to
a creek and back up to the hillside where they grow their veggies, herbs and
fruit. We see lots of birds, mostly Parrots and get a great view of the lake
below. We get back in time for a great breakfast. This chef is awesome! Then Max and I go into KTM repair mode.
Off comes the seat and tank, this has to happen to access anything pertaining
to the engine. Then I dive into the starter while Max disassembles the carb and
checks the plug. The starter seems to be working so next I take the cover off
that exposes the intermediate gears.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E9cL_c6lvv4/Tws_Gv8ZPQI/AAAAAAAAAVk/RI--mIK7Chk/s1600/Volan+Arenal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E9cL_c6lvv4/Tws_Gv8ZPQI/AAAAAAAAAVk/RI--mIK7Chk/s400/Volan+Arenal.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Volcan Arenal</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There I find part of the problem. The gear
is missing 3 teeth! Looking further I find all three teeth in the stator.
Fortunately they didn’t make it to the crankcase where they could have done
real damage. Now Kelly, one of the owners of the place gets into the mix. He’s
famerilar with these bikes and calls the KTM dealer in San Jose (the only KTM
dealer in Central America). They
may have a starter and the gear in stock! The other partner happens to be in
San Jose and might be able to pick them up for us. It being Saturday this is
our only shot. Our hope soars! Only to be let down when KTM calls back to tell
us they were mistaken and don’t have the gear. We put the bike back together
and resign ourselves to finding other methods of getting the bike going.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hivV896DiRE/TwtkCK9A_iI/AAAAAAAAAVs/Lfh6MDLnVOM/s1600/Prusing+Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hivV896DiRE/TwtkCK9A_iI/AAAAAAAAAVs/Lfh6MDLnVOM/s320/Prusing+Map.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Hard at work trip planning</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Another wonderful dinner and no sight of the volcano. It has been raining most
the day and is not letting up for the night. I sleep uneasy anticipating the
ride down the mountain after all that rain. I’m expecting a mud slide all the
way down (8kms worth).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sunday Dec. 4</b><sup><o:p></o:p></sup></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<sup> </sup> We pack up the bikes (this has gotten so
routine we have gone from taking an hour to load down to 20 minutes) we do this
like robots, whether we are carrying on a conversation or not. Totally
automatic. It’s been raining all night and dosen’t look as though it will let
up so we soldier on.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HZ0sYydOJM4/TwtkpDz2q_I/AAAAAAAAAV0/rb5siTQJHyM/s1600/Monkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HZ0sYydOJM4/TwtkpDz2q_I/AAAAAAAAAV0/rb5siTQJHyM/s640/Monkey.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Howler Monkey in nearby tree</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Max leaves first, bump starting the KTM successfully! The
road out isn’t as bad as I thought it would be and we make it down to the
highway without incidence.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qT68vpY4cFI/TwtlGCWiN9I/AAAAAAAAAV8/pCu0G68qRhI/s1600/Leaving+Areinal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qT68vpY4cFI/TwtlGCWiN9I/AAAAAAAAAV8/pCu0G68qRhI/s400/Leaving+Areinal.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Leaving Arenal in the rain</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Kelly gave us directions to get to the Coast Highway
the “short way”. This turns out to be a tiny road that winds up and down
through the mountains, in and out of the clouds. There are lots of small
villages but for the first time the signage is good and I make no wrong turns.
The first big town we come into is San Ramone. This is where Max stalls the
KTM on a busy, flat avenue. After much discussion we decide the tow method is
our only option. This time I hook up the tow line to his frame and this works
like a champ as lone as he doesn’t brake too hard (jerking the shit out of me)
or too soft (winding the strap in his front wheel). We find a restaurant sitting on a hill (this becomes a
common theme because of the POS KTM) and have lunch with a French Canadian who
lives on the beach down in Bejuco, on the Pacific side of CR. He’s riding his
Harley up to his second home near San Jose. Seems he’s done pretty well
manufacturing tanning beds. Now we are riding on the Pacific coast where we
will stay until Panama City.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-na5Kin53xa8/TwtnzX93afI/AAAAAAAAAWE/Izu55gIqXwI/s1600/Good+digs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-na5Kin53xa8/TwtnzX93afI/AAAAAAAAAWE/Izu55gIqXwI/s400/Good+digs.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Our Cool Digs Uvita CR</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Hoping to get closer to the Panama border, we are
once again stopped by night coming on. We leave the main highway at Uvita in
search of a eluvsive Hostel by the Sea. We never did find that but we did find
a really nice place with individual bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen and living
room. A far cry from what I thought we’d get. This place was the Ritz! Each
cabin was built using 4” Cedar logs and the craftsmanship was very good. They
are owned by a Canadian and must be hurting for guests because I got it for 40%
off without even working them too hard. I cooked up a scrumish chicken stew
dinner using a freeze-dried package that was at least 5 years old. At least
that’s my excuse for screwing up a freeze-dried dinner. Never could get the
consistency right.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4TAA7c0mdXY/TwtoWmMbCYI/AAAAAAAAAWM/JLaOKrVnP6U/s1600/Panama+Border.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4TAA7c0mdXY/TwtoWmMbCYI/AAAAAAAAAWM/JLaOKrVnP6U/s320/Panama+Border.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Panama Border</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It rarely happens but even Briner complained about it. I had
to remind him of our agreement back on the Baja that he and Max did the cooking
and I did the route research. I’m not that good at route research but even
worse when it comes to cooking! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Monday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another border day. Max is up early! He cooks up some
oatmeal I make some coffee and we all pack up. Now the test…. Can we start the
KTM? After numerous unsuccessful <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
kicks we set up
for the tow method. By now it’s almost routine. It fires right up and we are on
the way! We are riding through grasslands to our right and rain forest to the
left. The road is good and we are making good time. We arrive at the Panama
border at Paso Canaros at 9:30 and get the bikes exported quickly without any
handlers help (maybe we are finally getting this thing figured out). Max pushes
the KTM across no mans land to the Panama side while I wait for Briner to
finish up. We then start the process of getting ourselves stamped in, then our
bikes. Once again I could go on and on<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oNXnkOFY-DY/Twtooulem5I/AAAAAAAAAWU/QYqECbEDhV8/s1600/El+Fumigator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oNXnkOFY-DY/Twtooulem5I/AAAAAAAAAWU/QYqECbEDhV8/s400/El+Fumigator.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"El Fumigator"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
about the how incompetent and
unorganized the whole thing is but I’ll just say it took Max and John 3 times
to get their paperwork right. Not their fault but the lady typing it up just
couldn’t get it straight. We also had to employ a handler because we couldn’t
find the insurance office. They all work pretty well together to make the
process as hard as possible. The last thing we had to do was to have the bikes
fumigated. I was first and no one was around so I just rode into the stall
thinking someone would come around. Well it turns out Panama is pretty progressive
when it comes to fumigation. It’s automatic! When I rolled into the shed the
sprinklers activated automatically! I was sprayed on three sides (right, left
and bottom) with some sort of detergent/insecticide. The worst part was I
didn’t have my jacket on. On the bright side it relieved the tension of taking
4 ½ hours to get across the easiest border in Central America. Everyone was
amused but me. Fortunately, soon after, it began raining cats and dogs and
washed off what had gotten on me. It also soaked me through before I was able
to pull out the rain gear. I didn’t mention this but the border is at the top
of a long hill so when we were finished Max just coasted down and bump started
his bike. About 1 km down the road was the final check point. My papers were in
order but John and Max were missing a signature! We had to go back! Turning his
bike around Max stalled. He bump started and we all went back. They got the
papers signed and we were finally out of there! Borders are a bitch when you
are in a hurry! Plus we moved into the next time zone which lost us another
hour. Now we are back on the Pan American Highway and making tracks. Once in
Panama everything changes. We are on a 4 lane highway that is lined with
traffic cops every 5kms. Also the jungle seems to close in with every mile. We
are quickly riding into dark and not finding any hotels. I’m amazed at how few
buildings we see. This seems to be a fairly desolate part of the country with
just a few small villages along the road. We finally make Santiago about a hour
after dark and find a place well off the road for the bikes sake. Nothing much
to write about here so let’s move on.<o:p></o:p></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-3467882871317743342011-11-28T12:03:00.001-08:002012-01-02T14:30:53.095-08:00SOME PICS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b4hAowl-5hU/TtPoGHp5I6I/AAAAAAAAAGk/UVneZlUwyYI/s1600/Climbing+mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b4hAowl-5hU/TtPoGHp5I6I/AAAAAAAAAGk/UVneZlUwyYI/s320/Climbing+mountain.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Riding up the mountain towards Lago Atitlan</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-egZFK9OI03c/TtPpQtyCjJI/AAAAAAAAAGs/8d8ZamKCQhw/s1600/Roadmto+Lago.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-egZFK9OI03c/TtPpQtyCjJI/AAAAAAAAAGs/8d8ZamKCQhw/s320/Roadmto+Lago.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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On the way to Atitlan</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2kDZuizxsL8/TtPpkZAol6I/AAAAAAAAAG0/pB4ls-Dq_Ng/s1600/Max+Lago+Atitaln.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2kDZuizxsL8/TtPpkZAol6I/AAAAAAAAAG0/pB4ls-Dq_Ng/s320/Max+Lago+Atitaln.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Max looking down at the lake</div>
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</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IwrUVzHIXNQ/TtPp6jCwGoI/AAAAAAAAAG8/W6wKmS5cE_Y/s1600/People+walk+Atitalan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IwrUVzHIXNQ/TtPp6jCwGoI/AAAAAAAAAG8/W6wKmS5cE_Y/s320/People+walk+Atitalan.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div>
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Atltlan</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IczPtILdzX4/TtPqnCzeotI/AAAAAAAAAHE/xIdKfuFotkY/s1600/Chicken+bus+road+to+Lago.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IczPtILdzX4/TtPqnCzeotI/AAAAAAAAAHE/xIdKfuFotkY/s320/Chicken+bus+road+to+Lago.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Chicken bus</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0urxkB_FdjQ/TtPq9oy0KdI/AAAAAAAAAHM/dX_pvKuUQmY/s1600/Lago+Atitalan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0urxkB_FdjQ/TtPq9oy0KdI/AAAAAAAAAHM/dX_pvKuUQmY/s320/Lago+Atitalan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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The Lake!</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KdtYPWCZD9o/TtPrTVl0UJI/AAAAAAAAAHU/o0AGl-ho-0k/s1600/San+Pedro+street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KdtYPWCZD9o/TtPrTVl0UJI/AAAAAAAAAHU/o0AGl-ho-0k/s320/San+Pedro+street.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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San Pedro</div>
<br />Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-16030901077946523812011-11-28T11:56:00.001-08:002012-01-02T14:30:30.474-08:00HEAVEN AND HELL<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xWZMoY8AQdw/TwIRfUxIQAI/AAAAAAAAAOw/C_1xn6n0R2A/s1600/Max+and+roadblock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xWZMoY8AQdw/TwIRfUxIQAI/AAAAAAAAAOw/C_1xn6n0R2A/s400/Max+and+roadblock.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Chicken Bus drivers block hwy. to support strike</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Monday, November 21, 2011<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a grand dinner of a hamburger (3 choices, Hamburger,
chicken sandwich or cheese sandwich) We retired to our room for the night. We
are hoping to get to Lago Atitlan tomorrow. This is a place Max has been a
couple of times and after hearing about it this has become one of the must see
places on this trip. The distance is only 70 miles but knowing the roads we
decide to get an early start. After coffee and breakfast (miraculously the
restaurants menu grew to include a full breakfast and lunch and dinner
selections) we headed out of towngpsroad, i.e. bandits, nor do we have any sort of map other than
the gps that shows no road at all, but what Max wants Max will get so after
talking to a local driving by who assures us it’s a good road we continue on.
OMG! The road begins to climb, not slowly but very steeply. Riding an 800# moto
up this shit requires lots of throttle and lots of prayer. The straight parts
weren’t too bad but the switchbacks were a bitch. 1Huehuetengo and all
it’s traffic. Dufas has lost his way down here so I guess we are on our own. No
more than 5 miles out of town we come to a roadblock. 30 or so people are
standing in the road they have blocked off with rocks and boards. Turns out it
the “chicken bus” drivers staging a countrywide protest for higher<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nt139UKflqA/TwISXClf6sI/AAAAAAAAAO8/V7jGDpN-drc/s1600/Roadblock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nt139UKflqA/TwISXClf6sI/AAAAAAAAAO8/V7jGDpN-drc/s320/Roadblock.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The other end of the roadblock</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
wages. We
start asking around if we could pass but no dice. We were told “maybe 2 hours”,
then “maybe 4 hours” and finally “no go till 4”. Shit! That doesn’t leave
enough daylight to get to the lake, besides the speed they move around here
(except when they are driving their buses) it will take them until dark to move
it all out of the way, clearing the road. Max and I go look for an alternative
route while John keeps an eye on the bikes. We even considered making a run at
the road block but what we didn’t see was they had totally blocked the road a
100 meters up with buses. We walked up a hill to our right and followed a road
that paralleled the highway, getting our hopes up. When we reached the top we
could see there was no hope of getting through. The road dropped down to the
highway right smack in the middle of scores of protesters and their buses. Our
hopes dashed, we walked back to the bikes and hung out with the protesters for
a couple of hours. They were a fun bunch, offering us water and oranges and
curious about the bikes and where we came from. For those who saw my facebook
video of the crowd it might have seem as though they were an angry crowd. To
the contrary, they were having fun. Each time someone would show up to the
party late they would rush him, laughing and shouting, and begin pummeling them
with their fists.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No on got hurt, just playing. We had no choice but to return
to Huehuetengo for the night. Once in the middle of town we asked a taxi driver
to lead us to a hotel with secure parking. He took us to the nicest place in town.
Nicest being a relative term. The price was right; they had wifi, a pool and
beer so we took a room. Max and I went out exploring the town. Traveling with
Max has really opened a lot of doors previously closed to me. Because of my
reluctance to get out, get lost and meet the locals I have missed a lot in the
past. With Max leading the way you never know where you’ll end up and that’s
the fun part! We found a coffee shop where the owner gave us an education on
the various regional clothing, weaving and coffee growing. He spoke no English
so much was lost to me but he did give us our lattes for free! We found a place
for dinner where we met two American missionaries who had been working in the
area for 4 years. I asked what the biggest challenge was for them and was told,
“trying not to do too much for the people” which I took to mean that in the
past the church pushed to hard and the people began resenting it. All and all,
other than losing yet another day on our quest to be in Panama by December 8th,
the day turned out just fine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-01ek_shHx1U/TwIT9PYHQdI/AAAAAAAAAPI/pO05T-Mq3Hc/s1600/Lake+Atitlan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-01ek_shHx1U/TwIT9PYHQdI/AAAAAAAAAPI/pO05T-Mq3Hc/s400/Lake+Atitlan.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first glimpse of Lagos Atitalan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tuesday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After breakfast we rode out of “Wayway”, and hallelujah, the
road was open! This ride took us higher and higher until we topped out a 10000
feet. Max’s bike did well at altitude, so maybe it really is fixed. The mountains
are very rugged but most our cultivated right up to the top. The views back
toward “Wayway” were amazing. Lago Atitlan rests in a caldera ( a collapsed
volcano). Impressed? Briner gave me that nugget.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Sfl5OXFsz8k/TwIVDSXdoYI/AAAAAAAAAPU/8OGH9ZHr8_s/s1600/San+Pedro+Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Sfl5OXFsz8k/TwIVDSXdoYI/AAAAAAAAAPU/8OGH9ZHr8_s/s320/San+Pedro+Hotel.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">San Pedro Hostel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It is surrounded by a number of simi active volcanoes and is
so beautiful words won’t describe it (just google it ). You would never know by
the road we were on that we were heading to such a wonderful place. It was
narrow, part dirt, part wrecked pavement and had 20% grades at some points. We
finally stopped at a park entrance to ask if we missed a turn off. They told us
we were on the right road and we’d be there in an hour. How can that be,
according to the map we’re only 10 miles away. Let me tell you those 10 miles
were the slowest 10 miles I’ve ever done. The road became even narrower and
rougher than before, add crazy chicken busses and insane combia vans, well you
get the picture. Then the road began to drop. My best guess is 2000 feet in 2
miles! You do the math but that equals one hell of a grade! We found a nice
hostel with parking for the bikes in San Pedro. Max has spent a fair amount of
time here so he became our guide, as we walked around he pointed out the orange
juice stand that sells coke, pot whatever. The liquor store and finally we end up
in the Buddha Bar. Fun place to meet people from all over. Cheap rum and great
food. Got lost trying to get back to our hostel. The streets are just wide
enough to get tuk tuks through and no one street is longer than a block. It
truly is a maze!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g3Pip68JM8Y/TwIVl0jNFjI/AAAAAAAAAPg/kPwQSSGHmuk/s1600/San+Marcos+street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g3Pip68JM8Y/TwIVl0jNFjI/AAAAAAAAAPg/kPwQSSGHmuk/s320/San+Marcos+street.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A typical street in San Marcos</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Wednesday</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We take a boat over to San Marcos for the day. Max spent 28
days here at a full moon to full moon meditation and yoga retreat a few years
back. The whole town seems to cater to the mellow, spiritual, and healthy life
styles. You can almost feel it when you get off the boat. He wants to take us
to his favorite restaurant but the rains have been heavier than usual and the
place is mostly underwater. We find another place and have a great breakfast
accompanied with fresh organic coffee grown right there at the restaurant.
Can’t get any fresher than that! While searching for the only Lonely Planet in
the town (we need to get border info) we find it at a little restaurant run by
a woman from England. Briner finds his spot and hangs there and Max and I go for
a dip in the lake followed by a tour of the Las Pyramidas where Max spent a month. A cool place with little
Pyramid cabins dotted around the place. I met a couple of his instructors and
they all remembered Max.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pLNa7_UHR1Q/TwIu9T-5zyI/AAAAAAAAASU/ETdlPIlShQU/s1600/Boat+to+San+Pedro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pLNa7_UHR1Q/TwIu9T-5zyI/AAAAAAAAASU/ETdlPIlShQU/s400/Boat+to+San+Pedro.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Boat to San Pedro</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
After I treated myself to a 90-minute massage (this is
the first time in memory I’ve gotten one for no other reason than pure
enjoyment). The boat ride back was fun. The wind had come up and a man, a very
inebriated man, had gotten on board and spent his time on the bottom of the
boat rolling around wailing about god knows what! I must say I was surprised he
kept his cookies down the entire trip across. Dinner, a wild Tuk Tuk ride and
back to the hostel for the night.<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<b>Thanksgiving Day</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ymZlXJjzGM/TwIZE9ArnqI/AAAAAAAAAP4/U2u_tkAdlpQ/s1600/Road+begins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ymZlXJjzGM/TwIZE9ArnqI/AAAAAAAAAP4/U2u_tkAdlpQ/s320/Road+begins.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It takes us an hour to get out of the towns (two or maybe
three signs would cut the time down to 15 minutes), back up the switchbacks,
and another 20 minutes looking for a road to get us through the mountains.
After a few inquires we find the village we need to hook up with the road. As
we leave the village it becomes apparent this road will be a challenge. It is
steep, rutted and not maintained very well. I stop to get John and Max’s
opinion. John points back toward the village we came from and Max wants to go
on. I, personally, don’t have a good feeling. We haven’t inquired about the
safety on this road, i.e. bandits, nor do we have any sort of map other than
the gps that shows no road at all, but what Max wants Max will get so after
talking to a local driving by who assures us it’s a good road we continue on.
OMG! The road begins to climb, not slowly but very steeply. Riding an 800# moto
up this shit requires lots of throttle and lots of prayer.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uuRUz9938Rw/TwIbHMXhNfI/AAAAAAAAAQE/iVnTS4vdN2s/s1600/Max+riding+the+notch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uuRUz9938Rw/TwIbHMXhNfI/AAAAAAAAAQE/iVnTS4vdN2s/s320/Max+riding+the+notch.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Max riding the notch</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The straight parts
weren’t too bad but the switchbacks were a bitch. 1<sup>st</sup> gear all the
way up. Add the heat and I was getting wiped out. We did see a few trucks going
the other way and that gave me hope. When we reached the top all the work was
forgotten. The view was increasable! You could see a hundred miles. Volcanoes,
valleys, rivers, villages, just unbelievable! We could also see the road down
and that scared me! Narrow, steep with loose sand and rocks not to mention
switchbacks. We began our way down using all of my brakes; I had to turn off
the ABS to keep from going off the edge at the switchbacks. Suddenly I had no
rear brakes at all! None of us did!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kzU1eHQ1UKA/TwIhE7hM6jI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/euK95hGn3rs/s1600/View+down+road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kzU1eHQ1UKA/TwIhE7hM6jI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/euK95hGn3rs/s320/View+down+road.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We stopped and took a 20-minute break to
allow the brakes to cool down. While sitting there a number of women came by
carrying loads on their heads and backs moving faster than we could! The people
up here are in incredible shape! Back on the bikes and using front brakes only
I started down. The road got even steeper and I had to ride “clutch in”
standing on the front brakes trying not to slide the front wheel. When I
reached what I thought was the bottom I crossed a stream and waited for Max and
John. After about 5 minutes I began to worry. I thought I best get my bike off
the road and while pushing it back I lost it and the bike went over. I can’t
believe it, I road over that mountain without losing it once and I drop it at the
bottom!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TUbbVk2Pmx8/TwIhs_m21LI/AAAAAAAAAQc/eRQsiU4wW8o/s1600/View+towards+CA2+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TUbbVk2Pmx8/TwIhs_m21LI/AAAAAAAAAQc/eRQsiU4wW8o/s320/View+towards+CA2+.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>View down the valley towards CA2<br />The Pan American Hwy</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anyway some guy and his son come walking by to go cut wood and help me
with it. My 1<sup>st</sup> thought was “great, I’m by myself and I run into a
bandit welding a machete” but the guy was friendly and ended well. Finally Max
showed up and said John was having trouble with his brakes and had fallen. When
John caught up he says both front and back brakes went south on him and he had
to plow into the uphill side of the road. Had he gone off the other side……?
Well best not think about that. We eventually make it out to a real road after
a number of false hopes while riding through these small villages only to be
dashed when we get through and the road returns to its previous condition. I think I have taken the GS mother
ship, and myself, to the limit on this road.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nxInMLBKRig/TwIiXpbdF6I/AAAAAAAAAQo/yzu0ZUCs7m0/s1600/Finally+civlisation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nxInMLBKRig/TwIiXpbdF6I/AAAAAAAAAQo/yzu0ZUCs7m0/s320/Finally+civlisation.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Civilization!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We then turned onto CA2 for the
drone through El Salvador. We stopped in a restaurant along the highway and
there were a couple of Harley clones sitting there. They belong to this guy
Carlos and his son in-law Julio. They are having lunch with Julio’s mother and
brother. They give us a welcome found only in Guatemala! Ordering us beers and
chatting it up like we’ve know each other for years. We exchange emails, take
pictures and head on down the road. Around 5 Max’s POS KTM gives out a backfire
and begins to idle high. We decide to get gas and stay the night a little hotel
nearby in Brito. I adjust Max’s idle without solving the mystery and it seems
to run OK so we go to bed thinking all is good in our world.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4WeUtU1C0_g/TwIi9UznaBI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/CUHUXturpCc/s1600/lUNCH+STOP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4WeUtU1C0_g/TwIi9UznaBI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/CUHUXturpCc/s400/lUNCH+STOP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guatemalan friend we met at a roadside restaurant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Friday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another border crossing today. Up and on the road by 8. We
get to the El Salvador border around 10. This time we thought we’d go through
the process without help but after meeting Anthony we figured $4 apiece would
be worth it and after getting the bikes exported out in less than an hour we
had already gotten our moneys worth.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VIl3TiIYZ0Q/TwIl4MApVII/AAAAAAAAARA/vWu9-aMt0Jw/s1600/Missing+bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VIl3TiIYZ0Q/TwIl4MApVII/AAAAAAAAARA/vWu9-aMt0Jw/s400/Missing+bridge.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Did that sign back there say "Bridge Out?"</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Next was processing into El Salvador.
Anthony came with us but was little help. He didn’t have any pull on this side
of the border so we had to wait like everyone else. And wait we did. Max and I
stood 1<sup>st</sup> in line for 2 hours while John watched the bikes. These
guys just sat there, drinking water, eating and smoking, ignoring us. Max would
occasionally try to humor them with questions to no avail. Finally they take
our papers and the process began. All and all it took us 5 hours for the whole
process. I had talked to a guy who told me of a place on the beach near El
Liberto, a beach area known for it’s fabulous surf. It sounded like the prefect
place to spend the night! 4 Kms past the border the POS KTM quits!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VCNkan6jqfg/TwImcn4toDI/AAAAAAAAARM/awCJF8E0W98/s1600/Not+tell+El+Salvado.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VCNkan6jqfg/TwImcn4toDI/AAAAAAAAARM/awCJF8E0W98/s320/Not+tell+El+Salvado.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No tell parking. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At least it
quit in front of a “Auto Hotel” (No tell motel). This worked out great. We had
a secure garage to work in and we each had our own rooms for the 1<sup>st</sup>
time on this trip. This was good as my attitude was not the best at the moment.
After a beer, a muscle relaxer and a freeze-dried dinner it improved. Max and I
by now the routine so well we can pull the gas tank and have the crab removed
in about 15 minutes. The owner of the place was quite curious and hung out with
us while we worked on the bike. I think he may have been running some of the
girls living there but he never offered them to us. The first thing I notice is
the throttle return cable has come loose. Digging further into the carb we find
the needle clip has come off and the needle was just floating in there. This
was wonderful! We could actually see the problem for once. We put it all back
together and waited till morning to see if it was fixed. We had decided if it
wasn’t running we would flag down an empty truck heading toward San Salvador
and take it to the KTM dealer there. By the time we went to bed I was feeling
pretty good about things. Besides the bugs in the room, a rather large one
under my bed screeching all night, and the toad in the shower drain the place
was ok. The next morning we fired up the MRS stove and had fresh coffee and
oatmeal. Max took the bike out and it started right up and ran as good as ever!<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back on the road by 9. The Highway soon begins to hug the coast much like Highway 1 in California. The only difference is instead of a rugged coastline this one has pristine beaches along the whole way.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mz6XbHS4_oA/TwIn2pB-oII/AAAAAAAAARY/LcXZ8HIqVMs/s1600/El+Salvador+coast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mz6XbHS4_oA/TwIn2pB-oII/AAAAAAAAARY/LcXZ8HIqVMs/s320/El+Salvador+coast.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
It was beautiful and I really hated to pass by this area so quickly. But with all the delays we really need to make tracks now. Once past the coast the road goes inland and the landscape looks much like I picture the African Savanna to look, flat with grass and trees spread around. We continued riding toward the border with Honduras hoping to cross the border 1<sup>st</sup> thing in the morning. We ducked down into La Union thinking it might be a cool place to stay but it turned out more of a run down fishing village with few hotels. We continue on and get to the border soon after. Not wanting to cross this late in the day we stop by a gas station to top off before getting a room for the night. That’s when we meet Jose. The guy comes out of know where and is curious where we are going. We tell him Honduras and he says the banks will be closed tomorrow (it being Sunday and all) and we won’t be able to export the bikes until Monday. Fortunately good old Jose has a plan! If we hurry and use his services (for $5) we can just make it through before the banks close. Word of advice: When a stranger comes to you and says we need to hurry walk away as fast as you can! After all the 3<sup>rd</sup> world traveling I’ve done I still let myself be conned into thinking faster is better.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s339wFWRwy0/TwIoXICGNJI/AAAAAAAAARk/UYbVZCqEiHw/s1600/Hondurus+border.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s339wFWRwy0/TwIoXICGNJI/AAAAAAAAARk/UYbVZCqEiHw/s320/Hondurus+border.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>As it begins to get dark I wonder if we have made a mistake</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I will spare you the details of the next 4 hours but suffice it to say it turned into a nightmare costing us an additional $40 apiece and having to stay in a flea bitten hotel at the exorbitant price of $30! These people are running a syndicate here. You have the handlers, the ones who approach you offering their help. The paper guys, the one you normally don’t see who move your passport, import papers etc. around to the various government officials and the guy on the bike who just follows you around keeping an eye out for persons wanting to steer you away from their services not to mention the government officials themselves. Honduras has certainly lived up to its corrupt reputation. They have no idea how damaging this is to their tourism industry. I had been forewarned about this crossing and most Moto riders spend as little time as possible in this shitty little country.<br />
<br />
<b>Sunday</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are up and on the road by 6:30. Slept in my sleeping bag
liner and still got bit to shit last night. Riding through Honduras usually
means numerous police roadblocks and bribes. But we make it through without
trouble. It’s anticlimactic after yesterday. The area we ride through is pretty
much nondescript. Maybe more roadside garbage but other than that just
unplanted fields and trees. Since we are traveling without a map I’m surprised
when get to the border by 8:30.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uopXaxAzH4E/TwIqrmtIUWI/AAAAAAAAARw/N-kzA1bwmdk/s1600/Nicuagan+Border.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uopXaxAzH4E/TwIqrmtIUWI/AAAAAAAAARw/N-kzA1bwmdk/s320/Nicuagan+Border.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chili n at the Nicaraguan Border</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We decline any help and are through the export
process quickly. We then go to the Nicaragua side we import the bikes and take
care of our visas in record time! And nobody wanted a bribe. In fact I
mistakenly gave the customs guy $20 too much and he returned it! I like
Nicaragua! You can feel the difference. People here are much friendlier and
happier. We get lunch and are out of there by noon. The scenery immediately
improves. We are riding towards a number of volcanoes and sugarcane is aplenty!
We decide to make an early day of it and ride into Leon by 2:00. It’s the usual
confusion of unmarked one-way streets but Dufas has the city center marked so I
head for that. While driving up a busy street full of venders a man to my right starts yelling something at me. I stop,
put my right foot down and shit! There’s nothing there! I have put my foot in a
2’ deep hole and the bike and me go down right into a crowed corner. Fortunately
I don’t break my leg and the only damage is a cooler that was on the sidewalk.
By now a large crowd had gathered so I pulled a $20 out and gave it to the
cooler owner and got the f%$! Out of there! By now we had a guy on a ped-a-cab
guiding us to the town center where we found a hostel the will accommodate our
bikes and us. Leon has lots of history (stand by, I haven’t taken the tour yet)
and a beautiful Zocola. Again, some calibration was going on with bands,
parades and lots of dancing. Had
dinner on the roof of a Karaoke club overlooking a skate park and called it a
night.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3obaJ5_3PLo/TwItHvQOaxI/AAAAAAAAASI/BlvfCEouSZA/s1600/Cows+on+road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3obaJ5_3PLo/TwItHvQOaxI/AAAAAAAAASI/BlvfCEouSZA/s400/Cows+on+road.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">`They make cool looking volcanos here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k6tby-kRCmg/TwIsAH7oHoI/AAAAAAAAAR8/ifxyC6jLrK4/s1600/Volcanos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k6tby-kRCmg/TwIsAH7oHoI/AAAAAAAAAR8/ifxyC6jLrK4/s400/Volcanos.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">`.Ah! Nicaragua what a nice change of pace<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-14831955365267551762011-11-21T15:59:00.001-08:002012-01-02T12:12:30.144-08:00TROUBLE IN PARADISE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qwCSdUTDfLc/TwIPP9Im_dI/AAAAAAAAAOk/QpVmZYSDLC4/s1600/Hotel+Huahua.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qwCSdUTDfLc/TwIPP9Im_dI/AAAAAAAAAOk/QpVmZYSDLC4/s320/Hotel+Huahua.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have decided Oaxaca deserves two days at the least. Max
and I devote about 3 hours on his bike removing the carburetor, cleaning the
air cleaner, changing the jets and putting it all back together. I ventured
into the Mercado and found some good stuff. Shrimp, oyster cocktail with a
great salsa. After, we all went to the Zocala to hear some music but after
waiting an hour for it to start we gave up . The Zocala was hopping. Some kind
of book festival going on. There is something about this city that puts it apart
from other Mexico cities. Clean Air! It sits at 6000 feet on a high
plateau. Oaxaca is steeped in
history and is the center for the various indigenous peoples in the area who
bring their crafts into Oaxaca to sell on the streets and mericado. Black pottery,
silver, weavings, leather goods and oh yea, Mezcal. That night we wandered
around sampling the street venders food and hit the sack early.<o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lfkPg61XCSw/TwHkQtX99RI/AAAAAAAAANQ/TAf_uyudvF0/s1600/Oaxaca+Cathedral.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lfkPg61XCSw/TwHkQtX99RI/AAAAAAAAANQ/TAf_uyudvF0/s320/Oaxaca+Cathedral.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oaxaca Cathedral</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bfUYBDCPsLA/TwHi1uxkxwI/AAAAAAAAAM4/uaoo72YoIDg/s1600/Oaxaca+Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bfUYBDCPsLA/TwHi1uxkxwI/AAAAAAAAAM4/uaoo72YoIDg/s400/Oaxaca+Hotel.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oaxaca Hotel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Monday November 14</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another early start today. We want to get to Puerto Angel in
time for a little beach time. The ride out of town was the usual battle of the
topes. You would see 95% of them coming but it is that 5% that hammers you. We
climbed up to 7500 feet on a not so well maintained road then began the usual
twists and turns bringing us down to sea level. We rolled into Puerto Angel
around 2:30 with Max’s bike, you guessed to, running like crap! After
conferring with the Lonely Planet we headed over the south side of the bay and
found a hotel. Or should I say they found us. As we rode down the road looking
for the place two guys come running into the street beckoning us to come into
their respective businesses. The parking looked better on the left so that’s
where we pulled in. Then they began yelling that the each had the better food.
Jorge, our hotel guy, was pretty smug when we headed his way. The hotel was a
little over our budget but what the hell we’ll only be here 2 nights. We
decided, since we are staying at Jorge’s place, to give the guy <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VFgGRIh71Y4/TwHjY8kLuDI/AAAAAAAAANE/Hlz37L3-Lnw/s1600/Oaxaca+Zocala.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VFgGRIh71Y4/TwHjY8kLuDI/AAAAAAAAANE/Hlz37L3-Lnw/s400/Oaxaca+Zocala.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oaxaca Zocola</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
next store our business for dinner. This did not go well
with Jorge. He had an obvious attitude when we returned, mumbling something
about the great price they gave us on the room. He then had us move our bikes
and said they wouldn’t be safe unless we locked everything up. It was at that
moment Max notices his two extra tires are gone! All’s well, we find out Jorge
had moved them f or safekeeping. After promising Jorge we would eat at his
place tomorrow night we turned in for the night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tuesday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s so nice here we decide to stay another day. Max’s bike
(now the theme of the trip) was running rough so Max and I take another stab at
the carburetor. We notice there is a washer missing at the bottom of the
needle. When did that disappear? We also replace yet another oil soaked spark
plug with a new one, start the bike up and call it good. A swim followed by a
couple of beers and it really does feel like vacation! Interesting place this
is. Very few Gringos, mostly Mexican visitors. Actually there are very few
foreign tourists here or anywhere we’ve been in Mexico. The threat of cartel
violence plus the bad global economy is really hitting Mexico hard. Tomorrow we
leave early hopping to make San Chistobal de las Casas for a few days.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FMswSW7jCQw/TwHmGaY4gDI/AAAAAAAAANc/UG-WwHnslKc/s1600/View+from+Porto+Angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FMswSW7jCQw/TwHmGaY4gDI/AAAAAAAAANc/UG-WwHnslKc/s320/View+from+Porto+Angel.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>View from our room</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Wednesday</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bikes loaded ready to go by 8. The KTM won’t start. Won’t
even pop. Off come the luggage, gas tank and carb. We work on it until noon and
decide to keep the room one more day. We hear about a mechanic in the town
south of us so we hire a cab, find him and bring him back. He goes through the
carb again, looks at the spark and decides he’ll come back tomorrow. I go ahead
and adjust the valves and still no go. Another night in paradise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>Thursday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We work on the bike waiting for Senore Mechanic (who never
did show). We have run out of ideas so we take up the hotel owner’s son offer
to take Max and his bike to the next large town where there is a Yamaha shop.
We put the bike back together and enjoy some beach time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9plKP1OGmmA/TwHmuapsYBI/AAAAAAAAANo/mjhCKog9uoQ/s1600/puerto+Angel+Boats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="161" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9plKP1OGmmA/TwHmuapsYBI/AAAAAAAAANo/mjhCKog9uoQ/s640/puerto+Angel+Boats.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Puerto Angel</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bGN_tqVJPW4/TwHoKdzp66I/AAAAAAAAAN0/Hh8sK6cdA5U/s1600/PA+KTM+going+to+the+shop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bGN_tqVJPW4/TwHoKdzp66I/AAAAAAAAAN0/Hh8sK6cdA5U/s320/PA+KTM+going+to+the+shop.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>KTM going to see a real mechanic- I hope</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Friday</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Max and the bike are loaded up and on the way by 8. John and
I decide to explore the town a little and drop off some laundry. Not much to
see, just a small town with the usual small shops and such. There is a huge
dock there. Must have an occasional large ship come in. A nap and John and I
decide to ride up to the next town North of us. Shorts, tennis shoes and tee
shirt make up the total safety gear we are wearing. It felt sooooooo good not to be encumbered by all the usual gear! Walking up
the beach we happen upon a hostel and bar run by a expat from San Diego. As far
as Expat bar owners go this guy was all right. He’s 60 something, lost is job
in the states, had no health insurance and said “what the hell, it’s not too
bad here”. He leased the hostel and bar, got himself a bar manager (another
gringo who by appearances looks as though he’s paid with beers.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before too many beers John and I decide it would be best to
get the bikes back. As we approach the hotel people begin running out in the
street yelling, “the moto is back!” “The moto is bien!” I swear, the whole
village knew about our dilemma! And there it sat, the POS KTM in all her glory!
We, of course were elated. I truly thought there was no hope of getting it
fixed anywhere near there. I guess the mechanic was more thro than us and went
back through the carb and found some sort of blockage. A calibration was in
order so we got a cab and went back to Zipolite for drinks and dinner. I think
John must have been the happiest since he timbered the bar with shots of
tequila and started a party that lasted well past midnight for him. Max and I,
being the responsible adults we are, caught a cab back and didn’t expect to see
John until the next morning. Much to my surprise he was laid out in his
sleeping bag in the middle of the floor when I got up. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Saturday</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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What a trooper! John is up and about and we’re loaded up
ready to go by 9! After a quick stop to pay the mechanic (who didn’t fix
anything but, to his credit, didn’t want anything) we began the day’s ride. We
rode down the coast highway stopping at some village for breakfast at a street
venders place. Chicken, tortillas and a fruit smoothie and we all were feeling
fine. We made good time and pulled into Tonala for the night. Found a nice
clean hotel with secured parking for the bikes after looking at a few “no tell
motels”. The Independence Day calibration had begun and the town square was
packed. Found a place to get a bit to eat and returned. The only special thing
that happened this night was that John did not have a beer with dinner!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZhCaz9pgbUQ/TwHp3UoZCLI/AAAAAAAAAOA/2sPjdryEII0/s1600/Road+to+Tonala.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZhCaz9pgbUQ/TwHp3UoZCLI/AAAAAAAAAOA/2sPjdryEII0/s320/Road+to+Tonala.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road to Tonala</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Sunday</b></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The highway
took us inland from the coast and through a valley that about blew us off the
road. No wonder it was also the largest array of wind generators I’ve ever
seen. We drove through the middle for miles! For some reason Dufas did not want us to take the “shortest
most direct” route into Guatemala instead turning us north up into the
mountains again at Huxtila. This being Mexico Independence Day all of the
villages were having some sort of festivities. Most of these villages have only
one street going through town and as we rode through this one village we found
ourselves surrounded in a sea of locals. I hadn’t noticed they all were wearing
the same white shirts and all of them were men. Shit! We are in the town
parade! Only one thing to do but keep going. The masses parted for us and began
yelling and clapping. When we finally made it to the front I had to maneuver
around the banner and then the two police cars that were blocking the road. I
gave the cops a shrug and a smile but only got a scowl in return. Once cleared
we high tailed it out of there. The road snaked up to 7000 feet toward the
Guatemalan boarder. When we got to Passo Hondo we found ourselves at the rear
of their parade. This being a larger town we were able to swing through the
side streets and around the parade. In another 10 miles we were at the border.
Processing our bikes out of Mexico went smoothly. 1<sup>st</sup> we had to go
the Banko something or other and have the guy check our import papers with or
vin numbers. Once he was satisfied we had the same bikes we imported back in
Ensenadas he refunded our $300 deposits and sent us over to immigration. There
they simply took our tourist visas, stamped our passports and sent us on our
way in less than an hour. We then road through 5 miles of no mans land to the
Guatemala border. Holy shit what a zoo! Venders everywhere, lining the streets.
I get excited because this will be my first 3<sup>rd</sup> world border
crossing with my bike! Some guy waives me over and says he has to fumigate my
bike. I had already read this was legit so I didn’t argue. He takes this
sprayer and waves it over my tires like a bartender waving the vermouth over a
martini. Then tells me it will cost 20Qil or about $1.50. I then go into the
customs shack and find no line and two of the most unenthused individuals I’ve
ever laid eyes on. I promptly hand over the 20Qil note to them and ask what’s
next? Of course I speak little or no Spanish so maybe something was lost in
translation. Anyway they take my money and I ask for a receipt. The one guy
smiles to the other guy and points to another building. He then stamps my
passport and I head over the fumigation shack. Thinking I already paid the fee
I ask for a receipt. This guy won’t give me a receipt until I pay him. Hmm I
see now. The 20Qil I gave the customs went into their pockets. Not being one to
quivel over $1.50 I let it go and continued to the import processing building.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qwCSdUTDfLc/TwIPP9Im_dI/AAAAAAAAAOk/QpVmZYSDLC4/s1600/Hotel+Huahua.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qwCSdUTDfLc/TwIPP9Im_dI/AAAAAAAAAOk/QpVmZYSDLC4/s320/Hotel+Huahua.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotel in Hauhauteango Gua.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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There I gave them my original title, my driver’s license, my
processed export paperwork from Mexico and my passport. They made triplicate
copies of all and sent me to the bank office where I paid 160 Qils (about $20).
After which I returned to the window and was given my Import papers. All and
all the entire process took about 2 hours. Not bad for a Sunday and a Mexican
holiday! It’s 4:00 and darkness will be falling soon so it’s time to skedaddle!
It’s amazing how everything changed at the border. The mountains more rugged,
the air cooler and roads rougher. We weren’t making very good time with all the
villages and such but just made it to Huehuetenango by dark. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dIb4G0-Vbro/TwHqe2cxZyI/AAAAAAAAAOM/BDC456zK82Q/s1600/Lumch+Break+Tonala.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dIb4G0-Vbro/TwHqe2cxZyI/AAAAAAAAAOM/BDC456zK82Q/s320/Lumch+Break+Tonala.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch break</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1HP1iRTNe0o/TwIN3ADmuFI/AAAAAAAAAOY/Cc0ukxYxf_E/s1600/Parade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1HP1iRTNe0o/TwIN3ADmuFI/AAAAAAAAAOY/Cc0ukxYxf_E/s400/Parade.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This would be the 2nd Mexican Independence parade we crashed<br />fortunately we found away around this one.<br /><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-82604459701614607332011-11-21T13:39:00.001-08:002011-11-21T13:54:48.855-08:00SOME TRIP PICS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-stKvhPZAG-4/TsrFE9flDDI/AAAAAAAAAFk/XbB17LI0Cyg/s1600/Lobby+Parking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-stKvhPZAG-4/TsrFE9flDDI/AAAAAAAAAFk/XbB17LI0Cyg/s320/Lobby+Parking.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The hotels are very accommodating down here</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MOwyN0e3MWk/TsrFhG2wicI/AAAAAAAAAFs/sLLpewdJ_Ak/s1600/Bikes+in+courtyard+in+Muleja.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MOwyN0e3MWk/TsrFhG2wicI/AAAAAAAAAFs/sLLpewdJ_Ak/s320/Bikes+in+courtyard+in+Muleja.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The beautifully tiled courtyard in Muleje Baja</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-imFRM--sKgU/TsrF6pCM0FI/AAAAAAAAAF0/NiQocucbf20/s1600/Marin+and+friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-imFRM--sKgU/TsrF6pCM0FI/AAAAAAAAAF0/NiQocucbf20/s320/Marin+and+friends.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Some Whitehorse neighbors we ran into</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4hCbZDCVy70/TsrGSERi1oI/AAAAAAAAAF8/oP7ujjSFcb0/s1600/John+in+Guadalajara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4hCbZDCVy70/TsrGSERi1oI/AAAAAAAAAF8/oP7ujjSFcb0/s320/John+in+Guadalajara.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Shopping in the "mericado '</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VYhYcWLIGqk/TsrGgneRm6I/AAAAAAAAAGE/2c1eURFDZIY/s1600/Lalo+and+John.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VYhYcWLIGqk/TsrGgneRm6I/AAAAAAAAAGE/2c1eURFDZIY/s320/Lalo+and+John.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lalo and John in Guadalahara</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0QeILAKqDUk/TsrGxHkD-AI/AAAAAAAAAGM/foxhDfujt-0/s1600/Gina+Lalo+out+to+lunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0QeILAKqDUk/TsrGxHkD-AI/AAAAAAAAAGM/foxhDfujt-0/s320/Gina+Lalo+out+to+lunch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lalo and Gina, our Guadalajara hosts</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NpQHf0IZp3I/TsrHX10bPLI/AAAAAAAAAGU/syJXIPZ7n-Y/s1600/Victor+washing+my+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NpQHf0IZp3I/TsrHX10bPLI/AAAAAAAAAGU/syJXIPZ7n-Y/s320/Victor+washing+my+bike.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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After changing my tire for free Victor gives the bike a washing and polish. No charge!</div>
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Thanks guys! A great KTM shop in Guadalajara!</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMz5-UfSewE/TsrIMRv56CI/AAAAAAAAAGc/0y3BTIsC_Eo/s1600/The+Boyz+at+EuroSport.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMz5-UfSewE/TsrIMRv56CI/AAAAAAAAAGc/0y3BTIsC_Eo/s320/The+Boyz+at+EuroSport.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The boyz at EuroSports that helped us out.</div>
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<br />Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-51016841802073257952011-11-13T08:00:00.001-08:002012-01-02T08:47:39.603-08:00THE HEART OF MEXICO<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thursday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The plan today was to get up and out early and put down some
miles but by the time Max loaded up his bike and Gina and Lalo fixed us yet
another wonderful breakfast it was after ten when we bid them a fond fair well
and hit the slab. It took over and hour just to get through Guadalajara. Have I
praised Dufas my GPS lately? If not consider this my praise. Getting around the
big cities would be close to impossible with out his help. Sure even Dufas gets
confused now and again but between reading the road signs and listening to that
wonderful female voice in my ears I managed to lead my boyz out of the city and
into the countryside. We headed Southeast toward Lake Chapala and continued on Through
Zamora, Zacapu and finally into Morelia where we are spending the night. We
managed 200 miles today, which may not seem a bunch but driving the secondary
roads takes you through the middle of lots of small villages that are brimming
with Topes (speed bumps). Some are there to slow you down for safety and others
to slow you down so they can sell their fruits and vegetables. The 1<sup>st</sup>
third of the drive was ho hum, flat farmland and some traffic. After that the
road began climbing and the air turned cooler. We climbed up to 7500 feet on a
clean and twisty road with little traffic. Lots of fun and great scenery. Once
you pass 5000 feet the trees turn to pines and the air smells fresh. Max’s bike
is running much better but we still need to lean it out more for these
altitudes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s good to be riding again. We are hoping to make Oaxaca
on Saturday where we plan to spend 2 nights before heading to the coast. <o:p></o:p><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uIqKcNFl79k/TwCbL8sTg6I/AAAAAAAAALo/sfcz8gfG6yE/s1600/Working+on+bike+in+Morelia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uIqKcNFl79k/TwCbL8sTg6I/AAAAAAAAALo/sfcz8gfG6yE/s320/Working+on+bike+in+Morelia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Max and me repairing stator case</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<b>Friday</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh yes the beginning of another day of adventure. The Plan….
Get up early and be on the road by 8. We are all up at 6:30 and done with
breakfast by 8, bike loaded and ready to make tracks! Max fires up the KTM
while I’m getting directions how to get out of this town without going through
the middle. “Hey Dad check this out!” “I’m busy Max wait a minute”. “I think
you need to see this,” he says. Ok WTF! The sight gauge on the stator side of
his engine is sucking in and out of the case. Shit! Out comes the tools and off
comes the cover. We clean the works, apply some Hondabond and close it all up again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bike still has Carb issues. Idles fine but quits when
hot. 10:00 we hit the pavement! Taking the route the guy gave me takes us 45
minutes to get out of town (have I mentioned how I hate cities, in the last few
posts I mean) anyway we did miss most of the central city. We are riding at
around 6000 feet, mostly in a broad valley heading towards Mexico City. The
usual small towns and topas (speed bumps). The road begins to wind up into the
mountains and becomes a twisty, up, down, clean, light traffic, awesome road
for 60 miles. One of the valleys reminded me of the Scott Valley in Northern
California with all the pines and fields. The small villages we pass through
all have their fruit and taco stands and make for a good break from riding. We
decided since we got such a late start (Again!) that we would make up time and
do some toll roads. I programmed Dufas to allow toll roads and avoid traffic
and set the destination for Oaxaca. Looking at the map there is no direct route
to Oaxaca, either you turn south then east then north of you can head east
through Mexico City (I hate to ride in cities). We have no maps of the city but
since I had programmed Dufas to keep us on toll roads and avoid traffic I
assumed we would have no trouble getting through. Wrong! It all began with the
high altitude and the POS KTM crapping out. I assumed wrong that the toll roads
went through the city. As soon as we got into the city the toll road stopped!
It just ended and put us on surface streets in one of the largest cities in the
world during rush hour! Picture if you will (this is for the bay area folks)
the 880 at rush hour extending 40 miles and 90% of the drivers are Asian! It
was surreal. Six lanes of traffic barely moving with people walking around
between the lanes selling shit.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ibp7Qkz7FGw/TwHedv3MM6I/AAAAAAAAAMs/Rqfx47AEudA/s1600/No+tell+Mx+City.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ibp7Qkz7FGw/TwHedv3MM6I/AAAAAAAAAMs/Rqfx47AEudA/s400/No+tell+Mx+City.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>No tell Motel Mexico City</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
At one point there was a man sitting on the
wall with a fake monkey playing the organ and another man walking car to car
looking for “donations”. Of course the POS KTM kept crapping out (we are at
9500’ elevation) and we have no hope of making it out of the city by dark.
After being guided through the streets of Mexico City we eventually got back on
a multi lane highway packed with commuters. This portion had no shoulders, just
high walls on either side and that’s when Max’s bike quits! Shit! He was
immediately gobbled up and out of sight. Lucky for us there was an off ramp
ahead and John and I got over. Max got his bike running and we all got off the
highway and back on the surface streets. I had had enough! We found a cab
driver to guide us to a hotel. I didn’t care where he took us as long as it had
secure parking. We finally get to the Hotel Principal and off the bikes just as
it’s getting dark. Turns out this is a “no tell Hotel” where men bring their
secretaries or hookers for a roll in the hay. It had under ground parking so
their cars could be kept out of sight. It wasn’t a bad place. Had a very clean
room with a large mirror facing the bed and 3 channels of porn on the TV. Damn
it was good to get off the bikes! We all cleaned up, found a cool taco place,
sucked down a couple of beers and sacked out for the night.<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6xe-NHbbnCo/TwHdZkkvg4I/AAAAAAAAAMg/MzPlLDme_s4/s1600/Road+to+Mx+City+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6xe-NHbbnCo/TwHdZkkvg4I/AAAAAAAAAMg/MzPlLDme_s4/s400/Road+to+Mx+City+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road from Mexico City to Oaxaca</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Saturday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are on the road by 6! This beats our previous record by
2.5 hours! We are motivated to get out of there before the traffic begins. John
calls and wakes up Knikki who tells him the president of Mexico has been killed
in a helicopter crash. We think, “This explains all the Military we saw moving
into Mexico City yesterday”. I’m wondering if this might slowed our departure
out of the city but it turns out it was some other official not the President.
We made it out just as the sun was poking its head through the thick smog. We
need to make 300 miles today to get to Oaxaca. It’s decided we’ll take the toll
road east then south. After spending 35 bucks for the bikes and traveling 100
miles (freezing our asses off, none of us expected 40 degree temperatures), we
decide this is cutting into our budget to deep. At Tehuacan we get off and get
back to the world of small villages and topas. It’s way more interesting on
these back roads than the toll roads, just a lot slower. Turns out this was
best decision of the last 2 days. We took 125 south along a broad and fertile
valley. It eventually began climbing and gave us one of the best riding
experiences of the trip. Except for the occasional wash out, burro in the road
and truck it was an exceptional road with incredible views. It’s fun watching
Max’s road skills improve. He is riding smooth, fast but safe. I can’t believe
how quickly John as adapted his ski skills to moto skills. We arrive in Oaxaca
around 5 and after the usual Max and Dad shenanigans looking for a hotel we
find a place near the Zocala with secure parking for a reasonable price (still
the price is exceeding the budget) it’s dark again. We unpack, shower and head
over to the Zocala for a couple of margs and dinner. The revenge struck last
night and I spent part of it at the alter of Montezuma.<o:p></o:p></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-33517397795496628242011-11-09T19:04:00.001-08:002012-01-01T09:24:46.314-08:00GUADALAJARA<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friday November 5<sup>th</sup></div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jHn785fWFLA/Tv4938un51I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/lukKFAivO9M/s1600/Chuch+in+Jerez.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jHn785fWFLA/Tv4938un51I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/lukKFAivO9M/s400/Chuch+in+Jerez.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Cathedral in Jerez de Salinas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Packed, breakfast and on the road by 9:30 (that’s pretty
good for us). Today we ride towards Guadalajara. After the last experience we
decided to break it up into a 2-day ride. We took the highway towards Zacatecas
and ended up in Jerez de Garcia Salinas, a smaller town southwest of Zacatecas.
The ride was good, traveling along high desert and then through some
mountainous areas. We were up around 5000 feet so the was cool and somewhat
clean. One thing I’m noticing is a lack of garbage along the roadside. I don’t
know if the government has finally cracked down or maybe this part of Mexico in
more environmentally sensitive. I guess I’ll find out the further south I go.
The usual cluster f%#k finding a place to stay. We picked this town because it
was relatively small (36000) but it was just as confusing as Durango was. We
have learned to aim for the cathedral, this is normally the center of town but
with random one-way streets it’s sometimes hard toe get there. Also the streets
are narrow and parking hard. Perpetual Motion is key but often doesn’t allow
enough time to get your bearings. We did find a nice place to stay with secure
parking for the bikes. Dinner on the square and a walk around town before
retiring to bed. Every night there is music in the streets. It may be part of
the Day of the Dead calibration or maybe they are just having fun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet another slow morning but we only have 180 miles to go
today to reach Guadalajara. Again it’s high desert then into the mountains. A
brilliant ride with lots of small villages and great scenery. The landscape is
lined with stonewalls instead of cattle fencing. Our goal was to make it to a
hotel recommended to us by some friends of a friend of John’s. Simple
instructions: Drive straight into town, under the overpass and just beyond the
Grand Plaza (you can’t miss it) you will find the hotel. NOT! After driving
around during, what appeared as, rush hour for 30 minutes we stopped to ask
directions. I guess we missed a turn (what turn? We were supposed to drive
straight!) Anyway another 30 minutes and we find what we think is “the Hotel”
We go to check in and find out it’s $140 a night (that really cuts deep into
our $80 a day budget)! Fortunately they have no rooms. This forces us to find a
cheaper place down the road for $55 a night. They give us secure parking and a
great room with AC and a TV. Beers before dinner and a walk find us in the
biggest mall in Guadalajara. The only restaurant we could find open besides a
Steak house smorgasbord was a VIP. Yep the same as in the states. The only
difference being the servers were much cuter and didn’t speak a lick of
English. A walk home and hit the sheets around midnight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sunday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shit! Just miss the Valencia Moto GP. Sounds like it was a
awesome race. Breakfast at the hotel and it’s off to the mall! Looking for ear
speakers (mine failed), a battery and charger for the camera (left the
originals in a hotel in LA Paz) and a new Kindle (mine failed when I hastily
packed it without protecting the screen). After 3 hours of shopping I ended up
with ear speakers, sun block and a bottle of wine. Tonight we go and stay with
the friends of a friend of John’s. More to follow…….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After 3 hours in the mall I got my ear speakers and nothing
else. Funny, malls in Mexico are just as tiring as malls in the US. Starbucks,
Subway and many of the same stores abound. The main difference is there are no
maps of the mall anywhere so you are forced to cover all 3 floors to look for
whatever. We then got directions to Lalo and Gini’s house and found it without
to much trouble. They actually have a number of homes, one in Salulita, one in
Mexico City and one here. This one is for getting away from work and relaxing.
It’s a beautiful home up in the hills above Guadalajara in a gated area
protected by the police. So safe I forgot my key in the bike and it was there
the next morning! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Monday November 7</b><sup><b>th</b><o:p></o:p></sup></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<sup>Lalo and Gina </sup>escorted us to 1<sup>st</sup> a BMW
shop where I got a new rear tire and then to EuroBike to drop off Max and Johns
bike to be worked on. It was a blessing having Gina with us as she acted as
translator to the mechanics on what we wanted done with the bikes.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-roQdgTjn97Q/TwCQw4jWhQI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/RAGuYAw6FPE/s1600/Tire+Guada..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-roQdgTjn97Q/TwCQw4jWhQI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/RAGuYAw6FPE/s320/Tire+Guada..jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Found a rear tire for my bike!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lalo and
Gina then took us to Tlaquepaque, an old section of Guadalajara that has very
high-end shops and good restaurants. It was the area where their revolution
began (I think). It appears Lalo and Gina are very well respected here. After
lunch the server offered us margaritas on the house. Of course I, out of
respect for our hosts, could not refuse so after 2 beers I had a margarita
followed up by a special blended margarita they called a tamrindo margarita.
Since the bikes wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow we headed home for some well-deserved
naps (I mean siestas). Gina once again served a delicious meal followed by
another fitful sleep.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pYGORzjQEz8/TwCSCUDzCqI/AAAAAAAAAKI/B9f0N5ExIm4/s1600/Gina+Lalo+out+to+lunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pYGORzjQEz8/TwCSCUDzCqI/AAAAAAAAAKI/B9f0N5ExIm4/s320/Gina+Lalo+out+to+lunch.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Gina, Lalo and the boyz</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>Tuesday</b><br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bikes should be ready by late morning so we lazed around
the house doing laundry and such until Lalo could give us a ride into town. When
we got to the MC shop neither bike had received any attention so we hailed a
cab and went to the central area of Guadalajara. We did the mericado thing and
got a excellent lunch there consisting of 3 tocos, a chili and a pop for $2.50.
After we walked around the central area. Strip clubs, Nintendo salesmen and 16<sup>th</sup>
century cathedrals. We caught a
cab back to the bike shop to find John’s bike about done but Max’s a way to go.
In the meantime I had left my bike after changing the rear tire. This shop prides
itself on cleaning the bikes even if they hadn’t worked on them so about the
time we wanted to leave (getting home before dark is a priority of mine) a guy
starts washing my bike. They just don’t wash it they clean the engine, wash the
frame, rims and everything else then wax and apply plastic polish! By the time
he was done it was frigin dark! John’s bike was done so Max hoped on mine and
we rode back to Gina’s. Of course Gina was waiting for us with dinner ready and
we enjoyed another evening with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KBADTyguxmo/TwCSwM_R5-I/AAAAAAAAAKU/g-pGarsgYE4/s1600/Lalo+and+John.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KBADTyguxmo/TwCSwM_R5-I/AAAAAAAAAKU/g-pGarsgYE4/s400/Lalo+and+John.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Lalo, the Tin Man and a blind beggerman</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g70WYLbcPY8/TwCTOVdvgRI/AAAAAAAAAKg/A0ty9cCQMSE/s1600/Max+in+big+chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g70WYLbcPY8/TwCTOVdvgRI/AAAAAAAAAKg/A0ty9cCQMSE/s200/Max+in+big+chair.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Max in Guad.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kl7PCpH-5qA/TwCThlTQxrI/AAAAAAAAAKs/pyIJLUKI8Fk/s1600/Victor+washing+my+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kl7PCpH-5qA/TwCThlTQxrI/AAAAAAAAAKs/pyIJLUKI8Fk/s320/Victor+washing+my+bike.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Even though they did nothing to my bike<br />Victor and Euro Sports gave it a good washing!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wDq3e4Js7iE/TwCUfLcGKgI/AAAAAAAAAK4/-fJs0EB5PAo/s1600/The+Boyz+at+EuroSport.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wDq3e4Js7iE/TwCUfLcGKgI/AAAAAAAAAK4/-fJs0EB5PAo/s400/The+Boyz+at+EuroSport.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>The Boys at Euro Sports who were most helpful and generous!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>Wednesday</b><br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Max’s bike won’t be done until 11:00 so we get up have a
late breakfast and start packing. The plan is to head back to the shop,
pick up Max’s bike and then head back to Lalo’s and Gina’s to pack Max’s bike
and hit the road to Chapala for the night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We get to the shop around noon and find the mechanic still
working on the bike. After lots of translating and pointing we start to make
progress on the bike. They have gone through the entire bike and it still runs
rough. Max finally convinces him to take the carburetor apart. He finds that
the choke cable had come completely out, causing the choke to be partially on
causing the bike to run rich. Long story short the bike was done around 5:30
and in the meantime we have become great friends with the entire shop. Leaving
was with great sorrow. Lots of pictures and goodbye and the bill…..<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bill….. They had at least 10 hours on the POS KTM plus
parts and charged us $320!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The shop rate is $23 hour and the mechanic was trained in Montréal
at a KTM school.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He really knew his shit and accomplished what the KTM shop
in Bellingham could not.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They ended up charging us for 5 hours labor, nothing for
changing my tire and washing my bike. After tipping all involved we rode back
to the house for one last night before resuming the ride south.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pictures to follow……..<o:p></o:p></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-32799417359195849352011-11-05T07:04:00.000-07:002012-01-01T08:31:43.305-08:00ON TO THE MAINLAND<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sunday Again</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Had a great stay at the Oasis in San Ignacio. Ricardo was a
great host. While negociating the rent he sealed the deal with a shot of
tequela each. This morning we spent time working on our blogs. John had trouble
with his iPad loading his blog. Very frustrating.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1Yq82y6XFA/TwCJpo9uKhI/AAAAAAAAAJw/xeBJrfchDAo/s1600/Bikes+in+courtyard+in+Muleja.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1Yq82y6XFA/TwCJpo9uKhI/AAAAAAAAAJw/xeBJrfchDAo/s320/Bikes+in+courtyard+in+Muleja.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Bikes in courtyard in Mulege Baja</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Got on the road sometime around 11:30 and road the hwy east
to San Rosilia then South</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To Mulege. While driving through town Max’s POS KTM quit.
Again! We met some other riders who told us about
a hotel with a courtyard. We found it, got a room and moved the bikes into the
courtyard parking them among the other 12 bikes. The KTM would turn over fine
just not fire. So we started with fuel. Getting fuel, then checked the carb
bowl, got fuel, then the air cleaner, looks dirty after 2 days of riding.
Removed it and the bike fired right up! So as I sit with beer in hand Max is
off getting his hands dirty in gasoline cleaning his air filter again. It looks like we’ll be back on the road
tomorrow morning. Great bunch of guys from all over. Some riding serious dirt
and some, like us, occasional dirt. After riding Max’s KTM I’m jonesing to ride
a smaller bike down here, maybe take a week and go with a group. Pretty cool
how the hotel owners welcomed us and even looked away as we tore into Max’s
bike on their tiled courtyard. At dinner Max started talking to a couple of
women and a guy from the UK. Turns out the women are Canadian and one is living
in Whitehorse! They are down here working for NOLS, National Outdoor Leadership
School. NOLS works with people honing different outdoor skills such as sailing,
kayaking and hiking. I knew my friend Kate from Whitehorse sometimes came down
to the Baja to teach kayaking so I took a shot and asked them if they knew her.
Bingo! Not only did they know her but she, her husband George and daughter
Marin were all at that school right now! The next morning, after saying adios
to our new buddies, we road south to Conception Bay to visit the NOLS facility.
Kate was out with a group and George was nowhere to be found but we did get to
visit with Marin (sorry if I got the spelling wrong) Marin and Merideth gave us
a tour of the place. It’s situated in what I would call one the prettiest bays
I’ve seen. It kind of reminded me of HaLong Bay North of Hanoi with spire like
islands rising out of the Bay (pictures to follow). Great place, great people
and it seems like a great organization. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By now it’s 12:30 and we have 300 miles to go if we want to
make LaPaz for the night so we shove off. The ride from there is boring. All
interior with some small mountains but mostly flat desert. We came up to a
number of semi trucks carrying hay stacked high and wide. On a rest stopped
John made a comment about having on of the loads cut loose. It would be heinous
if I caught on of those in the face. 20 miles down the road the cars
approaching us are flashing their lights at us so we slow down and low and
behold there, right in the middle of the road is a load of spilled hay! I’m
glad I wasn’t following that truck! We rolled into La Paz right at sunset and
found a hotel to stay in for $15 each and they even let us park the bikes in
their lobby. After a good meal and a walk along the maleicon with Max I called
it a night. Oh yea it being Halloween there was lots of costumed people on the
streets. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IKfCgZqNiLw/Tv4PN1cw21I/AAAAAAAAAHs/2YHbm7srXGY/s1600/Marin+and+friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IKfCgZqNiLw/Tv4PN1cw21I/AAAAAAAAAHs/2YHbm7srXGY/s400/Marin+and+friends.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max, Marin, Me, Meridith and John, Mulege Baja</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
T<b>uesday November 1, 2011</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today we have to figure out how to import our bikes to into
Mex1co (this we have to do before boarding the ferry to Mazatlan. We walk about
12 blocks to the Baja Ferry office (I couldn’t figure out how to call them) and
find out they can’t do a f#!% there. They don’t even have a schedule of
sailings. I’m pretty sure they sail around 6 pm so we grab a bite and ride the
17kms out to the terminal. 1<sup>st</sup> we had to import the bikes which you
do at the Banco which is conveniently locate right there. You put up a $300
refundable bond show your title, passport and get copies of each which you do
at an office conveniently located nearby and your on the way to the ticket
office. They charge 1750 pesos (about $150) for each bike and driver that
includes dinner and breakfast. We Sail at 6:30 PM and arrive at 8:00 AM. We
plan on riding to Durango tomorrow which would put us in striking distance of
Leon on Thursday for my tire pick up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bingo! We rode out to the ferry terminal and we were able to
import the bikes, buy a ticket and board the ferry in one long fell swoop.
While waiting for the ferry a group of 6 or 7 guys all riding together showed
up. I think they were all from the LA area and riding down to Buenos Aires.
They planed on being in panama in 8 days! Must plan on slabbing it the entire
way (if there is such a thing in Central America. Anyway we followed them off
in Mazatilan and what a cluster f$%#! Trying to keep Max and John in sight in
all the traffic is a challenge but 6 or 7 guys? Good luck! The ferry is huge, way more car deck
and way less lounging areas than the Alaska ferries. Seems the priority is with
freight not tourists. It’s a 15-hour crossing and we did have reclining seats
but the heat and humidity made for an uncomfortable night. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3mcO4E7QmWg/TrU6006ZgqI/AAAAAAAAAE8/dBnm_ygm8Rk/s1600/ferry+into+mazatlan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3mcO4E7QmWg/TrU6006ZgqI/AAAAAAAAAE8/dBnm_ygm8Rk/s400/ferry+into+mazatlan.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-weight: bold;">From the ferry arriving in Mazatlan</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Wednesday </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ferry docked around 9 but it was 10:30 before we finally
got off. It was decided to head straight for Durango since it was only 200
miles away. Getting out of the city took a while but once out it was wide open for about 15 miles
then the road began to climb and turn until we reached <span style="color: #262626; font-family: ArialMT;">"La columna vertebral de los demonios!"</span>
“The devils backbone!” For 100 miles the road carved through the mountains. A
very narrow, winding road with 1000 foot drop offs that we shared with
numerious tractor trailers. The road went from sea level up to close to 9000
feet in less than 40 miles! I would have to include this road in my top 10 list
of exciting roads. We all had our close calls. I made a very ill advised pass
on a right hand hairpin turn around a semi truck. I could see there was no cars
coming down the road so I thought I could get around him on the outside.
Instead he swung way wide forcing me on what little shoulder there was on the
left and causing me to hang out there in the wrong lane way too long! I lucked
out and there was no other vehicles coming the other way. Lesson learned. Max
simply went into a turn too hot and lost his rear and John met up with not one
but two trucks passing a semi coming his way. I would guess our average speed
on this road was around 25 which put us way behind schedule. Did I mention I
hate riding at night? By the time we got to the top of theses mountains it was
getting late with no where to stay so we soldered on, finally getting to the
toll road that took us into Durango. Driving into any Mexican city at night
trying to find a hotel, keeping track of the other two guys while avoiding one
way streets is , to put it mildly, terrifying! We finally just parked the bikes
and went out on foot looking for a hotel with some sort of secure parking.
Found one, ate a late dinner and bagged out for the night. I almost forgot to
mention this day was also <span style="color: #262626; font-family: ArialMT;">día
de los muertos</span>, day of the dead, a Mexican holiday much like our
Halloween except bigger.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thursday</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Too tired (little sleep on the ferry followed by the long
ride here) to think about riding today plus we wanted to at lease see some of
Durango before leaving so we opted to stay another night. Spent the day walking
around town, finding a laundry, looking for some ratchet straps etc. Met a cab
driver who offered to give us a tour of town that night. One hour for 12 buck.
Pretty good deal eh? <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xGGYPNAAd0g/TrU907lhbeI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/48GaqhOcmUM/s1600/Boys+in+Durango.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xGGYPNAAd0g/TrU907lhbeI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/48GaqhOcmUM/s400/Boys+in+Durango.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The boys in Durango</span></td></tr>
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Friday November 5<sup>th</sup></div>
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Packed, breakfast and on the road by 9:30 (that’s pretty
good for us. Today we ride towards Guadalajara. After the last experience we
decided to break it up into a 2-day ride. We took the highway towards Zacatecas
and ended up in Jerez de Garcia Salinas, a smaller town southwest of Zacatecas.
The ride was good, traveling along high desert and then through some
mountainous areas. We were up around 5000 feet so the was cool and somewhat
clean. One thing I’m noticing is a lack of garbage along the roadside. I don’t
if the government has finally cracked down or maybe this part of Mexico in more
environmentally sensitive. I guess I’ll find out the further south I go. Every
night there is music in the streets. It may be part of the Day of the Dead calibration
or maybe they are just having fun.</div>
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<br /></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-31725495926810642682011-10-30T08:21:00.000-07:002012-01-01T08:26:24.692-08:00INTO THE MEXICO<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My wonderful cousin Jenny and her<br />two dogs, Nelly and Mr. Wilson</td></tr>
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Saturday morning at the crack of 11:30 we pulled out of
cousin Jenny’s on our way to the world famous Alice’s Restaurant to meet up
with my buddy, and fellow Cobra, Rick Farren. After lunch we road down to the
coast South of Half Moon Bay and began Ricks</div>
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Moto Tours. This included a blue bird ride down the coast
followed by a town tour, even riding by the famous Santa Cruz Boardwalk,
stopping in on his local KTM dealer. He introduced us to the owner Tom who
knows KTM640’s inside and out. So I took advantage and asked him to listen to
Max’s bike and he confirmed the engines always sound as though they are just
about to come apart. Dinner and Lodging at the Farrenmont (Rick and Pam’s
house) hosted by the owners Rick and Pam. Thanks, awesome dinner, drinks and
sleeping quarters not to mention the steak and egg breakfast the following
morning. The highlight of course was visiting with Ricks Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob
is the oldest member of the Cobra MC and quite possibly in the best shape. He
is keen on traveling and was one of the few people who followed my last blog,
Jimi’s Great Northern Journey. He even went as far as getting all the maps and
marking my route, putting them together with a printed version of my blog and
giving it all to me. I probably would not have read my own blog if he hadn’t
done that.</div>
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In the previous post I half jokingly said “hell maybe tomorrow we’ll even make it half way to San Diego”. We didn’t.</div>
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Sunday morning at the crack of 11:30 (sound familiar?) we
hit the road with Rick as tour master again. We rode south through Carmel and
along the coast on 1. Another blue bird day! At the Bixby Bridge we detoured up
a dirt road that started with a sign reading “Impassable when raining”. Good
test for the overloaded GS and the yet to be tested John Briner. Both came
though with flying colors! Thanks and goodbye to Rick, who turned around and
headed home, and we continued riding on down the prettiest coast ride in the
world. Stopped for a couple of tamales and once more to view a shitload of sea
lions and decided it was getting too late to camp. Max found a hostel on line.
For $80 a night! We ended up with a hotel I got on priceline save a bundle; it
was only $75 a night. Dinner at a Mexican Restaurant and down for a good nights
sleep. </div>
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Monday morning we actually got on the road around 8:30. Road
down Hwy 1 past Santa Barbara, through Ventura, Malibu, Huntington Beach etc.
etc. and arrived in Encinitas around 5:00. We are staying with a friend of
Johns named Shasheen, one block from the beach. An awesome host. We have
totally taken over his 600 sf house. Shaaheen turned his house and refrigerator
full of beer to us not to mention the party favors! We downed a couple of beers
and went out to dinner on, you guessed it, Shasheen. A great walk back on the
beach, some wine and to bed.</div>
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Tuesday was moto maintenance day. I road down to San Diego
and had my knobbies put on and also a stripped bolt replaced for my shift
lever. Great experience with San Diego BMW. The got me in when promised and out
in a hurry. Not a common experience when on the rode. Example: A number of
years ago I made an appointment (3 months in advance!) to have my bike serviced
at the Motorcycle Shop in Anchorage. I arrived before they opened but somehow
became third in line. It took them another day before even getting the bike in.
When you’re on the road that’s sucks! I know Logan would say “get over it
Jimi!” Meanwhile back at the ranch the other two was doing their chores. Briner
getting his hair cut and Max finding a coffee shop. Of course they still had
their tires to change, which they managed to do just before the darkness fall
upon the city. Dinner that night was on me so on the recommendation of the
neighbors we went to Captain Keno. This place is a trip. The best way to
describe it is picture a dive bar built in the early 60’s complete with
nogahide booths, a bar and a grill except it all was cherry! We all had the
meatloaf dinner, which included salad, mashed potatoes and meatloaf at a total
cost of $18.50. That’s right I gave them a 20 and got back change for 4 people!
My Bay Area friends would recognize it as a Bertila’s but cleaner. Back on the
beach and was about to call it an early night when two friends of Shasheen’s
showed up. It was Isabela’s birthday so we had to toast that and a number of
other not so memorable events. Erica, her friend, was a yoga and massage
therapist and was showing her skills on Max. Next was my turn and worked on
trying to get my stick body to bend. She finally gave up and gave me what I’d
call a light Thai massage (not to worry Charlotte, no happy ending). It did
feel great and I was sore in both the mind and body the next morning.</div>
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Wednesday</div>
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By the time we cleaned the house, packed the bikes and
sorted our heads out and found coffee it was pert near noon before leaving. Max
needed riding shorts and John needed an ATM so add another 30 minutes. I wanted
a pair of reading glasses so we split up and I went for the specs. After
looking for max and John all over town (they were in the basement parking of
the store I was in) we’ll add another 30 minutes. So by 1:00 we’re headed for
the border. Out of 100 cars we were signaled out for a search. At least the
customs women were cute. I think they pulled us over cuz they thought Max was hot.</div>
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Things went so smooth I completely forgot to go inside and
get our visa and importation papers. The next few minutes were a blur. Max
leading (he’s been there before) He hesitated at the correct turn, which
started a chain reaction resulting in John running into the rear of my bike! No
harm no foul. We ended up getting spit out in Tijuana so The GPS came into
play. Unfortunately Dufas 3 (my GPS) missed a turn and we ended up back in the
city. This time I immediately realized the mistake and was able to turn off on
a mid road to make a u turn at the same time a policia car was on my ass
hitting the siren a blasting me with unintelligible Spanish. John being on the
backside of them decided it best to continue and not try to make the turn. Max
and I backed up and began the chase! He was parked at the next turn around and
I pull up. Max missed it and continued looking for the next one. There wasn’t
one and John and I waited of 5 minutes thinking he couldn’t have gotten lost
could he? Turns out he eventually just hopped over the medium divider and we
are on our way. On the toll road. Turns out the toll was about 8 bucks to
Ensenada and well worth it. Our brains were fried by that time. We found an
affordable hotel for the night and hung out. </div>
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Thursday</div>
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Up early to be the first in line at the immigration office.
Got our visitors visas and was told that is all we would need (not too sure
about the now but we’ll find out when we get to La Paz). Spent sometime looking
for a restaurant not in the tourist zone. No luck so we eat where all the other
gringos eat. Ensenada is pretty well set up exclusively for us gringos, the
port area anyway. After searching the city for some cinch straps we spend a
half hour just getting out of the city. I think this will be the norm for the
trip. The ride east on hwy 3 was great. Up and down mountain passes with very
little traffic. We found the turn off to Mike’s Sky Ranch without any trouble
and rode the 24 miles to the ranch. Before going into the trials and
tribulations of getting there a little history….</div>
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Mike’s is a haven for off road enthusiasts and a Mecca for
off road motorcycles. It was started as a weekend get a way for California
exec’s and their secretaries for weekend rendezvous. They had a airstrip nearby
where the fat cats could fly into without any worry of getting caught/.
Sometime in the 60’s the off road crowd found it and it has become a
destination for them. It’s nestled in a small valley in the mountains and has a
pool, bar and restaurant. But getting there on an 800# motorcycle is another
story. The road in is, of course, dirt and sand. The dirt is fine but the sand
is a bitch! In Mongolia they called this sand “slick sand” for obvious reasons.
When it gets deeper than a couple of inches (2/3 of the road is this way) the
front end of the bike gets a mind of it’s own and tends to want to go right of
left, not straight. At first I thought going fast was the best way but after a
number of near crashes and Max going down we slowed the pace to 1<sup>st</sup>
and 2<sup>nd</sup> gear. This worked well in the lighter sand but then we hit
the deep stuff. 1<sup>st</sup> gear while feathering the clutch seemed to work.
That is until I forgot to put the clutch in and the mother ship was down! John
plodding along behind us was the only one to make it to Mikes without falling.
There walks a man, a Man made of anvil granite! A beer has never tasted so good
(except maybe in Mongolia) as it did when we arrived. An awesome steak dinner
and in bed early.</div>
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Friday Mikes Sky Ranch</div>
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A breakfast then a hike. Worked on the POS KTM. Air filter, jetting, and new plug,
running too rich. Seemed to have made a difference. We’ll see tomorrow, we’ll
have 24 miles of 1<sup>st</sup> and 2<sup>nd</sup> gear to try it out. Finally
time to catch up on the blog! We were promised the bar would Great Pollio dinner with a couple
living in Spain and his brother from Calistoga. Early to bed, lights go out at 10.</div>
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Saturday</div>
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They shortened the road back to the highway! I swear it’s
was miles shorter going out even though it was the same road. Must be we are
all getting used to riding in 1<sup>st</sup> and 2<sup>nd</sup> gear. Max’s
bike is running much better since we changed to a leaner main jet. I road it
out the last 1/3 of the road to the highway and man is it fun! After slogging
through the sand on the GS it felt as though I was riding a dirt bike. It also
did wonders for my confidence. The ride East to San Felipe was through
mountains and valleys, very pretty.</div>
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San Felipe itself is nothing to write home about (then why
are you writing home about it?). Kind of a dirty town with beaches lined with
gringo pads. Lots of potential development. Square miles of graded land with
streets leading to nowhere. The ride down the coast to Gonzaga Bay once out of
the San Felipe area was spectacular!
On the map it showed it as a dirt road but 2/3’s of it turned out to be
new pavement. Of course the last 1/3 was washboard and sand. Arrived at Gonzaga
Bay around 5 and went straight for the “Resort”. Not too much here but the did
have a cold beer waiting for us. After talking it up with some other tourista’s
it was decided to find a campsite and cook dinner. We were told of some plapas
down the beach so we headed out while the sun was setting. We turned off the
road where we thought the campsites were. I went first, then Max, then Briner.
After about 50 meters I bogged downed and buried my bike to the panniers, Max
fell over and John comes walking up and I think he made the right choice and
didn’t follow. Not! He went down at the start! After pulling all my gear off we
managed to move my bike to safer ground. Now it’s dark but we managed a pretty
good dinner, rice veggies and Pad Thai. Set up the tents and went to bed.</div>
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Sunday</div>
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An early morning walk on the beach at sunrise. I thought
about a dip in the gulf but after spotting two sharks out there the day before and
also seeing all the feeder fish jumping for their lives I decided against it.
Back at camp John and Max cooked up a delicious pot of oatmeal and apples.
Being the self appointed tour master I appointed them the official cooks for
the trip and myself as chief bottle washer. While taking down camp Max found a
scorpion under his jacket. Shit one more thing to worry about! If I remember
right it’s the small one’s that will kill you and this one was big so no
worries, right? We all made it back to the road without incident and rode
toward the Pacific. 40 more mile of loose gravel and sand. Much more of this
and I’ll be trading my GS in for a 250 or something.</div>
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Anyway the highlight of this portion of the ride was coming
upon Coco’s corner, made famous in the movie “ON Any Sunday” and “Dust to
Glory”. This guy Coco has been out there, literally in the middle of the
desert, for years. His place is a dive in the 1<sup>st</sup> degree but is so
unique I hesitate to call it that. The entire compound is fenced with a 6 foot
high fence made of wire and beer cans that whistle and chine in the wind. He
also has 100’s of signed panties and tee shirts handing from the palapa. He
sleeps out in the open palapa and doesn’t even make his bed! It is a must stop
for any off road riders down there because of his notoriety and he also sells
gas out of 55 gallon drums. Did I mention he has no legs? He gets by with thick
leather cups on his stumps and kind of crawls around or while visiting with
folks, a wheelchair fits the bill. At this point I trade Max bikes for the rest
of the ride to the highway. Wow! This is actually fun! Unfortunately I feel
obligated to let him ride the GS a ways on the paved highway. After a few miles
my hands are numb from the vibration and my butt is sore. We arrive in San
Ignacio at dark and find a hotel with secure parking for the bikes. Ummm
margarita! Dinner, watch some women boxing and I’m out for the count! </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fjMSza_6TCI/Tq1jYBAXw3I/AAAAAAAAADk/1EEeiBRoEqc/s1600/Sailing+on+the+Bay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fjMSza_6TCI/Tq1jYBAXw3I/AAAAAAAAADk/1EEeiBRoEqc/s320/Sailing+on+the+Bay.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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While working on our bikes at cousin Jenny's two complete strangers (who also ride) walked up and asked about our trip. After a few minutes offered to take us sailing on the Bay. I hesitated and Max jumped all over it. Thanks Steve and Tom! </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OSVLiWO6V5k/Tq1k3PbarSI/AAAAAAAAADs/8nt2RCEehEE/s1600/Uncle+Bob.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OSVLiWO6V5k/Tq1k3PbarSI/AAAAAAAAADs/8nt2RCEehEE/s320/Uncle+Bob.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Uncle Bob at Rick's. Bob is the senior member of the Cobras MC</div>
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Changing to knobbie tires in Encinitas. Sorry about the mess Shahsheen!</div>
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Let's get healthy. Breakfast in Encinadas.<o:p></o:p></div>
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GS + Sand = Work! On the road to Mike's Sky Ranch</div>
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At Mike's, a very bike friendly place</div>
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Mike's Sky Ranch</div>
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John goes down avoiding a Military vehicle</div>
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Coco's<o:p></o:p></div>
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Coco's Corner</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QQwimrxlUqM/Tq1rT6k2JPI/AAAAAAAAAE0/-dFNPINRs_E/s1600/Dug+in+at+the+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QQwimrxlUqM/Tq1rT6k2JPI/AAAAAAAAAE0/-dFNPINRs_E/s320/Dug+in+at+the+beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Dug in at Gonzaga Bay<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-31157806019926005842011-10-21T08:46:00.000-07:002012-01-24T13:22:57.550-08:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">LET THE FUN BEGIN</span><br />
FRIDAY OCTOBER 21st<br />
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Well the trip officially begins today! After spending years of thinking about it, months of planning and days of drinking we are finally on our way (I hope as I'm sitting here waiting for Max and John to get here for our early 11:00 departure). I've just spent 4 days here in the Bay Area shopping, packing and repacking and visiting friends and family. 4 days I figure is about the maximum amount of time I should spend at my cousin Jenny's house. Any longer I'd be afraid I'd no longer be welcomed. Plus I've finish off all the gin in the house and there is not much beer left. Not to mention the two earthquakes we had yesterday. I do not want to be anywhere near this place when the big one hits!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Day 1- We meet Rick Farren at Alices Restuarant South of SF<br />Rick wisely parked his bike well away from ours</b></td></tr>
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Today we hope to make Santa Cruz via Alice's Restaurant. I know! Your saying "they will never get to South America at this pace" but hey you've got to start with baby steps. Hell, maybe tomorrow we will even make it half way to San Diego!<br />
Thanks for all the well wishes and I promise to start including more pictures to make this Blog a little more interesting.<br />
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CATCHING UP ON SOME PICTURES<br />
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Dharma Don leaving Skagway</div>
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My buddy Oceanius. Friends Steve and Sara's son who I stayed with on Widbey Island</div>
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My friend Russ who road with me from Widby to Weaverville Ca.</div>
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GS in front of Platina Store in Northern California</div>
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Goodbye Jim and Lenny </div>
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A Russian Orthodox monastery in the hills above Platina</div>
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A Grizzled old Biker</div>
<br />Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624896689447154599.post-61360820332039144972011-10-19T09:02:00.000-07:002012-03-11T07:08:52.353-07:00THE BEGINNING<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"> OK let's get this blog on the road! Most all of you reading this will know by now I'm on</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"> my way to Ushuaia, Argentina from my home in Skagway, Alaska. My vehicle of choice </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-size: small;">is a 2004 BMW GS Adventure Motorcycle toting a shit load of stuff including tools, spare </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-size: small;">parts, camping equipment, clothes for at least two seasons, cameras and oh yea there is</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-size: small;"> room for one liter of wine! I'm also sporting a Spot device from which you can follow my</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"> progress via the web at:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0mFoBjpvVUtRk7iK81NGJynQYEfuhL7js</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Prepping KTM before leaving</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Riding with me on this trip will be my adventurous son Max. What an opportunity for </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">me to have a son that is willing to spent 7 months of his adult life with his controlling </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">father! Also riding with me is John Briner, a friend of mine from Skagway, who was </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">already planning a winter trip to Argentina but decided getting there via motorcycle</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">would add some adventure to his trip. Although he hasn't ridden a motorcycle in over </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">30 years he bought a bike, a KLR650, riding gear and everything else he'll need for this trip </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">and signed on! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">I began my trip September 8th riding from Skagway to Oakland California (somehow it </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">seemed important that I ride from my house, down to the end of the world and back to</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> my house). Not wanting to ride through rain, sleet and snow I decided to ride to California,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">park my bike there and then fly back home to winterize our properties. I'm currently in</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">flying south to reunite with my bike. John and Max decided to ferry down from Skagway </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">then ride down and meet me in Oakland.</span><br />
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Lake, BC</td></tr>
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</span><b>Don Corwin trying to squeeze in one more thing<br />While leaving Skagway from the Smothie Shop</b></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">My ride south was somewhat uneventful. I road down the Alcan</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> highway for the umpteenth </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">time. My friend Dharma Don accompanied me as far as Laird Hot Springs on the 1st day and </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">I was on my own after that. It rained cats and dogs the first night but the morning dawned </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">sunny with patches of low fog making it a beautiful start of the day. Muncho Lake and Stone</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Mountain were a joy, great scenery and animal viewing combined with smooth twisty roads </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">made for careful but fun riding! Chetwynd for dinner. As I was eating a man walks in and</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> asks me if that was my bike outside. Thinking he was an admirer I puffed up and said "yep </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">that's mine". He then said "well it's laying on it's side". Bummer! Fortunately being in Canada </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">I had lots of help getting it back upright. Seems someone hit it while backing out of their </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">parking space. No harm no foul I finished eating and got back on the road. In hindsight I </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">should have stayed the night there but I pushed on to Prince George. I ended up riding in</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">the dark, and I mean dark! The highlight of that portion of the ride was as I'm riding along </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">envisioning moose, bears and deers lurking just beyond my headlights my mirrors light up!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Turing my head I'm treated with an amazing display of Northern Lights stretching from one </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">horizon to the other! I guess it's kind of rare in that neck of the woods. Total miles for that </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">day was 730! That's about 200 too many. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">The next day it was on to Hope, BC. A much easier ride highlighted by the Frazier Canyon.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">I made it to Widbey Island on Sunday and spent the night with friends. Steve, Sara, Oceanius</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">(not sure about the spelling) and Ellis were great hosts. BBQ'd the thickest New Yorks </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">I've seen. Yum.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">I haven't mentioned the weather, probably cause it has been great. Ever since leaving </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Skagway, where it had been raining for three weeks straight, The skies have been blue and</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">the roads dry.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">On Monday I hooked up with my friend Russ (from the old Jewell Construction days) and after</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">riding around the Olympic Peninsula found the perfect campground. Restaurant,dive bar and </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">campground all within 100 yards of each other.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?msid=210918567354699193917.0004b74c44674e70c1d95&msa=0&ll=48.156009,-122.799683&spn=0.516697,1.229095</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Tuesday broke camp and headed south on 101. Breakfast in Astoria (served by this lovely </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">lady named Sherina who had spent time in South America building houses for Habitat for </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Humanity) but I degress..... Shortly after Astoria we tired of the coast and found some cool </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">twisties out of Hobo. We then worked our way down to 199 to Cave Junction where we</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">entered Cobra Country. ( For the few of you who haven't heard of the Cobra MC they are a</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">motorcycle club I've belonged to since high school. Mostly guys I went to high school with we </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">meet yearly and tear ass around Northern California and Southern Oregon occasionally veering </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">off course and finding ourselves in the Alps or Colorado). From Cave Junction we road the </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">familiar roads in the Trinity Alps even passing the spot where I started to crash while in </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">California and finally came to a stop in Oregon. Spent the night in Weaverville.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Note: We did not get to Weaverville but instead ended up in Rice Hill just off Hwy 5 south of</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Cottage Grove, Oregon.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Cool digs in Rice Hill Or.</b></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Wednesday I parted company with Russ (he had to high tail it up to Medford to hook up with </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">his hot new girlfriend). He was later going to meet up with the Cobras but I never saw him </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">again. Must have been to intimidated or maybe just having more fun with his squeeze.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Thursday through the following Friday was spent with the Cobras riding most of the same roads</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">I had just come down on. The rest is as we say "what happens on a Cobra trip stays on a Cobra</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">trip".</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Then it was back home in Skagway for three weeks tending to business winterizing our</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">properties for the winter and getting ready for phase two of my journey.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br /></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br /></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-banOcpvr60s/TwCEqaTQWOI/AAAAAAAAAJk/oVwLtRXfXIA/s1600/A+frames.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-banOcpvr60s/TwCEqaTQWOI/AAAAAAAAAJk/oVwLtRXfXIA/s320/A+frames.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cool digs in Rice Hill</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"></span></span></div>
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</tbody></table>Jimi Jewellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11469948348672863116noreply@blogger.com0