BOGOTA TO PANAMA JANUARY 2015

13/1/15

Sending the bike to Panama was very straightforward.  Everything was handled by Lyncargo . Apart from three hours getting clearance from customs for a 5 minute job the whole experience was very painless. Thank you to the various people who taught the customs officer how to use her computer.

 Once again I have been overawed by kindness people have shown me and special thanks go to " El Negro "

With El Negro

  Before travelling home a few days in Barranquilla was the order of the day.
     When faced with friendliness at every turn,  It's easy to forget how dangerous these places are. That is until you see someone with a gun held to their head being forced to hand over a mobile phone. In the middle of the day on a main road its certainly thought provoking.

 The food here in Barranquilla is excellent and I am amazed how the same staples as East Africa can be served so differently.

  Barranquilla is one of the major carnival sites in the world and I have seen the salsa and fandango first hand. You have to wonder how these places will be spoiled as tourism kicks in.

QUITO TO BOGOTA, AUGUST 2014

Quito to Bogota

I'm back, where was I?

 I guess I must have hit the wall and been lacking a bit of motivation caused by a couple of repairs.
  After due consideration I have reached the conclusion that there is no reason forcing me to continue other than my own stubbornness and the fact that I don't want to wonder what it would have been like to have finished. 

  2 days before going back to pick up my bike in Quito I recieved word that I needed to carry a new clutch with me and, as the two days were to be spent mainly sitting on a plane, this was a challenge to say the least.  I picked up the parts in Chicago at Countryside BMW and carried them with me.Sounds simple enough but i am now on the mailing list of twenty parts suppliers plus on arrival at Ecuadorian customs there was a debate as to whether parts for a motorcycle on temporary import papers are themselves temporary imports, all in spanish, (at least they were speaking spanish and I was doing my best Manuel impression , que ? )

      The nice customs supervisor took pity on me and I was soon on my way to deliver the clutch to Diego .

25/8/14

Away we go, riding through the centre of Quito trying to find my way out, complicated slightly by road closures due to an earthquake.
  I was a bit concerned because when I said I expected to reach Bogota in three days the guys from freedom tours had to dry their trousers.
Ecuador is a very beautiful country and has a lot to recommend it and even more that I haven't seen.The last night in Ecuador I tucked in to chinese food at my hotel in Tulcan

26/8/14

Up early and reach the border at Rumichaca/Ipiales with the whole day ahead and a certain amount of trepidation, well founded it turns out but not for the more obvious reasons.
I don't know what it is about officials in Ecuador but they process people when they have nothing better to do, they obviously have an agreement with Saudi Arabian immigration department for training.
Columbia is  a country ready to welcome visitors and the formalities were almost a pleasure , even down to being allowed in and riding 20 kms to the nearest town to buy insurance. I was soon on my way and apart from groups of fully armed soldiers every so often I wondered what all the fuss was about and  began thinking maybe I would manage in less than three days and was imagining my triumphant entrance into Bogota.
One thing that I discovered is that there are a lot of trucks on the road in Columbia, later on I was to discover an interesting fact about these trucks, namely that their fastest speed going around hairpin bends is slower than my absolute wobble speed, add to this the incline and the going was interesting to say the least. Today was without doubt the hardest days riding I have ever done , overtaking trucks and trailers through the tightest of gaps. When I found a hotel for the night I had to clean my underpants
Hotel with bike parked in the room 10 USD.There is a downside to not having many tourists and that is that you end up ordering food about which you have no clue, sometimes nice, sometimes different.

27/8/14

  Up early and on the road I discovered that there was no relief from the trucks and with the constant climbing and descending this was really really tough,  even a break to have a battle of wits with a policeman trying to solicit a bribe didn't lighten the load. The policeman obviously thought I was loco when I thanked him for saving me having to ride all the way to Bogota when he told me he was going to call a truck and a crane to take my bike away.
Eventually I arrived in Bogota in the rain, it was quite interesting discovering that my tyres do not grip very well in the rain, especially on smooth tar repairs.Another interesting thing is the way the rush hour traffic will happily run into you if you don't get out of the way, this is without doubt the worst traffic I have encountered. I chickened out at one stage and asked if I could wait on a garage forcourt till the traffic died down, they said I was welcome to wait but they were only open for another 4 hours.
 Eventually arrived at a hotel after 14 hrs of the hardest riding i have ever done.


28/8/14

BARRANQUILA AND CARTAGENA


  After the stress of Bogota this is like heaven. Of course I don't have to make a living here but I can't find anything bad about good weather, good food and music at every turn.
 The first hotel ( in Barranquilla ) was a bit basic,

People started arriving by surf board for breakfast, from where I have no idea.
 Just one night was enough and on to Cartagena.

 The centre of Cartagena came as a shock, the architecture was like being transported back in time, not at all rundown.

   I am only scratching the surface as I pass through but I have to say that Columbia is my favorite place so far, the problem will be when the tourism takes off and everywhere is made the same as everywhere else in the west

COCHABAMBA TO QUITO JUNE 2014

10/6/14
 Arrived in Cochabamba via Buenos Aires, exhausted but excited. I feel quite at home in Cochabamba and settle for a couple of days preparing for the journey ahead.
 Lake Titicaca had been niggling away in my mind and I suddenly remembered about a book I had read in the late 1970s that I now realise is probably instrumental into why I am doing all this, The incredible Journey by Tristan Jones describing his journey from Lake Titicaca to the Dead Sea by boat. What is more incredible is that when looking him up on the internet it turns out one of his boats had my family name, well, incredible to me anyway.

13/6/14 COCHABAMBA TO PATACAMAYA
  The weather in Cochabamba was excellent and after a long debate with myself I put the liner in my riding suit and set off through the morning traffic to the outskirts of town where I was waved through the toll barrier and the adventure began.
  I was planning about 300 miles a day to Quito and in my ignorance figured it was easily do-able even if I got behind the first couple of days.I had been worrying about all sorts of things, strikes, altitude sickness etc but everything was fine, lots of hairpins and climbs going over 4000 metres back down again before climbing again to Patacamaya at 4000 metres. I hadn't worried about getting a flat tire but nevertheless I got one but that meant that I was able to ease my mind about the efficasy of my telescopic hand pump. Murphy's law seems to dictate that things only happen in the middle of nowhere . I couldn't find any puncture puncture and I was able to get enough air into the tire to carry on. It seems strange that in the middle of nowhere, a small village will be full of tire repair establishments and high in the Andes I pulled over and had a proper check to see where the air was leaking and having fixed the problem handed over 50 cents and was on my way.

 I don't best know how to describe Patacamaya, I suppose it is a market town and it was the first place where there was any accommodation. Having enquired about hotels at the petrol station but not fully understood the answer I cruised up and down the main street trying to figure which place to plump for.There were various Hospedajes in various stages of being completed but I eventually decided on the Potosi Hotel which, compared to the rest , looked rather grand and had locked parking.

 In my best Spanish I asked if they had any vacancies and was told a price which I was sure I had misunderstood. 6 dollars for an en-suite room in the finest hotel in town, surely there was some mistake. No, the price was correct and I was given the key in exchange for  Bolivars and I set off to my room. Basic is a word that comes to mind , well used is a good description of the bed and it is true that the bathroom had all the pieces one would expect in a bathroom although it is not a good time to realise there is no toilet paper right when you need it most. I think I had been blindsided trying to avoid the water on the floor as i sat down.
 There was even a TV, at the price, how do they do it I wondered. Having dumped my bag and put the padlock back on the door I headed off in search of food . It was around this time that I realised that at this altitude  all I could manage was a slow amble.To cut a long story short I quickly realised that I was not going to find a decent restaurant in this place and having perused one or two purveyors of grilled chicken and chips I headed back to my room with a couple of bottles of water and some chocolate biscuits, oh, and a toilet roll.
 It must have been while I was sitting on the bed tucking into my feast and watching the blurred outline of a Brazil match that I realised that it was getting cold and that there was no heater.The night was spent fully clothed in bed and I am still here to tell the story.


14/6/14 PATACAMAYA TO ARICA

   Such was the comfort of the Potosi hotel that I was on the road before light and it wasn't much longer before I couldn't feel my fingers in the freezing cold but as the sun came up things got better.
 Border crossing at Tambo Quemada was very busy but well organised and then I was into Chile and the descent from 4600 metres began.
 I have to say that  these twisty roads with shear drops of god knows how far certainly help to focus on your imortality but also  it is hard to imagine the vastness, At 4000 metres plus on the alto plano its just like being on another level and you don't get the impression of being in the mountains, that is if you ignore the altitude sickness.

    Bolivia is my favorite country so far, it is relatively unspoiled and there is a huge difference between the cities and the rural areas.I have to pinch myself to realise this is all real and that it is me high in the Andes, witnessing what I had only imagined before. If I had been better at geography or if Geography at school could be made half as exciting as it really is I am sure it would have been my best subject. As I have seen relatively little I have to return , It's tough but somebody has to do it.

 The night was spent in a very nice hotel with a very very nice room on the coast of Chile in Arica. In the cold light of day I realised that I was two hundred miles behind schedule after only 2 days of travel.

15/6/14 ARICA TO CAMANA
     I was up and away before breakfast, this was the day, I decided, I was going to make up the miles and get back on schedule.


     Good ride to one of the main border crossings and was really pleased to arrive at the same time as a load of coaches, shared a joke with a Chilean about his team , turns out he was Australian, How we laughed.


  There seems to be some uniformity about all these land borders in as much as it seems the busier they are the more efficient they operate. It wasn't long before I was on my way again wondering once again why I was putting myself through this.


For some reason I had got it into my head that all would be more or less easy going at sea level for the rest of my route to Quito. The fact of it was that following the coast meant climbing and following twisting roads through the edge of the Andes, added to this was the enjoyment of battling the trucks, where were they coming from ? I wondered and more importantly, where were they going?


Eventually reached Camana, Its a nice feeling arriving at the end of a hard tiring ride, cruising into town feeling like a conquering hero and wondering why nobody else is interested, maybe I should put stickers all over my bike.


  Signed into what seemed a reasonable hotel. It was comfortable enough and the meal in the restaurant was nice enough but I stupidly expected to be able to get a good nights sleep. All was not lost however because by the time I left I was almost singing along to the throbbing beat of South American Salsa music emanating from the disco downstairs and luckily it was only between 1 am and 5 am. Seems Saturday night is the same the world over ( complete with youths vomiting in the main square.)






 16/614 CAMANA TO BARRANCA


    Today I would be traversing Lima, I had been looking forward to this since leaving Cochabamba, there is something bracing about being in the madness of a capital city's traffic on a motorcycle. It's something we all should experience so that we show more courtesy to strangers we see on the road.
 I had been perusing the map and was comfortable with the fact that the Pan Americana went through Lima and out the other side, albeit by a fairly circuitous route. The traffic was building nicely as I approached the city and I held my speed and nerve to avoid being cut up by the locals. I have long done away with my earphones for the GPS so I was travelling along glancing down regularly to make sure I was still on the red line and feeling quite pleased with myself at my progress.
  Three hours after entering the city I came out the other side trembling and sweating. These highways are very fine until you miss a turning and then have to find your way back .I think I can confidently say that I have seen parts of Lima that no sane foreigner would venture into and I discovered that the local taxi drivers either have a warped sense of humour or genuinely don't know how to get back to the PanAmerican Norte.
 As is my habit I was in an hotel in Barranca about three in the afternoon and enjoyed a very nice lunch. I have to say that the food in Peru has been the best in the whole of South America, at least to my uncultured palate it seems that way. The hotel is really quite good, right in the centre of town and 30 years ago it was probably quite grand but the service was still excellent .

17/6/14 BARANCA TO CHICLAYA


 Another day of more of the same, climbing high and coming down again, endless miles of mountainous terrain, good fun but better not get too near the limits with shear drops at the sides of the road and the odd truck coming the other way on my side of the road.
 Got stopped for a document check/ BS session by the Peruvian police. Many many years ago when travelling in far away places people would ask where you came from and then in a friendship ritual would do a thumbs up and say " Bobby Charlton " , Imagine my surprise , after telling them I was from Liverpool , to be greeted with a thumbs up and " Stevie Gerrard, Corazon de Liverpool ", I wonder if he knows he is famous even amongst the Peruvian Caribinieri, and in a different way to many Liverpool Scallies.


18/6/14  CHICLAYA TO TUMBES


 I was debating whether to get into Ecuador today but largely because I had changed too much money into Peruvian I decided to stay in Tumbes. Again another hard days ride, its not easy to cover large distances on these roads but I had clawed back most of the deficit and I was left with 385 miles the next day to reach Quito. I travelled past a lot of resorts, typical of a lot of sea-side places in many parts of the world. Still a long way to go before they are spoilt but they are working on it.
 The hotel in Chiclaya was nice and I had booked ahead to the same chain in Tumbes and early afternoon was enjoying lunch wondering how Ecuador would be the next day.

19/6/14 TUMBES TO QUITO
  Every time I ask somebody how far somewhere is I get an answer in hours but looking at 40 miles on a map and being told three hours had me wondering so I was on the road before dawn to get to the border. After 40 mins I arrived at a huge Border crossing area with both the Peruvian and Ecuadorian immigration in one building and the Peruvian customs about 150 metres away. I was the only person wanting to cross at this hour and having woken the Ecuadorian immigration official from a deep sleep slumped over her desk I headed back to cancel the import papers for the bike.
 Oh how I laughed when I arrived back at my bike and discovered I had lost my keys. Once again Murphy came to the fore as I eventually found them at the last place I looked.
 For some reason the Ecuadorian Customs was 20 Kms further on and when I got there once again I was the only customer.
 They say things are sent to test us and standing for over an hour while an official talks to his mate is truly testing, especially when you have got out of bed extra early to complete 380 miles during the day.
 I had no idea what to expect in Ecuador, I knew it was fairly well off comparatively as it is an attraction to retirees. I have to say that a long hard ride was the order of the day way up high into the mountains , but here was different. The vegetation was lush and the vista truly mindblowing in parts, I just wish I had had more time, obviously I am now going have to do the  return journey taking more time once I have achieved my goal.

 Getting into Quito seemed to take forever coming down into the city from way up high and actually travelling through the clouds.
 I can honestly say that the traffic in Quito is the worst so far in that it didn't seem to move. Of course I might be biased having taken three hours to find my pre-booked hotel after a ten hour ride. I went to bed that night with a huge sense of achievement having covered over 4000 kms.


QUITO

BOLIVIA, MARCH 2014

Not a lot to report from the road as I only rode about 250 miles. I arrived in Santa Cruz Bolivia in heavy rain and overnighted in a very very nice hotel, I guess ill gotten gains ( Not mine I hasten to add ) have to be spent somewhere.


 Travelling around I began to wonder at what stage money becomes clean. Given that Bolivia is not a rich country it seemed a little incongruous to see Mercedes, Porsche, Bmw and Ferrari agents side by side open for business. I am sure they are not there just in case . I guess business is business.


 My friends from Samaipata had arranged a taxi for me to bring me to collect my bike, unfortunately the rain was still hammering down. One of the charms of Bolivia is the road network and the abundance of unpaved roads. After my adventures in Patagonia I am very wary about venturing on wet unpaved roads and as my route included almost 100 miles of " Ripio " through the mountains I abandoned all hope of reaching Ecuador and decided that when it was dry I would base myself in Cochabamba and take things easy.



 Hotel in Samaipata was an eco hotel and having nothing to do but chill for a couple of days I learned to appreciate the quiet that goes with staying in an hotel 3000 mtres up in the Andies, and about  5 kms outside of the town. I didn't quite make it to the top of all the walls.

 It's amazing how comfortable somewhere can be made using basic materials and imagination

 

   Finally the day came to head for the hills and an easy 250 miles from Samaipata to Cochabamba. Set off in bright sunshine down to main road and waved goodbye to my new friend Maarten who had been looking after my bike for me, once again I had found kindness and good people to help me realize my dream. The first part of the road was good and the going was easy, I had had advice as to where to buy petrol so duly pulled in to fill up.

  I suppose the biggest difference between being in a country where rules are enforced to the point where we are no longer free and some of the less developed countries is that common sense sometimes prevails. I am finding that a friendly demeaner gets me a long way here in Bolivia and after being told initially that I was unable to buy petrol because I was on a foreign registered bike eventually I was able to buy at the local rate , this was after a committee meeting of the various layers of seniority in the middle of the forecourt.

 A smile and a friendly wave and we are once again on our ( my ) way. Even though I had been assured that the unpaved road was not much of a challenge I was still a little apprehensive as I got ever closer to the 80 miles of Ripio through the mountains.

  I started on the packed gravel quite warily but gradually gained confidence and got my speed above wobble and after a while I started to wonder what I had been worrying about. Apart from a section that was still a bit damp the road was quite good and my fingers gradually released from vicelike to normal, other body parts unclenched as well.

  The views were fantastic and looking back and seeing the road winding around the mountain was truly awesome, it is days like this that make it all worth while. I just wish I had taken more photographs. One thing is sure I have to come back here with a smaller bike. 

 Coming back onto the asphalt I headed across a plain, I don't know how high it was but it was freezing cold and it seems strange that everywhere is green, not at all as you would expect mountain tops to be. It was a hell of a buzz speeding across what seemed to be the top of the world. I didn't dwell on too many of the worlds problems as the ride was spellbinding. I am so glad I didn't wimp out and take the new paved route.

 A very enjoyable ride to Cochabamba on an excellent road. I don't know what I was expecting but Bolivia is surprising me. The cities are quite modern and although supposedly a poorer country it is way above African standards. The driving in the cities although not good is way more easy to contend with than the likes of Istanbul.





Bolivia Motorcycle Adventures

BUENOS AIRES TO SANTA CRUZ DE LA SIERRA, JAN 2014

18/1/2014 Buenos Aires to Esquina



 Bright and early to collect the bike from Dakar Motos.Nice bright weather saw me soaked in sweat waving goodbye to Sandra and Javier and on my way to Esquina for my first stop. No chance of rain and temperatures of 42ºc provided a different challenge to frostbite.

Posada Hambare

After a days rest in a beautiful setting, the jetlag was gone and I was back in travel mode.After dinner I asked to settle my bill so that I could be away bright and early the next day. No need señor, we are here bright and early in the morning.




20/1/2014 Esquina to Formosa




 I have been learning Spanish as I go along but I must have got the wrong meaning for bright and early. After an hour standing waiting for someone to check me out I was nice and mellow when they multiplied the number of dollars by the blue exchange rate to give me a 50% increase on the bill. Evidently my Spanish is not so bad as they realised I was a little upset and put matters right and I left in a cloud of dust muttering to myself for the next twenty miles.

  400 miles with nothing but the occasional friendly wave from Gouchos .One advantage of being geographically challenged was that not realising the size of Corrientes meant I hadn't worried about riding through in the midday rush hour.
    The hotel in Formosa was a resort with a Casino. Nothing Monte Carlo about this place,  I guess there are sad people everywhere. The hotel itself was nice but the food was awful.

21/1/2014, Formosa to Tartagal

Early start to beat the heat, luckily not so early that nobody was passing to help me pick the bike up. Climbing aboard an already started bike and not taking care about the gear change lever resulted in a " Suarez " roll , a bruised ego, ( lucky I was not at the main entrance to the hotel ), and a broken indicator. Duly chastened I was on my way for a 500 mile day.
 Being a public holiday Tartagal was like a ghost town but in the evening things got lively with everybody out and about in the relative cool of the evening. It was noticeable that the population was a lot less European in appearance and more indigenous, it was also noticeable that once out of the garden spots of Argentina the areas are a lot poorer looking.
 I was feeling excited at the prospect of entering Bolivia the next day.

Hotel Almuñecar

22/1/2014 Tartagal to Camiri




 Early start but already decidedly warm and by the time I reached the border it was getting nice and hot. Luckily the border formalities were an open air affair,  just nice when you are wearing full riding gear with the sun beating down.
 To describe the formalities as a shambles is perhaps going a bit far, but not much. We are back to the domain of the touts who really are not needed unless you want to jump the queues. No further comment.
 Once out of the chaos of the border the adventure begins.
  Stopping to top up my tank before reaching Camiri I discovered tourists pay about 3x the price of locals for fuel, also when I asked the girl pump attendant if the service station had wifi she seemed to find the idea very amusing,  yes, this was South America proper at last.
 Ever onward and into the town of Camiri trying to locate the hotel.Today was another holiday so the town was very quiet. My GPS was loaded with a free download which while excellent for Argentina and Chile was rather basic for Bolivia and I was looking for the hotel by its co-ordinates.  Without fail, each time I stopped to figure out the roads somebody went out of their way to ask where I was looking for. Amazing how you feel good about a place by simple acts of kindness.
 The JR Hotel was an example of why well run family hotels are better than five star chains. Comfortable, clean accommodation, give a sh.. factor very high, food simple and good and the owner friendly and interested in his guests,  all this and cheap.

23/1/2014 Camiri to Saimapata





 Early start, 250 miles to Saimapata to leave the bike and I need to get back to Santa Cruz ( 120 kms) where I had a hotel booked. Having been a bit reticent about visiting Bolivia the further I rode the gladder I became that I was here. The roads got more and more twisty and after the long straight drag through Argentina I started to remember why I enjoy being on my bike. Stopping to fill up I managed to get local rates, maybe it was because I bothered to try to chat with the local youths queueing with their plastic jerrycans or maybe just because the petrol pump attendant couldn't be bothered with the paperwork,anyway this is  definitely a friendly place up to now.
 Once off the main Santa Cruz highway and onto the old Cochabamba road to Saimapata there was a steady climb and the roads were similar to mountain roads all over the world with hairpins and plenty of good twisties, there were also plenty of potholes to keep you honest and your eyes open.
 I managed to find the most challenging route to where I was keeping the bike, it really is a little frightening when you stop to eye up the best line around a sharp hairpin and you start sliding backwards, buttock clenching is a description that seems apt.
 Any road up finally made it and the bike is stowed safe and sound ready for the next leg.
 Taxi to Santa Cruz 20 USD for 120 kms, I like this place more and more.


24/1/2014 Santa Cruz

 Santa Cruz is a fast growing city that is allegedly being financed by the export of  a local crop .I think I am honing in on something, it seems that no matter the culture or language, new found disposable income has to be spent on finery, cars and seeing and being seen out and about.We are all the same and aspire to the same things.
 It's strange to think that something that is seen by many as something evil can raise the standard of living of whole countries. No doubt there is a lot of concealed misery in illegal trading but it was not evident looking at Santa Cruz's finest who wouldn't have looked out of place on the boulevards of Paris , mind you, when you need a shoehorn to get into a taxi maybe not.

Santa Cruz was a very enjoyable couple of days at the end of a hard ride and I am looking forward to
the next leg.
  An interesting addition when leaving the country is one extra step in the process having to pass through a drug search of the hand baggage together with a quick questioning.

25/1/2014 Sao Paulo

 Big city of 17 million inhabitants. Number 1 thing to see is the produce market. You don't have to wait for Saturday night to dance and last but not least, if anybody is going for the world cup, the best advice I can offer from this brief visit is " Take plenty of money "

MUNICIPAL MARKET

MUNICIPAL MARKET

MUSIC AT THE MUNICIPAL MARKET
















COMING NEXT IN MARCH 2014

November 2013, PUNTA ARENAS TO BUENOS AIRES

Not a lot to say really. A long slog to get to Punta Arenas,  a bit of a scare that there was no fuel available in Southern Argentina and apart from battling the Patagonian wind not a lot to report.

August/September 2013 BUENOS AIRES TO USHUAIA

30/8/2013

 After 2 days in Buenos Aires recovering from the flight it was time for the off, picked up the bike from Dakar Motos and headed for Cordoba.Got a bit carried away and instead of taking a leasurely two day ride made it by about 8 at night and spent two very nice days there not doing very much at all.

1/9/2013

Cordoba to Rio Colorado

 Bright early start in beautiful weather.Hotel pre-booked in Rito Colorado just to give an added motivation to complete the 600 miles.

 Funny how the mind doesn't connect the obvious7/9/2013. Somehow I had thought Pampas Grass was something special  but having ridden through 600 miles of nothing but Pampas grass I concluded that in these parts it is not quite so exotic.Arrived just before dark with the weather changing from very nice to a bit miserable.

2/9/2013

Rio Colorado to Comodoro Rivadavia

Another 600 mile day ahead but the forecast looked good and whats life without a challenge? and is there any better feeling than a long road, a full tank and the sun on your back?

 The scale of the size of Agentina means that no opportunity to fill up can be missed especially with petrol stations 100 miles apart.This is a lesson quickly learned when riding the last 50 miles to a garage praying there is enough left in the tank.

 The weather started getting colder, wetter and windier. It is slightly disconcerting when riding through torrential rain with the visibility getting less and less and realising there is absolutely nowhere to shelter.By this far South there is nothing, absolutely nothing, not even a tree.Luckily when the sleet started it didn't stick and I was soon through to the other side.I was feeling really sorry for myself when I came across a local biker stopped by the side of the road, thinking he was in trouble I stopped to see if he needed help. Turned out he was just frozen almost stiff and soaked to the skin, at least I was dry so with a HiHo Silver I continued on my way eventually arriving at the hotel. I think it is fair to say that I had discovered a whole new level of coldness but it was nothing that lying half an hour in a hot bath couldn't fix, at least I had stopped shivering.

3/9/2013

Comodora Rivadavia to Rio Gallegas.

 To say the going is boring is an understatement, mile after mile of more or less straight road through frozen windy nothing, not even a tree. I was getting used to these 600 mile days but I was starting to get weary and broke my own rule and went straight to the hotel rather than filling the tank.
 I was busy congratulating myself on the good progress and decided I could definitely get back to Buenos Aires after a couple of nights in Ushuaia but in fact I had taken my foot off the pedal and in the warm glow of a nice meal had an early night in preparation for the triumphant cruise to the end of the world.

4/9/2013
Rio Gallegos to Cerro Sombrero

 Riding long hours provides the opportunity to come up with most of the answers to the worlds problems as I see them and leaves time to ponder on more mudane things perhaps a little more relevant to the task at hand. Today was to be the day when some of my wondering would be answered
  350 miles,2 borders to cross and a ferry was all for to day and as I set off feeling confident I ignored garages on the far side of the road waiting for one on my side, of course Murphy came into play and there was none on my side but the border was only 40 kms away and there would surely be a garage there. I don't know if I mentioned how remote these places are but riding out of the mist to find a queue waiting for the crossing to open it was evident there were no petrol pumps.My GPS showed showed fuel in 140 kms which was definitely outside my comfort zone but instead of retracing my steps I decided that an intrepid traveller doesn't turn back and after muddling through the border formalities I carried on to the ferry.Two things are forever etched into my brain from when I reached the Magellen Straights, the fuel warning light does in fact work as it came on some miles before and there was a further 39 kms to cover from where I was to the nearest filling station in Cerro Sombrero.

 The ferry is a simple affair and you ride on one side and off the other ( after the crossing obviously ). I was sitting berating myself for being so stupid when a Volkswagon Caravanette rolled onto the ferry, German registered belonging to Martin and Kathi who were on a world tour.My bacon was saved and I borrowed 5 litres of fuel which I would replace in Cerro Sombrero. All was well with my world and I sped off to cover the 39 kms to the garage.
 The garage was off the main route but easily found and after the filling up and replacing the fuel I bade farewell to Martin and Kathi and set off.I thought it a little strange when the GPS didn't direct me back to the road I had come off but thought this was a short cut back to the main road, it was. Unfortunately in my haste at celebrating victory the night before I hadn't cross checked the route between Mapquest and my GPS. Anyway after getting back to the main road I was directed to turn left which I duly did.After a few kms I stopped and recalculated the route, something was not right  as I seemed to be the only person on this road. The trusty GPS came up with the same route so I carried on with the road getting slowly worse and my progress getting slower and slower.
 To cut a long story short I found from practical experience that when you are lying sprawling in the mud it doesn't feel any better because nobody is around to see.I also discovered that even at my advanced age I can manage to pick the bike up alone, oh how I laughed when, shaking from the effort and leaning on the upright bike, I wondered how I was going to get back on it. 
 Your intrepid world traveller found a way and carried on into the fire. The going was slow to say the least and I proved beyond doubt that my bike is not the ideal model for offroad. Something else I hadn't realised was that mud can pack so as to make the bike unmoveable and yes, that smell was the clutch burning out.

 I had only been standing next to my broken bike for 30 mins when my fellow world travellers, Martin and Kathi came along but not wanting to delay them I refused help and went back to wondering what to do next.
 I waited a further two hours without seeing a soul and made a decision. I felt like a cowboy carrying his saddle from a dead horse as I slung my hold all over my shoulder and headed off tramping through the mud. 
 Luckily for me Martin and Kathi were not in a four wheel drive and had only got another couple of kms.I gratefully accepted a lift back to Cerro Sombrero and having checked into an hotel I headed to the Carabinieri who called a transport company.Before I went to bed the bike had been recovered.

5/9/2013
Cerro Sombrero to Punta Arenas

  The original plan (before I got carried away) was to store the bike in Punta Arenas and I had been armed with the address of a Garage,probably the only place within a thousand miles that would be able to sort out my problems, so it was to Alejandro Lago's workshop I headed in a pick-up with the broken bike on the back.One sight of his immaculate workshop was enough to know that I was in good hands.
 In some ways this area is remote beyond belief but I didn't stay in one hotel that didn't have free wifi so had been able to pre-book hotels all the way.The one in Punta Arenas was small, reasonable but excellent with nice room and very friendly staff.

6/9/2013
 Went to see my bike which was by now spotless, sorted things with Alejandro and spent the rest of the day wandering about and figuring out how to get back to BsAs, or rather biting the bullet and booking the ticket for the 12 hour bus ride to Ushuaia to catch a flight to BsAs.

7/9/2013
 Bright and early at the bus station carrying my butties and water for the ride dreading the prospect of the next 12 hours.
 As things turned out it was not nearly as bad as i had feared, even the joys of four hours on a collectivo eventually passed.So every cloud has a silver lining, If I had not taken the wrong turn I would still be wondering if I could lift the bike unaided, what would happen if I broke down in the middle of nowhere and I would still be ignorant about travelling to the end of the world by bus.Of course I am now left with a 4 day journey back to my bike but at least the weather will be better.



                      COMING NEXT IN NOV. 2013