Canada to the Cabo: The Americas 2011

The trip in numbers

2012-01-02T11:21:00.001-08:00

22 856: total kms (Sam)

408: average kms per riding day (Sam)

38.7: avg km/h overall speed (during the "riding day")

62.4: avg km/h moving speed

2430: kms of dirt road (est)

1347: number of speed bumps (est)

15: countries visited

62: days on the road (to Punta Arenas)

56: riding days

6: days of riding in the rain (only)

154: points scored by Sam's feet to win the belt

7: number of collective flat tires

2: future trips discussed, with intent

5: number of minutes it took Peter to pop the cork from the champagne at New Year's

3: number of bikes sold in Punta Arenas

Day 62: Final destination (421 kms)

2012-01-01T14:36:00.001-08:00

The final border crossing of the trip was ludicrous. We waited in a line of hundreds while a single Chilean immigration official stamped passports. Three and a half hours later we entered Chile, re-crossed the Magellan Straight and headed for Punta Arenas. We ate supper and watched the U de Chile soccer team play and win a big match. People poured out into the streets to celebrate.

As of this evening the riding is finished, and the trip feels complete. There is a feeling of satisfaction, and anticipation to return home. We'll have New Year's here and maybe poke around town a little, but the main focus will be ensuring the bikes are properly taken care of before we leave the continent.

What a trip!

Day 61: North, for once (278 kms)

2012-01-01T14:34:00.001-08:00

I did a nice hike in the morning up to the top of one of the peaks in the Tierra del Fuego national park. It took much longer than I was expecting, about five hours. Having not eaten prior, I was famished after climbing down.

And then it was time to head north. This was the first backtracking in two months of riding. After passing through the Garibaldi pass for a second time we ran into a huge wind. Slowing to 75 kph it felt like standing still, at a 45 degree angle.

I was relieved to reach the town of Rio Grande until the traffic nearly swallowed us. A motorist deliberately backed up into Nathan and his bike. The police were involved but all turned out fine.

That evening we returned to the same campsite as two nights previous, on the beach just north of Rio Grande.

Day 60: Ushuaia (263 kms)

2012-01-01T14:32:00.001-08:00

It's not a race but 60 days to Ushuaia seems pretty fast. Peter did it in a little more than 40, with four months off in the middle! Maybe we'll do a really fast and long ride sometime. For this trip,
I was pleased with the balance of hard riding, siteseeing and down time on this trip.

The town of Ushuaia is undeniably scenic and packed with tourists enjoying the end of the world or preparing to head to Antarctica.

I was able to walk around town and get some of the postcard shots and do the last of my Xmas shopping.

Our campsite was out in the busy national park just outside town. There was a mix of locals and travellers enjoying the beauty of the place: fishing, hiking, swimming, playing and eating. It also contains the symbolic end of the road, although there are certainly roads further south in Chile, just not easily reached.

Day 59: Boxing day, boxes and borders (373 kms)

2012-01-01T14:29:00.001-08:00

This was the day we made it to Tierra del Fuego! Chile and Argentina share the island so we entered and then left Chile over the course of the afternoon. Leaving the town of Rio Gallegos the wind was picking up, after a day or so of relative calm. The windiest city in the world keeps the flag makers in the money.

Despite being in Chile for less than three hours, there were no shortcuts at the border. There is some integration between Chilean and Argentine borders, but it seems only to extend to shared accommodations for the officials.

After a brief ferry across the Straight of Magellan we arrived on TdF. The road turned to dirt and ran for the 110kms to the border. This would be, counting the return trip, the last dirt of the trip. It was a costly stretch for me; my newly purchased luggage box broke loose and disintegrated in impact
With the road. Some Germans in overland campers were close by and saw the incident. One kindly offered me rachet straps, but I had my own. The other muttered loudly enough for Peter to hear that I should learn a lesson for not buying German-made equipment; sadly Hepco-Becker is a German outfit, and one that will never see another penny of my cash.

Day 58: Navidad (0 kms)

2012-01-01T09:49:00.001-08:00

Christmas day was a low key affair, but we had a tree. After a morning gift exchange in which Nathan received what I think of as the man's trifecta (pocket knife, pen, wallet) we spent the day hanging out, eating, sleeping, calling home and watching movies. It was Peter's first Christmas away from his childhood home, a place I know from experience is filled with warmth, love and good food. The thing is it is never gets easy being away from family and loved ones at this time of year.

Days 56 & 57: Perito Moreno Glacier (213 & 287 kms)

2011-12-31T13:13:00.001-08:00

Visiting the Perito Moreno glacier was a highlight of the trip for me. It's the kind of tourist site that is heavily visited for completely understandable reasons. We spent a couple hours in the park following the pathways and then jumped the fence to bat a few rocks into the lake.

The town of Calafate was loaded with tourists, high season had begun. The place where we were staying even had a sign boldly explaining that its prices had risen for this reason. We still had a great dinner of asado, roasted lamb.

That night we camped near the outflow from Lake Argentina, Rio Santa Cruz. The drive into the town of Rio Gallegos, the self-proclaimed windiest town in the world was uneventful.

Day 55: Earning it on Ruta 40 (353 kms)

2011-12-31T12:54:00.001-08:00

After getting a patch on my tire, we left town around 10:30. We crossed the 49th parallel at the scenic Lago Cardiel with snowcaps and turquoise waters.

Ruta 40 is being paved in an ambitious project, and we were hoping that we might be able to ride more asphalt than was indicated on the maps. In two years or so there won't be much dirt left on 40 in the south. This year there was more than enough to go around. In some ways the presence of the construction may have complicated matters: often the road was a rough temporary track to allow continued circulation while they worked to build up, grade and pave the main road; I also suspect that investment in maintenance may have declined given the imminent arrival of the asphalt road. In some spots we were able to ride on the new roadway and did so even though there were berms to prevent entry; Peter got temporarily stuck making one such entry.

About 100 kms north of Calafate we came to Lago Viedma with the view of Cerro Torre and Cerro Perito Moreno. Stunning.

Days 53 & 54: Ruta 40 through the Pampa (561 & 659 kms)

2011-12-31T12:46:00.001-08:00

There was a miscalculation of mileage in the plan, so we opted to ride further and earn an extra day off at Christmas. This made for two long days of riding in western Argentina with a final destination of Gobernador Gregores.

The first day of riding we saw some other overlanders. First, some Germans on rented bikes heading south. We rode with them for a while but to our collective relief they pulled into a service station relatively quickly; they were unsafe riders.

Later that day we were passed by a steady stream of vintage Volvos heading north. I spoke to one of the drivers and discovered that all one hundred or so vehicles were Dutch and doing a two-month journey around SA. Nice!

Late in the day we encountered the first of the strong winds. Some riders rigged up ballast systems to keep the bike level.

We found a decent spot to camp on the pampa once the estancia fencing opened up. Nathan and I both found skulls of camelids. Mine became a kind of totem until it was confiscated by the Chilean customs.

The second day, which comprised some of the most difficult riding of the trip, with the dirt, gravel, wind and persistent construction of Ruta 40, ended later than anticipated. We also passed through a wicked little hail storm and I stopped to take a photo of the bike with some of the accumulation.

The delay was my first flat of the trip Eventually we made it to the town and had a kind of mini-celebration dinner of ravioli and vino tinto. More gravel awaited us the next day, before a day off in El Calafate.

Day 52: Southern Andes (372 kms)

2011-12-27T05:42:00.001-08:00

This was my second favourite day of riding in the entire trip. We left out camp at Licàn Ray on Lake Calafquèn around 8am, passed a dramatic snowcapped AND smoking volcano in Chile's Villarrica national park, and, once on the gravel road that would return us to Argentina, stopped for breakfast at a hotsprings. Nathan and Peter found the eucalyptus sauna boxes to enjoy (mandatory viewing video to follow).

Back on the road, the riding grew more technical as the track narrowed and climbed. A truck was down in a creek below a bridge after misjudging the turn. We exited Chile at a tiny border station that also served as the frontier to the Lanín national park. Some excellent riding passed lakes, rivers and lava fields. The border station into Argentina was even more casual; we interrupted the single young officer who was wearing pyjamas and cooking his pancake breakfast.

After a short delay for a flat on Peter's bike we stopped for lunch in the town of San Martín de los Andes. Great pizza!

It was early evening by the time we headed south on La Ruta de los Siete Lagos, a route recommended by Uncle Harry, to Bariloche. The road did not disappoint: mostly it was tar, but there was a 30 km section of gravel that was ready for paving. In that area, there was still several inches of volcanic ash on the ground; it covered the vegetation, road and buildings in a thick crust and the air contained noticeably more particulate.

Riding south along the eastern shore of Lake Nahuel Huapi to Bariloche was almost like being transported back to coastal BC.

Day 51: South, faster (822 kms)

2011-12-25T15:44:00.001-08:00

Every motorcycle trip I've been on has one. A day to make miles. There was no time for photos.

We rode due south on highway 5. It was a fine, simple and efficient ride on an interstate quality highway.

Based on how the day started I wondered if we might spend the night near Santiago. The one repair Nathan was not able to complete yesterday was changing his chain. But he met a couple of riders who offered to help first thing in the morning. The one guy, Nico, owned a pizza joint in a southern suburb just off the highway. He was an Italian emigre in his 50s. The other,
Davide, was an Italian national who was riding solo around the world, sponsored by Yamaha, in his early 30s and was billeting with Nico for a few days. We turned up at the gate at 8:15am and my first impression is that we'd woken them up and Nico had completely forgotten about his promise to help.

Maybe I was wrong, since he jumped right into the task and didn't really look back. Nathan commented later that he was exactly opposite to the kind of mechanic that instilled confidence. Within seconds Nico had cut the old chain off with a disc sander. So far, so good. Then he lined up the new chain, eyeballed the length and removed a link. Still too long. Two more links sliced. Too short. Fortunately there was a spare link. Unfortunately it didn't fit. He tried another spare link. Didn't work either.

At this point I had to avert my eyes. There were parts strewn everywhere on the ground, Nico was still cutting with his sander and Nathan was pale in the face.

The problem was solved when Nico cut a basically new chain off another bike parked in his lot and fitted that to the KLR. Just in the nick of time too, because all his riding buddies starting showing up for their Sunday ride. This week was special because of Davide's presence, and these old dudes were primed to show they could still ride.

Davide was a dude, the other guys were putzes. I didn't want to ride with them at all. They were all over the road, crunched up together and popping wheelies for no reason. Nico was the worst of all. After about 20 mins of riding with them, we just got off and started the long ride south.

Day 50: Santiago

2011-12-25T14:50:00.001-08:00

Notionally a day off, we still did a lot of running around. We all had repairs to do: Nathan tires, chain and welding; Peter tires and brakes; me luggage and some loose nuts and bolts.

My left luggage box had been damaged when I hit a big pothole in Bolivia. In truth, the box itself was limp from the 2008 Africa trip. I should have replaced it before the trip. It never fit the frame snuggly. It was replaced. I was sad to lose all those stickers so this photo is a nice memento.

In the evening I met up with Alejandra, a friend from business school. She took me to a rooftop dance party at her friend's apartment. The best way to get to know about a country truly is by seeing and speaking with locals in their own spaces.

Day 49: Ruta Siete to Santiago (425 kms)

2011-12-25T14:20:00.001-08:00

A late start, but a beautiful ride on the principal road connecting Argentina and Chile across the Andes. We bade Andrew farewell and joined national highway #7. The road rose gradually from Mendoza, passed under the continental divide and international frontier through a tunnel, and dropped precipitously in tight switchbacks into Chile.

Before crossing we passed to the south of Aconcagua which at just shy of 7000 meters is the tallest peak in the western hemisphere. There was a partial view from the park gate.

On leaving Argentina there is a prominent road sign standing testament to the continued national irritation over the Falklands Islands. And then we were in Chile; the final country (although not border crossing) of the trip!

The most dramatic moment of the day was an altercation I had with another motorist at a gas station. He was trying to go the wrong way through the filling bay (queues at station are ubiquitous and managed by single direction traffic). When I wouldn't yield ground he actually hit my bike - while I was riding it - with his car. The contact was not violent but still there is nothing quite so unnerving as being on a bike and having a car attempt to muscle you off the road. It's intolerable. I returned contact. The car had Chilean plates and apparently he held a grudge all the way to the border; a particularly busybody policeman there asked me "Why hit car Chile?" Indeed. Peter duly noted the addition of this question to the pantheon of Great Unanswered Philosophical Questions.

Day 48: Mendoza (277 kms)

2011-12-25T11:07:00.001-08:00

On the short ride into Mendoza, 50% of the vehicles ran out of gas, Nathan and Andrew simultaneously. The problem was quickly solved and we were checked into a hostel in Mendoza, floating in the pool and refreshed by 2pm. We met a number of other travellers during what was a late night of a short stay, some who would gladly have joined us for the remainder of journey to Ushuaia.

Days 46 & 47: Northern Argentina (644 kms and 679kms)

2011-12-25T08:47:00.001-08:00

The dirt roads in Bolivia daunted us a little. We changed our schedule in two ways. First, we kept to asphalt roads in northern Argentina and second we set out to arrive in Santiago a couple of days earlier than schedule. A lot of folks take five or six months to do the kind of trip we're doing in two. Consequently, we don't have a lot of spare time for repairs or delays. Since we'd left La Paz the days had just felt full, long and as though one thing after another was going wrong. We needed to get back some flex time in case anything else went wrong. Something is bound to happen.

The solution was two long days through Argentina's north towards Mendoza. On the first day, Nathan had tourista. He didn't eat much at all, took a break at mid-day, but managed to stay on the bike all day long. Impressive.

On the first night we stayed in the town of Rio Hondo, and Andrew and I checked out one of the many hotsprings in the evening. The town feels a little like an Argentine Myrtle Beach. Our accommodation was an entirely forgettable hotel, except for the extent to which the breakfast was terrible. Crackers and jam, with weak coffee. It has become a joke to see if any subsequent breakfast could match the level of bleakness.

Day 45: Southern Bolivia and into Argentina (292 kms)

2011-12-25T08:31:00.001-08:00

Patching Peter's tire took took a few hours this morning. But once we got on the road, the riding was great. The road was still dirt, but better than the sand, stone and washboard hell connecting Uyuni with Huari and Atocha.

After lunch we were back on asphalt making the trip to the border uneventful. Once there, my rule of border crossings was again proven, at the very final step: Argentine customs. The weather was threatening as we rolled into the border town. There was a violent electrical storm about 50 kms southwest. As the officer was entering my info into the system, the power flickered. All info lost. He rebooted. Five minutes later, same thing. And then again. This man was a one-finger typer, and he could barely reboot his computer. At each juncture he called a junior officer to set him up again. It was excruciating. By the third failure, he packed his bag and headed home. I couldn't blame him. I thought we'd be stuck there for the night, but another officer finally completed the process for Andrew and me, and we could leave.

We got back on the road, planning to head another 100 kms. At first the riding was beautiful: windy, stormy and scenic in the high plains. Then night fell. Then we entered into the hardest rain I've ever seen. I was in lead, and my visibility fell to about 15 feet. Hard even to find shelter. I thought about a tree, but rejected it as not substantial enough. Then we came to a deserted bus terminal, perfect. Another car was already there taking refuge too.

The rain continued. At first the terminal seemed to be an adequate spot to overnight. Nathan found the electrical breakers and some interior rooms. Not quite cosy, but dry and safe.

But the rain continued. Soon the level of the water was up above the bikes' rims, and then nearly to the axles! We brought the bikes up to the platform, but the water kept rising. The primary platform was breached within 45mins. Once the secondary platform was also damp, the choice was made for us: we had to leave. There was a little debate, which I filmed while the level steadily rose, but we all knew there was only one option.

I went first and a little too quickly: water was forced up an over my headlight and came splashing under the windscreen into the cockpit. At its deepest there was likely just over two feet of water. We all made it through and were rewarded by a warm, dry hotel with Argentine steak for dinner.

Day 44: Crossing the Salar de Uyuni (413 kms)

2011-12-25T07:54:00.001-08:00

Peter has already described this epic day of riding in detail, so I won't duplicate his report except to confirm that it was a long, difficult ride. And it was entirely worth it.

Some photos (not chronological for some reason due to the Blogger app):

1. A hole in the Salar with water beneath. Salt fishing?

2. The four bikes on the Salar. Video will follow. There is a reason they break land speed records on salt flats.

3. Nathan's bike and my bike on the very rough road leading out to the Salar. At this point, somewhere back up the road, Peter was wrestling with the first flat of the day.

4. The road to Atocha after dark. Deep sand in parts made it tough going. This was something we'd fought all day. But we all emerged with only a small collective number of drop bikes and no injuries or major mechanical problems.

5. Washing the salt off the bikes. Absolutely essential.

Day 44: Camping on Lake Poopo (342 kms)

2011-12-25T07:47:00.001-08:00

My brakes took longer to fix than expected so we didn't leave town until almost noon. That allowed time for much needed sleep-in for the nighthawks in the party.

Andrew was now part of our little group and riding his slickly kitted BMW F800GS. Terrific machine.

Bolivia has a generous petrol subsidy. Combined with the cut rate prices from Venezuela, the final price is about $0.50 a liter. But that price is only available to Bolivian plated vehicles since the government has no desire to subsidize non-residents. There is a higher price that filling stations are meant to charge foreign vehicles. However, stations often do not have the paperwork to complete this transaction or are fearful of being shut down for manipulating the sale price and pocketing the difference. We found that most stations were hesitant to sell us gas. It was a real drag. Andrew had Bolivian plates, which was helpful, but not entirely sufficient.

Late in the day we spent nearly two hours trying to procure gas. By that time it was too late for riding, particularly since the asphalt road ended. The town nearby, Huari, is deservedly famous for its beer, but not its hotels. We decided to camp near the dry Lago Poopo. In the end we found a nice spot near a deserted llama pen. There was an amazing electrical storm visible across the lake, likely 60 or 70 kilometers away.

Day 43: Reaching La Paz (132 kms)

2011-12-25T07:32:00.001-08:00

After clearing Bolivian immigration, we started the chilly ride into La Paz. I was following Nathan and my brakes were feeling soft. We rode quickly on the flat, open, traffic-free highway. His tail light was obscured with our small bag of trash from the previous night's dinner. That combination led me to hit a bumpy rail crossing much harder than intended. Bit of a scare.

We reached El Alto outside La Paz around 11:30. It took another hour to fight 20kms across the entire city to the southern barrios. During that time we descended ~800 meters in elevation. Coming around a corner and seeing the entire city spread out is a dramatic sight.

Andrew had set us up in his home and with the local bike shop. I had my tire changed and brakes fixed, and Nathan did a variety of repairs too. Nathan and Peter made the most of the nightlife.

Day 42: Heading for La Paz (635 kms)

2011-12-25T05:23:00.001-08:00

We were behind a day because of my battery trouble, so we set out to ride all the way to La Paz, take a day off for repairs and then continue south towards Argentina with my friend and former colleague Andrew Scyner. We would have made it except for three delays.

First, my battery acted up again. The solution was simple: the connection to the negative post was loose, but it took some time for the electrical system to come back online. During the break we had lunch at a fancy but completely deserted hotel on the shore of Lake Titicaca. High season has not yet begun, but this place was seriously overbuilt.

Continuing southeast along the lakeshore, Peter was nearly run off the road by a car with two thrill seeking Peruvian teens. We stopped to enjoy the lake with its backdrop of Bolivian snowcapped peaks. I regretted not being able to camp there, however this desire would be fulfilled.

We turned up at the Peruvian border station in the town of Desaguadero, just as night was falling. Unusually the town on the Bolivian side shared the same name and, in fact the twins seemed to function as a single town. And it was a rotten place.

Peter's bike had overstayed its welcome; the second delay. The customs agent's computer did not like this fact, and froze. Peter will want to tell this story, but suffice it to say that a "practical" accommodation was arrived at. Peru extended a "thanks for you visit" and we crossed just as the border station was closing for the night.

Then the third delay: the Bolivian side was closed, both the immigration and customs. We were in the country, but had no permission to be there and had no desire to stay in rotten Desaguadero.

A kind customs officer took some pity on us and completed the paperwork for the bikes. He had already worked a full day, and did this on his personal time. Nor was he looking for a bribe, although I do think he asked one of us halfheartedly if we'd brought anything from Canada.

We made camp on the lakeshore just around a point, and out of sight of the town.

Day 41: Machu Picchu (0 kms)

2011-12-25T04:00:00.001-08:00

We visited the famous lost city of the Incas. It's no wonder why so many people - up to 2500 a day - make the relatively complicated multi day journey to the site: it is an impressive structure in a stunning setting. And there are so few others mountain top settlements with equal grandeur: few if any other civilizations possessed the cheap manpower, discipline, ambition and impractical preferences to build so far away from typical means of transport, easy agricultural lands and a predictably flowing water source.

We explored the site (Peter found an Incan mummy down in the crypt!), took a nap at a resting place and made up all nature of challenges the Inca likely faced, particularly battles with their fiercest enemy, the Maya. Nathan largely failed to see the site since his nose was buried in the guidebook; I'm sure Peter will post the photo series at some point.

The Salar and Archer's Post

2011-12-12T06:28:00.000-08:00

The Salar and Archer's Post

Somedays capture all the elements of long travel on a bike. Yesterday was one of those days. We woke up to a brilliant sunrise across the dried lake bed we camped on the night before. We'd set up shelter behind the adobe walls of an abandoned farm. The lake had been dry for sometime, apparently.

We made an early start, as we knew we had a tough ride to get to the top of the Salar de Uyuni, the massive salt lake in the south east of Bolivia. The ride was harder than expected, as it amounted to either deep washboard or deep sand. As the road was under construction, it also had several unpredictable drops and ledges. I almost lost control rather seriously on two occasions, but managed to stay upright. Sam cratered in a large hole, and despite having to rearrange some luggage, kept everything in check. It was similarly good riding from Nathan and andrew. Along the way. A small leak in my tire became a serious one, so I had to repair it before reaching the Salar.

After five hours to travel 150 kms, we reached the lake. There, we rode as fast as we wanted, wherever we wanted. I suppose it's not much like the moon, but it certainly felt like it. It was about a 120 km ride to Uyuni, where we took some lunch and found a place to wash the bikes.

While we were waiting for the Iunch to arrive, fellow ran in and told me someone had knocked over my bike with their car. I ran out to the bike, which had only minor damage (these stroms are tough), and got on to give chase. Everyone around was pointing out the direction of the car and giving descriptions. Sam joined in. We couldn't find the chap. To be honest, I am not sure what I would have done had I found him, much like the puzzled dog that finally catches a car. But I did daydream about it on our ride out.

Until I got another flat. And then another. We were riding perhaps the roughest gravel road I've ever been on. When it wasnt washboard, it was deep sand, as a result of the frequent sandstorms. So, by the time we got going on a repaired tire, it was dark. We rode 50 kms in the pitched black, eventually descending 600 meters into a nice mining town. We've spent the morning here getting my tire fixed, and are soon to depart for the argentine border.

It was, I must say, the hardest day of riding I've had since the time I blew out my back suspension in northern Kenya, and had to ride 70kms in the sand to Archer's Post. Sam and I made that ride, and we remind ourselves of it in the dark last night. We'll reference this one too for years to come.

Sent from my iPad

Day 40: Into the Sacred Valley of the Incas (249 kms)

2011-12-07T18:08:00.001-08:00

We left Abancay in a steady morning rain and climbed steeply out of its valley. At the pass we crested 4000 meters and there was slush in the ditch.

Arriving in Ollantaytambo just after noon we found a hostel, stashed the bikes and went to the train station. We rolled right on the train and were in the town of Aguas Calientes eating at one of its innumerable pizza joints by 4pm. It's a funny town, but in the spectacular setting of the deep Urubamba river valley. I caught a glimpse of the moon rising and some children playing ball in a school yard. Peter's analogy was best: it's like a ski resort town. Hard to complain about it being overrun with tourists if tourism is nearly its sole purpose.

We bought tickets for tomorrow's visit to Machu Picchu soaked at the hotsprings, negotiated for free pisco sours and called it a night.

Day 39: A half day to Abancay (319 kms)

2011-12-07T18:07:00.001-08:00

The plan was to ride the 500kms plus to Ollantaytambo, take the train to Aguas Calientes and see Machu Picchu tomorrow. Things went awry. Notably with my bike.

The ride started perfectly. We rose again to the Pampas and made great time: 250 kms by the time we stopped for breakfast. I snapped a shot of our three machines in a line; all the colors of the citrus rainbow.

Upon leaving the restaurant, my bike started to behave badly. The throttle would die at high revs. And then it got worse. It started to stall every 200 meters. Several theories were postulated. The simple: water in the gas or bad gas. The complicated: fuel injector issues. I limped along and finally made it to the town of Abancay. We tried fuel stabilizer. I re-checked the air filter. We dumped the gas and started over. Same symptoms.

At this point the day was quickly dwindling. We finally ended up at mechanic called Marcos. Just as I pulled in my battery died. The cause was from repeatedly starting the engine after the stalls. We tried to explain the root problem and symptoms, but Marcos was focused solely on the battery. That was a little frustrating, because it seemed like a distraction. But once he got the battery out, it had no acid. Then he confirmed that the battery couldn't hold a charge. In the event, the battery was itself the source of the problem. Basically since it could not take the charge, the main computer was put under severe stress trying to manage the electrical system. Its instinct was simply to shut down.

The delay was frustrating and a setback. Particularly during those hours when we couldn't diagnose the problem, uncertainty about the trip crept in. Through the period the guys were great: very patient and helpful.

We rearranged our schedule to compress the trip from the Sacred Valley to Bolivia. No big deal.

Day 38: Stung in Paracas and drawing a line to the Pampas (369 kms)

2011-12-07T17:38:00.001-08:00

If we were staying at a beach house and soon leaving the coast for the Andes, I was going to take advantage of one last swim. I couldn't find the guys or Alfredo so I just went for it. Even wading out, I could see that the water was heavily populated with living things. I saw fish, a small ray and huge jellyfish. The water was chilly and after a shallow dive and a short front crawl I put down my feet to get my bearings. Immediately there was a sharp jolt of pain in my foot. I limped up the beach, bleeding a little from a clean cut on the sole of my foot just above the little toe. Instead of subsiding the pain was spreading, filling my foot and running up my inner thigh towards my groin. What was this thing and was I going to die?!

I hobbled back to the house and found the guys. Alfredo couldn't be found but one of his staff knew exactly what to do. His immediate understanding of the situation and blasé reaction calmed me. Eventually we understood that I'd stepped directly on a stingray.

The next step was painful. It involved soaking my foot in nearly boiling water and then sucking out the venom with "The Extractor".

Afterwards, Alfredo's staff killed two stingrays with a spear to make me feel better. They all told stories about how many times this had happened to them and I did feel better.

After a quick breakfast, Alfredo took us for a tour in his boat (his "launch"). We saw and startled into flight a flock of pink flamingos. Then we came across some boats harvesting scallops: divers on the floor below would simply gather them in bags which would be hauled up to the surface.

We said our goodbyes and thank yous to Alfredo and company, and shot out for Nazca. A short while later Nathan's muffler fell off. Bumpy roads in the Cordillera Blanca? He fixed it quickly with some nuts and bolts purchased from a gas station.

Only three of the many "Nazca Lines" are visible from the roadside mirador, but it was still fascinating to see these monumental sized drawings in the desert only visible from the sky or to the gods.

After the heat of Nazca, we climbed 3500 meters into less than 100kms to the Peruvian Pampas. Perfect camping terrain.

Day 37: A beach house at Paracas (267kms)

2011-12-07T17:34:00.001-08:00

We left Lima around 1pm. During the morning we turned the front lot and entrance of our small hotel into a motorcycle workshop. They were happy to see us depart.

We rode along the Costa Verde road out of Lima and then joined the Panamericana without incident. We stopped for a late lunch on the beach just beyond the southern outskirts of the city.

After another two hours on the highway, I noticed that the Panamericana left the coast just up ahead near the famous town of Pisco. Since we were planning to camp in the desert and as it was late in the day, I thought we should stop to consult on procuring food and how to find a camp site. Just as I was slowing and pulling over I saw three motocross riders coming up on a trail just off the highway. I dismounted and went over to the lead rider, Alfredo. Within instants he had invited us to stay at his beach house 60 minutes further on down the coast. After Nathan confirmed my understanding of the conversation, we accepted eagerly.

The place was amazing: we each had our own bunk room adjacent to the pool. Mine was reserved for caballeros only. Alfredo had several businesses including a pisco distillery, a fish meal factory and mandarin orchards; how's that for the archetype of a Peruvian businessman?!

Day 36: Lima (72 kms)

2011-12-07T17:32:00.001-08:00

This was neither a day off in the sense that we stayed off the bikes or in that we rested. The turnaround in Lima was always bound to be tight. I made a "to do" list that would have taken me two days in Ottawa to complete. And Peter needed to get his bike from storage and return it to travel ready status. In the event we spent the morning getting organized and the afternoon running around. By the time we liberated Peter's bike it was late afternoon. By the time we realized the battery on his bike was dead, it was early evening. By the time we replace the battery with a platoon of helpful men from the neighborhood, night had fallen. We pushed back departure until the following afternoon. I still managed to meet a friend for dinner and indulged in more excellent seafood.

Day 35: to Lima and Peter's arrival (565 kms)

2011-12-07T17:05:00.001-08:00

A serious ride lay ahead if we wanted to reach Lima before dark. We were on the road at 6am. It was raining by 6:15. As we climbed higher out of the valley where San Luis lay, it grew colder and colder. And then sure enough, around 4200 meters the rain turned to snow. It even started to accumulate on the stones and grass. We stopped for a photo, but riding in the snow is only fun for 2 minutes and then you're just cold. With more dirt single track, our progress was very slow; by breakfast at 9:30 time we had only covered 70 kms. Fortunately by then we were back in the tar.

The rest of the ride was more of the same: spectacular. We reached the outskirts of Lima just before dusk, and then spent an hour stuck in traffic. I finally collected Peter at the airport around midnight. The next phase of the trip started with his observation: "just flying into Lima where my friend will pick me up and we'll ride for a month. No big deal."

Day 34: la Cordillera Blanca (255 kms)

2011-12-07T17:04:00.001-08:00

The passing buses awakened us at dawn. But once we were on the road the traffic was light. The road followed the Rio Santa, and began to climb steeply along the river canyon. At some times it was a dead drop to the river below, at others there was no option but to go through a piece of mountain; the 90 kms of road contained something like 30 tunnels.

We stopped to find some breakfast in a small cluster of roadside houses and shops. They couldn't even muster a coffee. We were reduced to mixing Nathan's instant coffee with ambient temperature water. Not ideal, but it worked.

Were it not for the hydro installation operated by Duke Energy I wonder if the road would even have existed. All those tunnels required some serious investment. And still it was nothing more than a rough dirt, rock and sand single track. The settlement at the hydro station was well kept but didn't offer services to outsiders.

Once we crossed the first layer of the Andes, the river veered south and the road followed and became tar. We stopped for an early lunch at an overbuilt restaurant with an island dining room in the middle of a pond with the glacial pyramidal peaks of the cordillera as a backdrop. I forewent the bridge and took my seat by pontoon boat.

After lunch we turned east again and began to climb sharply. The road to remote and scenic San Luis crossed the Cordillera at 4900 meters. The signature dual self-portrait of the day had me holding nine fingers and Nathan four. Unfortunately we reversed the order and it seemed as though we were impossibly at 9400 meters. Perhaps it was the thin air.

This road was under extensive construction. There seemed to be workers lining the whole route. Mostly they waved, sometimes they whistled (Nathan said he never wanted another Peruvian man to whistle at him) but occasionally they would pretend to charge our passing bikes.

On the descent the switchbacks were so tight there was a risk of entanglement.

Overall, one of the best days of riding I've ever had.

The Navigators

2011-12-07T16:45:00.000-08:00

As a general rule, houses with names are nicer than houses without names. There are exceptions, of course, like houses at my undergrad university. There, if a house had a name, there was little doubt it was a great place to visit and a less pleasant place to live.

But to the point: Alfredo's house, "The Navigators", is a very nice house. It's on the ocean, with white walls, and floor to ceiling windows. There's a pool and a basketball court. Sam and Nathan and I each had our own rooms, named the Buccaneers, the Corsairs, and Pirates, respectively.

***

We left Lima on Saturday, after one, after spending a morning on routine maintenance. On Friday, we had done a good bit of running round, locating small parts Nathan needed for his bike and various lubricants. There are some impressive bike shops in Lima, but none which are stocked like a good store at home. What's more, the all have a rather convoluted payment system. After this, we went to the home where my bike had been stored since the summer. We found it there, but with a flat rear tire and a dead battery. I have a slow leak from a nail, which has been in the tire since Columbia, at least. And somewhere in my electrical system is a small parasite.

I shall spare the details of our efforts at repair, except to note that we spent four hours on a sidewalk aided by a community security guard, a fish chef, and two other folks. The chef eventually transported Nathan to a store to buy me a new battery, which still required several push starts, but is now fine.

So, by Saturday afternoon we were out of the city and dodging other cars down the Pan-American. We stopped mid afternoon for ceviche by the ocean, and them headed south another 150 kms. When the PA started to veer away from the ocean, Sam pulled over so we could consult on how much farther we wanted to go, and whether we wanted to stay on the beach. At that point, three motocross riders came up from the shore. It was an impressive scene. We soon struck up a conversation with Alfredo, who told us about his house by the beach in Paracas. No sooner than this did he invite us to spend the evening at his house, The Navigators.

The kindness of strangers is never in short supply on these trips. This was no exception. Alfredo plied us - if ever the word was right it's right here - with the pisco that he makes and sells. It's something like his fifth or sixth biggest business. He was obviously well off, but had no airs about him. And if he was perhaps a bit lonely, he was certainly very proud of his country and happy to tell us about it. He was keen to see us happy. He was equally happy to take us for a ride in his boat the next morning, where we saw all manner of birds, except the penguins which were apparently about. And, most amusingly, he was in very good spirits when Sam was stung by a stingray and his servant set to extracting the venom with a suction device.

We left the navigators and Alfredo in very good spirits, and settled in for a great day of mountain riding and camping in a pasture. It was a place without a name, but still quite nice.

Sent from my iPad

Day 33: Chan Chan and finding the Rio Santa (423 kms)

2011-12-06T17:31:00.001-08:00

We realized this morning that we actually had a lot of time in which to reach Lima for our Dec 1 rendezvous with Peter. So we decided to push on and take a detour through the Andean Cordillera Blanca.

First we passed the sprawling ruins of Chan Chan and pyramids at las Huacas del Sol y de la Luna near Trujillo.

We stopped for lunch - more ceviche for me - and got our first real taste how excellent Peruvian food can be. Even at a road side diner the food was fresh, varied, well prepared and plentiful.

The desert continued unbroken except in narrow strips around the several rivers where sustained irrigation was possible.

When we reached the Rio Santa we turned inland and climbed gradually to 500 meters. This was the end of the asphalt road and since it was growing dark, we pitched camp near the river. At the point the river seemed incongruous running through a dull sand and stone valley. For 35 kms there was plenty of well irrigated land. We look around for some shelter in case of sudden rain; there was evidence of flash flooding all around.

Throughout the day I kept telling Nathan that the landscape reminded me exactly of some other place:
- desert running into the ocean like at Swakopmund in Nimibia
- craggy mountains rising from the desert like those throughout Kandahar Province in Afghanistan
- river valleys containing numerous rice paddies somehow like northern Thailand where I lived and worked in 1995-96
- the rough road along the Rio Santa once the valley closed in was like Badahkshan in northern Afghanistan.

Day 32: Along the Peruvian coast to Chiclayo (411 kms)

2011-12-06T17:24:00.001-08:00

A concentrated and efficient day of riding through the coastal desert. The landscape is stunning but subtle and a little monotonous. Nathan loaned me travel book written by John Steinbeck in which he describes the Navajo desert in some detail and how abundant life is there if you know where to look. A motorcycle is not the best way to observe this desert life and its varied survival tactics.

Particularly when you are moving at 100kms per hour on average. Today was the first time we've made such speedy progress since leaving the U.S.

Upon reaching Chiclayo, we found a restaurant and got our bearings. I fed my emerging ceviche addiction.

We checked into a hostel and spent the evening chatting with some U.S. Peace Corps volunteers. These were new recruits who were preparing logistically and mentally to head out for two years in often very small villages in Peru's hinterland.

Day 31: Some maintenance and arriving in Peru (246 kms)

2011-12-02T06:15:00.001-08:00

It was time for an oil change so we spent the morning at a garage in Machala doing this and some other routine maintenance. The mechanic's name was Raul and his preferred approach was to work on four vehicles at any one time. He was easily distracted.

His approach was not in line with health code either. The photo shows him cleaning my chain. He used his air hose to suck up gasoline from a can and sprayed it as a pressurized mist to clean the chain and sprocket. This mist was carried by the wind directly into the open window of another customer (who was waiting for Raul to return to finish a halfway completed oil change).

As we were leaving our hotel around 1pm a crowd of about 45 onlookers gathered to see us depart. The number was high, but the scene was typical.

The crossing into Peru was uneventful except that we missed the aduana building and had to backtrack the 15kms or so.

Once in Peru, we followed the Panamericana along the coast to Mancora, a little fishing and surfing town where I had my first of (many?) ceviches in Peru.

Round 2

2011-12-01T11:38:00.001-08:00

I am sitting in the United lounge at Houston International on a rather long layover. I'll take it, as it's more space than I'll have on the seven hour flight down to Lima.

The couple across from me don't appear too thrilled by the lounge, either. That's fair enough. I've considered regaling them with a story of riding from Canada to the Cabo, but then it occurred to me that it would really only have two outcomes. One is that they'd think me a dilettante. Who rides a motorcycle for Christmas vacation? Or, they'd just say "oh, you must know Nate Millar. He is so very handsome."

I will land at just before eleven this evening. Sam will pick me up at the airport. It should be warm air in Lima, which comes just in time given the dropping thermostats in Toronto. Tomorrow, I'll retrieve my bike and do some small maintenance. Saturday, we'll be off.

I am looking forward to more riding through Peru. My summer run was too rushed. I didn't have nearly enough time to ride as much off track as I had hoped. I am also looking forward to explaining to the myriad cops why I am riding on an expired three month permit. The answer, of course, is that I had to return to Canada to teach and write papers. I am no dilettante, after all.

KLA.

Peter

Day 28: to Ipiales and Ibarra (481 kms)

2011-11-28T22:05:00.005-08:00

Southern Colombia proved to be just as fascinating and beautiful as the north. It was (just) another day of spectacular riding through mountains and valleys. With this kind of constant elevation change, there follow changes in temp and pressure too. After yesterday's ride through the rain, I felt a cold coming on.

We made good time even though I had to stop a couple times to adjust little mechanical problems with the bike, from yesterday's bumps.

I wasn't expecting Colombia to be so diverse. We passed through towns that could have been somewhere in Africa given the people, the climate and vegetation, and then back up to quite obviously Andean communities.

After a late lunch in Ipiales, we headed for the border with Ecuador. Needing gas we bypassed several stations in town with longish queues. But everything has an explanation and it soon became clear that none of the stations out on the carreterra had fuel. This was probably due to the road closure in La Linea and the domestic orientation of supply chains. These stations are literally at the end of the line. In the event, however, it was a good thing we didn't fill up since gas prices in Ecuador were the cheapest we saw: about $0.50 a liter.

The border itself was straightforward, until the very last step (confirming my rule that it always one step in the process that slows you down). When we went to secure the temporary importation for the bikes from the aduana, there was nobody manning the post. I started asking around and finally found the main aduana office. A man in an Ecuadorean military uniform and a woman in a national aduana uniform pointed me back to the empty post. Then a man in a windbreaker and a ball cap emerged and gestured for me to follow him. En route he asked for my papers. I declined, perhaps with a little feeling, thinking he was a particularly well entrenched tout. (Avid readers will know my deeply held misgivings of touts.) He responded with great drama and clearly took great offence. When we reached the post and the delinquent, plain clothes customs officer went around behind his desk I thought we were finally in business. Unfortunately not. This man took it upon himself to teach us a lesson in respect for authority. He ploddingly assisted all those petitioners who had formed in a queue behind us and then, 45 mins later when his desk was clear, finally said "let's go look at the motos." Life on the road.

We pushed on for another 75kms or so to the first big town in Ecuador, Ibarra. The highlight of the evening was finding a sports bar that was full of rowdy soccer fans cheering on La Liga to a 2-0 home victory in the first match of the Copa Sud America semi-final. The place went nuts for the second goal (it's a home and away format) and for the victory.

Day 30: Highs and lows in Ecuador (519 kms)

2011-11-28T22:05:00.003-08:00

We left Cuendina at just after 7am. We were headed to Ambato for a breakfast rendezvous with Julio. Nathan met Julio somewhere in BC while riding south from Whitehorse in August. The town had one restaurant and they were two motorcyclists, so they found each other. Julio was on a KTM 525, a barely street legal dirt bike that he rode around South America (including a six day boat trip up the Amazon) and to the end of the road in northern North America. During that trip he carried only one small drybag of gear. He met us on the outskirts of town and escorted us to his family home where breakfast was waiting.

Julio convinced us to take a small detour around Chimborazo, the highest mountain in Ecuador. This ride was one of the highlights of the trip so far. Chimborazo's peak also happens to be the furthest point from the earth's centre. Seemingly all Ecuadoreans know this fact, and I heard about it multiple times.

The ride around Chimborazo was amazing: we had seen some snow capped peaks on the ride to Ambato, but at 4400 meters there were patches of snow on the ground next to the road.

We descended back to the Panamericana and then all the way down to the coast at Machala. Along the way, we stopped to watch the conclusion of a soccer game in penalties. The keeper made a miraculous save to end the game. My cold was flaring up, but I was glad to be back at sea level.

Day 29: Don't miss the Equator (197 kms)

2011-11-28T22:05:00.001-08:00

In Africa, Peter and I missed seeing nearly everything of "importance": the pyramids at Giza (we got lost), Mt Kilimanjaro (shrouded in clouds), the Equator (distracted). On this trip, I resolved to be more organized, prepared or both. On the day we were set to cross the Equator, I studiously watched my GPS and eventually found the precise point on the road where the display went all to zeroes (photo). We then made a slight detour to Ecuador's monument to its namesake: La Mitad del Mundo. Every country needs a small way to show itself in the centre of things. (Brings to mind the map, by an Australian, that shows that shows the southern hemisphere above the north and New Zealand cruelly split in two on the extreme peripheries.) The monument to la Mitad apparently not in the exact right spot, and my GPS confirmed this. We took a photo anyway.

Arriving at la Mitad we met two Aussies on big GS bikes with Florida plates. These guys were on a "circle to circle" trip and intended actually to ship their bikes to Antarctica. Me: "Will you be able to ride over there?" Leader guy: "Doesn't matter. The bikes just have to cross both the circle lines with us." Maybe C2thecabo needs a better gimmick.

These fellows asked about weather we encountered. I stammered out, with some guilt, that we'd had only a couple of rainy days. They were aghast; they made it sound as though they'd had rain nearly every day up to that point. In retrospect, we entered Central America at just the right time: mid-November is when the hurricane season has pretty much blown itself out and the rainy season is drying up. The problem is that most trans-America riders want to leave from Alaska and it's too cold by October. We solved that problem by leaving earlier and taking a break (Nathan and Peter), leaving late from further south (me), and going fast (all). When we told them our schedule, the Aussies said, "that's about the fastest we've heard of so far." It wasn't necessarily praise.

Sure enough, that afternoon we got some serious rain just outside Quito. We took shelter in an Internet cafe and did some TCB.

That evening we paid an unannounced visit on Nathan's host family from when he lived in Ecuador a decade ago. They were seriously excited to see him, and welcomed me warmly too. They insisted that we stay the night, which we did. Some of the kids who were just babies during his stay were now in school and studying English using the dictionary he left behind.

Ecuador is another country with ambitious development plans afoot. Road and infrastructure construction is everywhere. I took from Nathan that the village had changed a lot in ten years too. The political slogan is "La revolucion ciudada esta en marcha", and this was branded throughout the countryside on huge billboards. Most people seemed proud of this ambition and excited by its tangible evidence, but irritated by the high level of taxes.

Day 27: San Agustin and Popoyan (371 kms)

2011-11-28T22:04:00.001-08:00

We left Neiva after breakfast; if we'd known the state of the road ahead we might have been in more of a hurry.

The road to San Agustin continued along the same river valley. San Agustin itself is high above the valley, and the road follows the ridgeline itself so, for at each hairpin switchback, you can peer down on one valley and then the other.

After a very typical lunch that came with a sweet oat beverage, we visited the spectacular statues at San Agustin. These dozens of carvings were set around the funerary sites of a culture that thrived in the area until around 1100AD, and then disappeared. The statues are extremely varied in their style and design, but familiar; perhaps through copies in countless Hollywood movies?

We got back on the road at 2pm with 150kms to Popoyan. A man told us the road would take 3 hours. That seemed absurd, and we still hoped to push a little passed Popoyan towards Pasto. At first the road was terrific (Colombian main highways, when not washed out, typically were excellent), but after climbing above 2500 meters the road turned to rough dirt track, little wider than a single truck. The track continue for 100 kilometers and climbed to over 3700 meters.

And it became even more difficult. Back when Peter and I rode across Africa, our most difficult day of riding was the first in Ethiopia. The road was being paved for the first time and so it was intermittently either the original dirt/stone track or the new sand/dirt foundation for the asphalt road. This second surface, after an intense rain, had turned to mud that was six inches deep. Along with some Italian motorcyclists, we ended up pitching our tents IN the roadway!

So when Nathan and I came across the first road construction site, I thought of Ethiopia and worried. The Colombians are building a concrete road to last for all time (see photo for thickness of the slab). Then it started to rain hard, and I really worried. But despite some slippery and technical riding, it turned out fine. We covered the ground steadily and without incident. It just took time, we didn't reach Popoyan until 8pm. The scenery was also spectacular until darkness fell. At one point as we descended into Popoyan, the road passed inches from the base of a 30 meter waterfall. We felt its presence before seeing it; realizing what it was, I turned my bike around and caught a glimpse with my high beams.

Day 26: Back in the road (329 kms)

2011-11-28T21:42:00.001-08:00

After a full morning of waiting at the aduana (customs) and then for Girag, we finally got the machines just before noon. After a little routine maintenance and work to fix some minor but irritating damage from the transit, we were back on the road. Bogota traffic is intense and it took us more than ninety minutes to fight our way across the city and join the autopista sur.

Even once we found the road, progress was slow: Colombia is not a flat country. But the scenery is spectacular. Because of a rain induced landslide on the main road connecting Cali to the south (these happen almost daily at this time of year and are intensely covered by Colombian TV) we went through Neiva, a town of 300,000 in south-central Colombia. The route largely followed the Magdelena River, which flows alternately in narrow canyons and broad valleys.

Days 23-25: A break in Bogotà (0 kms)

2011-11-28T21:29:00.001-08:00

Three and a half days doesn't sound like a long time to wait, but Girag did everything in their power to stretch things out and disinform us about the real status of the bikes. The wait seemed much longer. (I won't go into detail here but I would not recommend this company to other overlanders; I'll put a more detailed report on ADV Rider.)

Notwithstanding the Girag downer we had a great and productive time in Bogota. It is a truly cosmopolitan city, if a little glum due to the weather which seems to consist of a constant threat of heavy rain.

Estelle and Camillo showed us tremendous hospitality with frequent tasty meals, a great bike ride along the Sunday Cyclovia through town, and some museums. Most of all they opened their home to us and it was a truly relaxing place to stay. Nathan was able to replace his luggage boxes with a significant upgrade at an excellent motorcycle shop.

A highlight was a house party on the Saturday night at a friend of Estelle's called Patricia. Her beautiful home had some unique architectural elements.

Days 21 & 22: Shipping the bikes & flying to Bogotà

2011-11-25T18:40:00.001-08:00

We headed out to the airport first thing on Thursday morning, intending to take care of shipping the machines to Colombia. Our schedule through Central America had been carefully crafted so that we would arrive in Panama with several week days to make arrangements and so minimize the chances of a delay due to the aduana or some other office being closed. The air freight company that most overland motorcyclists use is called Girag. We called on their offices first. It seemed as though everything was coming up roses because there was a flight leaving Friday morning for Bogota. The catch was that we had to leave our bikes as soon as possible. While this was a little inconvenient and cut short the time we intended to stay in PC, we decided to go for it: we would gain three whole days in South America and could stop rushing!!

In the aduana to exit Panama there was evidence of many previous overlanders, some of whom had left stickers on the fusebox. After taking care of all the details, including booking a flight for ourselves on Friday, we left the bikes to be packed up in Girag's loading dock.

I went out for dinner with an international group of overlanders (Brit, Kiwi, French, Thai) while Nathan took some more R&R. In chatting with these folks I contemplated the inherent challenges of this kind of trip: First, every day brings a myriad of decision points, both small and large; Second, communicating between motorcycles is inherently difficult (which is why Peter and I have developed an extremely complex and sophisticated set of hand signals); Third, as in any situation, the number of parties involved increases the challenge of coordination exponentially. The trick is to balance the rewards of spontaneity, with the certainty of unforeseen circumstances and the reality of a hard time cap. A detailed day-by-day schedule has helped us avoid existential discussions about the macro without hampering our flexibility to go a bit further on a given day, see something that we couldn't have known about before the trip or take a road that just had to be driven.

We caught our 11am flight the next morning after an embarrassing episode checking out of the hostel. Since Nathan lost his wallet, I'm bankrolling the trip (it's more like a bridge loan). This included $1800 cash for the freight. So on Thursday, I withdrew my daily limit, leaving not quite enough for cab fares, food and the hotel. I planned to take out some more cash on Friday morning before checking out. But when I went to the ATM it told me to contact my financial institution. That's code for "why the heck are you in Panama and draining your account anyway?" There wasn't time to return to the hostel, call the bank, return to the ATM, check-out and make it to the airport in time. We had to beg forgiveness at the hostel (which didn't take visa) and eventually they let us go, charging us for one night (instead of two) and for a calling card the Nathan had used. We tried to pay more, but they wouldn't accept the partial payment. They did insist on paying for that calling card.

Upon arrival in Bogota, the bikes weren't there. Drag. They would most likely arrive Saturday. I had a great time negotiating with Girag for compensation. Eventually they gave us $300 to cover our accommodation and transport. We had to sit around for a few hours until they were sure that we weren't going to leave without some persuasion.

My old friend and motorcycle enthusiast Estelle, along with her partner Camilo, took us into their home as guests. It was so nice to be somewhere that truly felt like home after three weeks on the road!

Day 20: to Cuidad de Panama (384 kms)

2011-11-25T17:52:00.001-08:00

There was a speeding crackdown in Panama on the day we passed through. It seemed as though there was a cop every 5kms standing in the shade next to his motorbike, holding a radar gun in one hand and talking to his girlfriend on a cell phone in the other. Nathan got busted for doing 84 in a 40 zone. It was bogus, but we played it cool. The cop desperately wanted a bribe and grudgingly issued a ticket when it became obvious none was forthcoming (since losing his wallet Nathan doesn't have any cash). The best part of the interaction was when the the cop took a cellphone photo of the radar gun showing "84" with N's bike's license plate in the background. This photo was then sent by text message to HQ. Apparently the person at the other end dropped the ball since the subject never came up when we exported the bikes!

Day 19: Las Lajas, Panama

2011-11-25T17:44:00.001-08:00

We hit the border around 8:30am heading for the beach at Las Lajas, Panama.

Peter wrote extensively about the border crossings earlier in this space, which helped us greatly. That said, the crossing are alway unpredictable. Take entering Panama, for instance. There were the two typical steps (immigration, customs), plus the relatively common third (mandatory insurance). Usually the third step is rapid: a private company with a conveniently located office issues insurance for a week or a month at a nominal fee. The customs/aduana requires proof of this before issuing the temporary import permit. When crossing into Nicaragua, the insurance agent walked beside me through the immigration process filling out information on her clipboard in parallel. In Panama, for some reason the insurance took about an hour for the two of us.

Another feature of borders are trucks. Usually there are long queues of them. I suspect the trucks waiting to enter El Salvador might have been waiting for several days. In most places the truckers go to a dedicated kiosk, but in Panama they were like second class citizens; the photo show that the immigration agent would see one trucker only after having served three travellers.

Las Lajas is apparently the longest beach in Central America. According to the guidebook, it is busy at the weekends with Panamanians, but deserted during the week. That's about right. It was like we had the whole 14kms of paradise to ourselves. The only complaint was that the large waves seemed wholly unsuitable for body surfing. Perhaps it was the surfers.

Our cabana was simple, so we walked up the beach to a higher end resort for dinner. This was preceded by an epic game of bocci in which I came back from a 9-2 deficit to win with 9 unanswered points.

Day 18: Costa Rica (549 kms)

2011-11-25T17:26:00.001-08:00

We hit the road early. Over night, a plan emerged to try and get ahead of schedule by a day or so and spend a rest day on the beach in Panama. This meant passing through CR largely in one day, and perhaps crossing just into Panama if possible. This is a shameful way to see one of the world's must beautiful and interesting countries, but that is the kind of trip we're on... Fortunately we'd visited CR before, in 1997.

We made good progress through the morning and pushed through San Jose just after 1pm, stopping for lunch on the eastern outskirts just as the climb into the mountains started. The roads were busier and had more frequent changes of elevation than elsewhere in central America. It was slow going, but enjoyable riding. After lunch we continued on CA-2 and climbed to over 3000 meters. There aren't any photos, but I took a lot of video which I'll post once I have a better Internet connection.

Around 4pm we got caught in a wicked rain storm. The road became less hospitable too, with frequent washouts. It was even slower going. But we pushed on, our day off on the beach was calling.

We rolled into the highway town of Rio Claro around 8pm, about 25kms north of the border. I was done; Nathan seemed ready to ride right to Panama City. We checked into a motel that was intricately lighted up and decorated for Christmas; it is still only 15 Nov. We both agreed the aesthetics were pleasing but some of the energy might have been better directed at maintaining toilet hygiene. (Side note: I must be a sucker for road side advertising. This particular motel had road signs every 5km or so for the 30kms before Rio Claro. It reminded me of Wall Drug in South Dakota.)

Day 17: Nicaragua, and into Costa Rica (357 kms)

2011-11-25T17:06:00.001-08:00

After contemplating retracing our steps of last night to find Nathan's luggage, we decided to push on. Nathan spoke to a local motorcycle riding group convening for their weekly ride and they quickly convinced him that there was no chance of recovering the lost items.

We spent the morning in town so Nathan could cancel his credit and bank cards and then headed for Managua and southern Nicaragua. As it was Sunday, the roads were quiet. We lost the Panamericana at some point an ended up driving through central Managua. Once we rejoined the highway, I particularly enjoyed riding up into the mountains and then right along the ridge line; it was as if we were driving down the country's spine.

Throughout the day we saw people going about their typical Sunday activities: church, baseball, family gatherings. Although we spent only a day in the country we both had a very favourable impression.

We crossed into Costa Rica late in the day and pushed on for another 75 kms in growing darkness. After yesterday's misadventure, I felt some unease but we reached Liberia without incident and check in to a very nice hotel (for once).

Day 16: Through Honduras to Leon, Nicaragua (478 kms)

2011-11-25T17:04:00.001-08:00

We had our first real trouble of the trip today, even though the day started well. Breaking with the norm, we had a full breakfast of enormous pancakes, mine full of blueberries, in Playa El Tunco before departing. The barista commented that we must "get lots of women", travelling the way we did. She was smiling.

We decided to pass through Honduras in one day instead of spending the night. That meant two border crossings, so even though the day was low kilometers it was an ambitious day. The border crossing in Honduras turned out to be the most draining yet. About a kilometer from the frontier we came across three guys in the highway. They flagged for me to stop; I slowed and halted just long enough for Nathan to catch up and then accelerated away. The three touts then ran to a waiting truck and peeled away after us. At the check point, these fellas joined a small village of underemployed men seeking aggressively to assist us. We told them "no thanks". But one guy kept getting in my face. I decided to shove him away to make an example and concretely express our desire to be left alone. He was really shocked and thrown off balance. And then his masculine pride was severely damaged. He uttered all sorts of threats about what he was going to do to me in Honduras while slinking away.

We passed through the Salvadorean checkpoint behind a hearse and the officer looked in to confirm the absence of life. The Honduran side was a shambles; I've never been through border facilities that so completely failed to communicate any welcome to the country. The service was friendly, but slow particularly in the customs. At first the one officer was on lunch and then he spent 45 mins for each of us filling out the paper work. I think we were the only assets he processed all day.

The ride across Honduras was uneventful. We stopped at an Esso station with free wifi. I even made a surprisingly clear skype call to Yuri who was pleased with our loyalty to the brand.

Crossing into Nicaragua was another exercise in patience. The touts on the Honduran side tried to scare us into their arms by explaining that it was "another country over there". Really?!

We left the border headed for Leon in full darkness. A fellow at the station had explained that the road was quite bad for a while and then improved greatly. He wasn't exaggerating. It was impossible to avoid ALL the potholes and we each hit a few, hard. We rolled into Leon at around 8:30pm and spent another 30 mins finding a hostel and finally began unpacking. It wasn't until Nathan's bike was completely unpacked that he noticed the absence of his luggage boxes. Were they stolen or did they fall off, and if so when? It was too late to go back and since Nathan wanted to consider his options and assess the loss, we decided to make a plan in the morning.

Day 15: to Playa El Tunco, El Salvador (287 kms)

2011-11-12T13:33:00.001-08:00

A relatively short day of very pleasant riding, punctuated by a painful border crossing from Guatemala into El Salvador. We joined up with the Panamericano highway for the first time just south of the bustling town of Esquintla. Descending towards the coast the heat rose steadily. At the border, there was chaos on the Guatemalan side and then glacial, but incorruptible service on the Salvadorean side. Overall, nearly three hours passed before we were untangled. The only consolation was that we flew by compared to four Aussie blokes who'd had some essential papers stolen and were on an even slower piste. (We had a beer together that evening.)

Once in El Salvador, we left the Panamericano again and headed for one of the best motorcycling roads I've ever been on: El Salvador's CA-2. This road clings to the cliffs and follows beaches of the Pacific coast north of La Liberdad. The route passes through little fishing villages that seem also to cater equally to Salvadorean tourists and surfers. Our final stop was the beach at El Tunco, a serious surfer enclave. We arrived just in time for sundowners.

Days 13 & 14: Crossing Guatemala (527 kms) and a day off in Antigua

2011-11-10T05:46:00.001-08:00

We left Flores at first light after rising at 5am. While loading up and checking the bikes, a pack of rampaging teenagers heading home after an all night bender was efficiently waking up the rest of the town's residents.

We'd heard that the drive to Guatemala City took 9 hours and our designation was further down the road in Antigua. Ideally we wanted to arrive in daylight and certainly wanted to cross Guate City in light.

It was our most challenging day of riding: plenty of elevation changes, twisties, and towns plus heavy traffic and few passing lanes. We did a very efficient ride with only three stops: breakfast, gas and lunch. As it happened we rolled into Antigua just after 3pm. Guate is beautiful and the drivers were more respectful of bikes than I'd heard.

The day and a half long stay in Antigua was brilliant. We took full advantage of the day off (my first since leaving Ottawa). We lazed around, did some errands, did a little bike maintenance, met some interesting people and soaked in the atmosphere of the old colonial capital. Our home base was a hostel called the Terrace run by a friendly American couple. They were worried about the bikes' security and so we rolled them right into the lobby for the night. This left hardly any room for the other guests to enter, but no one seemed to mind!

With its cobblestone, the town is best navigated by bike and there are dedicated parking areas for moos and scooters: the old BMW GS with 64k miles was pretty. Ruins of colonial buildings from 18th century earthquakes and several prominent volcanoes are the town most notable icons.

Day 12: Tikal and Isla Flores, Guatemala (187 kms)

2011-11-10T05:45:00.001-08:00

We left San Ignacio at dawn and rode the 15 kms to the border crossing with Guatemala. The border was fairly uneventful and took about an hour. For Belize we needed to pay several fees, for Guatemala some fees and some copies of our vehicle, driving and travel documents. Crossing borders in the morning is definitely the way to go.

The road into Guatemala was beautiful and mostly in relatively good shape, with some rare unpaved sections of several kilometers. We were headed for the famous ruins at Tikal and stopped for breakfast at the edge of the park. I carelessly left my keys in the ignition after flipping the "kill" switch and after a delicious breakfast the battery was dead. Nathan was already having trouble with his machine's electrics and so now we had two hobbled bikes. After soliciting help from a man near the park gate and a policeman, we soon had about five guys rummaging around and trying to solve the problem. I managed to convey that I merely needed a jump start. One guy fetched his truck and a length of electrical wire, the kind you'd use to string up a lamp. This even had a two prong plug at one end. After stripping the plug and some plastic coating they held it to my battery terminals and to those of the truck while aggressively revving the truck's engine. But the cable didn't have sufficient transmission capability to power the starter; instead we left it for 15 mins and trickle charged it enough for a start. After all that I nearly stalled the bike taking it off the center stand.

After this, and sincere thank yous, we entered the park and visited the ruins. The site is impressive and I particularly liked the tall proportions of the pyramids here, as well as the view from Templo IV above the jungle canopy with several other peaks poking above the trees.

We left the park around 2:30 and headed to the Isla Flores. Thi charming town on a lake with numerous hotels and restaurants. Our room faced west and after a swim in the lake we watched the sun set on another full and interesting day.

Day 11: Becan and Belize (392 kms)

2011-11-10T05:44:00.001-08:00

We breakfasted with our "host family" and then went off to see the ruins near town. In some ways, this was my favourite Mayan site as we had the entire grounds to ourselves with one other couple. After exploring the site and climbing two of the temples, we headed out into Quinan Roo state. Crossing into Belize was simple, but hot.

We had a nice ride across this tiny country. In scale, the place reminded me of Tonga. The people, a diverse bunch, are just as friendly too. We had intended to bypass the capital city, Belize City, but took a wrong turn and ended up passing through. It took only 10 mins or so to see traverse this town of 70,000 residents.

We spent the night at the Midas Resort in San Ignacio near the Guatemala border. We were camping but made full use of the pool. So much so that by the time we were ready to eat something all the restos were closed for the day.

Day 10: visiting the ruins at Palenque and to Campeche (387kms)

2011-11-07T21:56:00.001-08:00

Next morning we were awakened by howler monkeys. This followed a dubious night cacophony from the neighbouring campers. (Those same campers then told Nathan that the monkey symphony couldn't possibly be real and must be taped sounds of lions and tigers!)

My first experience at Mayan ruins was impressive. The Palenque site is well worth a visit. The cluster of a palace, temples, games field, aqueduct, and funerary pyramid was situated on the side of a steep jungle hill. We spent some time slowly wandering around early in the morning before the crowds got too heavy.

We had a swim in the pool and a light lunch and then hit the road for Campeche. We didn't have a specific destination intended, but thought there might be something interesting around the ruins at Xpujil. One of Nathan's headlights burnt out and so once darkness fell we stopped in the town of Becan. There was a roadhouse in town, but also a place to camp. We chose the latter and it worked out perfectly as it was more like a family homestay than an impersonal campsite. Our hosts prepared a quick meal of sandwiches and coffee and we ate with them and some friends al fresco. Nathan then fixed his light in the carport and I went to bed early.

Day 9: through Tabasco to Palenque, Chiapas (514 kms)

2011-11-07T21:36:00.001-08:00

Next day, Sat 5 Nov, we got a slightly later start, around 8:30. Nathan was feeling under the weather. The road from Roca Partida to Catemaco was the best so far: lots of twisties, a challenging combination of narrow tar and gravel/dirt, plenty of elevation changes and either through a jungle canopy or along the Gulf. Once we rejoined the main highway, we made good time through the remainder of Veracruz and then Tabasco state. At one point, we were passed by a BMW RT with Guate plates and then later saw two groups of 4+ bikes heading north.

Mexico is a country in a hurry to develop. There are Pemex gas stations being built and roads under construction everywhere. Somehow this was most notable driving from through Veracruz.

Just before dusk we reached the turn off for Palenque in Chiapas. Tomorrow we'll visit the Mayan ruins near town.

Day 8: along the Costa Esmeralda to the Costa de Oro (487 kms)

2011-11-07T21:01:00.001-08:00

Encouraged by our ride out to Tamiahua, we took another detour at the end of a long day of riding through Veracruz state: out along a tertiary road to a town called Roca Partida. We spoke to a few locals and determined it would be fine to camp on the beach. Neither of us was particularly hungry, but a cerveza was nice. As night was falling, it looked as though it would rain, but it was only the sea moisture piling up against San Martin volcano. We stayed dry all night.

Day 7: via Tampica to Tamiahua (612 kms)

2011-11-07T12:08:00.001-08:00

We left Montemorelos at dawn and came across the scrub land and down to the coast at Tampico. The wind gust were the main feature of the ride. We were heading for south of Casitas, trying to make up some time from yesterday.

Once we came to Tampico, we followed the highway through town instead of taking the bypass. It took a long time, and we got lost. It started to rain once we were clear of the city and we stop to adjust our gear. Stephane from Montreal was having a cerveza in the roadhouse. He was riding a KLR solo south, with no rigid schedule. He was not enjoying rainy season. We pushed on, but soon it was threatening to get dark. So we took a tertiary road out to the coast planning to camp on the beach. It took a little longer to reach the coast because of the quality if the road, and so once we were reached Tamiahua it was fully dark and still raining. We found a hotel run by a man called Rene. We both really enjoyed getting off the main route, the bikes are made for that kind of riding.

Day 6: Laredo to Montemorales (450 kms)

2011-11-07T12:07:00.001-08:00

Nathan and I learned some good lessons today: what to do when you get separated (the guy behind should stop and wait for the lead to return); how much to trust the maps in my GPS in Mexico (not a lot). In the former situation, we involved the police. In the latter, we ended up on an animal track. It was still a good day of riding but more dramatic than necessary. By comparison crossing the border was forgettable. We did get cool stickers to put on our windows.

After losing Nathan, I found an off duty police officer called Carlos (actually he found me) and he then helped me find Nathan. Carlos had lived in the US until a year before and was one of the "new generation" of police. He was genuinely worried for me and worried that I would misinterpret his assistance. When we were reunited, we invited him to dinner. He was hesitant to accept; he didn't help us for his own benefit. Anyway we all went for a big dinner of fajitas. Carlos told us his plans to take steroids and get bulky, to acquire a pitbull, to post a new profile photo to Facebook with his new "cowboy" police uniform, and of his love for his gun.

Day 5: Texas (~900 kms)

2011-11-01T19:32:00.003-07:00

I arrived in Laredo around 6:30 pm, set up camp and did a little shopping. Nathan still hasn't arrived so I came to a McDonald's to squat on their Internet and see if he'd sent me any messages.

The day of riding was enjoyable but relatively uneventful. It felt like the first day of the trip in some ways since the weather was warm and the landscape was different than anywhere I'd riden before: west Texas scrub.

I did a range test on my bike. I recently changed the gearing after running out of gas twice on the ride with Chris to Labrador this summer. I now have 415kms on a tank at an avg speed of 108 per hour plus an extra 1.5 liters of fuel in a can, so nearly 450 effective range. That's about a 25% improvement.

Highlight of the day was stopping for BBQ for lunch. I ate outside in the back. The only other people were an older white couple and a black man having a heated conversation. I didn't catch everything but the gist was that the couple wanted to borrow some money from the man. It was a kind of bridge loan and it seemed to be required because the couple had been the subject of a scam or needed to sell their home quickly or both. In any case they seemed resentful and bitter. The man was trying to assess how likely he was to get his money back, but it came off like he was unsympathetic to their situation. I spoke to him afterwards and he was the owner of the BBQ place as well as two others nearby. He had finished college, been drafted into the army, done 18 months in Vietnam, survived and come home to start the business. He told me: "Nothing's free in life." Maybe he was worried that I thought he was preying on the old couple. It was excellent BBQ.

Day 4: Florida Gulf Coast to Lafayette, LA (919 kms)

2011-11-01T19:11:00.001-07:00

Great day today. Good weather, scenery, a long ride and lots of time to explore. Also passed through Alabama; this is the 49th state I've visited (only AK left - maybe next summer?) and 47th I've motorcycled through (only AK, UT and HA).

The morning started along the Gulf Coast on US 90. At first the towns were small, remote and a little rough. Once I came to Panama City it was busier, and fancier. There's an air base near the town and as I was driving through two war planes took off with after burners on; without a visual and with ear plugs they sounded as though my bike was falling apart beneath me. I must have looked half crazed to the other motorists as I was looking around frantically for the source of the noise.

Along the way I observed a number of signs, which is a kind if pastime on moto trips:
- a sign with an image of a mother bear and her cub crossing (didn't know there were bears in Florida);
- "Primitive Baptist Church";
- "CEO shrimp for social security prices";
- property for sale signs, a lot of them;
- "Live Tiger Exhibit";
- "Many accidents involve trees" (this one was a complete non-sequitur and featured an image of an auto wrecked into the trunk of a tree); and,
- "Live Wrinkle Free...BOTOX".

I pulled into New Orleans around 4pm. The streets were relatively quiet and it seemed like a lull in the action particularly since it is Halloween. I remember watching an episode of Treme that profiles Halloween in NO and how it is second only to Mardi Gras in the extent of the party. I hung around for a while and it didn't disappoint.

The other thing I do to pass the time is by trying to think of song about the places I'm passing through. Glenn Nuotio's song about Biloxi occurred to me when riding through that Mississippi town. I heard a jazz band play When the Saints Come Marching In (they must be sick of that one) which I'd hummed earlier in the day. Steve Earle's song about the roughneck who lives in Lafayette was ringing in my helmet when I rolled up to my motel there for the night.

Day 3: To Bald Point State Park, FL (932 kms)

2011-10-31T09:52:00.001-07:00

I broke camp at dawn and walked off the beach as the sun was rising out of the Atlantic.

There is a series of coastal ferries in North Carolina and taking one would save me backtracking 60kms or so, but I had no information on the schedule. Happily, and seemingly for the first time in my motorcycling career, I arrived at the ferry terminal with four minutes remaining before the 08:30 departure and rolled right on the vessel. The crossing was 30 mins and I spoke the entire time with one of the crewmembers who conveyed facts about the civil war, opinions on seabirds, advice on driving routes and stories about dogsledding near Banff.

After disembarking, I crossed SC and Georgia. As with so many days of riding I contemplated stopping before the intended destination, but as I crossed the state line into Florida I got a second wind. Nearing the Gulf Coast I stopped for dinner at a seafood restaurant; it made me think of previous trips with Yuri and the Barking Crab in Boston and catfish in Louisiana.

Finally, I did the last hit to Bald Point. Like last night, the park was shuttered, but I've found a secluded public beach access and I'll pitch tent here for the night.

Life on the road.

Day 2: Washington to Carolina Beach, NC (740 kms)

2011-10-30T08:10:00.001-07:00

My second day of riding started very wet and cold. But my gear is mostly working well, which is a good thing since I think we'll get a lot of rain on this trip. As I rode into North Carolina the sky cleared, just in time for some college football! I rolled into Chapel Hill and watched the first half of the Tar Heels play the Wake Forest Demon Deacons (isn't that the best nick name?!). It was a sloppy but exciting game full of turnovers, blocked punts, long runs and 40+ yard passing plays. At half time, I got back on the bike heading for the coast. The state park at Carolina Beach was closed for the night, but the beach and town were quiet (it's October) so eventually I found a quiet spot to camp on the beach. Medium surf and bright stars.

Day 1: Ottawa to Washington, DC (946kms)

2011-10-28T21:48:00.001-07:00

First day went smoothly. Scott Blaylock rode me out of town and all the way to Syracuse, NY. (thanks, Scott!) It was freezing, actually -3. That's cold on a bike. There was even some clumpy wet snow on the ground in some of the higher elevations. Once I descended down into southern Pennsylvania and towards Baltimore, the temps rose and so did my spirits. It was nice to be on the road finally, but my mind and body slow down with prolonged exposure to the wind chill of a moto at speed. I rolled into DC around 8pm and went straight to rendezvous with Niall O'Dea and his friend Brian. Today's photo shows them enjoying the final out of Game 7 of the World Series.

Goodbye ride

2011-10-23T19:19:00.001-07:00

The second phase of the trip is starting: Nathan left from Vancouver today; and I'm leaving from Ottawa in four days. Yuri organized a goodbye party for me on Friday night and today I went for a goodbye ride with my Ottawa moto crew (video below).

Nathan's YXY - YVR (Whitehorse to Vancouver)

2011-08-29T20:32:00.000-07:00

August 22 - 28

A great run from Whitehorse to Vancouver was a great testing ground for me, the bike, and gear. Because Sam and I are heading out in late October and I didn't envy the idea of riding from Whitehorse that time of year, I spent the last week bringing the bike to Vancouver, from where I'll leave in October. I guess that makes this Part I.

Here's me just before getting on the bike in Whitehorse.

The trip was great. ~3500km in 7 riding days - a non-direct route with some amazing riding days. Roads all over the SE of BC were a dream like this one:

I stopped in Nakusp to see uncle Harry and take in a couple of events at the Horizon's Unlimited annual meet-up (http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/). The best part was the 'how to change a flat' demo.

One of my favourite roads was this one between the Thompson River and Adams Lake (Agate Bay). It was hay season and the sights and smells were intense, the road was good, traffic was light, and it was hot, but not too hot. Just perfect.

Some of my favourite things:
1. feeling the cold of the creeks as I ride by.
2. smells. you can smell everything.
3. finding my wallet after losing it for a whole night (see below)
4. the heat of SE BC in summer
5. My Adams Lake campsite (photo -->)

The wallet story.
I arrived in Quesnel late at night after having to back track from Barkerville (I had planned to ride south from Barkerville via Forest Service Roads, but a bridge was out so I returned to Quesnel). I gassed up and a very friendly but odd attendant at the gas station distracted me as I was gassing up (e.g., she explained to me how I needed to select the grade of gasoline by pressing one of the flashing buttons; thank god she told me; i might still be there otherwise trying to figure it out). Normally I keep my wallet in a zip pocket that faces me on my tank bag - very secure. I inferred later that, perhaps not thinking very clearly being distracted and fatigued, I did not look at what I was doing did not actually put the wallet the pocket but zipped it up and drove away with the wallet sitting on the seat between my legs.
45 min later after being unsatisfied with several potential free camping spots I returned to near the gas station to spend the night at a motel... at which point I realized the wallet was gone, gone, gone.
Digression: Before I realized my misfortune, I went into the motel to inquire on rates and was told it was $49 for the night. I then asked about having a kitchenette so I could cook my dinner. I was told that the only available rooms with cooking facilities had full kitchens, not kitchenettes, and were therefore more expensive.

'Well, all I need is a kitchenette... so really, nothing?'
"No, just full kitchens" Pregnant pause
'Well, how much are they?'
"$50"
I contain my laughter.
End Digression. So I then go out to find my wallet and realize it is gone. Swear word. I check the gas station, check all my bags, nothing. No sign. Despair. Very generous Quesnelians - place to stay, $ to tide me over. But I have to look. I ride off retracing my path, scanning, scanning, getting off when I slowed down or got off before. Nothing. I arrive at the parking lot of the day use provincial park where I had looked for a campsite earlier. No sign. Swear word. I'm too tired to go on. Eat and sleep.
Wake up. Swear word. Okay, I'm calm; I have to retrace my route and keep looking; if that doesn't work I'll move on to next steps. I arrive at one of the small riverside parks where I had turned the bike in a u-turn last night. Looking... nothing. Next park. I can see the tire tracks from last night. I get off and follow them. Scanning. Swear word of joy. There it is. Lying in the grass just untouched an unmoved from where it must have fallen from the bike when I had put my leg out to steady the bike in a tight turn.
Such relief and joy.

Looking forward to the next phase!!

LINK TO MAP

Nathan

Peru

2011-07-18T19:33:00.000-07:00

I am now in Lima, waiting to fly back to Toronto and then Boston for a conference. More will follow of course, but for now I will note four things:

1. Pressed for time, I had just three days to ride to Lima from Cali, Columbia. I finished in time, which makes me almost the man Sam was for killing the Trans Lab loop in the time he did.
2. I wish I had realized that after Quito, the Pan America splits into two: Norte and Sur. The first runs straight lines along the coast. The second winds along the spine of the Sierras. It is truly breathtaking, but is also eight hundred plus kilometers of twisties. This is the route I took. It was unmatched in the sun and terribly hard in the rain and fog at night.
3. The Pan Am along the Peruvian coast is truly remarkable. First, it is excellent pavement. Second, the drivers are incredibly reckless. Third, it is almost all sand dunes and ocean. I rode 1000 kms on some other planet.
4. Walking around Lima, buying clean, proper clothes for this conference, I realized I was exhausted and could have fallen asleep at that moment. And riding my bike to the house of a friend's father (thanks Claudia!), I realized that while I was anxious to be home and to be back to work, I could have ridden three more weeks. I felt rather lucky at that moment.

Keep looking ahead.

The Borders

2011-07-18T19:18:00.000-07:00

For my own records, but also for help of future overlanders, I thought I might outline my experience (as I recall it) of each border crossing.

Mexico

I crossed into Mexico at Brownsville, Texas, early on a Tuesday. As always, I first checked into immigration, and then in aduana (customs). Mexico requires a deposit of $400 for a motorcycle, plus a non-refundable fee of about $40. I paid the deposit on my credit card. It was refunded three days after checking out of mexico.

Customs finishes with a document and a sticker for the bike's windshield. All in, it took me under 90 minutes to check in. That said, I was there first thing in the morning, so it could be much longer midday.

I checked out of Mexico in Tapachula. Here, you have to complete the aduana first, in a station on the highway before Tapachula. One knows where it is by way of the frantically waving locals with homemade badges who direct you towards the station. I arrived at the town after the closing of the office, so I returned first thing in the morning. It took me less than twenty minutes to check out, and I required no assistance. The official gives you a document certifying exit, and removes the sticker from the windshield. I then travelled the twenty kms to the border station.

Unlike the crossing in, this station was full of touts. Indeed, it was rather fitting that the border post was also encircled by a large group of vultures. Still, it was an easy crossing out. All in, Mexico was a breeze.

Guatemala

Guatemala was similarly buzzing with touts, though their badges appeared marginally less official. Embarrassingly, I was ripped off by money changers here. Having let my guard down, I exchanged money with a man who counted the money is his hand, rather than laying down the bills before me. My four rules of exchanging money:

1. Know the exchange rate and know how much you expect for your money ahead of time.
2. Always insist on money being laid out, bill by bill, in front of you. A bill is only counted sheen it leaves a hand.
3. Hand your own money over only after counting and controlling the new currency.
4. Remember faces.

Guatemala, like Mexico, required a windshield sticker. The total cost was about $15, and was all completed at one window, with the exception of payment, which happens one office over.

When it came time to pay, i was short as a result of the earlier counting scam. So, I left the customs official my title and rode into the nearest town to get money from a cajero.

Customs here were very straightforward, and I required no help. Save the self-imposed time loss, this was less than a one hour process.

I don't recall the exit from Guatemala very well, but I do remember it being rather straightforward.

El Salvador

Entering El Salvador was rather simple. I was stopped on the bridge into the country, and ws made to fill out a form. After doing so, the officer checked my VIN, and then sent me to the aduana office. There, all of my information was entered into a computer by another official. I was given a stamped paper confirming my temporary importation. Following this (contrary to convention), I checked into immigration. Because of an agreement with Guatemala, El Salvador did not stamp my passport. I was then off. The entire process was free. It was slow, but not overly so.

Checking out of El Salvador was unremarkable.

Honduras

Entering Honduras was the sole time in Central America I made use of an agent. I am not sure I needed his help, but I was pressed for time and wanted to make it to Nicaragua before the border closed, and thus acquiesced. Truth to tell, it just seemed like a lot of running back and forth to the photocopy shop. Otherwise, I think it was rather simple. I imagine one could do this without assistance in under 90 minutes. In total, I paid $16 to import the bike, and $10 to the agent.

The highlight of this entry was that the agent asked me for an additional $10 i n exchange for my information being entered "into the system". I asked him what would happen if I wasn't entered into this magical system. He assured me it would cost me $25 to be put into the system on my way out of the country. How they'd know i was ever in it, I didn't ask. I passed on this charge and had no trouble on the way out.

Nicaragua

Bring a book.

This was easily the slowest border I passed. Everything happened within one building, just very slowly. Note that you have to buy insurance here. It costs less than $20. You also have to pay a nominal amount for your stamp.

I left Nicaragua in the dark. It was truly farcical. There are four steps. First, get an exit stamp. This is easy. Second, find the correct police officer for a signature for the bike form. I found him on the edge of the bush, behind a building. I felt bad about interrupting whatever he was beginning or starting, but I was on a timeline. You then need to get a stamp from another police officer. I found this one hanging out in an insurance office. You then go to another building to be stamped out. All told, this was a longish process, but amusing.

Costa Rica

I went through five steps to enter Costa Rica:

1. Stamp in at immigration.
2. Begin paperwork at the aduana.
3. Buy insurance down the road.
4. Compete paper work at the aduana office.
5. Go the other direction up the road to get the bike stamped out.

Leaving Costa Rica on the pan am took less than 30 minutes. I stamped out and then went a few offices over to get my bike stamped out.

Panama

Panama was simple, but a bit slower. I stamped in, and then bought insurance across the street for less than $20. I then stamped in the bike. This took a while, as the official could not find the bike model in the computer. Nonetheless, it was quite simple, and everything happened in a 200 foot radius.

Columbia, Ecuador and Peru

Leaving aside the process of importing the bike by air into Columbia, traversing these borders was an absolute breeze. None took me longer than 30 minutes, and each was completely free. The officials at these posts were model bureaucrats.

General Comments

After two crossings, I adopted a new approach to borders and touts. First, I rode in with my dark windscreen down, and rather quickly. I kept eye contact to a minimum and rode right up to the immigration office. I think was helpful in appearing to know what I was doing. And when i was off track, i knew the touts would point me in the right direction in order to appear knowledgable.

While it is rude, I generally didn't exchange pleasantries and just said "Peru" whenever asked where i was going. When I needed to be, I was very assertive with those who were insistent on helping. On occasion, this meant physically pushing through those trying to stop me.

Remember, these are not volunteers. They are agents who will extract every margin possible. They feed on uncertainty. They can be useful when you wish to do something quickly. Otherwise, government officials will always tell you the next required step.

Always keep a reserve stash of $100 USD in your boot or some other place. Always replenish.

Bring 30 copies of your passport, title, and license.

Finally, remember that most nearly any mistake you make will be caught by an official on the way out, so if you're allowed to go then everything is fine.

Meeting Nick Sanders and shipping to Cali

2011-07-13T06:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, waiting to pack my bike at the Girag Cargo warehouse in Panama, I met Nick Sanders, who was getting his own Super Tenere released. He was on his way back to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, after completing the run from there to Cape Horn in 21 days. He might be the worlds best long distance rider.

Because he had some time to kill, we talked a lot about riding. I learned a fair bit, which made the wait in panama worth it.

I am now in Cali, in a hotel set among a half dozen plastic surgery clinics. Quite the site to see through lifted eyes. Off to get the bike in a moment.

Waiting it out in Panama

2011-07-10T21:28:00.000-07:00

I apologize to those expecting regular updates. I've had a time getting down to Panama, where I arrived after riding hard for 13 of 14 days. I am now cooling my heels at panama passage (a sort of Jungle Junction East), waiting for the bike to fly to Cali, Colombia on Wednesday. I'll precede it by a day.

Once in Colombia, I have some six days, including Monday, to make it to Lima in time for my flight back to North America, 2 am on Tuesday. I am counting on only four days, leaving 600 kms of mostly twisty riding per day.

I expect this to be much like the first two weeks of the trip: often disagreeable in weather, almost always enjoyable and physical riding, much of the time very solitary but not really lonely, and constantly a source of future reward. I'll be doing it on a bike which has yet to disappoint, and with enough experience in tight spots that I think I can make it through.

I promise I'll write more later, likely on the flight home.

Keep looking ahead.

Labrador, Nfld, Maritimes trip report

2011-07-05T08:25:00.000-07:00

I returned to Ottawa yesterday, shortly after 10pm. Christian and I completed a whirlwind circuit of the North Coast of Quebec, Labrador, the Newfoundland's Great Northern Peninsula and two of the three Maritime provinces. The total distance was 5060 kms. (Chris is still in Moncton and will return to Ottawa on Wednesday.) No major incidents to report. The bikes ran great. The scenery was as beautiful as I remembered. And the road and schedule were a great challenge. Chris and I were very compatible riders and had a great time racing through the wilderness and sharing several nice meals.

Here is the schedule:
- Jul 1: Ottawa to Labrador City. 1450kms. 17.5 hours riding time.
- Jul 2: Labrador City to L'Anse au Clair, NL. 1140kms. 17 hours riding time.
- Jul 3: L'Anse au Clair, NL to Port-aux-Basques, NL. 620kms. 7 hours riding time.
- Jul 4: North Sydney, NS to Ottawa, ON. 1697kms. 16 hours riding time.

It was a quick ride, so quick that I only took one photo. Here is Christian with the bikes at the mine reservoir near Fermont, Quebec.

Although there isn't much photographic evidence, I did come away with a ton of memories...
- Best day of riding: the ride from Lab City to near Blanc Sablon was epic.
- Most idiotic moment: running out of gas for the second time on the first day (I'm still getting to know the Strom's range under different conditions).
- Best meal: bowl of split pea soup, can of Guinness and bag of salt & vinegar chips on the ferry from Port-aux-Basques.
- Most challenging segment of riding: toss up between the Fire Lake road in dusk and the road down to Red Bay in fog, rain and complete darkness. Also wherever they were fixing the road by adding gravel on top required focused attention.
- Most scenic stretch: riding through Gros Morne and the rest of the Great Northern Peninsula.
- Best timing: rolling into Lab City as the Canada Day fireworks were going off.
- Amount of power being generated by Churchill Falls as we rolled passed: 2816 megawatts.

Finally, for the real bike nerds here are my stats for Day 4 of riding. It was a very fast and long iron butt.
- Start point: North Sydney, NS at 6:01am (EDT)
- End point: Ottawa, ON at 10:02am (EDT)
- Total time: 16 hours and one minute
- Number of gas/food stops: 5 (New Glasgow, NS; Partridge Valley, NB; Perth-Andover, NB; La Pocatière, QC; Ste-Hyacinthe, QC)
- Total distance: 1697kms
- Avg speed (including stopped time): 106km/h
- Avg moving speed (not including stopped time): 115km/h

Day 6: San Luis to Puebla

2011-07-01T06:46:00.000-07:00

Day 6 was not a success. I slept in and got a late start, which was fine as I only had about 600 kms to ride. I planned on avoiding tolls and taking a secondary, twisted route. This was scuttled when I came about a road block occasioned by a transport that had slid over the edge of the mountain road I was riding. Two tow trucks had set to pulling him out, but as it didn't look like an easy task, I turned around and ate the 40 kms I'd put in.

(I admit, when you start a post about your own bad day with an anecdote about someone else's very bad day, you set the bar a touch high).

Backtracking, I took a toll road towards Mexico City, which I would have to ride around to get to Puebla. Normally, I would rely on a GPS for this, but the maps Sam and I bought for our units are truly terrible. So, I was left to a fairly high level road map.

I covered the 400 kms towards Mexico fairly easily, most of it unremarkable high plains with a fair amount of agriculture, a great number of trucks, and lots of small restaurants dotting the roadside. It was also rather wet, which never helps much.

As I reached the outside of Mexico, I was pulled over at a main toll gate. Mexico City has traffic restrictions which do not allow cars into the Federal District on some days according to the last number on their plates. Today was my lucky day.

The officer who pulled me over really knew no English except "camera", "ticket", "dollars", "garage" and "Amigos? Friends?". This is completely defensible. I know no Spanish. It only added to the absurdity of it all. As we couldn't communicate, he put me on a phone with a counterpart who could. He explained to me my offense, of which I was obviously guilty. The consequence was that I could go to the garage and have my bike seized, or I could pay $100 US, and the other officer would pay my ticket for me. I asked for the officers name and badge number, which he promptly gave me. As I couldn't see him, I have no way of knowing if the information he gave me was correct. I suspect it wasn't.

I ended the call and then sat on my bike, fiddling with my tank bag and GPS for a few minutes. The original officer and I were obviously in a standoff. When I finally pulled a 100 peso note from my wallet, being sure to wave it in plain site, he feigned horror. He then pointed out the camera on his dash, which was catching the whole thing. He returned to his car, where out of the site of the camera, we bargained over how much it would cost to end the charade. Asking me "friends?" with clasped hands, he then said "one hundred dollars" and made a wiping clean motion with his hands. Continuing my apparent ignorance of exchange rates, I again produced a 100 peso note. We eventually bargained down to 40 USD, to which he said "Amigos!". Indeed.

This absurdity over, i continued on, worried about getting pulled over again. I decided to bite the bullet and pay for a toll road around the city, under the logic that the cost (and it is very costly) would be worth getting out of the district. This worked until halfway around, when I found that the toll road had been blocked. I was thus forced to turn back north, taking an arterial road through a rough suburb, which would connect me to a mopper northerly highway. All in, this would add 50 kms to the trip. The first 15 of these would take almost two hours, all of it in the rain, on terribly potted roads, often at a crawl. It's a small complaint now, but it was a terrible trouble then, not least because such riding is tough on a bike. One has to rely on the clutch too much, as dragging the rear brake isn't an option in the potholes. It's also not good to hit two deep holes simultaneously. All in, it was just a lot of work.

I eventually rolled into Puebla in the dark in a steady rain. I made a search for a cheap hotel, but was conscious of the hour. After a search, I ended up breaking the budget on a holiday inn. I appreciated the comfort, much as I am now appreciated eating as much at the free breakfast as possible.

My hotel room is full of wet clothes, though my jackets are nearly dry. I don't reckon the smell of bike boots will soon depart.

I am soon to leave for Oaxacha, again in the rain. Thankfully, I knew a dryer awaits at the other end, so I will get my affairs sorted there. Today is my seventh day of riding. I don't have a break scheduled until Panama, though in two days I have a short ride into Guatemala, where I'll spend the day with Julio Bernard. This should be good for the soul, if not the liver.

I'll leave it with a true Lorenism: Today's going to suck. It's gonna be a lot of fun, too.

The Trans-Labrador Highway

2011-06-30T05:29:00.000-07:00

Unlike Peter, who feels regret at not having seen something beautiful sooner, I'm feeling exhilaration at the prospect of presently seeing a beautiful place for a second time. Chris and I leave tomorrow morning; departure time 4am. You can follow our progress through the wilderness here. Thanks to Scott Blaylock for loaning his Spot device.

Peter: where is that sat phone that we signed out and were never able to return in 2007?

Days 3, 4, and 5

2011-06-30T01:46:00.000-07:00

A very quick update, with more to follow tomorrow. I am now in San Luis, having crossed into Mexico today at Brownsville. I entered MX much farther south than planned, and a day later. Yesterday was spent getting tires changed out and riding down to Brownsville.

All I shall say about Mexico for now is that crossing the mountains into the interior was some of the best riding of my life, and I have not yet felt unsafe. I've only felt that familiar regret for not having seen something beautiful sooner.

Today I leave for Puebla. More to come.

Days 1 & 2

2011-06-27T01:12:00.000-07:00

After two days, I am in Little Rock, staying at the most simple of motels.

Saturday morning, Sam and I left Kensington Market in a light rain. I was in a bit of a fog, having had friends in for dinner the night before. A good hour on the road solves all problems. We weren't long to the border, after which we headed across the north end of Detroit before turning south for Toledo (home of one of America's great art galleries, you should know) and Dayton (the home of the Wright Brothers).

We ended the day just over the border in eastern Kentucky, where the Ohio river separates Kentucky from Indiana. We had wanted to stay at Big Bone Lick Park, a place famous for the finding of mammoth bones in the 19th century, brought there centuries earlier by the salt lick. They were full, so we paid for a site on a large lawn, by the river. It was a splendid place, with a light overcast and the sun setting behind the hills across the river. I retired to bed after losing a game of two handed Euchre.

The camp site was also downhill, so when the sky opened up at 5 am, things turned rather ugly. Talking from one tent to the other, Sam suggested we get up and ride, not least because we were exposed to the lightning. I was unpersuaded, until 7 am, when water began pooling ion our tents. I dressed completely in the tent and set to packing up. There was no point in bagging the wet tent, so I strapped it to the bike.

We escaped the site as quickly as possible, and had breakfast by the highway. Sam left for Ottawa (a mere 1250 kms!) and I left for Little Rock. I feared a complete day of rain, but truth to tell things dried up pretty quickly, save one bit of hard thunder showers.

Rather than ride through Memphis, I rode across the top of Kentucky, dipping into Tennessee before crossing the Mississippi into Missouri, and then into Arkansas.

Riding American highways on a Sunday is a great pleasure. There are wonderful divided highways winding across all these states, often with reasonably high speed limits. If you are willing to ride a touch over the limit, you can make fine time.

The ride down the Mississippi delta was hot, terribly so, reminding me what the big challenge of this ride will be. But I will take it over the rain.

This morning I leave for College Station, where I hope to get my tires changed out before leaving for Mexico Tuesday morning. It promises to be a long hot ride to get through northern Mexico in a day.

Keep looking ahead.

The more things change...

2011-06-24T22:09:00.000-07:00

Three years ago, I flew into Africa after a nice conference in Manchester, where I chatted with Peter John. This week and last, I spent time at a conference in Dublin whrere i chatted with Peter and worked with two colleagues in Oxford.

After the 2008 conference, I headed straight into Egypt. Sam and I struggled to free our bikes, and then took off for Cape Town, via Nairobi, among many other places. Now, another week after thinking about political science, I am hopping on a bike to Mexico, then Central America, then Columbia and Ecuador, finishing in Lima, Peru. I'll ride the rest of the way to Cape Horn in December.

I am on a different bike this time. No more KLR 650s for me, but also no more supersport FJR1300. It will be lots of work to maintain 120 kmh on average, but still possible to hit 150 kmh when the road calls. I bought a new to me 2008 Vstrom yesterday. I am looking forward to stretching it out on the highway.

Keep looking ahead.

First rides: Peter's departure & Lab Hwy

2011-06-21T07:29:00.000-07:00

The official start of the trip to the Cabo is only four days away; Peter and I will leave Toronto on Saturday morning headed for Kentucky. He will continue on alone for several weeks, putting the bike into storage in Lima until Dec 1. At that point, he'll re-connect with Nathan and me and we'll ride together to the end of the road. I don't see anything that could go wrong with that plan!

Peter has promised daily updates on his progress and he's even taking a camera this time (thanks, Yvette!!).

I'm looking forward to first long weekend of riding, but I'm a little nervous about how comfortable the Strom will be after a day of interstate riding.

The following weekend (over Canada Day) Christian Girouard and I will do a four-day loop from Ottawa to Port-aux-Basques, NL to Blanc Sablon, QC to Labrador City, NL to Ottawa. 5000kms of riding in four days. No problem.
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Nathan's bike and some early season rides

2011-06-10T15:04:00.000-07:00

Now that spring (and summer) are here, I've been getting out as much as possible and now more and more as things warm up.

A few nights ago, I ran up to Twin Lakes for the evening (actually didn't get home til 1:30 - still moderately light out. Saw a grizzly sow and her three young. Mum reared up and hissed and swatted the earth and air as I rode by. I felt a lot more exposed on a bike then I normally do when I see bears in a car. A bit of fishing (no luck that night, water was a bit high) and some grilled cheese on the fire... mmm.

Mid may I went down to Atlin for the weekend to camp out and explore - took this photo looking south over the still frozen lake.

In prep for the trip, I've done a few mods including wiring in a GPS, some heated grips and a 12V outlet which should come in handy for charging up electronics.

Oh yeah - and the bike? An '08 KLR 650 - low mileage, bought 2nd hand summer of 2009.

Sam's bike

2011-05-24T04:35:00.000-07:00

I've had my new machine for a few weeks now, but finally getting around to posting a pic now. It's a 2009 Suzuki DL-650 (wee Strom). Just under 18k kms now, with only 1000 or of those by me -- not too much riding this spring in Ottawa. With a few trips planned before October (e.g., a four day loop on Lab Hwy, a Jays game in Cleveland, Day 1 of Peter's ride to Cinci), I suspect the total for 2011 will be about 35k kms, including the Americas ride.

While I was not riding, I put on some farkles. This is the first time I've set up a bike with so much attention. I guess previous experience makes you more choosy: taller and adjustable windscreen; aux xenon driving lights and halogen fog lights (both Hella Micro DEs); heated grips; centre stand; brackets for my Hepco Becker boxes; skid plate (not shown); radiator guard; perm air filter. She came with crash bars and brush guards. I'll also put some handle bar risers, a voltage meter, and play around with the seat configuration and tires. Other than that, we're ready for some long rides.