The Grand Finale

Days 219-225

There have been times on this journey when we've questioned the wisdom of arranging to meet friends in Rio for carnival, thinking maybe we'd prefer an extra month or two resting along the way instead. As soon as carnival began, though, these doubts vanished and we're so pleased we kept pushing ourselves along! There were street parties all around the city every day, called 'blocas' with small samba schools providing music, but the main samba parade in the purpose build sambodrome was definitely the highlight. Together with a load of friends from London we had tickets for the Monday night, one of the final nights in the main competition, in which 6 schools paraded past taking around an hour each, while we danced relentlessly on our chairs along with the rest of the crowd and even tried to sing along to the repeating anthems. While it wasn't as music-focussed as we'd hoped, the costumes and floats completely blew us away: the mile-long parades were full of the most flambouyant and bizarre disguises and contraptions, with thousands and thousands of dancers leading each school. After the parade we tried to get back to Copocabana beach for sunrise but unfortunately were just too late - a sign of a good night out though.

As well as all the carnival activities we managed to drag ourselves out of bed while it was still light to fit in a little bit of sight seeing. The statue of Christ was a bit smaller than any of us had imagined but still great to see up close. A trip to the massive Maracana football stadium to watch a local derby confirmed what we'd been told about a) Brazilians being crazy about football and b) Brazilians being crazy. And a tour to some of the favelas allowed us to see into the darker and sadder side of the city. The police are getting a bit tougher on the favelas and so we didn't see many people toting guns, which anyone who's seen the film City of God (set in one of the smaller Rio favelas which now has a permanent police presence) will know used to be commoneplace. Still, we didn't fancy hanging around there on our own, even though we'd heard that they are hosts of the best parties in town. It was our friend Russ's birthday during carnival week and we planned to go on some sort of boat trip to celebrate - plans for chartering a schooner were dashed by some bad weather, so we settled for the swan paddle boats on the lake instead. With some cans of bubbly called "Glam" and nibbles. Very classy.

Days 226-227

The sad day came when we all went our separate ways from our lovely apartment: Hazel to continue on her travels around South America, having spent the last few months in Central America and Cuba; Gav back to Dubai; and Russ back to London. The drizzle had cleared the air in Rio and cleaned the streets a bit of the post-carnival pee and beer stench, but it was getting hot again and we still had two motorbikes in our care so we headed out to the mountains for the weekend. A beautiful drive just a couple of hours north took us up into a land of cheeseries, honey factories, and sculpture gardens - our last jaunt before working in earnest to get the bikes back to London.

Days 228 - 232

Back in Rio we agreed to go ahead with the one quote we'd managed to get for flying the bikes home - a similar price to the sea freight quote we'd receieved but more importantly we were told we could complete the process in a few days whereas to send the bikes by sea might require up to 15 days of hanging around just to get them through customs. Unfortunately the quote turned out to be more of a guestimate, with extra costs being added on at the last minute for forgotten necessaries, but at least it happened. We arrived back from the mountains on the Monday, checked into a hostel carefully sourced for being able to park our bikes safely outside, and immediately had to get back on the bikes to take them to the crating company - our last ride of the trip. The next day we hoped to do our last bit of sightseeing, as well as finalising things with the airfreight company, but Emily was very ill from what we assumed to be food poisoning, leaving Ric to work out how to get thousands of pounds of cash out in 24 hours - at the last minute we found out that the freight company don't take any form of credit or debit cards! On Wednesday morning we packed our bags, picked up our enormous wodge of bank notes and went to the freight company at 10am to hand over the money. We then accompanied our freight guy to the airport to get the bikes through customs: the last task we needed to complete before we could leave the country. After five hours of our guy altering forms, making photocopies, being told by different people what else he needed, and getting us to sign things, we finally got to the grand finale of taking a customs officer to check the VIN numbers on our bikes and we were free to go - the bikes would follow on a flight the next day.

We dashed to the airport aware that we'd already missed the cheap TAP flight we were hoping to get onto. There were a number of other flights leaving that evening but they were variously full or too many thousands of pounds so after a few hours of toing and froing and hanging around in case people didn't turn up, we headed back into town for the night, and a couple more caiparinhas. First thing on Thursday morning we went to the TAP office to book the evening flight but on our way back to the hostel Ric started to feel funny and rapidly developed symptoms suspiciously similar to Emily's two days previously - it seems what we thought was food poisoning was probably actually a tummy bug. So poor Ric had a miserable flight back to England, but at least he'd pretty much recovered by the time we touched down in London on Friday lunchtime. That evening we had just enough strength to pop down to Softwire's anual 'birthday party' (for those of you who don't know the company we work for, this is the party of the year to go to, second to carnival in Rio of course).

Now we just wait for the bikes! As it turns out they didn't leave the day we did as planned, or the next day as we were later told they would. We think they've left Brazil at the time of writing, but are reserving judgement until we actually see them back in Britain.


Epilogue

The last eight months have been a brilliant adventure for us and so far it's been a great home-coming. We hope you've enjoyed reading our blog - although we can't always say we've rejoiced in the task of writing it, we're sure it'll be a great thing for us to look back on. Thanks in particular to those who've kept us up to date with goings on while we've been away - in particular our Mums, Alice, Lizzie, Katie, and for all those who commented on the blog. Which wasn't many of you compared with the number of people claiming to read it - for the rest of you, now is your last chance! :-)

We'll leave you with some of our favourite trip statistics.

• Expected mileage (before we left): 25,044
• Total miles ridden: 31,370
• Days on the bikes: 180
• Days without setting foot on the bike pegs: 50 (19 of which were in Rio de Janeiro and Quito / Galapagos)
• Days Ric put a plait in Emily's hair: 142 (probably - no she couldn't just learn to do them herself)
• Average daily mileage: 135
• Most miles in one day: 480 (on boring Ruta 3 in Argentina)
• Most miles in a 24-hour period: 685 (racing to meet Ric's Mum in Chile)
• Amount of petrol consumed: about 5 tonnes
• Amount of money consumed: a lot (but it was worth it)
• Highest altitude ridden: 5,046m (South Bolivia)
• Lowest altitude ridden: -9m (Peninsular Vladez, Argentina)
• Hottest riding temperarure: 46C (Arizona, USA)
• Coldest riding temperature: -5C (South Bolivia, but only Emily's bike started)
• Ratio of days in Argentina to number of steaks Ric ate: 1:0.97
• Number of photos taken: 10,678
• Number of bikers we saw before Brazil wearing a pink crash helmet (other than Emily): one (a crazy Australian woman in Argentina)
• Number of bikers we saw in Brazil wearing a pink crash helmet: about a million
• Number of times:
• We got a puncture: 5
• We had to pump the hand pump to get a full tyre of air: 840
• We ran out of petrol: 0
• Ric's bike said it had run out of petrol: 2
  
• Emily dropped her bike: 6
• Ric dropped his bike: 8
• Ric also dropped his bike with Emily on the back: 2
• Ric would have dropped his bike if someone didn't save him: 4
• Emily got Ric to park / manouvre / generally deal with her bike in order to keep her drop rate down: many
• Ric swore from fear of falling off in a very painful / fatal manner (Emily doesn't swear): 30
• Emily cried from fear of falling off in a very painful / fatal manner (Ric doesn't cry): 3, she just grit her teeth and went rather pale the other 27 times
• We got stopped by the authorities: 25
• We got fined by the authorities: 1
• We phoned home: 1 (are we bad children?)

The Road To Rio

Day 215

From our country retreat it was just 100 km to the colonial seaside town of Paraty: a nice easy ride we thought. We started off in sunshine but could see grey clouds in the distance. When it's really hot it's easy to think that the rain is your friend and there's always an initial moment of glee when the temperature drops ten degrees. However, we're back in the tropics now and the rain on this day was good old, sopping wet, thunder and lightening, can't see a thing, tropical rain. We rode through the rain pretty quickly but were soaking wet by the time we reached the end of the tarmac. The 10km of dirt road that led us through a national park from there was in fact marked as such on our map, but we hadn't looked closely enough to notice until we were half way through it. At that point there weren't any more cars trying to navigate the ruts, boulders and steep inclines that were getting worse by the kilometre, leaving us more or less alone to (very slowly) admire the dramatic jungley hills.

Paraty was definitely worth the effort, though, and a lovely place to spend the night: a beautifully preserved town where the relaxed old colonial centre next to the sea is all pedestrianised, making it perfect for strolls and photographs.

Days 216-218

On the morning of day 216 we woke with one goal: get to Rio! After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing to the internet cafe to get in contact with the agency with which we'd booked our flat for carnival, we set off for what should be our last official riding day of the trip. We had stopped mid-way at a petrol station for a drink and a rest when a Brazilian approached us and offered us directions for how to get to our destination in Ipanema in Rio because it was a bit tricky. We had quite a good map of the centre but more info is always better than less when going into a big city so we gladly accepted. As it turned out we would have been lost without them, or at least we wouldn't have managed to find the main highway into town – we were about 20 minutes late as it was but we reckoned we would have been hours late otherwise!

Unfortunately once in Rio we had a frustrating first couple of days trying to sort out the flat we'd booked – because the owner was still living in it! And so we had to spend a couple of nights in a hotel while he moved out. We are now fully installed though, and waiting for our friends who are coming from England to join us. Rio is already growing on us and Ipanema is a fantastic district within it, right next to the beach and near to a lake with stunning scenery and lots of yummy caipirinhas on offer.

The last couple of days of riding hit Ric particularly hard. In what Emily can only assume was a stalling tactic but Ric blames on his still-raw eye following the wasp sting, he dropped his bike three times in the last two days of the trip: once just before leaving the campsite in the country while getting the bike off the centre stand, once whilst telling Emily how bad the next bit off off-road track was in the National Park (by way of demonstration?) and, finally, at the petrol station on the way to Rio while reversing into a parking space. Or maybe it was just a last minute bid to win the “most number of drops” category of the trip which after those three Ric is now leading 8-6!

“Is this the end then?”, “Can we stop checking this blog?”, we hear you cry. Well, not exactly. Despite having started shipping enquiries while in BA we still haven't managed to sort anything out and we're running out of time. We can't book our flights home until we know what day the bikes leave so we're in a bit of a limbo at the moment wondering ourselves when our adventure will really end. One thing's for sure, though, we're going to enjoy a week or more of Rio and her carnival in the meantime...

Water Water Everywhere

Days 205-208

Our first night in Brazil hadn't endeared the country to us that much – an unremarkable town with a lot of concrete and two nice buildings its only excuse for the “historical centre” signs. So we were very relived when our first experience of camping in Brazil turned out to be exceedingly refined. We chose the campsite closest to the town of Canela: a hotel / estancia which allowed camping in the grounds. Two members of staff walked around with us to find a non-swampy site (there had been a heavy downpour recently) and when we found that the best spot had a few of the resident llama's doings, instructed a groundsman to rake it for us. This still wasn't deemed acceptable by our hosts, so we were given a big groundsheet to go under our tent. After checking we had everything we needed a few times Ric was a bit surprised to find them back at the tent ten minutes after we'd pitched – with afternoon tea! As we were enjoying the buffet breakfast the next morning we agreed that “posh camping” is definitely the way forward!

From Canela we visited the waterfalls and canyons of the region. After all the amazing landscapes we've seen we're sadly a bit desensitised to natural beauty at the moment but it was enjoyable none the less. We then headed to the beach, hoping in vain for a cooling sea breeze to temper the ever-increasing heat. The road to the coast was beautiful, winding through the forested hills, but was mostly single carriageway with lots of lorries holding up the traffic. After working our way up to the front of a particularly long queue Ric commented “At least now we should have a good stretch of open road in front of us” - the comment of death because at this Emily's bike started spraying up huge quantities or liquid straight at her visor. It was a bit of a shock, and all Emily could say was“My bike's leaking!” which wasn't the best summary of the situation but she then clarified that she couldn't see where she was going and we pulled over to take a look. The liquid was the engine coolant which was spraying out of the top of the header tank. We noticed this happening a couple of times before the service in BA but not nearly in the same proportions. The mechanic there looked at it, found a bit of air in the cooling system and bled it for us, suggesting it really wasn't anything to worry about. After a bit of investigation we found that there was a lot of air in the system, but no obvious blockages or leaks, so we syphoned the coolant from the header tank, opened the valve to the radiator and filled it up, pouring the little remaining coolant back into the header tank afterwards with a top-up of drinking water. This all happened within a few hours of the beach and although Emily obsessively checked the temperature reading for the rest of the day we arrived safely.

Camping on the beach was a pretty relaxing way to spend a few days, even though it was a little too hot for our liking. We met a lovely Portuguese couple who spoke very little English, but we communicated in a mixture of Spanish, Portuguese, English and sign language. They invited us to join them for a typical barbecue of their region – huge chunks of meat covered in rock salt and cooked on spits – and we had a good few beers together. Unfortunately we still didn't manage to pick up much Portuguese so in desperation have acquired the first few Michel Thomas lessons on mp3. What was obvious, however, was that they're serious about this pronouncing “r” at the beginning of a word as “h”. On introducing himself as Ric this couple (and a number of others since) have said “ah, Hicky!” and called him that from then on. Emily thinks this is rather amusing. Ric does not.

As a break from the beach, we made a day-trip inland to the German-founded town of Blumenau. We hoped it would be cooler there, but it wasn't, and we hoped to see and eat various German things, but we didn't. The architecture and landscape had a slight German egde (they have palm trees in Germany, right?) and we had a nice cold beer, but then quickly headed back to our sunny coastline for a bit more near-deserted beach relaxation.

Days 209-212

Our next major stop of interest was to be the Iguacu Falls, a 400-mile detour to the west of our main route and of the nearest big city, Curtiba where we rode to from the beach. In light of Emily's coolant problem, her chain already looking worn, the price of petrol in Brazil and the number of tolls on the highways, we decided just to take Ric's bike to the falls. It was definitely worth the long day of riding each way to see the sheer amount of moving water in Iguacu. It's not just one big waterfall but a series of thundering falls, immense amounts of spray, and spectacular jungle vegetation all around. We had a great day seeing the falls from all angles – the Brazilian side, the Argentinian side, from walkways above and a boat below (where we got rather wet). Ric then had to take on the gargantuan task of sorting through the hundreds of photos we took!

Days 213-214

On the journey east from Curtiba we felt pleased about the decision we'd made with the bikes – the spraying coolant issue was persisting and we needed to bleed the cooling system every 100 miles or so. The chain also needed tightening again and is getting to the end of it's life, but we're loath to change it before getting the proper sprockets on the bike. It's only a couple more hundred miles to get all the way to Rio so hopefully we'll make it! (The story of the lost sprockets is a sad one: when we got to BA the bloomin' post office had returned the package to the senders, Dan and Jacquie, who were no longer where they'd posted them from of course, because it hadn't been collected within 10 days. We thought we'd have 30 days as you do for international Poste Restante, and the post office hadn't told Dan and Jacquie anything different. It's annoying for everyone but we've put it down to just “one of those things”.)

We successfully navigated ourselves right through the big city of Sao Paolo and into the hills where we finally found some slightly cooler weather in a country campsite / retreat with a sleepy farm-like atmosphere. People-wise it was very quiet: we were the only guests! The only thing to break the peaceful days was Ric screaming like a girl when he was stung on the eyebrow by an evil wasp. But wildlife-wise the evenings were very noisy with a veritable cacophony radiating from the woods and ponds (hear video below).

The riding in Brazil has so far been great, and it'll be a shame for it to all end in Rio. In this final country we've travelled along twisty coastal roads, through jungle-covered hills (though not the mighty Amazon jungle, of course), green rolling farmland not unlike Europe, and varying conurbations ranging from little truck stops to enormous sprawling metropolises. But there have been challenges to the ride: as well as the heavy traffic and sometimes crazy drivers, the biggest issue for us has been the stifling heat. The riding temperature has often been up around 40°C and humid, and very rarely has it dropped below 30°C. It's not the hottest we've had (Arizona) or the most humid (Mexico) but it is pretty relentless and we've found ourselves seeking out air conditioned sanctuaries wherever possible.