tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48061160274081631392024-03-18T20:25:37.258-07:00Ric & Emily Biking The AmericasOur aim is to travel from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska - the Northernmost road in the world - all the way down to Ushuaia - the Southernmost road in the world.
We start in Anchorage, Alaska in July, and hope to finish it by riding back up to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, just in time for Carnival to finish the trip in style.Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-69791582650296550602010-02-28T09:33:00.000-08:002010-03-03T14:33:44.532-08:00The Grand FinaleDays 219-225<br /><div class="gmail_quote"><br /></div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote">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. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYsvlVKGBMSCIvjLiRpo6N6PPXYjssEMmDxquMZ8Wde7ZJkWUt-NX-96zO71PLeYS7ofo0Oe_0zRaHijPcwV1d9-rqblbzZ3O1i-a6U4Tt4mFtJQh_HmptRe7FMkPKDGEcliyxN8HlaOk/s1600-h/DSC_0250.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYsvlVKGBMSCIvjLiRpo6N6PPXYjssEMmDxquMZ8Wde7ZJkWUt-NX-96zO71PLeYS7ofo0Oe_0zRaHijPcwV1d9-rqblbzZ3O1i-a6U4Tt4mFtJQh_HmptRe7FMkPKDGEcliyxN8HlaOk/s320/DSC_0250.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443350453370942354" border="0" /></a>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.<br /><br /></div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnRNfYUAl__gtStqot_8mxw3Gb9TWehAz0n-HHMtEj7cwHtnYP-mgrY2JRKDMxgQc9fvxX75G_N4vXj1bBNw-OXs276M4jnKF2VNYkKceRIVaTn-9BbTYGZN6_n4DR_chyphenhyphen6oSoEKvBT6k/s1600-h/DSC_0437.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnRNfYUAl__gtStqot_8mxw3Gb9TWehAz0n-HHMtEj7cwHtnYP-mgrY2JRKDMxgQc9fvxX75G_N4vXj1bBNw-OXs276M4jnKF2VNYkKceRIVaTn-9BbTYGZN6_n4DR_chyphenhyphen6oSoEKvBT6k/s320/DSC_0437.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443351645595170402" border="0" /></a>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.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote">Days 226-227<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-s2iPUwHW-96cULeun_mC4q-dQNMXBa_33xVaN25F3rfOcyRHVDic8wTZVI6s7qcda-fWtQQocwwxEC7IOgg3MvPwf6GLS04-r4Wu-AvM3nMcCpFe3vTvyKlQwoXCpqm4sdsUH57JWThJ/s1600-h/DSC_0606.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 165px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-s2iPUwHW-96cULeun_mC4q-dQNMXBa_33xVaN25F3rfOcyRHVDic8wTZVI6s7qcda-fWtQQocwwxEC7IOgg3MvPwf6GLS04-r4Wu-AvM3nMcCpFe3vTvyKlQwoXCpqm4sdsUH57JWThJ/s320/DSC_0606.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443355343231259778" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote">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.<br /><br /><br /></div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote">Days 228 - 232</div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote"><br />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.<br /><br /></div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote">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).<br /><br /></div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote">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 <i>think </i>they've left Brazil at the time of writing, but are reserving judgement until we actually see them back in Britain.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Epilogue</span><br /><br /></div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote">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! :-)<br /><br /></div> <div class="gmail_quote"> </div> <div class="gmail_quote">We'll leave you with some of our favourite trip statistics.</div> <div class="gmail_quote"> <ul><li>Expected mileage (before we left): 25,044</li><li>Total miles ridden: 31,370</li><li>Days on the bikes: 180</li><li>Days without setting foot on the bike pegs: 50 (19 of which were in Rio de Janeiro and Quito / Galapagos)</li><li>Days Ric put a plait in Emily's hair: 142 (probably - no she couldn't just learn to do them herself)</li><li>Average daily mileage: 135</li><li>Most miles in one day: 480 (on boring Ruta 3 in Argentina)</li><li>Most miles in a 24-hour period: 685 (racing to meet Ric's Mum in Chile)</li><li>Amount of petrol consumed: about 5 tonnes</li><li>Amount of money consumed: a lot (but it was worth it)</li><li>Highest altitude ridden: 5,046m (South Bolivia)</li><li>Lowest altitude ridden: -9m (Peninsular Vladez, Argentina)</li><li>Hottest riding temperarure: 46C (Arizona, USA)</li><li>Coldest riding temperature: -5C (South Bolivia, but only Emily's bike started)</li><li>Ratio of days in Argentina to number of steaks Ric ate: 1:0.97</li><li>Number of photos taken: 10,678</li><li>Number of bikers we saw before Brazil wearing a pink crash helmet (other than Emily): one (a crazy Australian woman in Argentina)</li><li>Number of bikers we saw in Brazil wearing a pink crash helmet: about a million</li><li>Number of times:</li><ul><li>We got a puncture: 5</li><li>We had to pump the hand pump to get a full tyre of air: 840</li><li>We ran out of petrol: 0</li><li>Ric's bike said it had run out of petrol: 2<br /></li><li>Emily dropped her bike: 6</li><li>Ric dropped his bike: 8</li><li>Ric also dropped his bike with Emily on the back: 2</li><li>Ric would have dropped his bike if someone didn't save him: 4</li><li>Emily got Ric to park / manouvre / generally deal with her bike in order to keep her drop rate down: many</li><li>Ric swore from fear of falling off in a very painful / fatal manner (Emily doesn't swear): 30</li><li>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</li><li>We got stopped by the authorities: 25</li><li>We got fined by the authorities: 1</li><li>We phoned home: 1 (are we bad children?)</li></ul></ul></div>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-17005483945117542672010-02-13T11:40:00.000-08:002010-02-13T11:57:26.452-08:00The Road To RioDay 215 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">From our country retreat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnYSBdHYCs8-zVmD9F5KEj2uPatn3ZP8tFOI5lAgsC2H7QXwxJ8CHeqQYjkfeW5KKUJWgG8hrF2sRsZFD4zGuS7mcwjmJ6njuH9vQBCRiIttX2P0Wo_xlbpso4KzJ88hcW43Emz6cU0LDn/s1600-h/IMG_2719.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnYSBdHYCs8-zVmD9F5KEj2uPatn3ZP8tFOI5lAgsC2H7QXwxJ8CHeqQYjkfeW5KKUJWgG8hrF2sRsZFD4zGuS7mcwjmJ6njuH9vQBCRiIttX2P0Wo_xlbpso4KzJ88hcW43Emz6cU0LDn/s320/IMG_2719.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437816121603980578" border="0" /></a> 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.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Paraty <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU96GKyrlrNnQ222i4IOhDWpYmI3oOfxx_NNhymsG5HNVILB2TsPPcvG5ErbV5FcnbI9LUDb869SlZP4UqdwUicTMTJ0M18Brd28dXK-h0CPBM6TJwZEi5cdxOKox3hF-AJqOyI2pFtGv-/s1600-h/DSC_0636.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU96GKyrlrNnQ222i4IOhDWpYmI3oOfxx_NNhymsG5HNVILB2TsPPcvG5ErbV5FcnbI9LUDb869SlZP4UqdwUicTMTJ0M18Brd28dXK-h0CPBM6TJwZEi5cdxOKox3hF-AJqOyI2pFtGv-/s320/DSC_0636.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437819373404701570" border="0" /></a>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. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /><br /><br /><br />Days 216-218</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">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!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Unfortunately once in Rio we had <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Y-FudpDu2vc9N6NMGqkg63-Lyf4rqruQlTFrFGup-issE3EmZ0293bALxrN2KikF9q-YRSz9OjhA4oec3YuQpKTN4cLIc78Xpj8At8m87BG4nLwEH3A-loXvePf8mdrVFjM4p-K43MMk/s1600-h/DSC_0658.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Y-FudpDu2vc9N6NMGqkg63-Lyf4rqruQlTFrFGup-issE3EmZ0293bALxrN2KikF9q-YRSz9OjhA4oec3YuQpKTN4cLIc78Xpj8At8m87BG4nLwEH3A-loXvePf8mdrVFjM4p-K43MMk/s320/DSC_0658.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437818550124865122" border="0" /></a>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.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">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?<span style="font-style: normal;">) 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!</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“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...</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-47601843358177970942010-02-10T13:50:00.000-08:002010-02-10T15:25:16.861-08:00Water Water EverywhereDays 205-208 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">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!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVR__yfiWOPqGKNSY4P0eDg5UUEV2OFc8pYkUe2fZHoTonBibtjtdNWprA7K_ahhu4VgiNJ78agQes8zojSF-IpTGzR7jrPSMP2KsudBe7I81yT1NNQiy7324MM98ZgdZQtzjQGgUxfacG/s1600-h/DSC_0125.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVR__yfiWOPqGKNSY4P0eDg5UUEV2OFc8pYkUe2fZHoTonBibtjtdNWprA7K_ahhu4VgiNJ78agQes8zojSF-IpTGzR7jrPSMP2KsudBe7I81yT1NNQiy7324MM98ZgdZQtzjQGgUxfacG/s320/DSC_0125.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436740060994857298" border="0" /></a>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.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">C<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYJNFyKsdpF_U4QvZWZitnOBnpyB9lMEdCv1pwTLi0jDyFEZ-bO_El1q_TsMmoBb0UyJSZsYMwxuvo9ER3IiOYaFV_sA4pno5LZm-urO8Xvjp1_huPdKGaUzN8sw9yqRChheYYeJsxkQ_L/s1600-h/DSC_0173.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYJNFyKsdpF_U4QvZWZitnOBnpyB9lMEdCv1pwTLi0jDyFEZ-bO_El1q_TsMmoBb0UyJSZsYMwxuvo9ER3IiOYaFV_sA4pno5LZm-urO8Xvjp1_huPdKGaUzN8sw9yqRChheYYeJsxkQ_L/s320/DSC_0173.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436742743731741410" border="0" /></a>amping 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.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">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.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 209-212</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">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!</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitH6gjz1ncRhy_uzVJdZspXLkVO1JC_ul9yLO9fP2k9TR16ZyNVa4IAKQSt-tx7naAFe1XqV8tJlpjjENBn251n_ncweMrUNeKupwyUWinBo0J_oS0rpwslK9gT5vBt-PezSQD4rAkwXdP/s1600-h/DSC_0432_cropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 155px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitH6gjz1ncRhy_uzVJdZspXLkVO1JC_ul9yLO9fP2k9TR16ZyNVa4IAKQSt-tx7naAFe1XqV8tJlpjjENBn251n_ncweMrUNeKupwyUWinBo0J_oS0rpwslK9gT5vBt-PezSQD4rAkwXdP/s400/DSC_0432_cropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436741600683053970" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 213-214</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">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”.)</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">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).</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='174' height='70' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxIwAICWW3S0dO4LCN7RE5l7I4uHXHJdSko7oYChXqkNoxrdCgHbf3GrEu9kxvJuem4urdAVpaVpwlUrhEBbw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">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<span style="font-family:Times New Roman,serif;">°</span>C and humid, and very rarely has it dropped below 30<span style="font-family:Times New Roman,serif;">°</span>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.</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-87407337400280265632010-01-30T16:47:00.000-08:002010-01-30T16:58:10.821-08:00New Clothes, New Mount, New LanguageDays 196-199 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It came to our attention recently that when we get to Rio for carnival we will want to have some clothes that aren't completely travel-weary. This is how the shopping spree in Buenos Aires started. Having found way more nice, cheap, original clothes than we could ever justify buying, and Emily having bought most of them anyway, we needed a new bag to put them in. Unfortunately that left room for a splurge at the antiques and artisan markets. We then picked up the motorbikes from their service along with a huge bill and so once we'd booked the rather pricey ferry to Colonia in Uruguay we were really done – Buenos Aires has to have been the most expensive city stop for us so far. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdFrytM0lN_rM9eGdfKvkhpNsEkvpOGRZBghymG40J85O7q35-a6C_svxhfoKuRyw10KLjoxo1bdnYXGQH4UodojxAgw_6b8inOXUZIb2cYgGeMQZWmZtdG5mGG1sAOnXWPsDhu70UPai/s1600-h/DSC_1714.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdFrytM0lN_rM9eGdfKvkhpNsEkvpOGRZBghymG40J85O7q35-a6C_svxhfoKuRyw10KLjoxo1bdnYXGQH4UodojxAgw_6b8inOXUZIb2cYgGeMQZWmZtdG5mGG1sAOnXWPsDhu70UPai/s320/DSC_1714.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432700376637038738" border="0" /></a>Buenos Aires isn't just one big shopping centre though, it's also the birthplace of Tango (the dance, not the drink) and as well as there being lots of Tango shows, mainly for tourists, there are lots of “melongas” (music and dance nights) for the locals. After being inspired by a show one night, the next day we had some bad luck trying to get to a class and melonga in a dancehall, but happened across a small open air melonga in a plaza and really wished we knew how to join in!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 200-202</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Our entry into Uruguay was rather relaxed - they waved us straight through off the one-hour ferry from BA to beautiful colonial Colonia, so we had to go back to hunt down the customs office... which turned out to be the back of the custom guy's car. It was air-conditioned though so we weren't complaining!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvGPFswNzPxyFEo6XIXjPRhzE2SCFB-p03527rsgV7OnEcKI_7rCZ5MbKp6vSmnbK2dIT1t6BUcR2elzjTqrSkmNINagtZvrVpX2s5M3A9fgbT3y3liFXcWLo8-gsFyWYp5hYVuIynI-_/s1600-h/IMG_2709.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvGPFswNzPxyFEo6XIXjPRhzE2SCFB-p03527rsgV7OnEcKI_7rCZ5MbKp6vSmnbK2dIT1t6BUcR2elzjTqrSkmNINagtZvrVpX2s5M3A9fgbT3y3liFXcWLo8-gsFyWYp5hYVuIynI-_/s320/IMG_2709.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432700723215969618" border="0" /></a>From the coast we rode inland into the heart of Uruguay – cowboy country. Driving in southern South America we'd passed loads of estancias: ranches that cover much of the land, many of which have adopted a bit of ecotourism alongside the farming. Since we were soon to be leaving them behind as we got into the more populous areas of Brazil we figured we really should pay one a visit. All we wanted was a horse ride but we decided to go all the way and so stayed at San Pedro de Timote, a beautiful old place with numerous buildings (including its own stand-alone chapel), lovely rolling grounds, and lots of communal areas for relaxing and playing games, including no less than three swimming pools. Obviously we made full use of the facilities and after a day of horse riding, visitng a nearby cheese factory, tennis, table tennis, table football and swimming we were pretty sore (we haven't done much except sit on the bikes recently!) but managed to console ourselves with the fantastic buffet and a nice bottle of red.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 203-204</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">From the estancia we rode to the Brazilian border feeling quite excited about reaching the last country on our trip. We did all the border work in Uruguay no problem and rode into Brazil expecting to see some signs of border control but there were none. We managed to find the police station where immigration is done but even they didn't seem to know where customs was. After a lot of complicated asking around we eventually tracked it down and our suspicions that not many motorbikes come through this way were confirmed when both the receptionist and the security guard asked to have their photos taken with us! We were then taken to a nice comfy office to do the paperwork with a man who spoke neither Spanish nor English, just Portuguese. We do not speak Portuguese, but we were all pretty good at Pictionary and this helped the process immensely. While the officer was finishing off the paperwork we decided to make a start on working out this new language. And quickly gave up. It looks like Spanish so we can understand a lot of the written word but it sounds like dutch (the double variety) and even having read the little language guide in our guidebook we have no idea how to pronounce it. Apparently “restaurante” is pronounced <i>hess-to-roch</i><span style="font-style: normal;">. Enough said.</span><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-style: normal;">A lack of ability to communicate continued to be the main theme of our first few days in Brazil. Everything from filling up with petrol to getting directions to ordering food is proving to be quite a challenge, but fortunately the Brazilians are a nice enough bunch. And being on two big motorbikes and answering “Alaska” to the second question everybody asks (“England” is the answer to the first) is continuing our celebrity status, so people do like to get involved. Generally that's a good thing, and we don't mind the odd photo being taken of us by petrol attendants etc, but it was a bit much when someone took a video of us with his mobile phone whilst overtaking us on the motorway!</span></p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-3225160954953492562010-01-23T05:05:00.000-08:002010-01-23T05:36:50.392-08:00A New DirectionDays 185 – 187 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Our last act before leaving Ushuaia was to throw a stone that we collected from the Arctic Ocean back in to the sea. Actually we think Ric may have missed the sea, but reckon it'll get washed in at high tide! Then began the long journey north on Ruta 3 – quite possibly the most boring road. In the world.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As well as being very boring, we knew Ruta 3 would also be fast, and that we'd be covering a lot of miles in a short time – a task that Emily's rear tyre was certainly not up to. We'd looked for a new one before we got to Ushuaia in the Chilean city of Punta Arenas and, after trekking round about ten shops, each one recommending the next, had come across a mechanic that we'd heard of on our travels who knew how to get hold of tyres for big bikes (though he doesn't keep any in stock). He told us that we could get one in Rio Gallegos on our way back up through Argentina, and so, after riding through Chile for the fifth and final time to get out of Tierra del Fuego we arrived in the city with high hopes. We found the motorbike shop and indeed they even had a selection of tyres for us to choose from. As it was so well stocked we also asked about a new rear sprocket. We had sprockets waiting for us in Buenes Aires which Jacquie kindly brought back from England for us, but the old one was really on its last legs. We guessed they wouldn't have the right one for Emily's bike as not even BMW has that one, but thought it was worth a try. They didn't, and we were ready to drop the matter, but then they took a look at the bike and realised the gravity of the situation. They were very concerned that the sprocket wouldn't make it to BA and didn't want to let us continue as we were, so they started searching their sprocket pile all over again, this time to find something that could be machined to fit. It was a tricky decision – the sprocket had done 24,000 miles and had only 2,000 miles to go, but we decided that the risk of having an accident and being stranded in the middle of nowhere was too high, so when they found something that would work we went for it. The new sprocket has a couple more teeth which means Emily's bike has 5% better acceleration – woohoo! – but uses a bit more fuel (though still not as much as Ric's bike...).<br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 188 – 192<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_v8JUzJVW3Oj-sqK1fLQ9GoyLVmbRbU5ZHg40dPr9uHJmAkOl90snJCqDBnLoatZcEmyT4Oir_JP5tzYuACEUCM5I8jDZxmjcgqGnEHh6lilOepU7IPq7s5WesXS8v_IyfZJq5Fdedvi/s1600-h/DSC_1364_cropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_v8JUzJVW3Oj-sqK1fLQ9GoyLVmbRbU5ZHg40dPr9uHJmAkOl90snJCqDBnLoatZcEmyT4Oir_JP5tzYuACEUCM5I8jDZxmjcgqGnEHh6lilOepU7IPq7s5WesXS8v_IyfZJq5Fdedvi/s320/DSC_1364_cropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429922912326442290" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">To get an idea of Ruta 3, picture a long straight road over flat terrain. Imagine just shrubs and grasses on either side, as far as you can see, without a tree, river, lake, hill or any other landmark in sight. Now add a 40-60mph constant crosswind. Apart from a few more guanacos and nandus there is really nothing to break the tedium on the road as you're motoring along at a raked angle to fend off the wind. So to give ourselves a few breaks we made some diversions off the highway, figuring the extra few hundred miles was worth it.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdO4nKCROsgELhb4KGBbie077kiRADbWunPjGDH_VEzgxRh1JYcxWxGIMCFi2hQX_nkno7TWT-MfDmVlnplpU-O0N-3EPt3_Y1iDOTVmTA9MX1pO2hGO5WKfGvXHNEfxduUQv6KTojDv3N/s1600-h/DSC_1458.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdO4nKCROsgELhb4KGBbie077kiRADbWunPjGDH_VEzgxRh1JYcxWxGIMCFi2hQX_nkno7TWT-MfDmVlnplpU-O0N-3EPt3_Y1iDOTVmTA9MX1pO2hGO5WKfGvXHNEfxduUQv6KTojDv3N/s320/DSC_1458.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429924927169747250" border="0" /></a>We took a boat trip from Puerto Deseado to nearby “Penguin Island” – the only place outside the Falkland Islands (or Islas Malvinas to all Argentinians; a topic of conversation we tried to avoid) where you can see the very funky Rockhopper penguins, along with the usual Magellanic penguins, sea lions, elephant seals (enormous blubbery things weighing up to 5 tons!) and lots of sea birds that can be seen all along the Patagonian coastline. Ric also spotted some Commerson's dolphins (black and white ones) from the boat (Emily just saw a splash) and we were both lucky enough to spot a whale despite it being totally out of season for them.</p><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eAHe-SkyfsmI6zRf4Z52-ZD023jrajWVNGf_7RFsyjsvElm39XSngjP_tWwzmRfx71gnKyJ3gzjvf1Kkoup1ZWR1qWtKE1DL-i0mENyckG9Wxg4z5HpQiwg3rfjpHnNhSx-eWBsWH4m3/s1600-h/DSC_1584.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eAHe-SkyfsmI6zRf4Z52-ZD023jrajWVNGf_7RFsyjsvElm39XSngjP_tWwzmRfx71gnKyJ3gzjvf1Kkoup1ZWR1qWtKE1DL-i0mENyckG9Wxg4z5HpQiwg3rfjpHnNhSx-eWBsWH4m3/s320/DSC_1584.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429927073005864066" border="0" /></a>The next side trip was to see a petrified forest. We'd passed signs to a few of these along the way but this was the first we actually managed to visit. It was a bit unusual in that it wasn't a standing forest but a whole load of washed up tree trunks: the rivers that washed them up were long gone, and the wood had since been petrified. Of course we didn't even consider putting any petrified wood chips in our pockets, so we weren't at all concerned when the park ranger made us empty them out at the end. (!)</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />The final detour was to Peninsular Valdez to see a bit more wildlife. Again we were lucky enough to see a rare sight for the time of year – Orcas! They swam by just past the shore full of sea lions that we were watching from. Much to Ric's disappointment, though, we didn't see any beach themselves to try to catch the sea lion pups.</p><br /><br />Days 193-195 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zPSB5DsBtE2_Sx0HI1F5VJAUpUlYLHfGqBVgC5hah976NudC_Rvc8yaexTbuu3LfeanzGB4Ux_C2tDVxzd3fa2i6M2Sq4adYS7ygA6KeHYJhSYygTbSTfB6RZ9AUP380iwe_hpmS6ugq/s1600-h/DSC_1640.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zPSB5DsBtE2_Sx0HI1F5VJAUpUlYLHfGqBVgC5hah976NudC_Rvc8yaexTbuu3LfeanzGB4Ux_C2tDVxzd3fa2i6M2Sq4adYS7ygA6KeHYJhSYygTbSTfB6RZ9AUP380iwe_hpmS6ugq/s320/DSC_1640.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429927678197673698" border="0" /></a>The push north continued to Buenos Aires with a couple of beach stops, one to view masses of parrots, the other to view masses (and we mean <i>masses</i>) of people in Argentina's favourite beach destination Mar del Plata. Think Brighton on the hottest day of the year in England, then triple it and you're still not even starting to get close.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Our journey up from Ushuaia has taken us from cold and rainy to hot and sunny – a change we like. We've also suddenly got lots of time for the rest of our trip up to Rio, since we haven't needed too much of our 'emergency time' thus far, so we're looking forward to a relaxed next few weeks!</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-19603245020231515672010-01-09T15:21:00.000-08:002010-01-09T16:07:02.963-08:00The End Of The World, As We Know It<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-7AkGXOUM9AccFhKJCyXbA4xD4qs3UoCr-7Ji_Fp7rMmacvLA4uidbKCCO-NstKnZDc-_S-agVTs7T0urDEGyTCn3YhkCBDOqAiKa9weqxQGWrKVS_R9DI-7Xmj2dK4cFVBmWXxYzIfT/s1600-h/DSC_1114_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-7AkGXOUM9AccFhKJCyXbA4xD4qs3UoCr-7Ji_Fp7rMmacvLA4uidbKCCO-NstKnZDc-_S-agVTs7T0urDEGyTCn3YhkCBDOqAiKa9weqxQGWrKVS_R9DI-7Xmj2dK4cFVBmWXxYzIfT/s320/DSC_1114_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424891964561839346" border="0" /></a>Days 179-181 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">After a few days on Ruta 40 the gravel finally gave way to tarmac, and we celebrated with a walk around the spectacular Fitz Roy range. Mount Fitz Roy itself is covered in clouds so much of the time that it was thought to be a volcano giving off smoke (the nearest town is named “Smoking Mountain” in the local language) so we were really lucky to have a bright sunny day affording us fantastic views of the mountains and glaciers.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51ViI7m8fg0CiDq0LEdxm-kCYVGLNsLeTvbNy65xTUtaIR-ucBZpVraEP-4vlvcdI8AANJQIrRILPBYtcNkwopbwF6GCP9_Wrsf3DiHZkrM7nS1QL5bg_ZDQDqwLntEU_d61DFrYGmq1B/s1600-h/DSC_1228_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51ViI7m8fg0CiDq0LEdxm-kCYVGLNsLeTvbNy65xTUtaIR-ucBZpVraEP-4vlvcdI8AANJQIrRILPBYtcNkwopbwF6GCP9_Wrsf3DiHZkrM7nS1QL5bg_ZDQDqwLntEU_d61DFrYGmq1B/s320/DSC_1228_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424892910707944546" border="0" /></a>From Fitz Roy we headed to nearby El Calafate, the base for the mighty Perito Moreno Glacier. This glacier is enormous (the fourth largest body of fresh water in the world, apparently) and great fun to watch - the face of the glacier is changing all the time as bits crack off and land with a reverberating crash into the lake beneath. As far as glaciers go it's really fast-moving at 2m per day, and you can get really close from the viewing platforms on land and by boat on the lake.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Since we hit Ruta 40 we've been meeting a lot more bikers and El Calafate was no exception – four other long-distance biking parties were at our campsite (including two Triumphs both with sidecars, travelling separately) and we had a good time sharing stories and tips for the road. The increased volume of motorcycle adventurers does make our trip feel a bit normal at times, though!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 182-183</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Break over, we hit the road again and crossed back into Chile, with soaring condors offering a new distraction from the familiar side winds. Controversially we decided against going to the acclaimed Torres Del Paine national park due to time shortage, the price tag, and Ric's newly dodgy knee (acquired on the Fitz Roy trek – he's getting old, you know). One for next time, perhaps; it looked beautiful from a distance.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Instead we travelled straight to the ferry terminus of Punto Arenas in order to cross the Straights of Magallen and get onto Tierra del Fuego the following day. On the ferry we met yet more bikers, a group of Italians who we'd heard about from our German friends, but we left them for dust when we left the ferry – literally: a very dusty road led us back to Argentina and to the tarmac of Ruta 3 which we road all the way to Ushuaia. Yes, that's Ushuaia – the southernmost city in the world!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />Day 184</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The actual end of the road is a bit beyond Ushuaia in Tierra Del Fuego national park, so on day 184, six months to the day since we landed in Alaska, we hopped on the bikes and did the short journey to the end of the world, “Fin Del Mundo” as it's called here.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnyte9j20sauVJWxoJPMvEFseugokND-INhBKSrLmykJ2W1N5g7PJAkMwQp9qyIesfjjJtFOudhOja8ccKODZAzLz_aLcsPB3lpqoNbvtIEcXc5E49zapH3xXFjhuQkTXfDK8fbhHh_m5/s1600-h/DSC_1306_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnyte9j20sauVJWxoJPMvEFseugokND-INhBKSrLmykJ2W1N5g7PJAkMwQp9qyIesfjjJtFOudhOja8ccKODZAzLz_aLcsPB3lpqoNbvtIEcXc5E49zapH3xXFjhuQkTXfDK8fbhHh_m5/s320/DSC_1306_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424894632481953730" border="0" /></a></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We waited for a group of tourists to leave before getting our bikes in front of the official sign, at which point of course another big group of tourists arrived. They were very obliging and took our photo for us, and then, obviously realising how cool we looked, a few people asked if they could pose with our bikes. Naturally we agreed and a few people had a go, but while we were being distracted by other people asking us about the trip a rather vertically challenged lady with, presumably, very little knowledge of gravity clambered onto Ric's bike and sat straight up on it. With no hope of touching the ground on either side to hold the bike steady it was only a moment before the bike fell off the side stand and onto the ground. The fun was over for the tourists – we had the bikes out of there quick smart! (The lady and the bike were fine, just a bit of dirt on the former, and a slightly more misshapen pannier on the latter.)</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So now we've made it all the way from Alaska to Ushuaia it should be an easy hop, skip and a jump to get back up to Rio de Janeiro for carnival in around five weeks time. Emily's reinforced pannier rack is still going strong with only a tiny bit more dirt road to go, but we do need a new tyre reasonably urgently now, the Garmin GPS has suddenly become very temperamental, and we can't pick up Emily's new sprockets until Buenos Aires. Watch this space!</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-69439356155489412010-01-04T15:50:00.000-08:002010-01-05T05:52:56.086-08:00New Year, New ChallengesDays 171-172 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3g0VjjZ9vZWFGbcpYkBHo7VxXGdiySFWR5mmZvRCnDeFJ00-VOC_v7guM_mkKFgH2JiTnP4kQjnJDgWPugO7r_-rRo5HSFshPrp558aTfBnW5bMXaEQOrKvNp7gegFL9zK_eCl0lAuWI/s1600-h/DSC_0633.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3g0VjjZ9vZWFGbcpYkBHo7VxXGdiySFWR5mmZvRCnDeFJ00-VOC_v7guM_mkKFgH2JiTnP4kQjnJDgWPugO7r_-rRo5HSFshPrp558aTfBnW5bMXaEQOrKvNp7gegFL9zK_eCl0lAuWI/s320/DSC_0633.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423247879761716034" border="0" /></a>We were sad to say goodbye to Jill as she drove off in her transfer to the airport but knew we had to gear up for the next part of our trip – getting to the bottom of South America! We rode back into Argentina (crossing between Chile and Argentina will be an ongoing theme all the way down) and down “seven lakes road” - a beautiful stretch featuring at least seven lakes which were only marred by a little bit of rain. We continued south to the winter ski resort of Bariloche where we tried to stop for the day but found the first few hostels full and were a little put off by rain, so just bought the obligatory chocolate from the one of a multitude of chocolatiers and carried on to the smaller and more chilled out town of El Bolson. One good reason for stopping there was the market the following day where only handmade goods are allowed. The list of things that Emily would have bought had Ric allowed them on the bike (this list started with a coffee table in Valparaiso) grew dramatically but we escaped with only a new ring and a few yummy empanadas to weigh us down.<br /><br /><br />Days 173-175 </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">From the Argentinian Lake District w<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZ4vwaJoG7xvODqoXieJU2kN1ZOmjFBYES2y39JGPPV92H5OY_uzWQtpIYHmTrfzSoP_sq9WqHY87yK510lZPr3NZ7KeLJ8ydEaf1MxQ1TboMf3OEMlsb4itIs3pzG9yJQPsREHDfKEQ_/s1600-h/DSC_0984_straightened.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 207px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZ4vwaJoG7xvODqoXieJU2kN1ZOmjFBYES2y39JGPPV92H5OY_uzWQtpIYHmTrfzSoP_sq9WqHY87yK510lZPr3NZ7KeLJ8ydEaf1MxQ1TboMf3OEMlsb4itIs3pzG9yJQPsREHDfKEQ_/s320/DSC_0984_straightened.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423249741337272002" border="0" /></a>e breached the official border to Patagonia and crossed back into Chile, so that we could ride the Carretera Austral – the road that Pinochet carved out to connect Southern Chile, famed for it's beauty (and it's rough surface as it remains mostly unpaved). And it was indeed beautiful: lush green woodland and pastureland backed by dramatic snowy mountains and dotted throughout with tranquil lakes and rushing rivers. It was most beautiful, though, when the clouds weren't obscuring the view, which unfortunately was less often than we'd hoped. Emily recalled that she learned in geography lessons at school that Chile has a similar climate to England. Arriving to Chile in the middle of the desert we were slightly dubious of this assertion, but after experiencing mid-summer in the lake district and further south we understand better – we had rain most days and temperatures ranging from 10 to 15 C, so it really does feel like home!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">While riding on the Carretera Austral on the second day we saw some motorbikes pulled over at the roadside taking some photos and decided to stop for a quick chat. As we pulled up we realised it was none other than the German couple Christoph and Silke who we met in Peru! We had kept in touch with them but had thought they would be ahead of us on this stretch. We rode with them this day and the next, New Year's Eve, when we found a beautiful and inexpensive cabana on the lakeshore of Lago General Carrera to spend the evening. A trip to the “supermarket” in the very small town revealed we should have planned a bit ahead, but we cobbled together a very nice meal, improved by good pisco sours, nice wine, and cheapy bubbly to bring in the New Year!<br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 176-178</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">On New Year's Day morning we all went on a boat trip out on the lake to look at some marble caves, and then after a lengthy breakfast (we cooked pancakes as there was no bread in town!) we set off, parting ways 100km down the road. We skirted round the lake in lovely weather and crossed back into Argentina.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Once over the border we rejoined Ruta 40, another famed road, about half paved, with vast distances of empty Patagonian wilderness, lots of gravel, and hellish winds, and of which our guidebook says “Just be thankful you didn't set out on a bike or motorcycle.” Hmm. The riding conditions really aren't great: you're riding in a thin tyre track which has gravel piled up on each side – the wind blows and blows, trying to push you into the gravel bank on one side and then the one on the other. The wind also reduces the range of both bikes and the gas stations are pretty spread out. Added to this there's always the risk that you'll arrive at a fuel stop to find no fuel... as we did in middle-of-nowhere gas stop Bajo Caracoles. “The tanker didn't come” explained the attendant, “We think it might come tomorrow night”. Thankfully, however, some Germans with a big spare fuel tank who were camping next to us helped us out, otherwise we might still be there waiting.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHajRi2Glq5Nzhe_qsvINFlEbS_AeptUrTFz0nNi8CnQBmxUscPEWOX4PjCeUnG1TmOjjLQ-viu1XrAFZRzWhcypyQLEcs56DvtXRYbfZ0sb6jFndPr4K3eAK_NwLbc5ZcuxNCiXDRaX8F/s1600-h/IMG_2698.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHajRi2Glq5Nzhe_qsvINFlEbS_AeptUrTFz0nNi8CnQBmxUscPEWOX4PjCeUnG1TmOjjLQ-viu1XrAFZRzWhcypyQLEcs56DvtXRYbfZ0sb6jFndPr4K3eAK_NwLbc5ZcuxNCiXDRaX8F/s320/IMG_2698.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423252477733775538" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We spread the love the following day when we found some guys with KTMs on the side of the road. One of them had a broken chain and they didn't have all the tools they needed to fix it, so Ric's “ridiculously oversized” (according to Emily) tool bag saved the day.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The road wasn't all just wind and gravel, though. As well as stopping at some interesting 9,000 year old cave art, we also saw some funky wildlife: guanacos (llama-like deer), nandus (emu-like birds) and even a small armadillo all crossed the road in front of us.</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-83793176222063455282009-12-26T14:13:00.001-08:002009-12-26T14:47:21.580-08:00Christmas CheersBefore we begin this post we'd like to give a special Christmas greeting to all our readers! Sorry it's a bit belated, but we've been a bit isolated for the last few days, as you'll see...<br /><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 163-164</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-8mVBSyV3H-ehS6IjV4FsdGEoOvAG6G6bG5vhj9FkkjkyfPedRbayR3pBVNNjhwBxoDWyJ_mCiOHiaqDokGChUvdF1QJL0avTem4EpDNHuwXl2-potRwpPJV6ra_1rm5HhyphenhyphenvWgIaN6iQ/s1600-h/IMG_2618.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis-8mVBSyV3H-ehS6IjV4FsdGEoOvAG6G6bG5vhj9FkkjkyfPedRbayR3pBVNNjhwBxoDWyJ_mCiOHiaqDokGChUvdF1QJL0avTem4EpDNHuwXl2-potRwpPJV6ra_1rm5HhyphenhyphenvWgIaN6iQ/s320/IMG_2618.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419674526334061442" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Welding complete only a few hours later than expected, and the new tyres pumped up as BMW hadn't seemed to have bothered, we set out for Valparaiso, Santiago's hip little sister 120km away on the coast. The highlight of our explorations around the very hilly town was looking around Neruda (famous Chilean poet)'s house – full of eccentric artefacts and designed to give fantastic views over the city and sea.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">On arriving in Valparaiso we saw an oil warning light on Emily's bike which, on consulting the manual, meant “low oil pressure, stop riding immediately”. As we couldn't see anything wrong with the oil level and the light went off on it's own, there wasn't much to be done but to continue the next day to Mendoza, Argentina – famed for its wine and also somewhere with a BMW dealership that might have new sprockets for Emily's bike. However we had only rounded one corner when Emily declared there was something else wrong. Thinking back to the day before we realised BMW probably had pumped up the tyres after all – Emily had a puncture in her brand new front tyre and it was flat again! We pumped it up and continued on for a good few hours before the oil warning light came on again. We thought we might be losing oil pressure through a leak somewhere and this was confirmed by some oil residue around the filler and on Emily's boot, so the first time the light came on Ric cleaned all the grime out from the filler cap, and the second time he tightened all the bolts on the crank case. Each time the light stopped for a while, but it kept coming back on when the engine got hot. It's pretty annoying to take your fully working bike in for a service and leave with a puncture and a serious looking warning light and it was very tempting to turn back to Santiago and give them an earful. But we really needed to get to Mendoza to try to get the sprockets and we didn't have time to do both before heading south for Christmas. So onwards we went and managed to arrive in Mendoza pretty late, but with only a few miles riding with a flashing warning light.<br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 165-167</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We turned up at the BMW dealership first thing in the morning and begged the very busy service department to help us out. They were happy to, but the bike was in a queue behind the ones already in the workshop.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The bike delays in Mendoza had their <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxW2X4moa_VoY-gQ5VtWbH6yRA_c7nDNysiwHvQCTCSjrDUv2U2R8zjz8fSKNfzNjthgR3YCktrZwPutbv5IQOCGGFQ06erWZMv8whzcN2PVNftb-MgDf42WB435SCUvP1lFynWv1kKHr/s1600-h/DSC_0469.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxW2X4moa_VoY-gQ5VtWbH6yRA_c7nDNysiwHvQCTCSjrDUv2U2R8zjz8fSKNfzNjthgR3YCktrZwPutbv5IQOCGGFQ06erWZMv8whzcN2PVNftb-MgDf42WB435SCUvP1lFynWv1kKHr/s320/DSC_0469.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419675423224585186" border="0" /></a>silver lining, though: they afforded us some time to explore the wineries (the Mendoza area produces 80% of Argentina's wine), olive oil factories, and chocolate and liqueur making establishments in the area. Ric was driving so had to be a bit careful with the tastings, but Emily took full advantage of the fact that she was riding pillion and we had great fun choosing a few bottles and treats to enjoy over Christmas.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Back at BMW we found that the oil light was actually due to a broken cooling fan (hot runny oil holding less pressure), and this was fixed by 2pm on day 165. They hadn't had time to look at the tyre but we needed to head on and could sort that out later. They also didn't have the sprockets we needed, but advised us we could probably just make it to Buenas Aires if we kept the chain well lubed, so on we went.<br /><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;">Now we<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinldCuZjJsDZvEOxRM26wC3rhE37aq3Rrat9pw6rM9aIOouAopvXEPGhgSVrgA4NC8_fpvAR2TRmGca4fLqyz9W0r-MgOtZxc_HFms5b92xY30xvKzxjnTrGerVlIT8p14fT4V8KsNiNyB/s1600-h/DSC_0496.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinldCuZjJsDZvEOxRM26wC3rhE37aq3Rrat9pw6rM9aIOouAopvXEPGhgSVrgA4NC8_fpvAR2TRmGca4fLqyz9W0r-MgOtZxc_HFms5b92xY30xvKzxjnTrGerVlIT8p14fT4V8KsNiNyB/s320/DSC_0496.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419676438543729426" border="0" /></a> were against the clock. Ric's mum, Jill, was coming out to meet us for Christmas and we were due to meet her just 21 hours after we got the bike back, in Temuco airport in Chile some 750 miles away! We rode until it was just getting dark, at which point we found a small village with very little apart from a pretty nice hostel, and a tyre repair shop that was still open! Two patched punctures on the rim of the brand new front tyre (probably caused during fitting) later, it was nearly midnight and we set the alarm for 5.30am so we could start riding more dirt and tarmac at first light to get to Temuco – we were going to be late.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="LEFT">We did our best the following day, fuelling ourselves up regularly so as not to fall asleep on the bikes! We had warned Jill that we might be late and sure enough arrived at the airport around 3 hours after she had. We had a late lunch and then set off for the lodge we'd booked, in a National Park, a couple of hours away – Jill in a taxi (after discovering how expensive the hire cars were!) and us on our bikes. We'd already been on the road for eight hours and were pretty tired, so we weren't very impressed when it started to rain, the temperature dropped, and we realised we didn't really know where we were going. We eventually found the dirt road leading to the lodge but stopped 100m short: there was a very fast and full river that we needed to cross. The taxi wasn't going any further, and nor was Emily. Ric rode into the middle of the river and stalled the bike, meaning he had to put his feet in - we were already soaking from the rain so it didn't make a big difference. The owner of the lodge brought his truck out to save our luggage and Jill, and Ric returned to get Emily's bike across – again getting stuck so firmly in the rocks that this time Emily had to get into the river and push him out! We were very relieved to get to the lodge where our rooms were ready and a fire was burning.<br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 168-169</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1AvzOdab4oEqLZlW7C1mHxi_k2XgWwaits1QXoGyw_QIx3IHbhagySsLKjw2yp0PaZy8dVa8rJ5Mrr8afbmJtjtNKEXoFUHx12IKo_vgbgLWDSUP09QrELFTVFdfRdb-VsdTg_KTEybGy/s1600-h/DSC_0588.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1AvzOdab4oEqLZlW7C1mHxi_k2XgWwaits1QXoGyw_QIx3IHbhagySsLKjw2yp0PaZy8dVa8rJ5Mrr8afbmJtjtNKEXoFUHx12IKo_vgbgLWDSUP09QrELFTVFdfRdb-VsdTg_KTEybGy/s320/DSC_0588.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419678306380376050" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Thankfully the weather cheered up significantly after we arrived at the lodge, so we could enjoy some of the beautiful Chilean Lake District surrounding us. We had two days of sunny walks in the stunning park, seeing lakes, waterfalls, snow capped mountains and smoking volcanoes. The lodge prepared a special Christmas Eve feast, so we even had our own little party there. Of course we've missed our friends and family back home but it was great to see Ric's Mum and to experience a sunny Christmas on the other side of the world.<br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Day 170</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We awoke to the sound of hammering rain, and soon gave up any aspirations for the 9:30 bus to Pucon. As we chilled out by the lodge's lovely warm fire the rain abated though, so when Patricio (the owner, architect and host of the lodge and also, fascinatingly, a documentary film maker) offered Jill a lift right into town we decided to make a run for it. The river was reasonably low and much easier for Ric to get the bikes across (just one foot dipped into the cold water), and the rain even held off until we were back on the tarmac so we got to enjoy the views from the road a bit more.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Pucon is very different to the park and the lodge, busy with tourists and full of all the amenities you could want – including internet access for the first time in nearly a week. So as well as shopping (last chance to load Jill up for her return journey) we have finally been able to catch up on all the Christmas messages.</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-53527483014020822682009-12-19T05:01:00.000-08:002009-12-19T05:31:45.034-08:00Just DesertsDays 157-160 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQsypE7BZPcwys-a64-rIoX87et-hoJyxaeO1YJ3kNDVsNOqytCSlNZSv5bosOy-HlpcX2Ze7xNLiNVNapmJ3Rz_iDUHdny_9_m8Eh_NnWXVzRf959KgGczkosPFDIJnqMojIIivn03QCi/s1600-h/DSC_0347.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQsypE7BZPcwys-a64-rIoX87et-hoJyxaeO1YJ3kNDVsNOqytCSlNZSv5bosOy-HlpcX2Ze7xNLiNVNapmJ3Rz_iDUHdny_9_m8Eh_NnWXVzRf959KgGczkosPFDIJnqMojIIivn03QCi/s320/DSC_0347.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416934625083639026" border="0" /></a>We hadn't quite seen enough desert yet, so on our second evening in San Pedro de Atacama we both hopped on Emily's bike and rode into the nearby Valley of the Moon, where sand and salt abound and erosion has made strange shapes in the landscape. Shortly before sunset we pulled up at a sand dune which people commonly climb and found a familiar motorbike there... Victor, the Argentinian Canadian who we met in Mexico, was apparently also at the dune! We had a catch-up with him and a Spanish guy on a small dirt bike who he was riding with, but we were unfortunately all heading in different directions the following day – we're sure we'll meet again though.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The few days of riding in northern Chile were nice but fairly dull: good roads, good fuel, lots of sand, lots of sunshine, and a bit of wind. There were a few things of interest to break the monotony of the Atacama Desert though. The first was an old railway station in Baquedano complete with decaying carriages and rusting steam engines along with the roundhouse for turning them round. The second stop was at the pretty cool “Hand of the Desert” sculpture. Further down the coast we camped at the lovely bea<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUIaVoJk3wYMAqhnuyqselKJDb1K7_lWpwh8v5JofryMXVyAXsAkTtD1D5Qjv17zF5aGc47qiV0tKGCmpLFwYqU8W3GjsAQVw6yQfmeIYd3YP72OtOYUzhFPWK_1xA5aFr1QxZwRfPl7v1/s1600-h/DSC_0384.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUIaVoJk3wYMAqhnuyqselKJDb1K7_lWpwh8v5JofryMXVyAXsAkTtD1D5Qjv17zF5aGc47qiV0tKGCmpLFwYqU8W3GjsAQVw6yQfmeIYd3YP72OtOYUzhFPWK_1xA5aFr1QxZwRfPl7v1/s320/DSC_0384.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416937183521356930" border="0" /></a>ch town of Caleta Pan de Azaca, where we hoped to ride out with the fishermen to see rare Humbolt penguins on the nearby islands but were sadly foiled by rough seas. From there we had just one more overnight stop on the way to Santiago, in the very liveable-in colonial town of La Serena. The last leg took us through increasingly fertile land and increasingly hot climes – we emerged from one tunnel close to Santiago a whole 10°C hotter than on the other side, and the weather stayed hot and sunny throughout our time in the capital. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman,serif;">Days 161-163</span><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We've been in Santiago for over two days now and have managed to get the laptop sorted (broken RAM, again, same problem as in Panama and very easy to fix), and the bikes mostly sorted out. Unfortunately we couldn't get the sprockets to go with Emily's new chain, so we'll have to figure that one out later, and the servicing took so long that we had to leave her bike with it's broken pannier rack overnight in the welder's hopefully-capable hands. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFK6B5F7t-ok9Qx9XUDeY5uC62-VxhqYACjGBQeJ_6Hk1uI2dpSUqUCqDhBC7bkE1nGOPldFvf7D-NPQaqdY9ogviq2E7itkh2w_T-ZnaALBNC9zhwG3ZRKAimNbsZbggOpcKEJx-qqN8A/s1600-h/DSC_0403.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFK6B5F7t-ok9Qx9XUDeY5uC62-VxhqYACjGBQeJ_6Hk1uI2dpSUqUCqDhBC7bkE1nGOPldFvf7D-NPQaqdY9ogviq2E7itkh2w_T-ZnaALBNC9zhwG3ZRKAimNbsZbggOpcKEJx-qqN8A/s320/DSC_0403.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416937856569389378" border="0" /></a>In the meantime we've done a pretty comprehensive walking tour of Santiago. It feels like somewhere in Europe - Spain or Italy maybe - except nicer. The difference with the major cities of the other South American countries we've been to is marked. The streets are wide and clean; there are trees, plazas and parks everywhere, all with manicured gardens; even the cars are all clean! Moreover, drivers obey the traffic lights, give pedestrians right of way, use their indicators and not their horns; all the cars have working brake lights, and not one vehicle has belched out black smoke at us as yet. Santiago's a big city but we have friends: Dan arrived on his Harley the day before yesterday (Jacquie having gone home for Christmas) and Thom and Flo arrived last night to give us a fun evening with “the gang” before we head off today.</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-5810643433686855702009-12-13T06:57:00.000-08:002009-12-26T15:27:56.594-08:00Shake, Rattle And RollDays 151-152<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIxdBHoIY0MemLHr1dIXBY1N9mMWpuwgy9jas2-9WSjEThuMdFK1CPDUg3zPL8AR46EpkFk9gZTF2hV3ciGQqVzybErCsB-naYoQx37LN9KQ-UhlLr-Qcr0FDRNh63isfV8W96VrH_R7s/s1600-h/DSC_0063.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIxdBHoIY0MemLHr1dIXBY1N9mMWpuwgy9jas2-9WSjEThuMdFK1CPDUg3zPL8AR46EpkFk9gZTF2hV3ciGQqVzybErCsB-naYoQx37LN9KQ-UhlLr-Qcr0FDRNh63isfV8W96VrH_R7s/s320/DSC_0063.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419686967289767586" border="0" /></a>Finally back on both bikes, we enjoyed riding the hardtop South to Potosi, along the altiplano through desolate valleys and canyons. Potosi is a nice enough colonial town, famous for its cooperative mine where we had a brief tour of the harsh mining conditions the following morning. From Potosi the roads quickly deteriorated as we headed towards Uyuni - we started with 20 miles of new tarmac but then had another 100 miles of roadworks, gravel, sand and dirt to contend with. Little did we know then, but this road was great compared with what was to come. Our day was brightened up with a couple of chance encounters with some german bikers coming the other way, though - two guys on some old BMWs done up in a mock-wartime style and later on a couple on a fantastic Ural with sidecar.<br /><br />Day 153<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxdT6Vv-9ebC-WhwTsDplhxP5MRMmvPHabO53Z6vCeRReTNnjsMh8FBgzQlZUVlph_F-epPEW3kCh-VE6y6PL1jWpg9vYD8nnaom7A5KE33wrF-09Z6XGf_OxlwM5aAg4-b6XAPgRkmZzA/s1600-h/DSC_0117.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxdT6Vv-9ebC-WhwTsDplhxP5MRMmvPHabO53Z6vCeRReTNnjsMh8FBgzQlZUVlph_F-epPEW3kCh-VE6y6PL1jWpg9vYD8nnaom7A5KE33wrF-09Z6XGf_OxlwM5aAg4-b6XAPgRkmZzA/s320/DSC_0117.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419687408519650962" border="0" /></a>The Salar de Uyuni really deserves its own day in this account as it is so spectacular a thing! We met up with our French friends in Uyuni and the four of us rode up to the salt plane together and had a fantastic day taking the obligatory photo shoot on the salt and riding in any direction we felt like, at any speed (a fully-laden BMW will do over 110 mph on salt, in case you´re interested), practicing some red arrows style formation riding, without danger of hitting anyone or anything - really, it´s just salt for miles! We all spent the next morning picking the white stuff off our bikes and hoping the corrosion would be delayed by the amount of dirt already on there, at least until we get to Santiago and have the bikes cleaned properly!<br /><br />Days 154-156<br /><br />From Uyuni we all wanted to travel South, via some lakes, geysers and desert scenery into Chile and we`d both gathered vaguely collabatory information on which roads were better than others to get there. The Frenchies wanted to go with the "easy" route and although Ric was quite keen on the difficult but more scenic route we decided company was best. We had been told that the road to Laguna Colorada would take around 5 hours, and the Frenchies were told it was a day´s ride so we all felt reasonably confident heading out from Uyuni that we should make it ok. However it soon became apparent that this was highly optimistic for big, laden motorbikes such as ours, especially as we, in keeping with recent times, encountered problems with the bikes...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHywc7HaQeGOypsvoHomarXy2ZRE0P6MUuu3eqpSwu75Q_Qz65nwaEe9dCA6vJEA_TnQm2MQohtfB6vUNljc7Vr0lP1gUFqXCPKYfkb-8s85czXDCj2FQpjtESORDIYhrZUdil4Axu2Oxz/s1600-h/P1030835.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHywc7HaQeGOypsvoHomarXy2ZRE0P6MUuu3eqpSwu75Q_Qz65nwaEe9dCA6vJEA_TnQm2MQohtfB6vUNljc7Vr0lP1gUFqXCPKYfkb-8s85czXDCj2FQpjtESORDIYhrZUdil4Axu2Oxz/s320/P1030835.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419688647767265266" border="0" /></a>In the end it took us two days to reach Laguna Colorada and it was a difficult two days to say the least. Emily´s pannier rack broke: the first time we just tied the broken joint up with string; the second time we needed to take the panniers off the rack, tying one to the top of Emily´s bike and the other to the top of Ric´s bike; and the third time we had to take the pannier off Emily´s bike altogether and strap both to the top of Ric´s bike, leaving Emily with just the tail bag. When we stopped for lunch on the first day we also noticed that Ric´s tyre was low on air. We couldn´t find any puncture and it was losing air slowly so we just resolved to pump it up... except that our pump was having difficulties. At just this moment we were very lucky to find a passing 4WD running a tour of the area (the traffic here is almost exclusively 4WDs running tours and an occasional lorry). We were able to borrow their compressor to pump up the tyre and they agreed to cook us some rice and egg as they were preparing lunch for their tour group and there was absolutely nowhere open to buy food in the town! The following morning we were lucky to be able to borrow the hostel´s track pump to get the bike ready for another day´s riding. It wasn´t just our bikes causing problems though. The road (the "easy" road) was either washboard (corrugated dirt which is very uncomfortable and slow to ride on) or sand. In many places the sand was so deep that we were wading the bikes through, buried half a wheel deep. Thom and Flo had it the hardest as their bike is the heaviest to begin with, plus there are two of them on it, and they dropped their bike 5 or more times. Ric had the worst tyres for the sand, having road tyres front and back, and was also carrying a lot of extra luggage - he dropped his bike twice. Emily took full advantage of her lighter bike, superiour tyres, and position at the back of the group giving her the most warning of the terrain and managed to keep her bike pretty much upright the whole time. It wasn´t easy for anyone though, and we can´t begin to imagine what the "difficult" road would have been like!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikIV1xt6Xb4ewxx2VhyV8nvz2XWDl4Xi_ZdZbje6671bvhes_P3OYvFPeq0U47C626olDVgh6ghekluzecpkMD2FIpC35hyphenhyphenT1l7MvejKppvZq9gbMO-ScZ5AYUVrkTUy_OU73u0_fzk474/s1600-h/P1030861.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikIV1xt6Xb4ewxx2VhyV8nvz2XWDl4Xi_ZdZbje6671bvhes_P3OYvFPeq0U47C626olDVgh6ghekluzecpkMD2FIpC35hyphenhyphenT1l7MvejKppvZq9gbMO-ScZ5AYUVrkTUy_OU73u0_fzk474/s320/P1030861.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419689539093727730" border="0" /></a>When we finally reached Lago Colorado it was a beautiful sight, but we were reluctant to go around to the refuge on the other side, knowing we would have to backtrack on the same sand road the following day, so decided to try to camp up near some geysers that we wanted to see on our way out toward Chile. First though, we had to go to Bolivian customs to check the bikes out of the country, which is strangely located 60 miles from the border, and pretty close to the geysers. The customs office is heated by thermal water running in pipes around the building, which comprised the office and living quarters of the single customs officer, and at over 5000m with howling winds we were pleased for the respite. So pleased in fact that asked if we could stay, realising that camping might be chilly (we´d been warned on the way that temperatures were down at -5C in the night). After some deliberation and clearing out of a small room, we were told that we could stay the night, use the kitchen to make our food, and generally make ourselves at home!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHPNhpBVsa4Z-FWaF65z8wUwf9Zig28UTNaXK6_fGPkUwU6ezyVmpmA3gtZAAQI-rpTmB6ZnOAR_oARkhE8IENJWhjFX8CSP92fdAuDS8ZGICf8xgTCHjGXOACxnaQFO33NOwxJv3u1XY/s1600-h/DSC_0263.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHPNhpBVsa4Z-FWaF65z8wUwf9Zig28UTNaXK6_fGPkUwU6ezyVmpmA3gtZAAQI-rpTmB6ZnOAR_oARkhE8IENJWhjFX8CSP92fdAuDS8ZGICf8xgTCHjGXOACxnaQFO33NOwxJv3u1XY/s320/DSC_0263.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419690310237828610" border="0" /></a>The next morning we woke up early to visit the geysers in the dawn light (apparently the best time). We knew this would be difficult for us as we´d need to use the pump which was really on it´s last legs, and indeed it proved impossible when the time came. So we sent the Frenchies on their way and came up with a new plan to ride very carefully without the panniers to try to find someone with a pump... which immediately failed because Ric´s bike wouldn´t even fire up. We tried a push start but there was only a certain distance that Emily could push the bike at 5.30am, in -5C temperature, over 5000m of altitude, and in many layers of clothing, and this wasn´t enough. So we went to the geysers on Emily´s bike leaving everything else at the customs office. We found the Frenchies before we found the geysers - they were still looking for them too. When we eventually found the bubbling mud pots and steaming geysers (no 100-foot water shoots as promised) they were a bit of a disappointment after all the hassle! While the Frenchies pushed on to Chile, we returned to customs, and put Ric´s bike in the sun while we had a hot drink... after 20 minutes of warming up the bike started! Ric found a lorry with a compressor at the chemical plant next to the customs office (the only two buildings for miles around) and we were finally on our way. A few hours of sand and gravel (and admittedly some very stunning scenery when you stop and can look beyond the 10m of road in front of you) later we were elated to reach the Chilean border.<br /><br />The change in road conditions was immediate: the dirt suddenly became perfectly smooth and sand-free and gave way in just a few miles to a beautiful stretch of smooth dark tarmac, all of which was perfectly signposted and delivered us in no time to the very civilised (and comparatively very expensive) town of San Pedro de Atacama. We washed everything we owned, including all our soft bags whose zips had all ceased up in the dust, and finally settled down with the laptop to discover... it was broken! Possibly by all the bumping around, but we´re down to using internet cafes for the moment until we can find someone to take a look for us.Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-37134009906811132052009-12-07T05:40:00.000-08:002009-12-26T18:59:34.397-08:00Highs And LowsDays 141-142 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCxcJq8BHuU1S2Xlw1MaRFM5VWQGv3IbZ8c2awuTj9edJm4uFU4LVbYCLnYXiAAVqqr5IpfdWKyWzDDjatBp9aDhrVIZ3CRrRm1sCUGlpWARhse-CU9lvcDLjuo0KtgbfDA4Xo_JuHkpE/s1600-h/DSC_0721.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCxcJq8BHuU1S2Xlw1MaRFM5VWQGv3IbZ8c2awuTj9edJm4uFU4LVbYCLnYXiAAVqqr5IpfdWKyWzDDjatBp9aDhrVIZ3CRrRm1sCUGlpWARhse-CU9lvcDLjuo0KtgbfDA4Xo_JuHkpE/s320/DSC_0721.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412680861517159810" border="0" /></a>With Emily's bike fixed Lake Titicaca beckoned. We visited the “floating islands” from Puno – just 5km from shore people still live on islands made from reeds (and move around on boats made of reeds, and live in houses made of reeds, and make souvenirs for tourists out of reeds). They are anchored down most of the time to stop them drifting off into the middle of the lake, but if a neighbourly dispute occurs between islands they can up anchor and move on!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">Moving round the (not-actually-the-world's-highest-navigable) lake we crossed the border into Bolivia and on to the small town of Copacabana from where we visited one of the more conventional stationary islands, the “Island Of The Sun”. We didn't really have long enough to get into island life due to the bike delays back in Puno and had to settle for a rapid and shepherded tour, but it was still a beautiful place where you could imagine the sun being born (as per pre-Incan legend). Bolivia is the cheapest country we've visited so far, and to celebrate this fact we visited the most expensive restaurant in town for it's famed chocolate fondue - yum!<br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">Days 143-144</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGi0yRhIABvqchKsCnTY5jXGoEsMsydrgxKDcp47lpPnbxTp2R83P73SE1xgcE7t_lD_lE_B3v_yerF_nA_ud7oNoLSPnZz64TTHG-2uvMavTdLwOiAxFzAPz1Wkxkcyb4PQlhFMI-w4i8/s1600-h/DSC_0796.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGi0yRhIABvqchKsCnTY5jXGoEsMsydrgxKDcp47lpPnbxTp2R83P73SE1xgcE7t_lD_lE_B3v_yerF_nA_ud7oNoLSPnZz64TTHG-2uvMavTdLwOiAxFzAPz1Wkxkcyb4PQlhFMI-w4i8/s320/DSC_0796.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412685196447531570" border="0" /></a>Our final venture onto the lake was our most precarious ferry crossing so far, on a rickety wooden raft with designated bailers, but both bikes made it to shore intact, and on to La Paz just in time to sign up for a trip to see the local wrestling that evening. It's WWF style but lower budget, and includes women wrestlers in traditional dress (and also midgets apparently, though we weren't lucky enough to see them!). A very entertaining evening, for all the gringos in the front row as well as all the local families, many of whom were clearly avid followers.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">There were some excursions we wanted to do out of La Paz: climbing Huayna Potosi, and visiting the Amazonia wilderness from nearby Rurrenbaque, so we made some bookings. Since everybody keeps telling us stories about how bad the roads in Bolivia are, we also decided to ride 40 minutes out of town to visit “Motorcycle Tours Bolivia”, a company advertised in our hostel. This turned out to be an excellent decision. Firstly the ride took us through the other-worldly “Valley of the Moon”, but more significantly the main guy there was incredibly helpful and friendly. He told us about all the different routes for the rest of our journey in Bolivia, things to see, road conditions, how far we could get in a day, where the petrol stations were, etc. We relayed our sorry story about the tyre and he was also able to help with this – he took us to the poshest motorbike shop in La Paz (a Honda dealer) and they somehow found, tucked away out back and much to even their surprise, a single tyre which just happened to fit the back end of a BMW! Bolivia is probably now completely out of large motorcycle rear tyres.</p><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">Days 145-147</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQh0AvObwWeAG0aHsEvbnnARDAqc8XobLcMzI3GkNkHw_EBHjTDF1CwNC_8RYr3zrdBayDQkEl8lOQPugEVjVjqhXbGBW6VbUbiLmTV3I_cYgDhuxDjiQG7ZCPgagznCW-qRR1TjiBqHiK/s1600-h/DSC_0873.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQh0AvObwWeAG0aHsEvbnnARDAqc8XobLcMzI3GkNkHw_EBHjTDF1CwNC_8RYr3zrdBayDQkEl8lOQPugEVjVjqhXbGBW6VbUbiLmTV3I_cYgDhuxDjiQG7ZCPgagznCW-qRR1TjiBqHiK/s320/DSC_0873.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419744711343344802" border="0" /></a>In the Galapagos we met an English guy, Chris, who told us of his hike up Huayana Potosi, a towering peak in the Andes standing at 6088m, and showed us his photos and videos. Immediately we were enamoured with the idea, and since then Emily has had us marching up every nearby hill to try to gain some level of fitness suitable for climbing the mountain. We were driven from La Paz up to base camp at 4700m and had a practice crampon / ice axe session on a nearby glacier which went smoothly enough. The next day we hiked for a couple of hours up to high camp at 5130m and had the rest of the day to acclimatise, with the plan to sleep early, then set off to climb the mountain proper at around 1am and arrive at the summit for dawn. Emily has a history of altitude sickness, but we had been pretty high for a pretty long time at this stage and we were hopeful that she would manage. We weren't holding our breaths though – about one third of people fail to climb this mountain, usually due to altitude sickness on the final hike up from high camp.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">As the day at high camp wore on, Emily started to feel bad. And then worse. She was unable to eat dinner and had to use the bathroom a little too often for comfort. At about 11pm she woke up, and just managed to make it outside before being sick. At midnight when we all got up to get ready for the trek Emily only managed to go to the toilet three times then go back to bed. So as Ric, the Canadian guy who had joined us at high camp, and their two guides hiked up the mountain, Emily alternated between sleeping and dashing to the outside toilet located 20m down a slope from the refuge (running there, and crawling back).</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPoouikr-P1USzOSSDeTbvYmOIS7dIHNFZvrlb3a_DhTMAfj1VC-_I6_InLYheA3OCivW2LWfM5njzX-h6RQzp0kTc2SAsYdn3_lo6KFleD3npM7xbb7gwZAwmzg_93C25lvlHuFLRrm7/s1600-h/DSC_0910.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPoouikr-P1USzOSSDeTbvYmOIS7dIHNFZvrlb3a_DhTMAfj1VC-_I6_InLYheA3OCivW2LWfM5njzX-h6RQzp0kTc2SAsYdn3_lo6KFleD3npM7xbb7gwZAwmzg_93C25lvlHuFLRrm7/s320/DSC_0910.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419742121643007410" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">Ric meanwhile was walking, jumping crevasses and climbing ice under a moonlit sky in record time. It normally takes about 4 to 6 hours to summit from high camp, and despite the fact that they had to take some long breaks near the top so that they had a bit more light for “el cumbre” (the summit), Ric was up and back down in just five and a half hours! Part of the reason for the speedy return was that he wanted to see how poor Emily was doing, but unfortunately by the time he made it back to high camp he was so knackered all he could do was sleep rather than nurse his fiancée!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">Climbing back down to base camp a couple of hours later was probably a bigger struggle for Emily than it had been for Ric to reach the summit, but we made it eventually and it was a huge relief to get back to our hostel in La Paz, with a private bathroom just steps away from the bed, and to meet our French friends there, one of whom (Thom) is a doctor!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><br />Days 148-150</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">Emily spent the next few days mostly in a state of pain, exhaustion and despair while Ric kept himself busy running around looking after Emily and, regrettably, cancelling our trip to the Amazon: we didn't have time for Emily to get better AND to go the jungle, and trying to do both at once seemed foolish. Dr Thom kindly examined Emily and kept an eye on her, advising that it was most likely a viral thing (albeit a nasty one) that we just needed to sit out. But when Emily felt no better two days later we decided to go for the drugs – one day of antibiotics, or maybe just one extra day of resting, and Emily felt a whole world better!</p><br />Her recovery was just in time for us to ride <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yungas_Road">The Death Road</a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bCijIFlhsC0mgAmI3_O0ZWAqTgQWQfG9JTUz5DHUC7muFAHDApaA1WqCMGeEh_9R3jT_qolKm7HnfKj2Sv-zWVV_m5SbUgqOO_gr7UmQjx72OB3kWdKczONk745DcsB6io79h_hzj7GF/s1600-h/DSC_1000_cropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 177px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bCijIFlhsC0mgAmI3_O0ZWAqTgQWQfG9JTUz5DHUC7muFAHDApaA1WqCMGeEh_9R3jT_qolKm7HnfKj2Sv-zWVV_m5SbUgqOO_gr7UmQjx72OB3kWdKczONk745DcsB6io79h_hzj7GF/s320/DSC_1000_cropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419742595639701762" border="0" /></a>(Emily riding pillion in case it was a bit too much excitement so soon). The road isn't as dangerous now that they've built a wider, asphalt, less precipitous option that the majority of traffic has diverted to, but it's still an incredible thing. It hugs to the edge of the mountain with sheer drops, amazing views, a narrow, loose dirt surface, and many blind corners. And people do still die: in the motorbike shop back in La Paz we met English ex-pat Robin who used to run mountain bike tours down it (one of the most popular tourist pursuits out of the Bolivian capital) and he told us that just last week one of the mountain bike tour operators with the best safety record lost another two tourists over the edge. Going up (by motorbike) is purportedly much safer than going down (by mountain bike), though, and you'll hopefully be glad to hear that we made it back to La Paz in one piece. <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">We picked a good day to ride the Death Road as it happened to also be Election Day in Bolivia. This meant that very few vehicles were allowed on the roads anywhere (we blagged it with the “but we're just tourists and don't really understand” line), giving us beautiful traffic-free conditions the whole way. The only tricky bits were all the impromptu street parties we had to drive though, with food stalls, families out for walks, kids playing on the street, etc, but it was great to soak up the holiday atmosphere on the way through. Fingers crossed that the “right” person gets elected president and a load of road blocks and protests don't flood the country in the next few days...</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-61798165404103651462009-11-27T13:11:00.000-08:002009-11-27T14:03:33.377-08:00It's All Part Of The AdventureDays 134-137 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">After our night ride out of the protest area, we arrived in Cuzco at 7am and started our usual search for a hostel with all the necessary prerequisites, in particular parking for the bikes. Emily watched the bikes while Ric wandered around trying to find somewhere, but it took a bit longer than normal and Ric's battery went flat in the process (yes, he left the ignition on). So our first tour of Cuzco involved Emily pushing Ric's bike so he could try to jump start it, down whichever street was most downhill irrespective of one-way conventions. After many failed attempts, Ric rolled round the corner to try to park up, found the best hill yet and with one almighty jump managed to get the bike started. Little did we know at the time that this was just the start of many problems!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The next few days went smo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxt6xEZgSQCQnk5bXbXSL_eQ6KbVGPUtwFJpDOR9M42_ty-fIa6sYjEFDtmzDb-g4T7GCqt0D_dGU_Fl3sjv7lA4_TW8uo0QQf-K1nq38UtUH6GaKopabmkQ-9YMrUYTG0fa6vMb3NBjh/s1600/DSC_0295.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxt6xEZgSQCQnk5bXbXSL_eQ6KbVGPUtwFJpDOR9M42_ty-fIa6sYjEFDtmzDb-g4T7GCqt0D_dGU_Fl3sjv7lA4_TW8uo0QQf-K1nq38UtUH6GaKopabmkQ-9YMrUYTG0fa6vMb3NBjh/s320/DSC_0295.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408896443857383778" border="0" /></a>othly, however. We visited the awesome Macchu Picchu, leaving our bikes in a nearby town and taking a train and a steep hike to reach the site (no roads all the way there, unfortunately). The primary icon of Peru was definitely worth the hype (though Emily had been there before), and getting there early to avoid the peak crowds was worth it too. On the way back to Cuzco through “The Sacred Valley” we looked round a number of other Incan sites which were all very cool, but somewhat overshadowed by the superlatives of Macchu Picchu. Cuzco itself is a nice city with lots to see and do (including the famous Norton Rats bikers' bar that was sadly devoid of bikers when we stopped by) but, as we'd been warned by the American family we met in Abancay, very “hassley”. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 138-139</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">From Cuzco we wanted to visit the Colca Canyon. The only all-tarmac route would mean a long way round and doubling back again later so we chose to take the more direct route to Chivay, at the edge of the canyon. We had read that there was a “mostly paved” route somewhere in the region and took a guess from the map at which this was, having tried (not as much as we should) and failed to get local advice on the matter. The route was fairly high altitude – mostly between 4,000 and 4,700m – and although the scenery was beautiful, t<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDIueazkkmEW5AsqZ4GNBd1SYzAwh7KyTQlf9Iouru6lwXdn1mWYZVKE7VTe3G33EqirmLSxeckuvuYK3WItsx3pQYbyjy4vHpF1xAYtoXPF-CANDlZ11v1XeEp0vzqQJkc809InU7Z0nE/s1600/DSC_0494.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDIueazkkmEW5AsqZ4GNBd1SYzAwh7KyTQlf9Iouru6lwXdn1mWYZVKE7VTe3G33EqirmLSxeckuvuYK3WItsx3pQYbyjy4vHpF1xAYtoXPF-CANDlZ11v1XeEp0vzqQJkc809InU7Z0nE/s320/DSC_0494.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408898387631287746" border="0" /></a>he thundery hail storms (two of them) were not as pretty and very cold. By mid-afternoon we were getting close, about 60 miles away, but the road really started to deteriorate. We asked some locals how long they thought it would take: “about five hours”. Five hours! With only two and a half hours of sunlight remaining this wasn't the best answer. We rode for about half an hour and bumped into some other locals on dirt bikes. So of course we went for a second opinion: “about five hours”. Eek! Our half an hour's riding had done nothing to reduce the estimate! We decided to carry on as fast as possible and stop at any town that might have a bed, or else find somewhere safe to pitch the tent. Now the road was just a track full of big stones. Emily in particular felt her bike twisting beneath her, and mentioned to Ric on the radio that her bike was bottoming out more than normal. Stopping safely on the big stones was just as tricky as riding across them, but when we came to a clearing Emily rode in front so Ric could check the tyre: flat as a pancake. We set about fixing the tyre, with our little kit and our bike pump but couldn't get a solid fix. The sun was setting and the air getting colder, but as we were stopped we noticed buses and lorries travelling at a reasonably speed on a road crossing our track about 300m away, and more than that we could see a small town! So being extremely careful on the semi-inflated tyre we made our way there, and managed to find very basic lodgings (we're talking outside toilet, no shower). When dinner, bed and breakfast all come in at just four pounds each you can't really complain, though.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The next morning we put<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfvRqNbtK1p7JdtXVW0oNCAfQDrq_zZEU-z80hHr4PNJNsT-hqvxFqsyfdd4qEtRGNBZXwPLFROho_yhDjtgUi0tnA6aXoUYr3sMKZ-nMPTal-LvuaC-5tROh4fO0i2E58gEc1nXUgtNyp/s1600/DSC_0501.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfvRqNbtK1p7JdtXVW0oNCAfQDrq_zZEU-z80hHr4PNJNsT-hqvxFqsyfdd4qEtRGNBZXwPLFROho_yhDjtgUi0tnA6aXoUYr3sMKZ-nMPTal-LvuaC-5tROh4fO0i2E58gEc1nXUgtNyp/s320/DSC_0501.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408901369529491330" border="0" /></a> more and more plugs into the tyre, pumping it up with the hand pump each time, then finding it still leaked. Eventually we thought we had it so we rode out towards Chivay. Just as we started out onto the reasonably good unpaved road, Ric did an emergency stop. Emily put on her brakes but not much happened – not the best time to discover your assisted breaking is no longer working. She managed to slow down a lot and swerve to the side, and almost got away with it, except for a small clash of the paniers which sent her and her bike sprawling across the road. Ric's reason for stopping was that the GPS had jumped off the bike and he pointed out that, as we had found it between his two tyres, if he had gone any further he would have squished it. Emily felt a bit miffed that the GPS seemed to be more important than her, but she was fine; the breaks are a pain but still work if you just press them harder so we continued on.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihhZUiOhxzsIlmYx-PNcxeCIusrbJW0CT8qenBEu1g4JQaIBXWMYsryw9O9JkbVCbgZcmtVFrkrhdMPAi3J86hYX0aTA33fAXKaIgvPy_dfIxQvUg7SNBcDOHPZakDcHmY1FtGlGK82wrT/s1600/DSC_0535.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihhZUiOhxzsIlmYx-PNcxeCIusrbJW0CT8qenBEu1g4JQaIBXWMYsryw9O9JkbVCbgZcmtVFrkrhdMPAi3J86hYX0aTA33fAXKaIgvPy_dfIxQvUg7SNBcDOHPZakDcHmY1FtGlGK82wrT/s320/DSC_0535.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408904064049298066" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The day improved after we reached Chivay and rode into the beautiful Colca Canyon where we were lucky enough to see some of the resident condors flying up on thermals. However, we realised we were still leaking air, so when we got back to Chivay put <i>another</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> plug in the tyre and used the petrol station air to pump it up. Surely we must have it this time, and after a night at rest the pressure wa</span><span style="font-style: normal;">s still good.</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Days 140-141<br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbYVanH39BPJxkS76OWKeL5ur6cmgRTptYi_r_L8e4q9amt_k2YfwedgDVktg03rg3-Vd_zE2wvV-WwfYwQXQwVWCrawIPbKlSeBgz7OW8Rrn5ZWyugKg1D0xqAYxqCWcQj_TCmhseJuSf/s1600/DSC_0597.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbYVanH39BPJxkS76OWKeL5ur6cmgRTptYi_r_L8e4q9amt_k2YfwedgDVktg03rg3-Vd_zE2wvV-WwfYwQXQwVWCrawIPbKlSeBgz7OW8Rrn5ZWyugKg1D0xqAYxqCWcQj_TCmhseJuSf/s320/DSC_0597.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408905172876620786" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: normal;">From Chivay we wanted to get to Puno on Lake Titicaca and it wasn't too far to go so we were happy to stop at various view points on the way. It was at one such point that we discovered Emily's broken pannier rack. This probably happened when she dropped the bike the day before, or possibly it was weakened and then rattled itself off on all the subsequent bad roads. There wasn't much we could do but tie it up with string so it didn't cause any further damage to the pannier, which it was busy wearing a hole in. As we were about to leave, a German couple pulled up on two BMWs (a 1200 Adventure and 800 GS – both slightly bigger versions of our two bikes, and much more heavily laden). We had a good old chat about biking and the roads to come (apparently some of the Bolivian roads we're planning on takin</span><span style="font-style: normal;">g are really bad); they had also met our French friends a few days before so we already had friends in common! We are going separate ways at the moment but hope to meet up in Chile or Argentina.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoXTGBvVA94lkxR328Ng9cE3mb479a0arvTIvFtIOsD4PPda-2lxBJ38FWiwTs7Tgtj15xZlFCtgo7aBNJZzXtUgb6X2dX4NsR7lhr7M5gACPSS5JokUdZDe0zbMhEV4HxrqDBrCfZjQm/s1600/IMG_2585.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoXTGBvVA94lkxR328Ng9cE3mb479a0arvTIvFtIOsD4PPda-2lxBJ38FWiwTs7Tgtj15xZlFCtgo7aBNJZzXtUgb6X2dX4NsR7lhr7M5gACPSS5JokUdZDe0zbMhEV4HxrqDBrCfZjQm/s320/IMG_2585.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408906019128260002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: normal;">So we continued on to Puno, and it wasn't until we were quite close, having stopped at some more ruins on the way, that we discovered Emily had a flat again. We limped into Puno and into a hostel. Just before setting out to find a tyre repair shop and a welder for the pannier rack Emily opened the tail bag, and the zip broke! Sometimes everything just goes wrong. We had the tyre fixed and agreed to do the welding first thing in the morning. First thing in the morning Ric found that the tyre was flat again! So he made another trip to get the tyre fixed again – a stone had worked it's way in probably because of running it so flat – and a bit of time at the welder next door, while Emily fixed the bag for the millionth time this trip, and fingers crossed that now we're sorted. At least all this tyre fixing and welding was very cheap – just over one pound a pop!</span></p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-48651771109503538482009-11-20T16:06:00.001-08:002009-11-20T16:52:11.646-08:00From Desert To Darkness!Day 127-128<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRru4FAN7yRnI9p9yovs1CtqXizC51yGd3VqxR9w7ppndYIYRLRp2ZUHPX0ukwt7G-6nF9IK89GnH8G-LAOZpj1M5Di9RwV2TxtnLJfuuTSHMQZCfogNPNR0dGWt9shSFl7N69jHSKC7xz/s1600/DSC_0781.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRru4FAN7yRnI9p9yovs1CtqXizC51yGd3VqxR9w7ppndYIYRLRp2ZUHPX0ukwt7G-6nF9IK89GnH8G-LAOZpj1M5Di9RwV2TxtnLJfuuTSHMQZCfogNPNR0dGWt9shSFl7N69jHSKC7xz/s320/DSC_0781.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406343467309140802" border="0" /></a> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">In the northern reaches of Peru we interspersed our rather tedious desert rising with a bit of historical culture. The treasures from the tombs around Cliclayo were impressive and the old ruins of Chan Chan and the even older temples of the sun and moon near Trujillo were all worthy distractions.<br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 129-130</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">From the coast we decided to take a rough dirt road through the Canon del Pato to Huaraz, rather than opt for the wimps' tarmac route. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsOrDKZnYtHp5lbu7z2hQnjAUJsq0CcfKDvioyo-1pL6GFj3cvxz6ZgOzKhV9ixM_j5HoAc9OwIaz9QJueqtelPC_EFbZGoUlzQZBxMRMuAv1vXWwc2Z149wDqkHwJjnjbROuyDxjNbsO4/s1600/DSC_0846.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsOrDKZnYtHp5lbu7z2hQnjAUJsq0CcfKDvioyo-1pL6GFj3cvxz6ZgOzKhV9ixM_j5HoAc9OwIaz9QJueqtelPC_EFbZGoUlzQZBxMRMuAv1vXWwc2Z149wDqkHwJjnjbROuyDxjNbsO4/s320/DSC_0846.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406345272960679714" border="0" /></a>It was a tough ride, but the canyon was stunning and it was definitely worth it – a wonderful variety of hues as we snaked our way up through rough-hewn tunnels carved out of the rock. While we managed the journey without dropping the bikes, the route did claim two victims: the windscreen-dangling turtle that Emily bought Ric for his birthday in the Galapagos took a leap for freedom somewhere; and the bumpy rocky road put cracks in one of Emily's Touratech (Touratrash?) panniers, and more cracks in the one of Ric's that we had fixed at Jorge's in Merida.</p><br />Huaraz is apparently backed by an enormous mountain range of crisp white peaks – one of the most beautiful in the world – which remained hidden for our entire stay there. We hung around nonetheless as there happened to be a metal worker round the corner from the hostel and we thought it best to take the time to reinforce all the panniers before taking them any further. They now all weigh about twice what they used to but are seriously strong! The delay also gave us a chance to do some serious re-planning, the conclusion of which was that we need to make haste to fit in everything we want to before the end of the trip.<br /><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 131-132</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Our very friendly hostel owner in Huaraz gave us the address of his parent's place in Lima, suggesting we drop by and stay with them. As we just wanted to pass through the capital and not have to negotiate our way through the more touristy centre this worked out very nicely for us, and the delightful old couple were great hosts.<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The desert didn't stop at Lima, and we rode through more and more of it all the way to the Oasis at Huacachina. It's a bit of a touristy spot (more gringos than we'd seen in a long time) but we'd heard good things about buggy and sandboarding trips into the neighbouring sand dunes. Indeed, the trip didn't disappoint and was <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4n6N3-X897tfYpsLGbIcDP6SXKOCjrmbTB2a1LApfzZGrAljGzgjC_z4Ridh4sZ-l7s3tguyJUL_oQ-9PuoZ_K2vQlnN2PlByuIYwU31UhRzEkmE2pUNUlyLOvLcVIn6dQijjQ6bxCKUg/s1600/DSC_0936.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4n6N3-X897tfYpsLGbIcDP6SXKOCjrmbTB2a1LApfzZGrAljGzgjC_z4Ridh4sZ-l7s3tguyJUL_oQ-9PuoZ_K2vQlnN2PlByuIYwU31UhRzEkmE2pUNUlyLOvLcVIn6dQijjQ6bxCKUg/s320/DSC_0936.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406350548544856194" border="0" /></a>brilliant on all fronts: being driven round the sand dunes by a near maniac was scream-inducing fun much like being on a rollercoaster; the sandboarding was tricky but worth it (although in the end Ric gave up on the slow and difficult standing-up approach to join in with Emily's faster and easier lying-face-down method); and the scenery of never-ending dunes was spectacular, especially when after a fun few hours the trip ended with watching the sun setting over the rolling sand – awww.</p><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 133-134</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The following morning we g<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96AYB84H-YFD0Wv61Pyq1embXDBP9Hf3CNU5iIy93rFzu2qkOHJPdry8sgljBMywF_8NsHU1SOw4KxGXwda7FGg67QyNCAOkk-I57B07qvqSTQ9o22dFJFGYPvBGP3nFMQyVXggeuKne6/s1600/DSC_0062.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj96AYB84H-YFD0Wv61Pyq1embXDBP9Hf3CNU5iIy93rFzu2qkOHJPdry8sgljBMywF_8NsHU1SOw4KxGXwda7FGg67QyNCAOkk-I57B07qvqSTQ9o22dFJFGYPvBGP3nFMQyVXggeuKne6/s320/DSC_0062.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406352711155859858" border="0" /></a>ot up very bright and early and headed straight for Nazca aerodrome to get an early flight over the famous Nazca Lines for Ric (not Emily as she did the flight when she was in Peru eight years ago and so decided to save her dollars for something else – a handbag in Cuzco as it turns out...). The flight was great – perfect weather for it and Ric got to sit in the co-pilot seat so had the best view – and he managed to get onto a flight within 5 minutes of arriving which meant, we thought, that we had plenty of time to get to the next stop before dark. </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The next stop was the biggest town on the way up to Cuzco, Abancay (Cuzco being too far to realistically make it in one go). As soon as we started out, leaving the dunes and climbing into the mountains we realised we were going to need a long time for the journey: road works all over the road were causing regular 15-minute waits along the road. At one of these we got chatting with the car at the front of the queue (having obviously driven straight to the front ourselves – bikers' privilege!) who told us that the road to Abancay had been closed for the last eight days! They were also hoping to get there though so we got the sense that it might not be <i>entirely</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> closed, but had no idea what the problem actually was. If our Spanish had been better, maybe we would have gotten the full story...</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-style: normal;">After climbing through roadworks for a good few hours we stopped for lunch. Then, the roadworks stopped and the rain came. We were on a plateau of over 4,500m and it was bitterly cold as well as wet so we made pretty slow progress. We'd asked about the road closure at a petrol station and had been told that the problem was around the next major town on the way to Abancay but that we should hopefully be able to get by on the bikes. There was no other way to go except back, so onward we went. As we dropped off the plateau and the temperature rose a little we started coming across a lot of rocks in the road – piles here and there which looked to be mini landslides.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-style: normal;">We got pretty close to the town where we'd heard the main problem was and there were a few lorries waiting there. We went to the front, but with no officials and nobody volunteering any kind of explanation as to why people were waiting we just carried on down the road. This is when the piles of rocks started to get really bad. We figured there must have been an earthquake or something and that was the cause of the closure, though we couldn't fathom why they hadn't been able to clear more than one lane through the rubble in eight days. We then started to see lots of lorries and trucks coming the other way so figured we must be able to carefully pick our way through. We eventually caught up with the lorries going our way and were in the middle of their convey when we started to enter the town. As we got closer we became more perplexed. Here there were other things in the road: bits of lorry, cut down trees, burnt piles of rubble... and then we saw a mass of people at the town entrance, baying for blood, spray painting graffiti on lorries and buses as they slowly crawled through. We were pretty relieved when they cheered us and our bikes on but still didn't want to hang around in the death-mob-town for long so reckoned we'd better brave the impending darkness and carry on to Abancay, well beyond what was supposedly the epicentre of the problems, rather than lodge here as we'd been hoping to after losing so much time.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-style: normal;">So we carried on straight out of town, noticing quickly that the piles of rocks in the road were not always near where land could have slid – these were man-made landslides / rock piles presumably put there by the townspeople who were protesting. The piles seemed to subside and the rain took over. Would this nightmare ride ever end?! Not for a while: the piles of stones got worse! We were going slowly because of the rain and as it started to get dark we could see even less of the road and the rocks in our way. As we entered Abancay there were lit pyres in the road with people sitting around them. We were “allowed” into the town itself by the people stopping the rest of the traffic, so we made our way towards the centre, through the throngs of people and under the wires strung across the road, and straight up to the safest place we could find – a police station with some motorcycle police outside! The cop we spoke to was a very friendly guy who explained what was going on (</span><i>el paro –</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> the strike) and asked us where we were going tonight. “Here?” we replied. We were then hit with the news that even more protesters were arriving that night and all the roads would be blocked again in the morning! The policeman suggested we leave immediately to get out while we could, but there was no way we were embarking on a five hour journey to Cuzco wet and cold at 7pm in the dark, so we decided we would have to leave first thing in the morning to avoid the new road blocks. The policeman suggested 4am and we suggested 5am (dawn, as a policy we don't ride in the dark) and he thought this would be OK. He then led us to a hotel, through more throngs of people – it was a huge relief to park up in the safe car park and get inside!!</span></p><span style="font-style: normal;"><br />It was also quite a relief for an American family who had been holed up for a few days having had quite a bad experience on their way in two days previously. They had joined with around six lorry drivers to clear a huge landslide so they could get through – apparently the lorry drivers had definitely done it before though and made reasonably short work (a few hours) of it. They'd also driven past a group of children brandishing machetes, and had rocks thrown at their Land Rover... The policeman suggested we all left together for Cuzco first thing in the morning, so we agreed to leave at 5am. Then decided to be on the safe side and say 4am. At 2.30am Dirk knocked on our door to say that someone had just arrived from Cuzco, said the road was clear and we should leave now! So at 3am we pulled out of the hotel...</span><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Two minutes down the road we were stopped by a group of drunk men who didn't want to let us past, but after Dirk and Danielle's careful negotiation Dirk just had to accept a shot of their grog and we were allowed through. From there it was slow but sure progress around the various obstructions to the border of the region a couple of hours later, just as the new day was on us. The strikes were just within that one region – due, we gathered, to their regional leader being ousted for some reason – so once we cleared Apurimac boundaries we knew we were free and clear! At that point we bade farewell to the Land Rover (nice vehicle, but not a fast mover) and sped on to Cuzco.</span></p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-75636142858704067612009-11-13T06:01:00.000-08:002009-11-13T06:12:23.327-08:00From Darkness To DesertDays 122 – 125 <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszhGQQ3eKQ5JBnOM478ckTuEczaM1d2EjT1Y4yOu618YeQkbI4N9RrRRWPol1THRlW1OnJ41khepVKYjOY8-ogYnyp3q9d6p-tj5_06S0woDkwliLE_dxbHVXTlOPhFdq-eQ8LBZCYFyf/s1600-h/DSC_0005.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszhGQQ3eKQ5JBnOM478ckTuEczaM1d2EjT1Y4yOu618YeQkbI4N9RrRRWPol1THRlW1OnJ41khepVKYjOY8-ogYnyp3q9d6p-tj5_06S0woDkwliLE_dxbHVXTlOPhFdq-eQ8LBZCYFyf/s320/DSC_0005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403588874718664018" border="0" /></a>These days have been characterised by landscapes. First we rode the Quilatoa loop – a mostly dirt and sand ring road through indigenous villages and beautiful Andean countryside, culminating in the Quilatoa crater lake. Unfortunately the views were masked by mist and smoke which hung in the valleys under a layer of cloud the whole day, but we were still able to get a sense of it all.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We then went to Banos and rode out east – just tens of kilometres took us from highland down into jungle, and there were a number of beautiful waterfalls to visit on the way. Climbing up through caves to behind one of the falls was the highlight (and wet-light) of the journey, and the hot (and very cold) baths of Banos were a nice treat before we left the region.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">From Banos we rode up to the base camp of <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnnzDUL3Bv1XHfQcEf9kQ2WrvZC8rJk6FzjQIv0hLnxqZTpeRFwvgwSe8I2aVP6fvPaGJLlRBaJno09o1PXDlpz8i-bHoMb4vDNHJYVlOS6M5MkSkpGkbrFcrhiKsKmY07DX7v-_6KJdY/s1600-h/IMG_2514.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnnzDUL3Bv1XHfQcEf9kQ2WrvZC8rJk6FzjQIv0hLnxqZTpeRFwvgwSe8I2aVP6fvPaGJLlRBaJno09o1PXDlpz8i-bHoMb4vDNHJYVlOS6M5MkSkpGkbrFcrhiKsKmY07DX7v-_6KJdY/s320/IMG_2514.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403589295605407234" border="0" /></a>Volcan Chimborazo at 4860m. The snowy top was shrouded in cloud but we had fantastic views across the sandy high plain and beyond. From here the spectacular views just kept going as we headed south, until we'd climbed right down to almost sea-level for the border crossing to Peru! On our way we stopped at Cuenca, which is Montecristi (Panama to you) hat central. We couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet octogenarian Alberta Pulla who has been refurbishing hats since he was six years old, and who found the perfect hat for Emily.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We were slightly relieved to leave Ecuador without incident in the end. Ecuador uses a lot of hydroelectricity, which is great, except that they haven't had enough rain this year and as a result there's an electricity shortage. Blackouts have been imposed to save electricity – we experienced full blackouts in some towns, but in Cuenca they rotated the electricity by quarter throughout the day and night. Not having street lighting is bad enough, but the lack of traffic lights is absolute carnage! We saw many a near accident but thankfully weren't involved in any...<br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Day 126</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBq8D7hv3FaGB0I3ShxwnIHceXSST1DdT2NnrEGcQs94UDmQVMtR4WVWxWgtj7sIya5i6ByXXB_WHD6RJBNkMz9tubTy0LclCXhyphenhyphenMTRZGrU2eAIoMAIrefbAF7w9Q4bGJ8wfhqItDfGPL/s1600-h/DSC_0769.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBq8D7hv3FaGB0I3ShxwnIHceXSST1DdT2NnrEGcQs94UDmQVMtR4WVWxWgtj7sIya5i6ByXXB_WHD6RJBNkMz9tubTy0LclCXhyphenhyphenMTRZGrU2eAIoMAIrefbAF7w9Q4bGJ8wfhqItDfGPL/s320/DSC_0769.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403589802423518562" border="0" /></a>Within a few hours of crossing the border into Peru we met some locals at a petrol station who invited us to have lunch with them at their favourite restaurant nearby, so we hope this is a good sign of things to come! Peru was immediately different to Ecuador, though. As well as being visibly poorer with more shacks rather than buildings and a lot more rubbish around, it's also a lot dryer so far, including our first desert of South America – surprisingly cool but so windy Ric got a crick in his neck from his fancy helmet being blown around so much!</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-85049449885346142582009-11-07T19:38:00.000-08:002009-11-07T19:59:40.654-08:00Trick And Treat<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 113-114</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">While wandering the streets of Quito's colonial old town, Ric suddenly noticed some sort of liquid down one side of his trousers. Quicker than Emily could get a tissue from her pocket a lady appeared with a napkin and started wiping Ric down. She then pointed out that Ric had the same sauce like substance down his other side too, and on his camera bag which she wanted him to take off so she could wipe it. At the same time another lady appeared and started trying to take Emily's jumper off from round her waste – indeed there was also sauce on there. We've never had much occasion to suspect women brandishing napkins but even with the speed at which this event unfolded we were pretty sure something strange was going on and held onto all of our stuff pretty tightly. Sure enough some passers-by saw what was going on, ushered us into a shop and shooed off the women. Apparently it's a common trick in Quito and it's not just sauce – any sort of food stuff might be used to opportune a quick pocket pick or bag snatch, so we felt pretty lucky to have got away with just some dirty clothes (although this was pretty annoying as the rest of our clothes were in the laundry!). Chinese whispers about the attempted robbery spread through our hostel such that we got a note from our friends later in the day saying how sorry they were to hear about our stolen laptop!! But no lasting damage was done and all was forgotten later that day, when we booked a five day boat trip in the Galapagos Islands.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We spent Ri<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwTCEeoKbX6d39CcaDTttSSkkO14Dl46IONXZR-RivbuIcodkiYTKBaGnyxfYl8n9GMxHDQ5RMUzUWh6PMw-OPkRXON2JpDsB3-9Drcl7lkb1IFr6n4MTRg0uvpV37klU31fAcYhm_83Y/s1600-h/DSC_1456.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwTCEeoKbX6d39CcaDTttSSkkO14Dl46IONXZR-RivbuIcodkiYTKBaGnyxfYl8n9GMxHDQ5RMUzUWh6PMw-OPkRXON2JpDsB3-9Drcl7lkb1IFr6n4MTRg0uvpV37klU31fAcYhm_83Y/s320/DSC_1456.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401576536543175426" border="0" /></a>c's birthday, and our last day in Quito before flying off for our boat trip, learning how exhausting the altitude can be and how unfit we've become. We only climbed from the top of Quito's teleferiqo (cable car) at 4100m to the top of Rucu Pichincha at 4680m but it was a painful few hours! Fortunately we just made it to warmth, hot chocolate and food when the heavens opened, so we were spared a drenching on top of our fatigue.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Thanks to everyone for all of Ric's birthday messages! Our French friends presented him with a candle-adorned croissant in the morning and he had at least one piece of chocolate cake to celebrate! Oh, and not forgetting the trip to The Galapagos the following day...</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 115-121</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSC2qwyQu0MEeQEBDExBSiDIaCWzQ7LxkIj6hb13hfJXA8nfWWgL7ZTq-s6-XWuCfpnAQ7CM_aPbcPhsRlr1MGqjk1v2Q_AQyPG7kOaSIEGSUfdzlmqfgBkdtiyicvgKR7zxOfOCH75kI/s1600-h/DSC_0018.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSC2qwyQu0MEeQEBDExBSiDIaCWzQ7LxkIj6hb13hfJXA8nfWWgL7ZTq-s6-XWuCfpnAQ7CM_aPbcPhsRlr1MGqjk1v2Q_AQyPG7kOaSIEGSUfdzlmqfgBkdtiyicvgKR7zxOfOCH75kI/s320/DSC_0018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401575143673539714" border="0" /></a>Our cruise around the Galapagos Islands was fantastic. Our boat was much nicer than we were led to believe by the agents, our guide was very knowledgeable and our fellow passengers good company. Over the course of our four days there we literally saw more wildlife than you could shake a stick at, and at such close distances – we were astonished at how unafraid all the animals and birds were. We saw giant tortoises, huge turtles, hundreds of sea lions, multitudes of iguanas, penguins, sharks, fur seals, albatrosses, flamingoes, frigates, Darwin's famous finches (heavily used in his arguments for natural selection) and lots and lots of boobies – blue footed boobies, that is. The snorkelling on the cruise was fantastic too, and a definite highlight was seeing so many turtles and sea lions at such close quarters in their element. Although there was one point at which a huge sea lion came so close and gave Emily such a fright that she managed to manoeuvre herself out of harms way - the water - onto Ric's back!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGb57nst1i2J9UOmwkhEZ12xR6hx4mY17iJJiNREgh95MUG7FckjETVGAhZSzy7n1sje28vuZRq-9nFu-SZT6ltGyZeW6dDMZbhisDuedFfo7opGLHoYOhlTrlL-2bMpqp866PUIKfKGCl/s1600-h/PICT0435.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGb57nst1i2J9UOmwkhEZ12xR6hx4mY17iJJiNREgh95MUG7FckjETVGAhZSzy7n1sje28vuZRq-9nFu-SZT6ltGyZeW6dDMZbhisDuedFfo7opGLHoYOhlTrlL-2bMpqp866PUIKfKGCl/s320/PICT0435.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401573400600326866" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We decided that we hadn't <i>quite</i> seen enough of the aquatic life after the cruise, though, and spent an extra couple of days on one of the islands so we could do a couple of dives. We were apparently in prime hammerhead shark area although unfortunately they evaded us that day, but our disappointment was more than made up for by a huge school (or is it a flock) of eagle rays gracefully swimming around and over us, as well as some manta rays, turtles, sea lions and other water-borne delights.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Back to dry land (and the altitude) of Quito today, we were relieved to find both bikes and all the luggage we'd left behind on the mainland all present and correct.</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-84603106814611104212009-10-29T16:29:00.000-07:002009-10-30T17:42:59.772-07:00Journey To The Centre Of The Earth<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 103-105</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We decided to spend an extra day in Cartegena on account of it being so lovely! This allowed us to bump into Thom et Flo again – a French couple travelling (honeymooning, in fact) on the Adventure (slightly bigger) version of Ric's bike. We first met them while cruising the San Blas Islands on our way from Panama, when they saw the bikes on our boat and swam over for a better look and a chat. We'd already hooked up with them once in Cartegena but the chance meeting at the city fort allowed us to further discuss our plans with them. They suggested we might ride together for a bit, but weren't leaving Cartegena for another day so we decided to go on ahead, reckoning we'd bump into them further down the road.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So on we went to Medellin, the second biggest city in Columbia after the capital Bogata. The ride there took in some fantastic mountain scenery and we managed to find a cheap trucker stop with beautiful views to break for the night as it became clear we weren't going to make it in one day before dark. Medellin itself grew on us. It was a bad start as within 10 minutes of entering the crazy traffic-strewn city Emily's bike was hit... she felt the back of the bike jerk sideways throwing her off balance, and briefly thought she might find herself skidding flat onto the road in front of the oncoming trucks, 4WDs and endless mopeds, but luckily managed to get a good solid foot down on the ground and just hold the bike up. “Someone just hit me!” she called down the radio (indignantly) so Ric shook his fist and shouted at the car behind a bit, who we discovered on further inspection of the damage to the bike and panniers probably had nothing to do with the incident. Actually the damage was minimal – the main casualty was the Costa Rica butterfly sticker (a favourite!) which got scratched up a bit as (we think) one of the many mopeds glanced off it. So a bit of a drama over not much but a shock nonetheless, and our first collision of the trip.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Even upright on the bikes we still had no idea where we were going, and ended up looking for the BMW shop (our first destination that day, to sort out new tyres) in an obviously residential neighbourhood due to a lack of directions and Medellin's crazy street numbering system. Thankfully the Colombian people our a very helpful bunch, though. We asked a guy parking up his motorbike if he knew where the garage might be, and he took Ric round <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzcxpswOOxR8NlUdq-OKLiM9braeL0Xa9BgKxai0CGpv3_plXF8Q4KkEb1cUJFG1uxN28iQPM3G3Fz0lz06m6bvy8WBI8JffmqXZ9lP6fPAWMpfjVeAyLYToTQJizYEfZCgQVRy_T8-YF/s1600-h/DSC_1068.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzcxpswOOxR8NlUdq-OKLiM9braeL0Xa9BgKxai0CGpv3_plXF8Q4KkEb1cUJFG1uxN28iQPM3G3Fz0lz06m6bvy8WBI8JffmqXZ9lP6fPAWMpfjVeAyLYToTQJizYEfZCgQVRy_T8-YF/s320/DSC_1068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398389451622450290" border="0" /></a>the corner to a small scooter workshop. Ric tried to protest “Ah no, we need the <i>BMW</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> garage” but the owner of the garage was m</span><span style="font-style: normal;">ore than happy to help</span><span style="font-style: normal;"> – he shut up shop and led us on the fa</span><span style="font-style: normal;">stest scooter we've ever seen, high speed pursuit style, to the other end of town where the BMW shop was! Our hero then totally refused to accept even a little beer money for his trouble and left with just a beaming smile. After that Medellin riding adventure we were a little relieved to leave our bikes at the shop o</span><span style="font-style: normal;">vernight and get a taxi to our hostel.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The centre of Medellin also turned out to be quite nice, once we found the main hub where a pedestrian area hosts a number of quirky Botero scultpures and we had a wander round an art gallery with a number of his works and various other pieces donated from his private collection. On the way back to the hostel we discovered a bar doing 3 for 1 cocktails so the day turned out pretty well in the end!</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 106-107</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The guys at the BMW shop were incredibly helpful and as well as new tyres, we came away with some great tips on the next few days riding and some must-see places in Ecuador and Peru (they also run biking tours round South America, so really knew their stuff). From Medellin we decided to head to Solento, in the coffee growing region of Colombia, for the next two nights. Here we learnt about coffee growing of course, and went on a hike in the cloud forests of the Cocora Valley to see Columbia's national tree, the wax palm. Unfortunately the cloud forest lived up to its name again, and just as we reached the top of our hike where we were promised spectacular views of the valley we were engulfed in thick cloud and couldn't see a thing!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvEsS-rN9IbGvIqiDDWs5EXpacVKfKGqX6yP04tGO1jAWtGRTlxmGzU2upQLDTvRJ4H3e7xb2dHch0TAESqvjDOet1WSMGjldfdp30LzC25NQJkXGBhBpOrS95o5Pw2oy3BryHVhOBSO2h/s1600-h/DSC_1149_cropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 145px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvEsS-rN9IbGvIqiDDWs5EXpacVKfKGqX6yP04tGO1jAWtGRTlxmGzU2upQLDTvRJ4H3e7xb2dHch0TAESqvjDOet1WSMGjldfdp30LzC25NQJkXGBhBpOrS95o5Pw2oy3BryHVhOBSO2h/s320/DSC_1149_cropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398176122463177282" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 108-111</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">From Solento we were heading pretty much South to Ecuador, stopping in the pretty (and conveniently located for our root)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW40J1JfZngBbhuYKnjXjMCTC7OIiil6-X-HiKZREkSlrCwbz8CWGp6ELN4NaYsVxd9s64V07JVKpEA6W9po26p9s5XnxWOwb4_EWqxZAcdb98iS4KLC8zfrv0JZL4zCAPLhchhwC9kMNY/s1600-h/P1060995.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW40J1JfZngBbhuYKnjXjMCTC7OIiil6-X-HiKZREkSlrCwbz8CWGp6ELN4NaYsVxd9s64V07JVKpEA6W9po26p9s5XnxWOwb4_EWqxZAcdb98iS4KLC8zfrv0JZL4zCAPLhchhwC9kMNY/s320/P1060995.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398391590414999394" border="0" /></a> colonial town of Popoyan. We rounded the corner of our chosen hostel and who should we see outside – but Thom et Flo! This was quite a surprise as we thought they wouldn't catch us up until Quito – it was also a surprise for them, as they were at that moment telling some bikers they'd just met (Daniel and Jackie) about us! So for the last few days we've been a happy gang... three BMWs and Daniel and Jackie on their Harley (the fact that they are English and rather lovely makes up for their choice of bike).We quickly found the right pace for everyone and have enjoyed the change to group riding – more stopping, more banter and more action photos!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Our last night in Colombia was at the very impressive Santuario De Las Lajas, where there is a cathedral spanning a dramatic gorge, built on the site of a vision of the Virgin Mary in the cliffs. From here we crossed into Ecuador which was a rather tedious process thanks to a very unhelpful and slightly crazy customs officer, and made it to Otavalo before dark, fitting in a visit to the elaborate but peaceful cemetery in Tulcan on the way. Otavalo has the most fantastic crafts market, with loads of local goods and friendly, non-hassley indigenous vendors in their traditional attire.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The scenery in the last few days has been so impressive in both Colombia and Ecuador, but what has been most different since crossing the border is the indigenous people – they are tiny. We mean <span style="font-size:78%;">tiny</span>. But riding through small settlements around Otavalo (on the way to and from the fantastic local bird rescue park where we saw condors up close!), we found everyone to be as welcoming and friendly as anywhere we've been.<br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Day 112</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJptu2Dzj1iyB_9W54-SYw7gqfK41Q_m8lXb3saHS3dtZG6-y7tDU-v5Y-6bLyJzxH81uFj4aZjhkAzplePCi4Om7yGVgQp-OisinBfeMm2pGY3ZSsdXCWnTHn7NwatEe7t4TixipKWJ2i/s1600-h/DSC_1419.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJptu2Dzj1iyB_9W54-SYw7gqfK41Q_m8lXb3saHS3dtZG6-y7tDU-v5Y-6bLyJzxH81uFj4aZjhkAzplePCi4Om7yGVgQp-OisinBfeMm2pGY3ZSsdXCWnTHn7NwatEe7t4TixipKWJ2i/s320/DSC_1419.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398395981054572258" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Today, we passed a very exciting landmark on our way to Quito: the “middle of the world”! Finally the water will go down the plughole clockwise (or is it anticlockwise – the other way to how it did anyway). Oh, and here we apparently weigh less than back home due to the centripetal force of the earth's rotation, so pass the scales please (and the nachos!).</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-59985432344015155602009-10-20T08:04:00.000-07:002009-10-20T08:16:53.687-07:00Plain Sailing Round The Darien<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 96-100</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcr5uO4nWrtzvz6mstguhWsAQPBGgF4wotRm0fiVQeve2mwfD3fhMkbKHDVmqOAZNLCYTZpEIycBkAHN2Gfyz1iMS-wk4gFe0QDZgfqex6pkqQoKrtTUnyNna9O4VN83FEG1hpToZVmiVa/s1600-h/DSC_0809.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcr5uO4nWrtzvz6mstguhWsAQPBGgF4wotRm0fiVQeve2mwfD3fhMkbKHDVmqOAZNLCYTZpEIycBkAHN2Gfyz1iMS-wk4gFe0QDZgfqex6pkqQoKrtTUnyNna9O4VN83FEG1hpToZVmiVa/s320/DSC_0809.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394699466802867170" border="0" /></a>Who knew that getting motorbikes on a 47 foot sailing boat could be so much fun? Not Ric judging by the look on his face as we wheeled the bikes onto a small launch (yes, both of them in one tiny boat), took them across the marina and then winched them one by precarious one up onto the yacht. We managed to make the bikes very secure, strapping them down to compress the suspension so they held themselves firmly onto the deck, so at least we didn't need to worry about them much on the journey.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />The voyage itself was as good as promised! We visited a number of the San Blas islands, part of an autonomous region of Panama, owned and governed by their biggest indigenous group, the Cuna. The islands are all pretty much on the same lines: white sand, palm trees, wooden houses and bright blue sea, but some entirely covered in housing while others just had a couple of families living there. Our captain is friends with a few families who made us feel very welcome in their villages and homes.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Unlike most people who make this crossing, we also broke the journey by landing in the Colombian towns of Sapzurro and Capurgana on the way. These are right next to each other on the edge of the infamous Darien jungle, in a remote area right on the border of Panama, not reachable by road (and where the captain and the owner of the boat are setting up a new hostel and turtle sanctuary).</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Time on the boat was also good fun, thou<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNKEi7VFnHpxslHVvzGKD6xp-8K8UxEnIcMgNtqqmAleJsW2lbRvchBb7Ibw0TXGASigCCZfoQAfh8zCxTRdMmj9nohxDgYFC6Ylc_RHPjBwWtQv0KTIibEP7hxKYmTr-K6NylgTTEhvV5/s1600-h/DSC_0982.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNKEi7VFnHpxslHVvzGKD6xp-8K8UxEnIcMgNtqqmAleJsW2lbRvchBb7Ibw0TXGASigCCZfoQAfh8zCxTRdMmj9nohxDgYFC6Ylc_RHPjBwWtQv0KTIibEP7hxKYmTr-K6NylgTTEhvV5/s320/DSC_0982.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394700517737033682" border="0" /></a>gh – as well as watching multiple movies on the big flat screen (yes this boat was nice!) we did quite a bit of fishing and ate some of the catch. The final scores weren't so good though: we lost 7 -3. Seven fish caught the lure but got away whilst being reeled in, including a small shark when it was just feet away from the boat. We managed to catch three: a red snapper (much bigger than the ones we're used to – it was big enough to feed 6 with plenty left over); a wahoo (fastest fish in the ocean apparently); and a tuna (which came on board with a cleaner fish attached, but we didn't think that would taste quite as good in the sushi!).</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We were ready to get off the boat by the time we got to Cartegena after 4 days at sea, thanking our lucky stars that we'd managed to avoid sea sickness up to that point, and enjoyed a bit of Saturday night fun on the town.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 101-102</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Cartegena i<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQty3UJY2o8jj1dz6awT9tfZCtVFM64bFtGVO7_WSf694r3ykEiVenCpL8_bn278GHF4nLDrHpSRDxlb8kcZI4mGhO2Rztbbo0YH0jdOTtcg0BffzHzunPv10BZWHe8mCd9kD5xxARxBqH/s1600-h/DSC_0993.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQty3UJY2o8jj1dz6awT9tfZCtVFM64bFtGVO7_WSf694r3ykEiVenCpL8_bn278GHF4nLDrHpSRDxlb8kcZI4mGhO2Rztbbo0YH0jdOTtcg0BffzHzunPv10BZWHe8mCd9kD5xxARxBqH/s320/DSC_0993.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394700920030454194" border="0" /></a>s one of the nicest cities we've ever been to. The old town is all restored and full of beautiful buildings and plazas, but it's not just a tourist destination, it's an active working town. Our captain was kind enough to introduce us to a few people here, including a lovely oldish gentleman who owns a fantastic bar clad with bits salvaged from shipwrecks (who exclaimed with a sparkle in his eye “when I grow up I hope to be like you”), and a man who used to run motorbike tours in Colombia and took the time to give us some great tips on the interesting places to see and the best routes to take. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Colombia is also emerald central, and although this isn't the biggest emerald selling city it's got it's fair share of jewellery stores. And so it was that here, at last, Ric bought Emily an engagement ring!</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-57978399522932586462009-10-12T20:10:00.001-07:002009-10-20T08:03:27.061-07:00To The End Of The Road (Part 1)Days 85-88<br /><br />A few months ago we arranged to <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8YI9ZCpeQz98HynKBoTzJMxL1HJVhfoME9bgwj86eKZzF1CUKOX3bMxA7sh-e2gZe_Dl4lpJvaV52ZVGVP4KYsQHdoZryeT2eHGE0sOG6VaVsAbFOVewWeCYLDf3TtOtm5VwZUTQZ2oU/s1600-h/DSC_0517.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8YI9ZCpeQz98HynKBoTzJMxL1HJVhfoME9bgwj86eKZzF1CUKOX3bMxA7sh-e2gZe_Dl4lpJvaV52ZVGVP4KYsQHdoZryeT2eHGE0sOG6VaVsAbFOVewWeCYLDf3TtOtm5VwZUTQZ2oU/s320/DSC_0517.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394693307013234514" border="0" /></a>meet Emily's sister Alice and her boyfriend Mark in Panama, so we were on a tighter schedule than usual travelling through Central America to make sure we got there in time. Our timetable allowed us just one full day to spend somewhere along our route in beautiful and bountiful Costa Rica, and we chose a place up in the cloud forest: Monteverde. We arrived after a long day's ride from Nicaragua, culminating in a winding mountain road that, 20km from our destination, turned into a horrendous off-road track. It's not called cloud forest for nothing, and as the drizzle and rain came in and the realisation hit that we had another hour of driving on slippery and rocky surfaces rather than our supposed quarter of an hour on tarmac, we wondered if this had been the right choice! But it was. We had a fun packed day, starting with zipping through the forest on a “canopy tour”. As well as various standard zip lines there was a big Tarzan swing (on which we both screamed like girls) and a grand finale of a 1km long zip line which you could travel on Superman stylee. In the afternoon we learned about insects and butterflies, for which Costa Rica is famous, at the local butterfly farm. And in the evening we went on a guided night walk, spotting insects we'd just learned about in their natural habitats, but more importantly tracking two-toed sloths and other rarities! As we followed our guide through the forest, torches pointing in trees, another tracker put the call through on the radi<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkyWP3Gk1cbcbsQaxBw3qB7bY3dXFtM1LqCFLhlYrWg2b-ILK7JT1-w-E8DbmyM_O94HgHwvrueks0sxHH1Cb-UbrCU5IIuPL8SW4fiSU86KFPDnaEqCx2J5AnehjO_UeNAd_vWTIyks5/s1600-h/DSC_0592.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkyWP3Gk1cbcbsQaxBw3qB7bY3dXFtM1LqCFLhlYrWg2b-ILK7JT1-w-E8DbmyM_O94HgHwvrueks0sxHH1Cb-UbrCU5IIuPL8SW4fiSU86KFPDnaEqCx2J5AnehjO_UeNAd_vWTIyks5/s320/DSC_0592.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394693704873000962" border="0" /></a>o – he'd seen one! We ran to find him and to see our first sloth, just briefly (he was moving a lot faster than typical sloth-speed). As it turned out, that was just the beginning, though: before the night was through we saw a total of six sloths (including one baby), a very rare endangered kinkywatsit, a porcupine (also in the tree tops!), and a rather large red kneed tarantula which was a little scary. The only thing that attacked us, though, was a legion of army ants; thankfully we realised in time and got them all off because if 1,000 of them bite you at once it's apparently pretty painful...<br /><br />The way we came into Monteverde was unfortunately also the quickest way out, so soon after day broke we started back off down the dirt. Our route took us through the capital, so Ric was delighted to be able to ask the ubiquitous question “Do you know the way to San Jose?”. It was Sunday and we saw plenty of bike clubs out for Sunday rides – some groups of BMWs that gave us enthusiastic waves, and many roaring gatherings of Harleys, presumably imported by some of the numerous American ex-pats in Costa Rica.<br /><br />We had unusually been given som<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1085lHvtPR9Ks-IM4QifoXq_8dULQ11r0INLj5qKwwVNuo7ZqsZrpL2agQwyodb80GdopZTFvi5eNh6Y4fwY5no8AWv46unRlcrLcAih-yzvjkAQ0buaYvya-VV15edFg8AhBOxo-iOxb/s1600-h/DSC_0610.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1085lHvtPR9Ks-IM4QifoXq_8dULQ11r0INLj5qKwwVNuo7ZqsZrpL2agQwyodb80GdopZTFvi5eNh6Y4fwY5no8AWv46unRlcrLcAih-yzvjkAQ0buaYvya-VV15edFg8AhBOxo-iOxb/s320/DSC_0610.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394694658003082434" border="0" /></a>e pessimistic travel time estimations, and we reached the Carribean coast a few hours earlier than expected, so we decided to push on into Panama a day earlier than we'd planned. That border was really cool, though – not a description that usually applies to borders! The paperwork was really straightforward (and fairly cheap), but the most unique thing is that the border crossing is an old railway bridge with planks of wood laid across to span the gaps underneath (which also makes for some very tricky riding). We made it across unscathed, though, and fortunately only learnt about the horror stories of bike falls and hospitalisation once we were safe on the other side! That night disaster struck, however. We brought one series of TV programs with us on the trip and we were down to the last episode. The town where we were staying was pretty unremarkable (except for a four hour long parade of drums, bugels and dancers led by one hundred or so school kids) so we got some take-out, went back to our room and excitedly fired up the laptop... which promptly stopped working. Actually it appeared to be deteriorating before our very eyes, and when a third attempt to start it in any mode at all resulted in random symbols across the screen we ate our take-out in saddened silence. This is also our latest excuse for not writing a blog post sooner, in case you're wondering!<br /><br />One more day riding from the beautiful Caribbean coast, into the jungley Panamanian interior, over the continental divide again and out to the Pacific Coast, and we arrived in Santa Catalina in good time to find the best value beach house going and meet Alice and Mark off the bus!<br /><br /><br />Days 89-93<br /><br /><br />Santa Catalina is mainl<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0EhTDWOQ3nc1pWCmRZqS2SFDxVWc0XwhxYMFiHoXBWVjXcrNs_ftynA2Wzv7X64djXYv5rLMLD4dKafdJX2WJXiSOlChGZgrU6e_giAixuZ4lTGi7ENEEEMmeCxsoSWUFxk76CjLaQqlT/s1600-h/DSC_0642.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0EhTDWOQ3nc1pWCmRZqS2SFDxVWc0XwhxYMFiHoXBWVjXcrNs_ftynA2Wzv7X64djXYv5rLMLD4dKafdJX2WJXiSOlChGZgrU6e_giAixuZ4lTGi7ENEEEMmeCxsoSWUFxk76CjLaQqlT/s320/DSC_0642.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394695085608769730" border="0" /></a>y a surfing destination but was so quiet when we were there that we didn't see much of that. We had come there primarily to do some diving in the largely untouched waters of nearby Coiba Island (as well as some good old-fashioned chilling out). There's a prison on the island which means both the land and surrounding waters have been left almost entirely untouched by humans until relatively recently, giving them a Galapagos-like attraction. We had a lovely day for our trip over there and we were lucky enough to see a hump back whale on the way and a huge manta ray whilst diving, among loads of other fish and reef sharks!<br /><br />From Santa Catalina we headed to Panama City, stopping for the night in El Valle, another cloud forest destination, for a bit of cooler weather, and so that Alice and Mark could do a canopy tour while we went on ahead and got the bikes and the laptop dropped off for servicing. It turns out that you can quickly get your bike serviced in Panama City for a fraction of the cost in the states, you can get your computer fixed by very competent engineers for next-to-nothing, but you can't get any motorcycle tyres for love nor money.<br /><br />Panama City is quite incredible. The modern business district is full of sky scrapers, and the semi-restored old-town is both impressive in its grandeur and charming in its decay. We said a sad farewell to Ali and Mark the night before they left, with a good bottle (or two) of wine and a delicious fish supper. We were so pleased they decided to share their holiday with us – it's lovely to see a friendly face and to share our journey with people (if anyone fancies a trip to South America in the near future, let us know!).<br /><br /><br />Days 94-95<br /><br />Now to plan our escape from Panama and into South America! For those that don't know, there's no road from Panama to Colombia – just a swampy and jungley void known as the Darien Gap, populated primarily by guerillas and drug runners. Crossing it by land is impossible by car, exceedingly difficult by motorcycle, and supremely dangerous by any means. So the options to us are either flying over it or taking a boat round it. We'd talked to some people and learned that taking a plane was about the same price as a boat but quicker and a lot easier, as taking a boat involves going to one of the ports and finding someone who'd have you on board (difficult with very little Spanish) whereas there are proper agents to deal with air freight. So we decided to fly, found a relatively cheap shipper, but couldn't find out when the planes were scheduled until Monday morning.<br /><br /><br />With little else to do b<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh05jgOnhKVb0_b0Nr4L1t_CcboMT8Gw5KzEBXeRwvwb8z1xOP9-UWnbkAQTXain8cca7zGwnttM4FKIm5G2OvNOKinM79X1nwgCUJIn4As3uuUYGVMs1LhUflF1uP_0BWhk35jys4B7Vcj/s1600-h/DSC_0764.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh05jgOnhKVb0_b0Nr4L1t_CcboMT8Gw5KzEBXeRwvwb8z1xOP9-UWnbkAQTXain8cca7zGwnttM4FKIm5G2OvNOKinM79X1nwgCUJIn4As3uuUYGVMs1LhUflF1uP_0BWhk35jys4B7Vcj/s320/DSC_0764.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394695543110590418" border="0" /></a>ut wait, we spent Sunday doing a bit more sightseeing, including the Miraflores locks on the Panama Canal - quite a sight once you manage to find the place! As we were parking up back at the hostel, an American guy approached to have a chat about the bikes. It turned out that this guy was none other than “Captain Jack”, was setting sail to Colombia on Tuesday and invited us and the bikes on board! For the same price as air freighting our bikes (not including our own airfare) we're now travelling full board to Colombia on what sounds like quite a nice boat! It will probably be a four day journey and apparently we'll enjoy every minute... except if we're sea-sick, which Emily most likely will be... We'll land in Cartagena, one of Colombia's loveliest cities and ride South from there.<br /><br />“But do you have time to spend all these extra days on the boat and travelling through Colombia?” we hear you cry. Probably not, but it sounds like an adventure, doesn't it?!Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-81542715371968760662009-10-01T19:58:00.000-07:002009-10-01T20:08:29.693-07:00Bordering On Boredom<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 82-84<br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We've been border hopping for the last few days, although that makes it sound like a quick and fun process which it certainly is not! We had managed up to Guatemala without needing a 'fixer' – basically someone to help you through the process when it's far too complicated to understand yourself. At the border to El Salvador we tried again to go it alone but someone forced his help upon us and actually turned out to be reasonably useful, but we then had an awkward moment at the end where we had no idea how much of a tip to give him. We decided at that point that we should agree a price with a fixer before starting on the (known to be difficult) Honduras border.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We'd been warned that El Salvador was really crowded, with<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvKATavcoiBA_JUe__3hQL2ytGfbAMed_rbcrsrHIFcL5j8qapxJnXuy5Xggz7RVCr_59cfERZf5cqRElE6ycZM-3dsoH8XWqY38OX9HN5FqG28FY8GFORgMz9Lyxg4n9GNTTMtCParNv/s1600-h/DSC_0393.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvKATavcoiBA_JUe__3hQL2ytGfbAMed_rbcrsrHIFcL5j8qapxJnXuy5Xggz7RVCr_59cfERZf5cqRElE6ycZM-3dsoH8XWqY38OX9HN5FqG28FY8GFORgMz9Lyxg4n9GNTTMtCParNv/s320/DSC_0393.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387833295467619314" border="0" /></a> a lot of poverty (it's about the same size as Belize but with 20 times the population!). We didn't really notice this, maybe because we didn't stop in any big cities (except while getting lost in the capital, San Salvador), and the scenery was similarly beautiful to Guatemala. However our one night in El Salvador wasn't one to remember, but this was more misfortune than anything. We were later than expected and it was getting dark and raining, so we stopped at a motel on the outskirts of the town we were aiming for. It wasn't until we'd paid and got into the room that we saw the red-lit mirror above the bed and realised what sort of motel this was... thankfully the décor was the only indication we had though!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We started bright and early the next day, as we needed to get through Honduras (a bid dodgy right now) and into Nicaragua before dark (around 6pm these days). We knew the border into Honduras would be difficult and lengthy, having heard stories of four hours or more waiting for documents to be processed. Indeed, this border was exceedingly hectic and impossible to navigate alone – spread out over many miles and with no official people at all to tell you where you needed to go. The fixer got us to the front of a few queues which was essential for our schedule, but then we started to need money, and more money – whilst the few previous borders had been practically free, everything here cost money! We started to get suspicious as the costs mounted up but there was nothing to do but to follow our fixer round paying whoever he told us to pay. One of the last costs (apart from a few straight-out bribes) was for 'fumigation and sending details electronically'. There was no fumigation station anywhere to be seen yet this was apparently another essential payment to make. The fixer is 'in' with so many people – officials and non – and the processes so confusing that we had no choice but to do as he said if we ever wanted to get out of there. Finally on the other side, within 50 metres, we were stopped by police who started asking about fumigation – they wanted to fine us $10 each. However Ric replied “We have had our bikes fumigated, here is the receipt” (yes, we made sure we had receipts!). They looked a bit surprised (remember there is no fumigation station) but had to concede. It was a small win for us – at least we didn't have to pay for fictitious fumigation twice – but it did very little to lighten our mood or change our opinion of Honduras. The next few police checks happened in quick succession. A few looked like they might want money but we “no comprendo” 'd sweetly enough to get away with it. We made one stop in Honduras, at a bank to get some more cash out since we'd been relieved of so much of it at the border, and then got out of there as fast as possible!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0f2uFjkzHYO34oq7K2RpJE7xVkYMpF6Im40w-UvkIreiNwaB5d2qXjhCzXpEF7zieMqH1ozprrrL5aNcmN7_RT7z6hI53g6osysUJ5ueRBh7wafwMghZ_tMayjbT4RDU8InLfPl-GHSxp/s1600-h/DSC_0452_cropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0f2uFjkzHYO34oq7K2RpJE7xVkYMpF6Im40w-UvkIreiNwaB5d2qXjhCzXpEF7zieMqH1ozprrrL5aNcmN7_RT7z6hI53g6osysUJ5ueRBh7wafwMghZ_tMayjbT4RDU8InLfPl-GHSxp/s320/DSC_0452_cropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387833686804817522" border="0" /></a>The next border, into Nicaragua, was comparative serenity. It took quite a long time, especially as they called a meeting and all stopped working just as Ric got to the customs window, but there were helpful and patient officials who made sure that we did everything in an orderly, bribe-free and con-free manner. Instantly we liked Nicaragua.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We didn't make it as far into the country as we'd originally hoped, so have had to spend an extra day here. That's no real burden, though – we've been driving on really good topes-free roads through beautiful countryside, the people are all polite and courteous (one exception noted below). We're currently at a lovely lakeside colonial town called Granada and will be heading to Costa Rica in the morning – more border fun!</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold;">Run-Ins With The Police (Part 1)</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Now that we're around half way through our projected mileage, we thought we'd give a quick summary of our interactions with the local law enforcement along the way...</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">North America was pretty incident-free, thankfully. Our one substantial chat with a police officer was in Canada, when we were stopped in a lay-by studying the map. A patrol car pulled up and the cop who got out was eager to tell us all about the places along our route that we had to go to (and should have been to!), even saying about one road that “if you don't go there I'll have to put you in the back of the car and take you there myself”.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">In Mexico we got pulled over by the police a couple of times (though not as often as by the army checkpoints). The police there had a few standard questions: “how fast does it go?”, “how much does it cost?” and “what is this?” (pointing to the GPS). Yes, they were just bored and curious. Jorge in Merida who rides a huge Victory cruiser has apparently been asked a few times “does it fly?”!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">In Nicaragua we've suffered (remarkably for the first time) the major occupational hazard of long-distance motorcycling – getting stopped for speeding. The speed limits in Nicaragua are ridiculously slow, especially considering what lovely roads they have. Fairly predictably the fine started off as a very large official one ($65 each, to be paid at the bank), but with a bit of pleading in Spanglish and generally being awkward, Ric managed to negotiate a “pay now” fine (i.e. a bribe) instead, and got it down from $40 to $20 – result!</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-68322672282535305992009-09-29T06:39:00.000-07:002009-09-29T06:59:51.203-07:00Belize Is Beautiful, Guatemala Is GreatDays 76-77<br /><br />Once we'd stopped at the beach in Mexico we found it hard to leave, so having spent an extra day there we'd be spending less than 24 hours in Belize, zooming across most of the small country the same day we came in and not bothering with the (more expensive, and away-from-the-bikes) islands.<br /><br />All this staying extra days in Mexico had another consequence which we didn't realise until we reached the border – we had outstayed our visa by three days! While Emily had visions of Mexican jail, Ric was directed hither and thither to talk to different people and try to work things out. In the end they couldn't really be bothered with the paperwork so just sent us on our way - phew!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6hZn7CMNWjXbKVvSXfGOOQ_SJTKSeU6kPDqxLgO1PjhO5AFbM4yaXqNg2bbEmwCnh0DF4beCXQqvgWTYrhDWS8b9zcxz-eTlQsM0vTRelPCpuOW3q42rP6SardNG8QGnMbCEZ7QfS83F/s1600-h/DSC_0048.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6hZn7CMNWjXbKVvSXfGOOQ_SJTKSeU6kPDqxLgO1PjhO5AFbM4yaXqNg2bbEmwCnh0DF4beCXQqvgWTYrhDWS8b9zcxz-eTlQsM0vTRelPCpuOW3q42rP6SardNG8QGnMbCEZ7QfS83F/s320/DSC_0048.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386885212174786450" border="0" /></a><br />So we found ourselves over the border with a 1-day transit visa. This was something we instantly regretted as we had no idea Belize would be quite so nice. Maybe it was the relieving fact that everybody spoke English (Belize being ex-British Honduras), maybe it was the laid back Caribbean feel (nobody is in a hurry in Belize, as indicated by the fact that not one single person overtook us while we were in the country), or maybe it was because it was just a beautiful place.<br /><br />Whatever it was, though, we didn't want to leave so the next day we went to the border and blagged an extra day! That afforded us a walk in some great botanical gardens (where we saw our first tarantula in the jungle section, thankfully dead) and a bit more time to absorb some of the atmosphere.<br /><br /><br />Days 78-81<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpg5LNUwkvXsgDoE0W-chBhtsHpYUT4aqgwztv41Wp9FlWG0PpHSJUJCI9-pgFOKt93B6rr4poT0lyH1RePdSAWMhS5c5xFlDhE-H6JNFenwg0f0Xa4t3aj4uv6oBkQud_i7GBR8Wh8Di1/s1600-h/DSC_0168.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpg5LNUwkvXsgDoE0W-chBhtsHpYUT4aqgwztv41Wp9FlWG0PpHSJUJCI9-pgFOKt93B6rr4poT0lyH1RePdSAWMhS5c5xFlDhE-H6JNFenwg0f0Xa4t3aj4uv6oBkQud_i7GBR8Wh8Di1/s320/DSC_0168.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386885804872895234" border="0" /></a>Our Guatemalan experience began with the famous ruins at Tikal. We've seen a lot of Mayan ruins recently, but this one stands out because it's spread out in an enormous rainforest that you can look out at from some of the taller structures. It's also quite un-restored, so you get more of an idea of what it must have been like for the first archaeologists to come across the huge structures completely covered in jungle. And in that jungle we also saw lots of cool wildlife, like spider monkeys, wild turkeys (which look more like peacocks than the turkeys we know), and a big raccoon-type thing.<br /><br />We're now in Ant<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKI8U2tkq8vD0asP2ndX-U_ba4p0JreI2G5AxJ8_XFIfc2jwrf3FdC1C2w_AleA7qMWlSVI25eperfqJeJqzANL-vICvTL2Bqu8CtemXwDByu5W0o_BNKdBBaPoYsIedv1NEbW5J8MaQx/s1600-h/DSC_0326.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKI8U2tkq8vD0asP2ndX-U_ba4p0JreI2G5AxJ8_XFIfc2jwrf3FdC1C2w_AleA7qMWlSVI25eperfqJeJqzANL-vICvTL2Bqu8CtemXwDByu5W0o_BNKdBBaPoYsIedv1NEbW5J8MaQx/s320/DSC_0326.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386886338420295410" border="0" /></a>igua, the old capital of Guatamala (before it was destroyed by volcanic activity) which is nestled in the mountains between three volcanoes and is part trendy gringo town and littered with crumbling, gleaming and half-restored buildings. We have taken a day to see the stunning Lake Atitlan, surrounded by more dramatic volcanoes and traditional villages; and yesterday we climbed the closest active volcano. It's quite a luxury for us to spend three nights in one place, but we're planning on going through four countries in the next three days so it's nice to have a bit of a rest first!Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-80055169842683077562009-09-27T19:07:00.000-07:002009-09-27T19:16:24.094-07:00A Reflection On Mexico<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Before we came to Mexico we were warned by practically every North American we met about the place – Mexico has received a lot of bad press, it seems. Some warnings were factual (“The drug cartels rounded up and shot dead all the police in Tijuana last year”), some were even from people who had been there (“I used to go biking in Baja California all the time but haven't gone for 3 years now”), and some were quite amusing for us Brits, like Ric's favourite exchange with a Harley rider:<br /> - Yerr goin' to Mexico?<br /> - Yes, that's the plan<br /> - You gotta guuhn?<br /> - Er, no, I don't have a gun<br /> - Well you better geet one!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Now that we've spent over a month and ridden some 4,000 miles in the country we feel it's time to set the record straight and give some feedback to any of you who are still following our blog. Yes, there is some fighting between drug cartels, and between them and the army, but the only evidence we ever saw of this was being passed by army vehicles on the road and being stopped at numerous army checkpoints (it seems they particularly like to stop bikes) where they very politely asked to look through our luggage. All of the Mexicans we met were overwhelmingly hospitable and honest, and at no time did we ever sense any danger to either ourselves or our possessions. Admittedly we didn't hang around in any border towns and we were always careful not to flash too much cash around and to keep a close eye on our things, but that's just common-sense stuff we practice everywhere.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We were really blown away by the amount of history and culture in Mexico. Because we know so many North Americans come to Europe for such things we weren't expecting to find it so close, but actually Mexico has loads to offer from ancient Maya ruins to Spanish colonial architecture. Not just this but the scenery is fabulous, the roads are generally in very good condition (although the toll roads are a little on the expensive side), and the food is tasty and surprisingly diverse!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And as for swine flu – there are no people dying on the streets! We didn't see any effects of it, and a number of good sources tell us that it's no worse than a normal seasonal bout of flu.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The Mexican people have taken us in, showed us around, looked after us and generously shared their country with us, and it's been unfailingly great. So don't be put off by the media and go and discover an amazingly diverse and interesting country if you're lucky enough to get the chance.</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-68096233832649378272009-09-22T14:39:00.001-07:002009-09-22T17:08:48.110-07:00Ruined!<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We really have some catching up to do – sorry folks!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 67-68</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Setting out early from San Cristobal we rode out of the mountains into the jungle and to the Mayan ruins at Palenque. On the way we stopped at the ruins of Tonina. These ruins are much less impressive and therefore much less visited by tourists so we had the run of the place. It was also a welcome break from the terrible road we had to drive to get to Palenque. The road surface was generally fine, and it was twisty and scenic; the problem was the topes... Topes are all over Mexico, so this is not a new thing, but the quantity and surprise nature of these particular topes has yet to be surpassed. Every cluster of one or two houses had at least three lying in wait on the road, hiding in the long morning shadows, and every now and again going into or coming out of a sharp turn in the road would reveal a nasty topes-surprise. Very few warnings or signs alerted us of the impending danger, though Ric's emergency breaking and swearing across the radio acted as warning for Emily a few times. Yes, topes are Mexian's “sleeping policemen”: whilst we understand the requirement to reduce speed in settlements, it's pretty hard to do so once you're flying through the air.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Beca<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA64X3IllvIP0aRh4cLrZKpyULoetQcR7A-0Yb9xYeRxWhKIyp6G5kMaxDSh3wykmLka5Jf-k9Wl3gJUiv5tGMMdqMwdtAFiYucBmq4HmxNhJbVeRlq4XEc2-DsQpc_3sbFUvcsuOsu5HT/s1600-h/DSC_0090.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA64X3IllvIP0aRh4cLrZKpyULoetQcR7A-0Yb9xYeRxWhKIyp6G5kMaxDSh3wykmLka5Jf-k9Wl3gJUiv5tGMMdqMwdtAFiYucBmq4HmxNhJbVeRlq4XEc2-DsQpc_3sbFUvcsuOsu5HT/s320/DSC_0090.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384415886147888946" border="0" /></a>use the journey took a bit longer and the ruins closed a bit earlier than we thought, we didn't get to see Palenque ruins properly until the following morning. With the jungle backdrop they were the most exciting we'd seen though also the hottest and most humid. We made an important purchase at the ruins – a hand held fan for 50p – which has been in almost constant use since. From Palenque we travelled North, had lunch in Tobasco state, and made it to Campeche by early evening. It was Independence Day in Mexico and as we investigated the public area where the fiesta would be later on we saw a hotel that had been on our list of those to try (we have a few on the list in case our chosen one is full or there's nowhere to leave the bikes - we're not organised enough to contact them all in advance). We were just discussing whether they would have let us drive our bikes into their lobby when, lo and behold, we saw a 1200GS with Canadian plates already in there, which answered our question but of course raised many others! We asked if the owner of the bike was around and met Victor – an Argentinian who lives in British Columbia and who is headed the same way as us. We had a good evening chatting about our experiences and our plans, and got a few good tips for the roads to come, as well as some emergency contacts (his family) in Argentina. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Later on that evening we enjoyed the Independence Day celebrations which involved some sort of traditional dancing accompanied by more modern musical-style singing, and at one point live cock fighting, making a slightly odd family show, in our opinion! We've been assured since that this is quite normal. This was all followed by a 1970s latino heartthrob who appears to be famous here– he certainly had all of the Mexicans, grannies and kids alike, running to the stage drooling! Not fully understanding the local culture, we just found the glittery white suite and long wavy locks quite amusing in an ABBA-esque kind of way.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 69-71</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The road from Campeche to Merida is littered with Mayan ruins, all with a different Puuc style of architecture so we visited three of these the following day before getting settled into Merida for the night. One of our new Mexico City friends, Ernesto, had given us the number of a friend of his in Merida, saying he was a biker and that he would love to meet us. So once settled into our Merida hotel we made the phone call to arrange to meet up for a drink with Jorge that evening. We had no idea when calling up Jorge that we would be greeted not just by one person but by his whole wonderful family! They insisted that we come and stay with them and allow them to show us around the region over the next few days - an offer we could hardly refuse! We had a brilliant few days, up at their beach house at the nearby Progresso bay, on their boat and swimming in the Atlantic Ocean for the first time on the trip, riding our bikes with their two sons (also on BMW GSes) to nearby towns and to a secret cenote (cavern like hole in the ground filled with fresh water – a bit of a mystery of the region), <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiUnhPtqT-XcIczG49G60LRDyX1qlnM_Oe8g60zUE3eyfxk3fql0fVS_7PVVIu33dV9IRKJeFtdmZZuQk-0zz9vnpI9LS3J6fr__jUjVEgiW7hthnlo_DObTzlC3Qo8f-ZwnUOiXGiJOqm/s1600-h/DSC_0221.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiUnhPtqT-XcIczG49G60LRDyX1qlnM_Oe8g60zUE3eyfxk3fql0fVS_7PVVIu33dV9IRKJeFtdmZZuQk-0zz9vnpI9LS3J6fr__jUjVEgiW7hthnlo_DObTzlC3Qo8f-ZwnUOiXGiJOqm/s320/DSC_0221.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384443756282490018" border="0" /></a>sampling the local food and hanging out with the extended family. We also found out where Ernesto's classic 1956 BMW had come from as Jorge has a whole collection of '50s and '60s classic BMWs which he's lovingly restored. Jorge also insisted on having his "help" clean our bikes (for the first time in Mexico) and fixing Ric's cracked pannier, which we were starting to seriously worry about. On top of all this, Jorge has travelled through Central America and was able to offer advice on routes and places to stay for the next ten or so days.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Our last night was Friday night and we were invited to go to the Merida theatre for a musical performance and then on to a Cuban club (BuenaVista style)! As the family donned their glad rags Emily was mortified to find that the best outfit she could muster for an evening of culture and dancing was: walking sandals, a shabby faded knee-length skirt, and a linen top she'd bought two days previously at a market for three pounds fifty! That aside, we had a fantastic evening, managed not to drink toooo many mojitos and left feeling pretty refreshed the next day.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Day 72</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESPtGCcPPOQAwJOcSswEHhvgpgzQ-_48s-kx33UyDHIrS5VL1wkedFdQJoySJkIcKKQ6BDFIRAkw70EgaveGH0x9A4_DO_DRrUGPARFOFk9OyzXrT5-Nxp-1NZ98jk6f01qOpiFGLLLHy/s1600-h/DSC_0263.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESPtGCcPPOQAwJOcSswEHhvgpgzQ-_48s-kx33UyDHIrS5VL1wkedFdQJoySJkIcKKQ6BDFIRAkw70EgaveGH0x9A4_DO_DRrUGPARFOFk9OyzXrT5-Nxp-1NZ98jk6f01qOpiFGLLLHy/s320/DSC_0263.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384442039189624482" border="0" /></a>This day was what you would call a Bad Day. It started in hight spirits – leaving our new friends and heading towards Tulum on the East coast of the Yucatan with only three hours of riding and one ruin to visit on the way. About an hour down the road, Ric came on the radio asking “does this road feel funny to you” - a question often asked when the surface makes it feel like your back tire is flat. “Erm...” replied Emily, “No, I think there's something wrong with your tire!”. We pulled over and sure enough a two inch nail had embedded itself in Ric's rear tire. We managed to plug the tire with our “stop and go” puncture repair kit that we'd picked up in Anchorage within one hot and tiring hour. Ric was heroic with the hand pump when it came to pumping the tire back up! Emily did her best to help with refreshments, and the fan of course.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">On we went to the ruins of Chitchen Itza – one of the world's seven wonders that we had to see on the way. As we'd lost an hour it was way over lunch time and we needed to cool down so we went to the restaurant before looking round. As we ate we read what our guide book said about the ruins and learned that because we were so close to the equinox we should be able to see the light cast shadows on the main pyramid in such a way that there appears to be a snake weaving down it – how fortunate we thought! We came out of the restaurant at 3.15 refreshed and excited to look at the ruins. However, at this point the sky was also ready to drop millions of gallons of water on the whole area. We waited under highly inadequate trees, getting thoroughly soaked but trying to protect the less waterproof things on us (camera, passports, etc), as the water level rose around us. The rain finally eased off enough for us to see anything at 4.20, ten minutes before the site closed for the day. We saw what we could which did not include a snake winding it's way down the pyramid as there was no sun at all! </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Now even further behind schedule we arrived at the coast as it was getting dark, our GPS was lost and confused and we'd forgotten the instructions of where to go from our hosts. We found ourselves next to a couple of hotels so decided to check into one for the night, and call it a day. We weren't entirely surprised to be swarmed by mosquitoes as we unpacked the bikes – it was that time of day - but we were more disturbed to find our bank had chosen this day to block our cards and we were running out of cash. We changed a small amount of emergency dollars so we could buy dinner and then used our last little bit of local currency to get online to contact the bank. After all of that we slept surprisingly well!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 73-75</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The rain continued in Tulum so after a quick look<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlATrlU8AM75I5UF_zpLbJi9bW2u-YPpQwXo6KqzpGDOmPOyuhSgRCJZmFTUNFFfqEi0tyhi3Jvc8Q5troqeJi6VfOrnnhk0v_xgfkuY-pBLnmR_W4eOTCHeprOAjQhQEkkTArcWGDf2E/s1600-h/DSC_1245_straightened.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlATrlU8AM75I5UF_zpLbJi9bW2u-YPpQwXo6KqzpGDOmPOyuhSgRCJZmFTUNFFfqEi0tyhi3Jvc8Q5troqeJi6VfOrnnhk0v_xgfkuY-pBLnmR_W4eOTCHeprOAjQhQEkkTArcWGDf2E/s320/DSC_1245_straightened.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384447785595409282" border="0" /></a> round the ruins (unique because they're right on the coast, with a beach in the middle of them) we headed South to Xcalak, at the end of the Costa Maya peninsular. It's beautiful and remote here, there's a marine park running along the coast and if you look south you can see Belize! So we've done a bit of diving, kayaking, snorkeling, a bit more relaxing, and a bit of reflection as we get ready for the rest of the Central America countries. We'll be leaving Mexico in the morning...</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-57778799125379088162009-09-13T16:40:00.000-07:002009-09-13T17:02:45.346-07:00We Get WetDays 61-63<br /><br />Leaving Oaxaca we had a beautiful mountain drive ahead of us to get to Zipolite, an old fishing village with a beautiful long beach and now a bit of a travellers' hangout. Just after lunch we felt a few drops of rain and Emily asked if we should put our waterproofs on. “No”, Ric replied confidently, “we're driving out of the mountains now anyway so we should be fine”. It was true that as we rode out of the mountains we rode into sunshine, but this was after an hour of of the most torrential rain, thunder and lightening that either of us of had ever seen, let alone been right in the middle of as we slithered our way down the twisty road. Water gushed down the sides of the mountain in muddy waterfalls, turning the road into one big flash flood interspersed with landslides. It was raining so hard we couldn't see with our visors down so had to ride with them up and endure the stinging rain in order to see anything, and even then we could only see a few meters as we were driving through the storm clouds. We could have tried to stop and shelter under a tin hut or something on the way down but our radios had stopped working due to being soaked, and anyway, where's the adventure in that...? When we'd driven o<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI66aBNQGG2y383HfEGgR3fDDBWAZCEBxAahjirRO6gzIMkdhV2vABqsbtjBfanHQoar-jloH-TjmVy0WhCVbWdZDBIhEWKwPLJbzkOBB48xj_i2oFd4amhQ-Y75f5DJPKWWB7aLJ9Ed7M/s1600-h/DSC_1898.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI66aBNQGG2y383HfEGgR3fDDBWAZCEBxAahjirRO6gzIMkdhV2vABqsbtjBfanHQoar-jloH-TjmVy0WhCVbWdZDBIhEWKwPLJbzkOBB48xj_i2oFd4amhQ-Y75f5DJPKWWB7aLJ9Ed7M/s320/DSC_1898.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381104676983271650" border="0" /></a>ut into the bright sunshine at the bottom we pulled into a petrol station and as we started ringing out our gloves, the attendant asked innocently “Did it rain?”!<br /><br />We spent the next few days drying out in Zipolite... seafood, sun, snorkelling and surf. The waves were pretty brutal so we weren't able to swim in the sea much, but had fun watching the multitudes of surfers and body boarders doing their thing while we relaxed on the beach.<br /><br /><br />Days 64-66<br /><br />We're now in San Cristobal in Ciapas state, back up in the mountains and the cooler climes. We'd looked up a hostel here but found it closed. However, fate shone on us once more when one of the seven Ciapas BMW club members happened to drive by and see us consulting our map. Fransisco pulled up for a bit of a chat and invited us to stay at the beautiful hotel he owns right on the town square for a very generous rate, so now we're in the lap of luxury... We really like Mexican BMW owners!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUHbPTxlD2yuurVoRGc0M7L0o3DvM6222U8gnCDT7ah-fxBUSJwK5DtsghPfdQwEmecxFx9Jvq2Y4x2gikyEHrxczsAKZKXNqh8-iuRDjjvh6Wd9ym5HLiS5h0TrCzRRibhQaONW7QwMQ/s1600-h/DSC_0005.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUHbPTxlD2yuurVoRGc0M7L0o3DvM6222U8gnCDT7ah-fxBUSJwK5DtsghPfdQwEmecxFx9Jvq2Y4x2gikyEHrxczsAKZKXNqh8-iuRDjjvh6Wd9ym5HLiS5h0TrCzRRibhQaONW7QwMQ/s320/DSC_0005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381103602875720770" border="0" /></a>This area is full of very traditional indigenous villages so we visited a couple of these today. There were no photos allowed at the first which is a shame because there was the most bizarre church there. Half catholic and half traditional religious beliefs, apparently this church is entirely unique and has special permission from the Vatican to be thus – worshipping the sun, not using the bible and yet having a resident catholic priest conducting baptisms and confirmations inside. The second village was less busy and more relaxed – we visited a very welcoming family who had us try on their traditional wedding dress, sample the local alcoholic corn drink “bosh” and eat some very yummy freshly made tortillas.Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-20683609346073693352009-09-07T18:51:00.000-07:002009-09-07T19:04:22.327-07:00Friends And Food<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 55-57</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Mexico City was an altogether very friendly experience for us. Whilst we were looking for our hotel when first arriving in Mexico City we joined a queue of traffic right behind a local BMW Adventure – a slightly bigger version of Ric's bike. This was quite exciting as we have only seen a handful of BMW bikes since entering Mexico. Within a couple of changes of the lights the rider of the said bike, Juan Jose, had made friends with Ric, given us his number to meet up the next day and offered to lead us to our hotel – off we went, through a few police road blocks (apparently they don't apply to motorbikes), a few turns our GPS probably wouldn't have known about and we were there (well, we thought we were – there then ensued a search for a hotel with parking, but that's a different story).</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Th<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybtnzzlaZS_p-FYdRp8SkLvBg26cAYfISnQGkWwvgavOqhagBhm3NYvhhSzVPABIuhLxD-iJGkG8hq_oACxoSoqm28AiSGZOiba1AW-xk-KPDoEJd50O3fXk9I-mNRCVeHxjZsxf7NzSu/s1600-h/DSC_1750.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybtnzzlaZS_p-FYdRp8SkLvBg26cAYfISnQGkWwvgavOqhagBhm3NYvhhSzVPABIuhLxD-iJGkG8hq_oACxoSoqm28AiSGZOiba1AW-xk-KPDoEJd50O3fXk9I-mNRCVeHxjZsxf7NzSu/s320/DSC_1750.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378909389510706114" border="0" /></a>e following day we went to see the nearby awesome Teotihuacan pyramids, dating back thousands of years. We met up with Juan Jose and his friends Andres and Ernesto (all BMW riders, and with Ernesto on a mint-condition 1956 classic), plus girlfriends that evening and were treated to a great French / Italian dinner. There we made plans to meet Juan Jose again the following day so he could show us a few sites around Mexico. After a drive around and a second delicious meal with our new friends we were really very sad to leave that afternoon - unfor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAC3fZW7Z7BeikWNev5SBnaXQgMr1VMxgajaFFl2MUwZoGtwIsW0gzkFlSLi-RdmRvs-bN0t7BZvjDDB5hh4N9kUuuxOZ7oWaCgeON0WglUOvJdDV1DgIEHcq173GuqHVWMupaJlPWUADS/s1600-h/DSC07929.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAC3fZW7Z7BeikWNev5SBnaXQgMr1VMxgajaFFl2MUwZoGtwIsW0gzkFlSLi-RdmRvs-bN0t7BZvjDDB5hh4N9kUuuxOZ7oWaCgeON0WglUOvJdDV1DgIEHcq173GuqHVWMupaJlPWUADS/s320/DSC07929.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378909695894169842" border="0" /></a>tunately <i>the schedule must be obeyed at all costs</i>, or so we were thinking until we were still trying to leave Mexico City a few hours later (in Friday rush hour and rain) and doubly wished we'd stayed!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Andres is in fact the editor of Mexico's only BMW bike magazine and happened to be doing a feature on women riders, so Emily might even appear in the next edition! We also now have a few contacts in other places in case of emergencies which are invaluable, so we're altogether extremely grateful for this fortuitous meeting!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Apparently Juan Jose makes a habit of meeting tourists on motorbikes and befriending them so if anyone's reading this and about to go to Mexico City, look out for a shortish guy ( :o) sorry Juan Jose!) on an Adventure and you won't want to leave!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 58-60</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMImM65YYb3IbNYPSbUO_TyoN8p47xM8mEHRnBUp3sexgLsOh3yvFIbcdL2lTNv311u6Kiz_8evLjDOaahxo0tZ02QU-qKc2f9UNzxo83w3qyBoT2Ue0-MjgtMKs2_Xf76mW0S_A4D8Eh/s1600-h/DSC_1879.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMImM65YYb3IbNYPSbUO_TyoN8p47xM8mEHRnBUp3sexgLsOh3yvFIbcdL2lTNv311u6Kiz_8evLjDOaahxo0tZ02QU-qKc2f9UNzxo83w3qyBoT2Ue0-MjgtMKs2_Xf76mW0S_A4D8Eh/s320/DSC_1879.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378910134640708338" border="0" /></a>From Mexico we rode to Puebla and then onto Oaxaca, the food capital of Mexico. Exhausted, we were pleased to have scheduled an extra day here and took advantage of the time by doing a one day cookery course, so hopefully we can recreate some of the culinary delights when back home. One of the specialities, grasshoppers fried in chilli, onion and garlic, is not something we'll be trying at home, though actually it was pretty nice... We'll stick more to the also-traditional dishes made with chocolate (both sweet and savoury) – yum!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4806116027408163139.post-77927204512593063752009-09-04T07:11:00.000-07:002009-09-04T07:42:09.599-07:00The Sea, The Highlands, And Into The Big Smoke<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It's been quite a while since our last post, and we've been pretty busy, so brace yourself for a fairly long one...</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 49-50</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">After recovering from the Copper Canyon we <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9WGxIp7yE9_nq3ZTfHIYUtY07PGf81Efdz24A4ltiH7cxFAJzVoDwnuIHhUc7wEj2mOGkJum6NDc0uifrC_5CDBcFdjC2Ybc-4Fej1og7w2gJLYtpeBBIgMn7dtQjPHrM63moZy6rYBhJ/s1600-h/DSC_1593.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9WGxIp7yE9_nq3ZTfHIYUtY07PGf81Efdz24A4ltiH7cxFAJzVoDwnuIHhUc7wEj2mOGkJum6NDc0uifrC_5CDBcFdjC2Ybc-4Fej1og7w2gJLYtpeBBIgMn7dtQjPHrM63moZy6rYBhJ/s320/DSC_1593.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377617139929165730" border="0" /></a>rode to Mazatlan, on the coast of the Pacific Ocean – our first ocean sighting since the Arctic! We had a fun couple of days looking around the colonial old-town, chilling out on the beach, and eating some fantastic seafood which we're hoping to repeat at our next seaside stop. The only downside of Mazatlan was the heat and humidity which had us arriving at the hotel literally pouring with sweat!</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It was in Mazatlan that we had the first indoor parking for the bikes. Indoor being inside the hotel itself. We were a little surprised at being invited to bring them in, but since then we haven't been at all phased about riding them up pavements and into doorways off busy streets. It's so nice to know that they're safe, even if there probably isn't any real danger for them outside.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Days 51-55</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We headed back into the mountains to visit some old colonial centres on some beautiful twisty roads, including “The Devil's Spine” - a road on a ridge between two expansive valleys meaning some amazing views. We've since been on a plateau at about 2000m above sea-level, which is much cooler, and also home to quite a bit of British-like drizzly rain. In each of these towns we found random celebrations in plazas, marching bands, and more, so despite the rain, or maybe partly because of it, we've felt relaxed and right at home.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Surprisingly Durango, our first stop, has a <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNF2HGHEruXfuZ4btJlN5D5cBouovwcmG_D3QskOXdooIpuZK6KgXLPekHJU8sQvHMOWcNSpKqaUuJXZIxfGmUNQoGnNOTgVxkSgft2X_pXA8Gjhi06tbKKBlI2YmkyU3tQvTRpAG78vqf/s1600-h/DSC_1610.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNF2HGHEruXfuZ4btJlN5D5cBouovwcmG_D3QskOXdooIpuZK6KgXLPekHJU8sQvHMOWcNSpKqaUuJXZIxfGmUNQoGnNOTgVxkSgft2X_pXA8Gjhi06tbKKBlI2YmkyU3tQvTRpAG78vqf/s320/DSC_1610.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377621552637882674" border="0" /></a>desert like climate and was the home of many a John Wayne western in it's hay-day. We stumbled across a bus in town that took us to an old movie set, and had to watch some Mexican gun-slinging type entertainment before being allowed back into town (it was quite fun really, and the spanish-speaking people all thought it was very amusing)!<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We then stopped at the old silver mining towns of Zacatecas and Guanajuato. In Zacatecas we were able to go down an old mine which was pretty cool as you could see the mineral seem in the rock go from the top to seven floors down. We also got some culture at a rather scary masks museum – full of old masks used in theatre, carnival and other celebrations and ceremonies. Unfortunately we forgot the camera this day, which is a shame as the museum was also in the grounds of a beautiful crumbling old convent.<br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKlPtX2v5Y8PKpX4IgmGNAcag2wPT6EQ5sr_BHDGSNpjjApQhU2uo9pbCkC-DlxGSiwyEjRnMcv7PIbrHzZHJgc7Or7UXQ6BmXU9p6ZaTeL5DxQIOHCw3vjv8ez2xMd2gxMdQCSwPLGex/s1600-h/DSC_1664.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKlPtX2v5Y8PKpX4IgmGNAcag2wPT6EQ5sr_BHDGSNpjjApQhU2uo9pbCkC-DlxGSiwyEjRnMcv7PIbrHzZHJgc7Or7UXQ6BmXU9p6ZaTeL5DxQIOHCw3vjv8ez2xMd2gxMdQCSwPLGex/s320/DSC_1664.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377618919685020562" border="0" /></a>Guanajuato, which for many years produced 20% of the World's silver, was our favourite town. Its pretty plazas and colonial buildings were on a par with the other towns, but with a university of 20,000 it has a really young and vibrant feel. The only downside of it was that with a complicated one-way system of tunnels in old river-beds running under and around the city centre and the general uselessness of the GPS (more on this later) it took us 1.5 hours to find a suitable place to stay!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Last on the list was Morelia. Bigger than the other towns its centre was the grandest and it was wandering the streets of Morelia that we made a decision: to go to Mexico City. We had decided not to do this because of the whole 20 million people / 4 kidnaps per day / swine flu central type of warnings but Emily got it into her head that we should just go there and see it for ourselves, so we did. It was surprisingly easy to get here though we spent a small while looking for a hotel where we could park the bikes safely. It wasn't until afterwards that we realised our guidebook has parking symbols next to hotels with car parks! Hopefully none of the scary warnings will be realised – certainly it seems ok so far...</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Navigation, the roads and drivers</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Since being on real roads again we've come across a few surprises about driving in Mexico. Firstly, they have very good roads! Unfortunately a lot of these are very expensive cuota or toll roads, often working out at about M$1 per km for each bike, meaning we've often paid about the same in tolls as we have for a night's accommodation! These roads are also boring motorways, but trying to find the more interesting libres (free roads) is more than a little tricky, and apparently more dangerous, due to an increased risk of roadside robberies and corrupt police who might flag you down and ask for money (though we haven't seen any real evidence of that actually happening).</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Our GPS doesn't know about a lot of the cuotas and generally gets lost trying to find the right way on the libres. It also doesn't know about one-way streets, or about steps, and the fact that vehicles don't generally want to drive on them. We've managed not to turn up any roads made of stairs, but have made it part way the wrong way down some one-way streets (they don't seem to have no entry signs here) and have been directed up and down some pretty scary cobbled 45 degree inclines for no good reason, which is tedious (and a little frightening in the rain).</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It's not just the GPS that's out to get us though. Our next biggest opponent is the left-indicator. We were a little surprised in Alaska to discover that in American cars the brakes and indicators often share the same lights. So what looks like the car in front braking a bit is sometimes the car in front telling you he's about to turn left across all the traffic. Here in Mexico we have encountered a whole other meaning of left indication - when a car or truck is driving particularly slowly on a single lane road they'll put their left indicator on when there's a gap for you to overtake. This is kind and helpful but you must use it with care. They <i>could</i> mean “overtake me now”, or the more traditional “I'm turning left”, or, often in Mexico, “I'm braking erratically and my right brake light is broken”. Since arriving in Mexico City it often just means “I forgot / can't be bothered to turn my indicator off as I'll probably want to use it again soon anyway (and it doesn't seem to cancel automatically)”. But don't be too sure – sometimes when you think it must mean the latter it actually means “I'm a complete nutter and really do want to overtake you even though it's a blind corner... please will all other traffic, yes oncoming too, move onto the hard shoulder so that I can get to where I'm going one minute faster”.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So we read the left indicator light with caution these days!</p>Ric and Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04791381424754075926noreply@blogger.com0