Argentina! Woot woot!

Shortly after crossing the border I’m able to see the tallest mountain in South America, Aconcagua 6962 m (22,841 ft). I thought about climbing it, but then I thought better of it and just took a picture.

A few more kilometers down the road and I find the migracion and aduanas office. It’s the first border crossing that resembles order and logic. It still takes a while, but it’s all good.

And a few more kilometers down the road I come across this truck that’s flipped over and halfway off the road.

A bit further down and it’s the shrine for the local saint, Difunta Correa. Legend has it that she travelled through the country during the civil war in the 1850s and died of thirst. When local villagers discovered her body they were amazed to see her baby son was still alive. He survived by suckling on her breast and living off her milk. This miracle prompted a shrine. People now present her with offerings of water bottles and it’s told that she protects travelers on these barren roads.

As I get closer to Mendoza I pass through the wine region. Lots of grape vines.

I really enjoyed my stay in Mendoza. It’s a beautiful and lively city and everyone is using the word “vos” down here. It’s the informal form of you in Argentina. Other Latin American countries use “tu” instead.

Leaving Mendoza I head south on the (in)famous Ruta 40 for Malargue. As I get closer to Malargue the wind picks up. It’s very windy in the town and the next morning as I’m making my way out of town, down the main road that has 3 poorly visible traffic lights, I get in an accident! I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure I ran a red light. The traffic lights were poorly angled and near impossible to tell the color. Regardless, I should have been paying more attention and driving more defensively.

The accident was like slow motion and fast forward all at once. I entered the intersection and suddenly noticed a car coming from my side. I slammed on the brakes and skidded. The car did the same (unfortunately, had he kept his normal speed there would have been no collision). I crashed my front end into his rear panel. Somehow I high-sided, fell off the bike, and rolled down the street. By the time we collided I wasn’t going very fast and fortunately I wasn’t hurt (neither were the driver or passenger of the car). There was a loud crunching sound as we met and then my bike lay in the middle of the road. The driver came out yelling but quickly calmed down and helped me pick up the bike and move it off the road. I took an inventory of the bike and noticed the mirrors were bent (easy fix) and that the front plastic cowl was broken (bummer, but OK).

The first thought in my mind is that I’m going to prison in Argentina. I then rationalized my thoughts and realized that I didn’t have insurance. OK, so the cops and driver are going to get me for a big bribe. OK, a potential loss of $500 is bad but not the end of the world. I calm down and apologize to the driver. The first thing he says to me is that we don’t need the police. Huh? We’re both pretty sure I broke the law and I’m at fault. There’s a fair size dent in his rear panel and he doesn’t want the cops involved??? He must be hiding something… but I’m not going to argue because this really works out in my favor. He doesn’t even ask for any money. He tells me to drive more carefully and we’re on our way. I’m not going to wait around while he changes his mind so I hit the road. The windscreen is flapping in the wind the whole way. Stupid Stupid Stupid. I got lazy. I’m lucky I didn’t get seriously injured. Time to focus more on the road.

Ruta 40 south from Malague starts with 50k of good pavement, then 50k of ripio, then 50k of more good pavement, then 50k or more ripio before leveling off with good pavement. It’s slow going through the ripio.

I push on for about 9 hours and finally arrive in Zapala for the night. After riding such a long day I get some dinner and pass out. The next day it’s more of the same scenery and little traffic. There’s a lot of land down here and it’s sparsely populated every few hundred kilometers. Looks like I still have a long way to go.

The landscape starts to change around Bariloche and it’s really spectacular country filled with large rock formations and big beautiful blue lakes. It’s a pleasant change from the more barren land up north.

Bariloche is beautiful town beside a serene lake. I popped into a mechanics shop (ya, I do that a lot) and they helped me fix a few things (there’s always something needing fixing). My free brake pads from the shop in Chile turned out to be junk. The backing on them was so thin that it somehow bent and separated from the braking pad. So that’s why my brakes suck… OK, I bought some new pads (front and rear) and they helped fixed my front plastics. Some diamond plate and pop-rivets. Beautiful!

After leaving Bariloche, I ride through a few miles  of bumble bees. THWACK! It’s loud when these guys hit the helmet. And of course one hits my neck and goes down my shirt. I feel it squirming on my skin. I pull over and tear off all my layers to finally get him out.

When I stop for a snack a few hours later I see that right rear blinker has been lowered and is now being melted by the exhaust. There’s always something, isn’t there….

I arrive in Esquel in the late afternoon. It’s time to change my tires (again) to prepare for the off-road riding on the Carretera Austral in Chile. There’s always a tire changing place in Latin America. In Mexico and most of Central America they were called Vulcanizadora (or Vulka). In most of northern Central America they are called Llanterias and in Argentina they are called Gomerias. Whatever their name you can find them by the signature giant tractor/truck tire in front of their building.

The asphalt stops in Trevelin and it’s gravel all the way to the border. It’s another quiet frontera. I’m first in line and pass through with ease. There’s also lots of European trucks on this road. Those you see in the picture below are the smallest. Most are giant lorries.

Up next, back to Chile to ride the Carretera Austral. Stay tuned!

CULTURE SHOCK coming from Bolivia. Life here is orderly and expensive. Gas, food, and lodging are all on par with US prices. I’m missing Bolivia already….

Although my appetite is coming back, I still can’t get a good nights sleep so the next morning I head for sea level. It’s a swift ride down through the desert. Passing through some road construction I see things that I haven’t seen since the US like road cones, traffic signs, and radios to contact the other end of the construction zone. And what’s even crazier… people are actually obeying! After 4 months in Latin America this is certainly an alien sight…

Continuing on I pass the Mano del Desierto (Desert Hand). Sadly, as I’m rolling up I start signing “Get your hands up, up, up! All my single ladies!” There’s a Chilean family on holiday and so we take the usual 987239847  photos together. First just the daughter me and the bike, then with the mother, then without the daughter, then sitting on the bike, then the with the daughter while the mother sits on the bike, then the daughter sitting while the mother standing, and so on… It’s fun.

About 30 miles earlier I passed through the city of Antofagasta and I wasn’t really keen on stopping there. It’s noon and I’m just at the beginning of a long stretch of desert with no towns in between. I decide to push it for a long days ride the beach town of Caldera. All in all it’s some 450 miles on the day. Time for some real sleep – my first night back at sea level. 11 hours of sleep never felt so good! And finally, my throbbing headache is GONE!

But with all the excitement and joy I managed to break my sandal. I’ve had these sandals for over 12 years. I really thought they’d hold up better than this… They sure don’t make ‘em like they used to (over 13 years ago). So I walked with one sandal in hand  into the bank and back around town to the hotel. Why is everyone staring at me! Oh ya, I also have this ridiculously overgrown beard…

Continuing south the scenery remains… desert. There’s some big equipment out there.

Desert Panorama.

Late in the day today I looked down to notice that my right boot and pant leg were wet. Upon inspection I found that my fork seal had blown out and leaked fork oil all over the right side of the bike and the right side of me. Great…

A few more desert days on the way south (ya, there’s LOTS of desert here). I’m driving up a hill and pass a slow moving truck in a no passing zone. When I make it around the corner there’s a police man waiving me over. Here we go… It was a set up. Trucks crawl up this hill and I imagine that they’re always passed by traffic. The police sit at the top of the hill around the bend, with a clear view of the entire scene. This time I definitively broke the law and I tried a new approach. I pulled off the road and dropped the bike (on accident).  I pulled off my helmet and moaned that I was tired. I half struggled to pick up the bike and finally got around to making introductions with the police. They proceeded to explain what I did wrong. One man said I was getting a ticket. Then the other man pulled him aside and after some talking (they must have felt bad for me for dropping the bike) they let me go without a ticket!

As I pulled away I heard some loud clunking. Crap, I thought, my transmission is screwed. I take a better look at the bike and notice that it’s not the transmission. The chain is loose, ridiculously loose. So loose that I’m convinced something must have broke (axle, subframe, front sprocket, something). Nope, it’s just crazy loose. I also look at my rear sprocket in detail for the first time. They are both shot, dead. It’s only 30 miles to La Serena so I tighten up my chain and roll on. It’s clicking like crazy and I saw to myself over and over, “just keep going, just keep going” and I eventually make it to La Serena.

The next day in La Serena I stop into Tonino Motorsports and those guys really hooked me up. Without an appointment, I stroll in mid morning and they get working straight away. A new fork seal, new fork oil, new engine oil, air filter cleaning, new chain and sprocket and fixing the heated grips. They even set me up with a FREE set of brake pads as well as a FREE (Chinese) front tire! All finished by the end of the day at a fair price (although parts in Chile are almost double the U.S. price!). Let’s hope this is the last mechanical servicing of the trip.

Old sprocket – very worn!

Tonino Motorsports Crew

South south south and I reach Concon where I stay at a small B&B. The owner is taking care of 3 children displaced from the earthquake. He invites me to dinner and I chat with the kids all evening. It wasn’t until 30 minutes into our conversation that I had to ask them to talk slower so I could understand. Up until then they thought I was Chilean and they are shocked to learn that I’m from the States. It was a fun evening learning about these kids and about the earthquake. I continuously surprise myself with how good my Spanish skills are! Granted, I’m still terrible but I was able to have a conversation for hours. Awesome.

In the morning I head to the Argentina border. On the way I pass lots of women on the side of the road selling food. I’m hungry and curious to see what they have to offer. Dulces (Sweets)! The woman gives me one as a gift and I buy a second. Delicious…

I climb the stupendous mountainside up to the border. The official asks me if I felt the 7.2 magnitude earthquake that happened just 20 minutes ago. WHAT!?!? I felt nothing and good thing as I was riding up a precariously steep slope with prime rock fall… How do you like these curves?

I’m off to my last new country… #15 – Argentina! Stay tuned.

New Country!!! I’m very excited to enter Bolivia. It’s been high on my list since I started thinking about this trip. Unfortunately, the day I crossed the border it was freezing rain. Most of Bolivia that I’ll be traveling through will be in the altiplano (high plains) around 3500 – 5000 meters (11,375 – 16,250 feet) and it’s cold up here! The border crossing via Yunguyo, Peru was simple. Although the cold rain wasn’t too enjoyable.

The only hitch upon entering Bolivia for US citizens is the $135 USD visa fee. Their government does this because the USA charges Bolivians a similar rate to apply for a US visa. Imagine the situation for most Bolivians though. They pay their $135 USD visa fee, wait a month for an interview that’s in a far away city, get declined without good reason (usually because they don’t have the finances and can’t prove they aren’t just going to find work), and there is no refund on their visa fee. I guess it isn’t so bad to pay my $135 at the border and pass without questions asked.

The map shows a road that crosses over the isthmus of Lake Titicaca. I assume there’s a bridge. Nope, instead there’s a “ferry” service. Here I am with my sweet Colombian rain jacket riding across the choppy lake in the pouring rain.

I usually stop for gas well before I need it because gas stations aren’t always easy to find in remote areas. I was too lazy to stop before leaving Peru (it was raining, I was cold, I just wanted to push through to some drier weather). It wasn’t until the 6th gas station from the border that I was able to find one that actually had gasoline. I asked the guy why they were all out of gas. He said something but I didn’t understand. I had been running on reserve for 15 miles and was getting nervous that I’d run out of gas, in the high plains, in the rain, and have to start waving down every combi that drove by to try and buy some gas. I spent the night in La Paz. It rained all night as well as the next morning. Who goes to Bolivia during the rainy season anyways!?!? I really wanted to ride the Yungas “The most dangerous road in the world” with a dirt road less than 3 meters wide and at times has a vertical cliff drop of over 200 meters. Each year there are over 100 fatalities on the road. I was really excited to ride this road but I decided it would be best to skip the road in the extremely muddy conditions.

I left La Paz in the rain and took the straight shot down to Oruro. My rear tire is getting bald from all the high speed flat roads and the pavement will soon end in Bolivia. I stopped by a llanteria (tire changer). He charged me $7 Bolivianos ($0.88 USD). That’s not a typo, it was less than 1 dollar and changed the tire right there on the sidewalk.

Oh yeah! Dirt ready!

Bolivia is cheap. A tire change for less than a dollar. A hamburger for 38 cents. A freshly squeezed glass of orange juice for a quarter. Gas for 2 dollars/gallon. A nice hotel room for 7 bucks.  I could get used to this…

The next day was further south to Potosi. It was all paved and just as the rain started I went around a corner, caught an oil slick, lost control, and went off the road. Luckily I stayed upright and the run off was clear. Just as this happened, another motorcyclist was coming the other way. I didn’t catch his name, but he shipped his Honda Goldwing from Europe to Argentina and is riding north to Alaska.

I continued through the altiplano. Everyone who comes to Bolivia is looking for a photo of the llamas. I think I got the bread winner here…

Leaving Potosi was a challenge. The city was under gridlock. All roads entering/leaving the city were blocked by busses and trucks. I asked what was going on but all I could understand was that they were protesting the government. Fortunately, they were all friendly and though they wouldn’t move their vehicles for me, I was able to squeeze through by riding on the sidewalks, in deep mud on the side of the road, and weaving in and out of the blockades where a car would not be able to fit. On the more complicated blockades with dozens of vehicles I felt as though I was doing a “get the mouse to the cheese” maze. I’d get off the bike, follow a path until it deadened, then back track to a fork, follow that path until it deadened, and so on until I found the only path that would get me across the blockade.

All the donkeys up here have the gnarliest coats I’ve ever seen.

Sometimes it’s easiest to build the road under the water than to build a bridge over the water. Wherever there is water crossing the road you’ll be sure to find cars/trucks parked and getting a thorough washing. As I crossed this section, it was a little deep in the middle and I splashed the truck diver pretty good. He wasn’t too happy. Oooppps.

Another muddy water crossing.

Desert Cactus.

Keep on keepin on.

The riding was fun. There were a few instances when I tried crossing the “centerline” and got caught in some deep gravel. I thought I was going down but somehow I stayed upright. Here’s some details on the road from Potosi to Uyuni for those other ADVriders out there:

• 130 miles (first 20 is paved).
• Mix of gravel/sand/dirt but not terribly technical.
• Time = 5 hours (bus time is 6).

In Uyuni, I took my first day off from riding since Quito, Ecuador (over 2 weeks ago). The famous Salaar (Salt Flats) are underwater this time of year and I didn’t want to subject my bike to that sort of torture so I joined a group tour. First we checked out the Train Cemetery.

C’est la vie!

Next it was off to the salt flats. A ride on the roof of the Landcruiser gave great views… of other people on top of their Landcruisers.

These pictures don’t do the area justice but it was beautiful. The thin layer of water gives a near mirror image in calm sections. The horizon fades away as land becomes sky. From a distance it looks like people are walking on water. In the winter (ya, it’s summer down here in the southern hemisphere) the Salaar is completely dry, flat, and white and it’s possible to take some crazy photos on size perspective (see here). But with imperfections on the surface it’s not quite as magical. Nevertheless we tried a few.

Don’t eat me!

Hold me clos tiny dancer.

Heaps of dragons out here…

Tread lightly.

Cooking tiny people in the Jetboil.

And lastly the famous salt mounds.

Sadly I must admit that my time in Bolivia wasn’t thoroughly enjoyed. Ever since arriving in Lake Titicaca I’d been feeling the effects of altitude sickness. The loss of breath wasn’t a big deal but the constant migraine headache, nausea, insomnia, and lack of appetite all lead to a lack of energy. I tried to tough it out the first few days. When that wasn’t working I switched to the local remedy, matte de coca (tea made with coca leaves. These same leaves are used to make cocaine but are not toxic without processing). Eventually I gave way to prescription altitude sickness pills and ibuprofen. Unfortunately, nothing worked. Each day I was running on less and less food, sleep, and energy all while my head was throbbing non-stop. Each day after riding I laid in bed until forcing myself to eat dinner and then laid in bed again. Desperately, I went to the pharmacy in Uyuni and asked for help. The “pharmacist” was missing every other tooth and wearing a Hello Kitty sweatshirt. She tried to sell me altitude sickness pills (the same I already had from the States)… I asked if she had oxygen. Nope. I asked if there was a doctor in town. Nope.

I decided to make a run for Chile the next day to get to lower altitude with desperate hopes of improving my health. Unfortunately, it was one of those “it’s only going to get worse before it gets better” type deals  as the road was long and arduous as it first climbed to over 4100 meters before it descended. I wished I could have jumped into an ambulance or crawled to a hospital or even just walked down a mountain slope to get some help. But those options weren’t available in this rugged altiplano. Instead, the shortest way to safety was an 11 hour ride covering some 280 miles through wet mud, dry mud, washboard/ripio, shallow sand, pot holes, deep sand, large gravel, and small gravel. Each requires a different technique to drive through and would constantly change just when I got comfortable. By some will of God I never fell and made it to my destination just as the sunset.I arrived dehydrated, undernourished, and physically and mentally exhausted. But I arrived! Here at the ever low altitude of 2600 meters (8,500 feet) I’m starting to feel better.

Here’s a few photos from the day’s journey. I filled up two 2L water bottles with extra gas (surprisingly I didn’t need to use them). Notice the difference in color – purchased from different gas stations. In many countries you have a choice between 2 to 4 different octane levels of gas. In Bolivia you have just one, gas. And it’s crap. After the gas settled in these bottles, I shook it up and saw large particles swimming around – bad for the bike…

My auxiliary fuel tank storage.

This polish couple purchased a KLR 5 months ago in Colombia and are working their way south to Tierra Del Fuego. – 2up! They told me they also have another bag and spare tires that they sent ahead with a jeep. And I thought I was loaded down…  Ride on!

Stopped for a water break by some village in the middle of nowhere.

Rock climbers unite! On the way to Ollague (the border with Chile) there is a 5 mile stretch with millions of giant boulder formations. They go on for a miles on either side of the road as well. Imagine it like a Castle Hill, New Zealand but at 4000 meters (13,000 feet) and having the nearest town over 5 hours away. Come claim some first ascents in southwestern Bolivia.

CHILE!!! There ain’t not no one at this border crossing. The customs lady was a bitch but the guy who was in charge of checking my luggage for contraband was friendly and wanted to practice English. There’s not much going on up here… Chile is the first country to search my luggage. Not unlike US customs, they were looking for food and drugs. I decided to show him my small food stash and he said it was all OK. It was a quick and easy check and I was on my way.

Forcing myself to eat a late afternoon snack in the middle of the Atacama desert. Need that energy.

Bolivia has a beautiful isolated southwest that I wanted to explore but I decided against do to my health. I feel ashamed that I couldn’t experience more of Bolivia. The journey must go on…

Headed back to sea level from Huaraz to Lima – there are some beautiful twisty roads.

In Lima, I checked in with Riccardo at Moto Imports Peru. I met Riccardo  a few days ago in Huanchaco and he offered me to stop by his shop. His mechanics gave the bike the best cleaning I think it’s ever seen (and it was much needed after all those dirt/mud roads) and I also cleaned the air filter (lots of desert = lots of sand = clogged air filter). Thanks Riccardo and crew!

Leaving Lima it’s more desert. Another 400 kilometers or so to Nazca (but it’s fast). On the way down another motorcyclist came up next to me waving me over. I pulled over and we chatted for a bit. He’s Peruvian and suggested I stop into the town of Huacachina which is literally an oasis – a lake in the middle of the desert sand dunes.

Just before the town I stopped at the Mirador for a view of some of the famous Nazca Lines – a UNESCO World Heritage Site. 2 soles ($0.75 USD) gets my ticket and I’m ready to climb up.

The view is a little underwhelming but still a cool experience and much cheaper than renting a plane to fly overhead. The 800+ geoglyphs were created between 900 BC and AD 600. No one knows for sure why they were made. You can’t appreciate them fully until you’re in the sky and there weren’t that many planes back then…. Perhaps they were made as a show for the gods.

From the mirador there’s a sketchy view of a few figures.

I also liked the funnel cloud coming our way.

Now I’ve got good news and bad news for the rest of the days ride. The good news is that I narrowly missed running over a dog (you’re welcome, Jessi). The bad news is that I ran over a cat… No pictures… Oh, and the next day I almost hit a woman who ran into the road from behind a parked bus (that could have been bad). Also, what’s the deal with birds… They have the whole sky to fly in and yet they always from within 5 feet from the ground when crossing the road. Yup, I hit another one. It smacked me right in the knee and packed a punch when riding at 60 mph.

Once in the hotel I ran into another motorcyclist. Fernando is riding a 250 CC bike doing a loop from Santiago, Chile. He’s doing the whole ride in sandals!

The next day was a long one. I woke up at 5 am and hit the road by 6 in order to attempt the route to Cusco, 660 km (420 miles) away. Unlike the the fast straight coast, this was up in the windy mountains. It was beautiful to see the sunrise coming over the mountains. So I hit the road and quickly climbed up over 4000 meters to the altiplano. It’s cold up here! I stopped to put on my winter clothes just as a bunch of llamas were roaming around. These guys are quirky and all over the high plains.

The landscape is spectacular buy unforgiving up here. The people who live on the altiplano are as rugged as they come. Eventually I dropped into a valley and the temps warmed up. In the small towns of Peru you’ll find lots of rickshaws.

But the valley didn’t last forever and soon enough I was climbing again. I tried to put to use all the knowledge that Charles shared with me about better cornering. Every minute will count on today’s ride.

This land is so beautiful!

Late in the afternoon I was tired but making good progress towards Cusco. Then I ran into road construction… They had closed down the road, allowing traffic to pass only every 2 hours and I had just missed the cut off. If I waited I ‘d surely be riding at night. I negotiated with the traffic guard for a while and eventually convinced him to let me through. I told him that I’ve been through many construction zones and I always pass safely because my motorcycle is small and I can go around easily. He let me pass and about a mile down the road I see what all the commotion is about. The river had flooded from heavy rains and knocked out a the road completely. The bulldozer is tearing away the mountainside to make a new path. I wait a while and then ask him to clear out so I can continue. It’s a rough stretch and I nearly dumped it many times. Thankfully I made it through and continued on. There were a few more of these sections further down the road.

Finally made it to Cusco as the sunset. Found a hotel, grabbed some dinner and a beer at the famous Norton Rats Tavern (another motorcycle joint) and passed out!

The next morning I’m refreshed and ready to see the town. For starters, how do you like the decorations in my hotel room? I sort of like the contrast. Dragon Ball Z and some man in a dress with a gun…

Cusco is a beautiful colonial town with a rich Inca history. Here’s a few sights from around town.

Man washing clothes in the main plaza’s fountain.

Now time to see some Inca sites. A big let down is that Machu Picchu is closed. The heavy rains a few weeks back knocked out the railroad and the famous Inca Trail. Tourists were stranded at the site for days. I asked around to everyone in every circle to try and find some backdoor into the site; I had no luck. I’m really bummed that I came all this way and can’t see Machu Picchu. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to come back again

Instead, I did a whirlwind trip to see many of the Inca sites in the Sacred Valley. Starting with Sacsayhuaman just north of Cusco. The heaviest of blocks weigh over 70 tons! The style is very different from the Mayan ruins I saw in Mexico and Central America.

Much of this site is gone. The Spanish stole the blocks and used them to build their churches and homes. They also built a giant Jebus near the site just to show everyone who’s the boss (kinda looks like Tony Danza).

The view over Cusco is beautiful from up here.

A short ride up the road and it’s Q’uenqo. A small site with some cool tunnels.

A quick stop into Puka Pukara.

And I’m off toward Pisaq. But the bridge is out! Looks like there’s barely enough room to squeak by. Gotta love motorcycle travel.

The Pisaq ruins.

Ollantaytambo.

Traffic jam on the way to Moray. A 6 year old boy was tending to this herd of sheep. Note the houses made from bricks of mud.

Moray ruins. The concentric amphitheatre farming terraces are thought to have been an agricultural laboratory.

Most tourists do this loop over a 10 day period hitting up even more sights. I’m on the move so it was a quick overview. I could have enjoyed a guide at each site and hours of exploring.

Time to keep on moving on. Headed to Puno on the shores of Lake Titicaca. Not only is the lake’s name fun to say it’s also one of the worlds highest navigable lakes at 3820 meters (12,400 feet).

Of course what trip to Peru would be complete without a Pisco Sour and an Inca Kola.

And one final question before I leave Peru… Why do all the bathrooms have toilet paper holders if none of them have toilet paper??? Never mind the lack of seat, I’ve gotten used to that…

Off to Bolivia. Stay tuned!

Entering a new country is always exciting and Peru is no different. The mountains quickly give way to flat roads descending down towards sea level. 2 hours after leaving the border I arrive in Piura. It’s 2:30 pm and I decide to push it to Chiclayo which is about another 2 hours away.

I continuously ask people on the street how far it is to the next big town. It’s fun and I always get different answers. Many times they have no idea what the road is like but rather than feeling dumb for not knowing, they make up an answer. I’m long gone by the time I find out they had no idea what they were talking about.

I always arrive sooner than their predictions. The locals aren’t accustomed to the massive power and speed of the KLR. Back in the States I’d be more interested to know the distance than the time. But down here no one knows distances. And times are more practical especially when talking about rough twisty mountain roads. I find that I usually do it in 2/3 the time that cars/buses do.

The landscape south from Piura changes swiftly. All of a sudden I’m in a desert with steady cross winds. It’s exhausting and I’m getting dehydrated. I get into Chiclayo, find a nice hotel, and get some a fine Peruvian dinner – Chinese food Here’s the view of the city from the hotel roof.

The next day I’m still feeling a bit off so I sleep in and eventually leave for Trujillo. Again, another 2 hours of desert. Straight, flat, and windy.

Many riders say this is the most boring stretch of road on the way south. Ya, it’s not what I expected in Peru but I enjoy being in the middle of a vast desert. With the flat, straight roads, I can drive fast and let my mind rest a bit from the stressful focus of mountain riding. It give me a chance to listen to some podcasts and music as well as simply, think. I play around with a few business ideas and have to stop and right them down before I forget them.

I get my oil changed in Trujillo but it’s an industrial city so I decide to drive 15 minutes out to the beach, Huanchaco. It’s a beautiful oasis in the middle of the desert. The rooms are cheap, the waves are big and the water temperature is refreshing. Perfect time for a swim (and some hardcore bodysurfing)!

Famous cigar shaped boats.

Kids fishing off the dock.

Sunset.

When the sun rises the next morning, I’m packing up. I’ve got a long ride ahead of me to the mountain town of Huaraz. 2 more hours of desert riding to the town of Santa then I turn off the panamaricana for a calm back road into the canyon.

A nice change of scenery as I pass through rice paddies and other agriculture. The man at the gas station in Santa told me it was asphalt all the way to Huallanca. Clearly, he had never been there because after 20 minutes the pavement ended and the rough dirt began.

I let some air out of my tires for better traction and enjoy the ride. The road hugs the river and there are many tunnels (I think 50 in all by the time I get to Huraz).

Some tunnels are short but others are long and dark. My lights are terrible and I can’t see anything – just stay upright!

The signs tell you to honk your horn before going through. Some tunnels were hundreds of meters in the dark. Only once did I find a bus in the middle. I hugged the side and it barely squeezed by me. I’m alive!

Let’s not forget about the gorgeous waterfall and the many overhanging cliffs. There are lots of boulders in the road to remind you that the mountain does come crashing down from time to time.

There were a few river crossings. These were easy. The mud pools of unknown depth were more challenging. One was higher than my footpegs. I gunned it and mud went flying up over my helmet!

Then there’s this tower with a tyrolean to the other side of the valley. With a 100 meter drop I decided not to test my slacklining skills. but it did give a good perspective for a photo.

In the end, the arid desert valley…

…eventually gives way to a beautiful lush mountain valley complete with 6000 meter glacier covered summits.

In one day I rode from sea level to over 3,000 meters! I don’t have one of those new fangled helmet talking picture cameras. But I was able to capture some video by hanging my camera from my neck while riding. I hope you can enjoy the video (if you don’t throw up from all the swaying).

For those Adventure Riders out there looking for route details. Head south towards Chimbote. The town of Santa is just before Chimbote. Turn left at the sign for Huallanca (get gas before continuing). The road meanders through town so just ask locals for the way. Eventually the roads straightens out. There’s about 20 miles of tarmac and then the dirt starts. There are a few forks in the road – always take the path closest to the river.

Huanchaco/Trujillo – Santa/Chimbote: 2 hours

Santa – Huallanca: 3 hours

Huallanca – Caras: 1 hour

Caras – Huaraz: 1 hour

Total: 7 hours. This included lots of stops for pictures, lunch, and deflating/inflating tires. I think the bus time is 10-12 hours.

The next day in Huaraz I hired a climbing guide, Edwin. I haven’t climbed since Mexico and I was excited to get pumped. He took me to a sad looking wall called Chancos (I think). I was bummed at first and was hoping for something more scenic and interesting. The first two routes were basic but things turned around for the last three. They were challenging and thought provoking. We had some great climbs and joke about both of us being gordos (fatties). It’s a good thing the routes were short because I had no strength left to continue. Edwin works hard 6 months out of the year as an alpine guide but during the rainy season he’s not guiding much. Here’s a shot of Edwin rapping off a route.

Sunset in Huaraz from the roof of the hotel. Look closely to see the glacier summit of a 6000+ meter mountain peeking through the clouds.

Back to sea level tomorrow… Stay tuned!

The next morning I split from Marty and Charles. We had different timelines and aspirations for the journey so I decided to part ways and keep on solo (you never know, we might meet up again down the road). Charles is riding with Marty for a bit. You can check out Marty’s blog at: http://martysouthamerica.wordpress.com/ Diego sent me a knobby tire from Quito and flew it into Loja so that’s where I headed. I got the tire and now have a some fresh rubber for when I hit Bolivia.

Bright and early I left for the border from Loja. I chose the Macara border in the mountains. It was far more scenic than the coastal panamariana crossing (which I’ve heard terrible rumors that it’s the worst crossing in South America). The ride was beautiful through the mountains. I’ve noticed that I always say that these roads are beautiful. Well… it’s true! I’m so fortunate to explore this beautiful land.

The border was ridiculously easy and after the usual chit chat I’m off to Peru…

A third of the way through the loop is the Quilotoa Crater Laguna.

The road turns to gravel just after the lake. It’s slow going with tight switch backs and lots of washboard.

We’re riding swiftly when around the corner comes an old Land Rover. I’m able to swerve to the inside and rest on the bank. Charles, behind me, has the option of swerving off the cliff side to the right (not a good option) or low-siding the bike and crashing into the truck (not a good option either, but better than going off the cliff). He does so and his front end slides under the Land Rover. There’s some silence then we pick up the bike. His rack is severely broken now but he’s able to continue on. Unfortunately, there’s no photo of the accident. Moral of the story: ride faster and take more chances.

The dirt continues as we make distance. About an hour later Charles swerves off the road. He has a flat front tire… The daylight is getting short and we still have far to ride so there’s no time to wallow. We work together and get the tire changed and we’re riding again in about 45 minutes.

We’re now racing against the clock to make it back to the autopista. The road conditions are sketchy and it’s not the kind of place to be riding at night. Dodging potholes and large rocks, we find the autopista well after dark. There are no hotels in this small town so we continue down the dark autopista for an hour tailgating trucks so we can see the road. Finally in Ambato safe but tired and hungry at 8pm we grab some pizza by the square. Serendipitously we spot Marty. He has a tiny little one bed hotel room (the only thing left in the city because it’s carnival). We persuade the hotel manager to let us sleep on the floor in his tiny room. Ambato’s not a tourist town but they have one great party for Carnival! We hit the streets and it’s not long before we’re covered in foam.

But don’t you worry. Cans of spray foam are $2. We load up and fight for our lives! Here’s Marty and I back to back protecting one another. We were great big gringo targets and everyone loved to shoot us (especially the little kids). The foam started to burn our eyes and skin. What a fun night!

With a few street shish kabobs in our stomach we call it a night. In the morning this old woman starts speaking to us in tongue. Who knows what she said but she was a hoot. I think she could fit in Charles’ pannier and come along. We know she’s a fan of Canada.

Hauling in the daily catch.

Today we ride up to Volcan Chimborazo. With a 6,300 meter summit it’s the tallest point from the center of the earth. As we ride through the pueblos we’re continuously accosted by water balloons and buckets of water. What better target than a motorcyclist? The kids run to grab their water pals as they see us coming down the road. Often they miss us because they misjudge the speed and timing. But let me tell you, a water balloon or pail of water when riding at 60 mph is like getting hit with a brick. Not only that, now we’re soaking wet and riding in the cold. What a wonderful adventure!

The road climbs into the clouds and we stop to put on our cold weather gear.

Continuing up the road becomes dirt. The washboard roads are fun to ride. (Thanks for the photo, Marty!)

The road ends at the refugee. It’s 4,800 meters (15,600 feet) up here and it’s the highest altitude I’ve ever been. It’s a chore just to walk a hundred meters up the slope to view the monuments.

Remembering those who gave their life to the mountain (there are many of these).

No Starbucks?

And as it is everywhere we go, we become the tourist attraction. Posing for pictures with families is a daily activity.

Upon leaving Chimborazo we pass through the same pueblos we did on the way up. The grenadiers are ready and we do our best to dodge the water grenades. We don’t always succeed…

We spend the night in Riobamba and there’s a lively water fight going on all over the streets. Marty jumps in his rain suit and hits the streets with a pail of water.

More to come after the break. Stay tuned!

Back in the days of Central America I was doing a border crossing every few days. Having spent 3 weeks in Colombia, I was excited for a new country. Marty and I crossed the border with ease. I did have to change over some currency. I usually try to deplete my local currency before reaching the border but it didn’t work out this time so I had to change the equivalent of $35 USD. I negotiated with the money changer for a good rate and then when he punched it into his calculator I could see that the math wasn’t right. His calculator was rigged and he tried to scam me out of $7 USD. I found another money changer instead who didn’t scam me. All is good.

As we continue on we ride through gorgeous mountains laced with farm land that runs up each steep slope. It doesn’t take very long to arrive at La Mitad del Mundo (the Middle of the World) a.k.a. the equator. I’m finally in the southern hemisphere! We spent a few minutes taking some goofy equator pictures.

My GPS power cable broke in Mexico and I haven’t used the GPS since. I’ve really enjoyed riding with the GPS. I spend less time looking at my mileage, average speed, riding time, and location. I spend more time looking at the world around me and asking people for directions. Although, I had to pop in some batteries for a GPS on the equator picture. Close enough I’d say.

Onward towards Quito. Marty and I drop our bikes of with Diego, a mechanic I met through ADVrider. Diego’s offered to help us fix a few things on the bike and install my heated grips (Remembering those first few days in the cold rain and snow in the northeast USA, I’m so excited for some warm hands).

With the bikes safely stored in Diego’s garage, we catch a cab over to my friend Jess’ apartment. Jess lives in Quito and her Spanish is scary good. It’s great to see a familiar face and have a local guide for the city. For dinner she takes us to this street corner downtown that serves delicious street food every night. We stuff ourselves silly for $3 (ya, they use the US dollar down here for currency).

Her boyfriend Marcos meets up with us and takes us for a stroll through the old city. We take in the sights form the back of his pickup truck. The next morning we head to the mountains to take the cable car up to 4100 meters (~13,000 ft.) for a beautiful view over the city. It’s tough walking up at this altitude!

Probably the most beautiful panorama I’ve ever seen. Thanks, Marty.

Marty is 6’4” tall. He stands out down here… Marcos calls him the Gringoso or Gringo Monstroso. As the legend goes, the Gringo Monster eats Ecuadorian children. Here’s Marty scoping out his prey.

Back at Jess’ place it’s time for some laundry in the washing stone on the roof of her building.

Marty’s bike is ready and he takes Jess for her first ever motorcycle ride. 

Charles eventually shows up that night. He tells us that his rear shock blew out riding the dirt roads from San Augustin. He’s basically riding an old Cadillac that bounces and bounces and has no dampening. He’s tired and we’re all ready for a beer. Here we are sitting on the street corner outside Jess’ place.

Marty departs early the next morning and Charles and I run some errands. Early afternoon I meet up with Diego and my bike is ready to go. Thanks for all the help, Diego!

With a fresh bike I took Marco for a ride around the neighborhood. Marcos, it’s time to buy a bike and ride north to the States!

Marcos then invited Charles and I too his family’s party. It’s the start of Carnival this weekend. Carnival is defined by music, drinking, pouring water on people, and spraying others with foam. It’s pretty amazing and we had a great time at the party.

Chowing down on Cuy (guinea pig) after getting splashed in the face with cornstarch.

Harassing the caged cuy. “I’m going to eat you!”

Gringo Monsters love to eat Ecuadorian children.

Hungover and sucking in diesel fumes made the next morning a challenge. Charles and I said goodbye to Jess and rode up to another Mitad del Mundo monument. Thank you Jess and Marcos for hosting us and showing us a wicked good time!

North vs. South.

More southern hemisphere adventures ahead. Stay tuned!

Leaving Popayan Charles and I ride out on a dirt road towards San Augustin. It was raining and cold but fun.

Charles continues and I decide to turn back and head south more directly. I want to make it to Quito, Ecuador before the weekend in order to get some bike maintenance done. On the way back I’m stopped at a military checkpoint. The kids soldiers just wanted to chat about the trip. Automatic rifles – for my protection!

The road towards the border is spectacular. The mountains are beautiful and the roads are windy and well kept. A quick stop for lunch on the roadside and I’m back on the bike.

By mid afternoon I arrive at my destination, Santuario de Las Lajas, only about 5 minutes from the Ecuadorian border. This spectacular church spans a deep canyon.

Prayer tablets.

Walking down to the Church I ran into Marty who I met in Cali. He’s easy to spot with his giant New Freedomstan sticker on the front and flag on the back.

The church at night.

Chilling with the llamas.

Every country I enter I have to learn a new language. True, they all speak Spanish but the Spanish is very different from country to country. For example, in Colombia people say “A la orden” (At your service)  at the beginning and end of all business transactions instead of saying “buenos dias” (good morning) or “con gusto” (with pleasure). In Spanish a double-l “ll” is pronounced as a “y” sound. However, in Colombia the double-l is pronounced as a “j” instead. Another new word is “clarro” (sure) which is used to show someone that you understand or agree with what they are saying.

A few more things I haven’t yet mentioned about Colombia. There are lots of toll roads but there is a special lane at the far right where motorcycles can pass for free. This is far more convenient than running all the other tolls through Central America. Colombia’s past has also seen lots of motorcycle violence such as robberies and drive by shootings. Because of this all motorcyclists are required to wear a vest with their license plate number on it. The number must also be on the back of the helmet. And in the city it’s illegal for 2 men to ride on one motorcycle because of the fear of drive by shootings. However, one man and one women is acceptable as well is 2 women.

All in all I spent about 3 weeks in Colombia. Before the trip I was warned that Colombia would be very dangerous. Never did I fear for my safety and all the people I met were extremely friendly. Colombia has some of the most spectacular landscape I’ve seen yet and the country has so much to offer. I’ve really enjoyed traveling through Colombia and I hope to make it back someday to explore even more.

For now though, it’s on to Ecuador! Stay tuned…

The road into Medellin had beautiful pavement with fun winding switchbacks. Once considered one of the most dangerous cities in the world, Medellin is now spectacular. The orange/brown color of the building roofs and the clean streets were quite a sight. Casa Kiwi hostel is our home in the city and was founded by a New Zealand guy who road south from Alaska and fell in love with Colombia. They have a garage for the motorcycles and even a discount too!

Here at Casa Kiwi we met another biker Carl from Denmark who started his journey in Buenos Aires then down to Ushuaia and is making his way up to the USA. We exchanged some tips on roads/borders/sights as well as stories. The three of us also rode the bikes about an hour outside the city to check out the 200 meter tall monolith of El Penol. The road took us out to the middle of nowhere until we saw this giant right in front of us.

After slugging up the 600+ stairs we arrived a the summit with a spectacular view of the countryside! (Click on the picture for a larger version).

Beautiful calm finger lakes and deserted forested islands went on for as far as the eye could see. There were three 20 year old Colombia girls at the top. The started talking to us and turns out that they hitchhiked here from their home. They asked where we were going and if they could ride with us back to the main road where we would then part ways. We agreed but it was lunch time so we decided to get some food in the nearest town first. Even though they giggled constantly it was still a fun conversation to speak only in Spanish with some locals. When the check came (or rather we asked for it – because the restaurants will let you sit for hours without bringing the check) us three guys paid our portion and the girls just sat there… 10 minutes goes by and nothing… Carl and I nominate Charles to ask the awkward question. They don’t have any money… Ya, we could pay for them but just the fact that they assumed we would pay and that we’re already doing them a big favor by giving them a list we think it’s only fair if they each pay the $3 for their meals.

Charles continues the awkward conversation and asks how they stop giggling. Again, we could pay but it’s the principal and now it’s actually kind of fun watching the situation unfold. So after about 45 minutes of calling on the phone, discussing options, yada yada yada, they tell us they can get money from a bank in the next town. OK, we load up and ride there. Another 20 minutes passes and it’s quite confusing as to what the problem is with getting money. Eventually they do and decide they don’t want a ride any more. No problem! We’re anxious to fly down the twisty roads and get back to Medellin! What a fun awkward experience though. You can’t buy that from a travel guide!

Back in Medellin I read an article in the local paper about two Americans who live in Medellin and working on a photography project called Lighten Up And Shoot. I see that our photography styles are very similar and I drop them an email. They swing by later and we chat the night away over a few beers. Good times and good company.

The next morning we leave Medellin. Ya, so soon. We barely saw any of the city but we had a great time. I could certainly come back here for a week, month, or year… But we need to continue south so we’re up at the crack of down and leaving for Cali.

Cali is significantly lower than Bogota and Medellin. We’re sweating as we roll up to the Casa Blanca Hotel. The owner, Mike, is a motorcycle legend. He road his bike from the USA to Argentina and then back up when he fell in love with a Colombiana, married, had a child, and opened up a hostel and motorcycle/ATV tour company Motolombia. Mike is super friendly and spends all day helping us find tires, getting work done at the mechanic, and sharing travel stories. He’s had more than 200 motorcyclists come by since he opened up the hostel in late 2008. If you’re riding through Colombia, you must stop here!

Thanks to Santiago for all the mechanical help, last minute, on a Saturday, at a very fair price!

Also at his shop was a $20,000 BMW 1200 GS. I tried to get him to trade straight up. No luck, so I had to steal it!

We’ve decided to get a set of knobby tires for later down the road (or lack there of) in Bolivia. We hear the roads are treacherous and don’t want to ride there on street tires. Mike brought us to a few shops but we didn’t find quite what we were looking for. Then the manager at one shop gave Charles a front and rear tire that he had used previously for a rally race. He gave me a front (because he didn’t have my size rear). The tires still have good tread left on them and they are hard to beat for the price – FREE! I still need to pick up a rear tire – I’ll try in Ecuador. We’ll hold onto these tires and put them on somewhere in Peru.

Visitors don’t come to Cali to see churches… They come here for the salsatecas! Cali is the salsa capital of Colombia and when in Rome… At the hostel we met up with Marty (from that country north of the USA – New Freedomstan?) who just bought a KLR with the help from Mike. He’s going to be riding through South America. We also met Simon at the hostel and the 4 of us went out for a night on the town to experience Cali’s salsa culture. The night before, Marty had met a Colombiana , Paola, and we met up her and her friend Diana. Another great conversation that took place only in Spanish. My Spanish is still poor but I really enjoying talking. These girls were super cool and man could they dance… I’m pretty much rhythmically challenged. I asked Diana when she started dancing salsa. She said she started when she was in her Momma’s belly. I believe it. The girls taught us some salsa moves (which we performed terribly but with great enjoyment). We had a blast and danced until 5 in the morning.

While walking past a clothing store downtown, Marty saw a manikin that looked like me. We all laughed. Here’s this manikin with a bald head and a big beard. We ask a cleaning guy outside if we can go in and take a picture with it. Immediately he understands why and starts cracking up. The same with the lady inside the store. Well here I am with my buddy. It just goes to show you how truly good looking I am and how the Colombians define fashion and beauty. I am a sponsored athlete-model after all…

Plenty more to come. Stay tuned!