El Viaje

2006-05-03T12:51:00.001-07:00

Round Two -----FIGHT

I awoke early again to get a good start on the customs process. After a quick trip to the bathroom I realized it was entirely too early too start the day and went back to bed. I headed out again at 10am with a little more sleep under my belt to start the customs battle. After a quick stop at the customs office for some paperwork I was over to the warehouse where the crate was quickly retrieved by the fork lift and positioned out back by a dumpster. A fitting place to unpack I thought, have remember how things were hastily strapped and packed in Buenos Aires. Surprisingly enough when all the walls to the crate were pried off everything was still quite secure. I went to work meticulously dumping all the parts and pieces in a big pile. In a short time most of the pieces were strapped, duct taped, tied, and bolted back in place. The battery was connected and a 1/2 liter of gas was dumped and the tank. With much anticipation I pushed the start button and to no surprise grrrr.... grrrr ....grrrrr....grrrr....nothing. After a little more tinkering I was off to try to give it a start again and sure enough the battery was dead. After minimal success in rallying anyone with jumper cables to help my cause I parked the bike under a lamp post in front of the warehouse and locked it all up. With the battery in my backpack I made my way back into the city and found a motorcycle repair shop to charge my battery overnight. Tomorrow I will go back once again to the dreaded Barcelona dock with a fresh battery and a can of starting fluid and hope the bike is still there for me to tinker with.

2006-05-03T12:51:00.000-07:00

2006-05-03T01:29:00.000-07:00

After several enjoyable days wondering around the narrow streets of Barcelona and taking in some of the impressive architecture it was time to get down to the dirty business of freeing the green monster from its cage in the Barcelona port customs. After waiting out the obligatory national holiday that seems to rear its head every time official business needs to be conducted, I awoke early and went down to visit my friendly local customs agent. They had informed me that before any of the customs clearance could begin I would need to pay 300 euros in "customs broker fees" that included a hefty 20% VAT and sign over in blood slave rights to my first born child. I arrived to the office in the port at 9am and was quickly relieved of my 300 euros and was told to come back at 3pm once they had everything sorted out with customs and I could begin tearing into my crate and assessing the damage. Well at least things are heading in the right direction I thought to myself as I walked out of the office in search of the #38 bus line that would take me back into the city. I thought I would spend the morning and afternoon at the Picasso museum before returning at 3pm. As I walked off in search of the bus stop everyone one kept telling me it was too far to walk. Thinking I had nothing but time I kept pressing on. Eventually I realized it was too far too walk and by the time I caught the bus to the city I would need to turn around to be back at the customs office by 3pm. At this point I spied a nice shady patch of grass that was beckoning me to take a nice nap to kill some time. I sprawled out in the shade of a tree and quickly passed out.

I awoke several hours later with a small problem. I could not open my eyes. My eyes were burning and I could only keep them open for a few seconds before having to shut them again. I sat there for a few minutes thinking it would pass. It didn't. I got up and half stumbled my way along a wall toward a guarded checkpoint. I explained my predicament and the police were quickly summoned. I once again explained my situation and they called an ambulance. After 15 min they told me the ambulance was not coming and they would take me to the hospital. As I went to climb in their car they pulled me back and explained my shirt was too dirty from laying in the grass to get in the car. They told me I needed to take it off and shake it off. Fair enough. In a half blinded state I took it off and beat the dirt and dust off against the wall. I climbed in and threw my backpack on the back seat which insited another eruption of rapid fire Spanish as one of the cops went back and removed all of their remaining gear to the trunk. Now safely quarantined we struck out for the hospital.

We arrived at the hospital and I climbed out and collected my things and turned to thank the two police officers for the ride. The car was already shooting out of the parking lot. I wandered into the admissions area and explained I had a problem with my eyes and was told I needed to go to the next room and see the medic. Seems easy enough I thought to myself. I sat down on a bench which seemed to be the waiting line. After 15 minutes no one seemed the least bit interested in me. I talked to a security guard who told me I needed paper work from the same admissions people who had spent me here to begin with. I went back to the admissions desk that was now being manned by someone else. I explained I needed to see someone about my eyes and was promptly told that they had no doctors here that could look at eyes and was given the names of several other clinics. My eyes were slowly getting better and I think I must have had some sort of allergic reaction to something where I had taken my nap. I wandered back to the hostel where I was staying and flushed out my eyes with some eye drops. It was now after 6pm and the moto is still locked in its crate in the port. Ill get another early start tomorrow and see if I can have another productive day.

2006-05-02T23:42:00.000-07:00

And in the blink of an eye, seven months had vanished like sand through our fingers. We could not tell you exactly how much money we spent or all the names of the people and places that we crossed in our journey, but the memorable moments were plentiful and the generosity of people was humbling (as I droned on about every time we entered a new country). We witnessed incredible beauty that cannot be captured in books, but that must be experienced first hand. It seems surreal that I am now back to my life just as it was before....and I find myself yearning for the open road again. I envy Tim continuing on, but anxiously await his new tales of his travels in Europe. We weathered the travels well together...I couldn't have asked for a better companion. Perhaps by our next trip together, I might do a little driving myself....

Out of curiousity, I would love to know who is still reading out there and what you think. You can find me at sapogordo@gmail.com if you have any thoughts you care to pass along.

So, without further adieu, I turn this blog back to its rightful owner. Tim will be taking over from here to chronicle his adventures through Europe. Things tend to be a bit more tame while I am around, but somehow Tim attracts the unthinkable. The adventure is just gettin' good.

2006-05-02T16:15:00.000-07:00

In the meantime...

By day we were fixing the motorcycle and preparing to send her off, but in our free time we were enjoying the last week in Buenos Aires. Staying with a friend's family, there were many happy reunions to be had during the week. Kit, my brother flew across the Andes for one last visit. He joined us in several reunions and accompanied us exploring the city. His arrival was most eventful, a typical Argentine welcome. We arranged to meet at the most obvious landmark in the city: the obelisk situated in the middle of the immense highway 9 de Julio. Tim and I were startled by the sounds of explosions as we approached the obelisk. A protest had traffic stopped and the spirited group was setting off fireworks to draw yet more attention to their cause. With traffic backed up, Kit did not arrive for well over an hour after the arranged meeting time. As a budding photo journalist, we hardly got a hug before he ran off to capture the scene: a line of cops in full riot gear, protesters chanting and waving flags, traffic at a standstill. It is refreshing to see the freedom of expression not taken for granted. Just before Kit's arrival, Tim and I had watched the dramatic arrival of the Chilean president, Michelle Bachelet. There was much fanfare and further street closures, another coincidence where we happened to be in the right (?) place at the right time. We were welcomed like family and could not have asked for a better way to finish our travels. We could have stayed longer, but perhaps we just did not want to see the end to our amazing seven month journey through the americas.

In our short time in Buenos Aires though, Tim and I seemingly inspired some potential young motorcyclists that could perhaps follow in our footsteps one day. We were so gracious to my friends who took us in for the week. The pictures express the fun we had better than words.

2006-05-02T15:25:00.000-07:00

Nunca Mas!

The holiday that was complicating our schedule was a landmark one for Argentines asthey were observing the 30th anniversary of the military coup, bringing rise to a dictatorship that would lead to the disappearance of 30,000 of their countrymen and women. After visiting the city's cultural center and wandering in a haze through exhibit after exhibit from artists trying to come to terms with their past and still searching for answers. Their message was clear: Nunca Mas! Never Again! While trying to digest all that we had seen in the museums, we took to the streets. We planned our visit to the Plaza de Mayo (which lies in front of the presidential palace and is where a group of mothers who lost their children have marched every Thursday to continue their fight against social injustices) just as various marches were all converging along the streets that radiate out from the plaza. Thousands of people carried signs with pictures or names of family members and friends that disappeared during the Dirty War. The air was filled with energy and comradery and the masses joined together to acknowledge this atrocity and to ensure that history never repeats itself. I stood there with goosebumps covering my body on the warm summer night as we watched hundreds of people march past us.

2006-05-01T22:04:00.000-07:00

Mission Impossible

Arriving to Buenos Aires, it seemed we had everything in place. We had spoken to a shipping company that agreed to ship the bike, we just needed to get the ball rolling. With a week to spare, it seemed like ample time to make all the final arrangements. When we called the company to let them know we were ready to begin the process, we discovered that they would not have a container ready to ship for more than a month....back to square one. Without too much hastle we came up with another shipper at a comparable rate, so we were back on track. Then we came to find out that Friday was a national holiday, and Tim and I had flights out the following Monday evening. This left us a day to do maintenance on the bike, a day to take care of paperwork-crate the bike-send her off, and a day to spare (the day we were flying out) if this timeline did not work out. The moto was taken apart, a very worn sprocket changed, the gas filter and tank were thoroughly cleaned, and she even got her first bath....well, sort of. Then moving onto the shipping, we underwent the obligatory run around, extra fees, and repeated trips back and forth between agencies. In the running around, we managed to run out of gas (again!), although this time we did not have spare gas along. Luckily we were in the city and a gas station was only a few blocks away. As the holiday weekend approached, we had not even gotten to crating the bike, which was to be left for Monday. No worries, we were told it should only take 3 hours, so we showed up as the dock warehouse opened, and somehow the crate was finished right at lunchtime. Another hour of waiting to get the stamp of approval from customs. Hoping it would be quick and easy, I was disheartened when the customs official claimed we had to open the finished crate to cross reference the VIN number. I can only imagine his chuckle came from my pale face and look of desperation...and he let it go. It was late in the afternoon by the time we parted from the Green Monster that had carried us so far. We are just crossing our fingers that she does not appear in shambles in Barcelona. (Tim will find out soon enough what state she is in). So, with a few hours to spare, we raced off to pack our bags for the trip home. Nothing is ever easy, but that is much of the adventure.

2006-05-01T21:50:00.000-07:00

Turbulent Times

We caught the ferry across to Buenos Aires from Colonia. Unlike most of the ferries we had seen throughout this adventure, we cruised across the La Plata river in a boat more akin to a casino than a modest ferry (the cost also reflected this). The ferry rocked to and fro across the choppy river. It was impossible to walk a straight line, and it was even more likely for you to crash into a wall or railing while moving about. Our concern throughout the ride was not the choppy ride, but rather what we were going to do once we got to Buenos Aires. We would be arriving after dark, and we were having problems with our headlight. The fuse kept burning out and we had already used up all the fuses that we had on hand. For safety measures we strapped my headlamp to the front of the bike. Luckily the route was well lit and it was not a problem that we did not have a light....that must have been why so many of the other cars were driving without their headlights too!

2006-05-01T21:16:00.000-07:00

Colonia

We wrapped up our trip in the picturesque colonial town of Colonia. Ironically enough, we ran out of gas as we were approaching the town. We had also run out of gas our very first tank, riding down through sparce Arizona. Somehow we felt we had come full circle (luckily both times we were carrying along just enough extra gas to coast into the next gas station). So, we spent two days exploring the narrow cobblestone streets of Colonia, dotted with old cars (bringing them out for effect) parked in front of antique shops and art galleries. It would have been a good opportunity to send some post cards and pick up some souveneirs for our friends and family supporting us this long while, but in our typical fashion...we just enjoyed the sights and basked in our last night on the road. Dining at a small restaurant operated out of a house, we sat near the river, listened to a local eclectic band, and feasted on juicy steaks. It was the calm before the storm. Once in Buenos Aires we had much to accomplish, but for the time being...we suppressed all of that and enjoyed a cool summer night, our last on the road.

2006-05-01T19:34:00.000-07:00

Hidden in the Shadows

Often forgot about, Uraguay lays smashed between Brazil and Argentina, two of South America's leading countries. Without the appeal of the Brazilian beaches or the dreamy Argentine culture, Uraguay is often forgotten about. We were anxious to enter Uraguay, fleeing the higher standard of living in Brazil (ie. $5/gal for gas) and get away from the developed beaches. We discovered quiet beach towns full of quaint cottages along the northern coast. Outside of the high season, it seemed we had everything to ourselves, strolling through empty sandy lanes and getting to know the locals. Lots of natural areas and beautiful dunes compose a more rugged coastline. It would be an ideal spot to rent a cottage to spend the summer.

One excursion led us to an old farmer's land who charges a modest fee to visit an unusual ombu forest that stretches across his property. These grand trees typically are solitary spreading their grand limbs over the vast pampas. However, this site is unique in having a forest that stretches for 20 km, but only grows several meters deep. After a ride out to the forest on his rickety old tractor, he accompanied us down a path in the shade of the mighty ombus, some of which are said to be more than 600 years old.

2006-04-30T16:47:00.000-07:00

2006-04-30T16:40:00.000-07:00

Overnight Bus

Just as it was beginning to feel that our adventure was winding to a close, it became evident that we would be finding adventure, or rather, it would be finding us....right up until we crated the motorcycle and headed for home. Returning to the Brasilian coast, we opted to take a highway that followed a narrow spit of land for some 250 km or so before returning to the mainland. According to our trusty map, we would encounter a 50 km stretch of dirt road, but that hardly seemed to be a problem. It seemed as though we were one of few who had outsmarted the rest, getting off the highway and cruising quickly down this beautifully paved road. Another hot day in the sun, riding through the wide, open plains....this was reminiscent of many of our days spent on the bike. After at least 150 km, there were huge chunks of pavement missing where the sand had eroded away below. Before long, we were riding through 10-20m stretches of sand....and then the pavement disappeared for good. Our map indicated dirt, but we had not bargained for sand (and this was thick, loose sand). I hopped off the bike for Tim to test out the driving conditions with our laden down bike. As he slowly progressed, a local on a little 125cc motorbike came flying through, sending showers of sand in all direction. He was out of sight immediately, and we were left contemplating the challenge ahead. We decided to give it a go, and in retrospect it was a memorable experience. We fell 6-7 times, stopped periodically when the moto (and Tim) were overheating, I walked around the areas of loosest sand, and we still were not able to make it through this stretch of road before sunset. Considering where we should set up the tent for the night, we came upon a small town (ie. a few houses, a church, and a small store). It quickly became apparent that this was the reststop for the buses running this route. We had hardly climbed off the bike and a bus pulls through and we became the center of attention. We waited for the bus to ramble on before we wandered up to the storefront to find something to snack on. Verinha proved to be our savior this night, serving up some empanadas. The clients from the bus simply had the food quickly passed over the countertop, but we received special treatment. A lace tablecloth was pulled out and we were seranaded with Verinha's very own CD being pumped out of a little boom box on the countertop. The orange ball of a full moon rose steadily into the sky while our moods were coming around with full bellies. The round, middle-aged Verinha had a huge heart and a contagious smile that we passed back and forth while eagerly munching on some delicious empanadas. We inquired about pitching a tent, and wound up sleeping in an abandoned bus that had been converted. They brought out dusty old foam mattresses and hooked up a light for us. It was an ideal setting until the mosquitos appeared. First a faint buzzing and then we each seemed to have our own personal cloud of mosquitos flying around our heads with their incessant shrill buzzing. Hunkering down in our sleeping bags, we sweated like pigs. We even tried to don our helmets to keep them out....but that kept the air out too. We finally pitched the tent inside the bus and slept soundly protected from the noisy blood suckers. A light breeze ran through the bus, and we drifted off to sleep with the occasional interuption of a motorcyclist racing through the sandy lane, in the middle of the night.

The next morning, we bid farewell to Verinha with many thanks and one of her CDs in tow. It was a mere 12 km until we reached paved road again. Of course, this took a couple of hours....but we were grateful to be on firm ground again.

2006-04-29T21:30:00.000-07:00

Canyonlands

With a slight detour inland, we gained decent elevation and made our way to a region known for its several vast canyons. With our negligible portuguese, we had trouble getting information on how to access the various canyons, but we did figure out that the one national park we were heading for would be closed for the following three days. We discovered a hostel, that we had all to ourselves since we arrived just as the high season was ending. It seemed that the thing to do in the area was take an organized tour to explore some of the canyons, but Tim and I opted to put our two wheels to use. Winding up into the mountains, we were taking in the beautiful windswept grassy hillsides when we realized the rear tire was flat. Our exploratory ride came to a hault and (sure enough) we pulled a nail out of the rear tire. We go through the hastle of pulling the rear tire off, only to discover that we cannot break the bead to remove the tire. Instead, we reinflated the tire by hand and we were able to make it back to the nearest town, where a mechanic quickly removed the tire with his hydraulic press. With the proper tools, one can do anything.

2006-04-29T20:35:00.000-07:00

Golden Bodies and Turquoise Waters

We beelined over to the coast, and made several stops along the famed Brasilian coastline. Discovering lots of overly developed beaches lined with hotels and restaurants. However, with a little searching we discovered some quintessential white sand beaches with caribbeanesque turquoise waters. A few days were lost strolling on the beaches, sticking out like sore thumbs amid the sea of beautifully bronzed bodies. Our SPF 50 sunscreen had apparently been toted along a bit too long. Our sunscreen failed us and the intense Brasilian sun left us with lobster skin after the first day on the beach. Being in a touristy town, a small $20 bottle of sunscreen was our only hope if we wanted to return to the beaches.

We somehow chose the ugliest day to go scuba diving. The intense wind prevented us from going out to a marine reserve, so the decision was made to take us to a reef near the shore, where we dove in turbid water. While it was a fun outing, the visibility was quite low and the day ended when Tim and I were called in because the winds were picking up further.

We endured a few storms along the Brasilian coast, weathered in our less-than-waterproof tent. So, we slept as close to the center of the tent as possible and kept mostly dry. Our fellow 'campers' were completely outfitted with their RVs and satellite dishes. We could see them peering out at us from their dry seats sitting down to dinner.

The sun was also plentiful though, which our sensitive skin (accustomed to being hidden under our hefty riding gear) could attest to. This was seemingly our vacation from our vacation along the coast of Brazil, however, Tim and I both agreed that we would tire quickly of the beach bum lifestyle.

2006-04-29T18:05:00.000-07:00

In the Splendid Mist of Iguazu

A generous two days were dedicated to exploring Iguazu falls, once from the Brasilian side and then getting another view from the Argentine. The Iguazu River that creates the falls forms the border between these two countries. Visiting from both sides, gives two distinct views of this monstrous waterfall that is composed of more than 200 individual falls, any one of which would be spectacular standing alone against the backdrop of lush green jungle. Together they create a complex system of falls cascading over a basalt table top, plunging more than 30m, before reuniting and calmly winding through a lush canyon below. From the Brazilian side, it is a more shock and awe approach, taking a short trail to a lookout soaking you in the mist from the Garganta del Diablo (Devil's Throat). The thunderous water allows you to block out the sounds of the other tourists being herded around with their tour groups. The platform, built over several other less impressive waterfalls, places you smack dab in the middle of the action, in a vibrant ecosystem that thrives on the constant mist of the falls, highlighted by hints of rainbows everywhere you turn. In contrast, the Argentine side has various catwalks affording you ample opportunities to avoid the other tourists and visit many of the individual falls. We did our best to avoid the throngs of tourists, which was reminiscent of Machu Picchu...which proved to be challenging. We finally got away from the falls taking this small dirt trail to another waterfall in a different part of the park. Finding a handful of people enjoying the cool waters of the pool below the waterfall, Tim was swimming around as soon as we arrived. Originating from a tiny stream, this waterfall had created a beautiful bowl that provided the perfect place to retreat from the masses and relax.

2006-04-29T17:49:00.000-07:00

A Country Apart

With a huge land mass that dominates the South American continent, Brazil is a gem that stands apart from its neighbors. We immediately encountered a warm, more ethnically diverse population than we had found in the neighboring countries. It was helpful that Brasilians are a patient, curious people. With no background in portuguese, we had to rely on our spanish to get us through. Most Brasilians that we met were more than willing to roll with the punches and piece together a conversation with us. They spoke to us in slow portuguese and we responded in spanish. With the addition of hand motions and facial expressions, we were befriended by our neighbors at our campsites, random people at restaurants, and helpful people along the route. They never seemed deterred when we shrugged our shoulders and told them we did not understand. They just pressed on until they got a glimmer of recognition in our eyes and returned a friendly smile. With limited time (we know....we know....most people don't consider 2-3 weeks a limited time), we opted to forego Rio de Janeiro and cut across southern Brazil to the coast and work our way down the coast. Most Brasilians let us know that we missed the most beautiful parts of their country by taking this route, but we simply vowed to return.

2006-04-29T12:31:00.000-07:00

Parting Ways

With Tim now awaiting the arrival of the motorcycle in Barcelona, I have two weeks of work under my belt and am slowly readjusting to the traditional workday. In typical fashion, Tim arrived just in time for Spanish holidays, meaning that the customs offices will be closed creating a four day weekend. The motorcycle awaits patiently, still crated in a port warehouse....and Tim is off exploring Barcelona. Now, I am resigned to living vicariously through Tim's adventures. So, after a few posts to round out our trip in South America (which I do apologize for my delinquency), I will be turning the blog over to Tim. He might need a bit of encouragement from everyone, but I think with enough encounragement perhaps we can convince him to keep us posted on his adventures, which started during his first hours navegating Barcelona.

2006-03-20T11:17:00.000-08:00

*News Flash*

I hope you all have not come to the assumption that the trip ended early and we were disappearing without another word. We have still been on the road all this time, but as the remaining time slipped through our fingers, blogging was placed on the back burner while enjoying the coast of Brazil down into Uraguay. There is still much to tell from the past several weeks and will trickle in slowly. As of today, we have one week left that will be spent in Buenos Aires doing some maintenance on the moto and shipping her off to....Europe. While my travels are mostly finished for now, Tim will continue on without his co-pilot. His plan (as it stands now) is to ship the moto to Germany, where he will start his tour of Europe sometime in May. He reports back to work in August, so this will give him ample time to explore heading south to Turkey and (time willing) north to the Scandanavian countries. A tentative route is awaiting his arrival. I, on the other hand, will be returning to my field biology job in southern Utah. But, before we get into all of that, there are still many tales to tell...

2006-03-04T18:04:00.000-08:00

Ciudad del Este

We traveled through lots of small towns along the highway, mostly composed of red dirt roads and small houses. In the interior of the country, it is a slow pace of life, and people are hardly seen without a big thermos and their Terere. Instead of mate, the addiction in Argentina, Terere is the common way to drink tea in Paraguay. A thermos of ice water is poured over loose tea leaves in a hollowed out horn and drunk through a metal straw with a sieve at the end. (I´m sure that you are having no problem getting a clear picture of this, right?!) Right at the end of this highway that cuts east-west across the country, we rolled into Ciudad del Este. Despite the warnings from Patricio that we should not attempt to cross the border on a Saturday, we went for it. Ciudad del Este is a shopping mecca for people from surrounding areas, that come to get their electronics, tires, bed linens, you-name-it, at low prices without taxes. Apparently Wednesday and Saturday are the big shopping days. To cross from Paraguay to Brazil, you cross a the Friendship Bridge. We could not even see the bridge yet when we were caught in complete gridlock. Most motorcycles snake right on through, but our wide load does not enjoy that luxury. Some guys came out in the street and started directing cars to move up or back to open up a space for us to get through. They sent us back in the direction we had come to take a side road down through stalls and markets (along with much other motorcycle traffic) that would bypass all the traffic at a standstill. Before we knew it, we were in the midst of a sea of motorcyclists, all the wee bikes humming and pushing their way towards this closed gate. A police officer opened the gate and it was a day at the races as we defied physics and forced our way through the gate. We successfully made it out of Paraguay without a stamp or even seeing customs and immigrations. We could have easily done the same on the Brazilian side, but we knew that a legal entry was a bit more necessary to avoid future problems. While people streamed past us with bags of newly purchased posessions and cars, trucks and motorcycles whizzed through the border in either direction, we went through the formalities of importing the motorcycle. Although a bit hectic and confusing in the moment, it was a worthwhile experience witnessing the insantiy of this corner of the world.

2006-03-04T17:34:00.000-08:00

Paraguay--Giving Color to the Black Hole

Tim and I agreed, as we were approaching Paraguay, that neither of us knew anything about this small South American country. Tim contributed that it was one of the most corrupt countries in the world, according to some statistics he had come across. We arrived in Asuncion, the capital city, in the midday steamy heat. After crossing the flat chaco region of Argentina, we were greeted by a lush, green, beautiful city. Modern, yet maintaining its old, cultural flair in its architecture, Asuncion was a fusion of history and technology. This is common with many of the Latin American cities, however, I was struck by this phenomenon in Asuncion.

While visiting the city, we stayed with the family of another motorcycle traveler that we had met in Peru. Patricio, after only having spent an hour or so chatting with us in a small bar in Peru, took us straight to his parent´s house where we were warmly welcomed. Over two days and one night, we ate many a fine meal and got lots of history and geography lessons about Paraguay. Patricio was our tour guide around Asuncion, making sure that we had visited all the key buildings and landmarks.

From Asuncion, we drove across Paraguay to the Brazilian border. Expecting to make it through the border in one afternoon, we were met by an onslaught of rain that kept our speed slow and kept us in Paraguay another day in a small town. It was getting late in the day as we were splashing through the puddles of rain on the highway. The sun broke through the thick clouds behind us sending a golden glow across the thick vegetation surrounding us. A full rainbow grew brighter and brighter in front of us with a faint shadow of a second behind it. While we enjoyed the breathtaking views of the rainbow against the golden vegetation against a dark blue sky, threatening mazes of lightening bolts reminded us that the storm was still lurking overhead and was far from finished. With rain continuing to fall on us, stinging our hands and filling out already soggy boots, we had the most magnificent moment on the road.

2006-03-04T17:33:00.000-08:00

From One Consulate to the Next

We arrived, despite many a moto mishap, at the Paraguay border late in the day. We quickly checked us and the bike out of Argentina and then slipped over to Paraguay immigration. Little did we know that we (as americans) needed a visa to get into Paraguay. This is not something that you can quickly take care of at the border. We had to return to Clorinda, the last town before the border to visit the Paraguayan Consulate. In order to do this, we had to get stamped back into Argentina....and redo the paperwork on the bike too. The Argentine folks were friendly and shook their heads at the Paraguayans for asking for money. We knew though that we had no room to complain since we have slipped in and out of every country that we have visited so far. If our country asks so much of everyone trying to visit it, it was about time we had to jump through a few hoops too. Of course, the office was already closed, so our only option was to pay a visit the next morning. A bit of waiting and filling out forms and we were back at the border with an official visa in our passports and our wallets slightly thinner.

A day later, we got to repeat the whole process again, while visiting Asuncion. This time we were thinking ahead and getting our visas for Brazil. It was a bit more red tape and waiting, but in the end we had paid our fees and had yet another visa in the passport.

2006-03-04T17:30:00.000-08:00

Checkpoint

After 6 months of traveling, we had not had a single incident in whichcops tried to bribe us, or even pulled over for speeding. We hadheard many a tale of situations that other travelers had run into, butnever experienced the situation ourselves until northern Argentina.We had met a group of Brazilian motorcyclists traveling in theopposite direction that had warned us about this stop. The warningwas in the distant past when a cop motioned us to stop at a typicalcheckpoint. We have fallen into particular roles during the trip: Ispeak to people and Tim drives the bike. Although Tim also does do abit of talking, I do not drive the bike. So, as we rolled to a stop,I flipped up my helmet and greeted the cop. He was a 55 or more andthose years must not have treated him well because he seemed to beseeking some revenge or needing to exert his power....or perhaps justneeding some extra money to support his family. It is hard to say atthis point. I responded to his gruff question of where we weretraveling from. ´Gonzalez´, I told him. He did not want to deal withme, so he repeated the question to Tim. Tim gave the same response.At this point, the guy starts barking at us that he needs to see our´Guia de las rutas provinciales´. I inquire as to what this supposeddocument is and all he can do is repeat this name incessantly withoutexplantion. He orders us to park the moto on the shoulder of the roadand follow him into his wee hut. Armed with no more than a modestchair and table with a few papers scattered on it, he takes a seat athis throne. With the motorcycle documents and Tim´s drivers licensein his hands, we could not just take off. He proceeds to inform us ofthe fine for not getting this documentation. The price rose and fell. His final offer was 20 pesos (about 7 bucks)....but had risen to asmuch as 300 pesos. I continued to insist on an explanation and hehands me two tattered old booklets outlining regulation and laws. Hewas unable to show me where in the book this information was, so I wasleft to read it all myself if I wanted to find this requirement. At some point after much banter back and forth, the fellow got fed up with me. He decided he would only deal with Tim since the motorcycle belongs to him. I was told that too many words had already been wasted on me. Perhaps he was thinking he could get Tim to cooperate with him if I was out of the way. Tim asked where we needed to get this documentation and the cop claimed that we needed to buy it in the Salta, 200km behind us. Tim said we would have to drive back there then. Deflated and frustrated, the old sap made one final attempt asking for a mere 20 pesos. Tim replied that we would go back to Salta. Knowing that we were not going to budge, he waved us through.

2006-03-04T17:09:00.000-08:00

A Second Wind

Much of the last week was spent on the side of the road. It seems that several small issues all arose at the same time, or so we are believing. We would fix one problem and then the next would arise. We were really becoming quite comfortable and handy at pulling the seat and tank off to start tackling the potential problem. Perhaps I should fully clarify these situations. I am always quite eager to pull the seat and tank off because those are the procedures that I can readily handle. Then I turn things over to Tim and he consults the KLR manual and goes to work. I stand by, ready to lend a hand whenever my hand might be needed. Seeing as though my hands are smaller than Tim´s, sometimes they are just the right size to squeeze into a small space.

The latest issue left us stranded in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a rainstorm. We watched the dark clouds approaching, as we rolled to a stop time and time again as the motor cut out on us. We were traveling in 2-3 km increments and the storm overtook us in no time. Sitting beside the bike, with our full gear and helmets on, we waited out the storm and with the ensuing humid, thick air, we slowly continued down the road.

Another episode left us stranded in the city of Corrientes, that we were just going to visit for an hour or two. A friendly chap noticed us stopped (and the looks of frustration on our faces) and offered us a hand. We accepted and had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. Old Pablo hauled us to (seeminly) every motorcycle shop in the city. He was proud and glad to help us, but we lost more time that could have been used tinkering around on the bike driving circles around the city. It´s the thought that counts though, right?

Amazingly, the spirits have been kept up everytime the bike has gone sour on us. The gas filters have been cleaned several times. The spark plug has been changed. The carburetor had been taken out and inspected on two occasions. Even when we are stranded in the middle of nowhere....it is a ´new´ somewhere and we hardly have room to complain.

2006-03-04T16:46:00.000-08:00

Carnaval--Humahuaca Style

Along with throngs of others, we set up camp in a big plot that was already surpassing its capacity and many more would show up after us. With our tent set up...and a place to call home for the night, we set off to explore the dusty roads of this normally quiet, sleepy town. A carnaval tradition in this region was to douse all participants in flour or baby powder....along with foam (from aerosol spray cans) and confetti. Tim and I steered clear of the mayhem for a short while, but it was not long before we began to stand out of the crowds and became the target. For the remainder of the day and on into the night, we looked like we had aged several decades due to our white hair and pale skin. The streets were abuzz with drunken people wondering around and traditional music and dancing was to be found in several spots around the town. As the sun set, the streets became more crowded with people as several parades of people with their own music began to converge in the center of town. The festivities brought in people from all around the region, but we saw very few foreigners and it seemed as if everyone knew each other. It was a festive, happy occasion that carried on into the wee hours of the morning. The next morning, when we rolled out of the tent, there were still people sitting around the bulging campground sipping on wine and chattering away.

2006-02-26T14:13:00.000-08:00

Moto Maintenance 101

Using our dark, dingy hotel room as a shop, along with the hotel parking lot, Tim pulled out the carburetor to make sure that everything was clean and that nothing was sticking. We also decided to clean the gas filters again. They were again coated with a grimy substance, so it was quickly becoming where our problem might lie. However, again our only option was to test it out. From Jujuy, we continued north into an arid zone of the province. The route was lined with small little communities composed of modest adobe houses at the bases of spectacular hills that appeared to have been brushed with a bright earthen tones. It was a painter´s pallet of earthen colors. Little stalls in the towns sold handicrafts and local cuisine. The road was abuzz with cars heading north with us. Most were heading to Humahuaca, which is known for its traditional carnaval celebrations. About halfway through our drive, the moto pulls its number once again. We were about a mile past the last gas station and (like seasoned professionals) pulled the motorcycle apart on the shoulder of the highway. We got honks and waves from the cheerful festival-goers. We quickly cleaned the filters and then went back to the gas station knowing what needed to be done. We drained the gas out of the gas tank. Then Tim, with the tank thrown over his shoulder, walked around to the front of the gas station to get some fresh gas. The attendent responded, '¡hijo de puta!---¡son of a bitch!', at the sight of Tim carrying the gas tank over. After several days of bewilderment, Tim got to the bottom of our problem and we got rid of the bad gas that was plaguing our travels....and we continued on up the road with the hoards that were swarming on this small village.

2006-02-26T13:58:00.000-08:00

One Surprise after the Next

The old route to Jujuy was virtually a one lane crumbling paved road. The vibrant vegetation suffocating the road that snakes in and out of the green hills. With little traffic, we swept around corners and through canopies of trees. Curve after curve kept us going at a slow constant pace. Rounding one curve, the rear wheel spun out from under us and Tim and I skidded around the corner on the ground. We did our requisite check to make sure the other was okay and quickly got the bike off the road. Ironically enough, the bike was still running while laying on its side....HOWEVER, it seems we have been having trouble keeping her running while upright. We checked out the curve and there was fine gravel and sand the exact color of the roadway right in our path. Walking away unscathed, we climbed back on the bike not letting a little fall dampen the beautiful ride. We were doing a mere 100 km from Salta to Jujuy, but as you might just expect, we found ourselves (yet again) on the side of the road. As usual, I played the role of trusty assistant while Tim scratched his head and wondered where the problem could be coming from. Not knowing what else to do, we let her sit and rest, then tried and tried again to start her up....until the carburator was flooded and gas was pouring everywhere. But, as with the other times, she started up eventually....and we crossed our fingers that we would make it to Jujuy.

2006-02-26T13:34:00.000-08:00

Recurring Problem

As if nothing had happened, we cruised into Salta and found a little hostel from where we could check out the city. A bustling city with colonial charm, we wandered the streets and noticed how much Salta resembled a Peruvian or Bolivian city with its highly indigenous population. In the northern provinces of Argentina, the indigenous populations were not wiped out during colinization as they were throughout the rest of the country. Thus the northern provinces still maintain a cultural flare that is not found throughout the rest of the country. The city itself sits in a bowl surrounded by lush green hills and houses a plethora of ornate churches. After a day of relaxing and enjoying the city, we loaded up the bike again and were set to head north. About a block down the road, she stutters and cuts out on us again. Our hopes had been that the problem had solved itself, but this appeared to not be the case. Running intermittently, we drove up to this hill that overlooks the city. If we could make it up and back, we would continue towards Jujuy. If not, we would stay in Salta another day. As if she knew of this test, she performed well climbing up the hill with spectacular views of the city. It was not until we were several kilometers north of the city, just embarking on the old, lesser populated route (avoiding the interstate), that she rolled to a stop leaving us stranded once again. We were on the shoulder of the route trying to start the moto when a women strolled out of her house and invited us to pull the bike into her driveway to figure things out. I pushed from behind and Tim steered into the bare dirt patch in front of her house. Mariela, our new found savior, was as pleased to have us there as we were to have a place to work things out. Serving us mate, while munching on a big wad of coca leaves, Mariela took wonderful care of us while we were under her watch. Once again, the bike was dismantled and this time the valve on the gas tank was removed and the filters cleaned. The whole while Mariela oogled over Tim and chatted away. A test drive suggested that things were in order, so hugs and kisses were passed around before Tim and I set on our way.

2006-02-23T12:18:00.000-08:00

Inquiring Minds

We got an early start, um...early by our standards. The sun was just cresting the hills and warming things up, but the moto was still refusing to turn over. A bit more aimless tinkering, and she purred to life. We let her run for a bit and she sounded fine. We packed up camp and were just finishing brushing our teeth and putting the last bags on the bike when this young guy (perhaps 10 or 12) from one of the local villages road past on his bicycle. We greeted each other and then he just stood by quietly watching us. Not really responding to some comments I made to him, I figured he just wanted to watch us. Tim started the bike up and it ran fine for about a minute before cutting out again. So, we pulled off all our riding gear and got some tools back out to return to the tinkering. As Tim darted from one side of the bike to the other, the young boy matched his moves and followed close behind him. Without a word, we watched as Tim´s hands pulled and prodded at tubes and bolts. After a while, either tiring of watching or figuring we were going to be there all day, we got a friendly ¨¡Chau!¨ as he climbed on his bike and continued to pedal on down the quiet road.

Tim had decided that the engine was not getting gas properly, perhaps a problem in the carburetor...some sort of blockage. The battery was nearly dead when Tim tried to turn her over and she came to life. In a frantic dash, Tim and I threw the parts on that we had pulled off and suited up in record time before the moto had a chance to crap out on us again. The sun was well overhead as we made our way back through canyons and desert on our way to Salta. The moto did not even sputter once on our drive back...but we never solved the problem either.

2006-02-23T11:52:00.000-08:00

Tired Old Bike

We have spent several long days on the bike since leaving Buenos Aires, and yesterday was no exception. We started out from Cafayate and were immediately greeted by brilliant red rock formations as the route zigzagged up through a canyon. We hiked back into two slot canyons that were exactly like something you would find in a national park in Utah.....only they were free and just a quick stop off the route. From desert, we found our way out into lush green fields and back to the heat of the lowlands. So, we opted to bypass Salt and go back up into the mountains. There is a popular tourist train called the Tren de las Nubes that carried you up into the mountains to an old mining town. We drove the road that parallels this train route and is much cheaper. Our plan was to camp anyhow, and it was fortunate that we had planned as such when we found ourselves coasting to the side of the road. We could not get the old girl to turn over for anything. So, as the sun was getting low in the sky and the cold was setting in, we set up camp along this lonely road. The bike was completely dismantled, so when it got too dark to see, we clumped all the parts together and had dinner. The only towns nearby were composed of several houses, a market and perhaps a church, but once the sun was down there was no sign of them. We grabbed our sleeping pads and laid out on the road to gaze at the stars appearing across the sky. It was perfectly silent except for the small stream gurgling nearby and even though the moto was not working, we did not have a care in the world. A few shooting stars must have been good omens....

2006-02-23T11:23:00.000-08:00

Landscape Potpourri

Once we got up into the northern provinces, which were our destination, we began to sail through different landscapes. From desert, we rose up into dense subtropical jungle, continuing up into high plains before dropping down into arid wine country. In the course of one day we rose up out of the lowlands, dipping in and out of valleys each with something new to share. The road we were driving consisted of some 1,400+ curves (on paved roadway, which made for a fun day of riding). Riding up into the foothills of the Andes, we sought refuge from the heat below. All the rivers we saw were gushing with thick chocolatey water, telling of rain higher up in the mountains. As we were descending down from the high plains, we encountered one of the dry stream crossings to be raging. Apparently the rains were quite heavy, cutting off our route. We were the only ones sitting there facing this stream initially, which would make it appear that everyone else was able to make it through. Tim was ready to stroll out into the water to check the depth and speed of the water. We realized the sounds we were hearing were huge rocks pulled down with the water....and Tim opted not to venture in. Within15 minutes, there was a line of 15-20 cars and trucks waiting for the water level to drop. After more than an hour of waiting, and witnessing several cars and trucks successfully ford the stream, Tim and an Argentine biker that we were chatting with decided to give it a go. The Argentine had a chopper that was his own creation and obviously his baby. He opted to follow a big semi insisting that the truck would part the waters (Moses style?) so that it would be easier to cross. Holding his legs out in front of him to keep his jeans and tennis shoes dry, he managed to ride directly over this huge rock and went helter skelter with the bike. Unfortunately, his feet and pants got wet, but he managed to get the bike through. Tim cruised through without the help of the truck parting the waters and made it through unscathed...and hardly wet. By this time, the sun was setting over the vineyards and there was only one more stream crossing before arriving in Cafayate, where we stayed the night in a campground. It had been a long day of riding and we were just starting to set up the tent when a different Argentine fellow came over with his camera. He and his wife were traveling on a Honda Shadow with virtually no suspension. They were hoping to sell it soon, so instead of strapping things onto the bike (which might scratch it), they were carring all camping gear and personal items in several backpacks that they had slung onto themselves wherever possible. Although there was a hint of envy in his eye, it was obvious that they were enjoying their adventure as much as we are enjoying ours. On our ride, we had also met a British couple that has been on the road for 2.5 years now. We saw their bike when we were down in Ushuaia, but had not met them then. They were a jolly couple full of crazy stories of their travels....including more than 50 tumbles and a hole the size of a baseball in their gas tank. We had dinner with them sipping on local wine, while they entertained us with lots of other stories.

2006-02-23T11:07:00.000-08:00

hot, HoT, HOT

We got a late start leaving La Plata and by the time we had reached Buenos Aires we were in the full heat of a blistering summer day. We skirted the city heading north, and began cruising along the highway hoping to make as much headway as possible. The pampas are best visited outside of the summer months and if they must be visited during the summer months, it is best to confine traveling to early morning and late evening. As it happened, we found ourselves in the midst of a summer afternoon in black riding gear on a hot motorcycle. The wind does little to cool you as it is more similar to the heater on high. Our second day continuing north, we got smart and were on the bike by about 7 am to travel a bit more comfortably. We drove through blizzards of white butterflies fluttering awkwardly over the highway. I tried to imagine that it was a real blizzard and that the salt flats were snow accumulating, but that hardly cooled our situation.

2006-02-18T10:50:00.000-08:00

End in Sight

While in the Buenos Aires area, we have purchased tickets home and started making arrangements for shipping the motorcycle. When we set off from Mexico, the end seemed so far away, but now it is within sight. We are not ready to end yet though. We had notions of riding up the whole coast of Brazil, boating up the Amazon and on into Venezuela. Although it was hard for us to decide against that, we did not want to be racing through the last stretch. Instead we opted for a gigantic loop that will take us up to the north of Argentina, crossing through Paraguay, and through the southern part of Brazil cutting south along the coast to Buenos Aires. With another week wrapping up things in Buenos Aires, our South American journey will come to an end. A trip that seemed so huge, taken one step or one country at a time, evolved into a beautiful journey. But, for now, there are still adventures to come and we will not be thinking too much about the return until it arrives.

2006-02-18T10:38:00.000-08:00

La Plata Reunion

Four years ago, four years that flew by in the blink of an eye, I spent a year in La Plata studying at the university. I lived with a woman in a homestay and for a year, came to call La Plata home. Amazingly after a year spent in this city, I could not get Tim to my old house without a few loops around the city. I guess the view is just different from the back of a motorcycle! We spent a week between La Plata and Buenos Aires, Tim tagging along as I dragged him around, catching up with friends that I have not seen since I left. Tim now has a few images to go along with all the stories of Argentina that I have inundated him with over the years.

Here in La Plata we have had a small apartment all to ourselves, which we have used as home base while making trips back and forth to Buenos Aires on the train or just exploring La Plata. In our restful time here, we changed the front tire that was seriously lacking tread after the trip down the Carretera Austral. The oil was changed, the air filter cleaned, and the white trash moto is looking good for the last stretch of our trip.

On top of fixing up the moto, in between visits, we have planned out the last stretch of our journey. At the end of March, we will be looping back to Buenos Aires and our trusty moto will get a bit of a break. Not only will that give me another chance to visit everyone in the area again, but we will just travel as long as time permits.

2006-02-18T10:30:00.000-08:00

Sierra de la Ventana

Our only destination in the Pampas as we shot up to Buenos Aires was an oasis in the plains. An old small mountain outcropping that is more a series of rocky hills. There are a plethora of outdoor opportunities, but we just hiked up to the outlook from where the chain gets its name. A natural window (ventana) perched high along a ridgeline. Tim and I felt a little better about our physical shape because we were hiking among families and city folk. While the hike up was not easy, it was nothing of the challenge we had encountered in patagonia. From the window, you have views in all directions as far as you can see of unending plots of farmland dividing up the landscape down below.

We spent two nights camping in the cool, comfortable weather psyching ourselves up for the climate to the north. Those were our last comfortable nights of sleep as we departed for La Plata and Buenos Aires. The humid heat, reminiscent of Central America, was a hard change to swallow...but it is just preparing us for the continued travels north.

2006-02-18T10:06:00.000-08:00

Patagonia to Pampas

The transition was less than dramatic moving north from the argentine patagonia into the pampas. From one wide open expansive landscape to the next. The only difference was that we started to reach populated areas and there is plenty of water for irrigating, so plenty of agriculture. It still left us on broad open stretched of nothingness though. So, we plodded along down the road and sympathized with the truck drivers that make this trip down to Ushuaia from Buenos Aires once every other week.

We have come to realize that we are the rather white trash end of the motorcycle travelers. After meeting up with a plethora of travelers from all over, we gaze at our duct taped bike that has zip ties holding this piece and that in place. Then there are the bags bungied on here and there. THEN...we have our frisbee (that doubles as a cutting board and plate) strapped on one side and our plastic beer bottle on the other side (quite useful in making powdered juices!). If we drop by the grocery store, everything purchased for that night´s meal is strapped haphazardly in any space available until we reach the campground. And here it was, we just thought we could take the title of the most white trash bikers on the road when we happened upon a Brazilean couple who all but put us to shame. An odd assortment of bags strapped on and stickers slapped on any available space made our bike look quite sharp. They were wonderfully friendly and we communicated in spanish with our thick accents making communicating a bit of a challenge.

2006-02-10T14:35:00.000-08:00

2006-02-08T18:07:00.000-08:00

Penninsula Valdez

Working our way up the Atlantic Coast, we made our way out to the Penninsula known for its diverse marine life that call its shores and waters home. There is only one small town on the penninsula and this is the only place to stay. We made our way to the municipal campground joining the drones of people vacationing there. It was a tent village stretching out over several 100 meters in any given direction. Some had set up camp for the entire summer, and then rest of us filled in the small gaps on whatever sandy patch we could find. We stopped at a spot after getting an encouraging nod from the people at the tent next door. They were a french canadian couple eager to welcome us as their new neighbors. While overwhelmed at first by the festivalesque atmosphere of the crowded campground and complete lack of any semblance of privacy (after having grown accustomed to the sparsely populated carretera austral), we settled in for two nice nights there.

We drove a circuit around the penninsula to visit several reserves with views of sea lion colonies, elefant seals, and penguins. We were not so fortunate to view any orcas. We traversed 150 km of corrugated gravelly (and sometimes sandy) roads. We spent much of the route sucking down other people´s dust as they zoomed by in a tour bus. When the dust cleared, we saw guanacos (llama relatives), ñandus (emu relatives), armadillos, and roadrunners...amongst others. Once out to the coast, we were entertained by the antics and interactions of the marine mammals. The sea lions fought incessantly amongst themselves, defending territory or just having a bad day. Our own private motorcycle tour took us all days long as the tour busses raced pass and we just did our best to stay vertical (which we amazingly achieved).

The true excitement came at the end of the day when we had only about 20 km left and a car (just like any other) comes whizzing past. The little compact car goes spinning out of control just as it gets past us, flying down off the road in a whirling cloud of dust. It spun a wide half circle well off the road and came tearing back to the road´s edge. When the dest settled, the car was just off the road and the driver lept out to check on the two kids in the back and the wife was in hysterics in the front seat. Miraculously they had barreled over the shallow ditch, through low vegetation, and spun back to the road without must more than a few scratches and the plastic undercarriage hanging loose. We offered our help getting the car back on the road or anything they needed. They were not exactly thinking straight, but soon another car showed up. A couple hopped out and the woman started barking orders. We had some wire to secure the undercarriage, silently passing things along as the women orchestrated the operation. When all was said and done, the cars sped off again and Tim and I resumed our steady march back to camp.

2006-02-08T17:47:00.000-08:00

Onwards to Argentina

And just when we thought Chileans were friendly!! Perhaps it is the mate (pronounced MAH-tay), their tea that they are seldom seen without. Perhaps it is the open country of the Argentine Patagonian plains?! We have never been greeted so energetically and boisterously by such an overwhelming number of people out on the roads. Truck drivers honking and waving, passengers from passing cars leaning out the window to give us the thumbs up and a hearty wave, and farmers looking up from their work to wave us on along. If nothing else, it does indeed break up the monotony of the scrubby brush as we fly along the straight flat (paved) highway. It was an immediate transition once we left the mountains and opened up in the immensity of the neverending flat windswept landscape. Our first night in Argentina, we found a spot to camp on the outskirts of a small town. It was a nice secluded spot, however, shortly after we awoke the next morning, a group of young argentines showed up apparently rounding out there night. So, as we packed up camp, they were noisily chattering and clanging about. It was as if they were welcoming us in. We had to ask them to move their car so that we could pull the motorcycle out. They all cheered when the car actually started.....they were all ready to push it out.

2006-02-08T17:38:00.000-08:00

Leaving Chile Behind

We spent an amazing 6 or 7 weeks in Chile traveling from tip to tip. Somehow we spent the biggest chunk of our trip in the most advanced AND most expensive of the south american countries we have visited thus far. Chile definitely stands apart from the rest of its neighbors and it seems to be decades ahead of many of the other Andean countries. The poverty was minimal and the overall standard of living was much higher. It has been interesting traveling through Chile as part of a larger trip to be able to compare it to other latinamerican countries and experience its differences. We enjoyed all Chile had to offer from the beautiful scenery, delicious food and friendly people. I suppose I get redundant with my assessments of places because we have found every country we have visited to be full of all three of those things. So, Chile was no exception and a memorable chunk of time was forever lost there.

2006-02-08T17:15:00.000-08:00

It Takes all Types

We were sitting beside the road, taking a lunch break, when two motorcyclists puled over to greet us. They pulled off their helmets and we discovered two British women in their sixties. They had started near Santiago, traveled down to Ushuaia and were heading north....on their way to the states. One woman was calm and composed asking questions about the road up ahead and where our travels had taken us. The other woman was busy throwing in funny quips and flailing around as she described what they had come through (jiggling her arms and thighs when informing us of the corrugated road up ahead). They were a dynamic duo defying the social norms and setting off on their own adventure.

2006-02-08T17:02:00.000-08:00

Our last day on the Carretera

While we did not make it to our new friend´s farm, we found a perfect spot alongside one of the many meandering rivers to call it a night as the sun set over the region. A big fire, scrumptious pasta, and no one for miles except the cows....all made for a wonderful prelude to the changing weather patterns. The rain began to fall during the night and by the time we peaked out of the tent the next morning, the green hills were hidden through layers of light rain that appeared to have settled in quite comfortably. We broke down camp in record time and soggily climbed onto the bike. The damp day was a welcome change and gave a different feel to the hills that we traveled through. Through intermittent rain, we drove around the gigantic Lake General Carreta. Rays slid through that electrified the already surreal turquoise waters of the lake. We snaked along cliffs high over the lake and could not soak in the views enough. It was absolutely breathtaking working our way around the shores. By the time we got to Chile Chico, we were leaving the mountains....and Chile. The sun was shining on our back as we headed east into Argentina.

2006-02-08T16:48:00.000-08:00

Washing Free of the Dust

Cruising down the Carretera Austral, we left the lush forested areas behind coming down into an arid zone where the sun beat down on us. Traveling along at our usual slow and steady pace, there was little wind cooling us. SO, when we came upon this beautiful turquoise river gently rolling past, we could not pass up the opportunity to take a dip to cool off. There was a guy there with his two young sons who were playing around in the water in their life jackets. We quickly shed our layers of gear and emerged in our swimsuits as the boys were drying off from their dip. I waded out into the water and the shock of the icy water shot up through my body. With the young boys standing there watching, I could not back out at that point. With one backwards glance, I took a deep breath and threw my body out into the current....and then gasped for air as I frantically swam back towards the bank. Tim was smarter (?) than I. He did not test the water and made a running approach letting out a yelp as he was midair over the water. Although painful, it was refreshing and we needed to shed a layer of dust.

We chatted with the guy, Javier, and his sons who invited us to come stay at their farm that evening. Javier was quite impressed with our trip and eager to have us as guests at his place. Unfortunately, we did not travel as quickly as he and did not make it to his farm which was much farther down the road than we had in us that day. We ran into him the following day further along the road and there was a hint of disappointment in his face that we had not joined him.

2006-02-05T17:30:00.000-08:00

Along Came Dolly

Long overdue, we finally made an important addition to the bike. A soft sheepskin is just what we needed to add a few more hours to the end of a long day of riding. We picked up 'Dolly' in Coyaique and Tim and I shivered with excitement when we tested it out. We felt like royalty. I suppose all this traveling is making us appretiate the simple things in life. We met a motorcyclist from South Africa who looked at Tim and said, 'I respect you, but I don´t envy you'. I think there are very few people out there who would entertain the notion of smashing onto a bike with another person for months on end. I suppose its better not to think about it and just do it. Adding Dolly to the equation late in the game has added some new excitement to our riding.

2006-02-04T17:23:00.000-08:00

Our Own Private Park

Approaching Coyaique, the only major town along the southern stretch of the Carretera Austral, we opted to camp in the park just a mere 5 kilometers outside of town. Although we probably could have gotten accomodations for cheaper WITH a bed somewhere in town, we ended up with the whole camping area all to ourselves with a stop overlooking a lake. With several trails branching out from our campsite, we explored the area without running into another soul. The city of Coyaique was bustling down below, but we were only listening to the wind whistling through the pines. Perhaps it worked to our advantage that the park fees are a bit outrageous.

2006-02-02T11:39:00.000-08:00

Take the Good with the Bad

The national parks and the landscape along the route here in southern Chile have made this stretch spectacular. Sunny days with clear blue skies have smiled at our backs, chased by nights in which the maze of stars shines brilliantly on us. The temperatures have been perfectly pleasant, so we have no reason to complain....except for those pesky horseflies! We have enjoyed taking a break midafternoon for a spot of tea. Usually the challenge is not finding a place, but deciding among the beautiful spots to stop. Then the second we climb from the motorcycle, the flies swarm around us and go into attack mode. On more than one occasion, we resorted to quickly sipping our tea while in full riding gear in order to fend of the little buggers bites. I suppose we do need something to bring us back to reality!?!

2006-02-02T11:26:00.000-08:00

More Glaciers

From our campsite in Parque Queulat, we were a short stroll from a trailhead leading up to a viewpoint of a glacier deep in the valley. We had gotten distracted hanging out with the couple traveling with the sidecar and then a Dutch couple 2 years into their travels. By the time we set out to hike the trail, I was getting anxious to get up to the glacier....so, we just jumped on the first trail we came to. After jumping over logs and scrambling under some on this poorly maintained trail, we realized that we were not getting any closer to the glacier. We had a nice warm up through dense forest to get a good sweat going before we started again on the proper trail. In the late afternoon light that trickled into the forest floor, we hiked at a swift pace to have some time to sit and watch the glacier. In t-shirts and sweating quite profusely, it felt odd that we were sitting there admiring a glacier. From the viewpoint, the glacier was still nearly a mile away forcing its way down through the valley. Several waterfalls originated from deep within the glacier, constantly sending large chutes of water pounding on the rock below. The water collected in a small lake that trickled down to yet another. The sound of chunks of ice hitting the rocks below echoed like thunder in the valley. From our vantage point, the ice cubes fell from the glaciar and then 5-6 seconds later a thunderous roar tore through the valley. Unlike Perrito Moreno, where we sat among hundreds if not thousands of visitors, Tim and I sat there alone at the viewpoint as the sun set on the valley.

2006-02-02T11:11:00.000-08:00

Part of the Club

Without realizing it, by jumping on the bike behind Tim.....I, too, have become part of the motorcycle world. When we cruised into Parque Queulat, further south on the Carretera Austral, we passed a campsite of motorcyclists. Once we had made camp, we wandered back to say hello to the others. There were two German guys traveling together and a couple (from Scotland and Holland) traveling on a motorcycle with a sidecar. They were loaded down with everything but the kitchen sink with plans of traveling as long as they were able to rent out their newly built house back in Scotland. We were crossing paths early on in their travels, but they had already met or spent time with people we had met or knew of. The motorcycle traveler´s world is apparently quite small once you have been around a while.

2006-02-02T10:59:00.000-08:00

The Grand Futaleufu

We detoured 70 km to the east of the carretera austral to visit the small town of Futaleufu, which some claim to be the adventure capital of the world. We were there to do a little comparative research. We needed to find out how the rapids of the Futaleufu River compared to the rapids of the Cangrejal River in Honduras. So, for the sake of research, we took a rafting trip down the turquoise river that carves its way down a lush green valley. It is hard to beat the rafting on this magnificent river. The rapids curl and beckon up ahead the raft, and in the smooth water in between there are breathtaking views in all directions.
It was a long slow operation getting on the river. There is something about combining rafting and latin american culture that makes things move EXTREMELY slow. By the time we left, the size of the group had doubled and we went in two rafts accompanied by a safety raft and several kayakers (who I believe we playing more than they were worried about our safety). We ended up in the boat with the spanish speakers. Tim and James, a Welsh fellow, climbed up front. All of the native spanish speakers were much more comfortable sitting further back in the raft. Our Chilean guide called out commands in english and spanish....then spanish and english. We might not have been the most coordiated rafters ever, but we made it down the river without anyone swimming....except for when we all agreed to.

2006-02-02T10:52:00.000-08:00

A Private Paradise

After spending many nights in noisy campgrounds with car stereos blaring and partying until all ours of the night, we were quite pleased to settle into our spot at Parque Pumalin, a private park that was our first stop on the carretera austral. We shared the group site with a Canadian woman that was in search of the solitude of nature just as we were. It was a beautiful evening spent checking out the temperate rainforest that seemed impenetrable. We stuck to the trails and enjoyed the sunny skies that shined on us while we were in this zone known for its rainfall. This park was the most well organized park we had visited yet....complete with recycling bins! Although it has caused much trouble that a foreignor came in a purchased all this land, we were quite impressed with what a person with the right aims can accomplish.

2006-02-02T10:41:00.000-08:00

The Carretera Austral

After a sunny ferry ride off the island of Chiloe, we began our trek on the carretera austral--the southernmost continuous road in Chile. Although segments of it are paved, it is primarily a narrow gravel road with little traffic. However, we found that the little traffic was more than we were hoping for as we have spent the last 5 days with a fine film of dust covering everything we have. Our 'impermeable' riding gear does little to hold out the dust. We have found ourselves driving in the lingering dust clouds that coat everything in its path. Aside from the dust, we have found ourselves in the middle of some of the most amazing landscape. While it has been slow going, it gives us more time to enjoy the electric blue streams, the dense vegetation encroaching on the road, the waterfalls and general lack of people. Overall, we have found a general lack of people, but this only means that the travelers are more concentrated in this sparcely habitated region. We have encountered more motorcyclists on this stretch of road than anywhere else on our trip. From a quick trip in a rented vehicle to people that are in the midst of several years of travel, we have met a variety of travelers from different corners of the globe.

2006-01-26T16:52:00.000-08:00

The Panamerican Highway

Although it was not all in one continuous trip, nor have our travels stuck to the highway itself....we stood today at the end point of the Panamerican Highway in the town of Quellon on the island of Chiloe. It was two and a half years ago that this journey really began when Tim and I traveled around Alaska on motorcycle. It was our first motorcycle trip together....or trip for that matter. It was an amazing, but much too short trip, which just wet our appetite for more. So, here we are a few years later, having traveled the span of the Panamerican. The motorcycle has just over 19,000 miles on it from this journey and has weathered the travels nobly thus far. We are a far cry from finished with this journey, and who knows what journeys await us....but it was a significant milestone to stand below the chilean, american, alaskan, anchorage, and quellon flags and remind us how far we have come.

2006-01-26T16:35:00.000-08:00

Life on the Sea

I spent a good portion of the afternoon down by the pier, watching people working on their boats, stocking upon goods in town, and using their tiny rowboats to transport their goods out to their fishing boats anchored out in the harbor. Old men with their pants rolled high, repeatedly waded barefoot on tiptoes through the shallow water to the rowboats to stock them for a trip out to the fishing boats. The small rowboats sat deep in the choppy water as the men fought the wind to row the boat out the short distance. On shore, men were busy repainting and repairing their boats. Extension cords ran across the street...connected to a power source on a building on the far side of the street, they ran some 30m to the boat where the work was being conducted. The cars unknowingly sped across the cords. The seagulls squawked overhead looking for something to feast on, while kids played carefree in the seaweed left by the retreating tide. It was a bright, colorful, busy scene....a typical day for most in a life that is so foreign to us who grew up in the landlocked midwest.

2006-01-26T10:14:00.000-08:00

Oh Let the Sun Shine In

The island of Chiloe is usually hidden beneath a rain cloud, but Tim and I brought the sun. We have had nothing but blue skies since we arrived on the island. We have taken advantage of the weather to explore the islands less than extensive network of roads and the national park. Because of the lack of rain, we have been driving along in a semi-permanent dust cloud.
Perhaps our lack of research is to blame, but we ended up at the main entrance of the national park, finding out that there is currently no camping there. This meant camping nearby in a quaint spot on a lake that is prone to late night parties. We explored in no time the short network of trails that were suggested to us and spent most of our time being windswept on the beach. There was definitely NO swimming for us. Tomorrow morning we will catch a ferry on to Chaiten where we officially begin our trek down the carretera austral....more dust to come.

2006-01-24T11:30:00.000-08:00

Another Face of Chile

Tim and I caught a ferry out to the small island of Chiloe. After coming from the arid zones around Santiago, the island is a lush, forested haven. For the first time since entering Chile, we encountered an area that is more akin to the neighboring countries. Locals out working the fields, cows being herded down the road, people getting around by horseback. It is a slower-paced life here in one of the poorest regions of the country, however the landscape is quite rich. Only 180 km long, the island is dotted with small farms in between the fishing communities. From here, we are headed to the only national park established here on the island for a couple of days of camping along the western coast.

2006-01-24T11:19:00.000-08:00

Backtracking

The next day, we were back on the road and had no reason for emergency stops. We cruised down through Chilean wine country. Vineyard after vineyard filling the lush valleys among the arid hills. We made good time cruising down the highway and as the sun was setting we pulled into Valdivia for the night. This was one of our last stops on our travels with Kit, so Tim and I returned to a friendly hostel that we had stayed at on our last time through. The woman running the place greeted us happily and welcomed us inside. Before we knew it, she was disarming her room to set it up for us for the night. All the rest of the rooms were full and she did not have anywhere else to put us. So, instead of suggesting a place around the corner, she gave up her bed so that we could have a good night´s sleep before continuing our journey. It is that sort of generousity that shows up when you least expect it and makes you realize how many wonderful people there are out there. We slept wonderfully that night and were fed well before we hit the road.

2006-01-24T11:09:00.000-08:00

The Motorcycle Diaries Continue

As if subconsciously wanting to outdo my perforance when we headed south for the first time, Tim had a spectacular showing as we returned to life on two wheels. He awoke with an upset stomach making for many urgent trips to the bathroom. With my gentle urging, we hit the road midday hoping to make some progress heading south. We made it all of an hour down the highway before we made a pitstop at a gas station. After a good two hours of so of sitting (me) and laying (Tim) in the only small corner of shade we could find, I gently urged us again to continue on down the road. My thinking was that we could get Tim to a comfortable bed for him to recover. Another 10 km down the road, we swerve to the shoulder as Tim starts throwing up while trying to maintain control of the bike. We checked into a pricey hotel (the first one we came across), only concerned about getting Tim into a bed and near a bathroom.

The only other excitement to ensue, which we would also like to blame on some tainted food was Tim´s excursion in the middle of the night. I awoke to a noise in the corner of the room. In a hazy moment, I asked Tim what he was doing. 'I´m trying to find the bathroom!' I rolled over and paid no more attention. A few moments later, I was roused a second time as Tim strolls into our hotel room. The next morning, I come to find out that Tim strolled all the way out through the courtyard, down a hallway....and up to the front desk in search of the bathroom....desnudo. Once again, we will blame the food poisoning.

2006-01-20T11:32:00.000-08:00

Where does the Time Go?

It has been 5-6 weeks now that the bike has collected dust while Tim and I caught up with family here and around Santiago and journeying south. Although far from tired of motorcycle travel, it was a welcome break and refreshing change of pace. While Tim and I anticipated things slowing down once we got to Santiago, it seems that the pace almost picked up. Always working under self-imposed deadlines, we have not stopped this whole while trying to see as much as possible.
While in Santiago, we have stayed with Kit´s host family. We were welcomed warmly and have been fed more than any one person could ever conceivably eat. It has been nice to have a home...and a mom...after being away from any sort of home for so many months now.
This break has been full of wonderful new adventures. In some ways, I have found that you are a bit more removed from your surroundings on the motorcycle. By hitching around the south, we met so many amazing people who were so generous, if not eager, to have some company along. It made for entertaining rides and through these rides we learned so much more about the areas that we were visiting than we would have staring through the window of a huge bus. There is also something refreshing about letting go of the reins and waiting for whatever comes your way. In our case, we had nothing but the best of luck and a richer experience for it....and many a good laugh at the songs and games invented while killing time on the side of a long, lonely, dusty road....awaiting a car, any car.

2006-01-20T11:23:00.000-08:00

The Black Beauty

One of the major tasks that Tim was looking forward to upon our return to Santiago was a makeover for the Green Monster. Well, with the aid of a roll of black duct tape....in many ways, Tim´s best friend....the Green Monster is no more. This second leg of our trip will be taking place on the Black Beauty. People usually don´t make it all the way through the book of 1,001 uses for duct tape. Perhaps, motorcycle makeover was #976. So, we are nearly ready to hit the road working our way back south down the careterra austral, a beautiful lonely road cutting down through the lush green Chilean Patagonia, before making our way up into Argentina.

2006-01-20T11:13:00.000-08:00

The Return to Santiago

After our detour to Valdivia, it was a mere overnight busride to Santiago. We rolled in early in the morning and made our way back to Kit´s house (or homestay). The bike was just as we had left her....and Santiago was too, as a matter of fact. The thick, hot, smoggy air was quite the change from the sharp, stinging Patagonia wind. The hustle and bustle of the city swirled around us as we awkwardly climbed onto a city bus with our backpacks bulging. The honking and swerving was a stark change from the long, lonely road we had quickly adjusted to in the south. Once back at the house, we got down to business. Kit found out when his class schedule (already missing the first two days). Tim and I set to work on the bike making small improvements here and there....and struggling to explain the small parts that we were needing, visiting shop after shop. With plenty of charades and long-winded explanations (Tim explains to me what the part is/how it is to be used...and then I in turn try to translate that into Spanish). With lots of little new bolts, connectors, tubing, wiring, and valves, Tim dug into several projects that he has been stewing over in his head for a while.

2006-01-19T12:22:00.000-08:00

Election Day--Round 2

We had lost track of the date, and it was odd how everything was closed (even for a Sunday) in Valdivia, a bright port town. For the second time, we found ourselves wandering around amidst the closed store fronts awaiting the outcome of the Chilean Election. The first time, Jamie, Kit, and I were visiting Valparaiso....and could not even find a market open to buy food for sandwiches. The results from that vote were indecisive because the winner must take more than 50% of the vote. On 15 January after the second round of voting, Chile voted in the first female president in its history. We strolled through the streets of Valdivia listening to boisterous chants and watching makeshift flags wave proudly through the evening air. People gathered in the streets to show their support for the newly elected president: Michelle Bachelet. It was exciting to watch all the activity in the streets of this small city. We were curious how the evening unfolded in Santiago.

2006-01-19T11:54:00.000-08:00

Damp Days Create Hitching Challenge

We easily hitched around the lake making our way to a campsite that we had arbitrarily chosen glancing at a map. Kit had caught a ride with one woman, and a small compact car pulled over about a half hour later to pick up Tim and I. The guy sped along the curving mountain roads as if imagining he was at the wheel of a lamborghini. Coming around one curve, I realized that the fellow on the side of the road with his thumb held high was none other than Kit. When I commented that it was my brother, our friendly driver swerved to the shoulder....and then we had 3 of us crunched into the backseat and the backpacks even more crunched in the trunk. Back to the racetracks...
The three of us were dropped off at the entrance to the campsite, which was several extra kilometers out of their way, but they happily took us there. A beautiful afternoon, we began to set up camp and explore the area. Snow-capped mountains around a beautiful mountain lake. The wind creating whitecaps across the deep blue lake, we enjoyed being away from all the tourists packed in the city. Thoughts were of dinner and a fire for the evening before rain brought a change of plans. Luckily we were in an organized camping site and dinner and drinks were provided at a tiny modest cafe where we were warm and dry and spent the evening playing cards. The boy later took on the rain to whip up some more dinner, while I retreated to our not-so-waterproof tent.
It rained through the night and the next morning, through intermittent rain, we had no other option but to pack things up and hit the road. I think this is the only time in my life that I have been so disgusted to see so many vehicles completely full. I often complain when I see so many people driving alone in their big SUVs in the states. Here all the compact cars were carrying more than their capacity. Our thumbs were of little use as ever car that passed was filled to the brim. AND we were wet....AND our stuff was wet. Finally, a pickup let us crawl into the back and ride the several kilometers to the border. From there we were starting at square one again....3 people trying to hitch. It had been a long day, and we still had quite some distance to cover. Kit and Tim jumped into a compact car after a short wait....their driver was another speed racer. Without a watch, I was uncertain of the time, but it seemed like quite a long time that I was standing out in the cold. All the cars were busting at the seams, and I started to ponder what my options were for the night if I were not to have any luck hitching. My saviors were a family of five, luckily the kids were small. The couple was concerned about me being stranded there alone, so the three kids were moved into the space of two seats and I got the third seat. Next thing I knew the whole family was singing pop songs together and I bopped my head along to the familiar tunes that there was no chance I would be able to sing along to. So, at the end of a very long day of hitch hiking, we met up at our destination....and jumped onto a 2 hour bus arriving in Validivia with sunny skies for our weary souls.

2006-01-19T11:45:00.000-08:00

The 33-hour Time Vacuum

Somehow, without quite realizing how, we lost 30+ hours of our lives on a bus ride carrying us through the desolate windswept Argentine Patagonia. Amazingly, we slept the majority of the ride, and when you awoke the scenery had hardly changed at all, so you really were not missing much. There was a bit of miscommunication when we tried to stay on the bus that we were on instead of switching to another to the same destination. The bus drivers were less than impressed and quickly shooed us over to the other bus minutes before the two departed. Our destination was Bariloche, a Swiss colony in the Lakes District of Patagonia. We used our time wisely in Bariloche, exploring the chocolates that the city is known for, enjoying the beautiful sunny day by the lakeside, and doing laundry. The weather was beautiful and after a day enjoying Bariloche, we decided to continue our good luck hitching and make our way around the beautiful (and gigantic) Nahuel Huapi lake....we were looking for a place to camp for the night along the lake and we were make some progress towards Santiago.

2006-01-11T19:41:00.000-08:00

2006-01-11T18:37:00.000-08:00

Glacier Moreno = Recovery

What better way to rest our bodies than on a viewing platform in front of one of the most active glaciers in the world. We made our way to El Calafate and feasted at a buffet as if we had not eaten for the previous week. After a good night´s sleep in a bed, we awoke like new and joined the hoards of tourists bussing out to catch a glimpse of this awesome glacier. Although not the biggest, nor the tallest in the region….Moreno has the advantage of easy access and a maze of viewing platforms. We were content with this and spent an easy day marvelling at the glacier as it calved causing tidal waves charging out into the icy water filled with huge chunks of ice from previous activity. The face, 60m tall and 5 kilometers across, changed throughout the day as it calved and the newly exposed section shone through intensely blue. The glacier extends up the valley as far as the eye can see disappearing into the clouds on the horizon. It is an amazing phenomenon of nature that we spent the afternoon taking in.

2006-01-11T18:31:00.000-08:00

2006-01-11T18:27:00.000-08:00

The Towers of Pain?!

Our next stop was Torres del Paine. Although horribly overgrown with tourists (as is much of Patagonia), there is a reason that so many people flock to this incredible park with its amazing diversity. Humbling rock formations, glaciers and glacial lakes, meandering streams, and Andean forests offer new views everyday of hiking. A long day of hitching had split us up (no one person self sufficient to pass the night—either lacking food or means to cook food, tent or warm clothing), but sure enough we all met up in the late afternoon with sufficient daylight to hike in to the first campsite situated below the towers after which the park is named. This ascent was a reality check for our trusty motorcycle travellers who have absentmindedly allowed their muscles to atrophy and feet to soften. I had resorted to a step-step-stop rhythm that would degrade into a shuffle-shuffle-stop pace the next day. It is amazing (and disgusting) what sitting on one´s hiney for 4 months can do to one´s physical state.

This would not stop us, only slow us drastically….and make us sleep well at night. For five days, we explored the park…allowing the beautiful scenery to distract us from the self-induced pains. We all enjoyed getting away from civilization for a few days, cooking on a camp stove (savoury, savoury meals—mind you), listening to the crackling of a nearby glacier from our tent, and revelling in the landscape. Kit’s sarcastic observation ‘they really know how to make mountains down here’ summed up our views. So, we hobbled out of the park with blisters and sore feet, happy and content.

2006-01-11T18:11:00.000-08:00

The Warm-Up

We spent a few days camping and hiking in the beautiful Tierra del Fuego National Park outside of Ushuaia. It was good to get out and stretch our legs, if not painful….and this was just the precursor of what was to come. We hiked a trail up to a viewpoint that overlooks Ushuaia and the Beagle Channel, with snow-capped mountains galore. The wind was fierce and cold as we took in the view of the intense waters of the channel, lakes, and rivers below against the stark mountains. This hike just reminded us how out of shape we were as we hiked the steep path 3 hours up to the top of this overlook. More fun in store….

2006-01-11T18:02:00.000-08:00

El Fin del Año en El Fin del Mundo

We made it to Ushuaia with time to spare. The sun did not set on this beautiful southern city until a little before 11pm, so our wait until midnight to bring in the new year was minimal. Not knowing where to head, we found ourselves at midnight standing on the banks of the bay amongst a group of Israelis, Germans, Italians, etc, watching a few flares streak the sky from the boats in the pier. The flares were staggered, beginning a few minutes before midnight and continuing well after. So, there was no culmination or moment of celebration. Random cries of ‘happy new years’ sounded in various languages. Even though lacking the energy or excitement of many celebrations, there was something special about being situated at the ‘southernmost city of the americas’ to start out the new year.

2006-01-11T17:52:00.001-08:00

Hitching with Happy Cup

After a brief day picking up last minute things in Punta Arenas, Chile…the three adventurous travelers made their way to the outskirts of town. We had two days to make it down to Ushuaia to celebrate the new year at the end of the world. Now the boys would like to claim that the fine purchase of 2 cheap bright yellow smiley face cups aided us in getting rides, everyone must admit that their female companion was their key to moving along the road. Being three, it is not easy to convince a car racing out of town that we can pack into a very small space. BUT, somehow we did it time and time again. Down to Ushuaia and back up again, continuing further north in Chile and on to El Calafate, Argentina. From the Italian private tour bus to the Argentine truckers, friendly locals and tourists to our own private bus (that was not currently carrying paying passengers), we have met many friendly and generous folks that have spiced up our trip a bit. Our services were employed when our ride ended up on the shoulder with a flat tire. Another time we were just getting our backpacks out of one truck as we arrived at an intersection. Tim tossed his thumb out to a pickup continuing down the road in the direction we were needing to head. To our surprise, the pickup comes to a sudden halt and we darted down the solitary road to catch our lucky ride that could not have been timed more perfectly. Now with Kit´s classes starting soon, we are changing our pace and opting for the 30+ hour bus that will get us halfway back to Santiago. So, happy cup will be packed up and we will be travelling by bus for the next stint.

2006-01-04T17:41:00.000-08:00

Starting things off on the Right Foot

Kit (my brother), Tim and I made arrangements to fly down to Patagonia with intentions of hitching and bussing our way back up to Santiago. The green monster is getting a break while Tim and I travel by other modes of transport. We ended up with an early flight, which meant waking up even earlier to catch a handful of busses out to the airport. While all of us loathe getting up before the sun is up, we knew it would not be too much of a problem. The 5:30 alarm came much too soon, and I awoke with an upset stomach. I grabbed a quick bite to eat, thinking htat would settle it. The bus rides in, jolting on the worn asphalt of the city roads did not help the matter. The bus out to the airport quickly filled with workers and employees until the majority of the seats were taken. Tim had succumed to sleep in the seat next to me as I stared out the window at the picturesque mountains in the early morning light. Kit leans across the aisle to comment on the scene. 'Aren´t the mountains beautiful?!' My uncontrolled response was a series of violent heaves as my urge to vomit could no longer be suppressed. Tim´s sleep was interupted and with his catlike reflexes was holding his duct-taped hat in front of my face in a matter of seconds. It was a humbling five minutes the remainder of the ride to the airport as I held a baseball cap delicately in my hands, anxiously awaiting the stop so that I could get some fresh air and empty the contents. This was makings of a faulous trip south. We decided it could be nothing but good luck...and if nothing else, always bring a good laugh.

2006-01-04T17:31:00.000-08:00

Santiago--A Whirlwind of Family and Festivities

When Tim and I reached Chile, I caught the dreaded 30 hour bus to Santiago and Tim cruised along comfortably on the motorcycle through the desert of northern Chile. While I enjoyed the excitement of a crunched space and stale food, Tim was enjoying naps alongside the highway, befriending Chileans who almost started a fight over him while enjoying a nice lunch, sharing tea with a french bicyclist, and cruising along at a quick pace himself. In my extra time in Santiago, I caught up with my siblings and a few long overdue insane days ensued. Closely following Tim´s arrival, my parents showed up...and a few days later Tim´s dad arrived. It was hectic and busy, wonderful and a nice change of pace. A warm christmas day was spent up in the mountains just outside of Santiago, the only place where a few snow patches could be found. We spent time exploring the city, enjoying public transportation for a change, and finally having a homebase (staying with my brother´s host family). All of this running around left very little time to plan the next leg of our trip, but perhaps that is just because we are poor planners.

2005-12-17T15:26:00.000-08:00

Race Across the Altiplano

In little more than 24-hours, we made our way into and out of the beautiful country of Bolivia. Driving down along the shores of Lake Titicaca, we would have cruised straight into Bolivia unknowingly if a guard had not waved us down. Quick, easy, and painless, we crossed into Bolivia with the snowcapped mountains off in the distance as we cruised down to La Paz. The first sight of La Paz could take your breath away (if you have any left, as it is nestled at 4,000m). After cruising through slums and developments, you reach a viewpoint high over the city. From this vantage point, you can see the city sprawling to the furthest reaches of the valley and the snow capped mountains are keeping watch over the bustling city below.

Navigating these big cities is never easy, but when Tim discovered we had no rear brakes....that added another challenge on the steep streets. As we are using a guidebook that is 5 years old, the first hostel we tried no longer existed, but luckily we discovered another just around the corner where we were able to deal with the brakes that night.

La Paz has a greater indigenous influence than any of the other south american capitals due to the predominance of indigenous people in the population throughout the country. While a modern city, a large portion of the people roaming the streets are in traditional clothing. Women with long black hair in two perfect braids and a brimmed hat perched high on their heads, layers and layers of skirts and sweaters, and seldom without a bright weaving slung across their back with a child or large load. In the center there were several artisan markets with their stalls further crowding the already crowded streets. Perhaps due to the steep streets or the thin air, we found ourselves wiped out quickly while exploring these markets.

By midafternoon the next day, we had crossed the Bolivian Altiplano to Chile. Full of herds of llamas with bright pompons hanging from their ears (to mark them), we drove across the flat plains towards the volcanoes off in the distance. The sun shined on us and the open road laid straight in front of us as we cruised quickly on. It was most unfortunate that we did not have more time to explore this beautiful country.....next time around, perhaps?

2005-12-17T15:20:00.000-08:00

Falling Behind

There is quite a bit of catching up to do, as I have fallen way behind. As to not exclude any part of our journey, I will attempt to briefly recapture the past week or so beginning with our race through Bolivia down to Santiago where my family all met up for the christmas holidays and Tim´s dad is following close behind (arriving in a few days). As I was in a bit of a hurry to make the most of the time with my family, Tim and I split up in northern Chile. I jumped on a thirty hour bus ride through the desert, while Tim followed along on a much more spacious bike. Several days later, we all reunited and have spent the last several days exploring Santiago and the coast. So, I will try to remember a few accounts from Bolivia and nothern Chile...

2005-12-06T16:34:00.000-08:00

A Land of Contrasts

We are wrapping up travels through Peru on the shores of Lake Titicaca in the busy town of Puno. From the lonesome desert to the populated hills high in the Andes, the lush edges of the Amazon basin to the incredible ruins perched high in the mountains we have encountered an amazing country. The images that are not shown on the tourism posters are the mountains of trash polluting the streams, heading out to the ocean from Lima, or sweeping across the desert. Some of the smells and sights have been overwhelming. Earlier this evening we were strolling the streets of Puno and could not miss the man squatting next to a building (along a busy street, mind you) ripping out a page from his book to wipe his hiney. This was not a homeless man either....more of an emergency situation, perhaps? The contrast from the city to the countryside is greater than we have seen yet. We have encountered incredibly friendly people and many smiling faces. However, we have also seen the poor kids on the streets of Cuzco following the tourists (or the train) around begging for money. I got my boots shined in the plaza of Cuzco and before I knew it, I was mobbed by locals selling their handicrafts. We are definitely the tourists wherever we go and we cannot bridge the cultural void between us. We come from different walks of life, but it is always enjoyable connecting momentarily and exchanging a smile.

2005-12-06T15:36:00.000-08:00

Awash in a Sea of Tourists

Short on time, we did the classic Machu Picchu tour. Expensive and bustling, we felt like cattle being shuffled along....but the experience could not be passed up. We were told it could not be done in such a short timeframe, but somehow we managed to drag ourselves out of bed in the wee hours of the morning to wait in line for train tickets. As we approach the window, we find out that the 'cheaper' train is sold out, so we had to opt for the more plush train. Somehow it costs $3 round trip for the local train and $100 for the tourist train. (Tourists are strictly forbidden from riding the local train. Only those that present a Peru ID card are allowed on). So, after just shy of 4 hours on the train, we follow the masses to the busses to ride up to the ruins. Another $12 for a 30 minute bus ride. The price gouging is phenomenal, but when the demand it there...you get away with it. Even though we walked in with a hodge-podge of international travelers, the first glimpses of the 'lost city' were still breathtaking. The arquitectural masterpieces standing boldly among the steep cliffs of the cloud forest high above the Urubamba river. So, we ventured to corners trying to avoid the tour groups...until we wanted some light shed on a particular feature....at which time, we temporarily joined a tour and listened in. Tim climbed Waynapicchu, the hill towering over the ruins, for a spectacular bird´s eye view of the ruins. We also ventured off on a trail away from the central ruins, which meant solitude and spectacular views of the city off below while the clouds swept in and over the hills. The magical setting cannot even be dampened by all the tourists (up to 1000 a day) that came for the same experience. With more time though, it would have been nice to be there as day breaks on the magnificent stone walls. But, for us, we spent 8 hours getting to and fro the site and about half that time exploring it. There was no shortage of magnificent views from the train ride, so that was part of the experience riding deep into the heart of the Incan empire.

2005-12-06T15:16:00.000-08:00

Breakdown on the Altiplano

Leaving Nasca, we made our way from the desert (with hardly a plant in sight) up to the high plains or altiplano. We followed the requisite curvy mountain roads up to the wide open, wind swept high plain. We had finally reached llamaland and cruised along passing herds of the awkward animals. Things became more interesting when it started raining. Our little problem that we have not had to deal with since Panama has apparently not remedied itself. So, with the wind and rain blasting against us, the green monster begins to sputter and gets to a point where we have absolutely no power...as long as the wiring is wet. Sitting on the side of the road, waiting for the engine to dry out the wiring to tackle another little stretch, a cargo truck pulls to a stop and backs up to where we are stopped. The guy generously offers to give us a ride. 'Y la moto?!', I ask. He insists that there is space and we can take that along too. Thinking there there must be a ramp, we pull the motorcycle up behind the truck. The man proceeds to bend over and give it a mighty tug. Spellbound by how heavy it is, he says it won´t be possible. We thanked him for his offer and continued driving down the road in short spurts. Finally, fed up with our interupted driving, the bike is dismantled on the side of the road, and a fool-proof job is done to waterproof the wires with frozen, nonfunctional fingers. We were fumbling around with the wrenches and bolts trying to disassemble and reassemble in record time. By the time the tank and seat are back in place, the rains were passed and are work was largely unnecessary. As we were working away in the cold, several large busses passed. I commented how comfortable it must be in those big seats on the bus. However, Tim reminded me, 'but do you think they are having any fun?!' That´s right.....we were having FUN.
If only that was the end of the fun, but there was more just up the road. We made a quick pit stop, and when we jumped back on the bike, the old girl didn´t start. So, for the second time, we found ourselves on the side of the road, with motorcycle parts laying all around us. There was much tinkering and testing. We had gas, we had a spark, we had compression....we did not have a running bike. In the end, after much adjusting and checking, the green monster was running but the problem was never diagnosed. That was alright with us though because we were rapidly losing daylight and didn´t feel like camping on the side of the road. So, we road into the next town on fumes and slept in a warm bed. The green monster has yet to let us down.

2005-12-02T16:57:00.000-08:00

Jane Austen and the Nasca Lines

A convenient stop on the side of the highway, we paused to check out the Nasca lines. The 'lines' are huge drawings in the desert created by the Nasca people many centuries ago. The drawings include a monkey, hummingbird, lizard, tree, among many others. A few are visible from a tower at the roadside, but most people get the best views from a short flight over the drawings. We opted for a quick view from the tower where we could see 3 of the drawings. We were accompanied by Bruno, a Peruvian with good english, who explained a bit about the history, meaning, etc. His first reponse to Tim was...¨nice hair¨. He was quite knowledgeable and eagerly shared information with us. Before we knew it, he had begun to read Pride and Prejudice aloud to us (in english) as the three of us stood up on this observation tower in the middle of the desert. He proceeded to explain each paragraph after he read it to ensure that we understood what was going on. His afeminite nature was becoming more and more apparent. We had eaten mangos just before the visit and Tim´s face and beard were orange with mango pulp. Bruno points out that Tim needs to wash his face off. He adds on the end, ¨but you look good anyway...¨ Another group appeared and we saw this as an opportunity to get out of a whole afternoon of Jane Austen readings and journey on down the road. Thanks to Old Bruno, we had a memorable experience viewing the Nasca lines.

2005-12-02T16:49:00.000-08:00

Tornado of Traffic

The most hellacious traffic we have encountered yet came at the end of a long day on the moto. We were arriving in Lima at rush hour and innocently and naively entered the whirlwind of honking taxis, busses coughing up toxic levels of exhaust, and a plethora of relentless drivers. Luckily for us, the Panamerican shoots straight through the city and there are good signs...so there were no navigational challenges like we have encountered in most other cities. There was no concept of lanes or right of way, it was a free-for-all for hundreds of drivers all thinking that they were top priority. We accepted that we were low on the totem pole and got through the gauntlet unscathed.

2005-12-02T16:41:00.000-08:00

Blessed Pavement

When we reached Cajamarca, we returned to the sweet smooth substrate of asphalt. Although we had sought out the gravel and dirt roads, after many days of jarring and sliding....pavement was a more than welcome change of pace. So, we made our way out to the Panamerican highway and the desert of the western coast. The drive south has been monotonous at best. The desert can be beautiful, but along with sand dunes, you encounter trash dunes. Instead of dust clouds we have returned to exhaust clouds. The pavement comes at a cost, but it makes it easier to cover ground, flying south through the repetitive scenery, with occasional glimpses at the ocean. If you were to veer off the highway, surely you would encounter some incredible sites, but we will save those for another time.

2005-11-30T17:36:00.000-08:00

Country Life

Rich images filled our drive across the mountains. Entering many communities, we were greated by families sitting on the front stoop, seemingly watching life pass by. We were definitely a shift from the normal activity that passed along that road. Women busy weaving or spinning yarn, people out milking the cows, and men plowing fields with a pair of oxen. The entire drive we were driving through sparcely inhabited areas, so there was much activity to take in. It is an impressive spectrum from the slow pace of life to the intensity of the work high in these hills. The lazy gringos just ride on through taking it all in....making the green monster do all the hard work.

2005-11-30T17:26:00.000-08:00

Another One Bites the Dust

So we found out the hard way that two was one too many on the bike...given the road conditions through northern Peru. Given the steep climbs and the heavy weight on the back of the bike (more than just me!), our front tire had trouble gripping the loose gravel. So, for a second time we took a grand tumble. We found ourselves lying on the ground. Tim, in a daze, thought....´where´s meaghan?´ And all I could muster was....´Tim....please get off me. We had flown off together and were lying in the middle of the lonely road Tim on top of me. This fall stung a bit more than the last. We shook off the daze and got the bike up and off the road. We ended up staying there for the night. No reason to jump back on the green monster at that point and it was getting late anyway. Luckily we had a nice flat(ish) spot just off the road, kind of hidden from view. In light of all that had happened, we actually spent one of the most beautiful nights. We were perched high above this valley with the rounded peaks of the Andes surrounding us. We passed our time around a modest little fire watching the stars appear. The sunrise the next morning was spectacular and surreal. The vague outline of the curving route we had traveled up through the valley was barely visible and the bluish hue of the mountains accented a colorful serene sky. With an early start, we carried on (slowly) down the road.

2005-11-30T13:41:00.001-08:00

The Dust Devils

For the past several days, we took the road less traveled and journeyed from the eastern edges of the Andes through several passes to the dry barren desert on the western edge of the mountain range. We started out traveling along rivers on the farthest reaches of the Amazon Basin. The waters would travel all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. The narrow winding dusty road carried us along rivers, past rice fields, up through patchwork mountainsides, along steep precipices, through high passes and to the depths of hot, steamy valleys. It was a trying route with the two of us on the green monster. The steep ascents and descents were challenging given the load....and there was the ever present dust. The route would not have been possible for us if it had been raining, so it was a streak of luck that we had te right weather to tackle it. Not more than two weeks ago it was raining constantly and the road was a muddy mess (thus explaining the deep ruts we encountered). Our black riding gear, was more of a dull gray by the end of each day. Our faces and hands were constantly filthy. BUT, we saw more livestock than vehicles. We went for a five hour stretch in which we passed only three vehicles. We passed through village after village sprawled out on the hillside. The adobe brick houses camoflaged with the landscape. We left the tourists behind and traveled through villages oblivious to the world outside. We were greeted with waves and toothless smiles, along with other reactions of reservation and women that pulled their children away from us. Granted, we look like space aliens in our riding gear. I would pull my child away too. It was a beautiful journey through the Andes that left us exhausted and refreshed all at the same time.

2005-11-30T13:41:00.000-08:00

¡Apaga la Luz!

Upon entering Peru, we have been battered by people shouting `apaga la luz´....turn off your light! If they don´t say anything, they either flash their lights at us or make hand gestures that our light is on. As we fly past them, it is impossible to explain that we CANNOT turn it off. The light on the motorcycle turns on as soon as the key is in the ON position. Tim has been tempted to futz with the wiring so as to avoid the constant helpful comments. The mentality must be that we are wasting the light when driving around with it on during the daytime. They certainly would not understand that it is a safety feature that the light is always on while the motorcycle is running. So, we continue to nod, smile, wave, or flash our light back as the gestures continue incessantly. Everyone is so concerned that we are driving around with our light on.

2005-11-26T16:16:00.000-08:00

Sleepy Border Stations

We crossed into Peru at the least used border crossing. Although we heard stories of people racing right through this border, we did the requisite waiting. We were quickly stamped out of Ecuador, but the person we needed to enter Peru was not around. So, we did a bit of waiting, which was not surprising or out of the ordinary. When he appeared, it looked as if he had just gone home to take a shower. We asked no questions, and were stamped into Peru. The next step is getting the bike in. It was a very simple process, however, our customs officer must have wanted to exert that air of authority because he maticulously scrutinized our bike. It must have taken 30 minutes to an hour to fill out paperwork that Tim or I could have done in 10 minutes. All we could do was patiently wait for him to flip yet again through the paperwork to find some information that he had already written on 3 other sheets. The waiting was nice though because it got us off the bike for a while to stretch our legs before venturing another 2 hours on dirt roads to finally arrive at our destination.

2005-11-26T16:12:00.000-08:00

The Green Monster Takes Us for a Ride

Perhaps she was tired. Perhaps she had had too much of those narrow dirt roads. Was it all the weight that we had burdened her with?! It is hard to say, but in a whirlwind of a moment we found ourselves lying on the ground next to a horizontal moto. The nice thing about dirt roads is that you can never go TOO fast, so then when you find yourself off the motorcycle....you have not hit TOO hard. We dusted off, Tim took the green monster for a spin to make sure everything was in order and we loaded back up for many more miles of dirt road.

2005-11-26T16:02:00.000-08:00

Hazy Days

We started our day early, an unprecidented 7:30am. We had miles of dirt road to cross before we could rest our weary heads. Starting high in the mountains, the soft early morning light shone down on the hills that stood layered in front of us. The hills we were to traverse. Our route took us through a reserve that was the only large intact stand of forest that we saw throughout the day. The rest of the forest was bisected by open land for grazing and crops. As if this was not enough, there was constantly plumes of smoke on the horizon wherever we looked, as people were busy clearing new plots of land. The smoke coupled with the clouds of dust from the dirt road made for a permanent haze, but the views were still wonderful. It was always particularly fun passing cargo trucks or tourism busses. We would momentarily disappear into a cloud of dust, usually pausing at the side of the road until we regained some sort of visibility. We went from rather high elevation down to the steamy lowlands where we crossed into Peru. Tim had his long johns on under all of his gear because it had started out quite cool. He was baking by the end of the day.

2005-11-24T16:48:00.000-08:00

Valley of Longevity

On our last stint through Ecuador, we wound our way south to Vilcabamba, made famous by the longevity of its inhabitants. We are hoping that during our brief stint here we can prolong our time here on this planet. The town itself it situated in this fertile, lush valley. We pulled into town with no plan (as usual) and this guy approached us in the center suggesting a place to stay. Taking his suggestion, we have ended up at this hostel that is complete with pool, jacuzzi, sauna, turkish bath, bar, etc, etc and a view overlooking the entire valley from the roof. If nothing else, a night relaxing here might just be the key. Tomorrow, on to Peru.

2005-11-24T16:35:00.000-08:00

Motodogging

During some internet 'research', Tim came across this guys website that outlines the rules motodogging, this game he invented. The grand inventor of this game defines it as: Motodogging is the art of making them chase you until they're completely exhausted, helping the brainless creatures learn to leave us alone. You can check it out at: http://www.smellybiker.com/cgi-bin/motodogging/show.cgi

Well, I think as a passenger, I must say that I am not a big fan of this game. Inexplicably, the dogs are suddenly much more aggressive here in South America than the ones we came across throughout Central America. Perhaps it is because they have more meat on their bones, I cannot say. The way it works is when a dog comes tearing out after the green monster, Tim slows to keep the dog tagging along with us. This usually equates to a dog with its teeth bared and barking wildly even with my calf. Crammed in on the back of the motorcycle, I just have to hope that if push comes to shove that my boot nails the dog in the right place. I think the game is a bit more fun when YOUR hand is on the throttle.

2005-11-23T17:29:00.000-08:00

Another Colonial Town

Tim commented that he might have seen enough colonial towns. They are quite the tourist trap and we have been hitting them all on our way down....so what is one more? Regardless, we made our way to Cuenca for yet another colonial experience. Setting it apart from many of the others, Cuenca has a beautiful river cutting right down past the historic district. The local women are often found down in the river washing the clothes before stretching them out across the green grass to dry. Full of the requisite churches and cathedral, Cuenca is also full of wonderful museums and a arquealogical site of Incan ruins in the middle of the city. A day was spent exploring all of this, and getting the bike ready for the rough dirt roads that we will potentially wander off on in Peru.

2005-11-23T17:23:00.000-08:00

The Perks of a Volcano

When you establish a town at the base of a volcano, there are serious dangers that you are dealing with....however, there are also added benefits. One of which are the hot springs. So, we ventured down to the touristy town of Banos. Many inhabitants of Quito make this a weekend destination. We arrived late in the evening, so it was not until the next morning that we were able to lounge in the warm baths with all the locals before climbing back onto the green monster to continue down the road. All the locals seemed to be starting out their day with exercizes, swimming laps in the pools, and relaxing before setting off to the tasks of the day. If it refreshes them as much as we felt refreshed climbing on the bike, then a hot spring is definitely an asset making for a healthy town.

2005-11-23T17:15:00.000-08:00

Land of Volcanoes

The most striking difference in the landscape as we entered Ecuador was the copious volcanoes dotting the horizon. The view out of our hotel the first morning in Ecuador was just a foreshadowing of what was to come. The landscape was a sea of undulating patchwork mountainsides punctuated by the occasional volcano. Perhaps even more striking was the cultural/ethnic transition. We go from a largely hispanic population in Colombia to a predominantly indigenous population in Ecuador. The transition was quite dramatic as we crossed the border. Suddenly, the bright shawls of the women dotted the farmlands as they tilled the dirt or herded their handful of cattle or sheep. The lifestyle had suddenly shifted, as had the climate and landscape. Traveling by road is impressive because you experience every subtle shift, whether cultural or geographical. Cruising through Ecuador, we are entering the more stereotypical Andean highlands that one might imagine.

2005-11-23T17:08:00.000-08:00

Border Crossings--South America Style

After just getting used to the mob at the central american border crossings, we have moved on to a new continent. We cannot complain that our first crossing in South America was without cost AND without caos....well, almost. We arrived around four in the afternoon, which we felt was plenty of time to get us and the bike through. We waited in line for quite some time to get ourselves through, simply because they only had one man trying to process everyone coming through. The problem was that the person that was necessary to fill out the appropriate paperwork to get the bike through was not present. The customs boys told us they would try to find this mysterious person, but as six in the evening was approaching and the sun was setting, there was still no sign of the one person that we needed to get through the border. Our problem was that we had already exported the bike (and ourselves) from Colombia. We joked that we might be camping there for the night, but in the back of our heads we were preparing for just that. Then, the boss shows up and takes us through the paperwork himself. He was coming from celebrations at the next town where the president was in for the anniversary of the town. We had managed to hit yet another holiday, but it did not matter because right at the last minute, the head honcho had appeared to smoothly get us through the border and on our way.

2005-11-23T16:50:00.000-08:00

Colombian Andes

Our whole journey south from Bogota was quite incredible, even though we were sticking to the Panamerican. However, it was not until we drove the last stretch from Popoyan to the Ecuadorian border, that we were absolutely awestruck by the countryside. While we did pass through several small villages, much of the landscape was free of the any sort of evidence of human presence until we neared the border of Ecuador. From sheer mountainsides, to steep gorges and then the arid lowlands, we felt like we were seeing it all....from the major highway cutting through the country. Our drive was slow with all the curves weaving in and out of valleys, but also the photo stops added some time to our drive. You just could not pass up oportunities coming around a corner with a breathtaking explanisive view in front of you to pause and take it all in. So, we slowly ventured along trying to absorb the views that surprised us around every corner.

2005-11-20T19:20:00.000-08:00

The Black Sheep of South America

We quickly discovered as we ventured out of the city, all that Colombia had to offer. We really did not venture off the panamerican highway, but the views from the highway were spellbounding and kept us in awe throuout nearly our whole journey from Bogota to the border with Ecuador. Colombia does indeed have a bad wrap, thanks to the media and governments. However, we encountered an amazing country and were received better there than we had in any other country that we have visited. Not only were we received well, but Colombians were very concerned about our perception of their country and how we had been treated during our visit. From the taxi driver to the military guard to random people on the street, everyone was anxious to talk to us and hear about our experience in their country. Their pride was very sincere, not based on power or sentiments of superiority, but pride in the riches that their country has to offer....but often overlooked. They recognized the unfair reputation placed upon them and their country that they are trying to disprove. In our eyes, they more than disproved this image that the media has exploited. We are not denying lingering problems exist within this country´s boundaries, but this was far from our eyes and minds while traveling through. We only stopped at two of the many military checkpoints set up along the highway. The young guys were more interested in our travels than scrutinizing our documents. At one point I had a group of four guys (with their M-16´s slung over their shoulders) standing around chatting with me about our journeys, while one guy begrudgingly had Tim show all the motorcycle documents. He was trying to listen in to our conversation, yet maintain an air of authority. The next stop, the guys did not even ask for any documents, but just chatted with us about our travels. Up until now, many travelers we had crossed paths with told us that Colombians were the nicest people in latin america....we thought this was a broad generalization, until we ventured into the country...

2005-11-16T13:54:00.000-08:00

How Does the Transvestite Slip One´s Mind?!

One of the stellar stories of our travels has conveniently avoided the blog. How could I forget to recount the story of Tim´s encounter with the transvestite? We have to jump back to Central America here. While we were staying in San Jose, our hostel was located near a corner where we had previously spotted a few scantily clad transvestites hanging out shortly after dark. One evening Tim was on his way back to the hostel, and his route took him past this very corner (hard to avoid since it is RIGHT next to the hostel). As he was strolling past, one guy started strolling up to him. Tim continues to walk on not paying him any attention. No matter, the guy takes the libery of grabbing Tim´s crotch, and as Tim shoves the guy off, he turns to run down the street. As the guy is disappearing, Tim quickly checks his pockets and sure enough, the distraction had worked. The transvestite was off with Tim´s change purse. Luckily the wallet was in the other front pocket, so the guy had not successfully gotten what he was after. This has been our only incident thus far, and it proved to be quite harmless fortunately.

2005-11-16T12:30:00.000-08:00

Just the Three of Us

The green monster returned to our safety today. After reading horror stories of Colombian customs (and some good ones too), we did not know what to expect picking the bike up today. After a quick call this morning to confirm that it had arrived here in Bogota, we caught a taxi out to the airport. The whole process took about 4 hours, and a bit of walking (crossing a busy highway a handful of times) to and from the customs office, but was a cakewalk. About 3 hours were spent waiting and less than an hour spent filling out paperwork and darting between the offices. We dealt with some of the friendliest people who could not have made the process much easier. When the battery had been reconnected, a small amount of gas added to the tank, and the mirrors replaced, Tim got to maneuver the bike through the company´s office and down the stairs (only 5) while all the workers stood around and watched. We stand out a bit driving down the road, as all other motorcyclists wear bright orange vests with a registration number on it...and the fact that the green monster is easily 2-3 times the size of all the other motorcycles cruising the streets (as has been the case throughout the trip). So, now after a week in Bogota, we will be setting off tomorrow to explore the real beauty of Colombia.

2005-11-16T12:14:00.000-08:00

Mexico and Central America in a Nutshell

Somehow two months quickly disappeared while we zigzagged across the countryside of the narrow little strip of land that connects the United States and South America. It was full of adventure and everyday brought some new excitement that would be impossible to predict in advance. The constants were beautiful diverse landscapes, friendly and warm people, and unknown road conditions. However, the roads (at least main roads) and the border crossings turned out to be better/easier than the descriptions we had heard and read. The landscape, especially when we ventured further down the dirt roads, cannot be adequately described in words. The simplicity of life that we witnessed in the small villages and up in the highlands was enough to make you pause and consider your lifestyle. At times it appeared we had more crammed on the bike than they did in their modest homes. And then there was the adventure...the whitewater rafting, the bungee jumping, and the scuba diving...in which we more than played the tourist role, but took advantage of the beautiful places where we were.

Now we set out to traverse the western coast of South America (to Santiago de Chile) in one months time for a grand reunion with family for the holidays....and then on to Patagonia.

2005-11-15T12:52:00.000-08:00

The Route

2005-11-15T09:47:00.000-08:00

Exploring Bogota

With time on our hands and no bike, we have been free to explore the city in a rather carefree nature. Usually there is a bit of concern about where to keep the bike, etc. We can generally count on an afternoon (or perhaps even early morning...) thunderstorm, complete with violent crashes of thunder that set off car alarms and monsoonlike rainfall. It is best if you are caught in these conditions when you are close to an internet cafe or coffeeshop that you can quickly disappear into until the rain passes by.
We wound up staying in the historic center, which puts us a short walking distance from all the museums, cathedrals and churches, and quaint streets beckoning you to walk them. Seeing as though we were here for a holiday weekend, there were few stores open, but all the tourist sites were in full swing. We have explored the gold museum along with a handful of art museums and collections. A church towering high over the city offers excellent views of the immense city from the hillside. A funicular ride beats walking up the steep hillside to take in the views. The city disappeared into the haze in the distance (miraculously we caught a sunny moment on top of the hillside). We have settled in quite quickly to this capital city, however, we do have the itch to get back on the road....knowing we have miles to go before we sleep.

2005-11-14T10:45:00.000-08:00

Crossing the Darien

Other than a select few crazy people who attempt it by land, the only plausible options for getting around this stretch of roadless land between Panama and Colombia is by boat or plane. Because we did not have ample time on our hands to cruise down to Colombia on a sailboat, we opted to ship the motorcycle with aircargo, and climb on another plane ourselves. We would be shipping the bike to Bogota, where we would rejoin the Panamerican Highway and continue our journey south. As was our luck, we arrived in Panama City on a national holiday, so many of the usual services around the city were not available. We opted to drive out to the airport and investigate our shipping options. We were greeted at Girag (the cargo company) by Jorge who quickly quoted us the cost and told us that all we needed to do was drop the bike off the next day and drain the fuel and disconnect the battery. Simple enough, so we bought tickets for our own flights to Bogota for the following evening and returned the next day to the shipping docks to deliver the bike. As the holiday had passed, the docks were abuzz with people, boxes, and forklifts. I wandered into the office and was promptly told that there was no space on the flight that day. We would have to return on Monday or Tuesday (this was Friday). Seeing as though we already had tickets in our pockets for our own flight that we did not want to lose, we investigated at least leaving the bike there until Monday or Tuesday. Jorge, our go-to man, was conveniently out to lunch. There was much waiting and the four hour window before our flight was slowly disappearing. Finally, we got the okay to leave the bike, but nothing starting moving ahead with the processing of papers, etc. When Jorge did eventually return from lunch, the ball got rolling. We weighed the bike, filled out the appropriate paperwork, and handed over a large sum of cash. We just had one last stop to make at the customs office to get a stamp showing that the bike was leaving Panama. Unfortunately, this was not an easy stop because it was not in the building that they directed us to and no one seemed to know where we needed to go. When we did find the office, it was just closing. The guy behind me had to offer a bribe to get them to process some paperwork of his. The customs office was not sure what they needed to do with the paperwork and it took quite a bit of banter to agree on what to do with it. Taking a taxi from the cargo airport to the main terminal (about 10 km apart), we made it to the airport just in time to catch our flight.
A nice, long weekend in Bogota passes. I say ´long´ weekend because Monday was a national holiday here in Colombia. We have been quite successful dropping in in time for the celebrations. First thing today, we called the Colombian Girag office to find out that they did not have our bike. A call to Jorge confirmed that the bike was still sitting in the warehouse. A verbal promise was made that our bike will be awaiting us at the airport here in Bogota tomorrow morning.....and then we have customs to wade through.