These are emails from my first trip around
South America, April- July 2003
Basically, I rode a dirtbike (Honda XR650L) from Buenos Aires, Argentina
north to Brazil, up the coast to Belem, then up the Amazon River on a boat,
south on the Rio Madera by boat to Porto Vehlo where we flew into a remote
Indian tribe with missionaries, then rode further south to Bolivia where we
spent some time in the jungle, then up the world's most dangerous road to La
Paz, then north into the Peruvian Andes where we did some climbing, then north
to Ecuador.
They are raw emails so the grammar/spelling aren't perfect.
Enjoy
The eagle has landed
Well, I'm safe in Buenos Aires. Been here about 4 hours now. Very nice city. Not
nearly the culture shock of Lima, Peru. Argentina seems to be kind of like Peru
Lite to me so far. They searched my saddle bags at customs but no problems. Much
better than the 1st time in Peru. Much less yelling, running, and chasing by the
cops... Looks like my motorcycle is in transit from the dock to storage area
where I will pick it up. If all goes as they said, I should have it on Thursday.
Then north to meet ed and matt somewhere in Brazil. where are you guys these
days? The delay on the bike gives me time to see the city,
The menace is loose again
Well, I finally got my bike today. The Great White Pig lives! It should have
been ready yesterday but it wasn't. Went back to the first customs place, where
the guy was extremely helpful and understanding of my lack of Spanish.
Yesterday, that whole crew was laughing and joking and having a good time.
Today, he called a cab for me and came out to tell the driver where to take me.
When I got to the warehouse where it was stored, the place did look a bit
sketchy, as Matt had warned me. Turned out to be an OK blue collar type place.
It got there about 45 minutes before their lunch break and they showed me the
box it was in and asked me to return after lunch. I got them to let me work on
putting it back together until lunch. A very friendly young man named Daniel
helped me work on it. AT lunch time they kicked us out and Daniel and I went
down to the corner and got sandwiches. The whole crew and I passed around a
2.25liter bottle of coke. Some passed a box-O-wine. Had a lot of fun with them
laughing and joking and whistling at the passing chicas. After lunch I finished
the assembly and went thru the paperwork which took forever, but I never paid a
dime despite taking up many man-hours at both agencies. (Matt, what did you pay
for?) Everybody was very helpful and wished me buena suerte and bien viaje, etc.
I don't think I would have gotten such a good experience in USA. Paperwork done,
I took off down the street at full throttle doing wheelies over all the little
bumps, having less than half a clue as to where I was or where I needed to go.
But I am smarter than the average bear. Before I left the hotel, I marked it on
the GPS. I stopped, mounted it, and told it to find the hotel. It marked out a
path straight to it! Then the fun started. Riding in 3rd world traffic is
another experience. There are lines on the road, but they are just a loose
suggestion. You can go anywhere you fit, as fast as you like. Just when I
thought I was getting the hang of it, I would get passed by someone on a moped.
This is like racing enduro, except the trees are moving! Big fun!! Big stupid
fun!!! Had I been riding like that in USA, I would have been arrested 10 times.
Still don't have the huevos of the locals yet. Matt and Eds amigo Maxi put a
nice windscreen on it for US$20 and its locked up in his shop tonight. I head
north first thing in the morning after some nightlife. Hopefully, Ill see
Silvina again... On a bad note, the war is all over every headline and TV here.
There is no mention of the reasons the US is there, only how wrong it is. No
wonder the world hates us, but at least they can still se us as individuals.
Before the trip, I vowed to paint myself and my country in the best light
possible at all times, and I think that is going well.
2nd day on road Just a quick message-
I need to get some comida in my belly then sleep. I left BA around 10:00Am
yesterday. As I was loading the bike for the 1st time, it fell over, also for
the 1st time. The extra weight makes the kickstand too long! The cute girl
working at the hotel was watching, of course. Good roads so far but the
navigation is tough. I ended up further west last night than I wanted, pulling
into the town of Parana at nightfall. My record of getting into some trouble
with the law in every country still stands. Got a friendly warning for passing a
car in the tunnel under the Parana river. Had to get out though, the fumes were
terrible! Busted out almost 500 miles today on mostly good roads. No navigation
problems. I'm in Pasados, close to Iguasu Falls, the second biggest in the
world. Feeling a bit lonely and wanting to catch up to my friends but it will be
a couple of weeks, at best. I rode my ass of for 2 days straight and barely made
a dent in the map! Also a bit worried about Brazil and not speaking the
language. I cross the border tomorrow. I'm still amazed at how nice the Argentineans
are.
Attitude Adjustment
Last night, I pulled into town tired and a bit lonely and worried about the
trip. I wasn't having fun. Right after I sent the email, I met a couple from
Buenos Aires on a BMW K1200 (the only bike in town getting more attention than
mine). They spoke some English and were headed to Iguasu Falls also. So I rode
with them today. Turns out they were taking the scenic route. Not good for my
timing but very good for my attitude. Got to do some really nice riding thru beautiful
country and it reminded me that I should be enjoying the trip. The bike
protested from trying to keep up by sucking down the gas (I almost ran out) and
oil (burned/spit .5 quart). Finally crossed the Brazil border. No problems at
all. They stamped my passport on the Argentine side and asked about my clear gas
tank (they ALL ask about the tank). On the Brazil side, the man said something I
couldn't understand, I gave him a stupid look, and he waved me through. Got here
too late to see the falls (I will in the manana), but I'm staying at what is
perhaps the nicest youth hostel in the world. Right after I set up my tent and
grabbed a $0.50 beer, I jumped in the pool, had a few more beers, played some
soccer, (not too badly for a NORTH American) and filled my belly. Lots of
English speakers here, too. Feeling much better now.
Many Miles, Much Adventure
Its been a while since I had a working email connection. The first day out of
Iguazu falls was the first day the weather wasn't perfect. In fact, it sucked.
Cold rain the whole day. But, I finally got to ride some dirt roads. A lot of
fun till the hard red clay got more slick than an ice rink and the front end
went out from under me. Down I went for a 50 foot head first slider. Loaded and
fueled, the Great White Pig weighs around 480 lbs and it was ALL I could do to
stand him up again. Several bent parts- the pig does not crash well. I got going
again then stopped to straighten the shift lever. Then it refused to start. Got
the tools out as the lightning got closer and closer, still pissing down rain.
Turns out, the RUN button was off. DOH! Made it into town then it started dying
on me! It felt and smelled really rich. Would not run at an intersection, again,
as the lightening got closer... I finally nursed it under a roof in front of a
tire store and tore into it. When I pulled off the left side cover that
comprises one side of the airbox, about a quart of muddy water gushed onto my
boot! Apparently, in the crash, the side cover scooped a bunch of mud into the
airbox and plugged the drain at the bottom. The airbox then filled with water. I
think the filter stopped all the water and mud from going thru the engine.... I
also lost one of my shoes and both my spare inner tubes that day- that just fell
off somewhere. That's why they call it an adventure. The last 2 days, I have
been putting in the miles- 480 the day before last. Yesterday, through sheer
force of will, I made 580 miles, including a jaunt thru Rio (not nearly worth
the large effort). About 400 miles were on twisty 2 lane road with beautiful
scenery. The last 100 were in the dark with occasional light rain. Great White
may not yank my arms off like my other bikes, but yesterday, I passed about 300
trucks (NOT an exaggeration) on the 2 lane road and he always got the job done
in the left lane (or on the shoulder, as I've become fond of doing). Need to
change the oil and buy some shoes before I leave Vitoria this morning. I'm
getting close to my friends. it will be good as I am not catching on to
Portuguese at all.
Hell or High Water
I'm still trying to catch up to my friends who left 1.5 months ahead of me. I
have been hammering out the miles (about 4000 so far). I think this will qualify
me for an Iron Butt award (for those of you who don't know, that's a real award,
not a joke). Last email I had said they were going to Recife, on the coast of
Brazil. I figured I could make it in 2 400 mile days and planned accordingly. A
very early start put me in Downtown Recife at about 4:30, looking for an
internet cafe to see where they were. Turns out Recife is about the worst place
I have ever been, and I lived in Detroit for over 7 years! Most Brazilians are intelligent,
well educated people, but not in Recife. When I asked where to find internet, I
got nothing but blank stares. My Portuguese sucks, but its the same word! I
pulled into a Honda dealership, parked and asked again. After being sent on many
wild goose chases on foot I returned sweaty, tired, and frustrated. Then the
first guy said something like, Oh Yea, we have it here. I checked my email only
to find that they were not in Recife, but in Pipa or Natal. I hated Recife
already, and was bound to catch them, come Hell or High Water, so I set out
North again. I asked at the Honda dealership how to get back to the main road
which I pointed to on my very good map. I got the same type response I got when
showing a map to people in the mountains of Peru who I am very sure had never
seen a map in their lives. Eventually, the one English speaker told me to take
Avinida Norte and that would work. Trouble is, there is not one street sign in
the whole city! Also, EVERY street was absolutely grid locked (at about 6:30PM)
Not even my best 3rd world tactics could get thru, so I found a bar and had a couple
of beers while the traffic dissipated. I again asked where the main road was (it
was about 2 miles away) and again, totally clueless. Back out. With the GPS, I
know roughly where I need to be and which direction to go at all times. But the
bastards just would not let me leave the hellish city. Every street turned me
back to downtown. It was the most frustrating thing I've ever done. Finally, I
lucked onto Av. Norte. I only knew this because of Hotel Av. Norte- no street
signs, remember? This eventually led to BR101, my road north. The road curved
parallel to 101 and looked like it would merge. After about 2 miles, it
dead-ended with not a single entrance ramp. Well Fuck You, Recife- that's what
dirt bikes are for. 3 hours on BR101 led me to my turnoff. Actually, I should
have taken the next turnoff. This one led to a small town just south of Pipa. At
12:30 at night, the only one around was a kid on a bike who I was sure was the
official village idiot. He eventually led me down small path to his house. His
older brother who was sleeping on the porch jumped up and pointed to a ferry
boat made from rough-hewn wood, large enough to carry a full size pickup truck.
I was bound to find them Hell or high water so I got on the ferry and he poled
it skillfully to the other side of the inlet and pointed to a dirt road. The
moon was full, the stars were out, and it was such a nice change from the noise
and toil of the bike. About 4 miles of fun riding on the bumpy, sandy road led
me, at last to Pipa. I started riding up and down the small winding streets
looking for my friends or their bikes. As I passed one bar, a small attractive
Brazilian woman ran out and started yelling at me. All I understood was
something about cold drinks and relax. I jumped off the bike and did just that.
A life-of-the-party type, she invited the next 50 or so passers by up also.
After a few more beers, I was invited to a Luau on the beach. A full moon, palm
trees, crashing surf, dancing in the sand- that trumps hell or high water any
day. Still haven't found them...
Reunited
Just after I sent the hell or high water email, Matt walked into the internet
cafe. The 4000+ mile chase is over! The 4 of us, (Matt and Ed from Colorado,
Flavio from Buenos Aires, and me) rode up to Natal, a fairly large beach town.
Just 50 miles- my butt needs the rest! Tomorrow, we will service the bikes at
Flavios friends Honda shop then spend some time on the beach. Next stop,
Fortaleza, home of the 2003 International Six Days Enduro, and some hardcore off
road riding. The all-pavement portion is just about over. We will ride 1000
miles to the mouth of the Amazon, then head up by boat. Then on to Bolivia via
dirt roads. Then mixed pavement/dirt thru Peru and Ecuador. A quick check of a
world map shows that we are now closer to Africa than home or the west coast of
South America, which we will go to via boat/roads/trails.
Commercials
The night before last, we stayed at the home of Jose, who is the manager of a
Honda shop in Natal, Brazil. A very interesting guy, he grew up in Mozambique,
Africa. His parents were kicked off the tobacco farm they had for years and he
moved to Brazil. His apartment is about 100 yards from the beach and last night,
we went to a meeting for his motorcycle club. Coming up from Pipa the other day,
we looked like a rolling Honda commercial with me on an XR650, Matt and Ed both
on XR600s and Flavio on a Honda Africa Twin. We took the bikes to Jose´s shop
for some much needed maintenance. While the mechanics worked, we went to the
beach. It was just like a Corona commercial. We sat on little chairs under an
umbrella sipping cold Cabrizzas ( local drink with lime juice, sugar and
liquor). Want another? raise your hand and another $0.30 drink is there. Hungry?
Wave at the girl, and she brings more delicious meat-on-a-stick, for another
$0.30. Very relaxing, but I got a little sunburned. Today, we are heading to
another small resort town like Pipa. Its a big holiday weekend coming. Should be
fun. Much more relaxed pace for me now.
B's
Brazil.
Blazing sun.
Beaches.
Babes.
Bikinis.
Bars.
Beer.
Blasting down the Beach at 80 mph wearing nothing but shorts and flip-flop
sandals.
Be alert, look ahead, keep the front end light and the throttle nailed.
Because crashing now would Be like laying down naked on a Belt sander.
All for now.
In Forteleza
We just got to Forteleza, the home of the 2003 International Six Days Enduro
(ISDE). Having a bit of a time getting info on just where exactly those trails
are, as we are wanting to ride them. I just bought a new rear tire (A giant Pirelli,
but the last of its kind) Matt needs a new rear too but cant find the right one
for the job. We were hoping to go sailing with a Frenchman we met yesterday who
has 2 Hobie Cats, but it sort of fell through. After a few days here, we will
head to Belem, the mouth of the Amazon about 1000 miles further northwest, then
3 weeks on a boat into the jungle.
Rock stars, the Brazilian slalom, big water and a flashing of
knives
We were unable to locate the exact trails in Fortelza that the ISDE will be run
on and we are a bit pressed for time to get into Peru so we left for Belem
without getting to ride the trails. We made a bit of a side trip to a national
park where we went into the hottest cave I've ever been in. Lots of cool rock
formations above ground too. We decided to take a shortcut over dirt roads on
the way to Belem. The road was muddy in spots , bumpy everywhere and a lot of
fun. We were riding through one tiny village after another dodging all manner of
animals the whole way. I actually failed to dodge a chicken once, but I want to
write that up later with a bit more flair. I had a few problems near the end
(more on that later too) and had to catch up to matt and ed. I found them
drinking cold beer on the outskirts of a small village just as it was getting
dark. I stopped, took of my hot clothes and grabbed a beer. The crowd was just
starting to form. They gathered around us in a semicircle, not speaking, just
staring. About 20 at first, then 50, then maybe 100 or so. We ascertained that
we were the first Gringos they had EVER seen in person! they just stared
silently as we drank our beers. Then an intrepid young woman produced a camera
and demanded pictures with each of us and our bikes. Then we got out our cameras
and took pictures of them. Then they started talking and joking and literally
mobbing us. We felt like rock stars. No sooner had Ed joked that they would ask
for autographs than a girl approached with a paper and pen. I drew the line when
another girl wanted me to sign her stomach. We left the next day, having to take
a ferry across a big river. We returned to pavement later that day. I had bought
a big expensive knobby tire for the dirt and didn't want to ruin it on the
pavement, so I had a kid swap it for my old tire, which I had ingeniously
mounted to the back of the bike in such a manner that the side knobs (the only
ones left) poked me in the spine with every bump. I was afraid the kid would
pinch my tube and I offered him my high tech titanium tire irons, but he
refused. He made the initial pry at the biggest knobby on the continent with 2
sharpened pieces of rebar. From there he used a giant rubber mallet both to
remove the knobby and to completely mount the old tire. The whole operation took
about 5 minutes. I love to watch a master work. The road to Belem is probably
the worst PAVED road in the western hemisphere. Most of the roads since Natal
have had giant potholes everywhere and we had developed what I call the Brazilian
slalom weaving in and out of the big tire eaters. Its a lot of fun actually, but
the problem is the cars ad trucks do it too and you never know what lane they
will be in and when they will suddenly dive to one side or the other. I had just
"threaded the needle," passing between a big truck and an ox-drawn
cart while dodging potholes, when it occurred to me that the part of my brain
that should say "Gee, that was a bit unusual," had been numb for
thousands of miles. Just after that, Matt hit a vulture with his head. I've had
2 small birds fly into my legs on this trip an I hardly felt it either time. But
the vulture damn near knocked Matt out. It broke the visor and shield off his
helmet too. But the vulture flew away! That and the holes in the road that were literally
big enough to hide a truck in kind of woke up that part of my brain and I spent
the day laughing inside my helmet. One of the holes actually had cones around
it. The fucker was over 10 feet deep! If you drove in, you would hit the other
side then bounce off before you finally hit the bottom. We got to Belem and
secured a boat to take us up the Amazon to Manuas. We were dealing with some
brokers at an office and they needed to take someone to see the captain of the
boat. Ed went with them in a taxi while Matt and I stayed with the bikes. The
situation at the bikes was not good. Some ruffians were milling around and we
had a bad feeling about them. Matt informed me that one of them was now hiding a
small knife in his sleeve. We were just saying, "I sure hope Ed gets back
soon" when he showed up in the taxi and announced the deal had been made
with the boat. I said something like "Good, now put on your helmet, its
Time To Go." We had just gotten our helmets on when another guy chased the
one hiding the small knife out into the street with a BIG knife. "Time to
go!" We jumped on our bikes. Dirtbikes have the odd habit of not wanting to
start at critical times. Mine is the only one with electric start and it was
cranking, but not firing. I could hear Matt and Ed behind me kicking their bikes
but no engine sounds. "Start em up kids!" Mine still wouldn't go. OK
stay calm. Kickstand up? Yes. Run switch on? Yes. Stay calm. Try the choke. Stay
calm. Give it some gas. It started and I leapt off the sidewalk and into the
street. I stopped to look for Matt and Ed who finally got theirs started. The
two with the knives had seemed to settle down but were still in the street. Ed
took off and we followed him back to the boat, still wired with adrenaline. The
boat aint no luxury liner. Its a 3rd world boat, complete with giant cockroaches
and at least one medium sized rat. But she looks seaworthy and we have 2 rooms
among the 3 of us (Ed cant stand up in his). I met the captain, and I like him.
It will be a fine voyage. We leave tomorrow.
Up River
The boat is loaded with our bikes and we leave for Manous in about 5 1/2 hours,
at high tide. (We are close enough to the Atlantic that the Amazon is affected
by its tides.) We are also just barely south of the equator at about 1.5 degrees
south latitude. I will be out of contact for at least the 5 days on the river.
From Manous, we hire another boat to Porto Velho, then ride to Rio Branco, then
Peru via Puerto Maldonado, where I was in 2000. It will be good to speak Spanish
again, as I am seriously handicapped by my lack of Portuguese. Other problems
encountered are: I cant get money from ATM's. Matt is able to and I have been
borrowing from him. I am getting a check sent to his account to cover it.
Travelers checks suck. I finally managed to cash 2 this morning, after 1.5 days'
toil. I intended to buy anti-malaria pills here in brazil, only to find out that
you CAN'T. This seems ludicrous since there is a lot of that nasty disease down
here. I got lucky though when I met a British group looking to sell their extra
pills. I'm set now.
Lurkers, Lies, The Fellowship Broken
It has been tough going. Our boat, the Lobo Ferroz (Ferocious Wolf, which we
called the Rabid Chihuahua) had nothing but problems. We left a day late, we ran
out of gas, we had to get parts, welding was done, etc. The Lurkers (dock
workers lurking in shadows) did something bad to our bikes when they washed
them, but we got them running again. We arrived 3 days late in Manous and got transferred
to another boat that made our old one look good, really good. (During the
transfer, Matt's camera got stolen.) They swore the boat would leave in 2 days.
The next day, when they were pulling the engine out of it, the bastards still
swore they would leave on time. I got irate, bordering on violent, and we got transferred
to another boat (a very nice one with Amurican-made Caterpillar power). It, too,
is leaving a day later then promised, but all should be well, now that we made
the very dicey transfer of big motorcycles into small canoes and into the next
boat. Ed does not have much time left on this trip and wants to ride all the way
back thru central America. To make this happen, he is taking a boat Northeast to
Iquitos, Peru. Matt and I are still headed Southeast to Puerto Maldonado, Peru.
So we sadly parted ways with Ed. Matt plans to leave his bike in Ecuador in
August and fly home. I do not know what I will do when that time comes, but I
know I don't want to ride Central America alone, but I have much time to work
something out. We take this boat (the Alfredo Zanys, which I call Weird Al) to
Porto Vela. From there we will take our destinies back into our own hands as we
ride to Rio Branco, then Peru. That's when the real adventure begins, I think.
Gotta run,
In the jungle, the mighty jungle
Lets see, where are we? We took the boat from Belem to Manuas. There were too
many details and problems to recount, but to sum up, we left a day late, we ran
out of fuel, the oil pump broke, we broke something running into a dock that had
to be welded, the bikes were sabotaged, one of the passengers had to be taken
away by the police, and Matt's camera got stolen along with about 250 digital
pictures inside. Oh yeah, the only thing worse than the food was the music.
Lesson- on an Amazon boat, never say it couldn't get any worse and never say,
something like, What next, we run out of gas? because it WILL happen. The
highlight was when we ran out gas (diesel, actually), we stopped at a village of
5 houses all on stilts, connected by a stilted walkway. They raised water
buffalo which stayed at night on a stilted platform. At high tide (the Amazon
has tides) the whole village is flooded. We were able to go in one of the houses
and we took their dugout canoes out for a spin (literally, in Matt's case). Very
cool. In Manous, we were immediately transferred to the next boat, to take us up
the Rio Madera to Porto Velho. This involved lowering our bikes about 8 feet
(mine weighs about 320lb without all the gear) by hand off the boat into a
smaller boat, then lifting them by hand onto the next bigger boat. The
negotiated price for the loading was 20 reals. After it was done, they demanded
100. We gave them 50, more than double the negotiated price. I saw them again
the next day on the street and they demanded still more. I don't know how to say
"GO FUCK YOURSELF" in Portuguese yet (Spanish, yes, but not Portuguese),
but I think they got the idea. Our first boat, the Lobo Ferroz had many
problems, but the next boat, the JC, was a REAL piece of shit. They promised it
would leave in 2 days. The next day, they were pulling the engine out. We were
watching them pull the engine and they swore up and down that it would leave the
next day. I wanted nothing more than to beat some honesty into them. We got
transferred to another boat, the Alfredo Zanys, again via a small canoe and big
muscles. The Alfredo Zany did not leave the day it was supposed to either. The
next day, just an hour before we were supposed to leave again, they said we had
to transfer to another boat because the Alfredo was not going. Then the captains
of both the Elizabeth and the Voyagers claimed they were leaving that night. We
knew at least someone was lying, but didn't want to risk beating the truth out
of them, no matter how much we wanted to, since it was clear we have to ride on
one of the boats at some point. Eventually, we transferred to the Voyagers, THEN
the Elizabeth. The bikes had been on 7 different boats, including the transfer
canoes before we got out of port. We had been lied to more times than I could
count. The state of no certainty and lack of scheduling is called MENTIRA. I can't
help but think it is a big hindrance to progress down here. We spent 2 days
sitting in boats instead of doing things ashore that we needed to get done
because of the lies. Had we been told the truth, we could have planned and been
productive during those 2 days. The Elizabeth was actually a very good boat with
Caterpillar diesel power. The only complaint was the music. In classic South
American style, the one CD they owned was played over and over and over. The
volume was at full maximum 100% of the time and the distortion was unbearable.
You could not get away from it below deck, either- it was that loud. I finally
stole the fuse out of the amplifier while they were unloading cargo at a port,
took the fuse below deck, unwired an outlet, blew the fuse with the 220 Volt
outlet wires and replaced it. The sabotage bought us about 5 hours of peace
until they found the problem. We had decided to leave straight from Porto Velho
on our bikes and head south into Bolivia. Then we got to talking to the owner of
a local bike shop. He races enduro pretty seriously and wants to take us riding
on the local trails this weekend and also to a Nocturnal Supercross Saturday
night. So we decided to stay. He also hooked us up with some American and
Canadian missionaries in the area. We rode out to the missionaries compound this
morning. It is very nice, with a swimming pool and everything. The compound is a
base of operations from which they fly to various Indian villages, translating
the bible to native tongues. They offered to fly us into one of the villages for
the price of airplane fuel. This is a tremendous opportunity to get to
experience real jungle life. These villages can only be accessed by the
missionaries planes (they don't let anyone else land and there is nothing like a
road). However, Matt and I are both very much against the missionary mission. So
we are asking ourselves the moral question of whether or not our going there
would contribute to the missionaries goals and whether our presence would
further legitimize the missionaries in the minds of the Indians. We are leaning
to the opinion that the missionaries will do what they do whether or not we go
with them. It is better to see what really happens there and be able to tell
people what is going on from 1st hand experience. My motto has long been "KNOW
THY ENEMY." There is also the question of expense, but I think it will be
well worth it for such a rare opportunity. Tony Bubb- you are good at casting
doubt and reason into the minds of the faithful- any advice on sabotaging the
missionaries' mission? (keep in mind that the Indians don't even speak Portuguese
so verbal communication is mostly out). Till next time.
Backyards, Bolivia, Jungle slot cars, Indians, Missionaries, I take the
plane
A lot has happened since the last communiqué. We decided to take the
missionaries up on their offer to fly to the Indian tribe and scheduled for
Monday morning. Saturday afternoon, we met up with a large (about 18) group of
Brazilian dirtbikers who go riding every weekend. Some of them were pretty good,
others were just learning. I rode close to the front to stay out of the dust but
still wanted a faster pace. I knew the locals wanted to see just what a big Six
Five Oh would do and showed them a few times with generous amounts of throttle.
Matt impressed them with lots of wheelies. I crossed a DEEP mudhole along with a
couple of other front runners, only to find that we shouldn't have crossed and
needed to go back. Lots of throttle and momomentum carried the Great White Pig
thru, but the others didn't make it, so I helped drag them thru. I hated to
think about the creatures both great and microscopic living in that ooze, but
helped them out just the same. A few more open trails led us into the jungle
trails. I was eager to show the boys that I could ride the tight stuff too, even
with the heaviest dirtbike on the continent and passed 3 or 4 immediately and
hung right with the front runners, but it was tough. My front tire is pretty
bald from 6000 miles of mostly pavement and the jungle trails were all slippery
mud. But there were ruts through all the turns so I just rode the ruts like a
slot car. Hard work and when I came out the other side and stopped with steam
from the mud coming off the engine, the heat was indescribable. On the way back,
we took the powerline path through the neighborhoods. Thick, viney grass up to
10 feet tall, glad I was wearing moto boots in case one of them little fellows
with no shoulders and long fangs should try to bite. Our fearless leader fell on
an unseen rock in sight of a backyard. I heckled him with the horn, children
cheered, dogs barked, shirtless men waved the remnants of their beers. We rode
over handmade plank bridges that looked like they would barely support a fat man
on a bicycle, much less a slim man on the Great White Pig, through a soccer game
in progress, several backyard barbeques, dumps, and businesses. We would have
been lynched in the USA. The value of local guides. Sundays ride was much more
tame, but still fun. Mostly dirt roads, only fun when you rode them really fast.
Monday we went out to the missionaries' compound to fly to the Indian tribe. I
got lost, but got there eventually. From the air, we confirmed what the
missionary had told us about the shrinking rainforest- Yes, there is logging
near the towns and roads, but there is still one hell of a lot of it left
untouched in the interior. The landing strip was small but one of the best ones
they have. We came in steep and slow, with the stall warnings blaring, bounced
twice, then stopped. The tribe came out to greet us. We weren't sure how to
greet them, but they mostly came with hands extended for shaking, saying Bom
Diar (Portuguese for good day). One of the leaders, dressed in a very old sport
coat and slacks, gave us each a hug. They were mostly dressed in tattered T-shirts
and shorts with bare feet. Some of the girls had red face paint which used to be
symbolic, but is done now mostly for fun. I was a full head taller than the
tallest man. I climbed a tree with some of the kids to get some fruit and was
scared to go as high or far out as them. We walked through their whole village
with Steve. Steve was born and raised in the village, the son of the first
missionaries there. Steve is a real life Tarzan and until recently held the
worlds record for finding the largest Tarantula (something like 15.75 inches in
diameter!) We saw where they worked, played and slept. Most of the men were out
hunting or something and most of the others were either following us around or
lounging in hammocks. Not much to see in terms of activity, but I guess it was
like trying to see what a north American family does and finding them watching
TV. Not exciting, but typical, nonetheless. We did see their pets and livestock-
monkeys, a tiny deer, a ratlike thing, another ferocious rodent type thing,
dogs, and chickens. The chickens had to be kept in very tightly woven coops at
night to keep the vampire (yes, Vampire) bats from killing them. My overall
impression was that the missionaries were doing more good than harm. These Indians
had been contacted by the outside world by miners and fishermen who would have
done far more to corrupt them than the missionaries. The missionaries also do
seem to be sensitive to keeping their way of life intact. Where the Brazilian
government has interfered, the Indians have moved to town, forgotten their own
language, etc. Still I wish the good things they do could happen without the
religion. Steve took us for a walk through virgin jungle, very thick, and the
ground was not dirt- it was soft dead vegetation. I don't know how deep you
would have to dig before you hit dirt, but I guess 2-3 feet in most places. That's
why they have to burn it off to plant anything. Before we took off, I told our
pilot, Ray, that I fly a paraplane at home and had read a few books on flying
real planes and that he could talk to me intelligently about what was going on.
Just after takeoff (we barely made avoided having to abort it), Ray told me to
take the plane because he had to write some things down. I thought he was
joking, but he wasn't. I flew almost the whole way back (he landed it, of
course). Overall, it was a very good experience and I feel much better about the
missionary presence here. Yesterday, we rode to the Bolivian border but did not
cross. We crossed today, having to take a very small boat across the river. I
was more than a little worried as the bikes made the center of gravity pretty
high and I was wearing heavy moto boots and a backpack. (The driver was wearing
the only lifevest.) No problems getting through customs and we rode good dirt
roads for about 100km before stopping. Tomorrow will be a big day with about 10
hours of dirt road riding (almost all the roads in Bolivia are dirt). All for
now.
The trials and tribulations of Chicken-Free Transit
I think this one is going to be short, as I am hungry. First, I wanted to
address a concern (this is mostly for you, Mom) about the obscenities in my
emails. I have only this to say- I choose the words and phrases which I feel
best convey the spirit of the moment. This is neither Home Ec class nor a Boy
Scout outing. The language is commensurate with the endeavor. We left Riberalta
yesterday morning headed for Rurrenabaque, Bolivia. After gassing up, we went
thru a National Police checkpoint where the officer hassled us a bit then wanted
money. Matt's espanol is better than mine (we're both glad to be speaking Spanish
again, though) so he told him we didn't have to pay and we left. He had no radio
and there is nothing faster on a dirt road than our mighty Hondas. The road
started out very good dirt and we were able to maintain speeds of 60-70mph
easily- same as pavement. It was potholed and washboarded, but at those speeds
you just skip over all the little stuff. Unfortunately, a few BIG holes (about 2
feet deep and 8 feet diameter) surprised us. Matt broke part of his luggage
system in one of the impacts. He also had his rear fender get sucked into the
rear tire and it chewed up his taillight and most of his license plate. We had
gotten an email a few days earlier from a friend from the boat rides. He had
gotten here by spending "17 hours on a chicken bus." As we were
skipping over the high spots at 70per, I kept thinking of him on that bus,
feeling every pothole and playing "Name that smell." The road got bad,
then it got worse, then it got DUSTY. It was like riding through deep sand,
except that it wasn't sand it was dust. 3-8 inches deep and fine as talcum
powder. We had to stay 1-2 miles apart to let it settle somewhat. I had to stop
and clean my airfilter 3 times. I'm also having trouble with the "Lawyer
Switches" on my bike that don't let it run with the kickstand down or let
it start with the clutch in. These switches are malfunctioning, making the bike
die constantly. They will feel the wrath of the wire cutters tomorrow. Crossing
the Pampas we saw a couple of snakes, a dead caiman, and HUGE cranes that stood
about 4 feet high and had a wingspan of about 6-7 feet. They looked like they
were in slow motion when they flew away. With the airfilter loading up and the
lawyer switches killing the bike constantly, I nursed it into town way past
dark. I just cleaned out my carburetor today and found a lot of dust had gotten
past or around the filter somehow. I seriously fear for the health of my engine
and I may need to rebuild it in La Paz, assuming it will make the climb up
"The World's Most Dangerous Road" into the mountains. At least there
were no chickens.
4 days in the jungle
Several people have replied back saying that they enjoy my emails and that what
I am doing is inspiring them to do things, or at least consider doing things,
that they would not normally consider. This makes me feel really good, and I
thank you. The last few years I have been trying to think of ways to improve
peoples lives. Lately, I have been understanding that one way is to live the
best life I can and let them know about it. That is part of the reason I send so
many emails. When we got to the touristy jungle town of Rurrenabaque, Bolivia,
we planned to stay 1 night then head out for La Paz. Then we ran into a friend
from the Amazon Boats who had just gotten back from a 5 day jungle tour and had
the time of his life. It was a very hardcore tour, cutting thru the jungle with
a machete, building a raft, etc. We decided to do the same, but for only 3 days.
We went to the tour agency he used and asked for his guide. They said they could
do a very similar tour in only 3 days, going up thru Medidi National Park. The
next morning, when we were about to leave, the guide suddenly couldn't make it.
They said they had another who knew the exact area and would be just as good.
When Matt, the guide, and I got to the end of the taxi ride at the edge of the
jungle, the guide asked us what kind of tour we wanted. Turns out he had no idea
what we arranged with the tour company. He normally works for another company
and they just woke him up and asked him to take us out. They arranged the
location, which was not where we wanted- it was near a lot of villages with no
animals to see, not even the national park. We did bash around the jungle for a
while and it was fun (except for the fire ants down my back). So we hitched a
ride on a cattle truck back to town and demanded our money back. We went out the
next day with our guide (A REALLY good guy) for 3 days in Madidi National Park,
which was beautiful. The guide was fantastic at finding animals. We saw Howler
Monkeys, Spider monkeys, Nocturnal Monkeys, Parrots, macaws, toucans, millions
of ants, moths, mosquitoes, and other nasty fliers, giant ants called
veintequatros (Spanish for 24s) because a bite will kill you in 24 hours, and a
big fucking tarantula. We also saw the worlds largest rodents. I forget what
they are called but I call them RUSs after the movie Princess Bride). They get
up to 200 lbs. On the last day, Matt was literally charged by a Tapir, which
looks like a Rhino with a mohawk. We built a raft out of dead Balsa trees (approximately
enough to build 10,897,673 model airplanes by my reckoning) and paddled out over
some class 1 rapids. Overall a great time. The jungle (PC people want us to call
it the rain forest but not all rain forest is jungle and not all jungle is rain
forest) Anyway, the jungle supports life like nowhere else on earth. There is
life everywhere you can look and it is so dense you can never see more than
about 30 feet in any direction. But with life comes death and nowhere is the
cycle of life and death more apparent than the jungle. Dead vegetation covers
the jungle floor and new life springs from it. Even the live trees are in the
process of being killed and eaten, covered by mold, infested with insects. We
saw a live tree that grew around and devoured a dead one. The trees and plants
live and die and provide food for the other plants, for the animals and the
insects. The insects seem to be the only ones really winning the game. This
being evidenced by their sheer numbers. Ants have literal highways with 6 lanes
in each direction (I hear they are installing a commuter lane where you must be
carrying at least 6 times your body weight). The insects fill the air and the
ground, but they too provide food (our guide ate grubs, claiming they were good
for the joints). I am being kicked out now so I have to write about the worlds
most dangerous road next time, but I did survive.
More adventure, the worlds most dangerous road, My poor engine!
I got kicked out of the internet cafe as it closed last time and didn't get to
finish. We are currently waiting around La Paz, Bolivia while my cylinder,
ravaged by Bolivian dust, gets a new sleeve installed. Here is Matt's write-up
of being charged by the Tapir in the jungle: Our last day we woke to heavy
rains, slipping and sliding on the clays surfaces and numerous roots and vines.
At on point Jim and the guide(Sandro) had gotten ahead of me as I was tangled up
in some bush and vines. Not having a MAchette I had to untie myself. After doing
so I could no longer see the trail or where they had gone. I Stood there
wondering which way. Suddenly I noticed a large animal traversing my direction.
Not sure if it was one or several animals, I barely made the figure out to be
pig like...I called out for help as I thought I was about to be attacked by a
pack of Wild Bore. At this time the beast stopped. It looked my direction and
saw me standing alone. I now realized that this was a single animal, larger and
meaner looking than a wild bore. It was about a 350 kilo.(700lb) Tapir.....The
Tapir Looked me down and started to charge me. I froze, I yelled, the animal
coming thru the bush, immense in size It looked like a Rhino, it had a funny
long snout and a mohawk, the animal was about to trample me and I could do
nothing about it...and luckily Sandro came running. The beast got within 5
meters from me and stopped as it noticed two of us. Sandro with a large Machette
in hand was laughing at me as the animal ran off in another direction. He yelled
Tapir, MAteo, Tapir, you saw a tapir....He stabbed his machette into the ground
and was bent over laughing in amusement. I just stood there for a moment trying
to collect my bowels before I could enjoy the incident as well. Soon it was all
good fun. We descended out of the steep hillside into a narrow river, walking
thru the rain, thru the knee deep waters, we walked onwards to an area of
cliffsides where Loros nest. Along the river banks we spotted several areas of
JAguar tracks, and more tapir tracks. Although we did not see a Jaguar in the
flesh I am happy to know that they are living healthy and in numbers within this
region. Back to my writing: We left Rurre in the morning headed for Coroico. I
was unsure about the health of my engine as it had ingested a LOT of dust on the
way to Rurre. It had rained a lot the day before so there wasn't much dust, just
some mud, and we blasted down the rough straight roads at 60-70 mph. In the US
we have things like "take your daughter to work day" and so forth.
This was "put your cows in the road day" in Bolivia. But we managed to
avoid all the bovine roadblocks pretty well. The road got even more fun, turning
into wide sweeping turns, which I was riding pretty aggressively, and, despite
my engine being down on power, it ran very well. Then the road got really
narrow, dusty, twisty, and dangerous as it wound around a deep river valley.
Apparently, you are supposed to stay on the LEFT side of the road here, and you
really can't see around any of the corners. This made for some exiting times and
much exchange of middle fingers between us and truck and bus drivers. We finally
got to Corioco, a small touristy town at about 6000 feet elevation. The last 6
miles had 203 turns, by my count. We chose to stay at the Hotel Esmeralda, based
on advice from a friend and it was fantastic. The weather was perfect, the views
incredible, the food and beer plentiful and cheap. We planned to stay 1 night
but it turned into 3. Three nights' stay, including meals, beer, wine, pool, and
sauna cost about $40 each. The next day we started up the Worlds Most Dangerous
Road, towards La Paz. There were not nearly as many trucks as the previous day,
and I really didn't think it was as dangerous. The views were incredible, though
you had to be careful not to look too long, lest you go over the edge! Several
tour companies offer mountain bike rides down this thing. I'll take my
motorcycle, thanks. Once we got past the dangerous dirt part of the road and hit
pavement we decided to stop to eat at a small roadside shack and shared a meal
with 4 motorcycle riders from La Paz. They were interesting to talk to and spoke
Spanish clearly enough that I understood almost everything. We continued up over
Yungas Pass where my GPS indicated over 15,000 feet elevation, higher than any
mountaintop in the lower 48. The bike struggled to go 20mph uphill, but made it
completely under its own power. After securing a place to stay and riding our
bikes up the stairs and into the lobby, we went to Walter Nosiglia´s Honda shop
to take a look at my engine. Walter is a many-time national enduro champion and
his shop is the best in Bolivia. I helped the mechanic take the engine apart and
noticed that I am carrying on my bike more tools than he has in the shop. A
troublesome bolt would not come out with any tool anybody had in the shop. I had
the right tool, but was lacking a simple socket extension. There was not one in
the shop and they said there was not even one in the city. Eventually, a
mechanic found the proper tool elsewhere in the city. When we opened the cylinder
up, it was possible to wiggle the piston back and forth about 1/16 inch because
the dust had done so much damage. This is bad. Really bad. Fortunately, this
engine has an iron sleeve instead of the higher-tech nikosil coated aluminum
that my other bikes have. They were going to bore the sleeve slightly and put in
a slightly bigger piston and rings, but there is no bigger set in the country,
only a standard-sized set. Since the original sleeve is now way to big for the
standard size piston and rings, they are going to take the old sleeve out and
put a new one in. I am scared. This seems like a very complex operation to be
done in a place where the best shop in the country does not have a $3 ratchet
extension. Still, they are keeping 25 year old Hondas going somehow, so they
must be doing something right. My fingers are crossed. If the surgery goes well,
we will be on the road tomorrow night or the day after, headed north around Lake
Titicaca, into the Peruvian Andes, through Cusco and across the highlands
towards the climbing mecca of Huaraz, where I have been twice before. Matt rode
these roads the other direction 2 years ago and says they are fantastically
fun.
El Puerco Vive!!
The Great White Pig is alive and well and living in Cusco, Peru. The cylinder
had new sleeve installed. They chipped one of the cooling fins, but otherwise
seems OK. I helped the mechanic put the engine back together. Helping a mechanic
work on your own engine, is a bit like helping a surgeon perform a triple bypass
on your own heart. I was really scared a lot of times, but glad I was there to
make sure he did it right (or as right as is possible in Bolivia). As it turns
out, they did NOT have new gaskets for the engine, like they promised 4 times.
The base gasket had a big section ripped out of it, and the mechanic wanted to
just silicone it back together. I would not let him, so he fetched a
make-your-own gasket kit which was not the same thickness, as he claimed it was.
I insisted he find some the right thickness, and he made a nice gasket for it.
He reused the head gasket- not something I wanted, but there was no choice. It
finally went together and is running fine. The whole operation, including parts
and labor, cost about $300. Walter even gave us his 3 best used tires! I did the
breakin from La Paz, Bolivia to Cusco, Peru, running it very slowly at first,
then faster and faster, varying the speed and load so that the piston would see
many combinations of inertia load and gas load, forging itself to the proper
shape each time it bounced and twisted along the new cylinder wall. The border
police in Bolivia demanded 20 Bolivianos each to let us leave and kind of
circled around us threateningly, but Matt held his ground and refused to pay the
bribe. No problems, but I was really anxious to cross the bridge into Peru. We
were at over 13000 feet for 2 solid days and I could definitely feel the
altitude. The Altiplano around Lake Titicaa is mostly flat with huge beautiful
mountains in the distance. The riding was easy and mostly straight. It reminded
me of I80 across Wyoming, except about 6000-7000 feet higher. After so many
weeks of brutally hot weather, its nice to get some cold and finally use the
protective jacket and pants that have been overstuffing the luggage. Cusco is at
around 10000 feet and a bit chilly. We got to Cusco Friday night and partied it
up, South American Style, getting back to the hotel just before dawn. Today we
took a 4 hour tour of the ruins around Cusco on horseback- just me, Matt, and
our 12 year old guide. Matt got bucked off the horse and his knee hurts, but it
should be fine. All and all a great day. Taking it easy tonight, heading north
towards Huaraz early in the morning. All for now.
Peru
For those of you who wonder where I find the time to do internet, we are in
Huanuco, Peru while Matt recovers from multiple problems. I don't have a lot
else to do right now. Matt is kind of hurtin but taking it well. He has a cold
along with something much worse (I suspect some kind of parasite, but we don't
know) He also hurt his knee pretty badly in a crash. He slid (on dirt) with the
bike on top of his knee and hit a rock with it. When he writes that up I'll
paste it into an email. We left Cusco Sunday morning with a police escort and
headed north on a brand-new paved road thru twisty mountains. This is probably
the best road I've ever ridden with spectacular views as it went through turn
after turn up and down the mountains. The locals seemed to like my knee-out
roadracer style. Being new, the road was a bit slippery and the back end wanted
to come around a few times for each of us but we maintained a big safety factor
and had no problems. We both wished we were on our streetbikes though. An odd
thing happened in the town we stayed in (forget the name). When we got there on
the bikes and stopped at a tire place to mount the knobbies we had been carrying
and change oil, a crowd gathered, as usual. Everybody was very nice, bought us
beer, and even took us out to dinner. After they left and we settled into a
hotel we went out on foot to find a totally different scene. Several people were
taunting us a bit on the street and merchants were just plain rude. The next
morning, getting gas for the bikes, the crowd couldn't have been more friendly.
We talked about it later and came to the conclusion that the bikes command
respect. With them, we are cool. Without them, we are just tourists. The next
day was tough dirt roads up and down 3 mountains, all over 14000 feet. Like
riding up and down Pikes Peak 3 times in a day, except that the roads were
infinitely rougher. But the views were again spectacular and the going, while
tough, was immensely fun. We stopped in a sizable town for ceviche and had
slight run-in with the town drunk (every town has one and he is always the first
to find us). But the other people there were very nice and tried quite hard to
run him off, obviously embarrassed. It was this day that Matt fell and hurt his
knee. We made it to the small town of Cosco near dark but decided to push on to
the next big town. All day I had been riding pretty aggressively with no
problems through hundreds of miles of rough dirt roads, probably thousands of
turns, and millions of bumps, potholes, etc... Motorcycles, however, really
should not be able to stand up on just two wheels and, as such, are an affront
to physics. Sir Isaac Fig Newton, in his grave, can only tolerate so much of
this before he reaches up and swats your ass to the ground where it belongs.
This is what he did to me as I came out of an easy left hand switchback, with
the mountainside to my right. The front end just suddenly went out from under me
and I fell right into the side of the mountain. Matt watched the whole thing
from behind as 450 lb of Great White Pig rode me sideways across the
mountainside until we came to a stop about 15 feet later. He thought I had
crushed some ribs or something and came running to my aid, but all I suffered
was a scraped right hand, owning to proper riding gear and flexibility. The GWP,
shattered his windscreen, but all else was well. Looking back from the crash,
there was not a rock, not a rut, nothing whatsoever to make me crash. We decided
not to push on through the dark and went back to the small town for the night.
We found a hostel, a small concrete room behind a store. The toilet down the
street was a hole in the floor with little footpads. A crowd of kids gathered to
watch us pull the bikes into the room (I dropped mine- it had been a long day),
and one kid made off with the lock and key to the room. After explaining this to
the old lady and paying for new ones, we settled in for bed. Mom, you may not
want to read the next part (its rated PG13)- We were awakened by barking dogs,
louder than The Hammers of Hell. It went on and on. Finally, I went outside to
find them. They were just up the hill and I threw a rock at them, missing. The
first dog took off down the hill past me. Then the second followed at top speed.
I sighted him and threw the second rock, having estimated his speed and the
necessary lead. Both dog and rock disappeared into the shadows of the moonlight,
but I heard the YIPE YIPE YIPE. Got em! I went back to the room feeling pretty
good. That's right dogs- I am King of the Street! The next time I woke up to a
different disturbance. I had seen a burro or donkey when I went out before and
figured that was the source of the noise. Matt said "Why don't you chase
that thing down the street?" I said something like "Hell yea, I
will," and stepped out into the street wearing only my long underwear and
moto boots. I picked up a pair of rocks and stomped up the hill to the corner
where the noise was coming from. I need to listen to my old See-and-Say barnyard
animals toy again, because it was no donkey. I turned the corner to see the BULL
with his cow. There I was with 2 small rocks staring 3000 lbs of pissed off beef
right in the horns. He turned towards me, squared off, lowered his horns and
snorted. JUST like in the Buggs Bunny cartoon. I backed slowly away and ran into
the room shutting the door behind me. "Did you run him off?" "Not
exactly." I woke yet again to the sound of the bull just outside the door!
Matt said "Did you latch that door?" "Oh Shit!" I had
visions of the bull crashing through the unlatched door like in the old Schlitz
Malt Liquor commercials and jumped up and latched it. I looked out the window to
see the bull, with his cow, staring at the door and grunting, then walking
slowly away down the hill. He just stopped by to say "Fuck you." Point
taken, SeÑor Toro, YOU are King of the Street. Mom, its OK again- The next day
was more dirt roads like the day before. It finally led to a new paved road not
far from town. On the easy paved road I let my guard down a bit and wasn't
really looking for animals when suddenly something very large literally ran into
the road. "What the hell is that?" It looked like a big wooly yak. I
started to go behind it to the left then realized there was a second one so I
went left in front of it, on the gas, missing it by less than 2 feet. Up close,
I saw it was a burro carrying a load of sticks that looked like thick wool. On
this trip, I have only hit one chicken. Three small birds also flew into my
legs. Matt, on the other hand has been decimating the South American animal
population, having hit 1 pig, 1 vulture, 1 dog, and 1 cow. Yesterday he added 1
sheep to the tally. He also caused 3 chickens to run over the edge of a huge
cliff to a watery grave below. I am knocking on this wooden desk, as I see a
llama in my future. Yesterday, was more paved road, almost as good as the road
out of Cusco. With the exception of the flattened sheep, the only incident was
getting robbed. The police pulled us over just outside Huanuco for
"speeding." We weren't going any faster than anybody else and it was
completely obvious that they were only harassing the foreigners. We talked the
"fine" down from $200 to $30, but felt bad about supporting police
corruption. Matt feels better today than last night and we might head up to
Huaraz to do some climbing and trekking, depending on Matt's knee. All for
now.
The Mountains, the Call of Home
Of late, Matt and I have been talking more and more about getting home and
getting back to work. Apparently we are not of the leisure class, as we both
feel the need to be productive and useful. For Matt, that means returning to his
job at a small architectural firm in Boulder. For me, I can work at Stanley
Alpine, but I no longer have my workshop, my office, or for that matter, my
home. I will need to look for more regular work as well, but can have a lot of
fun in Colorado in the meantime. So we are looking to wrap it up soon. Matt will
leave his bike with a friend in Ecuador so that he can easily fly back and
travel with it again. I also have that option but think I want to ride all the
way home. There is a Spaniard riding a Harley from Argentina to Milwaukee for
the 100th anniversary of HD. I may be able to hook up with him thru Central Am.
If so, I think I will. Matt recovered from his illness and we rode from Guanaco
to Huaraz, thru coca country. Matt had problems in coca country 2 years ago with
people throwing rocks at him and so forth so we wanted so be 100% for that part
of the ride. Turned out, no problems- just some angry looks and a few shouts.
The riding was otherwise fantastic. The road topped out at over 16000 feet with
views of the Cordierra Huaywash to the left and the Cordierra Blanca to the
right. After some photos we continued down the good dirt roads with spectacular
views and deadly dropoffs. Matt hung back and enjoyed the scenery, but I was
having too much fun twisting the throttle and really blasted some sections...
Pulling into Huaraz was like a homecoming to me. I rode right to the Thai
restaurant, run by my old friend Naeresuan. I also rode right to Edwards Inn
where another old friend and climbing partner, Eric Landmann was staying. Eric
had just flown down from Madison, WI to do some climbing and it was good to see
him after 3 years apart. He came down alone expecting to find partners here
which is normally easy, but this is a slow year for climbing and for tourism in
general, due, in part, to the state of emergency imposed by President Toledo.
(When Eric and I were here in 2000, they were rioting in the streets to get
Fujimori out and Toledo in, now they are rioting to get Toledo out). Eric was
not having any luck finding a partner. I told him that I am in the worst shape
of my life, but would be happy to join him for a climb anyway. I have no
climbing gear with me but Naeresuan lent me the essentials- boots, crampons, ice
axe, backpack, helmet. Eric, Matt and I went to Ishinca Valley to make another
attempt at 6000+ meter Toclaraju. Eric and I tried it along with 2 others in
2000, but were turned back by blizzard conditions at over 18000 feet. Eric made
another attempt in 2001 but had to retreat again, though I forget why. Matt's
knee is still healing from his crash so he didn't expect to climb, just to camp
and hang out. Eric and I went for a day hike up to about 17000 feet and we both
felt strong and good. I wasn't feeling very good that morning and kind of wanted
a rest day. Eric sensed the weather would be right immediately and want to go
up. Eric is very experienced at high altitude and was completely right about the
weather, so we went up to high camp at about 18000 feet. That same day, Matt, whose
knee was feeling better, successfully climbed Mt Urus at about 17800 feet with
our Canadian campsite neighbors. As we went up, I was feeling less than 100%,
but was still moving fairly quickly. When we got to high camp, things started to
go wrong. First I broke a pole to his tent. It was still very useable though.
Then I started getting SICK. I think this was a combination of several factors-
partly altitude, but mostly some damn Peruvian stomach disease I picked up. I
had been having minor problems since crossing the border, but it really got
worse here. It was also keeping me from hydrating as everything I drank went out
the other end. I had to curl up in my sleeping bag while Eric did most of the
work. Then the next problem. We forgot the fucking rope! This was both of our
faults as we both assumed the other had it. Eric went back to a large German
encampment and borrowed one from a Peruvian guide, about 1 hour round trip. It
looked like we might make it yet, but then the stove ran out of fuel. We could
not melt any more snow for water so we had to go down. I was also in no shape to
go up, even with water. Eric was fully capable of soloing the route, even with
its 2 sections of vertical ice, but there were too many crevaces to be unroped.
The next morning, the weather was absolutely perfect for climbing but we had to
go down. Even if I had been healthy, there was not enough water to make it there
and back. I really felt bad for Eric. This makes three trips to Peru, three
times I've gotten sick. Two trips through Peru for Matt, two times he has gotten
sick. Neither of us has gotten sick in any other country. I'm starting to see a
pattern... Its a shame because the scenery and the people are really wonderful.
Not sure what the immediate plan is yet, but we'll probably head north
soon.
End in Sight
I have decided to leave my bike in Ecuador and fly home in mid July. While I do
want to ride all the way home for a sense of completeness, there are several
reasons to come home from Ecuador. 1 I want to return to south America. The bike
will be just a plane ride away 2 The bike is a weathered world traveler that I
cant sell for much money in the US, and owning other bikes, I have no other use
for it, so I would just have to ship it out again for another big trip. 3 I am
considering buying land in Argentina and want to return for a scouting mission.
4 Lots of summer fun still to be had in USA without a job! Yesterday, Matt and I
had one of our best days yet. I will write that up another time. In the
meantime, I will send a few photos. And Matt has added another hit to the tally-
thus far it is: 1 vulture, 1 pig, 1 dog, 1 sheep, 1 cow, and .... 1 TOYOTA
PICKUP TRUCK! All is well and the Honda fared better than the Toyota!
Ecuador, Ugly Americans, Machine Guns, Urban Assault
We saw some incredible pre-Incan ruins in the northern part of the Peru few
tourists ever see. Unfortunately, our last night in Peru, some tools got stolen
off my bike. By that time, Matt and I were getting pretty tired of Peru and
wanted out. So we hauled ass towards the desolate border with Ecuador. Things
went pretty smoothly with the bikes getting out, but when we needed our exit
stamps on our passports, they sent us down to another building where the woman wasn't
there, then back to the first place, back to the second place, over and over.
Matt was pretty fed up by then and he yelled out, in Spanish, how nobody knows
what is going on and everybody in Peru is stupid. This was, of course heard by
the guy who still needed to stamp our passports. We finally did get checked out,
though, and we each proceeded to do big sideways burnouts across the bridge to Ecuador.
After being hassled a bit about the bikes, we got checked out there too. Matt
had a few choice words (mostly in English this time), but when we went to leave,
my bike wouldn't start. At least it got me out of the country we had just
insulted. I fixed the electrical problem under the close scrutiny of every small
child in the province and took off, with another big sideways burnout. About 300
yards down the road, we were stopped by a military checkpoint (there are lots of
those around here). One young soldier kept pointing at my bags saying something
about give me. I offered him a foot in the ass instead but, luckily, he didn't
understand my English. I complimented another soldier on his fine German HK
machine gun and he was clearly flattered. When I asked if the caliber was 5.56mm
or 7.62mm he kind of shrugged and sort of handed it to me to see for myself-
5.56mm it was. The guy who wanted my luggage took off towards town in a bus on
the tight and steep dirt roads. It took another 20 minutes or so for them
inspect us, but we passed the bus, rode to town, found a hotel, checked in,
changed, went out and got dinner, then finally saw his bus pull in. Dirtbikes
rule! We wanted to sleep in, but the roosters started around 4:00 AM, the dogs
around 4:30, the neighbors yelling around 5, and the music started around 5:30.
The noise was unreal... Welcome to Ecuador. The mornings ride was wet, cold and
muddy. It was full conditions- rain, dense fog, freezing temps, steep hills,
mudslides, deep river crossings, everything. I could only laugh. We stopped in
Vilcabamba only to get lunch, but when the owner of the Hotel Ruinas came up and
told us about the hottub, sauna, bar etc.. we decided to stay one night and that
turned into 3 nights. A little luxury is good now and then- resets the attitude.
We wanted to barbeque for July 4th, but were unable to buy any food in town, so
we ate at the best restaurant. Actually, we started the night off with a few
shots of snake liquor. This is a foul local liquor kept in big jar with several
black and white snakes in the bottom. It tastes like a mixture of gasoline,
battery acid, and tequila, Oh Yea, and SNAKES! After that, we had dinner, then on to the
karaoke bar. Turns out, Matt does a good Bob Marley and I do a good Lois
Armstrong. The Ecuadorians loved it though, when I sang Van HAlen's "JUMP!"
and jumped wildly each time the song said to. More friendly Ecuadorians showed
up with a bottle of rum with predictable drunkenness. We had no barbeque and no
fireworks, but we were still celebrating pretty well. That's when I suggested
that we should get the bikes and do wheelies around and around the town square.
Back at the hotel, one of our new friends, Rachel, said "I hate to be the
motherly type, but is this a good idea?" I leaned over and whispered into
her ear "OF FUCKINGCOURSENOT" and took off. While the wheelies around
the plaza were entertaining, it was the stairs and curbs that were really nuts.
We rode up the stairs of the church and back down, then the stairs of the
courthouse, then some really long stairs in the park. Over curbs, down the
sidewalks, down those stairs, and jumping the 3 foot drops back into the street.
I was laughing so hard it hurt. Some of the stairs were pretty steep, but again,
that's why we are on dirtbikes! The next day, we saw one of the guys from the
bar. He saw the whole thing. We are his heroes. We are now in the beautiful town
of Cuenca, Ecuador. We both need to buy tires in the morning and will head out
the next day, to Banos, where there are hot springs and a really active volcano.
All for now.
Old Fashioned Butt Kickin
Regarding my last email- we were not as ugly Americans as it might seem from the
email. Down here, people, especially government officials, will take advantage
of you and jerk you around in every possible way if you let them. You must often
stand firm, argue, etc. It's just the way it is. Had we (especially Matt) not
had tough attitudes with officials, we would have had to pay many bribes on this
trip, and might still be stuck at some of the borders. I would rather be seen as
rude than further contribute to corruption. As for the urban assault on the
stairs and so forth- most people down here think that's as cool as we did. The
only people who saw it said we were heroes. We often go blasting through small
villages and people just wave us on to go faster. You can do anything you want
with a bike down here. Riding down the sidewalk, wrong way on a one-way, its all
normal, even expected, here. Enough said. When we pulled into Cuenca a few days
ago, we were looking for a hotel. A guy in a Ford Explorer kept honking at us
and eventually he pulled over and got out. We were a bit nervous at first, but
turns out that he is also a motorcyclist and invited us to a meeting Wednesday
night where Simon Millward is speaking. (Simon is riding around the world and is
helping people in poor countries by, among other things, getting motorcycles
donated to doctors so that they can reach people in remote areas. I met him the
other day and we're going to his meeting tonight. see millennium-ride.com) He
also led us to a cheap hotel. The next day, he took us to the local KTM
dealership to buy new tires. There we met the current and former national enduro
champions of Ecuador. Cristian Merchan, the current champ took us out trail
riding yesterday. Unfortunately for us, it rained all morning. While we had nice
new knobbies in the back, we both have old tires up front designed more for
street than mud. Cristian, was mounted on a new KTM 300EXC with fresh tires fore
and aft. This was not the XR250 crowd we dusted so easily back in Brazil. This
time we were seriously outclassed in both talent and hardware. He took us up
into the nearby mountains where they run a lot of the national enduro races. We
both did pretty well, except in the slipperiest places. Whenever it got really
slimy, our front wheels went out from under us and our bikes are way too heavy
to keep from falling once they start to go down. The Champ, of course, had no
such troubles. He took us up some really big muddy hills where even our big-bore
Hondas were really straining to pull second gear. I made the first one with no
trouble, but the second one got me. I first tried a different line up through
some tall grass, carrying as much speed as possible. The grass hid a big hole, I
flew out of it and landed into the face of another hole- over the bars and flat
on my back. At least the grass was soft. Back down to try the regular line. Not
enough speed the first time and I ran out of traction close to the top. Heading
back down for another go, the front brakes were pretty useless with the mostly
bald front tire and it got away from me. I picked the big beast up and slid/rode
awkwardly back to the base for another try. This time, I had the right balance
of speed and control and made it to the top. One more ugly downhill and we were
back on dirt roads heading back to town at full speed. A little tough on the
egos, but a lot of fun. Tomorrow, Wilson Malo, the FORMER national champ is
taking us on a 200 mile trail ride down to the jungle and back. I hope it
doesn't rain any more...
Since
1998