tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83213361710281327792024-03-13T06:13:19.646-07:00The Tom ReportTom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-22047964397753120442011-12-22T07:55:00.000-08:002011-12-22T07:55:29.515-08:00Fin<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was in Salar de</span><a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Uyuni that I realized I was thinking about home the same way I used to dream about this adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even standing in the center of the biggest salt lake in the world, all I could imagine was reinstating my Xbox Live subscription and going out to the garage to tinker on my ’82 XT 550.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The novelty of waking up in the same bed for longer than three consecutive days and wandering out to a refrigerator loaded with familiar foods was compelling me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Developing a daily routine, a steady diet , nice clothes, working out, pursuing other hobbies; these all were starting to sound better than living out of stuff sacks, smelling like gasoline, and living on third world fast food all day shitting my guts dry every morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It wasn’t until Santiago, though, that I felt like I had nothing left to prove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Bolivia I was tired of travelling, but not ready to quit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was still Argentina, the country I’d been anticipating since senior year of high school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus Patagonia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus in my head this has always been a ride from Seattle to Buenos Aires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed to get to BA so that when I tell this story to American girls, they’ll at least have a grasp of how badass it is (face it, Seattle to Potosi doesn’t have the same ring).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most importantly, my mom had a flight booked to meet me in a month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Continuing south was the only option, but for the first time I was eager to get the trip over with and get on to something new.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve had a lot of time to think about the impact of the last nine months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back in March, before I left, people would ask my plans for when I come home; I had none.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d just spent two years wearing blinders working on the trip around the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was nothing beyond it, because it was the only thing that mattered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Getting away was the focus, not getting back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed a chance to live only for myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outside of the realm I was so familiar with.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before this trip straight A’s in high school and a 3.7 in college had sucked some ambition out of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that if the only reason to do my best was to keep piling on more work and responsibility then I wasn’t going to enjoy the next four decades very much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After college I set out on a ‘shithead phase’, a year or two where I shirked responsibility for skiing, windsurfing, and recklessness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was lucky that Alex caught me just when minimum wage jobs and worthless coworkers were really starting to wear me down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His trip around the world was the right mix of hard work and planning paired with complete disrespect for the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With a plan as grand as riding around the world I was able to apply myself while still putting off any decisions that would result in the chains of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friends all nodded and smiled when I’d pour over the trip to them; they were all supportive, but the idea didn’t seem to compel anyone else like it did Alex and me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever it was that had me so restless, I would find the answers on the road. If I could make it home alive, I’d deserve a satisfied mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the weeks leading up to the trip I got sick of hearing ‘dude, you could die…’ so I threw myself a birthday going away party called ‘The Ready to Die Party’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course I wasn’t ready to die, but I was ready to test myself in something other than academics or employment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s amazing is how well this trip did just that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eight months later, I know why I left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve got an appreciation for my home and country more than I dreamed possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone needs to get out of the U.S. to really appreciate it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you watch our media enough you begin to believe that our best days are behind us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cross a couple borders south, though, and the power and draw of the United States present themselves. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our problems are so inconsequential compared to those I’ve been surrounded by in the last months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s an inevitability that we won’t have the rest of the world by the balls like we did for most of the last century, but that doesn’t mean it’s any worse of a place to live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the look across every single foreigner’s face when they find you you’re American is a reminder that we still are a symbol of exceptionality throughout the world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then there’s a newfound confidence that life can’t get more difficult than I’ve experienced or witnessed down here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve passed the ‘ready to die’ test; under harsher circumstances thanI anticipated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Starring down a gun barrel, watching Alex disappear underneath that truck, bailing into dirt ditches; these were all things I wouldn’t volunteer for ever again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I literally waded through piss and shit to escape something I threw myself into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But having come out in one piece, I stand proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a slight remorse that I did nothing charitable while confronting such horrible living conditions most of the way down here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact is there just wasn’t time or money to make a worthwhile impact.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Volunteering and small donations are important and I commend anyone who takes part, but I think my next few decades will be better spent understanding the root issues and working to make a much more dramatic impact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rather than donate my under-utilized time slapping mud bricks together, I think I’d prefer to go make a million dollars and throw a hundred thousand into the solution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless, I now know there are bigger problems in the world than Seattle traffic and partisan politics; I won’t forget that as I continue on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m no longer worried about answering the big question ‘what are you going to do when you get back?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have one set plan right now, but I’ve got heaps of short-term and long-term ideas and projects to get me where I want to be in ten years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of them involve getting rich, some just finding a happy place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This trip has given me a lot of perspective; taught me a lot about what I need to be satisfied and which aspects of life matter the most.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My eyes are opened to a lot more options with parameters expanded far beyond where they started out eight months ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I plan to wander to a degree, but still in a progressive direction, never backpedaling or treading water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where and what are just the details.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing’s decided, but I’m going to hit the ground running and make the rest of my twenties count for a lot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Countless people have warned me that when I go home I’ll have changed dramatically, but home will be exactly the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To that I say damn straight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Home was pretty awesome as I remember it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want to leave; I had to so that I could come back and stop wondering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I plan to settle in quite nicely and pull up stumps for a while, indulging in the comfort of something constant and familiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s not to say that I’ll stay either; there are high paying jobs and big opportunities elsewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the Pacific Northwest will always be home, I have no doubt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">By the time this is published the ball will already be rolling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bike is crated and on a boat steaming for Seattle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I land in Vancouver, BC on Tuesday after a sixteen hour flight that took me nine months to accomplish overland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The process of returning home happened fast, even though I’ve been planning these dates for the last two months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I said, I felt like there was nothing left to prove once I made it to Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had my eyes on the future, I had an appreciation for home, and a confidence that I wanted to take home use to my advantage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d seen enough.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was also getting tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since Argentina there’s been an overwhelming feeling that I’m pushing my luck every time I mount the bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There have been a lot of instances on this ride where I threaded a needle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Chas warned back in Baja, motorcycles really do come down to milliseconds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ride cautiously, but after 20,000 miles I’ve had my share of encounters that left me praying to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve come within feet of flying off cliffs when I couldn’t make the turn, often ending up in the oncoming lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve locked up my rear tire at 60mph inches from the rear bumper of a slow moving car after I came up on it way too fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would have gone over my handlebars hitting a baby llama in Peru if the stupid animal hadn’t tripped in its terror darting across the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These, and hundreds more, were mistakes that I decided not to mention in previous reports.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then throw in all the other maniacs crowding the road driving even more dangerously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day I cheated death, and my nerves are a little fried from it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Santiago I saw a window where I could escape with my health and no regrets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The only nagging doubt was that I could have gone to Ushuaia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve stated many times that I wasn’t set on it, but when Charlie proposed my flight down there to meet him it was too easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The second night in Ushuaia we started contacting shipping agents and scheduling our departure from South America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having seen everything I was on a mission to get home for Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie had to get to LA by January 4<sup>th</sup> to meet his mom and was in a similar mental state as I; we both decided to drop Andrew off on the 13<sup>th</sup> and immediately head to Valparaiso to ship the bikes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My reports have been more infrequent lately for a lot of reasons, mostly because my heart has been at home for much of the last two months rather than on the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last few weeks have been especially quiet though as this return was a surprise to a lot of people in my inner circle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not a good liar, so I just stopped writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Villa Kunterbunt, our hostel/shipping agent in Valparaiso, did an excellent job organizing the shipment home for the bike as well as crating it up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to say I’m pretty pissed that my bike broke down and had to be towed the final 20 miles of a 20,000 mile trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone dreams of dropping that kickstand at the dock at the very end of the trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lowered mine out of a pickup at the port.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh well, it’s out of my hands now and should be running within days of when I get it home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We met a real cool guy in the hostel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His name was Bill and he was born in Portland and now lives in Western Australia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instantly Charlie and I both had a strong connection to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bill is driving a thirty year-old VW Synchro van throughout South America and presumably as far as he wants after that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The van was super cool with all the important adventure upgrades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a good night with Bill around the barbeque.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had some amazing stories and ideas, someone I learned a lot from over just a few beers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After four nights in Valparaiso taking care of the bikes, Charlie and I took a bus back to Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, Sunday, Charlie flew to LA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I depart on Tuesday for Vancouver where Alex will pick me up at the airport and drop me off at home to a very surprised family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The party’s not over, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie and I have been brewing a lot more than just getting out of here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day after he arrives in LA Charlie will be picking up a German friend named Nina, whom we met in Lima.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From there they will take four days to drive up I-5 and celebrate Christmas morning with the Reuters!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie and Nina will spend a few days in the Pacific Northwest with Alex and me and then drive back to LA to meet his mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Overall I think this story has sewn itself up quite nicely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This will be the last report for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someday I’ll do another motorcycle trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will be for a shorter time and I’ll focus more on the riding and less on the partying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t regret the partying at all; at 24, I’m the youngest person on a bike I’ve met all trip and I’ve had an absolute kickass time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the next installment, though, I think I’ll be more into early starts and eating miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until then thanks for reading and go read Alex’s ride report if you haven’t already.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His trip was different but just as wild.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure he and I will have some new scheme cooking by the time we pull into Lake Stevens on Tuesday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now as I fly out, everyone hum the Indiana Jones theme in your heads and imagine that little red line stretching across the tattered brown map from Santiago to Seattle with the 747 fading into view in the skies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m going home.</span></div>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-14166150627169455442011-12-16T17:54:00.000-08:002011-12-16T17:57:18.633-08:00Back in the Saddle (barely)It's been a busy week since Bariloche. Andrew and Charlie and I left Argentina and drove to Pucon, Chile last Friday. It was a tame ride with occasional dirt and plenty of ash. At one point we drove 20 miles off-course to go see the spewing volcano. As we should have expected, though, all we could see was ash in every direction. We were definitely close. The border crossing was simple and 30 miles beyond that was Pucon.<br />
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Pucon is a very nice ski town tucked in the foothills at the base of Mt. Villarica, yet another smoldering volcano down here. We spent three nights in a posh cabin just off the main street. For the first time since Mazatlan I had my own room. With Andrew's trip near the end we were all in the mood to hang low and relax. We did take a drive up a 4x4 track on Saturday, but were forced to turn around when we came to a bridge haphazardly made out of four logs. No need to push our luck in a rental car. Pucon is another place I'd love to come back to. It's a bit ritzy, but small enough to feel inviting. A ski hill on a volcano is a new one for me as well.<br />
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Monday we made the final 800k push up to Santiago and parked up at the usual hostel for the night. That evening we cleaned out the Hilux and dropped it back off at the rental dealer. They weren't happy to see that the truck had 9,000 new kilometers on it over the past month. Or that we hadn't cleaned the exterior. But as we all agreed, for the amount they charged for the rental, those are all their problems. The inspector signed off on its condition and with that we went back to the hostel for a few beers. It was quite a relief to get rid of that responsibility.<br />
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Tuesday morning Charlie and I had plans to go back to Valparaiso. There is a shipping agent there and we needed details on what it will take to eventually get these bikes home. There's always been the option of selling to another traveler down here, but the coordination involved has never appealed to me. The whole point of this trip was to plan nothing and work around nobody. Plus, more than anything, I like the bike and I can afford to send it home. Fifty years from now it might be a cool antique to have sitting in the garage, a time capsule of memories. When we went to leave in the morning our hostel reception had disappointing news. The only garage key was with the owner across town during rush hour. We waited two hours for the key to show up; long enough to develop quite a short temper.<br />
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Valparaiso is only an hour and a half from Santiago. Charlie and I hit the freeway at 11:00am, both of us feeling very exposed on the bikes after a month off of them. We rode timidly, still making good time. My bike was cruising real smooth down the freeway although backfiring once in a while when I let off the throttle. Thirty miles from Valparaiso the engine cut out as I was gearing down to stop for a toll booth. It seemed like it was flooded and after a few minutes poking around with the carb and the choke I had it running again. I was a little aggravated considering the amount of money I just poured into the bike.<br />
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Ten miles after that I was cruising at 75mph and the engine again cut out the second I rolled off the throttle after passing a truck. I coasted to the shoulder and pulled out my tool set. I went through every part of the engine which I understand and didn't find any problems. So with nothing better to do I took the seat and tank off and changed the spark plugs. The whole operation took a half hour and with the new plugs in the engine turned right over as if nothing had ever gone wrong. I was going to be very disappointed with myself if spark plugs had been the underlying issue for my last few weeks of developing engine issues.<br />
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As it turned out spark plugs weren't the case either. One mile further down the freeway I was back on the shoulder. I think I scared some nearby Chileans with the amount of profanity that spilled out my mouth when I first dismounted. I never got the bike back running. Charlie and I were both out of ideas so we walked it to the tire shack down the street and found a guy with a truck to take it the last fifteen miles into town.<br />
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So that's where we're at now. Back in Valparaiso a month later and not much has changed. We're staying at the hostel that specializes in motorcycle shipping and arranging transport early in the next month. In the meantime I've got plenty of motorcyclists coming through every day to help me get the bike running again. I think I'll start with the carb and work my way towards the fuel tank. First I need to charge my battery; it's barely there after begging the electric starter to get it chugging so many times. <br />
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<br />Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-29631226147375506352011-12-08T11:44:00.001-08:002011-12-08T12:36:10.728-08:00Fotos XI From Ushuaia the Hamersley bros and I drove north for thirty hours
straight to Bariloche, Argentina. It was a 2,200 kilometer trip with
two border crossings and a ferry. We took a three hour nap in the
middle of the night on the side of the road and rolled into town at
noon. It was tiring, but we saved a day and woke up in paradise.
Bariloche is paradise. All those Caribbean beaches and palm trees were
nice, but Bariloche is home away from home. It's a mountainous area
covered in evergreens with vast lakes at the bottom of every valley.
The mountains remind me of Colorado, the trees of Washington, and the
lakes of Wisconsin. I'm certain I'll own property here one day.<br />
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pulled up in a cabin on one of the lakes and have been relaxing for the
last two nights. Bariloche is a big tourist getaway but it's having a
rough season due to a nearby volcano in Chile that has covered the city
in ash for the past six months. The snow caps are all brown and the sky
is usually hazy. There is ash piled up on the shoulder like sand.
From the few clear moments we've had I can say it's the most beautiful
place in the world. There's a ski hill in town for the winter and
turquoise water in every direction for the summer. I could go on and
on, but I'd be wasting precious time here. In the meantime, here are
some late photos.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qw5DG7eoGMI/TuET4y6JZBI/AAAAAAAAAOw/ZUTBNicF2Aw/s1600/Argentina+179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qw5DG7eoGMI/TuET4y6JZBI/AAAAAAAAAOw/ZUTBNicF2Aw/s640/Argentina+179.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the Andes from Mendoza to Santiago. Feels like a long time ago now.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4br90-Q9SjU/TuEUDGFXVVI/AAAAAAAAAO4/E7jFUWn4dXc/s1600/Argentina+181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4br90-Q9SjU/TuEUDGFXVVI/AAAAAAAAAO4/E7jFUWn4dXc/s640/Argentina+181.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pulled up on one of the 23 switchbacks for this shot. There are ski lines everywhere around here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wSjLuMqYqrA/TuEU2gGyNPI/AAAAAAAAAPo/ug5-PmT_Ss4/s1600/Mom+Week+1+134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wSjLuMqYqrA/TuEU2gGyNPI/AAAAAAAAAPo/ug5-PmT_Ss4/s640/Mom+Week+1+134.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom at Mendoza's nicest park. There's a rowing club on the lake.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GD-lScthR8o/TuEU7GP3qYI/AAAAAAAAAPw/KxHIrbdnSw8/s1600/Mom+Week+1+192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GD-lScthR8o/TuEU7GP3qYI/AAAAAAAAAPw/KxHIrbdnSw8/s640/Mom+Week+1+192.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We got swindled into posing with tango dancers, but this picture may have been worth it.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-toIdKyAF5uU/TuEU_RW9XGI/AAAAAAAAAP4/WblVCvW_d58/s1600/Mom+Week+1+203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-toIdKyAF5uU/TuEU_RW9XGI/AAAAAAAAAP4/WblVCvW_d58/s640/Mom+Week+1+203.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nature reserve in Buenos Aires. Just beyond it is the Atlantic.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y3Ytsmw9nAQ/TuEVCxpIDII/AAAAAAAAAQA/6p5XpXq0Crc/s1600/Mom+Week+1+211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y3Ytsmw9nAQ/TuEVCxpIDII/AAAAAAAAAQA/6p5XpXq0Crc/s640/Mom+Week+1+211.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking out across the BA marina.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e3Gux1xvVEo/TuEVGfl_nBI/AAAAAAAAAQI/BmcN0f9yUdg/s1600/Mom+Week+1+250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e3Gux1xvVEo/TuEVGfl_nBI/AAAAAAAAAQI/BmcN0f9yUdg/s640/Mom+Week+1+250.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never mentioned the Buenos Aires cemetery, but it was amazing. Every grave was a miniature cathedral.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B3k2DTldrD0/TuEVJlC9onI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/79Uq7jTHu7s/s1600/Mom+Week+1+290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B3k2DTldrD0/TuEVJlC9onI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/79Uq7jTHu7s/s640/Mom+Week+1+290.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Congress in Buenos Aires. One of many buildings just as grand.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ece1Tz0ZzI0/TuEUvYhod0I/AAAAAAAAAPg/k0mh0r1H-b4/s1600/Mom+Week+1+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ece1Tz0ZzI0/TuEUvYhod0I/AAAAAAAAAPg/k0mh0r1H-b4/s640/Mom+Week+1+038.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the fish market in Santiago just before Mom flew home.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VFQUSmZBH7E/TuEUMv1apQI/AAAAAAAAAPA/o1MxWdmHYTU/s1600/Hilux+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VFQUSmZBH7E/TuEUMv1apQI/AAAAAAAAAPA/o1MxWdmHYTU/s640/Hilux+007.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Andrew in Ushuaia. Can you tell they're brothers?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zgODYgNZNXk/TuEUVzmm_5I/AAAAAAAAAPI/fIvTVBz-k3s/s1600/Hilux+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zgODYgNZNXk/TuEUVzmm_5I/AAAAAAAAAPI/fIvTVBz-k3s/s640/Hilux+008.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proof that we made it to Ushuaia. If they sold the Hilux at home, it would be my first purchase when I got back.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HgAjAJlIAak/TuEUfznT0eI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/91U0I30tFPY/s1600/Hilux+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HgAjAJlIAak/TuEUfznT0eI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/91U0I30tFPY/s640/Hilux+012.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our cabin in Bariloche. Right now I can't even see across the lake due to ash.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Iks2d3N__0k/TuEUqn04euI/AAAAAAAAAPY/5Fww2orDMyw/s1600/Hilux+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Iks2d3N__0k/TuEUqn04euI/AAAAAAAAAPY/5Fww2orDMyw/s640/Hilux+018.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie and me looking back on our cabin.</td></tr>
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One more night here in Bariloche and then we head north to Pucon, Chile for a couple more nights. Then it's a one-day drive to Santiago where Andrew flies home and Charlie and I pick up the bikes. Hard to say what happens after that. We're working on it right now.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-87438425877629907982011-12-03T09:23:00.001-08:002011-12-03T11:02:30.399-08:00End of the RoadAfter eight months of riding and a three and half hour flight I've finally hit the end of the line: Ushuaia. It's been a great few days getting down here from Santiago. I had two nights to kill after Mom left and I spent the entire time either at Subway or right next to the wireless router at my hostel. I downloaded about 15 gigs of entertainment in two days, enough to keep me going for the duration of the trip. I also took the bike back to Suzuki on Tuesday and had them install a new horn. I laughed out loud when they brought it out; it's all chrome with red detailing and about twice the size as my previous. Probably came off a Grand Vitara. They had it installed in fifteen minutes and it is loud. There will be no missing me on the road from here on out. I plan to honk it as often as possible to make up for lost noise pollution.<br />
<br />
Thursday my flight took off early afternoon. I was chomping at the bit, so excited to get south and continue the journey with my mates. It was great having Mom down, and good to have her familiarity around for two weeks. I left the bike parked next to Charlie's at the hostel, sparkling new for when I get back. My only regret about this part of the trip was missing Torres del Paine. The Aussie's had just spent the last three days hiking and horseback riding through the park. Charlie's pictures on facebook looked incredible. Regardless, you can't see it all, and I haven't. The boys would pick me up in Punta Arenas and we'd head south for Ushuaia from there.<br />
<br />
As luck would have it, though, the skies were crystal clear all afternoon and our pilot decided to fly right over the most recognizable mountain in Patagonia with my window looking out across it. It was an incredibly exhilarating moment when I peaked up from my movie only to see one of the most alien peaks in the world just below me. The jagged teeth of Torres del Paine were just as incredible as I had imagined, each spire it's own monolith. It just hung below for about ten minutes while a stared out the window in disbelief. Just south was Glacier Grey, one of the classic ice superhighways that fill an entire valley. I got to see it all from 20,000 feet. A view money can't buy. Luck I never imagined to hope for. The Aussies had to hike in 15 miles to see the peaks; it probably meant more to them, but I was plenty smitten. Just south of Torres del Paine the Andes petered out for the first time since Colombia and we touched down half an hour later.<br />
<br />
Charlie, Andrew, and Greg picked me up in the Hilux right on time and with that we went into town. The boys already had a room set up and within minutes of dropping my bag on the floor we were into the boxed wine. It pretty quickly turned into a fast night and the very end found us all in the local casino together. Andrew and Greg were up big while Charlie and I were reminiscing about the trip and discussing the endless options for the next one. I would have loved to have slept in until about 3:00pm the next day, but somehow we all managed to pile into the truck by 9:00am. Punta Arenas had a tsunami drill scheduled for Friday and if we weren't out of town by 10:00am they'd force us to participate. Just before we pulled out Greg decided to stay behind. His return flight is from Santiago in a couple days and he decided Punta Arenas was his best bet on actually getting back there. We said goodbye and got out before the fake wave washed us all away.<br />
<br />
It was 180 miserable kilometers to the ferry landing we had to catch. Heading off along the shore on the way out Charlie spotted some ice burgs. They really do exist. We ended up waiting there for two hours when a semi broke down coming up the ramp off the ferry. It took two other semis strung up like a train to pull him out. After the twenty minute passage we arrived in Tierra del Fuego. I didn't really have any expectations for Tierra del Fuego, but I was still surprised to see that it's a desolate wind-swept prairie full of sparse, dry, dead looking vegetation. We continued south through a lot of sheep herds and eventually crossed back into Argentina. From there it was another 300k to Ushuaia. The Argentina section turned was beautiful. The southern tip is home to a small mountain range. It's full of waterfalls, rivers, and lakes. Very colorful and a mountaineer's dream. It reminded me a lot of Alaska, which make perfect sense. It's actually a perfect contrast to my Alaskan winter in Fairbanks exactly one year ago. Instead of three hours of daylight, we're getting three hours of darkness down here. I'm really glad someone else is up there driving the ice roads right now instead of me. That was a good place to make money, this is a better place to spend it.<br />
<br />
We pulled into Ushuaia at 9:00pm in broad daylight, found a hotel, and crashed real hard real fast. It had been a long day after a long night. If it weren't for the sun staying up, I doubt we would have had the energy to make it. Ushuaia is nothing like I imagined. I expected hard, dirty port city at the end of a windy spit. Instead it's tucked in the shadow of the mountains behind it and surrounded with greenery. The place is teeming with tourism and in the daytime it's warm enough to get around in jeans and a tee shirt. This morning the three of us went out and toured the main streets. There's a lot to do here. Helicopter flights, penguin tours, trips to Antarctica. For me though, just being here will be enough. The place isn't cheap and neither is the entertainment. After eight months of adventure though, the idea of paying for a good time is kind of lost on me. Charlie and I long ago distinguished ourselves as separate from the tourists. Cramming into a tour van with ten of them and hearing about the unbelievable first five days of their two week vacation would make my ears bleed.<br />
<br />
Andrew flies out on the 13th from Santiago which means we can't stay long. It's a shame because Ushuaia is wonderful. It's one of only a handful of places in the last eight months that enchants me. All the other big cities are nice, but once you've seen the colonial town center, the market and a couple bars, they all start to feel the same. Ushuaia is raw though, completely different. You feel adventurous just waking up here. The similarities to how I felt in Alaska are overwhelming. You don't have to look at a map to know you're at the ends of the Earth.<br />
<br />
The drive back north will be a long one. We plan to head through El Bolson and Bariloche on the way. We're planning on two monstrous days behind the wheel to get up there and then a few more to get all the way. I do wish I had brought the bike down here. There's a slight sense that I left something unfinished, more like left something behind. But truthfully I was sick and tired of the ride for a while there and finally I can appreciate it again. If you ask Charlie, the wind and rain the whole way down would have only broken my spirits further. And I didn't start in Prudhoe Bay on the bike either. I flew from Fairbanks to Seattle, rode a bike 20,000 miles to Santiago, and flew to Ushuaia. It's nearly a mirror image in both hemispheres. Pole to pole in twelve months; good enough for me. I think anywhere I go from now on I'll wish I had that bike. Every time I step on an airplane I'll be wondering how many days it would take to ride to the destination. That's the feeling I want to be here with. The bike is the most beautiful method of transportation I've ever encountered.<br />
<br />
Today Alex starts a twenty-hour trip home from Buenos Aires, not something I'm looking forward to. We had a good Skype chat from Santiago and can't wait to hit the road together back in Seattle on the first clear day. I want to thank everyone for all the comments so far, especially Chief and Rich; it's a good reminder how far I've come. It's hard to wrap my head around, but tomorrow I head north... for the first time in over a year.Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-50267464442723991652011-11-28T18:46:00.001-08:002011-11-28T19:52:44.470-08:00By Land, by Sea...Today Mom and I got back from Pichilemu and the first thing I did was run to Suzuki and pick up my best friend. It had been nearly two weeks since we'd last held each other and I was getting antsy. I rocked up to find my bike sitting where I last saw it, clean as a whistle. The chain looked brand new, the cables slid smoothly, the shock actually absorbed. My mechanic had me start it up; like always it puffed to life on the fourth turn, this time with a healthier ring to it. We went through all the work that was done to it and they managed to fix everything but the horn, which needs a replacement. I've been riding without a horn since Mexico. Stupid, I know, but hey... I made it. The horn is in stock and they just needed my approval to install it so I'm bringing it back tomorrow to have it replaced. The total bill was $250. It stings a little, but it was time and when I pulled out of the lot I knew it was money well spent. My engine finally rolls on and off just as my throttle dictates. All the creaks and groans are gone. Most of all, it has that seal of a professional mechanic's approval that makes me sleep easy at night. I know there's a bunch of gearheads out there pulling their hair out thinking I just wasted a quarter grand, but I didn't have the tools, time, or patience to do what the dealership did. It's money spent, and I'm a satisfied customer.<br />
<br />
Then this evening I got online and bought myself a one-way plane ticket to Tierra del Fuego. All that talk and fretting about Patagonia and riding solo and how to get there vanished the second I chatted with Charlie online. The Hamersley brothers and Greg are in Torres del Paine National Park and they're heading for Ushuaia, the southernmost city in South America. Charlie told me that the last two weeks heading south in the Hilux had been rainy and windy all the way down. And then he told me that his brother Andrew wanted to pay half my flight to come join them for the ride back up. This trip has toughened me, but I'm no glutton for punishment. And after last winter driving truck in Fairbanks, AK I've got nothing to prove. I know what cold and wet is like; it sucks. <br />
<br />
So with very little deliberation I booked a flight to Punta Arenas, Chile for Thursday afternoon. The boys will pick me up in the Hilux, which is fully equiped with heating, air conditioning, radio, windshield wipers and a locking waterproof cab. Australians know how to travel. From what I've gathered we'll head south to Ushuaia and then make our way back up through Patagonia on the Argentina side hitting El Bolson and Bariloche as well as the HU meeting in Viedma. Basically I get to see everything I've regretted doubting without the hassel of 5,000 more tough miles on the bike. <br />
<br />
At the start of the trip I would have scoffed at the idea of getting on a plane. On this trip you get the mindset that it doesn't count if you didn't ride there. Now, though, I could care less. Like I said, I've got nothing to prove anymore. I still love the ride, but there's no reason to make it difficult. Alex rode thirty miles on a flat tire the other day. I'm sure he's somehow better off for it, but that kind of adventure just doesn't sound fun anymore after eight months. I've pushed my luck through plenty since Seattle; continuing this break from the bike is a welcome opportunity. The DR will rest two more weeks while I take the plush ride back north in the Hilux. From there Charlie and I will have a little more time to ride together before figuring out the next step.<br />
<br />
The last few days I've been watching 'Long Way Round' with Ewan McGregor and Charlie Boorman. I used to diss these guys and their film since they beat us to it and stole our thunder. Now that I've seen it though, it turns out they're just badasses who blazed the trail and went through a lot of the same hardship I've seen. I recommend the show to anyone after the impact it's had on me in the last few days. It made me a lot more appreciative to be out here where I am; excited to meet the guys at this big HU meeting too. It's nice to see other people change their plans and end up just as satisfied in the end.<br />
<br />
Ideally I would have made it to Ushuaia on the bike. Ideally I'd go around the world on the bike; that was the original plan anyway. But this is an adventure and ideals don't count for much. As I see it I'm lucky to have made it this far and even luckier to have mates who want to pick me up in a 4x4 down there. Not to mention bombing around Patagonia with three Western Australians will be an absolute riot. That's the news. Thursday I take to the skies. Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-5688954019493885452011-11-24T13:56:00.001-08:002011-11-24T15:08:11.510-08:00Good WindsThings are really shaking out and shaping up these days. Mom and I knocked off Mendoza and Buenos Aires and are now settled back in Uspallata for the next two nights. She's got under one week left down here and after that I will be on my own for the foreseeable future. <br />
<br />
Two nights in Mendoza was plenty, especially after I had slouched around there for most of a week already. Friday we took a tour through the wine region visiting two wineries and one olive oil factory. The wine was good, I even appreciated it, but I'll still take a micro brew any day. That evening we came back, had a meal, and hit the sack. Saturday was mostly stuck in limbo. Our overnight bus to Buenos Aires didn't leave until 7:00pm and the hotel kicked us out at 10:00am. We spent most of the morning wandering around town looking at ski shops and touring the big shopping centers. In the afternoon we walked out to Mendoza's massive park on the northern side of town. It was a fantastic spot with a lake, a zoo, and plenty of green trails. When our feet finally gave out we wandered back to town for McDonald's and then hopped in a cab to the bus station.<br />
<br />
I had dreaded riding the bus up until this point. Stepping onto a bus feels like getting neutered after eight months on a motorcycle. Worst of all is being on someone else' schedule. I remember some jerk at a hostel giving Charlie and me shit for leaving late one morning after we said we'd be gone before sunrise. Charlie looked at him smiling and said 'that's the beauty of bringing your own transportation... it leaves when you're ready!' And vroom, we left him in the dust. <br />
<br />
Saturday's bus turned out to be quite a plush ride, though. Mom and I had the front seats on the second floor. Perfect for viewing the driver's insanity. They were leather recliners, bigger than airline first class. We were also the only people on the second floor. There were probably five passengers total the whole night. The waitress served us a hot meal, two cups of wine, and then a nightcap of whiskey on the rocks. I put my feet up on the window and watched the miles tick by, indulging in someone else finally doing the driving. Sunday morning I woke up still pretty tired, but finally in Buenos Aires. <br />
<br />
I knew the city was big. At thirteen million souls it's the second biggest in South America. Buenos Aires is huge, though. Not only is the entire metropolis expansive, the downtown itself must be the size of Seattle. The 'tourist area' stretches for miles in every direction. Mom and I ended up in the San Telmo bohemian district. Lot's of old architecture for her to crane over and plenty of entertainment to go around. Of course our hotel couldn't check us in at 8:00am on Sunday so the first thing we did was to go Plaza de Mayo, the biggest plaza in town. Each side of Plaza de Mayo is adorned with monstrous buildings that look like they belong in Rome or Florence or Barcelona. I walked into Casa Rosada and marveled at it's art collection and looming ceilings. The National Bank building was bigger than a stadium. And the Catholic church was greater than any I'd seen in Europe. Columns, arches, statues, gargoyles, it's all there. The streets jut out from the plaza in a spoke and hub formation so looking West from the plaza you can look down two at the same time. The magnificent buildings continue as far as the eye can see, each one trumping the next. It looked like a movie set; like I'd get a block down the street and then walk into a big blue wall with clouds painted on it. After coming through Quito, Lima, Cusco, and La Paz (all of which were built of cinder block and rebar), Buenos Aires is heaven on earth.<br />
<br />
As soon as the room was ready I checked in and took a nap. Mom still had tourist exuberance, but I've been doing this eight months and I needed my beauty sleep. She went to a flea market while I took a nap. That night we drank plenty of wine over a nice steak dinner and got to bed pretty late; we're on local time now. Monday we were determined to see the city so we hired another bus tour. This tour was cheaper and more reliable. Still not my favorite activity being at the mercy of a bus company, but it wasn't too bad. We saw all the neighborhoods, most notably La Boca and Palermo. La Boca is cute and antique looking, but very touristy. After ten minutes of sleazy street solicitors I was ready to leave. Palermo was a good distance away and has a distinct feel to it. A little more upscale and clean than San Telmo, but not overrun with business either. I liked it over there and never got to see enough of it. At the end of the tour we were exhausted. We probably walked five miles that day skipping the bus ride between certain stops. Another steak and a few more bottles of wine did us in.<br />
<br />
Tuesday I was tired of the tourist sprint. I went out with mom to visit the last of the 'must-sees' in the morning. These were congress, the theater, and the subway. Congress and the theater were both inspiring. Buenos Aires is unique in that there are plazas every few blocks and each one has an architectural masterpiece presiding over it. And the surrounding buildings are impressive in their own right with intricate balconies and stonework leading eight stories up. It's desensitizing. With those out of the way I had seen enough. Eddie and Lizzie were coming into town that evening and I didn't want to crash beforehand. I went home and took a nap while Mom took a Tango lesson. She loved it.<br />
<br />
That evening we both went over to Eddie and Lizzie's hostel and together we all put down some drinks. Then Mom and I went out for steak; we finished dinner around 11:30pm so she went to bed and I went back to the hostel. This was my last night with Eddie and Lizzie. Mom and I were scheduled to bus back to Mendoza the next evening and within two weeks the Aussies will be off touring Europe. So I had to make it count... and I did. It was a great sendoff from those guys and I'll miss their company. Regardless, I'll be seeing them again soon somewhere around the globe. I wandered back to my hotel at 5:00am and crashed hard until 10:00am for checkout. I managed to wake up with the shits and a crook stomach much to my own undoing. Luckily the hotel gave us a very extended checkout and a few hours later I was able to walk normal and hold liquids. Part of it was obviously a hangover, but Mom was crook all day too, so I was apparently waging war on two fronts.<br />
<br />
Wednesday the only thing I got done was dropping off Al's shock at a nearby hostel for him to pickup and getting us to the bus station. Alex won't be to BA until Saturday, so sadly we won't be seeing each other again until we're both stateside. He's selling his bike to a committed buyer in Buenos Aires and then shipping out early December. Meanwhile Charlie still has three weeks with Andrew and Greg; he also has made plans with his mom to meed in LA early January. I haven't gotten details out of him yet, but I would imagine he'll start the shipping process real quick once he gets back to Santiago if he plans to leave the continent three weeks after in the height of Christmas season. Ty and Jill are out of the picture and living happily ever after. So that leaves me and my bike and a whole lot of opportunity down here. <br />
<br />
There's a Horizons Unlimited meeting in Viedma, Argentina starting
December 8th. Horizons Unlimited is the most respected adventure travel website around. At this meeting I would find scores of bikers heading in all directions. Plenty of stories and inspiration. Viedma is 1,000 miles from Santiago and I'd have one week
to get there. It's well within the realm of possibility and is
starting to look like a brilliant option for me. Before I commit to anything I want to hear Charlie's plans though. We've been on the road for months now and it would be blast to knock out one last leg together. I might even link up with him and his mates depending on where they are.<br />
<br />
Like the last eight months my future's all up in the air right now, although it's finally starting to come into focus. I've decided I'll be coming home in January, the earlier the better. I want to give it just three more weeks and see Patagonia before I go home, but with Christmas prices eliminating the prospect of air travel for me, I'll just ride a little further and kill some time in my tent down there. One last push on a well-tuned bike in the decency of Argentina and Chile under one of the world's most amazing backdrops. I'm expecting a lot of distance and solitude. However it unfolds, it will be enlightening, a solid end to such a liberating adventure.Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-8498039929165747652011-11-17T18:46:00.001-08:002011-11-17T19:50:49.316-08:00Family ReunionThe trip was instantly jammed back into fifth gear with Mom's arrival on Tuesday. The past two or three weeks in Argentina and Chile I had worked myself into a very leisurely 2:00am to 11:00am sleep schedule with nothing but coffee and calories during the daytime. I was getting nothing done and loving it. Tuesday morning that all changed; now I'm trying to keep up with her bright-eyed bushy-tail enthusiasm for travel for the next two weeks, something Charlie and I gave up long ago. It's not a bad change, just a lot more to take in.<br />
<br />
Monday night I convinced Charlie to come out for 'a beer' at the Irish pub in Santiago's Bellavista district. The Packers were playing the Vikings; enough said. My eyes were glued to the screen the entire evening while Charlie practiced his Tony Soprano accent on a girl from New York. 'A beer' turned into several pitchers and by the time the game ended at 2:00am we reluctantly decided to turn in. <br />
<br />
It's a good thing we did; at 7:30am we were awoken by the local car rental company. Charlie had hired a Toyota Hilux 4x4 the day before and they decided to deliver it and have us fill out paperwork at the ass crack of dawn the next day. By the time it was all filled out we barely made it to the airport for my mom's arrival. Nevertheless, we were there, nursing coffees at the international arrival gate at 10:00am. After an hour's wait Mom finally popped through the exit and gave me a big hug. Neither of us got emotional, but I was sure glad to see her. We all hopped in the Hilux and Charlie drove us home. <br />
<br />
Back at the hostel we dropped Mom's luggage and immediately went out for lunch. It was a greasy meal, just what we all needed. Afterward she and I checked into our rented apartment and Charlie drove off for a much-needed nap. Tuesday afternoon Mom and I walked around Bellavista and took the Funicular (tram) up to the top of the hill to get a 360 degree view of Santiago. It's a beautiful city from any angle. On top is a religious sanctuary celebrating the city's 450 years of existence.<br />
<br />
We took a break after that for the afternoon but in the meantime I rode my bike over to the Suzuki dealership just two blocks away and pulled out my laundry list of repairs: clean gas tank, clean carb, clean chain, clean the rest of it, lubricate cables, lubricate swing arm, lubricate all other moving parts, new fuel filter, new air filter molding, replace shock, replace leaking hoses, replace anything else broken, missing, or failing. And while you're at it, fix my horn. I think there was even more, but that was the meat of the work order. The technician looked at the 25,000 miles on the odometer and understood. In the end I said I wanted it to be like new again, and he nodded and smiled. I was confident in him; when I pulled up he was in the middle of putting together a brand new DR650 right out of the crate. There were three others still boxed up beside it. Finally a professional!<br />
<br />
That evening Mom and I went downtown to see Santiago's Plaza de Armas in the evening. It was all pretty mundane to me, but she had the camera on quick draw the entire time. Around 9:00pm we both got real tired so we smashed some Chinese food, boxed the leftovers, and walked back to the apartment. We both slept about ten hours that night and were up late morning on Wednesday to see the rest of the city. We had picked up some groceries and did a brunch in the apartment before leaving. <br />
<br />
Since before she arrived Mom wanted to take a bus tour of the city, so the first thing we did was buy tickets and hop on. The Turistik bus line was a good way to see the whole city, but in hindsight it was a complete ripoff. The draw of the scam is that the loop route has thirteen stops and you can hop off whenever you want. You tour the stop on your own and then wait for the next Turistik bus to come along, guaranteed every thirty minutes. What I didn't realize until we got on was that the first seven stops are all within a half hour's walk of each other. And that the other six were gems such as the mall, the shittier mall, and even the Sheraton Hotel. Of course the buses didn't show up on time once either. I could have done the entire route on foot with a pair of cab rides in half the time. Having come all this way via motorcycle, it was very hard for me to resign my schedule to a tourism trap. But Mom enjoyed it and I'll admit there were some cool things out there that I wouldn't have seen otherwise. <br />
<br />
By the time we completed the loop we were both beat and went back to the apartment for a siesta. On the way I stopped at the mechanic's shop to check out his progress. It was all good news; he was halfway done and everything was coming along very well. While cleaning the carb he found a big blockage on the interior filter of my main fuel intake. I know that's actually bad news, but it's great to hear that it's gone. He didn't seem to worried about it and was pretty positive about the rest of the bike's condition. When I left he was pressure washing the engine with a soapy mixture. They're taking 'like-new' very seriously. This stop in the garage might cost me a bit, but it's money well-spent. The garage is also going to park it for free for the next two weeks while I'm out of town.<br />
<br />
<br />Charlie spent Wednesday picking up his brother Andrew and friend Greg at the airport and helping them settle in. That night we all met at the Irish pub and the Hamersley's put on a show with the help of a lot of red wine. It was another 2:00am performance and at the end it was me dragging my mother out of the bar. Charlie, Andrew and Greg were all heading south in the Hilux Thursday morning at it was agreed that we'd catch up again soon before the trip is over. With that we shook hands and went our separate ways. Since the Aussie boys are here for an entire month, I hope to catch up with them once Mom flies out and get in on some of the shenanigans. Judging by their stories from Thailand together, it will be raucous.<br />
<br />
Today Mom and I got up, checked out, and hopped on a bus for Mendoza. It was seven hours including a lengthy stop at customs. Mom enjoyed it a lot more given that I've done most of that ride twice already. Still, crossing the Andes, is always pretty cool. We got a five second window where Aconcagua was in perfect view and the rest of the time just marveled at the ski lifts and cliff faces everywhere. Now we're in Mendoza with bellies full of steak. Booked in for two nights here and on Saturday the plan is to overnight to Buenos Aires. With luck the reunion will continue in BA with Alex as the headliner. He's finally free and probably in La Paz right now. Expect some high fives.Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-18694614136463603462011-11-12T12:55:00.001-08:002011-11-12T14:01:16.269-08:00Looking ForwardI talked to my friend Ryan via Skype the other day and he asked me a good question. 'So you're in Chile right, I mean you've pretty much made it all the way.' It's a good point, something that I haven't been able to really wrap my head around for the last month. All that time in Central America and even down through Peru almost seems like a different life now. I've been living in the moment for so long that it's hard to look back and take in how far I've come. Or to look forward and figure out what's next. At least for the next two weeks it's pretty simple: vacation with Mom. <br />
<br />
Charlie and I are back on our own. We arrived in Santaigo last night with a great sense of relief. The plan was to meet Allerick and Jina for a farewell dinner, but facebook failed us and they are probably touching down in LA at this moment to continue their trip. Eddie and Lizzie went south and I'll probably catch up in Buenos Aires in late November. It was great fun traveling as a gang of six, but the tandem team has its advantages too. Charlie and I have a lot of motorcycle specific needs when it comes to travel and accomadation. And spending the last two weeks with two sets of lovers was starting to feel like a lesson in couples therapy. Charlie and I were the lovable bad boys constantly distracting the doting Allerick and Eddie. Great fun. <br />
<br />
The six of us spent the last three nights in Pichilemu, a small coastal surf town south of Valparaiso. We rented a cabin on the beach for $100/night and drank and ate way too much the entire time. There are rolling waves coming into the Pichilemu bay and a constant strong wind. Pro-quality windsurfers were out every day riding up and down the waves, surfing harder than I've ever imagined. All the windusrfing I've done has been on flatter water or rocky chop. Never long rolling waves that you can work up and down as they come in. It looked amazing. Knowing there's a reef right under the surface, though, I decided to hold out until I find conditions better suited for me. Buenos Aires is rumored to be amazing. I've waited a long time for wind, a little longer won't hurt.<br />
<br />
Pichilemu was a blast. There wasn't much to do, but that allowed us to unwind without the stress of wasting days. We've been on the run for a long time now trying to find a place we really liked. Argentina was awesome, but so much so that I couldn't relax; I tried to get too much out of every day. There was a false hurry built up and finally after Pichilemu it's gone. I'm back on vacation, wandering around however I please.<br />
<br />
Santiago is the best big city I've seen since San Francisco on this trip. It's expansive, green, spacious, and modern. On the way in there were no slums. There are no bums. No garbage. It rivals most American cities as far as I'm concerned. Pedestrians have plenty of space and comfort walking along the avenues, with no holes or jagged rebar as obstacles. There's a subway connecting all ends of the city. In the next three days Sonic Youth, Stone Temple Pilots, Primus, Pepper, Damion Marley, and even Pearl Jam are playing. Charlie and I have been chasing Pearl Jam all over this continent. First we missed them in Lima, then they were just out of reach in Buenos Aires last week, and now we have a chance here in Santiago. If I can find tickets I'm going. A legendary Seattle band 20,000 miles from home would be a fun divergence for a night. <br />
<br />
Chile in general has been better than expected. I always had my mind set on Argentina as a place to live for a while, but Chile's on my radar now as well. I don't know that I'm ready to work here yet, but I see myself returning to this part of the continent for another extended trip sometime in the future after I've gone home, recharged, and restocked my bank account. So far there are three places in the world that I know of that have ample skiing and winsurfing both within an hour's drive: Hood River, New Zealand, and Chile. My options are limited.<br />
<br />
My mom arrives on Tuesday and from then on I will be like everybody else riding busses. The plan is to spend two nights in Santiago (hopefully see Pearl Jam) and then head east for Buenos Aires via Mendoza and whatever else fits in. She flies out of Santiago as well so it will be a round trip. Charlie's brother and friend are flying in on Tuesday as well. Those two will be here for a month. They plan to hire a 4X4 and hit Patagonia. Given the wind and weather down there, I might catch up with them and hop in the cab for that section. It was nice seeing the unforgiving Atacama from the Land Cruiser. Patagonia from a Toyota Hilux might also be the way to do it. <br />
<br />
Aside from the still blown suspension the bike is running well. Up until yesterday I was very concerned about my engine. It was bogging down and dying when I held it at low throttle. When I cracked it wide open it roared and held the RPM just fine. The freeway was fine, but around town had me stalling out. I got my hands dirty in Pichimelu and ended up cleaning my two airfilters. That didn't help. Then I pulled the carb out, disassembled it, and soaked all the components in gasoline to clean them out. It was dirty in there. Probably because some mechanic back in Peru or Colombia removed a piece of stripping around my air fliter and essentially broke the seal (I realized that on Thursday). That's going to haunt me as long as I ride this bike. Cleaning the carb still didn't do anything so I called out to the ADV community on Alex's blog. The responses poured in and the next day I figured it out. Back in Bolivia I had turned my idle screw as tight as it would go so the bike would start up in the cold mornings at altitude. When I came back to sea level and opened up the fuel mixture screw, I started flooding my carb every time it idled. And that's why it was bogging out off the line. I turned it the idle screw back down and it runs like new. I feel stupid for that one, but on the bright side my carb is way cleaner than it was. <br />
<br />
I've come to the conclusion that I'm not done riding once my mom leaves (a lot has changed since Peru). When my grandma Bitsey passed away this year she left me a generous four-figure inheritance. It's allowed me to live a little more lavishly in South America and now gives me innumerable options on how to finish out. Within the next six weeks I will have spent all the money I left with. That's an average of just under $2,000/month including every expense incurred since I left Lake Stevens. There's a figure for all the backpackers who ask me how much money traveling on bike saves me.<br />
<br />
I don't want to go much longer, but I'd like to finish strong on a functioning suspension at sea level. A two or three week trip down into Northern Patagonia would be perfect. Unfortunately that has me heading home right when all the flight prices spike for Christmas. That being the case, I wouldn't be able to ship out until early January. Charlie's in the same mindset and together we're plotting these next couple months. Brazil is on the table to kill time. We've also considered shipping to Houston and riding home from there... except it's January and most of the states I want to see are covered in snow and ice. We'll see; I could still come home as early as mid-December. But the enchanting mystery of the trip is back, and it's about time.Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-76957400736015950742011-11-07T15:45:00.000-08:002011-11-07T15:48:59.095-08:00Valparaiso<m:smallfrac m:val="off">
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<span lang="EN-US">I´m finally in Chile, well
ahead of schedule. The six of us agreed to head to Valparaiso after three
nights in Uspallata. Chile is about 100 miles wide so the port city
wasn´t far away. Charlie and I took off before the bus riders. On
the way to the border we stopped off at a viewpoint for Aconcagua, the highest
mountain in South America at 6,900+ meters. It was a quick stop. We
didn´t want to leave the bikes in their vulnerability and on top of that we
were lazy. We walked about 100 feet for the first view we could
see. In the distance Aconcagua didn´t look as grand as some of the other
stuff we saw back in Peru. When you consider that the mountains
surrounding us in the foreground were all 6,000 meters, though, the perspective
was warped. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US">We hit the border by
11:00am. It was well-laid out. Argentine and Chilean immigration
and customs work together, making it a one stop shop. It was still at
South American border crossing, though, so it took two hours. The ride
down from the mountains towards the coast revealed what we´ve heard for
months. Chile is the class of South America. On the road it´s hard
to tell you´re not at home. The gas stations are even better than we
have. Drivers follow the speed limits; you can´t bribe the cops
here. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US">Since then we´ve spent two
nights in Valparaiso. It´s a nice coastal town with good weather and a
huge art influence. There´s grafitti everywhere, but it´s tasteful, part
of the city. We had a big night out Saturday. Cover charges of $10
had everyone balking. Sunday I must have walked a few miles down to the
beach and back. I got lost on my way back and ended up on the wrong
hill. Santiago is a series of hills leading down to the water.
Cerro (mount) Concepcion is the tourist area where we´re staying. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US">Today Charlie and I took a
cab to the recommended motorcycle shipping agent here in Santiago. Turns
out it would cost around $1,500 U.S. to ship to the United States from
here. I was looking forward to the opportunity to offload the bike, but
not for that price. Now I´m thinking about screwing around down here
through Christmas and trying again from Buenos Aires. Possibly shipping
to Miami or Texas and riding home. It´s not the right time to be
motorcycling the states, but weather hasn´t stopped me yet. Selling is an
option too, but I really don´t feel like coordinating with another person while
stranded in South America. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US">Whatever happens I plan to
come back to a like-new bike after my mom comes down. With a new (used)
shock and a full service, it should be more enjoyable than the last 1,000
miles. With my mom nearly a week away the future is getting bright down
here. She´s bringing underwear, a newer pair of sneakers, and possibly a
new computer to replace my currently failing hard drive. Chile is
expensive so I won´t be here longer than I have to. It´s a good place to
find a job, but not great for budget travel. If I do end up sticking
around for a couple more months, it will be in my tent eating steak in
Argentina. I have a hard time writing much down here. It´s just not as shocking and really nice. I´ve been sleeping in and eating as much as possible for about two weeks. Not much is going on, but it´s the break I needed. I don´t plan to do much in the next nine days either. Tomorrow we´re all going south a few hours to see something
new before heading into Santiago for the family reunion.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US">Also, congratulations to Ty and Jill who announced their engagement from Ushuaia, Argentina at the bottom of the world. What an amazing highlight to a life-changing trip.</span>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-45365998693441238812011-11-02T22:06:00.003-07:002011-11-02T22:06:34.908-07:00Siesta Time<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Catamarca to Mendoza was a long day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We started late, got lost on the way out, but made it 750 kilometers by 8:00pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Argentina is another hour forward, four ahead of home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun stays up well into the evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the way there we met two Argentine brothers on BMW’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of them spoke perfect English and it turned out he had played pro basketball for the San Antonio Spurs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was at least 6’8” with hair to his shoulders towering over us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The R1200 looked normal sized on him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">They said we could make it to Mendoza so we went for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We pulled in late, but had a relatively easy time finding our hostel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was owned by an older couple who made their money in the U.S.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We parked the bikes, unloaded, and went to McDonald’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next morning Eddie and Lizzie arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Together we went out and chose a new place to stay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ended up all four in a dorm outside of downtown in an overpriced, but convenient hostel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We stayed in that room four nights, but didn’t do much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Argentina has turned into a trip completely based around food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We drank a lot of good coffee, ate out daily, and cooked cheap feasts every night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s nice to get a big weekend in every once in a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Argentina is also a ‘siesta’ country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The whole place shuts down for a nap between 3:00pm and 7:00.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can’t buy anything, so you take a nap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s brilliant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day we skipped the nap and took Eddie and Lizzie as passengers up into the mountains for a picnic to a place called Uspallata.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little ski town was a great break from Mendoza and we’ve ended up there again tonight.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mendoza is a great city, but after Cafayate the wine town feel was lost in this city of over 100,000 people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mendoza’s easily the best big city I’ve been to since Cali, Colombia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s clean, bright, and colorful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Full of life all day long with lots of pretty girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But after five days of sloth we had to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So this morning we all got up and moved to a cabin in Uspallata.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For $18/night we have a full kitchen, couch, satellite TV, internet, and Eddie and Lizzie finally have a private room.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We met a Californian named Andrew while buying dinner tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came over for Charlie and Lizzie’s big roast cook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a full meal with plenty of great food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow’s menu is already in the works and it will include sweets from the bakery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I haven’t taken a single picture in Argentina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been such an entertaining place to be on vacation that I can’t be distracted with a camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People watching and eating are plenty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After waiting for so long for this atmosphere, it’s very rewarding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll spend at least another night here and then head into Chile to explore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I plan to arrive in Santiago by the 10<sup>th</sup> to start sorting a bunch of stuff out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bus schedules, bike shipping, bike selling, and when I want to go home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could see myself hanging around a bit longer and getting all I can out of this part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Getting home for ski season with a little spare cash and starting a routine would be a good change of pace too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have a plan, but it’s becoming clear that the trip can’t go on forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom is bringing down a new shock and bar risers, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll have to test them out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-40781145380734825572011-10-27T14:22:00.000-07:002011-10-27T14:27:24.561-07:00Deliverance<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Having spent one week here now, Argentina is everything I’ve imagined since I wrote my culminating report on it in UW-Spanish for Senor Garcia way back in high school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love this place.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">From the La Quiaca border crossing Charlie and I moved south to catch up with our friends Eddie and Lizzie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We met the couple in La Paz, Mexico and haven’t seen them since Mazatlan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve come close to catching them several times on the way down, but somehow always missed each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie and I hooked it down the well-signed, fully paved Argentine roads heading south.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stopped at a small town north of Jujuy for lunch and enjoyed the best steak sandwich I’ve ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great meat on fresh bread with a salad bar for toppings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been since Mexico that I’ve eaten this well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Best of all were our servers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were unshaven guys our age listening to funky music wearing hats backwards and sunglasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guys I felt like I could have a good time with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were cool, just screwing around, being in their twenties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The people here seem really upbeat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You get the feeling that they can grow up and to a degree choose their futures whereas unfortunately in Peru and Bolivia, they’re fates seemed sealed the second they started working for the family at age eight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it’s a different culture up there under different circumstances, but I much prefer this one for the long-term.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">From Jujuy we moved west towards Salta on a very unique road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was one lane paved, with the yellow line running down the middle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why build two lanes when you only need one?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a winding road through foothills and across rivers leading towards Salta and the entire time I felt like I was on a giant bike staying in my half-lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We arrived in Salta at 5:30pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a big city, and very clean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were street lights and green trees running the sidewalk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of them were budding with pink and purple flowers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Springtime in Argentina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw a supermarket with a big Wal-Mart sized parking lot for the first time since Colombia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Salta looked nice, but Eddie and Lizzie were still 200 kilometers south.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Charlie and I got gas, got lost, and an hour later were finally on the road to Cafayate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After an hour of night driving under the stars we pulled into El Balcon Hostel in Cafayate and found Eddie and Lizzie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was crazy seeing familiar faces from so long ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last time I saw these guys I was barely a month into this trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was spring then too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sunday night we all went to bed pretty early.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned a lesson about Argentina as I tossed around in bed that night: they start partying at 2:00am and go all night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The disco next door blasted electronic music all night long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My earplugs managed to suffice and I actually slept pretty well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next day Eddie and Lizzie went on a bicycle ride to go look at some rock formations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie and I were pretty satisfied sitting around catching up on emails and facebook instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For dinner we all had a big barbeque of steak, sausage, and grilled vegetables over the hostel’s grill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For $5 I filled myself with more protein than I ate in a week up north.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Charlie and I did one more night in Cafayate while Eddie and Lizzie went ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They only went about a hundred miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we gear up, we like to make a day of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Getting on the bike is like preparing for war, and I just can’t bring myself to that mentality for a hundred miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took our extra day relaxing and eating even more flame-broiled steak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the afternoon we both installed our extra rear tires and I’m happy to say that neither of us pinched tubes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a first for me and I was beaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wednesday we mounted up again and moved south.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The end of the day put us in Catamarca, a big city with plenty of money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie and I spent two hours doing laps around downtown trying to find a cheap enough hostel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were just about to break down and pay $40/night each when we found San Pedro Hostel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s an fun, relaxed place run by a guy named Julio, who recently sold his BMW F-650.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He likes us and we like him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tonight will be our second night. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s not a lot happening in town, but it’s absolutely pleasant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t get over how good it smells and how clean it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The green trees everywhere have boosted my mood too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Best of all, we’re back below 1,000 meters elevation and I can breathe again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can even stand up without getting a head spin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a lot like home, and it’s just what I needed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
<br />
Right now it's siesta time. The whole city shuts down from 2:00pm until 6:00. Then everything stays open until past 10:00pm. It's awesome, and the attitude around town reflects it. No hurries, no worries. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tomorrow we’ll move south again to Mendoza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s 750 kilometers and likely a two-day trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve really flown through northern Argentina, but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Julio just spent the last hour explaining to me a slew of bike routes we could take around here in the foothills of the Andes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With my mom and Charlie’s brother flying into Santiago in two weeks, though, there’s no time to waste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These bikes are reliable, but a simple failure could mean a week’s wait or more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I plan to arrive in Santiago five days early just in case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">With my shock blown out again I’m not so keen on being adventurous with the bike right now; it’s more about survival.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like before, the back end humps up and down over the tiniest bumps and through the hard curves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s manageable, but not much fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily an adventure rider named Pat from California sold me his lightly used shock for a very low price and it will show up with mom in Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There I’ll leave the bike at a mechanic for a full service and the shock installation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Otherwise the bike has been running pretty well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back at sea level I have seemingly infinite power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When it was real cold up in Bolivia I had an oil link every morning at several points out of my radiator hoses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was never a big deal because as soon as the engine warmed up, the leak stopped; nevertheless something I’ve been keeping an eye on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember Ty had that problem on his V-Strom as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll have to ask about it in Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also picked up a couple new fuel filters yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My current filter is disgusting after going through Bolivia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The plan is simple from here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Find Eddie and Lizzie in Mendoza, band together for up to a week and then head to Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From there we’ll park up, rest up, and start the family tours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think my mom and I will use public transportation to hit Valparaiso, Mendoza, and then Buenos Aires over her two-week visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that I’ll figure out how to get back to the bike and see what happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure I’ll want to ride more, but not necessarily all the way to Ushuaia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also applied for a travel consulting job in Buenos Aires, so if that materializes into an interview I’ll be focusing on something other than motorcycling for once. If that doesn't happen, they still have world-class skiing and windsurfing here.</span></div>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-56411621831639324712011-10-24T06:35:00.000-07:002011-10-24T08:58:53.476-07:00Fotos XCharlie and I made it to Cafayate, Argentina last night and caught up with Eddie and Lizzie. We love it here and will be staying a few days. Easily the best country since Mexico. Here are some pictures since Peru. Oh and my shock blew out again as many warned it would. F....antastic!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jLc5Xvj-orU/TqT0F9XsuuI/AAAAAAAAAME/awbk3zwXVdQ/s1600/Machu+Picchu+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jLc5Xvj-orU/TqT0F9XsuuI/AAAAAAAAAME/awbk3zwXVdQ/s640/Machu+Picchu+001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The final day of our 1,400 kilometers of dirt in Peru. Eye drops helped.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gdGvymKP5tY/TqT0mwa3B2I/AAAAAAAAAMM/9_PWdrwyVU0/s1600/Machu+Picchu+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gdGvymKP5tY/TqT0mwa3B2I/AAAAAAAAAMM/9_PWdrwyVU0/s640/Machu+Picchu+016.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down on Machu Picchu from Wayna Picchu. Best view all day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xRM7s5xOPuY/TqT1FIiXgzI/AAAAAAAAAMU/K9azAVp_6Hw/s1600/Machu+Picchu+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xRM7s5xOPuY/TqT1FIiXgzI/AAAAAAAAAMU/K9azAVp_6Hw/s640/Machu+Picchu+017.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terraces leading down into the mist.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-baJkLHaLyGA/TqT1p6Lt9LI/AAAAAAAAAMc/leVPdnCGhaM/s1600/Machu+Picchu+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-baJkLHaLyGA/TqT1p6Lt9LI/AAAAAAAAAMc/leVPdnCGhaM/s640/Machu+Picchu+027.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's that incredible Inca stone work.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6M8N6rklygA/TqT2Ee8xXSI/AAAAAAAAAMk/c7TV-6-rsMk/s1600/Machu+Picchu+032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6M8N6rklygA/TqT2Ee8xXSI/AAAAAAAAAMk/c7TV-6-rsMk/s640/Machu+Picchu+032.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Machu Picchu: ticked off the list.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yRyPZbdLAAk/TqTvEihjG3I/AAAAAAAAAK8/7IwB5EF97gA/s1600/Bolivia+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" rda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yRyPZbdLAAk/TqTvEihjG3I/AAAAAAAAAK8/7IwB5EF97gA/s640/Bolivia+004.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading for Lake Titicaca at 4,000 meters.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dlLjrAmADsE/TqTvtrT969I/AAAAAAAAALE/PK_gfom_wXA/s1600/Bolivia+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dlLjrAmADsE/TqTvtrT969I/AAAAAAAAALE/PK_gfom_wXA/s640/Bolivia+008.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the lake on our 'lancha' just after paying $40 to leave Peru. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-745oji6k_q8/TqTwSI3RYUI/AAAAAAAAALM/6nbTl2Y7Za0/s1600/Bolivia+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" rda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-745oji6k_q8/TqTwSI3RYUI/AAAAAAAAALM/6nbTl2Y7Za0/s640/Bolivia+015.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miners protesting and blowing up dynamite on La Paz's only arterial.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ijRHWCnQAOA/TqTw1GRDHKI/AAAAAAAAALU/SlI7IeGEyBM/s1600/Bolivia+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ijRHWCnQAOA/TqTw1GRDHKI/AAAAAAAAALU/SlI7IeGEyBM/s640/Bolivia+016.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie and Anna enjoying some juice.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RCBjn_2pHWw/TqVqfyyj5JI/AAAAAAAAAMs/vwh6ZcMGixY/s1600/Bolivia+034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" rda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RCBjn_2pHWw/TqVqfyyj5JI/AAAAAAAAAMs/vwh6ZcMGixY/s640/Bolivia+034.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Following Charlie inside the mines.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LEVekx8gJhQ/TqVq2esDlsI/AAAAAAAAAM0/L-tUmM0CXjs/s1600/Bolivia+035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LEVekx8gJhQ/TqVq2esDlsI/AAAAAAAAAM0/L-tUmM0CXjs/s640/Bolivia+035.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to hold together hundreds of meters below the surface.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6eGGWRnbiB8/TqVrH6TmJeI/AAAAAAAAAM8/8Bu2Ga_bwXg/s1600/Bolivia+043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6eGGWRnbiB8/TqVrH6TmJeI/AAAAAAAAAM8/8Bu2Ga_bwXg/s640/Bolivia+043.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two miners pushing thier 2.5 ton cart.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8EgH-dFqK3A/TqVrbVzut3I/AAAAAAAAANE/bQyvHfY-ZCk/s1600/Bolivia+053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8EgH-dFqK3A/TqVrbVzut3I/AAAAAAAAANE/bQyvHfY-ZCk/s640/Bolivia+053.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with the mining devil.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VGa5avIKSMk/TqTxTC3kb3I/AAAAAAAAALc/DPYYC2NQzmo/s1600/Bolivia+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VGa5avIKSMk/TqTxTC3kb3I/AAAAAAAAALc/DPYYC2NQzmo/s640/Bolivia+023.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Paz with Huayna Potosi in the background.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h80kshATpgc/TqVtAJBDlBI/AAAAAAAAANM/qDWiTpmRTpU/s1600/Uyuni+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h80kshATpgc/TqVtAJBDlBI/AAAAAAAAANM/qDWiTpmRTpU/s640/Uyuni+001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Train graveyard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hhbx8gzXYjk/TqVtRWG51II/AAAAAAAAANU/wJ7ZYO0qL7g/s1600/Uyuni+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hhbx8gzXYjk/TqVtRWG51II/AAAAAAAAANU/wJ7ZYO0qL7g/s640/Uyuni+023.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On top of Fish Island overlooking Salar de Uyuni.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rj8YN4ypgi8/TqVtm0z-bKI/AAAAAAAAANc/TvZrBG7EQRc/s1600/Uyuni+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rj8YN4ypgi8/TqVtm0z-bKI/AAAAAAAAANc/TvZrBG7EQRc/s640/Uyuni+025.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gina and me inside the cooking pot.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C4L_EYaAORo/TqVt52kD5GI/AAAAAAAAANk/TRTzVP9gOZY/s1600/Uyuni+035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" rda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C4L_EYaAORo/TqVt52kD5GI/AAAAAAAAANk/TRTzVP9gOZY/s640/Uyuni+035.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pigmy mummy!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TWtOg8yW1ak/TqVuK3EhkrI/AAAAAAAAANs/fb_sQBNYnmw/s1600/Uyuni+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" rda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TWtOg8yW1ak/TqVuK3EhkrI/AAAAAAAAANs/fb_sQBNYnmw/s640/Uyuni+038.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very creepy individuals.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QGi8rCFqXwE/TqVuadxRLvI/AAAAAAAAAN0/GwDGVfFDXJs/s1600/Uyuni+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QGi8rCFqXwE/TqVuadxRLvI/AAAAAAAAAN0/GwDGVfFDXJs/s640/Uyuni+046.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new train transporting minerals across the Salar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VjcZjRw7b2A/TqWBMvj82xI/AAAAAAAAAOk/TxB_y39aAgY/s1600/Uyuni+108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VjcZjRw7b2A/TqWBMvj82xI/AAAAAAAAAOk/TxB_y39aAgY/s640/Uyuni+108.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Get used to the red jumper. One of the lagoons in the Atacama.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-olngVHFnT1s/TqWA820HrpI/AAAAAAAAAOc/UvjyPdBLicY/s1600/Uyuni+104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-olngVHFnT1s/TqWA820HrpI/AAAAAAAAAOc/UvjyPdBLicY/s640/Uyuni+104.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steaming geysers at 6:00am.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EmGYpWxQwNw/TqWAt3oYdJI/AAAAAAAAAOU/FN7isZsUFbU/s1600/Uyuni+095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EmGYpWxQwNw/TqWAt3oYdJI/AAAAAAAAAOU/FN7isZsUFbU/s640/Uyuni+095.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The red lake. The same red in the lake makes the flamingos pink.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0_t3PjCKufU/TqV_2f7fQzI/AAAAAAAAAN8/lwe_tyRJ05c/s1600/Uyuni+056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0_t3PjCKufU/TqV_2f7fQzI/AAAAAAAAAN8/lwe_tyRJ05c/s640/Uyuni+056.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There they are!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vZ0WLmOb94U/TqWAG_gNqtI/AAAAAAAAAOE/AO5ghE9GNOo/s1600/Uyuni+073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vZ0WLmOb94U/TqWAG_gNqtI/AAAAAAAAAOE/AO5ghE9GNOo/s640/Uyuni+073.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6,000 meter peaks in the background.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sjtaKPJe544/TqWAaiffqCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/1eqB838BpYs/s1600/Uyuni+091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sjtaKPJe544/TqWAaiffqCI/AAAAAAAAAOM/1eqB838BpYs/s640/Uyuni+091.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, we even saw the most photographed rock in Bolivia.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-40088898354971829962011-10-23T06:25:00.000-07:002011-10-23T06:25:05.088-07:00Different WorldsLive from Argentina... The Tom Report!<br />
<br />
After Salar de Uyuni Charlie and I were ready for a little class. Bright and early Saturday morning we took off down the road that Ty warned would be hell. The washboard was just as bad as expected. At 20mph my windscreen was slapping me in the face guard over the bumps; so I took Charlie's advice and kicked it up to 60mph and started hitting every third one. It's not the most relaxing way to ride, but with sandy desert on either side of me I decided to risk it. Luckily for the entire 200 kilometers from Uyuni to Tupiza I didn't come off (despite plenty of close calls).<br />
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In Tupiza Charlie and I pulled up on the road and discussed our plans. We decided to head for the border. It was only 90 kilometers more and there was plenty of daylight. He pulled away and I nearly ran off the road trying to get off the line behind him. Flat rear tire. An hour later the nail was removed and the wheel back on my bike. With the delay we decided to skip lunch and smash some Snickers bars and Oreos. Bellies full of chocolate, we hit the border around 4:00pm. <br />
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Others had warned us that we were in for a four hour border crossing, so we had our fingers crossed. As it turned out, we were through within an hour and a half. Charlie and I had bought international insurance in La Paz that covers every country south of Ecuador. That saved a lot of headache getting into Argentina. The rest of the process was pretty simple: I've got 90 days to get a job or go home.<br />
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Since crossing it has been all smiles. Argentina is momentous. It's been the destination in our hearts for the past seven months on the road and several years of planning. We pulled into a very nice hotel in the border town. It has hot water, water pressure, heating, Wi-Fi, multiple power outlets, a locking door, a bodai and most of all, you can flush the toilet paper. We took turns in the shower and then went straight to the in-house restaurant. We each ordered $10 steaks. They're far overpriced, but it was a celebration. The steaks were everything we hoped for: over an inch thick, spanning the entire plate, cooked to perfection, with two fried eggs on top. After that and a liter of beer I sank into bed at 9:00pm and slept for ten hours. Today we're taking it easy and moving south towards Salta. Last night we found out that Eddie and Lizzie are down there and we're ready for some familiar faces. We haven't seen them since Mazatlan, Mexico, so it will be a wild reunion.<br />
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As for our tour of the salt flats and the Atacama, there was so much packed into three days that I don't have much to say. Taking the three day tour in a Land Cruiser was definitely the way to go. We booked it with our friends from Potosi, Alleric and Gina. We met at 10:00am Tuesday morning and hopped in. Joining us were the driver, our guide Robert, and a young French couple. Robert was in his forties and he had less than half his teeth. The first thing he said to us was 'Hi everybody, I am Robert, like De Niro, and I used to work in the Potosi mines. When I was fourteen the mine collapsed and half of my crew died. The rest of us drank our own urine for days until rescure. I'm very lucky to be alive and excited to be out of the mines and guiding your trip now.' Heavy. <br />
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Robert wasn't great at English, and with his seven total teeth he was difficult to understand at times. Even so, he was a great guide for three days. First we drove out to a train graveyard. Just a bunch of old steam engines rustsing away in the desert. We took pictures and kept going. Next we hit the salt flats. 6,000 square kilometers of foot-thick salt sitting on top of a lake. It felt like you were getting nowhere out there. Just stark white in every direction. We stopped for lunch at Fish Island. It's a island in the flat with 1,000 year-old cacti growing on it planted by the Incas. A hike to the top revealed an amazing 360 degree view of the flat. It was unbelievable, like nothing I've ever imagined.<br />
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Next we spent a couple hours taking strange perspective shots on the flats. With the endless white background and blue sky backdrop, you can create some funny situations in a photo. There are a bunch that will make I'll upload someday. In some I'm standing in a cooking pot, being crushed by a giant boot, and even smiting Charlie.<br />
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We finished the day heading to the opposite side of the flats where our hotel was located. It's called Hotel de Sal for a reason; it's build entirely out of salt. The walls are salt bricks with a salty mortar. The chairs and tables are slates of salt. The floor is crushed salt. The only thing that wasn't salt was my bed, and even it was sitting on a salt frame. Salt doesn't insulate very well and that night was cold. I slept in my sleeping bag under the covers. We took off at 6:00am the next morning.<br />
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Our first stop was an hour away where we got to see some pigmy mummies. They were tiny, oddly shaped people who used boards to shape the infants' skulls like an alien's. The site was peppered with little rock domes and on the side of each one was a small hole. Inside the hole were the mummies. Most were just skeletons, sitting upright in the fetal position, but some still had skin on them. <br />
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Next we drove into the Atacama. Our first stop was a lagoon with a flock of flamingos grazing on microbacterials. The girls went nuts. We had lunch there and kept going. As it turned out, there would be many more lagoons and flamingos. By the end of the day I had seen thousands. Just before our hotel we stopped at another lagoon, this one completely red. Apparently the color only comes out in the daytime and is caused by phosphorescence. Quite a sight. We also saw some crazy rock formations.<br />
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Friday we were up at 4:30am and on the road. The roads in the Atacama are incredible. It's a wide open desert at over 4,000 meters and you can drive whereever you like. There is nothing but sand and gravel in all directions with a few peaks in the distance that reach over 6,000 meters. So when I say on the road, I mean, making a bearing towards our destination and off-roading toward it. Friday at 6:00am we arrived at a series of geysers blasting up from below the surface. They smelled like sulfur, which turns my stomach easily. You did not want to fall in; inside the craters was bubbling magma-hot filth water. I kept my distance. After the geysers we went to a hot springs and all hopped in. The night before the temperature had reached -25C degrees so it was great to warm up finally. After that we hit the Chilean border and dropped off the French couple. They were fun, and now we have French friends.<br />
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The rest of the day we roamed back across the desert towards Uyuni. It was a long drive and we made it back at 6:00pm. I'm glad we didn't take the bikes. Our tour covered 900 kilometers of trail very similar to the 200k from Uyuni to Tupiza. The bikes would have rattled to bits. In fact on the ride from Uyuni a bolt rattled out of Charlie's triple tree clamps which hold the forks to the frame. That's not supposed to happen. We pulled a bolt from my engine guard and called it fixed. After the tour we had pizza with Alleric and Gina and said our goodbyes. We'll all be in Santiago at the same time, though, so we'll see each other soon. Now it's all eyes on Argentina. Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-2651948682868984382011-10-18T16:18:00.000-07:002011-10-25T06:02:10.883-07:00Cerro RicoThe Potosi mine tour at Cerro Rico was the most shocking and dangerous experience of my entire trip so far. Charlie and I booked a 2:00pm tour Monday morning. Our guide showed up with a mouth full of coca leaves and led us a couple blocks down where we changed into yellow jumpers and rubber boots. Then we all hopped in a micro bus and rode up to the miner´s market on the edge of town. There we each spent about $1.50 on gifts for the miners (coca leaves, juice, and crackers).<br />
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Half an hour later we pulled up at one of 500 mine entrances and geared up. The guide strapped helmets and spotlights with battery packs to us. She spoke broken English and rapidly explained that if anyone got scared she would lead them out. At that we went in.<br />
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There are over 16,000 miners in Potosi and they have an average lifespan of ten years after they start working. Most of the deaths are from black lung disease, but plenty more are the result of on the job accidents. I had no idea what I was in for.<br />
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The first couple hundred yards of mine were build by the Spanish over 400 years ago... back when they enslaved the Bolivians and sent them into the mines for six months at a time without surfacing. The walls and ceiling were built up with bricks that arched at the top overhead. The height was probably 5.5 feet. Under us were two rails leading in and six inches deep water. My boots leaked instantly, and the overwhelming smell of piss in the water made it even better. We continued on through the visible dust in the air as the ceiling kept creeping lower.<br />
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At some points there were wooden braces overhead, others no. Some of the braces were split in half under the pressure from overhead; we stooped right under them. Along side us the entire way were pipes with air hissing out every few hundred feet. They tied rags around the leaks to slow them. The mine kept getting smaller and smaller until we were crouched almost on our hands and knees working our way in. It was getting hotter too, and the air was thick.<br />
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About a quarter mile in we came to our first miners. Two guys shoveling debris into buckets. When they filled the bucket it was pulled up to the surface via a shoot and then dropped back down empty. They had mouths full of coca leaves and weren´t very interested in our company. When they had finished with the debris they sat down and unwound staring at the ground.<br />
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After five minutes of the gringos taking picture of them they were back to work. From deeper in the mine we heard a rumble. It was the next load of debris being carted in. 2.5 tons of rock being hauled in an Indiana Jones style mine cart by three Bolivians. They ram it against the broken rails all day long shirtless and breathing in dust six days a week. They pulled up, rocked the cart back and fourth, and eventually toppled the load onto the floor for the shovelers to take care of. Then they accepted a juice and some coca leaves and trudged back with the cart. We followed them.<br />
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Even further down we came to the end of the tour, probably a half mile deep in total. It was easily 90F degrees and the guide wouldn´t let us stay there long. We hung around just long enough to get a glimpse of the actual work being done. Four Bolivians with pick axes chipping away at a silver vein and shoving the debris down a ramp into the carts... as they have been for the last 400 years. They were thirsty and we all handed over our gifts.<br />
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With that we turned around and started stumbling back out. Every so often another cart would come by accompanied by three groaning bodies. On the way we went down another shaft to visit the God of the miners. It was a devilish statue that the Spanish set up for them. I didn´t pay much attention to the guide´s speech due to the shock of what I had witnessed. A half mile of four foot ceilings to get to the entrance and we were out. <br />
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I asked Charlie´s opinion as an Australian miner. He was dumbfounded. He said they stopped mining like that 200 years ago in the modern world. ´They don´t dig holes as far as they can anymore, they just move the whole damn hill´. They´ve been tunneling Cerro Rico for 400 years and Charlie reckons a real mining company could make it disappear in under three months. The miners follow tiny veins all day long for $14 a day killing themselves. The big companies would just rip the entire hill apart and pull out the good bits later. Charlie was obviously disturbed by the hazards too. According to him, one gas pocket, one earth tremor, or one falling rock could have killed us all in there. <br />
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It´s incredible that people still crawl around in these shafts and die in droves here given the technology that´s available. Cerro Rico is a miner´s co-op by name, but apparently the people at top still rake in the real money. The Bolivian government won´t allow foreign investment. The current president is the nation´s first indigenous leader. It sounds romantic, but the fact that he has 2.5 years of education and is chummy with Castro and Chavez is a little unsettling. According to Nora, our hotel owner, the country is heading towards a communist dictatorship rapidly. I'm not sure about that, but one look at the Potosi mines, and you can tell that something is wrong here. Someday it will turn around, but a lot of miners will die in the meantime.<br />
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Today Charlie and I arrived in Uyuni. We got a peak at the salt flats on the way in and they were amazing. White expanse as far as the eye can see. The road from Potosi was 70% paved, a perfect ratio for a day´s ride. The countryside looked like Arizona for some reason. I´m still scratching my head about that. Tomorrow we embark on a three day tour of Salar de Uyuni and the surrounding national parks. We are in a Land Cruiser with two new friends from the mine tour. Alleric from South Africa and his wife Gina from England who both live in Australia. Charlie originally met them in Mexico and now five months later we crossed paths agian. It should be a good time, and then we´re high tailing it for the border. We might skip Atacama for now. More dirt roads make me cringe thinking of my suspension. Plus I had a real steak last night and now I´ve got blood thirst.<br />
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Gas shouldn´t be so much a worry now; Charlie and I each bought a 5 liter jug that we keep in our panniers full of fuel. An extra 50 miles range is a substantial buffer.Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-1895563911133093022011-10-17T07:59:00.000-07:002011-10-25T06:24:51.104-07:00Foreign PlatesOur last day in La Paz Charlie and I set off for legendary Death Road. Originally the only road to a small town called Coroico, the dirt road with thousand foot dropoffs is now a popular tourist attraction. There are numerous agencies in La Paz that offer bicycle rides down the road... we took motorcycles. After what we experienced in the badlands of Peru, I wasn´t expecting anything too exciting. <br />
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</div><div>The highway leading to the turnoff proved deadly enough. It rose to 4,800 meters through thick fog and intermittent rain. We stopped at several gas stations on the way but none of them would sell to foreign plates. We were livid, and running out of fuel. Apparently it´s a law in La Paz that foreigners cannot buy gas... logically. At the second station we met two Austrians on Honda Trans Alps. They needed gas too so we decided to ride together towards Death Road. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Eventually we stopped at a roadside shack and inquired about gas. They had a few liters and we each bought five. Ten kilometers further we found a gas station that was above the law and filled up. Two kilometers later was Death Road. It was an ominous turnoff shrouded in fog and by then the rain was picking up. The waterproof outers we´re getting clammy and I was worried about my new ´waterproof´ bag. Nevertheless we started down at a slow pace slipping over the wet rocks. </div><div><br />
</div><div>For the entire 40 kilometers of dirt and gravel I never saw more than 500 yards in front of me. The fog was thick and wet. Looking over the edge was impressive enough without landing below. You´d peer down into the foliage and it seemed bottomless. Just rolling fog passing through the deep valley below. The road was bad, but nothing I´m not used to. There were plenty of river crossings and waterfalls to ride through. And of course a slew of cyclists to dodge. </div><div><br />
</div><div>By the time we got to the bottom the rain was coming down in sheets. Charlie exchanged information with the Austrians and we headed back towards La Paz on the new ´good´ road. The new road seemed to take even longer than Death Road and was already severely damaged by the constant rainfall. The rentention walls on the uphill side had already given out and had been reinforced by rebar. Climbing back to 4,800 meters soaking wet was even less fun than it sounds. Fully loaded uphill at that height my bike maxes out at around 40mph. Very slow going when you can´t feel your hands.</div><div><br />
</div><div>On the other side of the pass Charlie and I stopped for lunch and dried off. We then decided to get out of the city and find a hotel on the outskirts before nightfall to avoid the same hassle in the morning. We looked at a map and decided to head south through the city and spit out on the highway at the other end. As it turned out, there is only one highway in and out of La Paz, and it´s at the north end. The two of us weaved traffic for two hours for twenty miles figuring that out. By the time we found a hotel we were fifty miles south of the city and well into night time. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Our hotel was a little swank and overpriced, but at that hour it was an oasis. We went to bed by 9:00pm and were up and about by 6:00am on Sunday. Sunday was election day in Bolivia, and it turned out to be very complicated. Starting on Thursday they stopped selling alcohol across the country. On Sunday, no one is allowed to drive. As Charlie said, ´keep the population sober and immobilized for when the results come in´. Not really sure the rules, we decided to ride anyway.</div><div><br />
</div><div>The foreign plates turned to our advantage on Sunday as we were the only vehicles on the road besides ambulances. We cruised across the Altoplano (high plains) at about 4,000 meters all day long making great time. Gas was especially hard to find. Some of the stations that were open wouldn´t sell to us and others simply were out of gas. In the end we filled up at a family´s house that sold gas by the jerry can. They were kind people and very excited about our trip. It was surreal being the only souls on the road. We crossed a lot of uninhabited terrain. It was a little lonely, but a nice break from the usual semi duels. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Around 2:00pm we pulled into the last police checkpoint before Potosi. The police stopped us and said we couldn´t continue due to election day. We had to wait until 7:00pm. Charlie and I begged and pleaded and brought up the very valid point that all other police had waved us through without any questioning for the last 300 miles. The cop called his commander. Comandante Alvaraz came down and informed us that he could let us pass an hour earlier at 6:00pm, but that was all. It was such a releif that they didn´t ask for a bribe. </div><div><br />
</div><div>With no other option Charlie and I bought some snacks and sat down on the road to wait out the next few hours. As luck usually has it on this trip, though, we met a new amigo just half an hour later. Hans is a Swiss guy on a Honda Africa Twin and he was trying to leave the city with his Bolivian girlfriend Nora. We talked to him for a while and he said he knew of a hot springs ten miles away that we could go to. He slipped the commander $5 and was granted passage to our side. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Together we took off. I was low on gas, but anything was better than waiting. We arrived at the hot springs and soaked for a couple hours with our new friends. Hans had a lot of good route information and Nora owned a hotel in town. Ideal people to run into. At 6:00pm we dried off and headed back to the checkpoint. Five miles away I ran out of gas. Long story short, I siphoned Charlie´s gas twice to get back and it was as disgusting as it sounds. I think my fuel petcock has the draw lines backwards. When the engine started to sag I switched to ´reserve´and about ten seconds later it died completely. Next ride I´ll try running on reserve and switching to ´on´when I get low.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We spent the night at Nora's lovely hotel last night and this afternoon Charlie and I are touring the mines here in Potosi. That´s all for now.</div>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-24240455187405235312011-10-14T10:59:00.000-07:002011-10-25T06:32:41.628-07:00On the OutsideThese reports may be fewer and further between for a while because my netbook seems to have crashed for the final time here in La Paz. I´ll be using smelly internet cafes for the next month until my mom brings a replacement down.<br />
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Leaving Peru turned out to be an absolute hassle. Charlie and I got to the border to find another nest of corruption. In the end I paid a cop $40 (down from $100) for permission to leave the country because I didn´t have insurance. It was the same scenario as in Mexico; everyone involved had the same story and I was dealing with the highest in command. I didn´t put up much of a fight this time because more than anything I just wanted out of Peru. I paid him, he gave me a bogus stamp, and I was out of the frying pan into the fire.<br />
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The Bolivian side went pretty smoothly, even with the $135 visa charge for U.S. citizens. At least that one is real. Another round of headache started while we imported our bikes. The worm behind the counter asked us for insurance... which we still didn´t have. We told him exactly that. He said he couldn´t do anything unless we had it. We asked him where to buy it... La Paz. ´Ok, we´ll go to La Paz and buy it´. ´No, one of you takes a bus there and buys it for both and comes back´.<br />
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That would have been a 24 hour trip so we just hung around fifteen more minutes asking him stupid questions until he started filling out his paperwork and completed the import. He was just looking for another bribe; but luckily the cops outside liked us and he had no power to hold us back or write us up anyway. We got through the entire crossing by noon and headed towards La Paz absolutely furious. <br />
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After talking to the guys at our hotel in Puno we had decided to take the low-key crossing that requires a ferry over Lake Titicaca. The road across the border was great with beautiful views looking north and south down the ´world´s highest lake´ (whatever that means). At the end of a small peninsula we came to the town with the ferries. We stopped at a little restaurant and ate a very dodgy meal of rice and hot dog. After that, we rolled down to the docks and loaded onto the boat. These aren´t your typical ferries. They are skids with outboards on the back just big enough to hold a tour bus. Charlie and I parked our bikes up against a railing and held on tight.<br />
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The whole quarter mile distance took about twenty minutes. The boat slowly plowed through the water creaking and twisting in the waves. On the other side we unloaded and rode off towards La Paz. Three hours later we had arrived at Lion Palace Hostel on Calle Linares. The place was recommended by Anna and is located on the main tourist avenue. We found Anna in good form upstairs and within a half hour we were all out for drinks to celebrate. The reunion was going great until around 9:00pm when I was crippled with gut cramps which soon spiraled into another round of traveler´s diarrhea. I spent the next two days slugging down antibiotics within blocks of the hotel.<br />
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The days weren´t completely wasted. Wednesday we walked down to the main street to watch the miners protesting in the streets. The protests blocked up the main highway in both directions; thousands of people wearing mining helmets marching and chanting through the middle of La Paz. Every quarter mile they would clear a hundred foot radius circle and blow up four half-sticks of dynamite in the street. Bombs so big you felt it in your chest when they went off. It was quite the scene but shortly after arriving I was forced to waddle home to the toilet.<br />
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I also got to see the ´witch´s market´ which is mainly full of spices and Viagra knockoffs. Most interesting were the dried out llama fetuses hanging for sale at every doorway. I never figured out their importance, but given their popularity there must be quite a market for them.<br />
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Today, Friday, I´m finally feeling back to normal. This morning we walked down to see San Pedro prison which was made famous by the popular book Marching Lines. The prison is one-of-a-kind in that inside is a fully functioning society with no guards to enforce typical rules. Prisoners buy thier cells and can decorate them with whatever they want (TV´s, furniture, etc.). The more money a prisoner has, the better location and treatment he gets. To earn money they all run businesses out of their cells. They also bring thier families inside to live with them in jail. Right now there are over 100 children living in San Pedro. Drugs, alcohol, prostitution are apparently easier to find inside than outside. What the prison is most known for is its production of cocaine. The inmates have been producing and selling some of Bolivia´s purest coke for years now. For the last decade they have even offered semi-illegal tours into the prison for tourists. Given what goes on in there, though, the lines of legality are very blurred.<br />
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Outside of the entrance we met Dave from New York. Dave has been an inmate for the last twelve years as the result of a botched drug run. He´s got two weeks left and he´s currently on work release. While the others on work release find jobs and spend their meals with their families, Dave is unemployable as a foreigner so his job is to recruit gringos to take the tour. He´s barefoot, smelly and obviously strung out, but still a hell of a nice guy. He told us a lot about being on the inside, how it´s basically a huge party in there year ´round. He offered us the tour but eventually I declined. I wanted to go in, but reports are that authorities are cracking down and sometimes deporting tourists who get caught. If I didn´t have my bike, I might have gone for it. Instead I decided that I´ve dealt with enough stress and headache on this leg of the trip. Seeking it out just didn´t seem prudent.<br />
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Meeting Dave was entertainment enough anyway. He said some funny stuff. Most notably ´Man the thing that gets me is that they caught me with 2.5 kilos of the finest yay you´ll ever see, and then sent me right back to where they make the shit!´ Dave´s lucky to be getting out soon. The growing notoriaty surrounding the prison has finally forced the government to build a replacement outside of town complete with guards and rules. According to Dave, it´s a priveledge to still remain in San Pedro, which shuts down completely in February. It must be; he was bitching that they wouldn´t let him in until dusk.<br />
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Tomorrow Charlie and I head south while Anna is moving to Cochabamba for a few months to study Spanish. It´s been a real fun reunion despite my gut-rot, but everybody´s got places to be. Given the way all of our minds operate, though, this won´t be the last time we meet up. The world is getting smaller every day.Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-42908581982006348562011-10-12T17:02:00.000-07:002011-10-25T06:44:13.551-07:00Do the Picchu<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">With Machu Picchu in the books I can finally leave Peru.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Peru is a cool country, but it was slightly soured for me by police corruption, food poisoning, and a blown suspension. </span>Charlie and I left Cusco this morning after shipping a slew of junk home from the post office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sent my backpack, work boots, ‘waterproof’ liners, Mountain Hardwear fleece, gaiters, and a few other garments totaling 6.25 kilos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For $65 it was boxed and shipped; not bad considering DHL would have charge around $300.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On top of that I left my spare oil, Pelican case, mounting rack, and a few other things I haven’t used in the last six months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All told, I think I dropped around 25lbs while making my luggage system much easier to work with given the new waterproof duffel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hopping back on the fully loaded bike today, I was glad I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After 2,000 kilometers to Lima and back without side panniers I got accustomed to a super light, nimble ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Riding out of Cusco with all my gear today felt much more like piloting a boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Momentum plays a much bigger role.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brakes act much softer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the power is subdued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a five hour ride to Puno on Lake Titicaca and most of it was straight highway above 4,000 meters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the first ride I’ve spent much time in fifth gear at real high altitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lack of oxygen in the air took a dramatic toll on my power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to coax the engine from gear to gear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The throttle response was muted and I couldn’t crack open the power at a moment’s notice like I’m used to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The struggle at altitude was something we knew was coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just cruise at 65mph now and make sure I’ve got plenty of space to slowly pass the semis up here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d better get used to it; Bolivia is landlocked in the Andes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">To sum up our Peruvian experience, Charlie and I were pulled over by another set of corrupt cops just before Puno.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They decided that we needed insurance (we don’t).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We argued with them this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All they could say to us was that the fine was really big… I nodded while Charlie took pictures of them and wrote down their names.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They never even tried to explain the classic process of keeping our license until we paid the courthouse the next morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They just wanted us to offer up the bribe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With disgusted looks on our faces Charlie and I just sat there and argued until they’d had enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one in charge gave us back our fake licenses and looked at Charlie screaming ‘maybe you’re allowed to in your country, but here in Peru you do not take pictures of police officers!’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie’s response was simple, ‘because in my country the officers aren’t corrupt’.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tomorrow we cross into Bolivia over Lake Tititcaca.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we’re lucky we’ll get to see the floating villages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If not, I’ll have a reason to come back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll stop in La Paz for a night or two catching up with Anna before she heads off to start he Spanish courses and we haul towards the salt flats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’ll be a fun, although brief, reunion and hopefully she can show us some of the better parts of La Paz.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As for Machu Picchu, it delivered as promised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The train up to Aguas Calientes was a relaxing break from the bikes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peru Rail offers a pretty good service with the train following the river up the Sacred Valley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The windows in the ceiling offer plenty of incredible views of the towering mountains overhead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a wet green valley leading up on both sides into the fog above.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every few minutes the clouds would break and the snowcapped peaks in the distance materialized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aguas Calientes is the jumping point to Machu Picchu; it’s a small town that seems to be built entirely on servicing its 2,500 daily visitors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie and I spent the night there after our train ride and then caught a bus up to the park the next day at 5:00am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Unlike a lot of parks in these countries, you don’t have free range in Machu Picchu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are set paths to follow that lead you through the park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are plenty of opportunities to get sidetracked, but it was nothing like Tikal, where I scrambled whatever wall I wanted and bushwacked jungle the entire way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Machu Picchu is a different scenario, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s too small to let everyone wander.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are also way more ways to kill yourself up there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The terracing is even more incredible than the pictures display; it is endless, spreading up and down all sides of the mountain deep into the fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One slip and you can tumble thousands of feet down into the valley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The remaining buildings were striking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There seem to be entire neighborhoods of walls standing on all sides of the park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only part missing was the roofs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stonework is unbelievable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stones the size of refrigerators are jig sawed together tightly that there are absolutely no gaps between them, and no mortar either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It must have taken ages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stones don’t follow a particular pattern or standard shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead it’s as if they grabbed one, shaved it down to fit perfectly on top of the last, and then grabbed the next one randomly and did the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It paid off; the walls are still standing centuries later.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the far side of the park is Wayna Picchu, the mountain that you always see in the background of MP photos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie and I paid an extra $10 entry fee so we could climb to the top and look down on the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a wild hike up slippery rock to the top and unfortunately the view down below was constantly marred by the fog passing through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It rained most of the time we were at Machu Picchu, but that was alright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rain made the rocks slippery, but also reminded me of home with all the green ferns sprouting up everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I could go on, but we’ve all seen pictures of the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seeing it firsthand is something entirely different, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scope is much more dramatic and seeing the surrounding area really brings an appreciation for just how ridiculous the idea of building a city there really was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting there amongst the clouds on a saddle between two mountains teetering thousands of feet over the Sacred Valley in the middle of the Peruvian Andes… it deserves the recognition as one of the last remaining wonders of the world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As the day wore on Charlie and I started to get tired and hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had taken a couple hundred photos and were thoroughly soaked from the constant drizzle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The place was only getting busier by the minute, so by noon we were back on the bus heading back down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We caught the train back to Cusco that night and slept most of the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sunday I changed oil and gave the bike a good inspection, replacing several bolts that had rattled off in Peru.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the evening I went over to Norton Rat’s and drank myself into a very jovial mood as the Packers scored 25 unanswered points against the Falcons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was great, and I paid for it today riding with a headache.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-81591079055826408592011-10-06T19:47:00.000-07:002011-10-06T19:59:01.208-07:00Hold on Tight!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Back in Cusco, Charlie and I are beating feet to get out of Peru.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We pulled in late yesterday, got our daily McDonald’s fix, then passed out early.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ride over was a blur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We blew past Nazca (home of the famous Nazca lines) for the second time in a week without stopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something about hopping in a rickety Peruvian Cessna to see more deserts didn’t sound appealing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mountain pass was much easier on us this time around; we hit it mid-morning accompanied by sunlight and blue skies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless of how well we knew the road, all told it was still a very long ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today I woke up and got right to business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First Charlie and I went down to the Ministry of Tourism to buy our Machu Picchu tickets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were $50 each including access to the nearby mountain Huana Picchu, which offers the view that you’ve all seen in post cards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next we bought the train tickets to get us up there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MP is a good distance from Cusco, and it’s not directly accessible by motorcycle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So for once, we’re going to put our feet up and let someone else do the driving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the roads, the drivers, and Alex’s most recent accident, I feel privileged for every mile I don’t have to ride around here. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tomorrow we catch the train at 7:00am that leads to Agua Calientes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There we spend the night and wake up even earlier to catch the park at sunrise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Machu Picchu seemed so distant for so much of this trip and now it’s 24 hours away. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve come a long distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the afternoon after touring the park we’ll come back to Cusco via the train and spend all of Sunday preparing to continue south.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">While out and about I also had my side rack fixed where it had rattled a hole through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a cab take me to a welding shop and explained to the blacksmith what I needed done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He nodded confidently and finished the job in twenty minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rack is stronger than it ever was. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The price: $3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave him $6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I went across the street and bought motorcycle oil for my second change in Peru.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sitting right at 3,000 miles after all of our looping around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could wait it out a bit longer, but Charlie’s changing his so it’s an opportune time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I also did a load of laundry and got a haircut, so I’m feeling pretty fresh at the moment (although my hands are still covered in grease like normal).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve decided to keep my side panniers for a while, at least until Santiago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My suspension is better, but still not as stiff as I’d like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was considering dropping everything but the essentials from here on out; instead I’ll think it over a bit more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll be sending the important items home from Cusco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anything else I refuse to carry can be left in the ditch for all I care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Santiago is coming up on the horizon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time we leave Cusco, it will be less than five weeks away. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five weeks to cover all of Bolivia and half of Chile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m still not even sure I want to see Bolivia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I here it’s amazing, and I’m sure it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this is vacation too; crossing another country that doesn’t sell my bike sounds harrowing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end, I’m sure I’ll end up there, but I’ll be dragging my feet crossing that border instead of bolting straight for north Chile.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I consider Santiago to be a massive fork in the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s either a spot to batten down the hatches and double my adventure efforts, or wind down the trip and start the process of getting home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Depending on how the first week of travel goes with my fixed suspension, I might have a new, stronger rear shock sent to my house for my mom to bring down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I end up putting a $700 unit into the bike, I’ll intend to get quite a few more miles out of it down here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have a Suzuki dealership install it while they give the bike an oil bath and rejuvenate it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Or I could pull in, drop the kickstand for the final time, and call it the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Santiago is said to be the best port south of Colombia for shipping bikes home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Buenos Aires is apparently more expensive than normal right now due to elevated port fees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m finally at the point where I need to keep an eye on my bank account.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got time, but if it’s coming to a decision of ship the bike home and go home with a landing pad or go for broke down here and come home shirtless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s hard to say; there’s a lot of times when I feel like the novelty has worn off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I keep thinking about my next trip now (probably Alaska).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How I’ll build the bike better, plan better, pack better, and do it all with just a little more maturity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all makes me so excited that I really want to get home and start saving money all over again while tinkering on a whole new DR650 with all the right modifications.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the same time, there’s no need to jump the gun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am, after all, on a pretty cool DR flying towards Tierra del Fuego at age 24 at the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like living in the Moontower, this is something no sum of money or planning could ever replicate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I’m out there gliding along above the tree line with the motor whining between my legs and the wind in my face, I can’t imagine getting off the bike until I’ve spent my last dollar on just one more tank of gas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time will tell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just excited for Machu Picchu right now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And also, I received an email the other day from a reader who’s been unsatisfied with my reports as of late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s a portionof what he had to say:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘…you’ve devoted an inordinate amount of press to things that displease you. We get it. Point made. We know shit exists now get-past-it. Leave the smelly third world if it’s so irritating. Find your dream job at a surf shop or in the mountains but please STOP BITCHING. It’s a dreadful habit.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ll keep this short and to the point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are not fucking bedtime stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reading the hard times is getting you down? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Try riding them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If my realities are too harsh, then pick up a Lonely Planet, because this is an adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll write the good, the bad, and the beautiful. So hold on tight!</span></div>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-50648654500690898892011-10-03T21:38:00.003-07:002011-10-03T21:38:40.561-07:00A Different Trip<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">October 2<sup>nd</sup> marked six months on the road for Alex and me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a miraculous feat that we made it this far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it really hasn’t been easy in distant memory given multiple accidents, constant mechanical failures, and a near kidnapping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It certainly hasn’t weakened my resolve to keep going, but the fairy tale ride we imagined has been much more a battle than I planned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">No more fitting for this stage is another bad draw for Alex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was in Ecuador two days away from Lima when a sixty year-old drunk man stepped into his lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Al was doing 50mph and the impact sounds pretty grizzly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The old man is alive with critical injuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alex escaped with a fractured collar bone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the bike needs work too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A more detailed account is on Alex’s blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a lot to take in for me and I can’t imagine what it means to Alex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’ll need about two weeks to clean up all the loose ends up there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sounds positive, but there’s been plenty of talk of sending the bike home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who can blame him?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sending the bike home means I continue indefinitely with Charlie or whoever along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just strange to imagine Alex off the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sending the bike home doesn’t mean he can’t continue; there are other means of transportation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just a prospect I never thought either of us would face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t continue because the real debate is starting on ADVrider right now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A year ago October 1<sup>st</sup> is when I landed in Juneau, AK, the end of a very long and exciting twelve months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Four months driving truck six days a week in -35F degrees followed by two months of trip preparation, skiing, weekend in Vegas and then six months on a motorcycle in Central and South America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen and experienced quite a range of life in one year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unbelievable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, looking forward now, there’s a lot on the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s still the November 15<sup>th</sup> deadline to be in Santiago to pick up mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plenty of time, but it’s fast approaching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m doing away with my Pelican case on the rear rack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bought a waterproof duffel bag here in Lima that can combine the case’s contents and the Sea-to-Summit bag’s into one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t really trust the waterproofing, so I bought a pack cover to put over it if need be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s lighter than the pelican case, less hassle and it gives me an opportunity to use the Pacsafe I’ve been toting this whole time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was only $70 for the whole setup so if I’m not satisfied by Santiago I’ll have my mom bring down some Wolfman gear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s an exciting adjustment though because at the same time I’ll be shipping home a lot of volume and weight from Cusco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll be able to put all the weight where I want it and still have plenty of capacity for whatever comes along in the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m really excited to hop on the bike with the rebuilt suspension and a lot less weight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a welcome adjustment after all that destructive dirt.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today we met an Australian girl at the hostel currently riding a Chinese bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a shame she’s going north.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This ride has been a testicle festival for a while now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So after six months there have been a lot of blows but still remaining is plenty of opportunity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think in a week’s time the dust will settle on Al’s situation and we’ll have a clear plan on his future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometime soon here Charlie and I need to put the armor back on and face the road again too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve got one thing on my mind right now: red wine and Argentinean steak.</span></div>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-40003523895467980862011-09-30T20:11:00.001-07:002011-10-25T08:19:05.192-07:00Back in the Game<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A lot has happened since we first arrived in Cusco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all that dirt on the way it was supposed to be the promised land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gringos, bike expertise, and of course Macchu Pichu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it turned out, though, within three days we were back on the road heading for Lima again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Monday Charlie and I finally found some motivation to get off our asses; it was time to make a decision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First we went to DHL to inquire about having a shock sent down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was doable, but there would be a 30% import tax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently used items are even more difficult than new.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pat in California’s option took a hit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Furthermore, no one could truly recommend a mechanic in Cusco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were a lot of maybes and pretty sures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was wearing me down.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Charlie and I went to a hardware store after DHL and bought a hammer and long flathead screwdriver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We used them to tighten the spring on my suspension.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To do this you have to prop the bike up so the rear wheel is off the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The spring goes around the threaded shock and is held down by two discs with little knobs coming off them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You lodge the screwdriver between the knobs and hammer them around the threads very slowly lowering them and thereby tightening the spring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We lowered the spring about an inch total.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That got the bike sitting higher, but the resistance was still way too soft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I noticed the mechanic in Huancayo hadn’t turned my rebound all the way up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rebound measures the resistance given by the shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the lowered spring and tightened rebound I was starting to wonder if I could make it to Chile on the weak shock.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chile is the next promised land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For one, they sell the DR650 there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s also the wealthiest country in South America so professional tradesmen are easier to find.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Best of all, my mom is flying in on November 15<sup>th</sup> for two weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that point I can have her bring any parts my heart desires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless, that was seven weeks and +/-3,000 miles away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Next I got on to cleaning my air filter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t due yet, but I’m beginning to appreciate the idea of preventative maintenance more and more these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I was soaking it in hot dish soap water Charlie made a discovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His right fork was leaking oil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now we both had serious suspension problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie had KTM’s WP forks put on his Tenere in California.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only shop that would have those seals in a 2,000 mile radius was KTM in Lima.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So in about two seconds it was decided that we’d leave for Lima on Tuesday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My repairs were getting nowhere anyway and I was tired of getting such underachieving advice from everyone in Cusco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie and I have been talking about making some serious weight loss attempts since we took off together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, we’re not getting pudgy; we’re just carrying too much shit that we don’t use.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lima was only 700 miles north and we didn’t plan to be there long so we decided to remove the side panniers and ride with only the essentials.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I got all my tools, spares, clothes, electronics, and a slew of other stuff into my yellow Sea to Summit bag and my dad’s purple backpack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only issue was waterproofing so I lined the leaky luggage with garbage bags.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bungeed them both down on the back rack and Tuesday morning we took off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bike rode like a gazelle without the side boxes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was so light and responsive and there was no wind resistance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The suspension was strong enough that I could hit the corners pretty hard as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were making good time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We got to Abancay just after noon, stopped for lunch, and kept going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t research this ride because it was such a simple mission: get to Lima as fast as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What we didn’t know as we left Abancay was that we were coming up on 190 miles of mountain passes and high plains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An hour out of town the clouds started forming overhead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no turning around, so we just geared up and rode right in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time we got to 4,000 meters the rain was pounding and turning to slush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was 4:00pm and dark grey everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were right in the middle of the harshest point on the Panamerican highway and there was nothing to do but keep going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We rode through the snow on wet roads until 7:00pm that night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stranded at over 4,000 meters in the dark in a snowstorm on a motorcycle was never the plan, but staying on the road was our only option.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the only time in the last 15,000 miles that I didn’t have my camping equipment and I was regretting it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finally the pass peaked at 4,600 meters and afterward the snow turned back into rain and around 6:30 the roads dried up completely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lost feeling in all my fingers and most of my toes up there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stopped at the first little town on the other side of the mountains and went to bed feeling quite lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My bike had sagged back to its lowest position by the end of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We won’t be attempting that section of the road in the afternoon on the way back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wednesday we hit the road early and knocked down 400 miles, pulling back into Flying Dog Hostel in Miraflores district at 5:00pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All they had open was a matrimonial room so Charlie and I got to share a bed that night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thursday morning we rode to KTM, where we bought our TKC-80’s two weeks prior, and explained our dilemma to their mechanics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Charlie was in luck; they had his fork seals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His bike would be ready before Monday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mine was a different story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Depending on a lot of factors, they figured about a week if it all went right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had expected this scenario, but to actually hear it and face it was devastating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another week in Lima?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another week in Peru?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If the third world was getting to me in Colombia, it has absolutely broken me at this point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m all for culture, but at some point all the half-assing around here takes its toll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The culture of what is acceptable and safe is just so different down here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told the mechanic I wanted my suspension to work in Huancayo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure by his standards it was working just fine when I brought it in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He proudly gave it back to me that next morning a little better, but still soft by any professional’s standards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hostel here advertises Wi-Fi and hot water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both are barely there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When a restaurant runs out of eggs, they don’t tell you; you just don’t get eggs with your breakfast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone is accustomed to such low standards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when you’re trying to get a big motorcycle roadworthy, it’s extremely frustrating.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That afternoon was another low point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was 700 miles north of Cusco, which I had fought so hard to get to, and still I had no answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bike was in good hands, but even they were scratching their heads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was getting real down imagining myself stuck in Lima for the better part of a month waiting for parts, customs, and shitty mechanics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remembered that the bike import wasn’t a stamp on my passport like other countries; it was a separate piece of paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could leave the country without the bike no hassles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just leave it on the side of the road even and walk away with only a backpack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before the trip’s future got too dark Charlie and I decided to head down to the hostel bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There we met some German girls and decided to head out to a discotech with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out of nowhere, Charlie and I ended up staying up until 5:00am forgetting about the motorcycles for the first time in weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a blast; the disco was full of university kids both Peruvian and gringo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">At one point I met a Peruvian girl who seemed pretty cool until she told me that the United States overreacted to 9/11.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said deaths in such numbers were insignificant to the problems Peru constantly deals with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a privileged American I usually brush off the judgmental comments like that, but this time I got offended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about explaining to her that the first world has been in turmoil since the attacks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or contrasting that at home we are accustomed to prosperity and progress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elaborating that it was a loss on the grandest scale possible for our country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I realized how far removed she was from grasping any of it so I gave up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I almost could have remarked that not a single person in the United States even knew that the city of Yungay and all of its 75,000 residents were buried in an avalanche in 1970.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end I held my tongue and said we’re a proud country, just like Peru.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That conversation was over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Halfway through the night Charlie and I got separated and it was each man for himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We both managed to trudge home and safely retire before sunup… barely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, Friday, we woke up around noon with an email waiting for us from KTM.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They wanted to see us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We taxied over there mid-afternoon to find Charlie’s bike all ready to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mine was disassembled in the corner and the shock had been sent to Lima’s premier suspension expert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I waited around until 4:30pm and one of the mechanics drove me across town to the expert to hear his verdict.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we arrived the mechanic asked Dinno (the specialist) what he thought about the shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He casually replied that it was fixed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was cautious, but excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took me in to his shop where he had the shock in a vice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the spring removed, he compressed the shock all the way down and as soon as he let go it gradually raised back up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said that it was staying down before he fixed it… ‘as if you’re just riding a spring right?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exactly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was so nice to talk to someone who actually knew what I wanted out of his service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said my bladder had leaked, something that is common over time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He even figured crossing the mountain passes had played a roll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked him what he did and he mentioned replacing all the oil, nitrogen, and a couple other things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not a shock guy and between our Spanglish conversation some of it was lost on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked him if it would get me to Argentina supporting all of my luggage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said definitely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He charged me $100 and that was that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m a little hesitant to put full faith in his fix, but he’s KTM’s suspension guy and seemed so confident and level-headed about the whole thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A garage full of Japanese and European bikes was promising too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if the unit only gets me to Chile, that’ll be good enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So the spirits are high again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow I pick up the bike in the morning once they reinstall the shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then we’ll be leaving here as soon as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Al is working his way down right now from Colombia and might show up in the next few days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll be in close touch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As for now, it seems that the darkest hour has passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s only one more third world country between me and Santiago… and it’s the poorest of them all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll try to have a better attitude about Bolivia, but it’s going to have to really impress me if I’m going to stick around long.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Next stop is Cusco again via the easy route (the 700 miles through snow route).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There we will quickly do Macchu Pichu and I will send A LOT of gear home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the ride out here it struck me; I set out for 2,000 kilometers with just two light bags.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What the hell is all of the other stuff?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unnecessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My plan is to ditch the Pelican case, send the camping gear home, and get everything into the side boxes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keep the weight low and forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then tear up Bolivia.</span></div>Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-6196529649055867762011-09-25T22:16:00.000-07:002011-09-25T22:16:42.809-07:00ADVrescue<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day Two in Cusco and my spirits haven’t been higher in
weeks.<span> </span>Either that or they just got real
low over the final 500 miles since Huancayo.<span>
</span>The seemingly short ride to Cusco was all dirt and took three days of
backbreaking riding from dawn until well past dusk.<span> </span>My rear suspension sank even lower and my
bike rattled to bits the entire time.<span>
</span>For a while there, it seemed like there was no end in sight and that the
real mechanical headaches would start once we arrived.<span> </span>As soon as we arrived in town, though, it all
turned around.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Charlie and I pulled into Huancayo we flagged a taxi
and told him to take us to the nicest hotel in town.<span> </span>We hadn’t seen internet in a week and most
nights our hotel rooms more resembled prison cells.<span> </span>The cab took us to Hotel Presidente.<span> </span>At $80/night it wasn’t cheap, but it was the
shot of civility that we needed.<span> </span>Great
beds, HDTV, hot water bath tub, and blazing internet.<span> </span>We indulged late into the night.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next morning while packing his gear Charlie noticed that
his SW Motech racks had broken in two places somewhere along the previous three
days of dirt.<span> </span>The breaks were bad enough
that they had to be welded immediately.<span>
</span>We checked in for another night and took off for the mechanic’s district
down the street.<span> </span>Our first stop was
Honda and they said they could weld Charlie’s racks and fix my suspension that
day.<span> </span>Then they said they couldn’t.<span> </span>Then the little 4’5” Peruvian mechanic needed
to take Charlie’s bike for a ‘test ride’.<span>
</span>He had to pull his ass all the way off the seat just to get one leg on
the ground.<span> </span>No helmet, he ripped down
the street with a huge smile on his face as the rear tire flared out to the
side and then jerked back into alignment.<span>
</span>Charlie just had to watch and hope.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the mechanic came back he said he knew a more
specialized shop that could do the work that day.<span> </span>We followed him there and met an even shorter
guy.<span> </span>I showed the new mechanic my soft
rear end and Charlie mimed that where he wanted welds and reinforcements.<span> </span>He seemed to understand, although wasn’t
paying much attention to our requests.<span>
</span>We left the bikes with fingers crossed and went back to Hotel Presidente
to soak in the luxury some more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next morning we were waiting outside the mechanic’s
front door at 10:00am ready to go.<span> </span>He
showed up ten minutes late but seemed confident.<span> </span>He brought us in and first showed us Charlie’s
racks.<span> </span>He had welded them, and
apparently reinforced them, and even painted back over the job.<span> </span>It looked alright from a distance, but as it
turned out it was a pretty sloppy job and very poor quality paint.<span> </span>My bike was sitting noticeably higher.<span> </span>He had tightened my spring a bit and from
what I gathered refilled my shock with something (oil, gas, or nitrogen).<span> </span>It wasn’t great, but the rebound was a little
bit stronger.<span> </span>I figured it would get me
to Cusco.<span> </span>He charged each of us $60
(included bleeding my brakes) and we were off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mounting Charlie’s boxes back on the poorly welded racks was
a real dilemma back at the hotel.<span> </span>We
managed to jam them on there around noon and then hit the road.<span> </span>By the time we left town my bike had sagged
back to its lowest position yet.<span> </span>And
then came seven hours of hard pack dirt, mud, and gravel.<span> </span>The scenery that day was more of the same,
sparsely populated highlands.<span> </span>It was a
good look at some real hard living as we pulled through the dusty villages
along the way.<span> </span>People out there didn’t
look at us with smiles; they looked confused, startled, and often
resentful.<span> </span>They were friendly enough
when we stopped, but the social disconnect was obvious between us.<span> </span>This was a world that time forgot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Around 5:00pm Charlie and I pulled over and asked for
directions like we do every twenty miles.<span>
</span>We had taken the wrong path.<span> </span>It
took half an hour to get back to the turnoff that led to Ayacucho, our next
destination. <span> </span>The turnoff was unsigned
and hidden off on the right side behind a building.<span> </span>Straight ahead led to nowhere; the tiny turn
to the right led to everywhere.<span> </span>Not a
single sign to designate the two.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back on track an hour behind schedule the sun started to dip
behind the mountains.<span> </span>We were still a
long way from Ayacucho.<span> </span>Tired and
beaten, we finally pulled into Churcampa in pitch black at 7:00pm.<span> </span>The place had a hotel and everyone in town
was very excited to help us.<span> </span>Some kids
organized parking for us behind the gates of the local Catholic Church.<span> </span>Right next door was our hotel.<span> </span>It worked out well and Charlie and I were
both asleep by 10:00pm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We awoke at 5:00am the next morning and were on the road
soon after.<span> </span>Since we hadn’t made it to
Ayacucho, we had some miles to make up if we planned to get to Cusco by
dusk.<span> </span>It looked doable.<span> </span>I started asking around how long it would take.<span> </span>The answers ranged from six hours to two
days.<span> </span>Nobody had a clue how far it
was.<span> </span>These people didn’t leave their homes.<span> </span>They may have been to Cusco once fifteen
years ago.<span> </span>It was hard for us to fathom
as Westerners who will drive three hundred miles just for a weekend.<span> </span><span> </span>Whatever it was, Cusco was far away.<span> </span>Worst of all, we were in the middle of
nowhere.<span> </span>It was either go back to Lima
via two days of dirt, or keep pushing for Cusco via days of dirt.<span> </span>No escape.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On that section of the ride I hit a low point.<span> </span>The bike was rattling worse than it ever had
been.<span> </span>Some of it was mental; my pannier
locks bounce and the sound gnaws at my sanity.<span>
</span>Some of it was real; my rack was still loose and jiggling around on the
left side.<span> </span>Every bump hit harder than
usual with the rear shock out.<span> </span>I went
from resenting the bike, to pitying it, to praying for it.<span> </span>My back was knotted up from the last week of
rigid dirt riding.<span> </span>My shoulder had a
piercing pain concentrated in one spot from constantly adjusting the
throttle.<span> </span>I had been putting off all of
these things for days now and with Cusco sounding further and further out of
reach it was all coming down on me.<span> </span>Of
course there was nothing to do but keep my eyes on the road and navigate the
course.<span> </span>Eventually I started in on a
very complicated series of mental math calculations and decided Cusco was in
fact within reach by the day’s end.<span> </span>That
was my light at the end of the tunnel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a while it looked like we were going to make it.<span> </span>The first seven hours of dirt went by easily
enough and by noon the time estimates had dropped to twelve to eighteen
hours.<span> </span>We kept pushing through the
mountains weaving from one range to the next over all the ridges in between.<span> </span>Around 3:00pm we got to Andahuaylas.<span> </span>140 kilometers further and the pavement
started.<span> </span>We gave the local kids some
candy, got gas, and tore into the dirt again.<span>
</span>The prospect of making it to Cusco was finally put to bed when we got
stopped at a construction zone and told it would be an hour wait.<span> </span>They were paving the road.<span> </span>Finally, in 2011, Peru got around to
connecting some of its most important dots.<span>
</span>We were a year too early to benefit.<span>
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unfortunately they were only paving a short section and we
quickly were back on dirt after they set us loose.<span> </span>Just like the last five days the road was
about 1.5 lanes wide.<span> </span>I hit the wide
corners fast when I could see around them and the sharp corners slow and
inside.<span> </span>Right as the sun was setting, my
lines proved to be not enough.<span> </span>I was
riding the inside of a curve when a semi emerged from around the corner.<span> </span>I got right on the shoulder next to the ditch
and snuck by him and his trailer.<span> </span>Right
behind him was another semi; he was taking the curve a little sharper.<span> </span>His trailer was coming around the inside
riding the shoulder that I had planned to finish out on.<span> </span>There was no point in protesting or
evaluating; I rode right down into the two foot deep ditch and promptly dropped
the bike against the hill in the soft mud.<span>
</span>Charlie was too far ahead to notice, so it took me a few minutes to
figure out how to straighten the bars and right the bike on my own.<span> </span>Even though it wasn’t all the way on its
side, the ditch made it challenging to get any leverage to pull it up.<span> </span>Finally I weaseled my way between the hill
and the bike and pushed it up.<span> </span>Then I had
to get on and out of the ditch.<span> </span>I got
real muddy, but it actually went pretty smoothly after that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By then the sun had set and we still had forty dirt miles to
go.<span> </span>Charlie and I have been caught in
the dark lately and it’s never our intention.<span>
</span>We’ve been pushing ourselves to keep up with Ivan’s route and the maps
are often very deceiving.<span> </span>Even worse is
that the sun goes down early behind the walls of mountains.<span> </span>Regardless, we had to finish.<span> </span>Downhill dirt roads in the dark with cliffs
around every corner were not fun for the next hour and a half.<span> </span>It seemed to go on forever, but we finally
pulled into Abancay around 7:30pm.<span> </span>The
ten day dirt battle was over.<span> </span>I’m not sure
that I won, but I survived.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday afternoon after 130 miles of mountainous pavement
we pulled into Cusco.<span> </span>We settled in a
motorcycle hangout hotel called Casa Grande and instantly crawled into bed with
our computers.<span> </span>First on my agenda was
sending out the S.O.S.<span> </span>I explained my
suspension situation on both ADVrider and Horizons Unlimited asking the experts
for ideas.<span> </span>This whole trip was organized
by information from those forums and there was no doubt they’d have ideas for
this road bump.<span> </span>I posted my distress
calls and went down to Norton Rat’s Tavern for a pint of keg beer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Norton Rat’s is known to be a motorcycle knowledge mill and
I went there looking for Ivan’s friend Jeff Powers.<span> </span>Jeff wasn’t there, but they had ESPN on in
English so I stuck around.<span> </span>When I got
back to the hotel my luck had already changed.<span>
</span>An ADVrider inmate named Pat from California had already gotten back to
me.<span> </span>Pat had been following Alex’s and my
blogs from the start and he rides a DR650 at home himself.<span> </span>His profile stats show him to be an expert
and he had (relatively) good news.<span>
</span>Although I already had resigned to it, it was sad to hear that my rear
shock was obviously blown and in need of a replacement or a professional
rebuild.<span> </span>Rebuilds are technical and I’d
already been ripped off once.<span>
</span>Replacements don’t exist in Peru.<span>
</span>That’s where I’m at now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The good news is that Pat has a spare stock shock at home
that he’s willing to ship down at the rock bottom price of $150. <span> </span>I had looked into buying some $1000
replacement shock, but Charlie made a good point that putting 1/3 of the bike’s
value into one component isn’t the smartest financial decision… especially
since I don’t know that I’ll even own the machine in six months’ time.<span> </span>The only problem is that Peruvian customs are
known to halt delivery on such items and start up a nasty import tax process
that could waste a lot of my time and force me to show up in Lima.<span> </span>I’m still working the details out on that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today I went back to Norton Rat’s and talked to Jeff
Powers.<span> </span>He recommended me to a trusted
mechanic whom I’ll check out tomorrow morning.<span>
</span>I pondered that and watched the Packers dominate the Bears over more
draft beer in the evening.<span> </span>If the
mechanic doesn’t have a quick, local solution, I’m left with two options.<span> </span>Slow Alex down and have him buy me a shock in
Colombia where my bike is sold, or have Pat send down the shock and potentially
deal with customs.<span> </span>Right now all signs
point to Pat.<span> </span>I just have to do a little
more research to make the process as smooth as possible.<span> </span>I’d also like to thank Darrell from the
community as well.<span> </span>We met in Mazatlan in
the motorcycle parade and he’s been in touch on the blogs ever since.<span> </span>Today he offered some sound mechanic advice
on my situation as well as a generous cash donation to Alex’s Paypal account.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ADVrider community proved its worth yet again.<span> </span>Even when we’re out here with the odds
stacked against us there is a legion of supporters ready to jump in and help in
any way.<span> </span>There aren’t not a lot of
people out here riding motorcycles around the world ignoring all the fearful
warnings, and that makes it a very tight group.<span>
</span>I’ll make up my mind in the next 24 hours on how to get this part down
here and if I make the wrong decision, I rest assured there’ll be more people
to help bail me out.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-26221816586208101062011-09-20T19:45:00.000-07:002011-09-20T19:45:23.225-07:00Fotos IXHere are some of the better pictures of Peru so far. There should be plenty more to come. Check out the latest report below. Also, you can click on these photos to enlarge them. I just realized that.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ad6I4CJ8voQ/TnlLmigFW_I/AAAAAAAAAKU/hfU-RUdacvY/s1600/North+Peru+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ad6I4CJ8voQ/TnlLmigFW_I/AAAAAAAAAKU/hfU-RUdacvY/s640/North+Peru+001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My bike vs. Charlie's in the lonely Peruvian desert between the Ecuador border and Lima.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-erLvb1hc2DU/TnlL1bcyi8I/AAAAAAAAAKY/zyS9Z0Ys370/s1600/North+Peru+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-erLvb1hc2DU/TnlL1bcyi8I/AAAAAAAAAKY/zyS9Z0Ys370/s640/North+Peru+010.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These dunes came and went the whole way down.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ka2_G4BnIQo/TnlK9krRsHI/AAAAAAAAAKI/QvrpCfL0jCs/s1600/Huaraz+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ka2_G4BnIQo/TnlK9krRsHI/AAAAAAAAAKI/QvrpCfL0jCs/s640/Huaraz+003.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie taking in our very first view of the Cordillera Blanca.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ntd2aKoHCmA/TnlLKpDcy3I/AAAAAAAAAKM/B0ZQHsJXQM0/s1600/Huaraz+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ntd2aKoHCmA/TnlLKpDcy3I/AAAAAAAAAKM/B0ZQHsJXQM0/s640/Huaraz+010.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's the lake and glacier that we hiked to from The Way Inn.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3vq0hO8ld9g/TnlLYmmX1TI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/_nIZUnLHC9E/s1600/Huaraz+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3vq0hO8ld9g/TnlLYmmX1TI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/_nIZUnLHC9E/s640/Huaraz+018.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And another shot from the ride that day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CxR7wFCfQvA/TnlJ2_V-R_I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/EpKsq_LPRtU/s1600/40+Tunnels+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CxR7wFCfQvA/TnlJ2_V-R_I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/EpKsq_LPRtU/s640/40+Tunnels+007.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">36 tunnels in 17 kilometers. You can see two here. The scale of the valley is impossible to convey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92f-1oqlgfk/TnlKJSeuWwI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/z4JLJff6SFY/s1600/40+Tunnels+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92f-1oqlgfk/TnlKJSeuWwI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/z4JLJff6SFY/s640/40+Tunnels+011.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's Charlie in front of a couple tunnels.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gk2HM8CKcU8/TnlKkriil4I/AAAAAAAAAKA/SEGw2LeGyHo/s1600/Cordillera+Blanca+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gk2HM8CKcU8/TnlKkriil4I/AAAAAAAAAKA/SEGw2LeGyHo/s640/Cordillera+Blanca+017.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking west down on the two lakes above Yungay from 15,300 feet. Struggling to breathe.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hXhLkoA0eek/TnlKwhqYX_I/AAAAAAAAAKE/aqaGGdM5ThE/s1600/Cordillera+Blanca+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hXhLkoA0eek/TnlKwhqYX_I/AAAAAAAAAKE/aqaGGdM5ThE/s640/Cordillera+Blanca+019.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the road we climbed up on.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xi-f6ZEC6nQ/TnlKXxF0xZI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/IUa1CBpqNt0/s1600/Cordillera+Blanca+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xi-f6ZEC6nQ/TnlKXxF0xZI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/IUa1CBpqNt0/s640/Cordillera+Blanca+001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One last shot of the Cordillera Blanca after we came down from Huari. 'These are the days you should be having'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-31228442054937829642011-09-20T19:15:00.001-07:002011-09-20T19:15:57.899-07:00Adventureland<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
9/18/2011- New Heights<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last three days have been absolutely draining, although
full of adventure.<span> </span>Except for the worst
food poisoning I’ve experienced in my life this morning, the Cordillera Blanca
has continued to deliver.<span> </span>Charlie and I
left The Way Inn late Friday morning after we both repacked our panniers.<span> </span>I culled a few small items, but more
importantly packed all my heavy items toward the front of the boxes for a
better ride.<span> </span>Down in Huaraz we made a
stop at the city’s only trusted ‘big’ motorcycle mechanic. <span> </span>We needed Herbert to remove a nut holding
Charlie’s front sprocket on since none of us had a 30mm socket.<span> </span>Herbert and his brother loved our bikes and
gave us a lot of good advice.<span> </span>They sent
us off around 1:00pm heading north for Huallanca.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Charlie and I had been debating for days where to go after
Huaraz.<span> </span>We fantasized about going up and
around the range then eventually meeting up with Ivan’s route.<span> </span>We also wanted to cross through the
middle.<span> </span>Before any decisions, though, we
had to go to Huallanca.<span> </span>Every
motorcyclist I’ve met heading north has told me about the road from Huaraz to
Huallanca.<span> </span>It’s well-renowned as one of
the coolest roads in the world by experts.<span>
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a gas stop in Yungay, we were ready to experience all
the hype.<span> </span>Just north of Huaraz, Canyon
del Pato starts.<span> </span>It’s a canyon at least
1,000 meters deep with nearly vertical walls.<span>
</span>The road led in from the highlands winding down until it spat us on the
West side of the canyon.<span> </span>With seventeen
kilometers remaining before Huallanca, the road turned to dirt, barely clinging
to the canyon wall.<span> </span>Then started a
series of 36 different tunnels in those next 17 kilometers.<span> </span>The road was one lane with no guard rails to
shield the 100 meter drop down to the river below.<span> </span>Throughout the descent I looked down the
stretch and could see the next several tunnels up ahead.<span> </span>Some tunnels were 10 meters long, some
500.<span> </span>All of them were dark, narrow, and
very bumpy.<span> </span>The road was built to
support a hydroelectric plant in the canyon so there were gated paths leading
deeper into the mountains inside the bigger tunnels.<span> </span>There were rope ladders hanging overhead and
precarious rocks were tied into the wall in case they gave way.<span> </span>Charlie and I both agreed it was about as
Indiana Jones as it gets rolling through these empty rock tunnels.<span> </span>All the other guys were spot on, coolest road
in the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally we burst out of the thirty-sixth tunnel into
Huallanca.<span> </span>We stopped for lunch and
pulled out the map.<span> </span>The map showed the
entire road around the range being more dirt; we talked to a construction
worker and he confirmed it.<span> </span>After a
little more deliberation we decided to head back to Yungay for the night, and
then cross the mountains via Yanama on Saturday.<span> </span>I normally hate backtracking, but heading
back through the tunnels only led to more bewilderment at the opposite
angle.<span> </span>The pictures won’t do it justice,
but I’ll get them up soon.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday morning we were up early with our eyes on the
pass.<span> </span>As soon as we left Yungay the road
turned to dirt; it was the last pavement we’d see for the next hundred
miles.<span> </span>The road for Yanama climbed up
through a valley in which two lakes had formed at around 3,500 meters.<span> </span>The lakes were a beautiful bright blue, and
fed by a glacial stream.<span> </span>Surrounding
them were little clusters of local livestock feeding off the nearby
vegetation.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From the lakes the road really got wild.<span> </span>It turned into a series of switchbacks that
piled on each other in the tightest formation I’ve seen.<span> </span>Each switchback was about an eighth mile long
and only a hundred feet above the previous.<span>
</span>We kept running into some Peruvian tourists in a taxi the whole way up
and they couldn’t get enough pictures with us.<span>
</span>Finally at 11:30am we hit the pass at 15,300 feet.<span> </span>Right at the top was the snow line and there
were flakes falling.<span> </span>It was cold, but
more dramatic was the lack of oxygen.<span>
</span>Charlie and I were both panting standing still.<span> </span>We took a lot of pictures, accepted some food
from Peruvian tourists, and then kept going.<span>
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Around 1:00pm we arrived in Panama after a steep descent
through thick fog and plenty of mud.<span> </span>We
got a pretty bland lunch,<span> </span>and then kept
pushing forward hoping to find a hotel in San Luis, where we would meet up with
the mountain loop road.<span> </span>The road kept
dropping past countless untouched Peruvian ranches that probably haven’t
changed at all in the last couple centuries; the farmers were sewing their
fields with oxen and wooden plows.<span> </span>We
pulled into San Luis around 4:00pm; it had a paved main street and that was
it.<span> </span>The place didn’t look too inviting,
so Charlie and I decided to grind even harder to the next town Huari.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The road to Huari was more of the same: dirt, potholes,
stream crossings, and no guard rails.<span> </span>It
was about forty miles and we knocked it off pretty quick considering.<span> </span>After an entire day of dirt, I was getting
pretty good at leaning a 500 pound dirt bike around hairpin curves.<span> </span>We finally got to Huari just as the sun was
setting.<span> </span>We went to the best hotel in
town, and put down $15 total for a room with three beds, cable TV, and hot
water.<span> </span>They let us park the bikes in
their garage for an extra buck each, and finally the ride was over.<span> </span>My back was completely knotted from fighting
the handle bars all day; I haven’t been happier to take a break.<span> </span>I’m happy to say the bike did surprisingly
well.<span> </span>The only mishap was a loose bolt
on my luggage racks.<span> </span>I’ll have to
tighten it up tomorrow morning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That night we went out for a quick chicken and rice dinner
in the little town center and then walked back to our hotel to pass out at
9:00pm.<span> </span>3:00am I woke up uncomfortable
with rumbling guts.<span> </span>I rolled over and
slept until 5:00am.<span> </span>That’s when I woke
up with a weak stomach and a run of diarrhea.<span>
</span>I took an Imodium and went back to bed.<span>
</span>6:30am I was on my hands and knees puking into the toilet bowl.<span> </span>For the next three hours I couldn’t get out
of the bathroom for more than ten minutes at a time.<span> </span>Several times I was taking turns on which way
to face the toilet, lucky to get a flush in between.<span> </span>As soon as the city woke up Charlie went down
to his first aid kit and came back with a drug cocktail for me.<span> </span>I started with an anti-nausea tablet and
puked it up immediately.<span> </span>Then I took
another and managed to keep it down long enough to kick in.<span> </span>Next I took two Tinidazol antibacterial pills
and later two Norfloxacin to stop the leaking.<span>
</span>That was six hours ago and everything seems to have calmed down a
bit.<span> </span>I haven’t eaten anything but some
Ritz crackers and a banana.<span> </span>I’ve kept
down plenty of Gatorade, so I’m well hydrated.<span>
</span>Tomorrow I expect to wake up weak, but functional.<span> </span>Then it’s off to Cusco; four more days of
dirt and mountains.<span> </span>We me (and the bike)
luck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9/20/11- High Times<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Charlie’s drugs worked perfectly and after one hollow day in
bed I was ready to head off.<span> </span>We took off
early in the morning from Huari destined for Huanuco, across another mountain
range.<span> </span>The first sixty kilometers were
painstakingly slow.<span> </span>It was a paved road,
mostly.<span> </span>Around every corner was a patch
of mud or gravel that made the whole ride slow and miserable.<span> </span>Every time the wind started to hit my face I
had to slam on the brakes and dodge potholes.<span>
</span>It was maddening too because I couldn’t fix my loose side rack in Huari
so every bump I could hear my racks rattle just a little bit.<span> </span>What has happened is the steel racks have
actually worn enough to rattle themselves free on the left side.<span> </span>I used Loctite to glue the bolt in last time;
I tried to get it off but was afraid of breaking my wrench.<span> </span>I’m going to limp it to Cusco and deal with
it then.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve just done some research on Cusco and apparently there
is a strong adventure rider stronghold built up.<span> </span>It makes sense; Macchu Pichu is the biggest
attraction on the continent so everyone ends up there at some point.<span> </span>There is a place called Norton Rat’s Tavern
and that will be my first stop.<span> </span>Even
more pressing than my racks is my rear shock.<span>
</span>The rear end has slowly sagged over the last 15,000 miles and six
months, but in the last 500 miles there has been a dramatic depreciation.<span> </span>When I left home I could barely touch the
ground over the bike with my tip toes.<span>
</span>Now I can stand flat footed with the seat inches below my ass.<span> </span>Even worse is the riding performance.<span> </span>Normally when I hit a speed bump, I go over
and the rear end bobs once and then settles.<span>
</span>With a shot shock it bounces up and down several times after every
bump.<span> </span>The worst is when I hit a bump
coming into a curve.<span> </span>It’s not fun
leaning at 60mph with my ass end floating up and down around the corner.<span> </span>It needs to be fixed and Cusco will be my
ticket. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After we hit the pavement outside of Huari Charlie and I
headed east into the mountains.<span> </span>The ride
was cold and often wet.<span> </span>Back in Central
America we’d feel out the rain before putting on our liners; not here.<span> </span>It’s too high to get wet, too cold.<span> </span>We had our rain gear on most of the day.<span> </span>We came over the big pass at 14,200 feet and
then started a descent towards Huanuco as the sun was starting to dip.<span> </span>It wasn’t ideal, but there was no other
option.<span> </span>Charlie and I navigated one of
the worst roads I’ve seen for at least an hour in pitch black.<span> </span>It was another steep, windy, one-lane paved
road with two-way traffic and no guard rails.<span>
</span>On the downhill side were only steep cliffs.<span> </span>It was actually better in the dark because we
could see the oncoming lights coming around the corners.<span> </span>We pulled into Huanuco tired and resolute at
7:30pm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This morning, Tuesday, we covered another 250 miles, all of
it over the mountains and arrived in Huancayo.<span>
</span>We’re on Ivan’s route and he has written in two more days before arrival
in Cusco.<span> </span>Except for the llamas and our
ride across some arid high plains, the ride was nothing spectacular.<span> </span>Just another day riding a motorcycle around
the world.<span> </span>I’m really excited for
Cusco.<span> </span>We’ve been off the gringo trail
for over a week now and I’m tired of feeling like an alien every time I pull
into town.<span> </span>It will be nice to get back
to a party scene too for a few days.<span> </span>After
that, it’s off to them Amazon and then Lake Titicaca.<span> </span><span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-46327352959568227142011-09-15T18:08:00.001-07:002011-09-15T18:10:58.392-07:00In the Andes Now<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_167634388"><br /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When I used to sit in my
hotel room in Alaska and dream about this trip I always imagined high revs on
mountain roads under a snowcapped backdrop with clouds forming in the
distance. I envisioned myself
climbing as high as the bike would go into the unknown and then ditching it in
the bushes to push even further on foot.
As it turns out, I was dreaming of Peru. Finally outside of the desert coast, this place is starting
to show its true colors and they’re like nothing I’ve ever experienced.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Charlie
and I tore out of Lima early Tuesday morning. Ivan’s route had us backtracking about 200 miles north and
we wanted to get that over with as soon as possible. We only got pulled over once on the way back up and this
time we had some fun with it. The
best strategy is to make their job as hard as possible. Step one, pull over about 500 yards
past where they flag you. Step
two, don’t shut off the engines or take off helmets. Step three, take a picture of them. Step four, ask directions. Perform these without one word of
Spanish and you’re free within minutes.
We made it to the Huaraz turnoff just after noon, filled up our tanks,
and said goodbye to the Pacific.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The rest
of the afternoon we meandered into the foothills across endless fields of red
rock and eventually up into the thin air.
The ascent really picked up just as we entered a thirty mile
construction zone. Construction
zones are great in South America because motorcycles are treated like
royalty. We always ride to the
front of the line, and usually the flaggers let us pass through even with
oncoming traffic in the open lane.
We made pretty short work of it, although the entire time battling a
layer of peat gravel that was recently laid down without any tar
underneath. Peat gravel is the
worst; it scatters like regular gravel, but like sand it never bites solid
ground. It feels like riding on
flat tires. Our TKC-80’s ate it
up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">After a
couple hours we had gained some serious altitude and the weather was starting
to turn. Sprinkles were starting
to come down on every other switchback and the air was getting painfully
cold. Finally, at well over 4,000
meters we crested the pass. The
next horizon came into view and it was what I’ve been waiting for since those
sunless days in Fairbanks. In the
valley below was Huaraz and rising up into a long stretch of jagged glaciated
sawtooth peaks behind it was the Cordillera Blanca Range. The Cordillera is the highest mountain
range in the world outside of the Himalayas and we had a course set for dead center.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Charlie
and headed down into Huaraz which sits at 3,500 meters and eventually found a
hotel with parking after a very tedious struggle. We had only planned one night in Huaraz, but the looming
peaks overhead were swaying our ideas.
That night I went to bed at 8:30pm; I was exhausted from the ride, the
cold, and most of all the altitude.
I woke up at 7:00am Wednesday morning refreshed and excited. Charlie and I both agreed that we were
finally getting into some real adventure so we went to a local gringo breakfast
shop to figure out how we could sink our teeth into it. Inside it became apparent that Huaraz
is Peru’s gateway to the Andes.
Everyone was there to camp, trek, or climb. My kind of people.
Charlie struck up a conversation with a climber named Kevin who had been
living in Seattle for the last several years attending UW. We had a good chat and Kevin
recommended us to a mountain lodge called The Way Inn.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">After
nearly six months of hostels I’m getting really tired of their unending corny
names, but The Way Inn sounded like an ideal place to use as a base to explore
the Andes. We rode up that
afternoon via a dirt road that I swore was leading to nowhere. It was fifteen kilometers up into the
base of the mountain range past countless Peruvian farm fields and stone
huts. Kevin’s advice delivered;
The Way Inn is built on a rolling highland prairie overlooking Huaraz with the
big peaks just an hour’s hike away.
We settled into a nice room with a fireplace and two beds; Charlie was
kind enough to cover the brunt of the cost because he loved the convenience
versus the dorms and he knew the private room was outside my budget. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">After
soaking in the atmosphere for a while, I went straight to the one constant of
this entire trip: bike maintenance.
Tuesday afternoon I noticed my fifth gear was becoming less and less
applicable as we climbed higher. I
could get up to 70mph in fourth gear, switch to fifth, and then inevitably I’d
lose the speed and end up back in fourth gear even on the flat sections. The thin air wasn’t giving enough power
to keep fifth going. Wednesday on
the dirt road I was forced to ride my clutch way too much getting off the line
every time. The weight of the
spare tire wasn’t helping. The
solution was easy and for once I was prepared. I put the bike up on blocks, loosened the rear wheel, and
swapped out my fifteen tooth front sprocket for my spare fourteen tooth. A test drive up and down the driveway
left me satisfied; way more low-end torque. I won’t be able to go 80mph at sea level anymore, but I
don’t plan to make it back down there for quite a while.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This
morning, Thursday, Charlie and I pulled the side boxes off our bikes and got
ready to go exploring. We packed
up a sack lunch, water, some warm clothes, and a tool kit for the excursion. We had no plan nor directions, we just
wanted to go as deep as possible into the mountains. With a smaller front sprocket, dirt tires, and a lightened
load, my bike ripped like a monster the whole day. We cruised on gravel for ten or fifteen kilometers before
coming to a turnoff that peeled off between two peaks. Although the path was considerably
worse than the last stretch of gravel, it was what we were looking for. We set off on the steep incline full of
loose baseball-sized rocks. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">For ten
minutes we climbed in first gear slowly but surely carving forward. A ways up a Peruvian on a Honda dirt
bike flagged us down and said we were entering Huascaran National Park. There was nothing official about him,
except that he was asking for the park entrance fee ($1.50 each). Neither Charlie nor I had much change
so we ended up giving him about $2 and a couple cigarettes. He was happy and so were we. He gave us some information about the
park and said we’d find a lake at the top.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The rest
of the ride could never have been accomplished with the gear payload I usually
carry. It was an obstacle course
for the next twenty kilometers.
Dodge the rocks that you have to, pop over the rest. I went through most of it standing on
my foot pegs leaning slightly over the handlebars. It’s the best way to keep track of the bike’s weight and it
lets your knees take the blows instead of your ass. The trail met up with a bright blue stream and we started
following that up the valley through a series of switchbacks. On either side of us were towering
cliffs and at the other end we could see a massive snow-covered peak. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Finally
at the mouth of the stream the path ended near some camping spots. Charlie and I parked, cabled our bikes
and helmets together, and continued on foot. We scrambled up the valley on goat tracks for another half
hour before finally reaching the top the ridge between us and the lake. We were in the middle of nowhere,
finally. On top of the ridge we
ate lunch and took in the view.
There were two peaks overhead with a ridge between them that had a
glacier advancing into the lake in front of us. The lake was turquoise and full of little icebergs. Every few minutes the ice would
shift and crackle through the valley.
After the hubbub of Lima, this was a welcomed change. We took a lot of pictures and hung out
in the high-altitude sun until the clouds started to get darker in the
distance. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Around
2:00pm we were back at the bikes, exhausted from the lack of oxygen. We took off just as the hail started
falling on us. Although it didn’t
get us wet initially, the hail was striking down like needles even though my
riding gear. We followed the
stream back down and soon dropped down into rain. Slippery rocks, mud, and poor visibility the entire way
back; still no clue why I loved it so much, but it was a blast. We pulled into The Way Inn soaked and
exhilarated. It wouldn’t have
taken much to get my blood pumping after the last 1,000 miles on the
Panamerican, but today was a rush. </span></div>
Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8321336171028132779.post-70347812472991859602011-09-12T20:12:00.001-07:002011-09-12T20:12:58.031-07:00Diplomatic Power<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lima has delivered: new tires, lots of McDonald’s, and some
expert motorcycling advice.<span> </span>While
Charlie and I weren’t originally too keen to spend four nights here, it seemed
to work out pretty well anyway.<span> </span>I’m well
rested and energized to head into the Andes to see what all the fuss is about
Peru.<span> </span>The last 1,000km of dunes set the
bar pretty low, so just about any change in scenery would get the ball rolling
in the right direction towards Cusco.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Charlie and I got up at a leisurely hour Friday morning and
hit the road for three more hours of sand, wind, and corrupt police.<span> </span>We knew that Ty was having trouble finding
our lauded Continental TKC-80’s in Lima, so we made our first destination in
town the KTM dealer that was supposed to stock the tires.<span> </span>We pulled up around 1:00pm letting Charlie’s
Garmin lead the whole way.<span> </span>Lima didn’t
look too promising; the outskirts are several miles of sugar can huts built up
on the sand.<span> </span>Beyond that was a dirty
industrial zone where we found KTM.<span>
</span>Inside the dealership we asked if the warehouse had our tires; they
did.<span> </span>Ecstatic, Charlie and I each bought
a set right there.<span> </span>We considered buying
a spare rear ($170 for two tires is a smoking deal), but decided to wait and
think it over.<span> </span>We left the building
beaming with satisfaction, excited to show off the fresh rubber to Ty at the
hostel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Outside KTM while we were lashing down our new tires a Spaniard
pulled out of the garage on a cherry KTM 990 Adventure R.<span> </span>It’s a cool bike, so we had some questions
for him.<span> </span>Charlie and I picked Nacho’s
brain for a bit about where to buy gear.<span>
</span>Before long he was leading us across town to his favorite shop.<span> </span>Nacho immediately began giving us helpful
advice.<span> </span>He was very aware of what a
foreigner would and wouldn’t know.<span> </span>He
warned us that Lima doesn’t have a bike culture, so we have to protect ourselves
more on the road.<span> </span>Also petty theft seems
to thrive here.<span> </span>I asked Nacho how he
ever arrived in Lima; turns out he’s a diplomat for the European Union.<span> </span>Not a bad guy to find in a city of 9
million.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The more we all hung out the more information Nacho
had.<span> </span>After the gear shop he had a couple
hostel recommendations.<span> </span>It wasn’t Ty and
Jill’s hostel, but it was nearby and we wanted to ride his coattails a little
further.<span> </span>Nacho brought us to a nice
location in the Miraflores district, Lima’s first class downtown.<span> </span>Charlie and I checked in, showered up, and
half an hour later walked down to the corner to a bar that Nacho had in mind.<span> </span>He took us in, ordered us his favorite
drinks, and called Ivan.<span> </span>We sat there
for twenty minutes listening to Nacho’s previous adventures on his bike all
over South America.<span> </span>As a diplomat, he is
deployed to different places around the world for years at a time.<span> </span>In his spare time, he gets to know them via
one of the coolest adventure bikes on the market.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Soon Ivan showed up, who according to Nacho is Peru’s foremost
motorcycle adventure expert.<span> </span>Ivan was
just as cool to hang out with and had an answer to every question.<span> </span>It’s refreshing to talk to two people who actually
understand what it’s like to be on a bike for ten hours a day.<span> </span>They know what sounds good, and what sounds
like a waste of time.<span> </span>Ivan plotted a
route for us on Charlie’s maps that leads from Huaraz to Cusco through the
Andes.<span> </span>He swears it will be some of our
best riding the entire trip.<span> </span>We have to
go back north to get to the start, but it will be well worth it.<span> </span>Ivan’s stories were plenty, but to prove his
status in the motorcycle adventure world he showed me a picture of himself with
Alex’s hero Hubert Kriegel.<span> </span>Ever since
Al concocted this adventure three years ago, he’s been showing me pictures of
Hubert all around the world.<span> </span>What a trip
to see the man himself with his classic red glasses standing next to my friend
Ivan at the southern tip of South America.<span>
</span>The further I go, the smaller the world. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Saturday morning Charlie and I were up early and off to Ty
and Jill’s hostel.<span> </span>We were also hoping
that Andy and Cass had shown up.<span> </span>We
walked into Ty’s room to find him smiling at us with five brand new TKC-80’s in
the corner.<span> </span>He had bought us each a pair
at KTM just minutes after we took off with Nacho.<span> </span>What looked like a nightmare developing
actually turned into a great success; within six hours we had a home for each
new tire.<span> </span>We’re leaving a pair for Alex
to pick up and Charlie and I each will carry a spare rear for 6,000 miles down
the road.<span> </span>I figure that finding them was
hard enough once and I seem to have enough worries on this trip as it is.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My engine, for example.<span>
</span>It’s running great right now but Saturday I noticed a small buildup of
tar around one of the important gaskets on the engine head.<span> </span>I don’t have a spare, and it won’t be easy to
find.<span> </span>I’ve shown it to the other boys
and everyone assured me that it’s not the end of the world.<span> </span>If I had a spare, maybe I’d change it; since I
don’t, I’ll just keep an eye on it.<span> </span>It’s
not dripping and there’s no pressure behind it anyway, so no sirens.<span> </span>In truth, it’s just a single cylinder engine
with 19,000 miles on it.<span> </span>It’s bombproof,
but it’ll still show some wear.<span> </span>The bike
just isn’t as pretty as it was when I left and I’m starting to accept that as
fact.<span> </span>It won’t get any prettier over the
next 10,000 miles, that’s for sure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, Monday, Charlie’s and my bike went to professional
shop to have the tires replaced.<span> </span>I had
my fourth oil change as well.<span> </span>It’s not
cheap work, but I trusted the mechanic (also named Tato) that Ivan recommended
and every so often it’s nice to have a pro work on the bike and tell you it’s
in great shape.<span> </span>It’s going to have to be
for the next stretch.<span> </span>Charlie and I intend
to get pretty far into the wild while the other four take the Panamerican to
Cusco.<span> </span>Tonight might be the last with Andy
and Cass for a while, at least until I move to Perth, Australia (one of the
ideas I’ve been kicking around [don’t worry, I’ll come home first]).<span> </span>It will be sad to see them go, but I’m used
to it after over five months of goodbyes.<span>
</span>I have no doubt we’ll be seeing Ty and Jill again soon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m constantly eyeing my bank account on this trip, fretting
over money spent and future expenditures.<span>
</span>Whenever I get real bent out of shape I have to pull up a world map and
convince myself just how far I’ve come.<span>
</span>We’re well into South America now yet it seems like last week that Alex
and I were pissing away in Barranquilla.<span>
</span>While the trip still has months to go, it’s time to come up with a more concrete
plan for the ending.<span> </span>We’ve always talked
about getting to Argentina as the goal.<span>
</span>That’s just over a month away.<span> </span>There
will be plenty to accomplish there, but at some point I need to start focusing
on how to get home.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s not a backpacking trip where you book a flight online
and hop in a cab to the airport.<span> </span>I’ve
got to find a freighter that will ship the bike to the states for a reasonable
price.<span> </span>Or a buyer that will take it from
me.<span> </span>A freighter might only send it to
certain places; I’d have to coordinate a flight ride it home from the port.<span> </span>And the cheapest option may involve heading
into Brazil, which I never planned to do.<span>
</span>Or I can wait around down here and work.<span>
</span>Maybe a ski season in the Andes?<span>
</span>That would make up for my hernia-botched Baker experiment.<span> </span>There are a lot of options, that’s why I’m
already working on them.<span> </span>For the last
two years my only focus was getting on the road, so it’s a thrill to have a new
project and new dreams to ponder.<span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m anxious to get to Buenos Aires.<span> </span>Not because I’m sick of this, but because I want
to have it under my belt.<span> </span>Every day we
get closer, the goal becomes more feasible.<span>
</span>I don’t want to miss anything in between, but there are times recently
that I’ve wanted to just ride day and night all the way to BA to validate all
the hard work, obnoxious claims, and machismo surrounding this trip.<span> </span>That day will come, and with it a whole new
set of goals.<span> </span>Waiting is the hard part,
even on the trip of a lifetime.<o:p></o:p></div>
Tom Reuterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10133155582444275534noreply@blogger.com2