South At Sixty

Back in Salvador... The Saga Continues - 7/19

2009-07-19T19:48:00.001-05:00

I returned to Salvador Thursday morning from Morro Sao Paulo. We were supposed to take the 9 am catamaran (2 hours), but the seas were too rough so we had to take a combination of boats and busses that took about 3 ½ hours. Actually, not too bad and I’m sure a lot more comfortable than a boat trip would have been in the heavy winds.

I immediately went to the mechanic´s to see what was going on. I had gotten some reports, but it didn’t sound like things were progressing as they should. It turned out that I have a broken piston. This explains the problems, but after calling around Nen has not been able to locate a piston for my bike in Brazil.

So I spent Thursday afternoon on the internet and Skype (what DID we do before this) and found a supplier in San Diego who could get a piston off to me by Fedex the next day. With luck, I would have it by next Tuesday. All I had to do was get him payment by PayPal.

I HATE PAYPAL. Despite having three good credit cards, something in their system wouldn’t take my payment. I spent three hours on Friday morning trying to get this to go through. When I called PayPal there only comment was “we don’t know… it’s something in our system that rejects your payment. We can’t do a thing about it”. May PayPal and everyone who works for them rot in hell and may all their children grow up to be gerbils (or at the very least, may they be infested with gerbils). So there.!

Fotrunately, Rod, the supplier (Bless you Multi Surface Motorcycling), said he would get me the part anyway so I wouldn’t be stuck. My sister Tina put a check in the mail to him that day. Turns out Fedex wouldn’t take the package anyway since they didn’t have my passport number (go figure) and it was sent USPS. In theory, I should have the piston this week.

Keep all of your appendages crossed…. I’ll let you know.

A Tale of Two Cities.. Salvador and Morro Sao Paulo - 7/12-15

2009-07-15T19:28:00.002-05:00

Yes, dear readers, I'm still in Salvador. It's not a bad city, but I've had ENOUGH of it. More importantly, if I don't get out of here soon I won't get back to Panama in time to get to Korea, so the pressure is on... really on and I'm feeling it big time. I don't know what "Plan B" is.

To bring you up to date:

When last we left poor Pinguino it was Friday afternoon, July 10, and he was at Nen's (the mechanic) shop. Nen was to dismantle the motor on Monday to figure out what was wrong and so we could order parts. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men (and penguins).

Since I couldn't do much at the time I decided to take a few days and go to Morro Sao Paulo for some fun and sun. This is an island about two hours by boat from Salvador, and supposed to be a very nice tourist resort area.

On Sunday I caught the boat for the island. The "luxury yacht" reminded me in many ways of the old fishing boats that we used to take scuba diving in Malaysia. Hard benches, and if you went out back for some fresh air the shape of the stern just sucked the diesel fumes right into your lungs. But I met a young Brazilian couple on the boat who spoke a little English and we had a decent time... and all stayed inside, which was probably better given the rain.

We arrived at the island at about 2:00. The island does look quite idyllic as you approach. It's a bit of a throwback to a gentler time, since there are no motor vehicles on the island (Except for a tractor that does some maintenance).

There are burros and horses everywhere. The "taxis" are only to carry luggage, and consist of boys with wheelbarrows. Even the construction materials are unloaded by hand off the boats and carried by horse or burro.

The hotel itself, Pousada Farol de Morro Sao Paulo, was very nice. I got a room with a nice view of the ocean and a small terrace.

I met an interesting, and varied, group to hang out with for a few days. Shelly and Kimberley are teachers from the DC area. Shelly had a local boyfriend, Diego, and Kim was waiting for a friend to arrive. Nick, an Aussie, showed up and then Joy, a local, joined us along with Daniella, one of the owners of the pousada . It was a group that liked to party, although I (Gramps) wasn't up for going out to the disco at two am and staying until dawn. I left that part up to them.

Joy, the guy on the far right, decided I should adopt him as my grandson since we looked so much alike!

On Wednesday we decided to go to the "mud baths", a Morro Sao Paulo ritual. This first entailed a hike through the jungle, during which the girls decided to enjoy a local refreshment, frozen coconut milk in a small plastic bag. However, as it melted it began to resemble a dripping condom and the comments - and images - grew progressively more "R" rated. The final images can't be displayed here on a family oriented blog.

While the hike was arduous, Daniella provided us with scenery to encourage forward progress. This is another Brazilian tradition!

Once we arrived at the clay cliffs, Diego and Joy prepared the magical mud treatment for us.

We then proceeded to slather each other from head to toe.. . to exfoliate, smooth, and just plain have a good time.

Joy looked like he had stepped out of a National Geographic magazine... on the warpath

After that, we dried until we caked up, walked further to a nice beach, and rinsed. Then we proceeded to drink far too many beers, have a good lunch, and finally return to the hotel after dark. It was certainly one of the better days.

Down for the Count (but not out) - July 9 - 11

2009-07-11T08:52:00.001-05:00

Thursday 7/9 - Busted Flat in Baton Rouge

Somehow Janis Joplin's voice just keeps running through my mind. OK, I'm not in Baton Rouge,. And I'm not busted flat... at least not in the monetary sense (although with the prices here in Brazil that's not out of the question).

What I am is back in Salvador with a sick Pinguino. The bike, she's not feeling so good. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, a sad tale but true:

I left Salvador this morning amid a nice sunny day. Getting out of Salvador was problematic, as this is about the worst driving city I've ever seen. As described elsewhere, no streets go where they should, and it's impossible to turn around to go the other direction. So after about an hour of meandering, asking questions of people with wildly different ideas as to where the road north was, and screaming obscenities into my helmet I finally found myself on the Litoral Norte... the coastal road to the north.

I figured it would take me three days to get to Fortaleza, taking it easy and stopping at a couple of beach towns on the way. All seemed to be progressing satisfactorily, and aside from a slight vibration at 5000 rpm the bike seemed to be running fine. There had been a few drops of oil on the floor this morning, but I thought that was just some residual in the system.

Then as I reached Praia de Porto and accelerated to pass a truck I noticed a huge plume of white smoke emitting from El Pinguino's rear end. I had discovered in Antarctica that penguin farts are nothing to be sneezed at (now there's an image), and the smoke emanating from my trusty steed did nothing to warm the cockles of my heart, wherever they might be. I pulled over and saw even more oil dripping from the overflow tube. This was definitely NOT a good sign.

So having a choice of returning 60 km to Salvador or continuing 1500 km north to Fortaleza, I decided that hanging a U was probably the wiser choice. So back it was, to get lost and try to find Nen's shop again. Having had faith that I would not be returning, I unwisely hadn't put the location of the shop into my GPS. After repeating my inability to navigate Salvador I finally stopped to ask a taxi driver the location of the shop, showing him Nen's card. As luck would have it, he was also a biker. He told me to wait a minute while he got his motorcycle and then led me right to the shop. Turns out he is also a customer of Nen's.

I've got to say, for all the trouble I've been having the Brazilian people have been absolutely wonderful. I am inviting the entire country to come spend Christmas with us in Panama! 200 million people in our guest room might be a bit cramped, but they deserve it. Maybe we'll put the overflow up in Cerro Azul.

After looking at the problem, Nen thinks that I might have a broken piston ring. This would explain the high pressure leaking into the bottom end of the motor and could have caused the initial problem of the broken gasket. Diagnosing and fixing this will involve completely opening up the motor... not a minor job. Unfortunately, because he had spent so much time on my bike over the last few days his other work has piled up and he can't even look at my bike until Monday. Then, if any parts are needed that can't be gotten locally we might have to get them from Sao Paulo.

So here I am... "Busted Flat in Baton Rouge", or at least stuck for a week in Salvador. I've run into three other bikers (an Australian couple and a Swiss woman) who are also awaiting parts, so I have some people to commiserate (and drink) with. I'll probably take a boat to Morrow Sao Paulo for a few days of beach relaxation, but otherwise here I am.

In "Jupiter's Travels", his telling of his round-the-world motorcycle trip in the seventies, Simon says something along the lines of "don't think of the obstacles as getting in the way of the journey... they are the journey". It's something that I've reminded myself of many times during this trip, and keeping that philosophy in mind has really helped. Guess I'll just enjoy the journey in Salvador for a while.

Stay tuned to this channel for more breaking news as it happens.

2009-07-08T11:00:00.007-05:00

Monday 7/6 to Wednesday 7/8 - El Pinguino sees the `Vet `

El Pinguino (my trusty Kawasaki) was sorely in need of medical (mechanical) care, and Alberto came to the rescue. He came and picked me up on his trusty Yamaha and took me to see Ven, the moto mechanic. Ven arranged for a pickup taxi to take me back to my hotel and get my motorcycle. So once again, a truck trip back to the mechanic. Fortunately this one only cost me twenty bucks.

Ven immediately started pulling the bike apart and confirmed what the Suzuki dealer in Sao Mateus had diagnosed? yes indeed a gasket had blown. The difference was that Ven actually knew what to do about it. For the next three days he worked on the bike, getting a new gasket made, and other maintenance like replacing the chain and sprockets. These guys get very clever here when necessity is the mother of invention. While I had a semi-used front sprocket in my parts kit, a rear sprocket for my bike was not available in Salvador. So we bought a sprocket with the right number of teeth and took it to a machine shop to have the right size center hole machined and the correct bolt holes drilled. Quite clever.

Wednesday morning I decided I had to actually see some of Salvador, so I arranged a tour of the historical area. Salvador was the first capital of Brazil, before Rio and then Brazilia. My guide, Armando, spoke Spanish and was very informative. In fact, just a little TOO informative. I finally had to tell him that while I found the history interesting I was getting just a little bit too much information. If I asked him about the government in the colonial times he would proceed to tell me where the term government came from, why there were colonies, and the color of the third Vicount de Fulano?s second daughter?s petticoats. Anyway, you get the idea.

There are, like in most colonial towns, some very impressive churches. This is how the Church used its money instead of helping the local populace. Also probably why the impressive churches have survived while the local populace died off. But interesting from a tourism perspective

The local population in Salvador is heavily Afro-Brazilian and there are a lot of reminders of the slavery of the past. The traditional dress of the Baianos (people from the state of Bahia) iis heavily influenced by the Carribean roots. Many of the women are simply heavily influenced.

That afternoon it was back to the mechanic`s. The bike was put back together and after a final wash to get the rest of the oil and grunge off, on Wednesday night I was out of the mechanic shop.

I went with Alberto to meet up with the group that gathers by the Farol de Barra (lighthouse). The lighthouse itself is quite impressive at night.

After a half hour of normal BS with the guys, we were off for a few beers. Other than a few drops of oil dripping from the air box, the bike seems to be running fine.

Then it was back to the hotel with my trusty steed, and tomorrow I am off to Fortaleza.

Sao Mateus, and the Shit Hits the Fan - July 3 - 4

2009-07-04T19:33:00.001-05:00

Friday 7/3 - On the Road to Salvador

Today was a LONG drive. The road was good, but it is a major truck route and there are not many passing lanes. It was one of those days when you are just trying to put as many miles under your [very sore and tired] butt as you can. After about 8 hours on the road I arrived at Sao Mateus. I found a great hotel, with garage, cable tv, and wifi in the room (first time). I even thought I might stay an extra day.

Just as I was getting into the shower at about 4:30 the bellboy knocked on my door to tell me that my bike was leaking oil in the garage. Yep, a nice black puddle right there on the floor. So off I go driving around town to find a mechanic to take a look. First I tried the Honda dealer, who was very nice but said his mechanics don't know anything but Hondas. However, he led me in his car to the Suzuki dealer. This place was also very nice, and told me they would fix it in the morning, as well as putting on a new rear tire that I needed.

So off I went to a nice dinner, a couple of beers, and a cigar at an outdoor restaurant. Things were looking OK.

Saturday 7/4 - The PooPoo Hits the Ventilator

I slept late, still feeling a little queasy from my earlier stomach problems, and thought that I might stay in Sao Mateu for the day. Maybe sit around the pool or go to the beach. At 10:30 I went to the Suzuki dealer to get the bike.

Well, they had changed the tire, but said they couldn't fix the oil leak. It looked like a blown gasket and they didn't have the "special tool" to get the water pump off to get to it. Feelings of "oh, crap" were starting to pop up in my head. Kawasaki doesn't generally require any special tools (which is one reason why I chose this bike... it's simple to fix), so maybe they didn't know what they were talking about. I checked the manual that I carry, and indeed the water pump can be taken apart with regular tools. So somebody didn't know quite whereof they friggin` spoke. Then they told me that even if they could get the motor apart, they didn't have the gasket and would have to get it from Kawasaki in Sao Paulo. I asked about using liquid gasket sealer and they had never heard of it. And anyway, it was noon on Saturday and they were closing (as was everyone else). So as far as a fast fix in Sao Mateus I was in the crapper.

They suggested that I ride to Salvador, 1000 km away. This was my next destination anyway, and I figured that with more than 2 million people I could probably find a mechanic who knew something. The Suzuki mechanic said the problem didn't look that bad (the great mechanic that he was), and so long as I carried extra oil to keep replenishing the motor I should be OK. Then I could get it fixed in Salvador on Monday when things were open. So... back to the hotel, pack, and get out of town.

This is the ShitHitsTheFan part: I got a few miles out of Sao Mateu and the motor is smoking, and running rough. Oil is spewing all over. Then a there is big pop and it really sounds like shit. I am in what might be called Deep DooDoo.

Fortunately I am just about to a federal police roadblock, so I stop there.

I show my badge to Geraldo Marciano, the cop on duty, and ask for suggestions. Who knew that my eight years as a reserve cop would come in so handy 20 years later in South America!

Geraldo is an incredibly nice guy and has been helping me all afternoon. First we try to get a truck going to Salvador that can take me, but there is very little traffic on Saturday and we have no luck. Then he calls someone he knows with a pickup truck who offers to take me for US$700. This is a LOT of money, but it is1000 kilometers each way. Eventually I agree (not having a lot of choice) and we try to get the bike into his truck. Unfortunately (actually, it turns out to be fortunately), the truck is too short and El Pinguino is too big. Another idea shot to hell.

Gerarlo keeps calling around and finally finds someone who is hauling a pickup truck to Salvador and will take my bike for US$400. I'm all for it, but he is picking up the car in another city and will be a few hours.

So here I am. It's 6:40 pm on Saturday night and I'm sitting in the police post (as I have been since 2:00) hoping that this guy with the truck will show. Then we have at least a 12 hour ride to Salvador on Sunday. With any luck, I'll find someone who can fix the bike and it will run again. I'll keep you posted.

Oh yeah... this is why they call it an adventure. If you want secure go to Disneyland!

Continuation...

After a couple of hours I'm picked up by a flatbed truck, who takes me about an hour north to another town. There we find the pickup that has to go to Salvador. Unfortunately, there's not enough room on the flatbed for the bike, so up it goes into the bed of the pikup truck, on the back of the flatbed. I figure I might as well ride the bike to Salvador on the truck, just to keep in practice!

OK, so I didn't ride. What I did do was spend 23 hours in a tow truck getting to Salvador. Aside from a two hour stop at 6 am so that the driver could sleep and a few fuel and food stops we drove straight through. This actually worked better, since there was less traffic in the middle of the night. During the day the scenery in this part of Brazil was beautiful... lush and green.

Unfortunately, most of the time we were looking at this

Finally we came to a sign indicating a turnoff to Salvador. As we got further along I had to keep wondering how a city of more than two million people could have as a main access a two-lane rural road. The answer became clear when we got to the ferry terminal. This was the alternate (and faster) road. Unfortunately, Winsdan (the driver) didn't know this and was not prepared to pay the ferry charge of $42. Given what I was already paying for this trip I wasn't about to chip in anything else. And to go back the other way would have been an additional four hours. Either this kid was going to decide to take the ferry or I was going to kill him!

Winsdan spent just enough time trying to call his boss and pondering the situation that we missed the ferry. He finally decided that we would take the next ferry in an hour, which we did. His boss called him while we were on the ferry and said that Winsdan had screwed up and would have to pay for the ferry. Whether that was true or not, I wasn't about to pony up any more money. Sorry kid... no points for ignorance!

We finally -- after 23 hours on the road -- arrived in Salvador. At the ferry terminal I had called a hotel listed in the Lonely Planet guide (Pousada Hilmar) and confirmed that they had a room and a place for my leaking (I didn't tell them that part) bike, so I was set on that front.

Now the Horizons site kicked in to save my butt again. Artur, in Rio, had contacted some friends of friends in Salvador and Alberto would come pick me up in the morning and take me to a good mechanic. A shower, a couple of beers, and I was off to bed.

Things have to get better tomorrow.

Rio Days 2-3: From Harlistas to Favelas - July 1 - 2

2009-07-02T19:29:00.001-05:00

Wednesday 7/1 - Harlistas Everywhere

One of the great resources for crazy-ass motorcycle riders is a web site called Horizons Unlimited. Aside from sharing information, a lot of us meet other bike travelers on this site. Information I've gotten here has saved my butt a number of times, and I've met some very cool (and a few not-so-cool) people through HU. That's how I had come in contact with Artur, a 56 year old retired Brazilian air force colonel living in Rio. Artur is a Harlista... a pseudo-Spanish word for those of us who are endowed with Harley Davidson`s. I`m riding my Kawasaki at the moment, but that doesn`t kick me out of the club.

On Wednesday Artur invited me to go for a ride and lunch. We were a bit delayed because his Harley (no comments... I have one too!) had a dead battery that we had to deal with. But eventually we got to a beautiful beach where his friend Walter joined us for nice lunch and a ride back through the crappy Rio rush-hour traffic.

Although they suggested I meet another group of their friends at a bar that night, I was still fighting the feijoada-ala-Montezuma's Revenge, so I called it an early night.

Thursday, 7/2 - To The Slums

Although I couldn't spend nearly the amount of time I would have liked in Rio, there was one other area that I wanted to see. This was the famous "favelas" of Rio. These are the slums, or shantytowns that have grown up on the hillsides around the city. One of them was made famous in the book and movie "City of God".

Some of the favelas are huge. We visited Rocinha, with an estimated population of 200,000.

Fortunately - because it would not be safe to just wander around here - there are a few organized tours. We had 11 people on ours, all from various hostels.

The first challenge after arriving in the van was to get to the top of the hill. Somehow it doesn't make sense to walk up and ride down. So one gets to the top is by "taxi", a motorcycle where the passenger rides on the back. Now realize, I've now ridden 30 thousand miles on a bike through South America, but this was the scariest part so far. I haven't had this much of a thrill since the moto-taxis in Cambodia, but those were on fairly level ground, not 89 degree grades!. At least the girls could grab the driver around the waste... the guy were told this is a no-no!

Arriving at the top we were told not to take any pictures in this part of the favela because there are too many guys with walkie-talkies and machine guns who are drug dealers and they are not kindly disposed to pictures. I can't imagine why! Actually, we didn't see anyone with either a machine gun or a walkie-talkie, but maybe it was some kind of drug-dealer holiday that we weren't aware of.

We went wandering off through the small streets that comprise the favela (staying close with our guide), until we were finally told that we had left "Drugolandia" and were allowed to take photos.

One interesting, but not surprising, phenomenon in the favela (as I've found in many poor neighborhoods) is the bootlegging of electricity and other services. Having just wired my new bathroom in Cerro Azul for electricity, I have some appreciation for a neat wiring job. It was interesting to see the many, many connections that people had made to the electrical, phone, and tv cables, and it would be interesting to know what percentage of services are actually paid for. Talk about your "octopus" connection!

Surprisingly, the people did not seem hostile towards a group of gringos doing a "slum tour". Not that anyone invited us in for tea, but neither did they wave machetes or small arms at us. People were generally polite, and there wasn't an undue amount of begging.

Rodrigo, our guide, has been doing this tour for years and has tried to keep the children from asking for too much. Also, he made sure to take us to several local businesses so that we could support the favela economy.

At one point we stopped at a day care center run by a charity. Cute kids, whose parents either have jobs or are trying to find work.

Out of Rio -

After the tour it was time to pack up the bike and head out of Rio. I left at 1:30, and spent the night in Campos de Goytacazes. Nothing special, but a place to sleep.

It`s RIO ! The Highlights - June 30

2009-06-30T19:25:00.004-05:00

Tuesday 6/30 - A tour of Rio`s top spots

Today I did the "Top Tour" of Rio with a couple of the "kids" from the hostel. It turned out to be a great way to see the top sights, and we had a great group.

Of course, I had to take the obligatory picture with a bevy (how many IS a bevy, anyway?) of beautiful women. In this case, it was Natalie (French) and Emily (French Canadian). Why do they always seem to look at me like a grandfather figure? Oh well, given no choice I can live with that.

Just so you won't think I'm JUST a dirty old man (not that I'm denying it), I also had Ronin (Irish) and Ignace (Belgian) for company. A truly international tour.

First it was up to the top of the hill to see the Christo Redemtor (Christ the Redeemer). This is an impressive statue, and the view is spectacular (you'll hear that phrase a lot in Rio).

Then we drove through Santa Teresa to Lapa. Lapa is at night a very hip area, but during the day it is just very interesting.

I was particularly impressed by the quality of some of the graffiti artwork. These artists have some real talent, and have documented some of the more famous (and infamous) residents of the neighborhood.

We also stumbled across a charcoal processing factory in a small shop. Even our guide didn't know that it was there. Imagine working in this dark, hot, dirty place for a living.

There is also a set of famous steps in Lapa. Evidently this was an ugly, dangerous neighborhood until a local artist decided that he wanted to improve it. He built a series of planters and steps up the hill, and then began putting in tiles.

Visitors began to contribute tiles from all over the world, and the "sculpture" grew. Two tiles of particular significance to me were from Panama and the Pacific Northwest Indians.

I also could particularly identify with one tile that I call "Words to Live By".

Translation: He who drinks gets drunk. He who gets drunk sleeps. He who sleeps cannot sin. He who doesn't sin will go to heaven. So... to get to heaven, drink!

I`m not sure that this is the official Church position, but given the lack of inventory control in the local sacristy I wouldn`t be surprised.

Then it was to a traditional Portuguese restaurant for lunch. Several of us had feijoada, a traditional Brazilian. Very heavy, and very good.

I later found out that feijoada is a Brazilian word that means `all the left over crap that we threw in with some old beans and rice`, but that didn`t change the tast.

Unfortunately, after that we were to visit the Pao de Azucar (Sugar Loaf) Mountain. I say unfortunately because we were to hike up the first half... a seriously steep and difficult hike. A full stomach was definitely not an asset on this portion of the tour. Rodrigo, our guide, is a botanist and gave us full description of all the plants and animals that could inflict permanent harm on us if we should touch, approach, or just think about them.

We then took the cable car to the top. Remember, yours truly has a "wee bit" of a problem with heights, but fortunately the anticipation was the worst part. The cable car itself was fine, although I made Natalie (the French blonde) hold my hand the whole time so that I wouldn't cry. Hey... it worked! I hardly cried at all :)

We arrived at the top just at sunset, and it was (here we go again) SPECTACULAR. It really is the best word to describe Rio.

As it got darker, the lights of Rio came on below us, and I won't even tell you the word to describe the view.

Arriving back at the hostel at about 8, I discovered that the feijoada didn't like me as much as I had liked it. So I split the night between my lower bunk and the porcelain throne, hoping for better in the morning. Oh well, that's the price of adventure!

The Road to Rio - June 28 - 29

2009-06-29T19:23:00.003-05:00

Sunday 6/28 - The road to Rio

This is it... I'm officially in the same league with Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, and Dorothy Lamour!

That is: I'm on the Road to Rio. (for you young`uns out there this might not make sense. Go study history!)

OK, maybe I can't sing, dance, or act, but I never saw any of them on a motorcycle either.

It was more rain and drizzle today. I'm getting sick of this weather! I tried to get all the way to Rio today, but it had been recommended that I take the scenic route. It would have been more scenic had I been able to see it through the weather, but at least there were less trucks. However, there were many more beach towns, and each one seems to try to outdo the others in the number of speed bumps it can put down. So it was very slow going.

After checking the Lonely Planet (an occasionally good resource, and sometimes even accurate... except for the prices which stem from the early 50s) I decided to stop in Parati for the night. This was described as an old colonial town with quaint cobblestone streets.

For the most part that is accurate. The buildings in the central district have been restored, and no motor vehicles are allowed. It is pretty much a tourist town, with tourist prices. I found a nice "pousada" ($30) just outside the historic center and went exploring.

Every once in a while you hit Kismet. In this case, it was a rehearsal for a street play that was to be put on the following week during an important literary festival. There were singers, dancers, musicians, and anyone else who wanted to join in. The play was about a famous Brazilian writer, Euclides, and his experiences during the war for Bahia earlier in the 20th century.

It was a real happening, and a lot of fun. I'm sorry that I won't be here for the actual performance.

Monday 6/29 - Into Rio de Janeiro

I left Parati with 29,875 miles showing on the odometer and continued up the coast. The weather was (Wait... you won't believe this) BEAUTIFUL. Sunny, warm, white puffy clouds. The kind of day that was made for riding. Aside from the overabundance of speed bumps, the drive was along a beautiful coastline.

Then I hit Rio de Janeiro, and the normal big city traffic. I finally found a hostel in Ipanema, a block from the beach. The hostel itself was nice, with a good common area, bar, and swimming pool. However, the prices here are unbelievable! US$23 for a bed in a nine bed dorm!

A double room (there are no singles) was $70... a definite budget killer. And this was for a plain room with no bathroom. I decided I could sleep with eight of my closest friends for a few nights, but was not too thrilled. Actually, everything was very high priced in Rio. It's a beautiful city, but next time I want to be on someone else's expense account.

Iguape and Jureia - June 26 - 27

2009-06-27T19:06:00.002-05:00

Friday 6/26 - A day in Iguape

It has been raining all day, non-stop. Aside from taking my laundry to be washed (you can't imagine the excitement little things can cause), I spent most of the day at Christina's downloading pictures and catching up on correspondence. That night I took Christina out for a pizza. Ah, the joy of the little things!

Sat 6/27 - Iguape, Jureia, and a baby birthday party

It's overcast and drizzling... AGAIN. But I refused to spend a day in the house and decided to take a little ride to Jureia, which is supposed to be a little fishing village with miles of sandy beaches.

It's about a 20 km ride to Jureia, through mostly rural land and a few small villages. Then a short ferry ride to the village itself. The village is built along the bank of an inlet... brackish water and supposedly good fishing

I started to ride along the beaches, but ran into a lot of wet, deep sand. After my experiences in Chile, I now avoid sand whenever possible.

However, I happened to run into two guys who had been on the ferry with me at a bar/restaurant along the river. Discretion being the better part of valor, and temptation being the only thing that I am physically unable to resist, I just HAD to join them for a couple of beers. The setting was nice, the company was friendly, and the grilled robalo was just the thing to hit the spot.

There was also some interesting bird life. I happened to like this kingfisher perched next to the restaurant

That night Christina was having a birthday party... for her one-year-old niece. You can only imagine my excitement at the thought of dozens of rug rats nipping at my ankles. But it was interesting, as a cultural event. I have never seen such decorations for a one-year-old birthday. No wonder Disney stays in business.

Tomorrow I'll take off for Rio de Janeiro. Hasta la Samba!

Iguasu (Brazil) to Iguape - June 22 to 26

2009-06-26T07:55:00.003-05:00

Monday, 3/22

I spent the morning trying to get the bike running right. I'm not sure if it was just crappy gas fouling up the carburetor, but I took off the tank and cleaned it, took out the carb and cleaned it as best as I could, replaced a throttle cable that was about to break, put it all together, and prayed. Miracle... the damned thing started! So I was off to Brasil.

It's only a few miles from the Argentina side of the falls to the Brazil side, but when you throw in immigration and customs for the bike it's still a 2 hour process. The day was compensating for yesterday's sun by being miserable and raining. I found a dingy hotel to camp in for the night, didn't want to watch one of the two Portuguese stations on the TV, so had a few glasses of wine and watched a movie on my computer. I love this little Acer netbook that I bought just before the trip3

Tuesday 3/23

I spent the morning at the Itaipu dam. This is on the border between Brazil and Paraguay and is a joint project between the two countries. It is the largest hydroelectric project in the world. It even puts out more juice than the Three Gorges dam in China will. The total output is a maximum of 14 megawatts per hour, which provides 20% of the electricity for Brazil and more than 90% of the electricity for Paraguay.

To put that in identifiable terms, that is the equivalent of 187 gazillion, 712 trillion, and sixteen double A batteries... or enough electricity to run 242 quintillion personal vibrators for 151 light years.

Eat your heart out, EverReady Bunny!

There are 20 separate generators in the plant. The actual production area stretches more than a kilometer, and the workers travel around inside the dam on bicycles or electric carts. As you can see, the shafts of each generator are huge.

One advantage of going on the "special tour" (which included all the areas inside the dam and power generating station instead of just the overlooks) was that we were actually on both sides of the river... Brazil and Paraguay. I had decided not to go to Paraguay since the only reason I wanted to go was that it's the only major South American country that I haven't visited (not counting those little French things in the upper right corner). But Paraguay doesn't like the US's visa requirements, so they charge us a hefty $130 visa fee (I can't blame them... it's the same as we charge them). It wasn't worth it to me to pay, but this got me around it. One more country down, but not in my passport!

Here I am straddling the border between Brazil and Paraguay.

In the afternoon I visited the Brazil side of Iguasu Falls. It is great view, but not as interesting as the Argentina side where you get up close and personal. Also, there are not nearly as many hiking trails. But still, the falls are spectacular.

Wednesday, 3/24

I'm off again, and having more bike problems. It kept dying on me every time I slowed down or stopped. Where the hell is that great mechanic that was supposed to come along with me? After trying to get it started again at a police check point (for half an hour), one of the many bystanders -- everyone has an opinion -- told me that there was a good mechanic in Cascavel, about 50km down the road. I got the bike started and kept hoping I would make it that far. It did, and fortunately the problem showed itself when the mechanic looked at it (it usually acts fine when a mechanic is looking, just like at the doctor's office). He immediately told me that it wasn't a carb problem, but was electrical. Turns out it was a short in the connector to the spark plug, and the wet weather made it worse. A $17 repair and I was on my way.

I raced the sun to get somewhere before dark, fortunately had no more bike problems, and arrive in Guarapuave just as night fell. Another day down!

Thursday, 3/25

A LONG travel day. Actually, I did longer days during the first part of the trip, but it's now winter and this has cut my potential travel time down by about 4 hours a day. Before I could travel from about 6:30 am until almost 9 pm. Now it's from 8 am to 5:30 pm. At least this will get better as I get further north.

Today's trip was an "all day in the saddle and my sore but is even sorer" type of day. I left Guarapuava at 9:30 and hit rain and fog all morning. This is also a very heavy truck route, so there was no fun there! They have double trailer trucks in Brazil, which seem to stretch for about 300 feet. Passing has to be very carefully planned.

After only two stops for gas, at 4:30 I finally got onto a secondary road and FINALLY felt like I was enjoying my riding. Although I was still racing the sun, it was a nice rural road... narrow and curvy just the way I like it. I was heading towards Iguape, on the coast of Brazil about 200 km south of Sao Paulo, and arrived (again) just as I was losing the light.

Iguape is an old colonial town that was founded by the Spanish, then given to the Portuguese by some pope in the 16th century. It sounded interesting and I was ready for some small town culture.

I pulled into the main square and found the tourist office. Ah... information! Well not quite.

First, nobody at the tourist office spoke English or Spanish. Why on earth would you expect that at a tourist office? Second, they thought that my inquiry about an economical hotel was quite amusing.. they had no idea! Finally someone suggested "the red building across the plaza" which was supposed to be a commercial hotel. Well, it used to be but it now a private house. As I was told as I was wandering around in someone's living room! But the people were very friendly and eventually Elizabeth (the owner) told me about a friend of hers who had some apartments for rent.

So here I am in Iguape, ensconced in a cute little bungalow (with an outdoor kitchen) for about 3 days for the princely sum of $15 a night. The owner, Cristina, also includes breakfast at her house a block away in the morning. A nice place to camp for a few days. It's raining, but hopefully the weather will improve and I'll get to explore some of the area. If not, I'll catch up on the blog!

Iguasu Falls - Making Niagara Look Like a Leaky Faucet ! - June 22

2009-06-22T13:37:00.001-05:00

Sunday 6/21 – Puerto Iguasu, Argentina

The weather today was spectacular: Sunny and 70 degrees. A good day for Iguasu falls. It's about a 15 km ride from Puerto Iguasu to the national park, and a $15 admission fee for foreigners, but worth it. I met a young Finnish woman while at the information booth, which gave me someone to hike with.

The falls themselves are spectacular. They are right on the border between Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil. While I hear that you get a better overall view from the Brazil side, on the Argentina side you get right up close and personal with the falls. Unlike Niagara falls, there is not a whole city of tacky shops surrounding the falls, just a national park and very nice hiking trails.

One of the most spectacular areas is called Garganta del Diablo, or Devil's throat. It has been calculated that to create this much water force artificially you would have to flush all the toilets in China, Russia, and Kazakstan twenty-seven times per minute. That, of course isn't counting the squat toilets, which don't use as much water.

During the morning the wasp that had flown up my sleeve yesterday decided that he wasn't done with me yet (his death not withstanding). As the morning progressed my arm was turning increasingly red, hot, and swollen. By noon I looked like Popeye, at least on the right side. So, discretion being the better part of health, I decided that a visit to the local emergency room was in order. Fortunately it was right across the street from my hotel.

After a five minute wait the doctor saw me and prescribed an anti-inflamatory injection. The nurse prepared a needle that had to be 8 inches long, attached to a syringe with about 2 liters of medicine in it, and told me to drop my pants and bend over. At this point I decided that maybe my arm really wasn't that bad and I didn't need any damn medicine! Oh well, I figured better to bare my cheeks and take it. By the next morning the arm was considerably better, although my butt was still in a world of hurt.

On the Road Again: The Adventure Resumes! - June 17, 2009

2009-06-20T17:30:00.003-05:00

Thornton Wilder once said:

"The test of adventure is that when you're in the middle of it, you say to yourself, 'Oh, now I've got myself into an awful mess; I wish I were sitting quietly at home. And the sign that something is wrong with you is when you sit quietly at home wishing you were out having lots of adventures."

After three months of "sitting quietly at home" in Panama, I'm back on the road again. I left Panama on June 17th and flew to Buenos Aires, where I had left my bike. El Pinguino (remember: I had to name the bike after our adventure to Antarctica, and El Pinguino just seemed appropriate) was waiting for me patiently. I wasn't planning on leaving until the second half of July, but another adventure stuck its head out of the sand and I had to move the trip up. I've been offered a visiting professorship at Konkuk University in Seoul, South Korea, and have to be there to begin teaching (international business strategy) on September 1.

So this trip will be a little more rushed (maximum of two months), but that should give me a pretty good feel for the Atlantic side of South America. I came down the Pacific, now I'll return via Brazil, Venezuela, and Colombia. The plan is to fly the bike back from Bogota about the 10th of August, spend a few weeks in Panama, and then off to Seoul. It's been 10 years since we last returned from Asia, so I'm looking forward to it. Initially I wasn't too excited about the idea of spending 7 or 8 months in Korea, but it turns out that their first semester runs from September 1 to the middle of December, then the next semester doesn't start until March 1, 2010. Plenty of time to return to Panama and remind Karen, Maggie, Josh, and Josie (the last three forming part of the Barnett Menagerie) who I am.

So, after my 5:30 am arrival in Buenos Aires I went to Dakar Motos where I had left the bike and waited for someone to wake up and let me in. A few minor repairs, and at 1:30 I was on the road again heading north. My first major stop would be Iguasu falls on the border between Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay. My major worry about this part of the trip was corrupt police. Ruta 14 through northern Argentina is famous for cops looking for a little "coffee money", and I'm not always the most lawful driver on the road. What's a few more km per hour, anyway? The first night I arrived in Colon and had a nice room at the Hotel Rio de Pajaros. More importantly, after two hours sleep on the plane the night before I had a decent steak dinner, a comfortable bed and a good night's sleep.

Friday, 3/19
The constant repairs of the bike have started again. Last night´s problem was that nothing electric worked. That was an easy fix. It turned out that in fixing the turn signal Javier (at Dakar Motos) had loosened the wiring harness. it took me about an hour to find and fix. However, now the right turn signal isn´t working again, so I guess I can only turn left until I fix it. This afternoon I ran out of gas and the speedometer only said I had gone 68 miles. Since I normally go about 200 miles before I need to get gas something was definitely wrong! I don't have a gas guage, so the odometer is my proxy. Actually, I don´t even look at the speedometer itself when I have the GPS on since I have the GPS in kilometers and the speedo is in miles. It turned out the speedometer had stopped working, and I hadn´t noticed (dumb). Anyway, I made it to a gas station on reserve, and fixed (I think) the speedo at the hotel. But I think I got crappy gas and the motor keeps sputtering and died a few times. I´ll drain the carb in the morning. In other words... when you travel by motorcycle you damn well better have a mechanic with you! Damn good thing I learned a few things, but I wish I had learned more.

My paranoia about the corrupt cops on Ruta 14 finally came to fruition today. I hadn´t been stopped yet, but this afternoon I came to the infamous roadblock at km 341. I new it was coming up and so VERY carefully followed the rules. I slowed to 80 at the 80 sign and 60 at the 60 sign. They pulled me over anyway. First the cop told me I was speeding and they had me on radar. I said (politely) BULLSHIT! I told the cop that I knew that they were there, that I knew that this section was very ¨vigilantly¨ patrolled, and that I wasn´t speeding. I also showed my badge. Then the cop asked me for my insurance papers. I had the copy of my Panama insurance, appropriately doctored to include an ¨international coverage endorsement¨, and an appropriate Panama document stamp, so he accepted that. Then he told me he could fine me because I wouldn´t have stopped if he hadn´t pulled me over. So I guess now they are mind readers! I told him that wasn´t true, that I had every intention of stopping, and I did stop. There wasn´t much more he could say so he let me go, and didn´t look very happy doing it.

Night time found me in Santo Tome, Argentina, in a POS hotel in a POS town. Oh well, tomorrow I should get to the falls and some more interesting opportunities.

Saturday, 6/20

More bike problems today. The bad gas I got yesterday is still plagueing me. The motor sputters and dies when I idle. I probably need to take apart the carb and the gas tank and clean them out. Then, just to make sure that I knew that the bike gods were out there, the starter wouldn´t work. It died at a gas station.

Fortunately Johnny, a very nice Argentinian guy (and a musician) came along to help. He actually then towed me with a rope with his 70cc minibike to a shop about 2 km away. It was quite a site to see! On the inclines we actually had to both run along with the bikes since his didn't have enough power to pull the "fat Penguino". Eventually we got to a mechanic who fixed the starter, but not the gas problem.

I also got stopped by the cops again today. This time it was totally my fault. While I hadn´t seen anybody passing over a double yellow line further south, up here they do it all the time. Of course when I did it there was a cop in back of me. It took a LOT of talking to get out of this one. They told me I would have to follow them to the station where they would lock up my bike until I paid the fine on Monday. I know that is complete bullshit, but they were hoping I would ask what I could do to avoid it. I finally talked my way out of it by a combination of ¨fellow cop¨ routine and telling them that the slow truck that I passed had kept motioning for me to pass and I thought he had a problem. When they finally told me they would have to fine me or their chief would get mad I said ¨I understand. Take me to your chief and I´ll talk to him too¨. They didn´t like that idea too much and let me go. Phew!

The next trauma occured when a wasp flew up the sleeve of my jacket. Ouch! Sore and red. So, it´s been quite a day here in Argentina. I arrived at Puerto Iguasu at about 4, but you can only see the falls from the park (about 10 km away) and when I went there they would charge me the entrance even tho it closed in an hour. So tomorrow it's Iguasu Falls, one of the Seven Wonders of the World!

Final Thoughts... The End of the Journey - March 5, 2009

2009-03-05T10:00:00.003-06:00

This will probably be my last post on this blog. Tomorrow morning I fly to Santiago, Chile, for a few days of business and to visit some friends, then on Monday I return to Panama. As you can imagine, this final piece is being written with a great deal of emotion.

This has been an incredible journey. Four years ago this trip was just an idea of something that I would ¨kind of like to do someday¨. I remember sitting around a table at about 2am at my 40th high school reunion and telling some friends what I was planning. I got some looks that made me feel like I had probably forgotten to take my medications, or maybe just had most of my spinach salad stuck in my teeth.

Then the idea started to become a plan: A new bike, and some real research into how one actually goes about doing this kind of adventure. I had never taken on anything so extensive. My ¨practice trip¨ for six weeks through Central America last year was a good beginning, but the difference between six weeks and six months is not linear... it´s a difference of geometric magnitude.

The bike I selected for the trip, the Kawasaki KLR650, has proven to be an excellent choice. In case I didn´t mention it before, it now has a name: El Pinguino, in honor of the fact that a piece of her went to Antarctica with me.

The Kawi is not the best bike in the world, but everything is a compromise and this was a good one. Powerful enough, not TOO heavy, and simple enough that I could find parts and fix pretty much anything. I would select it again in a minute.

It´s currently in Buenos Aires waiting for the next phase of the trip. In some ways I don´t want to see it again for a while... I´m tired and I think we need some time apart. But I know that in 3 or 4 months when I return it will be waiting for me like a faithful friend, and I will be ready once again to climb back into the saddle to see where we end up together.

This has been six months of riding by myself through six countries plus Antarctica, 24,000 kilometers, mountains, deserts, cities, icebergs, and virtually everything else. I´ve gone from 9 degrees north of the equator to more than 67 degrees south (south of the Antarctic Circle). At times I didn´t know if I would make it. There were certainly times when I just wanted to throw the bike down and shout ¨It´s enough already. I want to stop¨. And then I would come upon a scene, a road, or a mountain pass and say to myself ¨Yes, this is what it´s all about. Life just doesn´t get any better than this¨.

I´ve often said that this was the ¨bipolar trip¨, periods of intense lonliness as well as great joy over the people that I have met. Balancing these emotions hasn´t always been easy, but that´s what makes it an adventure and a learning experience.

I have met some incredible people along the way, and want to express my gratitude to so many that supported in ways large and small. It could have been through advice on a road to take (or not take), or just being available for a beer. Also, I want to thank many of you who have been following this blog and wrote words of encouragement. It´s the people in our lives that make the difference.

In particular, I want to thank Karen. There are not too many people in this world who will tell their significant other ¨Sure, take off on a motorbike around South America for the next six months¨. I know that leaving her to deal with houses, pets, bank accounts, and the other minutia of daily life that I usually handle (in Spanish) wasn´t easy, and I appreciate it. This is also the woman who said to me a few weeks ago, as I was still debating what to do when I reached Buenos Aires (sell the bike?, ship it?, continue later?, etc.) ¨You haven´t finished the trip yet. Of course you have to keep going¨. What an attitude!

I really have no idea how to sum this up, and how to end this blog. It has taught me so much about people, places, and myself that I think it will take years of reflection to make sense of it. I´ll be returning to Buenos Aires in 3 or 4 months to ¨complete¨ the journey: Brazil, Venezuela, and probably back to Bogota and Panama.

In the meantime, I´ll leave you with my last view of El Pinguino, sitting at the Dakar Motos shop in Buenos Aires. I know it will be there waiting for me to continue the next adventure.

To Be Continued ...

Finally... Buenos Aires: March 2 to 6

2009-03-05T09:00:00.001-06:00

The ride from Mar del Plata to Buenos Aires was uneventful... 500 km of tarmac. Getting into BA was another matter. This is a huge city, and the place I was looking for is in a far suburb.

I had arranged to store my bike at Dakar Motos, a shop used by many intrepid bikers like myself. After two hours of searching -- unsuccessfully -- I finally called and Javier, the owner, sent someone to find me.

I spent the next two days sleeping in the back room of the shop (pure luxury) and doing general maintenance on the bike. There´s a little more repair to be done before I continue (the wobble in the front end turned out to be bad wheel bearings that need to be replaced), but Javier will take care of that before I return.

Yesterday (March 4), I moved to a hostel in San Telmo, one of the more active and interesting areas of Buenos Aires. I left the bike in the attentive hands of Javier, to be ready for my return. I´ll miss the old girl!

On Friday (March 6) I fly to Santiago for some business with a university there and to visit some friends. Monday, March 9, it´s back to Panama and the end -- at least for now -- of the journey.

It´s been a hell of a ride !

Mar del Plata.. On the Beach: Feb 25 - March 1

2009-03-01T08:47:00.003-06:00

It had been about two months since I had been in a major city, and entering Mar del Plata was a bit of a shock. Normally I leave my bike parked in a place like this, but first I have to get someplace to leave it. Fortunately for GPS, I was able to find the apartment that my friend Alicia (from Ushuaia) had offered to loan me.

Mar del Plata is a huge beach resort. Think Miami Beach on steroids. Also, like Miami, the average age appeared to be in the low 100s. This is high season, so things are crowded. It was nice to just walk around and along the beach for a few days, get laundry done, and catch up on the blog.

Alicia eventually showed up and we did a little sight seeing. One was to the beach (about all I could deal with). More fun was riding my bike to Sierra de los Padres... a village about 20 km from Mar del Plata.

First we went to visit Alicia´s friend Joyce, her daughter Jackie, her boyfriend Ali, their two dogs, and eight horses. It was this last that was the most fun: We saddled up the mounts and all went for a nice ride in the country.

Gauchos we were not, but we still had a lot of fun.

We then went to visit Cristian Villouz and his family, also in Sierra de los Padres. Cristian is a friend of Angel Costa, who had helped me with a project in Uruguay last year. He kindly offered to let me store my bike at his place while I returned to Panama, but in the end I decided to leave it in Buenos Aires. However, it was nice to visit him and see his business operation (fruit preserves)

After a few days it was ¨hasta luego¨ to Mar del Plata, and off for the final run to the Big Apple, Buenos Aires.

The World´s Most Boring Road... Ruta 3 to Mar del Plata: Feb 22 - 24

2009-02-24T07:35:00.004-06:00

I left Calafate early to avoid the Patagonian winds, and fortunately was successful. The paved road heads southeast to Rio Gallegos, then back up Ruta 3 along the Atlantic coast. However, there is a 200 mile dirt road that heads east, and I was told by the cops in El Calafate that this would cut off about 3 hours from the trip... so dirt it was. Fortunately, this time the information was correct: about four hours of pretty good dirt track brought me to the atlantic.

Along the way there was... NOTHING! You will find this to be a recurring theme for the next few days. Miles of pampas, interrupted on occasion by extreme monotony. I did see quite a few guanacos along the way, and finally caught site of several flocks of ñandú. These are an ostrich-like bird that is native to the pampas. Unfortunately, they are very shy and very fast, so by the time I got my camera out they were gone. So I´m cheating (truth in advertising) by putting a picture here that I grabbed from the internet so you´ll know what I saw

I won´t bore you with too many details of the next three days... I had enough boredom for all of us. But basically, stare closely at the picture at the right and then multiply it by 2400 kilometers and you´ll have a good idea of this part of the ride. I plugged in my Ipod (thank you Bill Gates), cranked up the music, set the autopilot (at one point there was a stretch going due north for 100 miles without one single curve), and pushed on.

I stopped the first night in Caleta Olivia, a beach town in the middle of nowhere. The next morning as I was passing through Comodoro Rivadavia I decided to replace my rear tire that was showing a bit too much wear. It only had 3000 miles on it, but the ripio (gravel roads) really tear up the tires.

I found a tire at a Honda shop that would work, but of course they only sell tires... they don´t mount them. That would have been a level of service above and beyond the call of duty. They did however, send me to a tire shop that would mount the tire. However, they wouldn´t take the wheel off of the bike to do it... that would have been a level of service above and beyond the call of duty. So there I spent the morning sitting in the middle of the road removing and reinstalling wheels so that they could change the tire. No proper jack, of course. It didn´t help that I also had a sprained wrist that was bothering me. I have to wonder what someone would do who didn´t know how to do this or have the tools. Ah... customer service at its best.

The only other problem on this stretch was gas. There are enough gas stations along the route, but this being high season many of them run out of gas. This became a problem a couple of times when I had to return to the last city to fill up. My gas milage on this stretch was terrible. While I usually get at least 40 mpg, two things cut this drastically. First, I was going as fast as possible to get this part of the ride over with. I usually cruise at about 100 kph, but I was pushing it to 120-135. The KLR is one of the least aerodynamic bikes ever built, and at higher speeds it is like pushing a brick wall. Then there was the wind. It usually ranged from 40 to 60 miles and hour (sometimes gusting more), and never seemed to come from behind me. So I was either leaning over at 45 degrees, or fighting a direct head wind.

I actually only ran out of gas once: First I ran out and switched to reserve. Then the reserve ran out, but there is a little trick with the KLR that where you lean it WAY over to the left and drain some gas out of the right side of the tank. This worked for another 15 km or so. Then there was the final time. Dead bike. No gas. Nada. Not even fumes. The happy ending: This happened about 100 meters from a gas station! It was the only time on the whole trip that I completely ran out of gas and it is obvious that the gas fairies were looking out for me!

That night I made it to San Antonio del Oeste, and the next day rode the final 900 km to Mar del Plata. My friend Alicia had offered to loan me her apartment there, so I was planning on a few days rest before finishing the trip in Buenos Aires.

El Calafate and Perito Moreno Glacier: Feb 20 - 21

2009-02-21T11:05:00.005-06:00

Friday, February 20, was my last time leaving Chile. I had actually crossed between Chile and Argentina seven times! My passport looks like a commuter book. I think I should get frequent crosser milage, and a ¨fast pass¨. Unfortunately, the governments don´t give a damn, so I just wait in line.

I drove today from Puerto Natales to El Calafate, Argentina. El Calafate is extremely touristy. Nothing but cutesy shops and high prices. But it is also the jumping off point to the Perito Moreno Glacier. I had seen so many glaciers in Antarctica that I wondered if this would be worth it, but everyone kept telling me this was different. And they were right.

First, it is HUGE. Something like 30 km wide by 80 km long. It is also one of the few glaciers surrounded by forest. Most people approach from the road and look at it across the river, or take a boat. Some friends had suggested that I go hiking on the glacier, despite the cost of a tour. It was good advice.

First, after an hour and a half bus ride, we took a boat to the base of the glacier. Just approaching it was impressive.

We then had a short hike through the woods to where we were fit for crampons. (I was told that Extra Strength Midol is good for painful crampons, but that´s another story).

For those not into mountain climbing, crampons are like a combination of the bottom of a golf shoe and the old-fashioned roller skates that you attached to your shoes as a kid. (If you don´t know what a skate key is ask your grandparents!). They keep you from playing ¨slip sliding away¨ on the ice.

Then it was onto the ice for a couple of hours. Interesting crevasses, blue holes, streams, and all the other things that make a giant ice cube worth driving thousands of miles to see.

There was also a pay-off at the end of the hike. The guides pulled out the fine crystal, and a bottle of very cheap whiskey, and we all had a toast of whiskey and glacier ice. And then, of course, we got to hike back down drunk. Well worth it!

As we were waiting for the boat to cross back to the other side (the River Styx?), we kept looking for ice falls (also known as ¨calving¨. We saw a few small ones, but couldn´t get a picture. However, we then heard a loud muffled explosion and an island slowly appeared in front of the glacier. Evidently an underwater piece had broken off. It was eerie, and looked kind of like a new island being formed by a volcanic eruption. It was a unique way to see the birth of an iceberg.

Out of Ushuaia, Back to Chile and Torre de Paines: Feb 17 - 19

2009-02-19T10:42:00.002-06:00

When I left Ushuaia it was an incredibly beautiful day. The mountains that had been so miserable when I arrived in Ushuaia (cold, rain, fog, and dark) were just the opposite. This lasted for a while, then ¨Patagonia¨ caught up with me again. After three hours I was hitting heavy winds (60 mph) that were pushing me across the road. This was on asphalt, but I knew that after the border I had 120 km of dirt and gravel and I really didn´t want to fight it in the wind. Also, my stomach was doing flip-flops on its own.

Fortunately there is a small hotel at the border at San Sebastian. It´s the only thing there, so they know they have you by the short ones. They only had a room with four beds, but said they would only charge me for a double. Anything at that point.

Later, at dinner, I was talking to three young ladies from France and Belgium who needed a place to stay and the waitress suggested they share my room. Oh, if only I was producing porn pictures I couldn´t have come up with a better plot premise! Unfortunately, reality once again reared its ugly head and we just ended up turning it into a dorm... or more like I was the intruder at a girl scout camp. But it was a place to sleep, and ended up being much cheaper by sharing.

And anyway, I can always lie about the ending!

The next morning was much calmer, and the ride fine. Passing Paso Garibaldi gave me a great view of one of Southern Chile´s famous fjords.

The weather from San Sebastian then turned cold. I mean REALLY cold. I stopped to put on everything I owned, including all my electric gear. (Thank you Luz for the balaklava... I really needed it). I arrived in Puerto Natales (Chile) and spent the night.

Originally I had been planning on spending a few camping in Parque Torre de Paines, but given the cold I decided against it. Remember, this is the South At Sixty Tour, not the I Can Suffer Through Anything Tour ... I´m a woooos! The electric gloves and jacket liner were great, but I forgot to turn off the headlights and when I arrived at the park I had a dead battery. You can´t push-start the bike on dusty gravel roads (no traction) but I finally found someone with jumper cables and got going again.

I had a spectacular day riding a couple of hundred miles of dirt to and through the park. Only one minor mishap that resulted in a sprained wrist that is still bothering me. But you can see why the scenery is worth the effort. The critters below are guanacos, a kind of cross between a llama and an antelope.

Back In Ushuaia: Feb 14 - 17

2009-02-17T10:15:00.004-06:00

Our arrival back into Ushuaia couldn´t have been better. First, although the Drake Passage is noted for miserable weather and hellishly seasick passengers it hadn´t been bad for us. It was two days of open ocean, but kind of like a gentle roller coaster rather than being slammed up against a brick wall every 5 seconds. We were lucky... the next day a storm came up and the boats went through a very miserable passage.

As we awoke to come into Ushuaia we had an absolutely perfect sunrise. What a way to end the trip!

It was also nice to see that my bike was still intact at the hotel.

I spent a few more days in Ushuaia. Alicia, my travel agent, had no customers at the time since the season was winding down and wanted me to take her on the bike, so we did a little exploring.

One interesting nearby trip was to visit a guy who raises huskies to race. He has about 70 of them. As a former husky (OK, half husky) owner (We miss you, Yukon), I really appreciated seeing these. Obviously they weren´t too standoffish with me either! I was sorely tempted to bring home a few (like maybe an even half dozen). If I only could have figured out how to fit them on the bike!

We also went to the Parque Nacional Ushuaia. I hadn´t wanted to go into the park before, mainly because of the cost. The real reason for going is because this is where the road ends. I mean, this is really where the road stops: Nada mas. Finito. End of South America. Panamericana termino.... well you get the idea. So it was obviously someplace I needed a picture, but didn´t want to pay 50 pesos ($18) just to go in for a photo op. However, Alicia is a resident with all her documents. When they asked me if I was a resident also I just left my helmet visor down and mumbled ¨Si¨ in my best Argentinian accent. Result: Entry fee of 4 pesos ($1.15).

Obviously this was a picture that I had to get. As you can see, from here it´s only 3079 kilometers back up north to Buenos Aires!

I have to note that we weren´t done with discovering the wildlife here in Ushuaia. We did see one type of penguin in the park that we hadn´t seen in Antarctica. However, they weren´t as cute as the smaller variety. We are also not sure how they breed.

(With apologies to the religious amongst you... but that´s just my warped sense of humor)

The last day in Antarctica – Feb 11

2009-02-11T17:21:00.001-06:00

Today is our last day in Antarctica. Where has the time gone? I was worried that 6 days on ice flows might be too much, but the time has flown by.

This morning we landed at Whalers Bay, on Deception Island. Deception Island is actually a volcano, and there is an opening to the caldera which is filled with water. So in we sailed through Neptunes Bellows, the narrow channel leading into the caldera. The weather was cold, wet, sleeting, snowing, and windy. Just like Antarctica is supposed to be. Coming ashore in the Zodiac was “invigorating”, to say the least.

Whalers Bay is an old whaling station that closed in 1931 due to a slump in the price of whale byproducts. There are still a number of buildings standing and available for exploration.

Deception Island is also one of the few places in Antarctica with flowering plants (there are only two types).

We saw a field of Pearlwort. The excitement was almost overwhelming!

We also had a few fur seals for company. Unlike the other seals we tend to see here (crabeater, leopard, waddell), these are actually members of the sea lion family with big flippers and external ears.

In the afternoon we went to Hannah Point on Livingston Island in the South Shetland Islands. Our expedition leader, Hannah, is quite proud of this place and calls it “my place”, although it was actually named after a ship that sunk a hundred years ago. I don’t think she was on it, but who knows.

At Hannah point there were – go on, try to guess – Gentoo penguins! But more interesting, we had another breed that we hadn’t seen yet, the Chinstrap Penguins.

They are obviously called that because of the distinctive chinstraps that they use to hold the tops of their heads on.

We also encountered a number of young male elephant seals. Male elephant seals can grow to five TONS. The females are only about one sixth that size. Imagine the implications for matrimonial bliss! So, ladies, when you think about complaining that Hubby has put on a few pounds, just think of the elephant seals and how lucky you really are.

I’ve mentioned before the frequent aroma of “eau de Penguin” that we’ve encountered on the islands. The elephant seals make this seem like Chanel #5. Elephant seals spend the vast majority of their lives at sea. They only come ashore to breed and to molt (lose their fur). They are molting in the above photo. In the ocean they don’t have to worry about where they go about their business, so on land they are what might be considered poorly potty trained. They simply go wherever they are, then wallow around in it. When they are done molting, after about a month, they go back into the water and have a good rinse off. But in the meantime, they can be a bit on the ripe side.

There now, isn’t that more than you ever wanted to know about elephant seals? But remember: Knowledge is Power… Go out and use it!

A final farewell:

At 9:12 tonight we passed out of Antarctica. Our last waypoint was Snow Island. How appropriate. We now head back to Drake’s Passage where we will be sailing for two days across open ocean. We hope that it will be as calm as the ride down, but heavy winds are predicted so it might be a bit of a ride.

Snow Island, according to the charts, is located at 62 degrees 51 minutes south by 61 degrees 16 minutes west.

It looks like another chunk of rock in the middle of the Southern Ocean. But it was our last view of Antarctica, and as such will always be located for me in my memory and my heart. This truly is an incredible, unbelievable place. Many people have asked me what the highlight of my trip has been. That has been a difficult question to answer. I’ve loved the people of Colombia, the beautiful colonial architecture of Ecuador and Peru, the colors of the Atacama desert, and the vibrance of cities like Bogota, Quito, and Santiago, among others.

But for a magical place that’s spectacular like no other on earth, the answer has now got to be Antarctica. What an experience!

Whale of a Tale – Feb 10

2009-02-10T17:11:00.000-06:00

This was one of the coolest days! (Wait till you see the picture at the end)

Many of the group got up at 5:00 this morning to take a hike on Cuverville Island. I took a look at the inside of my eyelids and decided that was all the scenery I needed for the time being. 7:00 seemed like a so-much-more-civilized time for coffee!

After breakfast, while cruising from Cuverville to Neko Harbor we had more great scenery.

But then someone shouted “Thar she blows! Whales off the port bow”. Now, we saw whales almost every day, so this wasn’t that different. But I wandered up to the bridge, camera in tow. Off the bow we saw one, then two, then a third humpback whale.

Usually we see them, then they disappear. Generally we see the backs, maybe a fin, ocassionaly the flukes (tail).

These, however, seemed to have found a swarm of krill and were feasting to their heart’s delight. They also were doing something we hadn’t seen before, setting up “bubble nets”. This is when the whales go deep and blow bubbles in a circular pattern to trap the krill. The whales stayed around the boat for quite a long time.

Suddenly one decided it was time for a really big gulp, and up he came. With my fingers working fast and furious on the camera, I came up with my favourite shot of the trip. Note that there are actually three whales in this shot: one in front and one in back of the whale that is feeding. Also notice how he expands his throat to take in more water, then forces it out of the side of his mouth through the baleens. !

I can hardly wait to receive the offer from National Geographic. I’m sure it will be in the mail when I get back to Panama.

Pleneau Island and “The Russians are Coming… Actually, They’re Here” - Feb 9

2009-02-09T16:59:00.000-06:00

This morning we went on shore at Pleneau Island and, imagine my surprise, there was another colony of Gentoo Penguins! I say this because the Gentoo seem to be the pigeons of Antarctica: They are everywhere. However, this doesn’t stop them from being cute, adorable, and amusing.

We saw our first yacht sailing past this morning, the Balaena from New Zealand. I tried to make radio contact, but no luck. What I really wanted was a story for my daughter Kim’s boat cruising website, but she’ll have to make due with the pictures. Having had sailboats in the past, I can’t even imagine the difficulty of sailing in these waters with a small boat. Might even be more exciting than my motorcycle trip!

In the afternoon we visited Wordie House and Vernadsky Station. Wordie House is an old British research station in the Argentine Islands that closed in 1954. They still preserve it as a museum.

There was also another private sailboat anchored there. I couldn’t get details, but it will be another picture for Kim’s collection.

From Wordie House it was just a short hop to Vernadsky Station. This was originally a British research post, but they later sold it to the Ukranians for 1 pound sterling. Vernadsky has done a lot of the research measuring and documenting the growth in the hole in the ozone layer, so it’s quite scientifically important.

However, science isn’t the only things that keep the lads busy. They run a very profitable little post office, with letters and post cards going first to the Ukraine, then to wherever they are mailed. I’ll be interested to see how long it takes to get a post card from Antarctica to Panama via the Ukraine!

They also keep the bar open for visitors, selling shots of vodka (what else!) for a buck. We, of course, felt that we would be impolite guests if we didn’t avail ourselves of their wares.

And in addition to collecting information about the ozone, they also collect (… drumroll…) bras! Just how this started is lost in the muddied waters of history, but they have quite an impressive collection behind the bar. The prize exhibit, as clearly obvious in this photo, belonging to a being of whose proportions we can only begin to imagine.

One of our group had read of this collection and brought along her own contribution specifically for the station. Unfortunately (for her sense of philanthropy), they decided that the specimen offered was not of sufficient scientific curiosity to warrant a display in the station. Seen two, seen ‘em all!

Mutton Cove and the Fish Islands – Feb 8

2009-02-08T16:40:00.001-06:00

In the morning we were again unable to land, but took a Zodiac ride around Mutton Cove. There were some incredible icebergs that looked like they had been sculpted for the next Antarctic Ice Art Show.

We also saw some Imperial Cormorants nesting on the ice flows.

We were constantly passing incredible icebergs. Many, because they were formed under water and contain very little oxogyn, are an absolutely brilliant blue color.

In the afternoon we landed on the Fish Islands. A series of very small islands with names like Minnow, Sardine, and Cod. Lots of Adelie penguins to keep us amused. Photo, Me and Adelie Penguins.

It was interesting to watch a skua (a fairly common bird here) looking for a meal, since one of his favourites is penguin chick. He was not successful this time.

South of the Antarctic Circle: Detaille Island and the Antarctic Peninsula - Feb 7

2009-02-07T17:14:00.000-06:00

I wanted to be awake for crossing the Antarctic Circle. Don’t know why, but it just seemed like a cool thing to do. However, we were supposed to cross at about 4:00 am so I didn’t think my chance were too good. I happened to wake up at about 2:45 and made my way to the bridge. Lo and behold, we had picked up speed and I had missed it by about an hour! Anyway, I got the GPS reading at 66 degrees 45 minutes south (The Antarctic Circle, defined as the latitude at which there is 24 hours of sunlight at the summer solstice, Dec 21, is currently at 66 degrees 33 minutes south). Photo, Across the Antarctic Circle.

Saturday we couldn’t land due to ice conditions, but we took a Zodiac cruise around Detaille island. Lots of sea ice really made you realize that you were in Antarctica. This really is an expedition, not just a cruise. It certainly isn´t your basic Carnival Cruise to the Caribbean, and there is a definite element of danger.

The penguins also liked the sea ice.

There were some truly amazing icebergs, and I may have to put together a collection of photos just on the chunks of ice.

Even on a Zodiac ride, the wildlife was amazing. We had some very curious crab-eater seals following us. One just couldn’t understand why we didn’t invite him into the boat with us.

In the afternoon we landed at Cape Saenz, on the Antarctic Peninsula itself. We were greeted by a pair of leopard seals, the second highest animal in the Antarctic food chain. The favourite meal of leopard seals is the penguin. The only predator of the leopard seal is the Killer Whale (Orca).

We also had a humpback whale who got curious and decided to investigate our Zodiac for about 20 minutes. He just stayed close by, rolled over a few times, and was very playful. We also didn’t invite him onto the boat due to his length of about 40 feet! In this photo he was between our boat and another.

All in all, we ended the day wondering how we could top this!

Arrived in Antarctica: Petermann Island - Feb 6

2009-02-06T16:58:00.002-06:00

We’ve landed in Antarctica.

As I drove my motorcycle off the ship and onto the ice I really felt like one of the early explorers. Looking back in my rear view mirror, seeing the ship, the ice, and the penguins, was overwhelming!

OK, the above isn’t exactly accurate. Try as I might, I couldn’t get them to let me take the Kawasaki on the boat. But I felt really bad for the Kawi… it had come this far and wouldn’t get to go the last bit with me. So I took a piece of motorcycle to Antarctica: A rear view mirror. At least I could honestly say that I had gone to Antarctica WITH the bike, if not ON the bike.

Our first view of Antarctica was unimaginable. Critters and scenery that had only existed for me in National Geographic or postcards.

All of our landings were made in Zodiacs. Sometimes more dry than others.

Antarctica is penguin country. They own the place. Willy is EVERYWHERE. We saw three different breeds of penguins, and didn’t have a landing with at least some to keep us company. BTW, it’s impossible to be sad while watching penguins. This is a Scientific Fact!

This was getting close to the end of the breeding season, but there were still plenty of chicks around. These are Gentoo.

Adelie Penguins were also plentiful, but not as many as the Gentoo.

It was always interesting to watch feeding time. Mom and dad go out to sea, eat krill, and come back to regurgitate it for the baby. Mmmm... fresh puke. But the babies seem to like it!

As the chicks molt their baby feathers, they are sometimes left with some interesting haircuts. This style is called the Mohican.

Off to Antarctica: Beagle Channel and Drake Passage - Feb 3 – 5

2009-02-03T16:41:00.000-06:00

On Feb 3 I boarded the Polar Star for Antarctica. We set sail at about 5:30 pm and entered the Beagle Channel. The weather and the scenery were incredible. If this is a portent of things to come it will be fantastic!

One of the special things about this particular cruise was that we were scheduled to go below the Antarctic Circle. Most of the cruises are 1 or 2 days shorter and don’t have this opportunity. I figure, if you’re going to go… go all the way. OK, all the way would have been the South Pole, but that wasn’t an option. The Antarctic Circle was just fine with me!

On occasion we saw another ship in the channel. It was a beautiful night, and we just hoped that the rest of the voyage would be up to this level. (It was).

The Polar Star itself holds 100 passengers. This is a nice size, and is the maximum that are allowed to land at one time at most sites in Antarctica. On larger ships everyone doesn’t get to land at all sites, but we did.

Of course, the first day we had to do the lifeboat drill. They also asked for volunteers for the Man Overboard drill, but had no offers.

After leaving the Beagle Channel, we entered the Drake Passage. This is about 800 miles of open ocean, with no land masses to block the wind or waves, and where two oceans meet. It can be some of the worst seas in the world. We spent two full days crossing the Drake. Fortunately, we had reasonably good weather, and minimal seasickness. Yours truly had no problems (Thank you, Meclezine).

Time during these two days was filled with lectures on various aspects of Antarctica. They have a very well prepared expedition team of biologists, geologists, and all the other appropriate “ists” necessary. What we never did find out (and maybe that is best) is why the location shown on the board in this photo is called ¨Port Circumcision¨.

In any event, when we got there none of the male passengers chose to make this particular landing.

The ship also has an “open bridge” policy, and except when they are doing delicate maneuvers the passengers are free to spend time on the bridge. As this has the best view (and is warm) we spent much time there.

In Ushuaia, Planning for Antarctica: Jan 28 to Feb 3

2009-02-03T16:25:00.003-06:00

NOTE: Those of you who have been following this blog since I left in September may notice a change in the description. Originally (until today), the tag line was ¨Steve Barnett's Trip to the Bottom of the World (Panama to Tierra del Fuego 2008/2009¨. But now I´ve moved the goalposts... and the description is now Panama to Antarctica. Who knows what it might become int the future?

But back to today´s news:

My arrival in Ushuaia was great, but not without problems. The hotel that I had booked had a place to store my bike, but no way to get the bike up the stairs into the storeroom. The owner could not have been less helpful (he was definitely of the “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn” philosophy). I asked him if this meant I would have to go somewhere else and his answer was “I guess so”. No offers of assistance. A pox be on his progeny! May his wife smell of elderberries! I did find a very helpful hostal a few blocks away (the Pueblo Viejo, which I highly recommend) and was properly ensconsed.

The next morning I started working on preparation for Antarctica.

I contacted Alicia and got my paperwork for the boat. Unfortunately, they had changed the room that they had promised me and I was now in a triple with a shared bath. Certainly not the palatial acommodations I had come to expect for my substantial discount. Fortunately, Alicia has pull with the cruise company and got me switched back to a nice double. (I did meet the guy whose place I took, and he was not a happy camper in the triple. Asi es la vida!)

I spent the next few days catching up on email, buying a few last minute pieces of warm clothing, and eating fantastic lamb washed down with a good Malbec. The city itself is small, full of cruise boats and tourist shops, but with quite a nice view. The surrounding mountains are full of glaciers.

I also had plenty of time for the two museums in town. One is built in the old prison, and is an interesting perspective on Ushuaia, which was originally a penal colony.

The museum is also an art gallery. Seattle has its art pigs, Chicago has its art bulls, so of course Ushuaia has its art penguins.

Finally February 3 arrived, and I was off to a new part of the adventure. My travel agent, Alicia, took me down to the ship (what service!) and I boarded the Polar Star to head for Antarctica… truly the End of the World!

Mission Accomplished… Into Ushuaia Jan 28

2009-01-28T16:14:00.001-06:00

This Was The Day That Was !

From Rio Gallegos I kept heading south. First I had to cross the border from Argentina into Chile. The crossing to Tierra del Fuego, as well as the northern part of Tierra del Fuego, is Chile. Then it switches back to Argentina.

The border crossing itself was the worst I have encountered on the trip. Everybody going to Tierra del Fuego OR to southern Chile (Puerto Natales, etc.) filters through here. The lines were almost two hours long, and they have about 3 immigration agents to handle everybody. Two of them are usually at lunch. The other is retarded.

After this I arrived at the ferry that would carry me to Tierra del Fuego. This was the famous Straights of Magellen. It’s only about a half hour ride, but given the winds was a bit bouncy.

After crossing, the first 30 km of road is pavement, then it turns to dirt. However, it is a good dirt road and I was enjoying it. Also, the excitement was building. Here I was – actually in Tierra del Fuego – after all this time. I finally came to a sign that really started the emotions going into full gear, telling me that I had arrived in the Argentinian province of Tierra del Fuego and Antarctica.

My emotions at this point were really running high. I had been planning this trip for three years, had been riding for four and a half months through six countries, had ridden almost every kind of road imaginable (paved, dirt, sand, gravel, mud, rivers… you name it), had covered more than 18,000 km, had been through nice weather, rain, sandstorms, and thousands of kilometres of wind, and now I was almost there.

Parts of the road are very pretty, with pampas leading right down to the ocean, but the winds continued to be high.

After 125 km of dirt I reached San Sebastian, and the border crossing back into Argentina. This one was much easier, with little traffic. The road here also turns back to pavement… a real pleasure. The problem I was now facing was the light. The border delays had set me back a bit and I didn’t want to ride in the dark. But I kept going on.

I could see huge rain clouds in the distance, and it was beginning to get cold. I mean REALLY cold. I was, after all, getting near the bottom of the world. I stopped to put on rain gear and my electric jacket and gloves. I managed to avoid the rain, but it had left the roads wet and I was now riding directly into the sun, which was also reflecting off the road leaving me almost blind. I also hadn’t known that someone had thrown in a small mountain range before Ushuaia. I had been riding through thousands of miles of flat pampas, so I thought that sticking in a mountain range at the end was just downright inconsiderate.

The race at this point got to be with the light… I was losing it fast and there was nowhere to stop. Finally, around 10 oclock, just as it was getting dark, I reached Ushuaia.

Emotions peaked as I realized that I had reached my dream and my goal. I now have many biker friends who have also done this, and many who tried but didn’t make it all the way. But I had, and it felt awfully damn good.

Mission accomplished

Perito Moreno Through Patagonia: Jan 25 - 28

2009-01-28T07:18:00.007-06:00

I arrived in Perito Moreno at night, and again was flabbergasted by the prices, but managed. In the morning I saw two bikers on the other side of the street and did a quick U turn to see who it was. One turned out to be Robert Vinet, who I had shared a room with (and his wife) in Antofagasta about a month before. He was on his way north from Ushuaia and couldn’t believe that I was still heading south. What can I say… you have to stop and smell the roses!

While in Perito Moreno I got an email from Thierry, the Swiss chap I had met in Osorno. He wrote me from Puerto Natales (Chile) that he had already left Ushuaia. He wanted to try to get a last minute cruise slot from Ushuaia to Antarctica, but nothing was available. He said that ships were either full, or he would have to wait around a week or two on a waiting list and then still not be certain of a space.

Now, my intention all along was to do the same: To try for a last minute slot on a cruise to Antarctica, so I was a little discouraged. Fortunately, I had gotten the card of a travel agent in
Ushuaia from some Aussies that I met in Puyuapi the week before. Her name is Alicia Petiet (Alicia@antarcticatravels.com) and they raved about how good she was. So after looking all over Perito Moreno to buy a cell phone chip and pre-paid card for my phone, I gave Alicia a call. I told her I needed a fast answer, because I either would go south on Route 40 to Calafate or east to Route 3 to make a fast bee-line to Ushuaia. Within 15 minutes Alicia called me back and had me booked on the Polar Star for a 12 day cruise starting on February 3. And she got me on exactly the kind of boat I wanted (100 passengers) at a very good rate (40% off full fare).

So... change of plans. I didn’t have time to visit Calafate and Parque Torre de Paines and still get to Ushuaia on time for my cruise… especially if something delayed me. Since I had just paid for the entire fare by credit card I didn’t really want to miss the boat. So it was a quick run across Argentina to Ruta 3 along the Atlantic coast, and down through Patagonia.

Now, I have to tell you that I had been warned about the ride through Patagonia: it is BORING! Literally thousands of miles of nothing but pampas (plains), broken up by occasional bursts of... nothing. And there is a constant wind of from 50 to 100 kph, usually from the side. I never got quite used to riding on a 45 degree angle to the right, but I figure I only wore down the right side of my tires. I’ll use the left side on the way back up. Photo, Pampas

The first night I camped in Jaramillo. Not much there, but there is a real lack of accommodations out here. The next day I went to Rio Gallegos.

On the way, while stopped in a gas station, I met Lobos, a Brazilian from Florianopolis. We decided to go to Rio Gallegos together and share a room (we were still appalled at the prices). It turns out he is also a business professor, so we had a lot in common. What we didn’t have in common was language: He spoke neither English nor Spanish and I don’t speak Portugese. However, between his Portugese and my Spanish we managed to communicate (in Portañol)

The window of our hotel room opened directly onto the parking area of the hotel, so we decided it was a lot shorter to use than going all the way around to the lobby to get to our bike gear. Either that, or Lobo was practicing for a new career as a cat burglar.

Lobo went on to Ushuaia the next day, while I stayed in Rio Gallegos to get some errands done. After all, I didn’t need to be in Ushuaia until Feb 2 so there was no hurry. Leaving Rio Gallegos I came to the same police checkpoint I had passed coming down. I thought that the road to Rio Gallegos had been at a T junction and I had to come back out the same way. When I told the cop I was on my way to Ushuaia he just looked at me kind of strange. Then told me I was going in the wrong direction. Oh well, sometimes detours are planned and sometimes they just happen. This one was a little 50 km jaunt back, and then I was on the way to Ushuaia.

Puerto Ibanez: Rodeos, Fiestas, and Out of Chile: Jan 24 – 25

2009-01-25T06:53:00.012-06:00

Saturday I rode to down the Carretera Austral to Puerto Ibanez, where I had heard about a fiesta. Adam was nowhere to be seen or heard from, although I eventually got an email from him after I had left.

Puerto Ibanez is a little town on Lake General Carrera with the incredible normal population of 700. The river, laden with silt, comes into the lake there and you can see the difference it makes in the water.

The town consists of a few dirt roads, and a couple of stores and hostels. It’s basically dirt poor. However the hostel where I stayed was a beehive of activity. In fact, they moved one of the family out of his bedroom so they could rent it out to me. The owner and I got to be great friends (he told me he was going to get a motorcycle some day, too.) As you can see, definitely a resort quality place.

The owners daughters also thought my motorcycle was extremely cool, and promptly proceeded to take it over for their very own.

The fiesta was kind of a one event rodeo: Wild bronc riding. It went on all day, brought in participants and audience from both Chile and Argentina, and was a lot of fun.

The Argentine gauchos are known for their horsemanship, and they certainly diplayed it.

That night there was a big dance/fiesta. Two of the three bands that were playing were staying at my hostel, and the music started there long before the real party started.

The fiesta itself drew in everyone of all ages from the area. It didn’t really get going until about 11:00, and I understand ended about 5. I conked out about 3:00 and went back to the hostel. . When I got up to go the bathroom at 7:45 am people were still partying in the living room. They were also still going at 10 am when I finally got up. These people do know how to party!

The next day, once I had recovered, I took the ferry from Puerto Ibanez to Chile Chico. I then crossed over into Argentina and rode to Perito Moreno for the night, where I was greeted bhy the shock of southern Argentinea prices in the high season. About three times what I was used to paying! Nonetheless, I found adequate shelter for the night and planned to ride in the morning down Ruta 40, reported to be one of the most challenging in Patagonia, to Calafate.

South on the Carretera Austral: Jan 19-23

2009-01-23T11:56:00.002-06:00

Karen left this morning, and I rode 100 km back to Osorno to get tires for my bike. This had already been arranged, and it wouldn’t have been a problem if anyone had been at the shop. Unfortunately, the shop was closed. After calling around I finally found them and they promised they would be there ‘soon’. In the meantime, I went to find some oil to do an oil change. Only I only had to try four places before I found someplace with an acceptable oil.

Back at MotoAdventuras, Victor arrived and changed the tires while I changed the oil, and then I was back on the road to Puerto Montt. This was now the fifth time I had ridden this stretch of road and it is BORING!

Adam and I had agreed to split the cost of the hotel (at a reduced rate since we wouldn’t be sleeping there) so we had a place to shower and re-pack since the boat didn’t leave until midnight. This was a real pleasure.

We began lining up to load at 10pm as instructed. And waited. And waited. The boat was full of trucks, and they all had to be loaded backwards so that they could roll off in Chaiten. We finally got my bike on and stuck in amongst some trucks.

The ferry ride itself was not particularly pleasant. Think of economy class on Aeroflot without all the luxury and you’ll have a good idea of the ferry. I grabbed a really good seat with lots of leg room as soon as we got on the boat. Then they announced that there were teeny, itty-bitty numbers on the tickets that were seat assignments. I was immediately displaced by a family with 12 kids. The smart passengers were the backpackers who grabbed space under the tables and set out their mats and sleeping bags. I, on the other hand, got to curl up next to a logger who hadn’t bathed since October… 2006. Little sleep and a cramped neck were my rewards for the evening.

But eventually we arrive, about 9 am, in Chaiten, and the ferry unloaded. This was much faster than the loading since everyone was heading in the right direction

Chaiten used to be a fairly thriving tourist town until last May when the Chaiten volcano decided to blow its top. The volcano and surrounding area are beautiful, and as you can see the volcano still hasn’t broken its smoking habit.

The town itself was devastated. It’s now a ghost town, mostly under ash. There are a few stores that have reopened, and Adam and I were able to get some food.

We had decided that we would ride to the hot springs at El Amarillo, take it easy for the day (since we hadn’t slept), and camp there. I should mention that Adam is a Brit who has been riding around the world for two and a half years. He generally camps, and is well prepared for it. I, on the other hand, do not and am not. I also like a softer bed. Adam’s longer term travel also meant that he was on a bit tighter budget than I was. Travelling with someone else has both its advantages and disadvantages. When you each have different agendas, budgets, or styles it can cause some problems. We enjoyed a few days together, and were planning on travelling down Ruta 40 (one of the tougher stretches of the trip) together, but then because of this we ended up separating.

But we did enjoy the camp, and had lots of privacy, as we were the only ones there. There were a couple of guys in the thermals for the day who worked at one of the nearby salmon farms, and I learned a lot from them about the local salmon farming industry. Did you know that a salmon bush can be harvested twice a year, then has to be dug up and replanted. The salmon themselves are picked from the branches using a kind of threshing machine. Or maybe I had a bit of a problem with the translations!

The Carretera Austral is mostly dirt from this point. Most of it is decent, but there are some bad areas where they are doing construction. Riding south on it, however, was spectacular. We just kept saying to ourselves ‘This is what I came to southern Chile for’. There are just some days that make all the crap worthwhile, and this was one of them. As you can see, incredible scenery.

There was also a bit of mystery, as we had no idea how an old plane wreck happened to be parked at the side of the road. Talk about off course!

That night (Thursday) we stayed in Puyuapi, where I found a decent hostel (although run by a semi-lunatic woman) while Adam camped. Also in the Small World department, we ran across four Aussies that Adam had met in Australia a year before. One of them gave me the card of a travel agent who had helped them get a last minute trip to Antarctica, and this turned out to be one of the best things that happened to me, as she later became a life-saver in getting me down onto the ice.

The next day we went to Coihaique, where again I found a hostel and Adam camped. After about two hours of looking at places together we decided to each look for our own accommodations. Since I had a cell phone and Adam did not, he promised to call me the next morning to make plans. Unfortunately, he never called. I heard about a local horse riding fiesta the next day in Puerto Ibanez and really wanted to go. I sent Adam an email, but got no response until after I had left the next day. So Adam (at least as a travelling companion) became history. Saturday I was off to Puerto Ibanez.

Chiloe to Lake Country: Jan 13 - 18

2009-01-18T11:41:00.003-06:00

From Chiloe we took the ferry back to Puerto Montt. Among other things, I had to see about getting a ticket for the ferry from Puerto Montt to Chaiten (the REAL beginning of Southern Chile and the Carretera Austral or Southern Highway). Not surprisingly, the office of the boat company, Naviera Austral, was completely screwed up. I say not surprisingly because we had gotten totally different information about sailing routes and schedules from the two tourist information agencies in Chiloe, it was impossible to get them to answer a phone, and their web site was down.

I wanted to take the boat on Monday after Karen left, but they told me there was no space for a motorcycle. Come on girls, ‘it’s a bike not a car’, says I, ‘it hardly takes any space at all’. But they gave me their best ‘Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn’ look and told me I would have to wait. Now, since the next available boat was 5 days later I wasn’t having any of that. And having lived long enough in Latin America, I knew that there is always someone who can make a different decision. So upstairs I go to talk to the jefe supremo (head honcho) who says those words I’ve so come to love to hear: ‘no problema’. So my trip is arranged, and off we go to the lake country.

Wednesday night was the SPLURGE. Warning: Those of you who use Lonely Planet guides on a regular basis know that their information of prices is generally a POS. For the rest, be aware. Anyway, according to the Lonely Planet, the price for day use of the spa at the Hotel Puyuehe was about $15. This was for the thermal pools. This hotel is a definite 5 star, and day use was a lot higher than we thought. When I asked them for the price if we stayed overnight, what they quoted was not much higher than day use, or so we thought. After checking in, when they gave me the credit card slip it turned out that price was per person… so a little more than planned. To make a long story short (I know, it’s already too late for that), we ended up staying in this beautiful 5 star, all inclusive hotel for the night. We decided it was our Christmas present to each other, since we had not been together for the holidays.

I’m usually not too impressed with ‘all inclusive’ facilities since they often tend to skimp on food or other things, but this one was great. Food, wines, drinks, you name it: all top notch.

Massage was extra, but after months sitting on a motorcycle I just NEED one sometimes. There are certain parts of the anatomy (not to be excessively described) that simply spend too much time in contact with the motorcycle and need to be rubbed out, as it were. When I get rich I’m definitely going back.

On Thursday we went to Argentina. The border crossing from Chile to Argentina was no hassle, and the road through the mountains was beautiful.

The first town we came to was Villa La Angostura. Very pretty, and we were told very expensive. Our original intention was to ride to Bariloche and stay there for a few days, so on we went. However, as we approached Bariloche the landscape changed. Fewer trees, somewhat barren, and very heavy winds. We decided to return to Villa La Angostura. Unfortunately, there were NO hotel rooms available, but after about 15 tries (nobody bothers to put out a ‘no vacancy’ sign… that would make too much sense) we found a room in a beautiful budget-buster. We had a great steak dinner (Argentine beef can’t be beat) at a restaurant on the lake, and the next day returned to Chile.

We got a nice little rustic cabin on another lake, and stayed for three days

We also did some hiking in the park at Aguas Calientes (the poor man’s version of the Hotel Puyehe), which kind of reminded us of the rain forest on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington.

On Sunday, Jan 18, we rode back to Puerto Montt. On the way we stopped for lunch in Puerto Veras, where we also had coffee with Sandra Shories, the young German woman who I had met in Cuenca, Ecuador. She was working for three months at the Casa Azul hostel, which looked really nice.

While we were checking email in Puerto Varas, I found a message from Adam Lewis. Adam had seen a posting I did on Horizons Unlimited (an adventure motorcyclists’ website) asking if anyone was travelling in this area. He said he was in Puerto Varas. I told him that I was in Puerto also, and by the time we got back to my bike Adam was standing next to it. He figured it had to be mine. We decided to try to get him onto the ferry the next day with me and ride together a bit.

The next morning Karen flew back to Panama, while I rode up to Osorno for a new set of tires, then back to stay in Puerto Montt until the ferry for Chaiten left at midnight. We had managed to get Adam a ticket on the boat (also had to go back to ‘el jefe supremo’ again), so I had a travelling companion for at least a little while.

Chiloe Island: Jan 10-13

2009-01-13T11:28:00.002-06:00

Karen arrived in Puerto Montt at about midnight on Jan 9 and finally found her way to the hotel (after having the taxi driver try to take her to another hotel with a similar name). It was about time that she got a taste of what I had been doing for the last 4 months, so we were going to travel together by motorcycle for the rest of her trip. I left half of my gear at the hotel in Puerto Montt so that we could do this.

On Saturday we took the ferry to the town of Ancud on Chiloe Island, where we ensconced ourselves in a really nice cabin on the cliffs over the beach at Cabanas Eucalipto. It was nice to be able to do some cooking, relaxing, wine drinking, and walking on the beach.

That night was an exceptionally bright full moon, and the view was spectacular.

Sunday we went to see the penguin colony. Karen had worked as a volunteer penguin feeder at the aquarium in Niagara Falls when we lived in Toronto, so I figured this was right up her alley. Also, I figured that I would get to see penguins in southern Chile or Argentina, but this might be her only chance. The ride out included 17 km of dirt road, which Karen had never done on a motorcycle, but she hardly screamed at all! Good for you, kid. We then went by boat to view the Magallanes and Humbolt penguins on the nearby islands.

The next day we rode to Castro, the capital of Chiloe, for a great seafood lunch. Many of the houses here are built on stilts over the water, which reminded me of many of the ‘arcs’ along the waterfront when we used to live on the houseboat in Sausalito.

Puerto Saavedra to Puerto Montt: Jan 6-9

2009-01-09T11:18:00.000-06:00

Leaving Puerto Saavedra towards Temuco, I passed a couple of bikers (the kind you have to pedal... waaay too much work!) on the road who looked kind of familiar. I did a U turn and discovered that they were Chris and Victoria, a Swiss couple who I had met at my hostel in Arequipa, Peru, a month before. Now how, I asks meself, do these guys catch up with me in Chile on pedal bikes? It turns out they (wisely) cheated… they put their bikes and themselves on a bus and missed a thousand miles of desert.

On to Pucon, a beautiful town on a lake with a picture-perfect volcano as a background

Actually, maybe a little too beautiful. I think you could interchange this place with Banff, Whistler, or Jackson Hole and nobody would notice. The buildings were exact copies.

And expensive! It was only the second time on the trip that I have slept in the dorm room of a hostel, but nothing else was available at anywhere near an affordable price. I thought, ‘Wow, me and two twenty-something year old dutch babes sharing a bedroom’. But – alas – for the old guy (me) it was only a distant fantasy.

That night I went with one of my ‘roommates’ from the hostel and a group of Israelis to a hot springs, where we managed to soak up a lot of hot water externally while we input a somewhat smaller quantity of red wine internally .

From Pucon I headed towards Puerto Montt, where Karen would meet me on the 9th. I spent one night in Osorno where I ran into Thierry, a Swiss guy who had ridden with David Collette (the South African I had ridden with in Colombia). Thierry proved invaluable in giving me some information about Ushuaia that would change the later part of my trip. But more about that later. I also made a stop at MotoAdventuras in Osorno to arrange to have some new tires put on the bike the following week. I figured I was going to need a new set of more dirt-oriented tires for the dirt and gravel roads down south. It turned out they stocked Metzler Sahara 3s, just what I needed.

I arrived in Puerto Montt on the 9th and waited for Karen to arrive around midnight.

South from Santiago to Puerto Saavedra – Jan 3 – 5

2009-01-05T10:36:00.001-06:00

Leaving Santiago, for the south was mostly agriculture and freeway. Not only boring, but since Santiago is surrounded by mountains the entire valley retains the smog and pollution levels are high. I rapidly got tired of this and decided I needed a detour to the coast. The road to Constitution was nice, but very hot.

Constitution itself was not of particular interest, although there were some interesting rock formations along the coast. This is called ¨Piedra de Ventanas¨ (rock of windows).

Leaving Constitucion on Sunday morning (Jan 4) was almost a perfect day. After all that time in the desert, I felt like I was back riding in the Northwest (I really missed you, Don and Herb). The road followed the coastline, through pine forests and farming villages. Timber is a major industry in this area, and it even smelled like Tacoma, with many pulp mills.

There were also many beautiful fields of wildflowers. I was really enjoying the ride and the scenery.

I stopped for coffee in Chanco. While most of this part of Chile is quite modern, I did see one particularly interesting set of gentlemen in an ox cart along the road on their way to market. (

I decided to pass by Concepcion, Chile’s second largest city. After the holidays in Santiago I had had enough of large cities to last me for a while. I ended up that night in Lota, a former coal mining town now fallen on hard times. However, I did stop to ask the local cops for hotel directions and one of them actually went with me and helped me find a place to stay. His name was Milton, and when I told him that was my father’s name he figured I would never forget him. How true! He also was amazed that I went looking for him later just to take his picture

The next morning in Lota was really interesting. As I said, this is an old coal mining town. Since the mines closed about 20 years ago, some of the miners work as tour guides in one of the old mines, something I just had to do. We started off by going 150 feet underground in the old cage elevators… hardhats and headlamps absolutely necessary since there is no electricity and very low ceilings.

This mine extended miles underground, with tunnels even going out under the ocean. The conditions that the miners worked in, particularly in the early 1900s, were appalling. Not too far from slavery. Like many ‘company towns’, even in the US, they were forced to buy their supplies from the company store, often at highly inflated prices.

Originally all mining was done with a pick and shovel, but eventually they got hydraulic jackhammers.

Heading south, I stopped by a beautiful lake for a little picnic, I then rode on towards Puerto Saavedra where ran into 50 km of dirt road. The bad part of this was that they were re-doing the road and it was all fresh, loose gravel. This stuff is absolute crap to ride through, with constant sliding around. It was not particularly pleasant (OK, it really sucked).

However, finally I arrived at Puerto Saavedra, where I stayed at a great little hotel on the beach for the night.

La Serena, Santiago, and the Holidays Dec 13 - Jan 3

2009-01-03T15:05:00.001-06:00

La Serena is truly where the Atacama desert FINALLY ends. There´s all this funny green stuff around that I hardly recognized!

After 4 days resting up and doing some bike repairs in La Serena I took off towards Valle de Elqui. This is one of the wine growing regions. It looked a little different than the sand I was used to.

This is a prime Pisco region. Pisco is kind of like brandy... distilled from wine made from muscatel grapes. I visited the Capel pisco factory while here but frankly, after spending 20 years near the Napa valley, I didn´t learn anything new about the process. Now the tasting... that´s another story.

I had been planning on taking a dirt road that was recommended to me south from Elqui, and the first part was fine. But after a while I hit loose dirt on steep curves. After my experience in the sand (and a still sore back) I figured that if I dumped the bike in this stuff it was going to be too much strain to get it back up, so I returned to La Serena and went south on a secondary, but paved, road. I spent the night in Combarbalá. Nothing special.

From Combarbalá, I took another dirt road south. The road itself was fine, but then I hit a series of three tunnels. As you might imagine, tunnels on a dirt road are also dirt. They are also not lit. This makes it very difficult to tell where the wall stops and the floor begins. I went very slow through these, and after 30 miles went back to pavement.

The last stop before Santiago was the Reserva Nacional de Chinchillas (National Chinchilla Reserve). I figured I would visit my coat, while it still had a personality. The area where the chinchillas live is semi-arid with a lot of cactus. I looked all over and couldn´t spot one of the little suckers. Finally got to the visitor center (I was the only visitor, so had a nice private guided tour) and found out that chinchillas are nocturnal. No wonder I couldn´t see them. It also probably explains why they only go well with evening gowns.

The visitor center was very well done, and they had a darkened section of cages and displays where you could see the chinchillas and other nocturnal critters of the area. So my coat is still alive and well and living in Chile!

I arrived in Santiago on Christmas eve. I had been invited by Luz Muñoz, a young lady I met in Nazca, to spend Christmas eve with her and her mother, which I thought was really sweet. We spent the first part of the night cooking pastel de choclo, a traditional Chilean dish of corn, meat, onions, and other mystery ingredients. My assigned job was to stir. When I asked Luz for how long, she said ¨siempre¨ (forever). Fortunately I only had to stir for about an hour and a half, or until my arm fell off and into the corn mix.

Luz and I decorated the tree, and since we had no proper base for the tree I introduced them to the Panamanian tradition of ¨Christmas Bricks¨. Many Panamanians don´t know about this, but they are used to balance the tree and keep it from falling over (look closely at the picture). Of course, we only had ordinary bricks avaliable, not the silver or gold variety traditionally used in Panama. (Don´t worry, Luz didn´t beleive the story either!)

Luz gave me a couple of biker T-shirts and a balaclava (or is it baklava?). I either look like a biker ninja or an Al Quaida escapee. Luz´s ex had just bought a motorcycle, so we spend part of Christmas day giving him some bike lessons.

After Christmas I went out to the coast, north of Valparaiso, and visited Lucho Palma and his girlfriend Rene. Lucho is a friend of Jaime Brito, the brother of Jose Brito, a friend of mine in Panama (got that). They graciously invited me to their place on the beach at Paduco.

I then headed for Valparaiso, where I discovered that there is no hotel with parking for a bike, and all the parking lots are closed on Sunday. After a few very frustrating hours I returned to Santiago.

I spent new years with some other friends who invited me to a New Years Eve party. Lot´s of fun (the little I remember). The next day Karen walked me around to do some sight seeing (this is Cerro Santa Lucia). Santiago doesn´t have a reputation for being a great tourist destination, but there are some really nice parts.

Holidays being over, it was time to get back on the road.

Caldera and Vallenar to La Serena Dec 18 -22

2008-12-22T14:02:00.004-06:00

Leaving Caldera I decided to take a couple of off-road detours along the coast. The 200 km of dirt through Torotal and Corizal Bajo to Huasco was beautiful. I had an excellent lunch (congrio, a kind of eel) in Corizal, where some of the locals insisted that I share their bottle of wine. They also told me about the main industry in Corizal, collecting algae to sell to the Chinese and Japanese for use in cosmetics.

This was also the day that I saw the first real greenery in weeks. It might look like scrub brush to you, but after a thousand miles of desert it looked like a tropical rain forest to me!

On the 19th I decided to take another detour, along to coast to Punta Choros. I had been told it was good dirt, then a little bit of shallow sand, then dirt again. It was to go to Parque de Pinguinos de Humbolt, where I thought I could spot some penguins on the shore.

The dirt part was great. But then I hit SAND, and if there´s one thing bikers (at least this one) don´t like it is sand. This was truly deep doodoo, and on grades.

The first time the bike went down I had a hell of a time getting it back up. Fortunately there was some drunk (the only person for miles) lying under a cactus. He had tried to get me to pay for going to the beach, which I declined. I hiked back up to him and got him to help (promises of $$), and back on the road. Interestingly, he wouldn´t take any money from me for helping lift the bike.

A few hundred meters down the road, down I went again. Fell on my leg. After lying on the ground going through the routine ´leg´s not broken, arm´s not broken´ etc. I stood and This time got the bike up OK.

A few kilometers more and down she goes again. This time on my foot. Same routine, counting fingers and other extremities. I came up one short, but then I remembered that I have been one short for 30 years, so no new damage! This time I had to take all the luggage off and really struggle to get it back up. Took about an hour. Just as I was leaving that spot, about 20 yards further on, down she goes again! I just stood there and screamed OH F**K at the top of my lungs. I think they heard me in Peru (although they didn´t come to help). I eventually muscled it back up and semi-duck-walked to reach the hardpack.

All the while I kept telling myself: This doesn´t happen to me. This is my friend Oisin´s story (this stuff always happens to him) and I want out of it!

Anyway, I rode on to La Serena with a seriously sore ankle, knee, and back, where I stayed for four days, taking it easy and popping pain pills. Fortunately nothing serious.

As an aside, as I was riding into La Serena I saw this sign. I´m not sure if it was a veterinary hospital, a brothel, or simply some bad translation, but it certainly conjured up some interesting thoughts!

I also have to make a comment, and thanks, about Tonino motors in La Serena. I needed a new chain and sprockets while there. The chain was shot. I went to Tonino and he had a chain and front sprocket, but no spare rear. However, he had just gotten in two new KLR650s. He took the rear sprocket off of one and put it on my bike so I could get back on the road. This meant that his bike was out of commission. Now that´s service!

Middle Chile: Antofagasta to Caldera Dec 15-17

2008-12-17T13:21:00.002-06:00

Searching for a hotel in Antofagasta was interesting. Although it´s a major city, it was very difficult to find anything. At a stoplight I pulled up next to Robert and Shaundra Vinet, a couple of Canadians on a BMW, also looking for a place to stay. After looking together, we were able to find one room with three beds. If you think politics makes strange bedfellows, try motorcycling! Actually, they were a very nice couple and we rode south the next day.

Riding south from Antofagasta was -- are you ready? -- more desert. Then, suddenly, a few hundred meters off the road we see this, the Hand in the Desert:

It´s just there, in the middle of nowhere. Now why, you might ask, would anyone construct a giant hand in the middle of the Atacama desert. A very good question. Personally, I think it´s the mummy of a giant alien being that was improperly buried, and his hand was left sticking out of the sand. Other than that, I have no idea... but it is pretty cool!

I spent the night in Taltal, a little coastal town of no particular interest, then got off the main highway to visit the Parque Nacional Pan de Azucar (Sugar Bread National Park).

The northern entrance was a dirt road, but really pretty with many canyons and cliffs and incredible colors.

Then you arrive at the ocean, and more fantastic views. There was actually some plant life here, too, and after more than a month of nothing but sand I was thrilled to see something living. I even saw a fox cross the road, the first wildlife in a long time.

This place was so pretty I did something I haven´t done yet on this trip: I decided to camp! Although I have been carrying a tent and camping gear for months, I avoid using it like the plague. In Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru camping is neither common nor safe. However, I still much prefer a bed and a hot shower. But this time I spent the night on the beach, and enjoyed it.

A big part of the enjoyment was meeting Alberto and Ana Vargas, who were the only other campers in the area. Fortunately, Alberto is a Chilean chef, now living in Spain. We went to the next town, bought food and wine, and had a great barbeque... Alberto cooked and I poured. We all have to do what we do best!

From Pan de Azucar I went to Caldera. It was here that I finally saw a doctor about my breathing problem, and found out that there is a microscopic mite in that part of the desert that excretes a protein that many people are allergic to. This was evidently what was causing my sinus infection (damn them little buggers), and a course of antibiotics, decongestants, and antihistamine cleared it up. Unfortunately the little bastards had caused me to miss Bolivia.

San Pedro de Atacama: Great Stuff in the Middle of the Desert - Dec 10-14

2008-12-14T07:40:00.007-06:00

San Pedro de Atacama is located, as you might imagine, in the middle of the Atacama desert. More miles of desert before arriving at the town. Along the way, aside from sand, are many open-pit mines. Copper is a major income source for Chile, or at least was until the bottom dropped out of the market due to the current global economic crisis. Also, there seem to be more street dogs here than I´ve seen anywhere... which is why many people also call it San Perro de Atacama (for those who don´t speak Spanish, learn it!)

The first night I rode to the Valley of the Moon at sunset. Hundreds of like-minded people were there to watch the sunset, and we all climbed up the sand dunes for a good view. It was also at moonrise, and it was supposed to be the brightest full moon in 150 years due to the proximity of the moon to earth. As you can see, it was a bright moon, and the land is truly a surreal moonscape. I went back two nights later at 2 am with a group from my hostel after a very successful ¨wine tasting¨ (lots of wine, not much taste), but that´s another story :)

The next day I rode to LagoChaxa, the the flamingo preserve. Pink, white, grey... seems they´ve preserved all kinds of flamingos (if you´ve never had flamingo preserves on toast... oh, forget it). This lake is actually in the middle of a large salt flat, miles and miles of table condiment in which the brine shrimp that the flamingos feed on grow.

The following late afternoon, after all the tourists busses had gone, I rode out to Lago Cejar. I had been warned that it was very hard to find the lake, as there are only a couple of tracks through the desert and no road signs. This was very true, but it was hard-packed desert and I had a lot of fun dirt riding through it. Finally arrived at the lake, paid my entrance fee (it might be the middle of absolutely nowhere, but they manage to put up a hut to collect money), and had to rip off my clothes to take a short swim. This is a very salt-laden lake, so you´re supposed to float very well. Also, since it´s in the middle of the desert, I assumed it would be warm. Wrong! I really don´t know how well I would have floated. It was a quick in-freeze-out, then rinse and get dressed. The desert really gets cold and night. On the way back I had another fun ride, despite the fact that couldn´t find the trails. Fortunately, GPS worked fine and I just kept heading in the direction of the town for the planned wine tasting referred to above. No further details to be provided.

On my last day in SP I rode to a set of thermal springs for a swim. Not as hot as I would have liked, but a relaxing day.

Chile... Arica & Iquique to San Pedro de Atacama- Dec 5 - 11

2008-12-10T16:06:00.003-06:00

Desert. Desert. Desert.

At last I had reached Chile, and the end of the Peruvian desert. Only to find (actually no surprise) that now I was REALLY starting the vast Atacama desert of Chile.

Sand and wind were to be my constant companions for at least a couple of weeks more!

On occasion I did get the company of a friendly ¨dust devil¨. Other than that, the only things in this part of the desert are open-pit mines... mostly copper.

This part of Chile does not attract many tourists. Can you imagine why? I spent a few days in Arica, mostly doing errands, then headed to Iquique to visit some people I had met in Peru and then head down the coast. Iquique is surprising... it´s literally at the end of the road in the desert, but is actually quite pretty. It was built for mining, and there are many old 1800´s buildings still standing.

The coast is pretty, in a very rugged sort of way, with the desert leading right down to the water.

Also at this point my helmet busted. I was upset because it is so comfortable, but what can you do? I gave it to my friend´s son Noah, who immediately decided that he wants to be a motorcycle rider when he grows up. I understand that he now sleeps in it! Noah, we´ll look for you in the next Dakar race.

Leaving Iquique I headed down the coast, and then across a few hundred more miles of desert to San Pedro de Atacama. Even though it was more sand, some of the colors coming into San Pedro at sunset were spectacular.

Arequipa: Last Stop in Peru - Dec 2 - 4

2008-12-04T15:52:00.000-06:00

Arequipa is a pretty colonial town (are we seeing a pattern here?). It was a few days to unwind and take care of errands. Also a good chance to eat, as it has an abundance of good (and ethnic) restaurants.

One of the more interesting things, however, was visiting ¨Juanita¨. Juanita was an Incan girl sacrificed to the mountain gods about 5o0 years ago. She was found frozen by some arqueologists a few years ago, and they have built an incredible museum dedicated to the find. At the end is Juanita herself... still frozen in the ice, but now in a glass freezer.

Arequipa was my last stop in Peru. Since Bolivia had been scratched, it was now on to CHILE.

Plans Change: Scratch Bolivia; Sillustani to Arequipa - Dec 1

2008-12-01T17:10:00.000-06:00

I was planning on going to La Paz, Bolivia, and then on to cross the Uyuni Salt flats into Peru. Mo and I had talked about doing this together since riding across the Uyuni alone is not considered to be a particularly bright thing to do. Unfortunately, Mo was probably partying somewhere and couldn´t find his typing finger: I hadn´t heard from him for more than a week, so had been having some concerns about riding this particular stretch alone.

But when I woke up in the morning health took the decision out of my hands. I was having a lot of trouble breathing. Remember, I was at more than 12,000 feet altitude and there is about 40% less oxygen there. I was feeling panicky from lack of air and felt like I just had to get to a lower altitude... FAST. La Paz is even higher than Puno, so that wasn´t going to do it. I had also wanted to see Arequipa, so there was some consolation to the sudden change of plans.

Aside - Fast Forward on Health: I found out a few weeks later (yes, this continued at lower altitude) that the problem wasn´t lack of oxygen. A local doctor in Caldera, Chile, examined me and found that I had a sinus infection. My nasal passages were so swollen I couln´t breath. It was probably an alergic reaction to some things in the desert, and antibiotics, decongestants, and antihistamines cleared it right up.

After leaving Puno I stopped at the town of Sullistani. The homes around here are different than other parts of Peru.. very interesting. Made of rock instead of adobe, and generally round. Lots of llamas outside.

Many had a special place for raising cuy... roasted guinea pig. Looks real cozy until you realize their ultimate destiny.

After the village I visited the pre-Incan funeral towers that make the place famous. These people were incredible engineers. They formed the blocks in such a way that they have withstood centuries of earthquakes. The blocks are even different sizes so that they won´t set up a harmonic vibration... ingenious!

Leaving Sillustani, back in the village, I came across a parade. Lots of local color, and men parading around as bulls. Everyone was very enthusiastic until the heavy rains started.

The ride from Silustani was again across the Altiplano, mostly at 13,000 to 16,000 feet. It was barren, lots of llamas and vicunas, and COLD! Just to make sure I wouldn´t be too comfortable, someone threw in some high winds and rain. It was the first time on the trip that I had to break out the electric jacket and gloves, and was I ever glad I had them!

Finally arrived at Arequipa, the second largest city in Peru, fought the traffic, found a hotel, a HOT shower, and had a great Turkish dinner. Go figure!

Puno: On the Shores of Lake Titicaca - Nov 27-30

2008-11-30T17:59:00.000-06:00

The town of Puno isn´t all that interesting, but there are interesting things to see in the area. We took a tour to Uros, a series of floating islands. Actually, they are bunches of reeds that the people build houses on.

They also make boats from the reeds. They last about three months, and then rot... leaving all the tourists in the middle of the lake to be eaten by piranahs.

We also went to Taquille island. This is supposed to be a very traditional culture, still using the traditional clothing. Unfortunately, we had a crappy guide who hurried us up the hill from one side of the island and back down the other side. It felt like the Bataan Death March, especially since we were doing this forced march at 12,000 feet altitude! It really was a shame, because we met other people who raved about the tour. The guide really can make all the difference.

Saturday there was a great local market in Puno. It stretched on for miles, and you really could buy just about anything. I settled for some rubber glue for my tire patch kit. Very exotic!

Then we visited the boat ¨Yavari¨. This was an old steamer brought in pieces to Lake Titicaca in 1870. It took them 6 years to haul it up the mountain on the backs of donkeys and re-assemble it! It is now being restored by an English woman who bought it as scrap for $3000.

That night we had drinks with Sylvia Owen, the dermatologist I had met on the road from Cuenca to Loja, Ecuador. After a few mishaps, she had decided to ship her bike back to Montana and do some traveling by more ¨civilized¨ means. It was nice to catch up.

On Sunday, November 30, we left Puno, kind of. Karen was flying back to Panama, and I still had my bike in Cuzco. So we flew together to Cuzco, and she continued on (same flight) to Lima to catch her flight to Panama. I went to my hotel, packed up the bike, and rode back to Puno. I was planning on then riding to La Paz, Bolivia, but as you will soon see those plans changed.

I was not looking forward to the ride from Cuzco to Puno. After all, I had just done it by train a few days before. Wrong! Of course, it was a totally different trip on the bike. I saw much more, and from a totally different perspective. The altiplano is incredible.

Llamas I expected... and saw. Sheep did not surprise me. But I really had to stop a few times to watch flocks of flamingos in the river. That I was not expecting!

This old man was tending his sheep and let me cross his land to get to the river where the flamingos were. He was facinated by my motorcycle.

I stayed at a decent hotel (Hotel Monterrey) in the middle of the pedestrian mall in Puno. For you bikers reading this, I highly recommend it. The staff, especially Fidel, was great about helping me lay down boards over the stairs so that we could park the bike safely inside. Since I hadn´t been able to find anything else in Puno with parking, this was particularly appreciated.

Tomorrow, plans for Bolivia... but plans change!

The Train to Puno: Piscos on the Orient Express - Nov 26

2008-11-26T16:43:00.000-06:00

The train from Cuzco to Puno was, in so many ways, a ¨trip¨. Unlike the train to Machu Pichu, which is pretty utilitarian, the Puno train is deluxe. In fact, it is an old Orient Express train that they refurbished for this trip. Mahogany paneling, brass lamps, linen tablecloths... the works.

There is also an observation car on the back, and as we rambled down the tracks many villagers waved and shouted greetings. Then again, most of them spoke Quechua or Aymara, so they could also have been yelling ¨get the hell out of our back yards, Gringos¨. And I don´t really understand the universal hand signals they greeted us with. Fortunately, they were also smiling, so I think the natives really were friendly.

Peru Rail tried to keep us entertained during the 10 hour trip, with various local bands, fashion shows, and even a class in how to make the perfect Pisco Sour. After the demo, they asked for a volunteer to try to make one. Of course, yours truly was the first to jump up and volunteer. I figured that at the vary least I was going to get a free drink out of this (ever the economiser). Of course, my Pisco Sour was perfect... they didn´t know about my many years working as a bartender!

There was one stop along the way, at about 14,000 feet, for the entertainment to change and the natives given a chance to earn some shekels. Little did they realize that Karen had honed her bargaining skills in Asia... and nobody bargains like the Chinese! Once she figured out what she wanted, she just waited until we were being literally shoved back onto the train (knowing there wouldn´t be another tourist along for three days) and then gave them her final price. She got the best deal on the train!

The ¨Lost City¨ of Machu Pichu - Nov 25

2008-11-25T17:16:00.015-06:00

Machu Pichu. I was here a few years ago on my way to a project in Chile, but it was Karen´s first time. For both of us it was facinating.

But first you had to take a bus from Aguas Calientes that hugs the mountain through some of the tightest switch-backs ever seen. As previously stated, yours truly truly doesn´t like heights, and made Karen sit on the down-hill side of the bus!

Machu Pichu itself was an Incan city, re-discovered in the early 1900s. It is an architechtural and engineering marvel, and they had to carry stones up the mountains from many miles away. We had fantastic weather, and fabulous views. We were also lucky to find an excellent guide.

This is the ¨classic¨ picture of Machu Pichu, although many of the guide books (for some unknown reason) don´t include Karen and me. Poor planning on their part, undoubtedly.

The Incans were pretty clever. Even their method of building steps on the terraces used for agriculture was interesting... rocks built as outcroppings from the walls

The setting was some of the most spectacular in the world. Although this was the rainy season there, we had picture perfect weather to appreciate the incredible scenery. Imagine having to haul rocks through these mountains to build the city! Truly impressive.

Next to Machu Pichu is the mountain of Huaina Pichu. This was also built on. Tourists now line up for the privilege of climbing it. Only about 400 a day are permitted, so they are there VERY early in the morning to get a ticket. Needless to say, we decided to pass on this particular spiritual quest. I´m blaming it on my artificial knee... that´s my story and I´m sticking to it!

After the day visiting Machu Pichu, we took the train back to Cuzco. Tomorrow we hop aboard another train to visit Puno on Lake Titicaca.

Cuzco and Ollantaytambo: On the Way to Machu Pichu - Nov 20 - 24

2008-11-24T16:19:00.002-06:00

Cuzco, the Sacred Valley, and Machu Pichu are all about OLD stuff (totally appropriate for my South-At-Sixty tour). The history of the area ranges from pre-Inca, through the apex of Incan culture, through the Spanish colonialists.

Jeff, the owner of the Norton Rat bar (a biker hangout) had made arrangements for us to get a hotel where we could leave the bike while we went exploring outside of Cuzco... Thanks Jeff! For me it was the most expensive hotel so far on the trip. Fraser (who I rode up with... see the last post) also got a room there, but for him it was the cheapest hotel he had stayed with in his several months on the road. Just goes to show you... different perspectives!

A note from the Small World Department: At one point I walked into McDonalds on the Plaza de Armas. I went in to use the restroom... I swear I was NOT having a Big Mac Attack! Anyway, I walk out of the loo and hear a male voice calling ¨Hey, Steve¨. Now you might find this kind of hard to believe, but I´m not that well known in Peru, much less in Cuzco. Anyway, it was another biker, Mo from England, who I had had lunch with in Panama two months before. He had left Panama a month before me, but there we were in Micky D´s. Since Karen had not arrived yet, it was a good excuse to have many beers together and catch up.

Karen arrived on the 22nd, after spending a night in Lima at my friend Jim´s (the same one who got me to walk off the edge of a cliff holding onto a kite. Thanks again, Jim). We spent a few days exploring Cuzco, a facinating colonial city. As always, Karen met a facinating new friend in the marketplace!

I also got to meet up with the daughter of an old friend from high school, Jean Weiss´ daughter Samantha, who happened to be in Cuzco. Another note from the Small World Department. Sam was, I assure you, much better looking than Karen´s new friend.

Karen also decided that Cuzco was the perfect place to shop for a few new pets: One llama and one small Peruvian named John. Unfortunately, we found out that only one of them is house broken, and since they only come as a pair we decided not to bring them back to Panama.

We then took a bus to Ollantaytambo, where we would catch the train to Machu Pichu. We wanted to be in Machu Pichu in the morning, before the train full of tourists arrived about 9:30, which meant getting there (the town of Aguas Calientes) in the afternoon. There is only a train from Ollantaytambo in the afternoon, nothing from Cuzco. I had been to Machu Pichu a couple of years ago and had arrived with the hords. I highly recommend finding a way to do it in the morning.

Ollantaytambo turned out to be facinating. It´s an old Incan town, and still retains many of the original streets and buildings, only slightly modified to suit modern needs. Many of the doors are Incan originals. Some of the tourists (not US of course) also appear to be from the Incan days.

One of the highlights of Oyantaytambo was a visit to a family´s house to sample the chicha they make. This is a type of beer made from corn. Karen, of course, sampled her fair share. I, of course, had to keep up.

The family also raises cuy, a local delicacy. This is actually guinea pig, and there were about a hundred of them running around the house! I´ve never actually sampled this. There´s this whole pet thing that I can´t get over. They also leave a lot of little pellets in the living room!

The family´s method of storing food was interesting, if a bit primitive. I´m now thinking of throwing away the refrigerator... who needs it!

Karen also made a new boy friend. His name is also John, and I think he was ready to propose marriage... or something equally illicit. He made it quite clear when I tried to take a picture with him that he really prefers blondes!

At about 4:00 we got on the train (actually, it´s more like a trolley car) for Aguas Caliente. We spent the night there, then up the hill to Machu Pichu.

The Altiplano: Nazca to Cuzco - Nov 18

2008-11-18T13:57:00.002-06:00

We planned on leaving Nazca at 5:00 to see if we could reach Cuzco in a day. I was going to go with Doruk and Patricia, the Turkish/Peruvian couple staying at my hotel and riding the Chinese bike with the disappearing parts. It seemed like a good plan... after all the man at the hotel said it was light by then. Of course, I don´t think he was ever actually awake (or sober) at that hour, so why did we believe him? We finally got going at 7:30 when it was light, and pretty much had no chance of making Cuzco in a day.

I had read that the road from Nazca to Cuzco was one of the best motorcycle rides in South America, so I was really looking forward to it. It was a great ride... after the first 100 miles of pure crap and construction. It took us almost 5 hours to do the first 100 miles. We were told that the road was closed on the way to Puquio, but fortunately we were able to get through. We had enough delays without that.

THEN the road did get good. In fact it became fantastic. From Puquio we started climbing, and climbing, up to the altiplano (high plains) at more than 15,000 feet. This picture is some of the scenery in the lower altiplano... where there are still trees. Eventually these give out and there is nothing more than some small scrub and grass.

We passed through one of the national reserves at 15,000 feet, land only suited for llamas, alpacas, and vicunas. We saw herds of vicunas, and had to keep a sharp eye out to keep from hitting them in the road.

Between the very high altitude and lack of sleep, at one point I was feeling VERY tired. It was becoming impossible to concentrate on the road, and I know that at that time I have to stop for a while. I told Doruk I needed a 10 minute nap. He said he wasn´t tired and would just sit and wait for me. We pulled off the road and laid down on the dirt. Within about 2 minutes all three of us were sound asleep. Patricia woke first (after about 45 minutes) and said that cars -- the few that there were -- were honking because they thought we were dead at the side of the road! At that altitude there is about 40% less oxygen, and it really takes it out of you. My bike also feels the altitude.

At about 5:30 we stopped for gas and I decided to stay the night in Chalhuanca. Doruk and Patricia went on, as she wanted to visit her ex maid in the next city. I had no interest, and didn´t want to be driving in the mountains after dark.

The next day was more beautiful scenery. While the altiplano can really appear (and often is) bleak and barren, it can also be absolutely spectacular.

At one point I was pulled over on the side of the road having a drink and another motorcycle went by. He turned around and came back to say hello, and it turned out it was Fraser, a Brit I had been corresponding with by email, but had never met. Small world. We rode on to Cuzco together and spent the next two days together while I waited for Karen to arrive.

Nazca... Strange Lines in the Sand, and Mummies - Nov 18

2008-11-18T13:35:00.010-06:00

My last stop in the lowlands before heading up through the altiplano (high plains) was Nazca, famous for geometric lines and figure drawings in the desert. Nobody really knows who or why these were created, and theories range from pre-historic civilizations practicing religious rituals to alien beings who left landing instructions and pictures of things they saw.

I took a short (too short... half hour) flight to see for myself, and still have no idea. I am, however, leaning towards the aliens and I think that that is why the Men in Black (posing as Secret Service) were in Pisco.

However, you decide for yourself.

Outside of Nazca, I went with a biker couple from Lima and Luz, a woman from Santiago who was on the plane with me, to visit the pre-Incan tombs at Chauchilla. This was about a 20 mile ride on pavement, followed by a 5 mile jaunt through the desert sands. I had no trouble with the sand, but the couple from Lima were on a little Chinese made bike and pieces kept falling off into the desert. Quality Pays!

The tombs themselves were dug into the ground, the inhabitants mumified, and were well preserved due to the absolute lack of humidity.

Next stop, high into the Andes to visit Cuzco, Machu Pichu, and Lake Titicaca.

Pisco, Isla Ballestra, and the Sand Dunes at Huacachina - Nov 13 - 16

2008-11-16T12:56:00.000-06:00

Pisco, Land of Liquor and Critters

Pisco, while famous for the liquor of the same name, is presently not a very interesting place. One of the main reasons is that they had a 7.9 earthquake last year, and much of the city was destroyed. Fortunately, there is still enough pisco (the liquor, not the city) left for a few million pisco sours. I´m trying my best to reduce that amount significantly as I travel through the rest of South America.

The week after I was in Pisco was to be the APEC meeting in Lima. Laura Bush was supposed to make a trip to Pisco, so from time to time I would see a strange guy in a dark suit and sunglasses (even at night) with an earphone. It was either the Secret Service, or Men in Black. I´m not sure which, but then again I´m not sure there really is much difference between the two. In any event, I felt quite safe... both from George W. and any other alien beings that might have been in town.

Pisco is also the jumping off place for Isla Ballestras. This is a ¨mini Glapagos¨ according to the tour operators. While that is typical tour hype, it is a good place for seeing (by boat) a significant sea lion and bird rookery.

The sea lions seemed to have been warned of our coming... or else they can tell time since all the tourist boats come at the same time. Several hundred came out to welcome us.

The pelicans also choose this area as a breeding ground, and there must be a million there.

Unfortunately for the pelicans, but fortunately for us, they must share these rocks with their mis-placed cousins from Antarctica... the penguins. Penguins near the equator, you ask, you must be kidding.

But nay, I´ve encountered these little guys before while diving in the Galapagos. I can hardly wait to meet their big cousins in Patagonia.

From Sea Lions to Sand Dunes... on to Huacachina

From Pisco I kept on through the desert to Huacachina, a true oasis. There is a small lake fed by underground springs, that creates this oasis among some of the highest sand dunes in the world (500 meters / 1600 feet).

There seem to be two major sports in Huacachina. One took place nightly in my hostel and involved salubrious amounts of Pisco. The hotel had a nightly BBQ for about $6, which included food and an unlimited quantity of Cuba Libres or Pisco Sours. For the backpacking kids traveling on a budget this was the equivalent of a Michelin 5 star experience, if they could remember it in the morning.

The other sport was sandboarding, like snowboarding but warmer.

Lima: Flying High...On A Kite 11/10/08

2008-11-13T19:08:00.000-06:00

OK, so sometimes I just have to do it... whatever "it" is. So there I was in Lima, staying with my friend Jim Sanford. I met Jim in Canoa, Ecuador and he invited me to stay with him. He has a beautiful apartment right on the water. He also likes to fly paragliders... basically a big kite that you hang from and jump off a cliff. Fortunately (for Jim) he can do this off the cliff right in front of his apartment. It being a beautiful Sunday in Lima, we walked along the park and watched all the paragliders sailing through the sky.

Now you have to understand, yours truly is Afraid of Heights. Like, seriously freaked. But that bothers me, so sometimes I just have to do stuff to get over it. Like, yesterday, hanging from a kite 600 feet off the ground. This is not something one does alone when one (certainly not this one) doesn't know what they are doing. You go in tandem with a supposedly seasoned professional. So, after a bit (ok, much) convincing by Jim I just had to give it a try. Here are the results:

First, the takeoff. It's easy: You just hang this kite off your back and walk off a 300 foot cliff. (Then you brown your shorts)

Then you sail all over the cliffs and the ocean. You also try REALLY hard to avoid the buildings. My pilot happened to like the updrafts from the buildings, so we did a lot of really close inspection of many of Lima's finer apartments for sale... generally through the 20th floor windows. These guys can go forever with the right wind, but I was only up for about 20 minutes (although it seemed like much longer).

Landing, of course, is another matter. You just hold on and hope to hell you don't go over the

edge!

Finally, we made it back to earth and I could breathe again. Marco, my pilot, was back up with another tourist two minutes later.

Did I get over my fear of heights... Nah! But can't let that keep me on the ground.

The rest of my Lima visit was somewhat anticlimactic, although Jim and I had a great time. I also got a lot of work done on the bike, along with some new tires to get me through the next stretch of the trip. But enough of the big city, time to get back into the desert!

Trujillo: Colonial Town, Ruins, Sand, Colombians and Hairless Dogs - Nov 6

2008-11-06T19:12:00.001-06:00

From Chiclayo I went for hours across more desert. Instead of staying in Trujillo the first night, I followed the Lonely Planet´s advice (easy to take with a grain of sand here in the desert) and headed for nearby Huanchaco at the beach. Why wasn´t I surprised when the weather turned cold and windy. The town was pretty much deserted, so the next day I rode on to Trujillo proper.

Trujillo is another old colonial city, but this time there were some really interesting color patterns thrown into the already very interesting architecture. All in all, it´s a very pretty city.

The next day I rode out to visit Chan Chan, another old pre-Inca city. This one is different than most, in that it was build entirely of adobe (mud and straw), while the other ruins I had seen were stone. It is a huge complex, which they are working to resore.

Meet the Colombians

At Chan Chan I was approached by three Colombian guys and a Peruvian who asked me about my bike and my trip. Turned out the Colombians were also heading for Tierra del Fuego on motorcycles. Unfortunately, one of them had had one of his bags come open on the desert detour from Chiclayo and had lost all of his documents (passport, bike registration, etc.). As it turned out, he wasn´t able to get them replaced in Lima and had to go back to Colombia. The others went on, but we lost contact. Asi es la vida.

We spent the day and evening together and had a great time. We went over to the Peruvian´s (Talo) house, ate, and played around on his 4 wheel ATVs. Turns out his kids (ages 4 and 6) are absolute hotshots on these things. Yours truly, however, was not. But it was fun. You can never have too many toys!

Bald Puppies

Also at Chan Chan I met my first Peruvian hairless dogs. This is not a joke. These dogs are bald as a billiard ball. Friendly, intelligent, but ugly as sin. Kind of feels like petting a piece of leather, or cuddling up with an old football. It has been suggested that this breed would be the perfect First Puppy for Obama´s family since his daughter is alergic and they are hypoalergenic. But did I mention UGLY?

Next, on to Lima.

Chiclayo, Desert Odyssy, and Cops: November 4 - 5

2008-11-06T12:40:00.006-06:00

Living in Panama has given me a real appreciation for quality driving. Panamanians are wonderful, friendly people until they get behind the wheel. Then they turn into complete maniacs who will do anything to get 5 feet ahead. But compared to the drivers in Peru they are absolutely fantastic! In other words, Peruvian drivers make the Panamanians seem like Canadians (¨You go, eh.¨ ¨No please, you go first.¨ ¨No please, after you, eh.¨) . The Chiclayo drivers are some of the worst in Peru, and arriving in Chiclayo was a bit of a nightmare, but eventually I found a hotel in my price range that had parking. This is always a major consideration for me, and is often difficult especially in city centers.

The major attraction of Chiclayo was actually in the adjacent town of Lambayeque: The museum of the Lord of Sipan. This was a series of tombs from the Moche culture that were found in 1987, and had not been raided. The tombs contained both the bodies of the Lord of Sipan, and those who were ¨volunteered¨ to accompany him into the next life, as well as many objects of ceramic, gold, and jewels. It´s Peru´s version of finding King Tut´s tomb, and every bit as impressive.

Odyssy in the Desert

Leaving Chiclayo on the Panamericana, I soon came to a roadblock and was told that the bridge was out. I would have to take a detour through the desert. You have to realize that I had now hit the vast expanse of Peruvian desert that I would deal with for the next few weeks. All of Peru´s coastal area is sand... lots and lots of sand. And it extends from Chiclayo all the way to Chile! Miles and miles (and more miles) of empty sand!

Finding the detour was tough enough. Of course there are no signs, you just keep asking enough people and eventually you find the detour. And then begins a dirt/sand track of about 25 miles through the desert. It would have been tough enough given the ¨road¨, but the trucks made it a nightmare. Basically, because of the trucks in front of you visibility was about 10 feet. Couldn´t see, couldn´t pass, and couldn´t breathe! By the time I came to actual pavement (more than an hour later) I looked like I had been dropped in a vat of talcum powder. Then it was a few more hours of more desert to get to Trujillo.

As an aside, a few weeks later I met a couple of Brits who had come to the same roadblock. A couple of kids told them that they could get past the bridge if they rode their bikes down the stairs and back up the other side of the dry river bed. They tipped the kids a buck and that´s just what they did. Boy, was I pissed when I heard that! But then, of course, I would have missed out on a good story. And more desert scenery, which actually was in some ways spectacular (although I did get my fill of it.... but I still have the entire Atacama desert in Chile to ride through).

A Note on Cops

I had been warned (common knowledge among bikers who read the web sites) that the cops north of Lima were the most corrupt in the country. Up to this point I had had nothing but good experiences with police in Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru. I was frequently stopped at police check points (and just as frequently waved through), but usually the police were just bored, curious, and pretty friendly. The questions were always the same: Where are your from? Where are you going? How big is the motor? How much does your bike cost?

These guys even wanted their pictures taken with me. It also doesn´t hurt if I tell them I used to be a cop.

I have only had one experience on this trip with a cop actually trying to get a bribe from me. The conversation went something like this (and by the way, I wasn´t speeding... I knew that the cop was there and was following a truck doing exactly 60 kph):

Cop: You were speeding
Me: No I wasn´t. I was doing 60 kph just like the truck in front of me
Cop: The speed limit is 45
Me: No it´s not, I just saw the sign and it says 60
Cop: There´s another sign that says 45 over there
Me: That may be, but you had a big truck pulled over there blocking the sign
Cop: I can confiscate your license until you pay the fine
Me: That´s fine, but I wasn´t going any faster than allowed
Cop: Well, give me some gas and I´ll let you go
Me: I can´t, I only have enough gas to get to Trujillo
Cop: There´s a gas station down the road. You can get more there.
Me: I don´t have any more money. I need to go to an ATM in Trujillo
Cop: Get the hell out of here.

It´s a game. Kind of like bargaining with the vendors. Most of the cops have been great, but occasionally you have to play the game with them. so far I´m up on points. Let´s hope it stays that way.

Next stop, Trujillo.

Northern Peru and the Amazonas Province - Nov 1 - 3

2008-11-04T12:05:00.002-06:00

Well, I´ve been on the road now for seven weeks, but only 3200 miles. That´s what happens when you take it slow and try to experience the countries... not just get through them. Just like I planned. I´ve met several bikers who are doing a similar trip much faster, and I don´t envy them. Getting to know the people and places is definitely the way to do it.

On November 1 I entered the Amazonas province of Peru. This isn´t really the jungle part of Peru, but leads to it. The conditions pretty much sucked... more rain, road construction, and a lot of mud. Eventually I arrived in Chachapoyas, in the mountains.

Chachapoyas is (another) pretty little colonial village, but with a lot of pre-Incan history. On Sunday I took a tour to Kargia to see the sarcophagi (burial sites) left by the Chacha people before the Incan invasion. The tour consisted of yours truly, a Japanese guy who didn´t speak much Spanish, our guide, and the taxi driver. It was about a two hour car ride to the site, and given the steep road, dirt, and an abundant amount of mud I was glad I wasn´t on the bike. Anyway, the tour only cost eight bucks... well worth it for not having to deal with the terrain.

After we arrived at the nearest village we had to hike a couple of kilometers to the site itself. Steep and muddy, just like the road.

While we were struggling and slipping through the slime a local family passed us by. I don´t know if they have claws on their feet, or just suction cups, but they certainly passed us like we were standing still.

Finally we got to the burial site itself. In many ways it reminded me of the Toraja burial sites on the island of Sulawesi in Indonesia that Karen and I had visited. The Chacha buried their people high up in the cliffs. Anthropoligists theorize that they must have lowered themselves down from the top of the mountain. Then they placed the bodies (at least of the rich people) in elaborate anthropomorphic sarcophagi. The poor (of course) were buried in much more modest graves.

These sarcophagi are about 9 feet tall.

The next day I decided I had enough of the rain and mud and took off for what I hoped would be a bit better climate in Chiclayo. I had to leave Chachapoya early because they closed the road at 7:30 am for construction and didn´t open it again until 4:30 pm. So it was an early start in the rain and the mud, a quick stop for breakfast after the road-block site, and finally some good road and weather when I got to Jaen. What a pleasure... dry pavement all the way to Chiclayo!

Goodby Ecuador, Hello Peru - October 31

2008-10-31T12:17:00.000-06:00

My favorite poem, and what I think has always been my philosophy of life, is Robert Frost´s ¨A Road Less Traveled¨. And that´s what I decided to do to get from Ecuador to Peru. Not necessarily smart, but definitely more interesting.

Most people cross the border at Macaras, but I decided to take a 200km dirt road from Vilcabamba to Las Balzas.

It wasn´t a bad day, but definitely the physically hardest riding I had done. 200km of winding, steep, dirt with a couple of streams and mud stretches thrown in for good luck. Oh yeah, and did I mention the fog?

During the 9 or 10 hours it took me to get to Peru I think I saw about 5 other vehicles. This was definitely the middle of nowhere. But the scenery was spectacular

Finally I arrived at the Peruvian border. For those of you used to crossing into Mexico or Canada, this is not like those border crossings. First of all, there is nothing there. A couple of huts, and that´s it.

On the Ecuadorian side, I had to wait for the customs officer to come back from Peru, where he had gone for lunch. OK, it´s just across the bridge, but it sounded a bit strange to me.

Now, the border crossing itself is interesting.

First, you have to realize that I had just ridden in on what was essentially a narrow, dirt cowpath (in the background of the picture above). On the other side of the border, into Peru, was an equivalent piece-of-crap road. But joining these two, at the border itself, was a beautiful, two-lane paved highway that must have stretched for all of 200 feet! Some government official must definitely have a brother in the bridge construction business!

I asked one of the people at the border why they had built this miracle of modern engineering to join these two horse trails. The answer: ¨Maybe for when they pave the roads.... like in 50 years!

The Peruvian side of the border was equally impressive. It took a while to go through immigration because the immigration official had gone home to take a shower. Since I needed to get to the next town with a hotel before dark, I was forced (with the help of a local guy who was obviously guarding the bridge) to roust him from his shower to come and stamp my passport.

I finally made it to San Ignacio where I spent the night. Paved road in the morning... something to look forward to!

Vilcabamba: Last Stop in Ecuador - Oct 28 to 31

2008-10-30T11:53:00.001-06:00

Leaving Cuenca was a pleasure... at first. About an hour of nice flat paved road. And then, of course, it all turned to crap . Construction, mud, wet roads, and fog.

Are you seeing a pattern here? Welcome to South America.

At one construction site I stopped and imagine my surprise to see a clone of my bike... same model, same color, same panniers: A true twin. Now, most of us doing the South American loop on a motorcycle tend to have something of an idea about who else is on the road through various web sites. We use these to give and get information, and meet up with other riders. So I was somewhat shocked to see a tall gringo woman that I hadn´t heard about standing next to the bike.

Sylvia Owen is a dermatologist from Montana, and had left Montana at about the same time I left Panama, so she was really hauling! When the construction site opened and they motioned us to continue, on we rode. Unfortunately, they had jumped the gun a bit and there was a string of dump trucks backing up on the one- lane road. We pulled over, a ditch and cliff to our right and trucks to our left, to let them pass (missing by inches). It was fine for the trucks, but then came a flatbed loaded with a bulldozer.

This caught Sylvia´s bike and I could hear her screaming in fear that she was going to be pulled under the truck. I was stuck and couldn´t do anything but blast my horn until finally the truck stopped after dragging her about 10 feet. Needless to say, she was more than a bit shaken. I persuaded her to come with me to Vilcabamba to ¨decompress¨, and on we rode.

Vilcabamba is a small village noted for the longevity of it´s people. It is a beautiful, tranquil place in the mountains. The hotel (Hotel Izhcayluma) was excellent, and the German owner Peter does a great job. I´m not a super fan of German food, but in this case the fare was excellent.

We also met Joseph and Doro, a German couple driving the most outrageous vehicle I have seen. Their ¨camper¨ was obviously made by the same company that made Rommel´s tanks, and they had driven it around the world for the last three years. I ran into them again in Peru... it´s hard to miss this thing.

Sylvia left after a day, and I stayed on. I´m getting really good at decompressing... not easy for what Karen calls a super-type-A personality. Oh well, I´m trainable, although I did have a bit of bike repair to keep me busy.

Cuenca: A Real Gem - October 24 - 28

2008-10-28T08:55:00.001-06:00

Guayaquil failed to impress me (big, dirty, uninteresting), and so I left after a day there. The ride to Cuenca was a particularly tough one; OK, it was a holy bitch! After the first hour I headed into the mountains and the road got BAD. As I hit the cloud level it was foggy and wet, slippery mud, with visibility about 10 feet. I was able to average about 15-20 mph. At one point traffic was stopped for about an hour waiting for a construction site to be cleared, but we were all entertained by watching the boulders roll down the hill from where they were working up above. The word of the day was ¨DUCK¨. Then of course they had to clear the road.

The road kept climbing for hours, eventually reaching a pass of more than 13,000 feet. For those of you not used to driving at this altitude, engines need oxygen to work... and there isn't much there. The bike loses a lot of power at that altitude. It was COLD! In might be near the equator, but altitude trumps latitude every time.

I finally started back down the hill and into the Parque El Caja s (more on that later) and the scenery was spectacular.

Eventually -- cold, tired, and more than a little dirty -- I reached Cuenca.

Cuenca is a very nice colonial city of about a half million people. The central area has many beautiful old buildings, along with the obligatory dozens of cathedrals.

Part of what made Cuenca fun was the group of "kids" (aren't they all these days) that I met: Sandra (German), Markus (German) and Robin (Belgian).

Sandra and I went hiking in Parque Nacional El Cajas, an area I had ridden over on my way to Cuenca. Hiking at that altitude isn´t easy ( actually, it´s fine if you don´t need to breathe), but the scenery is incredible.

There's an old village in the park that use to be a way-station for travelers going from Guayaquil to Cuenca 150 years ago when the trip took about a month. Now it's maintained as a kind of museum, although we couldn't get in until we found a caretaker with a key.

Part of the village is underground... this was also a silver and gold mine. One of the more interesting rooms was the bathroom. An odd assortment of skeletons, stuffed snakes, and even a toilet!

Sunday, I went with the ¨kids¨ to the market at Gualaceo. This is a small town about an hour by bus (and 60 cents in cost) from Cuenca. A typical local market, but I always find these interesting.

The highlight was going to lunch in the municipal market building. There were different section s for different types of food. We opted for the roast pig, and I´ll tell you that for $2 we feasted. Crispy skin, tender meat, and appropriate accompaniments. Mmmmm.

And I was even told that it was guaranteed kosher (I think that´s what they said. Although it could be that ¨quosheir¨ means something completely different in Quechua... like maybe ¨taking dirty money and pulling pork with the same hand gives the meat better flavor¨, or something like that.

The next day we went to Baños, not the famous one, but a village near Cuenca. While we weren´t impressed at first with the facilities (just looked like a swimming pool, with some steam rooms up above), it turned out to be a great day. We sat around in the hot pool while it pissed rain all afternoon. Met some very interesting local people who always come on Mondays. Why Monday? Because they clean the pool on Sunday night. Good reason! There was also a fun group of Ecuadorians in the steam room. About 12 raucus, middle-aged businessmen who also come every Monday and spend the afternoon sweating and drinking. Sandra was excluded (men only steam room), but Markus, Robin, and I had a good sweat and a great time. No pictures permitted!

Quito to Guayaquil: The Ecuadorian Coast - Oct 22, 23

2008-10-23T08:36:00.004-05:00

From Quito I headed to the coast. Tired of rain and cold, it was time for SUN, and a nice warm beach. Unfortunately I hadn't read the weather reports... what is (mistakenly) called the Ruta del Sol (Route of the Sun) was anything but. More like the Ruta de No Hay Ningun Sol Por Ningun Parte (Route where there ain´t no sun nowhere)

The road over the mountains was pure fog. Visibility, oh maybe 10 feet. Mudslides about every 6 cm, and did I mention the rain? Not fun, but after a day and a half I arrived in Canoa.

Canoa is a little beach town that was actually quite nice despite the weather. Not many people, but the ones who were there were a very friendly bunch. All the hotel / pub / restaurant owners seemed to go out of their way to make you feel at home. The kind of place where the publican comes over and invites you to sit down with him for a brewski. Kind of a Gringo/Ecuadorian version of Cheers.

Despite the overabundance of traffic (as you can see), it was a nice, tranquil place.

Getting south from Canoa involved a ferry ride from San Vicente to Bahia. The ferry "terminal" simply didn't exist. Just a drive on the beach, a wait for the ferry (an old landing craft) to pull up, ride a little bit through the sand and surf, and then go up a wet metal ramp and hope you don't slip.

Of course, at least I had ¨proper¨ transportation. One of my fellow passengers on the boat was obviously taking his roosters for a joy ride on his bike. They didn´t look any too pleased, and I don´t think were particularly looking forward to the voyage.

South of Manta I ¨discovered¨ a new road... problem was they hadn´t gotten around to building it yet. This is my way of saying that I took a wrong turn, got lost, and was on this godawful stretch of deep sand and dust. The bike didn´t want to cooperate, and decided to take a little ¨rest¨, without consulting yours truly. Now, if you´ve never tried to lift a loaded, heavy bike by yourself in deep sand I can tell you that it´s not as much fun as it sounds like. But after finding some rocks to prop it part way up, and trying my best to develop another hernia, I was on my way.

The problem was, I didn´t know my way! So I stopped at the only house for miles to ask directions. My Spanish is good... unfortunately my Quechua is non-existent, and that´s all that the old man in the house spoke.

So on I trod, eventually finding pavement and the road on to Montañitas. This is a surfer paradise, but given the lousy weather and rain I took off after one night and headed for Guayaquil.

Ecuador - Otavalo and Quito October 12 to 18

2008-10-18T17:25:00.000-05:00

After leaving Colombia (sob!) I entered Ecuador. At the border I met a couple of German guys on BMWs, and thought I might have some company for a little while. But alas, they got all pissed off when I told them that they didn´t need carnets (a kind of import tax guarantee) to enter Ecuador. They informed me that they had paid 10,000 euros for the carnets and they were going to damn well use them! Since they aren´t required, I just filled out my paperwork. They left in the meantime. Oh well, everyone is not to be traveled with!

The Edward Scissorhand Memorial Cemetary - I made a quick stop at the cemetery in Tulcan near the border. Why, you might ask (since I don´t know any of the residents)? Turns out some of the gardners there thought they were Edward Scissorhand, and did a real job creating tree sculptures. Quite impressive.

I then went to Otavalo. Karen and I had been here 10 years ago for the Saturday market, but I was not there for the weekend this time. I stayed three days just catching up on getting things done (that´s a traveling term for buying a phone card, doing laundry, and the like. Otavalo is at about 8500 feet above sea level, so you have to get used to doing things with a bit less O2.

The most noticeable thing about Otavalo is the indigenous population. The people here aren´t in native dress for anyone... that´s just the way they are. Made for an enjoyable stop.

On October 15, at 12:27 pm, I officially crossed into the southern hemisphere. I missed getting the perfect photo on my GPS by a few feet due to traffic.

Quito was another fun stop. The hostal I stayed in (the Crossroads) made me feel like the Old Man From the Mountain. Everyone there seemed to be about 12... like most of the hostals. But a very friendly group who liked to go out and have a good time. Fortunately some of them were willing to drag me along. I also took some Salsa dance lessons, but then the ¨senior moments¨ kicked in and I´ve forgotten absolutely everything. But it was fun at the time!

A friend of a friend that we had met in Panama (thanks for the introduction, Zack, and for the invitation Mark) had also organized a ¨watch the debate¨night in an Irish Pub in Quito, so I didn´t feel totally out of the American political scene. A heavily Democratic crowd (YES!)

Also got in a little sightseeing. Churches and such, but also an interesting tour of the presidential palace. I was in a group with a bunch of Cubans from New York, so I felt kind of at home (don´t even try to figure that one out). The palace guards dressed kind of like the White House guards in the Nixon days (and for which he took an endless amount of ribbing). These are a bit more authentic.

More soon.

Cali, Isla Gorgona, and South out of Colombia * Oct 6 to 11

2008-10-11T13:10:00.000-05:00

Time to catch up on the news. After the Operation Smile mission in Cali, I spend a few days there then decided to go diving on Isla Gorgonas for a few days. I had heard that the diving here was spectacular. It was good, but not quite what I had been hoping for. I was looking for whale sharks and hammerheads, and didn´t see either. But did see lots of other big fish, and huge schools of tuna.

The island itself used to be a prison, kind of like Alcatraz. The only inmates now are tourists and a few ¨family¨.

There were some particularly large schools of baracuda, looking like sharks at the surface. We dove in to watch (very impressive) but alas, no underwater camera.

On the return from Gorgonas I was waiting for the plane in a restaurant and the owner was feeding a small animal. Turned out it was a baby anteater, a month old. They are found (or stolen) in the jungle and sold for pets. This woman buys them when she can and raises them long enough to let them go in the wild. A truly cool animal!

From Cali I headed south. I spent the night in Pasto with Camilo, a friend of my friend Jacqui, a brit who rode her Enfield 500 from India around most of the world and stayed with us in Panama for a few days (Jacqui... there´s your plug!)

Then it was across the border into Ecuador. In all, I was one month in Colombia and loved it. It´s a great country, beautiful, and the people are wonderful and friendly. Don´t let the old reputation scare you off; Colombia is a great place to visit and as safe as anywhere else. Put it on your list.

Operation Smile (Operacion Sonrisa) - Cali, Colombia - Oct 4

2008-10-04T17:21:00.002-05:00

SPECIAL REPORT

As many of you know (and now the rest do too), I've been involved with Operation Smile for the past eight years. I was on the board of the Seattle chapter, and am now a board member and treasurer of Operacion Sonrisa Panama.

Operation Smile is a worldwide organization that helps kids with facial deformities... mostly cleft lip and palette. We work with the poor, and all treatment is free. The organization is non-religious, and medical "missions" are strictly medical.

We never see kids like this in the US, Canada, or Europe because they tend to be treated when they are less than a year old. Yet a kid with a cleft lip and palette (basically a big hole in the roof of the mouth going into the nasal cavity) will have difficulty eating, drinking, and talking. Often they are shunned by the village. Yet in just an hour or two we are able to correct this terrible debility. It is truly miraculous!

One of the things that I am doing on this trip is meeting with the Operacion Sonrisa people in countries where we have operations to get ideas that we can use in Panama. It so happened that there was a mission in Cali, Colombia, as I was in the area so I was able to participate and observe. Following are some pictures from the mission.

It's always fun to help amuse the kids before surgery. Many of them have never been to the big city, and they are understandably nervous. I always bring along "Miguelito", my pet trained raccoon (ok, he is a puppet but don't tell him that... he thinks he is alive). He looks very real, and is always a big hit.

I also tend to spend some time in surgery (don't worry, they don't let me operate!) There always seems to be a few kids that the volunteers form a special bond with. This time "mine" was Omar. A great kid. One of the more satisfying things that I sometimes get to do is take the kids to surgery, and be with them while they are put under (and of course, watch the procedure). This time I got to accompany Omar.

Another one of my favorites was Marcos. As you can see, he is a very cute kid with a severe cleft lip and palette. His father is the casique (chief) of a local indigenous tribe and they had literally come to the city from the jungle for the surgery.

Marcos' surgery was complex. No matter how many times I've watched, I'm amazed how the surgeons can take what looks to me like a bunch of raw meat and create working parts of a mouth. Think about how many muscles it takes to move your lips and you'll appreciate the complexity of putting it back together.

Immediately after surgery you can see the difference. It will take some time for the swelling to go down, but this little fellow should be able to lead a normal life. And all this in a little over an hour!

** SHAMELESS PLEA **
Operation Smile is completely free for the kids we help. We rely strictly on donations. If you are interested in helping out, contact Operation Smile (www.operationsmile.org) or let me know.

FOR THOSE IN PANAMA:
If you are looking make a contribution to the Panamanian community, but want to be able to take a tax deduction from your US income taxes, we can arrange this. All donations will come to Operacion Sonrisa Panama, but we can have a receipt issued by Operation Smile in the US so that it will be fully tax deductible. Just let me know (email me at Steve@StevenBarnett.com)

Pereira: The Coffee Region - Sept 30 to Oct 1

2008-10-01T16:55:00.000-05:00

After leaving Cali I stopped to see my friend Michel Medina in Pereira. David (the South African) decided to continue on, as I would be stopping in Cali for an Operation Smile mission... more on that later. Michel is a plastic surgeon that I roomed with on an Operation Smile mission to Bolivia four years ago. He just opened a new clinic that is beautiful. For those of you thinking of "having a little work done... just to touch things up", Pereira would be a good place to go. Direct flights from Panama and Miguel is a superb surgeon. I have watched him operate several times on the OpSmile kids and he is great. **This has been a non-paid advertisement**

Only one hitch in Pereira. On my way to visit Michel's clinic I was stopped by a roadblock checking documents. Unfortunately I had left my insurance certificate in Michel's house. The traffic cop (more at the level of a crossing guard) wouldn't let me continue without it. While I went to get it, they towed my bike! Took all afternoon to get it back. To top it off, they weren't supposed to do that, and we complained to the chief. Hopefully she'll get what traffic karma has to offer.

Michel and his girlfriend Melissa were great to me. One night we went to a town in the mountains for the thermals. Beatiful waterfalls and lots of hot water. Made it a bit difficult to maneuver after all that relaxation.

The next day Melissa and her mother took me to visit Salento. This is a little colonial village in the mountains where the houses are all painted in a very unique and colorful manner. Very picturesque. We had a great lunch (fresh trout) and much coffee. This is the coffee growing region of Colombia, and in case you were wondering: Yes, Juan Valdez is alive and well. There are Juan Valdez coffee shops all over Colombia. Starbucks, keep the hell out! Old Juan is pretty popular here. In fact, a couple of years ago they had a country-wide competition to pick a new Juan Valdez. Guess the old one was becoming a bit decaffeinated.

Two weeks on the road: Now in Medellin - Sept 29

2008-09-29T07:08:00.006-05:00

We´ve made it as far a Medellin, Colombia. We´ve traveled about 1500 miles. Not much for two weeks, but we don´t travel every day and the going is slower. There are no freeways, so we have to slow down for every small town along the way (to say nothing of trucks, busses, burros, and pigs in the road).

This is the former drug capital of Colombia... home of Pablo Escobar and the Medellin Cartel. However, since President Urribe was elected Colombia has become MUCH safer. In fact, I feel very safe. There are police or military on all the roads at frequent intervals. They are very friendly to the good guys, but heavily armed to deal with the bad. All it all, it is very comforting so see so much protection.

The countryside from Cartagena to Medellin was gorgeous. Green mountains, forests, and lots of pasture land. We arrived in Medellin yesterday afternoon and are staying in an area called the Zona Rosa (every city seems to have one), which is a very upscale neighborhood. Lots of restaurants, parks, bars, and shops. David (the South African I am currently traveling with) and I are in a very nice hostal called Tamarindo. Even internet so that I can post this blog!

Unfortunately, David took the wrong route into the hostal and his bike got stuck, literally between a rock and a hard place. Time to shed a bit of weight, David :)

Medellin was also home of the famous artist Botrero, he of the corpulent bodies. There is an entire plaza full of his statues. Ah, more hunks... a person could get a complex (although I hesitate to describe just what it might be)!