Peter and Leonie, Amsterdam to Anywhere, piranha fishing in Bolivia,
"We take the wooden canoe and float through a narrow side arm that leads to a lake that according to Pedro is full of the little biters. Better not make the boat rock too much, because this is not a good place to fall in the water. With a machete Pedro cuts the meat into pieces. As soon as I've thrown in, I instantly feel the fish pulling on the line. When I bring up the hook the piece of meat is already considerably smaller. The first three pieces of meat are eaten from the hook completely, without me catching a fish. Pedro has more success and shows us some of this fishing techniques. That helps, because not long after Peter catches his first piranha. It's a big one, with a beautiful red colour and a set of razor-sharp teeth.
Once I have copied the technique, I also catch a piranha. I've never been very tough when fishing, so I always ask Peter to take the fish from my hook. I hold my rod up in the air and manoeuvre the fish towards Peter, while he grabs towards it. Then I suddenly hear him shout. The beast has bitten in his hand! His hand is red from the blood that gushes out the wound. Oh No! While I quickly look for water and bandages, Peter very calmly keeps his dripping hand above the water. Like sharks, piranhas are attracted to blood, so maybe it gives us some extra fish for lunch. The piranha has left a tooth imprint on his hand. Luckily he did not bite a piece off!
Whether it was the blood or our fishing techniques we don't know, but the next hour we catch one fish after the other one. On the way back my eyes are focused on the bottom of the boat where the piranhas are floundering. Dangerously close to my toes and this time with bigger teeth than the catfish. But fortunately it's all good. Back at the boat Alicia prepares lunch and we each have a plate with a fried piranha. Even on the plate they look dangerous. After the first bite we understand immediately why we have worked so hard to catch them, because they taste very good!"
Ed. Lots more wonderful stories and photos on Peter and Leonie's site.
Shannon and Mike Mills, USA, Round the World, in Morocco,
"Camping wild in the lush, evergreen forests of the High Atlas Mountains was an amazing experience; to actually have a large troop of endangered Barbary Macaques visit your camp with their newborn babies in tow was simply spectacular, for about sixty seconds. The monkeys descended on our camp to steal anything not hidden or tied down. They were smart enough to know that food comes in plastic bags so the simian mob grabbed anything in plastic (we were packing up camp so unfortunately we had a lot of stuff unsecured). As we gave chase and pretended to throw rocks most of our stolen things were quickly carried away as the troop dispersed up trees, down trails, or up onto the big rocks surrounding our camp. The Macaques were very quick to determine there was nothing to eat in our gear and soon abandoned our possessions on the ground for us to collect.
The endangered Barbary Macaque is native to the Atlas Mountains. Their favorite food appears to be imported cotton tampons stolen from American tourists. Photo by Emily Sheff (sheffdp.com)
The worst of the carnage came from a large Ziploc bag containing hundreds of tampons Shannon had just brought back from our trip home in April. The bag had been immediately ripped into and as the monkey ran away from us a trail of brilliant while dots streaked into the forest. We gave chase and found our thief high atop a boulder with the remaining loot in the torn Ziploc. The monkey would take a single tampon, bite into it, and then throw it down before reaching into the bag for another one. We were being robbed in slow motion. Finally, after countless tries, the monkey threw the bag down in frustration. Shannon and I spent the next ten minutes collecting all the tampons over the wide area of devastation. We separated the collection into two piles, those 'with' teeth marks and those 'without' teeth marks. Because, as everyone knows, using a tampon with monkey bites is how a girl gets cooties.
Thanks for the photo permission from Emily at Sheff Pphotos who says "It is always a treat to finally meet with other overlanders that we often message with on Facebook, but have never met in person."
Dan (from The Road Chose Me) and his traveling companion Emily (Sheff Doc Photos) camped with us for a couple of nights in Ifrane National Park.
We have recently hit our southernmost point in Africa for this trip. At the coastal city of Sidi Ifni we turned north and will take a slow, meandering route north through the Atlas Mountains and eventually make our way to the Mediterranean Coast. So far Morocco has been the exotic jewel we expected and we are glad we came."
After our trip into the Sahara the cool temperatures at the Atlantic Coast were a welcome treat.
Sidi Ifni, Morocco
Ed. See the rest of the story at Mike and Shannon's blog.
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Ekke Kok and Audrey Allenspach-Kok, Canada, through South America, Disaster in Peru!
"After a long walk up the beach we were almost back at the hotel when we suddenly spotted a big splash just off shore. A pod of whales was cruising slowly south, a couple of hundred metres offshore. We had never seen whales so playful, breaching and splashing with their fins, so we were riveted to the beach watching them swim parallel to the shore until they disappeared. Wow, we felt so fortunate to witness such magnificent creatures close up.
...Just before dinner we were in our room when we heard one of the motorcycle alarms go off. Still in my flip-flops I walked around the side of the building to investigate but found nothing out of the ordinary. Just as I turned around to go back to the room I stepped on a wet sidewalk block and my left foot slipped out from under me. Trying to catch myself, my right leg was at an awkward angle when all my weight came down on it and I collapsed to the ground. I saw that my right knee cap was not in its proper place, having moved up the thigh a few centimetres. While it was painful at the time of the fall it didn't hurt a lot afterwards. I called for Audrey and she came out to find me sitting on the sidewalk holding my leg. This looked awfully similar to the time I ruptured my patella tendon in Germany, nine years ago...
...We took another cab back to the trauma centre in Talara (way more comfortable than the ambulance) and waited for an emergency room doctor to have another look at the knee. The young doctor didn't really do much of an inspection and twice asked why I had come back. We explained that the way the leg collapsed the injury had to be more severe than a simple sprain. But all he said was to come back on Friday, after the swelling had gone down. We had wasted five hours.
We took a cab over to the Rio Verde hotel in Talara to wait out the week. Unfortunately the room at the hotel was on the second floor and I wasn't sure I could climb stairs using the too-short crutches. However, the friendly staff at the hotel had seen me clamber out of the cab and promptly provided a wheelchair. Over my protests (telling them that I weigh 110 kilos!) they lifted me and the wheelchair up and somehow managed to get me up the stairs to the second floor. Where I remained for the next five days. Taking room service for all my meals and sitting by the window watching the tuk-tuks go by.
Yes, I recall that having ice cream and cake is good therapy
...After letting the travel medical insurance company know that the diagnosis was indeed a ruptured patella tendon, as confirmed by the ultrasound, they said that since I was stabilised with the cast I would be flown home for surgery. We were not given the option of getting the surgery done in Lima as was our preference. They said that we were free to do that and try to claim the cost of the surgery afterwards but then the travel medical insurance wouldn't be valid for the rest of the trip. That sealed it, we're going home.
We boarded a plane in Talara headed for Lima where the insurance company had reserved three seats for me so that I could stretch out my leg. Then, after a layover it was on to Dallas in Business Class for me and Economy for Audrey and eventually Calgary, arriving on Tuesday afternoon. A stretch limo was waiting to take us directly to the Foothills Hospital where we were dropped off at Emergency. I was finally taken to a bed in the Emergency room at a little after Midnight and then the next day a real bed opened up. Thursday morning I had surgery and Saturday I was released from the hospital. Now it was time for months of physiotherapy..."
Ed. Ekke and Audrey have now returned to Peru to continue their South American journey, and we all are hoping for good karma, as they really deserve some! Follow their adventures on their blog. To note - if you're travelling, don't leave home without your travel medical and evacuation insurance!
end entry div
Juvena Huang (Wandering Wasp), Singapore, Round the World, in Iran, Vespa,
"In Iran, it is illegal for women to ride motorcycles on the streets. The only avenue for them to ride is on private tracks. With connections of Global Women who Ride, I got in touch with Behnaz Shafiei, one of the few women professional motocross riders in Iran. We went to the track near Hashtgerd for two days of riding. I borrowed a KTM 150 SX for a few rounds of airtime. The track was surrounded by mountains, one of the most beautiful tracks I have been to."
Ed. Great stories and pics on her blog.
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Lisa Morris and Jason Spafford, UK, Argentina to Alaska, in Alberta at the Stowasis, BMW F650GS and F800GS,
"An icy rush of air continued to charge up my legs, a freezing slipstream on exposed skin. Then the downpour fell in sheets, hammering down on us. The shrill, cold needles of rain smacked our visors, arms, the tops of our thighs, and the backs of our necks. There'd been countless times on the trip when we'd have given up our teeth for a good rain, and now we gnashed them in frustration over the deluge.
Just a regular traffic jam in Canmore. No big deal.
In my glaciated mind, I tried to laugh myself warm. Incredibly, that proved fruitful for about three minutes: listening to Jase emulate the noises of a ground squirrel. Imagine a yappy type dog yelping and then speed it up and shorten it down to squirrel-size. But 200 miles at 1C into a bossy wind on top, a bone deep chill crept in for the long haul, one that I thought must be like the cold of death itself.
Jack Frost keeping me on my toes.
What's more, the wind was getting teeth, lashing my braid, our bodies and the bikes, tilting us both to one side. I knew I'd never again take being 'warm-blooded' for granted having now felt the alternative - my blood sloshing back and forth inside me like mercury. The cold was invasive, mindless. Stupefied by the rain motioned us every 30 odd miles to dive and take cover, praying for shelter with an open fire.
The world famous 'Stowasis' - With underfloor heating, warm lighting and great background tunes always playing–is what you call a corking shelter.
Upon reaching Canmore, to a well known snuggery that goes by the name 'Stowasis', every molecule in my body trembled. My hands had become so numb, they didn't seem my own. We were shivering miserably as Nevil and Michelle Stow invited us into the warmth. Snapped out of it, lips slowly regaining normal colour, I ditched the sodden riding gear and opened my eyes to the home of 'garagaritas' (courtesy of the tequila: crammed, I was informed by Nevil, with vitamin 'T') and a random but radiant set of 'Stowaways'."
Ed. Jason has a great pic in the Horizons Unlimited 2017 Calendar, selling fast!