This is the first instalment of what I hope will be an interesting Blog about our preparations for and journey through Central and South America. I thought it might be interesting not just to write about what an exciting time we are having, but also a little about some of the preparation that goes into such a trip, so if you are only interested in the exciting bits, youll have to wait awhile!!
In the last 2 weeks, we have been busy sorting out all the documents that we need to take with us.
We got our international drivers licences and international registration documents and booked the shipping of the bikes.
In the last 2 weeks, we have been busy sorting out all the documents that we need to take with us. I had to get my bike registered in my name instead of Arnos, not just for this trip; incidentally, the machine has to be in my name when it is shipped to Australia, if we ever get our Permanent Residence Visas.
Here for anyone who is interested in what we are taking with us, is an almost complete list of what we packed into our alu boxes and ortlieb sacks.LIST OF EQUIPMENT WE STARTED OUT WITH.
BIKE EQUIPMENT
No rocket science here, just common sense! The Spare parts and tools we take, will take up a lot of space and are relatively heavy, however, they will, we hope, give us more chance to help ourselves if, or when we break down.
Time is flying past, last week we visited one of our sponsors, Siebenrock in Stuttgart. With the shipping date now decided, it was time to do a trial pack of the bikes and see how and where everything would fit.
The really good news this week was an email from the Australian Embassy in Berlin.
We have been in top gear the last couple of days, trying to get everything done. We went for our medicals and collected together all the extra paperwork that the Australian Embassy required. Arno took his gearbox out and took it to the specialist, who pronounced it fit after taking it apart and replacing the main seal. He and Hans put the whole thing back together again in a couple of hours. It is so helpful to have a BMW specialist in your circle of friends!!
A visit to the copy shop was also squeezed in, so we could copy all our important documents.
Things are beginning to come together, we may even get our Permanent Resident visas before we leave. We spent a whole day preparing the crates for the bikes, time to see how they fitted together.
We are also the proud owners of a laptop - Thanks Micheal!!
Highlight of the week an email from the Australian Embassy, pleased to inform you blah blah
. They have decided to grant us our visas at long last. That was darn quick!! Just have to wait for Arnos new passport to arrive, then we can get the visa actually in our hot little hands!
Monday first day free from our jobs, but no rest for the wicked. Spent the whole day packing and crating the bikes.
The bikes are on their way, but there is still so much to do. We spent the next couple of days packing all our belongings. I was lucky enough to be able to borrow a big van from L&M, and so with the help of friends, we squeezed all our stuff in and then drove it to Arnos brothers place, where it will stay until after our trip.
Our passports were waiting for us when we got back, complete with the long awaited visas for Australia. It was so good to read the words permitted to remain in Australia indefinitely
The majority of the work on the bikes was done by Arno, he is more mechanically minded and has lots of experience from his first trip. I helped where possible and tried to learn more about my bike where I could.
Arnos bike had had a complete overhaul recently in addition the drive shaft and the cam shaft chain had been replaced.
A little welding and painting and she was ready to go again.
Our starting point was organising the shipping of the bikes to Los Angeles. Air was too expensive so we started collecting Ocean Freight quotes from various sources. The next big project was getting our camping equipment sorted out. For anyone that is interested, have a look in the archives for a complete equipment list of what we started out with.
Germany and England are behind us, we landed in Sydney yesterday, after an 18 hr flight and validated our new visas. For the next 2 weeks, we will be spending time with family and friends, and sorting out relevant paperwork, including collecting together the documents that will allow us to import our bikes into Australia at the end of our trip.
Quite by chance we discovered that the National Motorcycle museum of Australia is just down the road, (by Aussie standards) at Nabiac in NSW. We borrowed a car and headed down the mountain - 30kms of unsealed road. A further 25kms towards Sydney and we found the museum, in a tiny village alongside the Pacific Highway. It was huge, 3 halls containing over 400 bikes, from all over the world.
Here we are on the correct continent at last. Things are not however, going exactly according to plan .
The bikes arrived at Los Angeles Harbour as expected, we even manage to get a lift to the warehouse to pick up our bikes, problem is they arent there.
Here we are on the correct continent at last. Things are not however, going exactly according to plan .
We have been in LA 12 days now, we are running out of patience, but there is nothing that we can do. We call the warehouse every day in the vague hope that our crates have slipped through the pickets, but the strike is holding firm. Nothing is moving, there are more ships arriving everyday, over 200 now wait offshore.
The government is finally getting involved as the economy starts to be affected, if luck is on our side we should be able to pick up the bikes tomorrow.
A lot has happened in a short time. We at last have our bikes, bade farewell to LA and went to an Oktoberfest in San Diego. After a taste of the desert in SE Arizona and a visit to the old outlaw town of Tombstone, we crossed the border at Douglas, it was easy, but time consuming.
At some points I wondered if I really had ridden down this road. Arno was having fun even though he has a much heavier bike, I was struggling at some points but chose a reasonably easy stretch to dump the bike for the second time.Today is Day of the Dead, here in Zacatecas. Yesterday the children celebrated by dressing up in Halloween type costumes and parading around the city asking for sweets. Today they accompany their parents to the cemetery where the graves are decorated with many flowers and examples of the dead persons favourite foods.
We awoke he next morning to the sound of rain on the tent, oh joy!! Now to decide, stay and get wet, or go and get wet. When Ruth came back from the bathrooms saying there was no water the decision was easier, we go. After riding down the middle of Mexico, we felt that it was time to head to some water, the coast was a little far so we decided on Lake Chapala. We had to negotiate our way through or preferably around Guadalajara, Mexicos second city. We rode with Ruth and Merv and I was surprised how much more attention we attracted, being 3 bikes rather than 2.
As we descended towards the city we found ourselves driving in the dark, breaking the first rule of motorcycle travelling. We had 30kms ahead of us, the road was ok, but it was still a nerve wracking experience.
We survived our night in the jungle, despite the spiders, mosquitoes and our own cooking. It wasnt actually raining the next day, so we set off for the Lagos de Montebello, several beautiful lakes near the border.Guatemala was calling, we just had to decide which way to get there. Through Yucatan and Belize, back towards San Cristobal or the loop, along the Guatemalan border past Bonampak, Yaxchilan and the Montebello Lakes. We decided on the road less travelled and take the loop. According the guide books, the road hasnt been paved all that long so it sounded a bit more adventurous.
Our guide still carried a few good sized rocks in his jacket however, and there were a few uniformed lads with guns, just in case. We got to the steaming crater, that was the summit, as the sun was beginning to go down. Our first volcano climb of the trip so far, hard work but worth it. No flowing lava or burning rocks, that was all happening on Volcan Fuego, out of bounds to climb, but visible from Antigua on clear nights.
. I thought to myself, ah, thats ok, they are just digging up the road here, it will get better soon After 10kms, I had to face the fact that the next 180kms were not going to be any better in fact things got rather worse.Our bikes were packed, wed waved goodbye to our family and our final task in Antigua was to check email. Arnos bike however had other ideas. The repaired starter motor, now refused to work!! While I was internetting, Arno was outside with pieces of BMW spread over the pavement, trying to fix it. He got it working, but we decided enough!!
Arno took the chain off, gave it a good clean and oiling, then fitted it back on. It was only when he came to fit the chain connector did we find out it wasnt the correct size, too big!! We hadnt planned to go to Tikal, but so many people had said how good it was and we had met other people who had driven or ridden there without any problems, that we decided to ride up there and see what all the fuss was about.
When we got back to our bikes, we were surprised to see another parked beside them, and with German plates. We waited for the rider to return and so met Georg.It was a 15 minute ride to the tiny town of Copan Ruinas, on a brand new tarmac road, still no signs though! We parked by the main square and cast about for accommodation. An American by the name of Jessie came over for a chat and invited us to his place for a beer, when we had settled in. A nice start to our visit.
The evening started well with a lovely sunset and improved when the generator failed, so we spent a peaceful evening in front of a real fire, with only the sound of the waves and the insects to disturb us. The road to Granada was easy and in good condition, the driving too was a lot less hazardous, so we took it easy and got to the hostel in the late afternoon. Parking was right at the back of the building, through the restaurant, bar, reception, laundry, toilets, rooms and into a leafy patio.
Our first meal in Costa Rica was goulash with dumplings, and Arno spent the morning making apple strudel and croissants
We had missed out of the volcanoes of El Salvador and Nicaragua and hoped to make up for it here in Costa Rica, home to some of the most accessible and the most active volcano in Central America.
We had an escort, in the shape of a gate guard with a clapped out DT125 and a big gun, who was assigned to us until the customs papers were done. We have been in Panama a week and the bikes are already on their way to South America.
Panama City is surprisingly modern but you still know you are in Central America. Fancy shopping malls and shiny skyscrapers contrast with traffic chaos, hawkers on street corners and an army of police and security guards.
Clean streets, orderly traffic and German beer in the supermarket hard to believe we are in South AmericaClean streets, orderly traffic and German beer in the supermarket hard to believe we are in South America. Santiago was a little different than expected, a pleasant surprise really. We met up again with Guido and Sabine and also Yuki who had also decided to ship to Chile. We had a few days to kill before the bikes arrived and so explored the city before heading to the coast.
Arno had abandoned his bike outside the police station and ran back to see how I was doing and the police being the suspicious sort - had followed. From San Antonio, we took the Pan Americana (Ruta 5) south, its a boring road that you have to pay for, but there is no real alternative if you want to get anywhere without zigzagging around like a demented insect.
After riding around the few deserted buildings and gas plant, unable to see were we could get fuel, we asked directions at what looked like a canteen. Bad news, the fuel station had already closed! Well we cheated a little, we have only ridden about 1500kms since Panama, the rest we did the easy way - by boat.
Arno went to El Chalten to fetch the damaged bike. He came back, absolutely plastered with mud.It was snowing when we got to the Moreno Glacier, but not for long thank goodness. It was a bit nippy however, so we glacier watched while wandering around the walkways to keep warm. It really was spectacular, no matter how many pictures you see, the real thing is just amazing. And the noise, I didnt think ice could be so loud. Every time a chunk broke off and fell into the lake, it sounded like a 5 storey building collapsing.
Luck being on our side, we arrived just as the road was being reopened, it was like a bad obstacle course, and my idea of hell.Riding the Caretera Austral in the daylight was much more fun than in the dark, a little faster and time to look at the beautiful scenery. After the town of Coihaique, we rode north on tarmac at first, then back to gravel. It was a reasonably good road, but narrow with lots of traffic. On a nice straight stretch I decided to ride as close to the verge as possible, got a little too close and dumped the bike!
It was a Friday night and the place was buzzing. We got out of our soggy gear, got to know everyone and ate the first of our Azul asados.It had just stopped raining when we pulled into town, but Oscar still came to meet us on his bike. He is a member of the Horizons Community in Viedma. We visited his place, met his family, then were found a great place to stay just up the road.
Oscar and Arno making noquis
On being stopped at a roadblock, the copper asked if we had been riding at 110kph, assured him we hadn't whereupon he asked us where our fire extinguishers were! Buenos Aires kept us busy for over 2 weeks, there was so much to keep us occupied, we did some research on shipping, wandered around interesting neighbourhoods such as San Telmo and Recoleta, watched some tango, visited museums, ate asados and saw a fraction of what this huge city has to offer.
The traffic here is crazy, the police control the main street that leads across the bridge into Brazil, as otherwise it would be complete gridlock. Paraguay is not like Argentina at all, we were reminded of central America, as the customs official laboriously typed out the forms in triplicate for the bikes, on an ancient looking machine. Money changers were also hanging around, so took the opportunity to change some Pesos into Guaranies.
A few brave lorry and coach drivers were slowly descending, the corners so tight, that at each turn they had to stop and reverse a few metres before being able to get around. Porto Alegre is a big city and it took us a couple of hours of searching before we found a hotel with parking, that didnt cost a fortune. Had a look around the city then got in touch with the colleague of Arno's brother who had brought a parcel over from Germany for us. Marcelo and his wife Alexandra, took us out for lunch and then for a sail around the bay.
The ride to Sao Paulo was interesting but dangerous, the 3 lane road wound through the mountains, clogged with lines of slow moving trucks. Overtaking was a gamble, lines in the road were ignored, the crazy had priority.After 10 days, Florianopolis had had enough of us and let us go. We left our many new friends and rode to Blumenau, famous for being the centre of German culture in Brazil and for holding the second biggest Oktoberfest in the world. Staying in Hotel Hermann, near the centre, we spent a day wandering around the very German looking city.
At Passeo do Lontra, we stopped to get a few extra litres of fuel, the sun was beginning to redden, so tempting as it was to keep riding, we decided to stop at the campsite there. Trikes and choppers, street bikes, dirt bikes, self-made bikes, madmax bikes, mopeds and even the odd sidecar combi. Thousands of bikes of every imaginable sort were lined up along the beachfront at Cabo Frio, for the annual Bikefest, including ours of course!
There was a bridge to cross, a long one lane bridge shared with the trains. Had to get the bikes over one rail, then ride in the middle of the tracks, the planks full of gaps and nailsFor the fourth, or was it the fifth time this morning, I ended up in the sand, my bike complaining loudly beside me.
The truckies didnt tell us there was sand I muttered for the hundredth time,
we didnt ask came the reply as Arno helped me get the bike upright.
On the other side of the river, the road works awaited, we thought we had missed a turn but no, this was the new road, trouble was, it was still being built. Santa Cruz is a big city and it felt more Brazilian than Bolivian. We were in need of a place to do an oil change and some maintenance after riding the Road to Hell. Found a workshop that on first sight wasnt encouraging, a young lad was drilling out a cylinder with what looked like a Black & Decker!! The guy in charge knew what he was about however, Snr. Becerra had worked in the States and Japan.
We finally made it onto the Salar and what an amazing experience, like riding on snow as hard as concrete and flat as far as the eye can see. Probably the only place on earth where you can ride with your eyes closed for a minute or two, exhilarating! The hotel where we stayed in Uyuni is a real meeting point for motorcycle travellers preparing for, or recovering from, a trip onto the Salar. Almost every day a new bike or two appears and sure enough the next morning there was another bike parked in the courtyard.
It took 4 days in all, from the morning the postman delivered the parts, to restarting the bike after taking the engine apart, having the cylinder redrilled and putting all back together.Demonstrators were out on the streets and roads into La Paz were blocked by protesting campesinos. Away from Plaza de San Francisco, where protesters were rallying, the city centre was quite, more so than usual.
We climbed steeply out of the valley and soon found ourselves at 4000m. The XT was not amused and started spluttering again, we took the cover off the air intake and that helped. With not too many forms to fill in and plenty of people ready to point us in the right direction.
Entering Peru was easier than leaving Chile, but we were used to that by now, the Chileans seem reluctant to let you leave, wonder why?
As I watched however, the sun soon disappeared and the black clouds came my way. It didn't rain, it hailed, long and hard, my bike wasn't much protection and I was huddled next to it wearing all my kit, helmet included.We had climbed back up to around 4000m and the landscape was bleak, a lake or two, with a flamingo here and there, broke the monotony of grass and rocks. The sun shone but in the distance dark grey clouds threatened. It was here that my bike decided it didnt want to play anymore! It just died out, as if from lack of fuel.
There were a couple of tunnels carved out of the rock, one at least 500m long and curved, a little scary in the dusty blackness, luckily there were no buses coming in the other direction! The road through the canyon towards Cabanaconde hugged the side of the valley, red cliffs to our left, the river to our right.
There were rocks littering the road as we approached one of the toll stations and a large crowd was gathered around a truck on the other side.
A bloqueo or roadblock!
Oururo behind us, we took the long way round to Sucre, as we had been told the more direct route was much tougher, 300kms of hard dirt. As we approached the small town of Challapata however, we began to think that maybe the direct route would have been faster. There were rocks littering the road as we approached one of the toll stations and a large crowd was gathered around a truck on the other side.
The road for the first 50kms, was really narrow in places and we wondered if we had missed a turn-off. After the village of Molinos the road widened and passed through valleys filled with spectacular rock formations.Tupiza was a small town, we found only one hotel with parking, so it wasn't surprising to find a couple of bikes already there. The Africa Twins belonged to Claudio and Eduardo, from Santiago, on a 2 week holiday, heading towards Uyuni and the Salar.
The next morning we took it easy, only 150kms to Mendoza and I thought we would be there for lunch. The Argentine police however had other ideas.The air was full of dust and we couldnt see the mountains surrounding us, so decided to give Valle de la Lunar a miss and ride on towards Mendoza. We took a wrong turn in the village of Huaca and ended up on dirt. It wasnt too bad and the small river crossings cooled us and the bikes down. We were soon back on tarmac, but it was so potholed, the dirt was preferable.
There were more potholes than tarmac in fact and riding in the gravel that lay at the sides of the road was preferable to the rim-wrecking road surface. We took our time leaving Cajón Grande, but we were still quickly back onto the Ruta 40, which according to our information, was paved but with lots of potholes. There were more potholes than tarmac in fact and riding in the gravel that lay at the sides of the road was preferable to the rim-wrecking road surface.
The constant stop-go, stop-go was frustrating, the bikes began to overheat and so did we. Stopped at the side of the road for a break hoping we were not in a dodgy area.Riding dirt roads is all about confidence, it took me 15 hard months and numerous crashes to work that one out!! The last dirt road of the trip was probably the easiest for me, although I probably would have not have thought so a year ago.
One bus came so close behind me, that I couldn't see the driver, just the big Mercedes star on the front of the radiator. Unfortunately, Arno had taken his 'Bolivian security' a machete, off the bike, so we had to settle with the usual hand gesturesSandra and Javier are the HU community in Buenos Aires and go out of their way to make sure any travellers that arrive there are well taken care of.
the paperwork was done and dusted in a few minutes and it was time to get the bikes to the harbour.
MOTOQUEROS - THE NEW BOOK
Here it is, the book to accompany the trip!Here it is, the book to accompany the trip!
Written by Arno, with contributions from Sian and others, this book is in German, and follows our 18 month trip of 55,000kms, from the beaches of California to the most southerly city in the world. As we ride down Central America, past Mayan ruins and steaming volcanoes, read how we then cross into South America, battle through the endless Pampa in Patagonia, along the Altiplano to the heart of the Inca kingdom, ending after 18 months in the city of tango.