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.