We left the hustle, bustle and booze of Iquique behind to head back up into the peace and quiet of the desert. The party crowd had arrived for the new year which meant the town and the hostal had stepped up a gear.

The owner of the Sunny Days Hostal in Arica, Ross, had suggested the Oasis of Pica, back up in the Atacama desert would be an ideal place to chill out and relax while we sorted out how to spend our time in Chile.

The camping gear finally came out as the cost slashing started.

A shady site in a mango orchard near the oasis was sandy, so despite our lack of sleeping bags and ground mats the saving of around $30 (£20) a day was not to be sneezed at. Apart from a hot spring fed pool, a constant 40C, the town is renowned for its oranges, lemons and mangoes.

At $4 (£3) for a large bag of locally grown oranges, we set about making our own squash machine (1 cup inner, a metal plate, and a lot of muscle). Small ripe mangoes fell off the trees every time there was a slight breeze, so we could eat these for free.

Lying on our bike jackets for padding, we both fell asleep early in the warmth of the night.

We both awoke in the early pre-dawn hours as the desert temperature dropped; by dawn we were fully dressed in bike gear and all our clothes to try to keep warm until the sun came back up.

As the town was quiet and peaceful on New Years eve, and nothing seemed to be going on, we had a couple of beers, put all our clothes on in advance and went to bed.

In the middle of the night a long air raid siren went off. We had a moment of concern when we tried to decide if this was the local earthquake warning, but then all hell broke loose and there was a cachophany of explosions. Ah, so it was just new year then. I have never seen or heard so many air bombs in once place before. This went on for around 20 minutes, then silence ensued once more and we went back to sleep. Later on we woke again as the earth shook, the tent rattled, and sand shifted as we really were treated to another earthquake, at least there was no danger of a tsunami this time.

That is 4 earthquakes I have experienced now, all while I've been asleep. Just once I would like one when I'm awake.

it was still dark when the Chilean youths turned up, put up a tent, got the beer out and proceeded to talk through what was left of the night. They were still going when we left at 10:30 the next morning.

Did I say we wanted a quiet new year?

And just to celebrate, the right fork seal was leaking again.

We descended from the desert back down to the coast and headed south. As we bimbled along the spectacular coast road we eyed up all the beaches and the clear blue water until finally we could take no more and rode the bike down on to the beach. Jean got off, tested the sand to make sure the bike would not sink and that we would be comfy. Then we set up camp.

I'm 50, and I have finally been "wild" camping.

As the day wore on the people thinned and by the time the sun went down we had a large stretch of beach to ourselves. The moon was late out, so apart from the stars there was no light and once more we settled down to another sleeping bag-less night of peace, broken only by the lapping of the waves.

Until 23.45 when a large Chilean 'redkneck' family turned up in a truck, selected a spot 5 metres from us and set up camp, with stereos blazing, lights shining and voices crashing.

I climbed out of the tent and stood, gobsmacked at what was going on, only when I started shouting did they acknowledge I was there. As politely as I could, I pointed out there was a tent, a motorcycle and some sleeping people. Could they not move further down the beach, it was a big beach.

They moved all of 5 metres. I swear they had 6 fingers on each hand, and webbed feet.

Earplugs in, blindfold on, back to bed.

Did I say we wanted a quiet new year ?

With the morning, the heat came back. We packed and carried on south, a long day was planned and we wanted to get back into the desert so we could visit a national park (and camp again). Unfortunately the bike had other ideas. In a bleak spot it spluttered and died, from 100kmh to 0, very quickly.

With the lights switched off we were able to bump start her. Our investigations at the side of the sand blasted highway showed that the charging system had failed. With no idea of how much further the bike would run before the battery was completely discharged. The nearest large city, Antofagasta, was 100kms away, so we wished for more 'wings' and rode on.

As we pulled into a gas station in Antofagasta to ask directions for a mechanic, the last remnants of life trickled down the wires and she sparked no more.

While rummaging under the seat, in a vain search for a loose wire, we were approached by a man who just happened to know a bike mechanic, "Give me 20 minutes, I'll be back with him" and off he went.

Ricardo, the mechanic, returned in a large red truck (I still have truck envy) and confirmed my diagnosis.

"Its broken, the alternator", he said.

"Can you fix it ?" I asked. "Do you want a new one?" "No." "Can it be fixed?" "Yes, but it will be 2 or 3 days, how long have you got?"

"2 or 3 days, or as long it takes" I replied with a grin.

Now, once again we are in the hands of a mechanic that we have only just met, this one at least has a proper workshop and a decent set of tools. I have not seen any sign of 'special tools' like a big hammer or a screwdriver yet, so have asked him to have another go at the fork seal.

With no power in the battery to run the engine, Jean was replaced as my pillion so I could ride (carefully) to his workshop.