Global Enduro

Baja=road kill heaven

Dogs, horses, cows, cats and large green lizards seem to be far more street wise in southern Baja. I have come to this conclusion after becoming what I feel as somewhat a wealth of knowledge regarding Mexican road kill.
I left San Diego 8 days ago with my friend Tim, whom I met whilst learning how to fly. We both rolled up to the border at Tijuana feeling quite relieved to finally be moving on from the USA. The border process was a bit of a joke. We somehow managed to end up in Mexico without even trying so had to be let back in though a big steel gate to try and find a US immigration man to stamp us out of their country. Though finally I didn't have to call the immigration man 'sir' 400 times before he would process me as I promptly informed him I was trying to get out of his country not into it. So we went back to Mexico to get us and the bikes imported.... What a ridiculous system! Most people would assume you would get this process done at the border, but no, in Mexico you need to drive about 1 mile past the border to an un-signposted place in a back street where of course, its so obvious... this is where you get all the stamps. Lucky for us the immigration man who was armed with a very undernourished attack dog took pity on us and told us where to go. I felt slightly disappointed the attack dog didn't go for my lower back, as its toothless old chops looked like it would have given a great massage, but instead it just sat there drooling and eying up every potential truck tyre as a quick way out.
So we got our paperwork done after about 2 further hours and were finally officially 'imported' into Mexico. Next was to escape Tijuana and the northern towns as that day was a Saturday which to me meant most Mexican police men were putting their best bribery face on ready for hordes of unsuspecting gringos. On leaving T.J I finally realized how many suicidal dogs there were in Mexico, within 10 mins of riding I negotiated past 2 Alsatians, 1 Labrador cross and I think 2 chowawas. Well at least I think thats what they were as they were blending into the hard shoulder when I went passed. Initially it is fairly gruesome to see Fido the dog purified on the armco, but it is something you get used to. What you don't get used to is the fact you dint have an air-con filter on the bike to sift out the smoldering dog smell as you pass them. My nose has now got used to all the flavors the road had to offer in Baja, and I must say cat seems to be a far more subtle aroma, where as dog is more sharp on the pallet.

We got passed Rosarito and I must admit all the rumors of Mexican drivers are (SO FAR) not true. I must stress this is comparing them to American drivers which are terrible. Granted the Mexican may think driving on the right hand side is a suggestion, and that traffic lights are merely Morse code for go faster, but at least they keep their eyes on the road, which is far more than I can say for the US driver. Especially as the Americans cross the border they feel that they can drive even more dangerously as it would only be a 'local heathen' they would run over if all went wrong. The only redeeming feature of the average uncle sam being in Mexico means they still have one hand free to hold the wheel, as in the US one hand is for the mandatory mobile phone, the other is for the burger being chewed on, and the eye sight, well in the USA they are normally reading a book, but at least in Mexico they need to keep an eye out for the next suicidal pooch waiting for an exit from planet earth.
So after leaving the last major US incursion of Mexico (Ensanada) after day 1 we headed east towards the sea of Cortez and some dirt roads. On the ride across central Baja we saw some great scenery. It really is a very picturesque area of Mexico with great desert, mountains and lots and lots of cacti. Whilst riding along my attention was drawn to the edge of the road by something I was not used to, and oh yeah, a new smell, this one, slightly nutty. And there we have it, road kill comes in all shapes and sizes here, we now have a horse! I pitty the poor old sod who met with black beauty, but I can assure you that the horse was more red coloured and certainly no longer a beauty.
I shall brush over san Felipe as a place full of annoying tourists who has somehow slipped past all the military road blocks to arrive in a peaceful town, only to rent 14 quads, 32 jet skis and a large 4x4. They then proceed to ride them 24 hours a day. Nowhere was safe, and everywhere I looked it seemed there was a large pasty beached whale of a man tearing round on some sort of vehicle or another. Night 2 = bad nights sleep!

Day 3 we rode towards the dirt, We had already been through about 6 military blocks where they seemed to care more about the size of my bike and where I was going. As soon as I mentioned Argentina in my slowly increasing Spanish vocab, they just called me 'loco' and waved us on. We arrived at the dirt track along the coast line. The scenery was amazing but it was so so hot. The rest of the day was taken up by riding the worst roads (if thats what you can call them) I have so far ridden. The average speed must have been 10 mph the whole way in either really deep sand or huge rocks. We passed a couple of Mexicans in a HiLux who we saw at the end of the dirt road 2 days later. They told us they had received 4 punctures in about 130 miles, they ended up driving the last 30 miles on the rims! That is how bad this road was! Anyway back to the track.... So late in the first day of off roading both bikes are doing well but we ran out of water, I for one was so tired it was unreal so made the call we go down a track which suggested it had a restaurant. This may seem obvious but all the tracks say that, and you are greeted by a burnt down old shack or a dog waiting to die (you should see his eyes light up as he sees the wheels of the bike roll up!) So we rode down a track of horrid deep sand towards the sea and it turned out we were in luck, this place even had a dirt airstrip, but no Cessna's to have a go at flying unfortunately. I was so tired I decided to stop the bike in the most stylish of ways by applying the brakes till I stopped rolling and with great style falling off. Very cool.

So we found some leathery old bat who said she would cook us our 400 th taco of the trip, and even had some cola, so all was well. The place was actually really nice, and the beach was deserted apart from some whale bones, so we decided to stay the night here. We met the Mexicans who owned the place and they were really nice and let us sleep for free even though the taco woman try to sly $5 out of us for a beach she claimed to own! We spent the evening chatting with the Mexicans and this crazy American guy. I then notice that I happen to be sitting on a black widow spider! It really was!! I was on a chair, got up to get some water, and when i came back I shone the torch at the chair to see a black widow just hanging out in his web right where my legs were. Obviously the Mexicans found this very funny, but not me, and on closer inspection these nasty little blighters were everywhere! The Mexicans reassured me that I probably wouldn't die from a bite, I would just be very ill and live long enough for a medi-vac. I felt much better (yeah-right!)

The next day Tim and I rode on along the last leg of the dirt road through really tough deep sand. Not easy on a bike weighing as much as mine. Tim was handling it very well considering his experience, but I suppose he only had 1 pair of underpants and some petrol for weight. We got to the tarmac and continued through various towns which were a bit of a disappointment. We were chasing the tail end of a hurricane which we knew nothing about till we arrived at these towns which were full of debris and raw sewage, so to be fair it wasn't the best advert for a cynic like me.
We were now in the South (Baja Sur) This point is marked by more military types looking bored and asking silly questions. We headed for Lorreto along the Mex 1, and I began to notice something different. My nose had not been offended by the smell of stewing livestock for quite a while. However there were plenty more live ones loitering on the roads, amongst the usual suspects were goats who seemed to have joined the party. It brought back great memories of the plastic bottle chewing goats of Africa, and confirmed to me that once a pack of goats appear by the roadside you really are in a developing country. Due to the fact that the road was littered with living creatures made me come to the conclusion that they must be way more streetwise down south, or maybe its just because there are no American tourists running them over, whilst looking for the next Subway (the healthy alternative for fat people) and talking to anyone who will listen on their mobile phone. Very likely I'm sure.
After leaving Lorreto feeling a bit disappointed about firstly the huge cost of accommodation in this area but also the smell of poo due to the storm, we searched for another place to stay. We took a dirt road towards the mountains where there was supposed to be a really pretty mission built by do-gooders way back when. We rode on a great dirt road through streams and past great scenery for about 1 hr, and arrived at mission san Javier. This place was great! Certainly the best place I have been in Baja. A small mission with a really nice old church and cobbled streets. We camped in the local junkies vegetable patch for a mere $2 (money for his medication of course! ) And I was constantly bothered by a thieving Alsatian who found it amusing to run off with my tent pegs.
We woke up the next morning under mango trees, so breakfast was free. Very nice mangos too. Lucky for us the local junky was nowhere to be seem I'm sure due to his `medication' so we left heading west on the dirt road to the Pacific side. Now what you need to understand when it comes to locals is that a general rule is do not believe a word they say until you see it for yourself. Due to this hurricane that had gone through, the river was swollen, a few locals said we would not make it as the river was waist high, but several others including the local policeman said it was fine, so off we set. The first section of the road was about 2-3 foot deep in mud, I rode through the tyre marks made by other vehicles, but tip disappeared. I rode back to find him covered in mud, and totally stuck. After about 10 mins of laughing I decided it best to direct operations rather than get covered in smelly mud myself. The local loitering chap and Tim finally got the bike out. The next two hours consisted of about 10 river crossing where the water got deeper and deeper until finally we decided that the first local was indeed right, and we couldn't go any further. At this point the water was knee high on the bike, and we were having to walk every crossing to make sure it could be done first. This, I hate to say it, was the second time this trip that I have been forced to turn back. Again, I think a good idea which was confirmed a bit later on.
After making it back through the river crossings to the village Tims starter switch had packed in due to the water, lucky for him the old KLR's have a kick start. We rode back to Lorretto to join the main highway south.
We reached the tarmac about 1 hr later. I pulled over to check the bike due to all the shaking, and thank goodness I did. On close inspection one of my chassis bolts had worked loose and come totally out! (see pic when I load it) I doesn't really bare thinking about if I hadn't stopped and had tore off at 70 round the next corner. Good example of why to check nuts and bolts, a good example of how rough these roads are, and another good call turning back.
Last night we camped up a hill off the road by about 1 mile. We are sorting out the tents and cooking some food and a random man turns up armed with a rifle! Pretty funny really as, we got talking and he had a beer with us, ate with us and we then had a shooting contest with his rifle and a can. (I wont say who won as it would be unprofessional, but lets say Mexico came 2nd) All very random but a good laugh.
Today I find myself in La Paz waiting to get a very expensive ferry to the mainland. Baja has been a great experience but in summary I can honestly say that the main tourist towns are a big disappointment, however the back roads, tracks and tiny missions in the mountains have been excellent. The cost of things is another gripe, but thats probably because me and Tim are both mean old sods who don't like spending money.
Finally the bike is still running well, but tyres are not enjoying the roads, oh and the road kill count has increased by one mid-sized peppermint green lizard, I swear he never felt a thing.

miles completed: 11,150
road kills: 3 (lizard, sparrow and pheasant)

Pretty Crappy evening- Short Entry

Last night me and Tim were walking down a road on the sea front of La Paz when we walked passed a woman and a man sitting on the bench. Clearly things arent good with the man and the woman is pretty histerical and clearly has no clue what to do. At this point I felt that it would have be unfair and maybe irrisponsible to leave the woman that no one was helping as her husband had clearly just had something along the lines of a heart attack (or something serious anyhow) In hindsight I am also very glad I took the medical course that I did before I left otherwise it would have been a pretty awful situation to be in not having any idea of what to do.
I did all the stuff I think I had been taught to do, but in that situation that I have not been in before it was all pretty hectic. To cut down what seemed like a rather long time, I gave the man CPR for a fair few minutes before anyone else bothered to help, and after a while several others bowled in offering help so in a fairly disturbed state I let them take over, and decided I had tried my best and not to hang around any longer.
All I know is that things really didnt look good.  I later found out the man died, and in fact was proberbly pretty dead when I was trying in vain to give him CPR.
Anyway, that was my saturday night. All very odd, and although I sure it doesnt sound that bad, for someone not expecting it and for some one who has never experienced something like that it was all a bit odd. I can honestly say Im glad I had been trained to some extent to at least try and help, and Im glad I did try and help rather than walk by even if the ending was a rather sad one. But there we go, I suppose thats the way things go, so I thought I should add this to my journal as it is certainly a fairly significant event during my trip.
Hopefully the next entry will be one of a slightly more amusing nature, oh and I tried to load up some photos for the earlier post but the computer just electrecuted me! I think Ill try on another machine!
 

PLEASE NO MORE TACOS!!!

Well what can I say, I think if I have to eat another taco I may very well go on a crazed rampage with one of the stale tacos they hand me every time and scure the next sweaty vendor who promises me his is the best taco in Mexico. Whoever said Mexico has the richest choice of food is quite simply a liar. So far anyhow.
I knew there was a saying that bad things always happen in threes but after the old man dropping dead on me I thought that was easily bad enough to add up to 3. But oh how wrong I was....
So there was me and Tim more than ready to Leave Baja and escape to the mainland where we hoped things would get cheaper, but also people would not be dropping dead on us, so off we head to get the ferry to Topolobompo (i think) We arrived at 9 O'clock in the evening and the ride to the town was about 30 mins, and only the second time ever I have needed to ride in the dark, and what happens, the fuse on my bike goes for all the lights. Now you might say that is bad thing number two, but oh no, this was just a teaser. I carry spare fuses, but the annoyance was having to take all the stuff off the bike in the dark, in order to get the seat off to replace the fuse. Finally this was done and we headed into town. We found a hotel after Tim dropped his bike as his foot got caught on the top (hard to imagine but easily done I can assure you, oh, and no this too is not bad thing number two you will have to wait...) So we got to our hotel and unfortunately Tims bike had suffered some damage with a part broken clutch lever and a bent gear selector, so for good reason he was pretty annoyed.
That night we went out for a quick drink in an impressively seedy bar.  After several mentalists tried to soak me to death with their drool when repeatedly asking for money and beer we decided to leave and get some sleep. The next day we left this fair sized town and here the fun begins. Straight away in the traffic we got separated, Tim had no phone and after I waited for a while he didn't appear so I thought the obvious thing to do will be to wait on the main road out of town, the only way he can go. So off I head and wait at a petrol station for 2 hours, and no sign. I am forced to head on as it seemed pointless waiting any longer, also he knew we were heading to a place called San Blas. (This was the basis of bad thing number 2... losing my friend) The one impressive thing to note, is that within about 50 miles either side of the tropic of cancer, which I have now crossed the scenery turns from desert straight to jungle. All pretty cool , but that only opens the road hazards up to more exotic things than just withered 3 legged dogs.
I spent that night in Mazatlan but still no sign on Tim, so the next day I continued on to San Blas, on the way there the final (well I really hope it is the final) bad thing happened to me, I went and bloody crashed! And yes, it really rather hurt. Lucky for me, it seemed to have hurt the bike more than me, as it is looking rather bent, but still fine to continue.
I was riding out of a small town called Rosario when (at this stage I might add it was totally my fault!) I clearly had some major lapse in spacial awareness. On seeing a rather large hole in the ground, and a massive boulder to the left of it I decided to avoid the large hole and forget the boulder. At I think about 25-30mph my right pannier hit the boulder and I did a very impressive superman impression for about 10 meters in the air, the landing I can assure you was not so graceful. And I can honestly say I am most glad I wear all my safety stuff regardless of the heat, as the landing tore right through one of my gloves, and my knee protector tore through as well.
Before you all rush out to buy seedless grapes and get well cards to post over here, I am clearly fine and with all my limbs in tact or clearly I would not be typing this right now.  All that happened to me was a slightly swollen knee and a tiny cut on my hand. As I said a second ago, the bike was not so good. The pannier has a huge dent in it, the other pannier is now more like a parallelogram shape and the frame for the panniers broke into two pieces. Also the handle bars don't really point straight anymore, but thats more cosmetic I think.
So there I was looking slightly worse for wear with a rather bent bike wondering what to do. In the end I got some locals in a pick up to carry my stuff to the local welders shop whilst I followed on the bike.
At the welders was a man called Herman (I think). It was basically a court yard with a dirt floor, an archaic welder and a fat caged pig, however Herman did a spectacular job at fixing the bike, and 3 hours work only cost me 5 pounds!
After I left I rode to San Blas, which is a small town with great surf and very few tourists. I spent 2 days there camping and getting my gammy knee back to normal. Then I moved on to Syalita just North of Peurto Vallarta where finally I met Lui. It was quite an expensive place but it was very nice to be with Lui and not camping for once. After two days we moved south as we are currently trying to get to the Chiapas region and into Central America. We have stopped at various small towns with Lui on the bus and me ahead on the bike. This seems to work quite well so far, but the ever increasing amount of wildlife that keeps throwing itself in front of the bike is quite spectacular. As always there are many leathery dogs to dodge but now I am getting lots of other things. I'm afraid I ran over a gang on mini brown frogs the other day, but in defense I didn't realise what they were until they went splat. I was also forced to dodge some large lemur type thing (not sure what it really was) and also had a stand off with a large orange crab, which on seeing me stopped in the middle of the road, raised its claws in a  ´fancy a fight` kind of way, but then realised it may loose, so ran off sideways into the jungle. All quite amusing.
Acapolco is OK but nothing special, and by Christ, riding in the traffic here is a NIGHTMARE. I never thought there would be a chance of meeting a grizzly end by being run over by 400 Beatles at one time! argh! However the cliff divers were certainly worth seeing (twice in fact as Lui got her way!)
After Acapolco I rode down to Peurto Escondido which is now where we are. This place is actually pretty nice and the nicest place I have seen in Mexico so far I think. The waves here are huge, and famous so I'm told for surfing, but only if you're any good so I am staying well away from them, they are huge! The ride down here confirmed to me that I was clearly wrong when I said Mexican drivers aren't that bad. They are terrible, and seem to get worse the further south I get. A typical example would be their use of indicators. You might think it is obvious that if someone indicates right, it means they intend to turn right. But no, not here, it could mean one of several things, either they are turning left, so indicating right to tell you that its OK to pass them, or that they think you should pass them regardless of a big lorry coming the other way, or that they are aware you are there, even so they may still run you over. Finally if you are very lucky it may mean that they are actually turning the way they are indicating. But I can only stress this is a rarity!
So anyway, three days here then off to Oaxaca the state capital then its off to Guatamala via San Cristobal. I feel this entry isn't that riveting-a-read, but what can I say, lots of jungle, large ants, dead dogs and crazy drivers. Not too much else to say. (there seem to be lots of rogue pigs on the loose down south too). Next entry will prob be in Guatemala. So me and Lui are off to eat some food that we are going to cook. The only way to ensure it hasn't been clawed by a sewage stained local chef. Oh and ill add photos soon, I just cant be bothered now.

Guns, guns, and a few more eeer.... Guns

Well as far as I am concerned I have reached Central America for sure. I am offered numerous clues to support this fact, mainly for the simple reason that every dodgy looking person has a grin on his face due to the large pump action shotgun over his shoulder and the revolver stuffed into his yellowing Y-fronts. Good example... Lui was on a bus the other day when she told me a man sat next to her and proceeded to get a hand gun out of his bag and sat it on his lap looking very proud of himself. I think after Lui did nothing but look concerned, he decided to shove the Berretta back into his stained Y's and go to sleep. What a country!
Anyhow, I think the last time I wrote was in Mexico. Puerto Escondido was at last a pretty nice place in Mexico which wasn't stupidly expensive. We stayed a few days there watching a surfing competition. The waves were huge so I decided I preferred living than trying to surf them (badly) After Puerto Esc. We carried on to San Cristobal, which is a colonial city in the mountains, and once again rather easy on the eye. The ride there was very long so I ended up sleeping in my tent in a petrol station rubbish dump, and was forced to waste away the hours drinking with a local policeman and his machine gun. Meanwhile Lui took the night bus.... what luxury!
During our stay we took a tour down a big old gorge on a speed boat. This was all very nice apart from the fact the river was choked with tonnes of.. well crap and rubbish oh, and vultures. I must admit it slightly spoiled the beauty of the place, and just sums up how the locals really cant be arsed to clean anything at all! (see pic). Southern Mexico was a vast improvement than the North. Finally the time came to leave Mexico and hit Guatemala. The border was actually a breeze. Not even a mention of a bribe. I firstly got stopped and some odd individual decided he wanted to fumigate me and the bike. So there I was standing there with me and my bottle of coca-cola getting covered in what I'm sure was some nasty stuff. After that I did all the other bits and moved on.
Straight away the atmosphere of Guatemala seemed much nicer. The scenery was great and the dead dog count was ever increasing. Other sure sign of being in CA is the amount of landslides covering the road. In true CA style they couldn't be bothered to clear them up so they just put a large twig 20 metros ahead of the pile of boulders in the road, and the answer is simply to drive round it. This is fine until you go round blind corners and suddenly notice there is no longer a road, and instead there is a large chicken bus on your side hurtling towards you. You soon get used to it though.
After a brief stop in some town not even a master speller like me can spell correctly, we moved on to Lake Atitlan. This was rather nice. Basically a big old lake in a collapsed crater with volcanoes and towns around the shore. We stayed in several places, but I had to ride round the lake on its pretty crappy road as the small passenger boats would not take the bike. This was fine, and I shrugged off all the locals telling me one stretch of the road was full of bandits. I rode round without incident, but on arriving at the last town we met a Scottish man who lived there. Without knowing I had a bike he starting telling us about the roads round the area, basically saying, 'do not, whatever you do, ride down a certain road as 75 percent of people get robbed at gun point on it' I proceeded to tell him that that was the road I had just been on. (whoops) But clearly I must have either looked to poor to bother robbing, or more likely I smelt too bad*
Anyway, after I drunk myself through the thought of almost having a 9mm stuck up my left nostril and fleeced of the one pound fifty I have left to live on, I felt fine. During our stay in Lake Atitlan I also did a bastard long zip line thing through the trees, that was pretty fun, but of course being the man I am I didn't scream like a girl, seriously, I didn't!

So Lui and I left the lake and headed to yet another bloody Colonial City. Antigua. All very nice, I must admit, but there really is only so many language students and cobbled streets a man can stand, and to rub it in there was a direct flight from L.A to here, so it was full of blimps in Bermuda shorts throwing money at any child with a bit of dirt on their face. I was well up for rubbing a bit of donkey turd round my chops to make a fast buck, but Lui wasn't having any of it, so instead we found a Burger king, of all places, and I got my chops round a whopper instead (talk about eating local)
The weather in this part of the world is pretty wet as its around 2500 metres up in the highlands, so we had finally had enough of cold wet weather and we decided to head for Honduras and a spot of sun.
Off Lui went on her bus, through Guat. City, me on the other hand headed off on the bike trying to avoid the capital city. This would be easy in a developed country, but really is very tricky here. I managed to find a round about route down some back roads, but my map is quite frankly crap. It marks local roads exactly the same whether they are the best laid tarmac (which some actually are) or just a track littered with dead dogs and vultures. So off I went over the top of a volcano to head to the coast. The road started off very nice, but after going through an utter dump of a town the situation got steadily worse. I found myself on a dirt track, riding through fairly thick jungle. Basically I had just ridden right into every muggers dream. Great. I carried on very keen not to stop, passing lots of wrinkly locals with large machetes, and after about an hour popped out where I was supposed to. A slightly worrying moment, made worse by the fact my map suggested similar roads for another 100 miles to the border. Anyhow, it turned out there was no need to worry, as I have typically found my map was totally wrong, I came out on a brand new dual carriageway. Oh I love the Guatemalan President, and his road building scheme. I think I very well may have gone mad without it that day. Finally after a few more hours I arrived at the border of Honduras near the ruins of Copan.

The border was a bit of a pain but nothing like African ones. after they said they were on a 5 minute lunch break, they started to process my documents one hour later. I thought this would be the case, so I started buttering up the local border policeman the best way I know how, basically you compliment the massive machine gun he is holding, ask him what it is and where its from, then ask if he shoots people with it. After these few questions you will normally find you are their best friend, and the rest goes smoothly.
After paying $30. (not happy, but I think it was legit) I was allowed into the country. Copan was a nice little place apart from the old muddy faced child trick being totally over-acted by some small weazely faced child. He even went to the length of putting on some worn out old sandals and tugging at my shorts for effect. Clearly after no sympathy from me (the tightest whitey in Central America) he left.... In fact I'm sure I saw him with the latest Reebok Pumps on later on that day, little bugger.
Next stop was the Bay Islands which is where me and Lui find ourselves right now. The trip here was uneventful apart from I have never seen a lorry full of coca-cola being guarded by two men with machine guns and shotguns before. Only in C.A! (or maybe the best coke in the world) A few miles from La Ceiba which is the hopping off point for the islands I actually witnessed the demise of yet another leathery, spaced eyed pooch on the road. The culprit of said crime was only going about 10 mph, and clearly thought he was doing Mutley a favour, he didn't appreciate that at the time I was alongside him, trying to overtake, and for such an malnourished pooch it didn't half make a squelching noise.
At La Ceiba I met an utter tosser at the port. Basically he was the boss, and he wanted me to give him $88 to put my bike on the boat to the islands. The crossing is only 1 hr, and the right price is about $30, but because he was such a tosser he would have none of it, so for the past four days I have been like a father who has lost his child. The bike has been parked in La Ceiba, being guarded by a man who quite frankly I would not trust to guard my old toe nail clippings let alone my bike, so if in the next post i am riding a donkey to Tierra Del Fuego it will be his fault!
Lui is off in two days to teach small children how to rub dirt into their faces and look sweet so as they can make a good living in this country from overweight tourists, so I shall find myself alone once more (letters of sympathy to e-mail address, and any cash deposits to my bank account please) In the mean time we are having good fun on the islands, I dabbled in Scuba diving and we are off white water rafting on Sunday. If only I could kill every mosquito here I may, just may stop moaning for a bit. Oh and they love the English here, the only problem is they keep assuming we are American. Bugger.
p.s I am also in the process of trying to find passage from Panama to Colombia. This is proving very tricky indeed. If only I could trace Captain Ludwig with the sea sick cat..... If you're reading this captain, leave the cat alone and e-mail me!
p.p.s Would you believe it!.... I got back to my bike on the mainland and the man who was supposed to be taking care of my bike went and cut my lock in half! (pic) I was not impressed to say the least, and he made some wet excuse up about the bike being too close to an exhaust pipe of their generator, anyway, I am now lockless and am on the hunt for a new one. Not good for my blood pressure I can assure you!
p.p.p.s YES, YES, YES WE BEAT THE AUSSIES!!!!! Come and get it you Frenchies!
Miles completed: 14,200
Road Kills: As before, plus witness to cold blooded hound murder.
* smelling bad= hazard of not washing bike riding gear....ever!

Rain so Heavy... I think Im starting to rot.

Since leaving Lui and Honduras I have been wet. Now the term wet is thrown around very liberally, especially by us Brits, but I think I may have found out what wet really means. I swear the onset of trench-foot has been a close reality. It has been pouring so hard that my kangaroo leather riding gloves have actually started to rot, and I might add, begun to support new life forms. Basically I smell, and I smell bad!

The smelling is normally a problem as it tends to repel anyone who may be a good conversationalist, however it has proven to have some really good points which I shall come on to in a bit.

So I left Honduras and headed quite a few miles of the Nicaraguan Border. This ride was Ok but with the dog count decreasing with every mile, and therefore so was my entertainment for the day. I finally arrived at some random border town to stay the night. Ate a hunk of cow nose in a taco and went to sleep.

The next day, once again the border was a breeze! So far (I say cautiously) I'm not sure what people are moaning about. Anyway off I head towards a main road between the border and Leon on the Pacific side. This main road is terrible. (see pic) So bad in fact that I half destroy my head bearings on my bike and ride the next 100 miles with the front end falling apart. I am not joking when I say some of the pot holes are as big as a London semi-detached in floor space. They are massive! And to add to the hazard they are full of water.

Anyhow, the night before I had organized to stay with someone I met who had also biked the Americas, his place is just outside Managua. I arrive there mid afternoon.

Salvador, my host is a top man, and full of useful info about the next leg of my trip. Also he also managed to fill me full of rum, so the next day was a balance of repairing the bike, teaching his employee English and trying not to vomit. I think I managed all to some degree.

I had a great time at Salavadors and it really made my stay in Nicaragua, as I didn't have much time to see anything else. The reason being is that I have found a boat to Colombia!! YES! So currently I am rushing down to catch it on Wednesday. (Ludwig, kiss my arse! clearly your sea sick cat got the better of me, and you never replied!)

I wish I could comment of the beauty of Nicaragua and 90% of Costa Rica, but with the rain I could see nothing at all. I'm sure it is very nice though, and in fact I am feeling pretty annoyed by not having time to see more of the area.

So after a good night I left in yes, more rain to head to Costa Rica and a friend of the families place. The rain is still unreal! So bad that the road keeps on colapsing, and as always the standard warning of an imminent 6ft hole the size of a two up two down...? yes you've got it, a small twig in the road.

The border to Costa Rica was the worst yet (I knew I spoke too soon!) So much sodding paper work it was a joke. By the time I cleared it, it was about 7.30 pm, totally dark and raining so as I always seem to do, I end up camping in some diesel smelling mud at the back of a petrol station. (Life doesn't get any better than this!)

The next day was a long ride towards San Jose and up a mountain to our family friends place. The drive was horrendous. More rain than ever. Please understand that after 3 days of putting on soaking wet clothes which smell much like Swampy the hippy of the Newbury Bypass I had almost had enough, until..... I get stopped by the police for speeding. Yes Evil old me is doing a gruesome 55 mph in the middle of the jungle on a main road where everyone else does 70 +, and of course I should have known the real limit was 38mph. Pah! ''yes please Mr Mendus that will be $50" says the nice policeman. I then put on my sad face (see smiling photos of me anywhere) but it doesn't work. He says I need to go to court on Tue. I look surprised (see photos of me after bad taco!.. ref Mex. sept 07) Yet again it doesn't work.....Then, my luck turns, slowly, ever so slowly the policeman edges closer to me, until yes, he catches a whiff of me. As he leaps back in repulsion I quickly point to my tent and say I have no money. This does it! I catch him in a dizzy spell, and with a look of disbelief he say ''Mr Mendus, you really don't have any money do you!?'') No, I reply, he then proceeds to rip up the ticket, look sorry for me and wished me good luck and a bath. What a top man!

On I ride in the rain for a few more hours, past a 10 mile traffic jam, as more road has been washed away and finally I reach my destination up a volcano. And what can I say! What utter luxury! I have the nicest room, a bath, oh sweet Jesus, a bath! and great food and great company. To top it off I have washed my things, dried out my clothes and beaten the onset of trench foot. And as a final pat on the back I got to see England beat France! It doesn't get any better than this, I assure you.

After a great rest in Cost Rica I was forced to leave in order to reach Panama for my boat. (Michael, if you read this, thanks for all your hospitality, it was great to see you, the house and to recover from all that rain!) It was a really long ride to David in Panama over what is a fairly short distance. This was due to about 20 landslides which really didn't make life easy on the road. The road I wanted to take had been washed away so the main Pan-Am was the only route open. Numerous times I found myself stuck behind diggers desperately moving landslide before the next one slipped down. The rain (to no surprise) was terrible again. All my nice clean dry clothes where but a distant memory.

I crossed the border into Panama with a bit of hassle as there were huge numbers of people waiting to clear customs. This was (I hate to say it) the first time I had to grease the palm of anyone, but it was getting dark so I was forced to speed up the process by giving the short fat grumpy customs man $1. And he still wouldn't smile!

Off I rode heading towards Boquete near David, to the house of Paul, another bike rider I met in Guatamala. I got totally lost on the way and it was really dark. I stopped off at a petrol station to try get directions. The owner was useless but then a bus stopped. What luck I thought, someone must know. Then the driver got out and claimed he knew where to go, but just before he wanted to leave he felt it necessary to get a bashing stick out of his bus to beat up some guy who hadn't paid. So there I was lost in Panama in the dark watching some 4 ft man get softened by the drivers bashing stick. (advise: don't skip bus fares here)

After the driver had shined his stick back up and wiped the victims slobber off it he said we could leave and I could follow. Now most people would be slightly wary of following a man who had just clubbed a fare jumper like a young seal pup but at this stage I didn't care, so off we went. The next part was franky a joke, this man had no idea where to go, I followed him down roads I knew were wrong for about 30 mins, but every time I tried to escape he insisted it was right. Finally we arrived at some hut with a moped outside it. Not at all what I wanted, but I had to look pleased and say it was right just to get him to leave. I was worried he wouldn't leave leave until I knocked on the door of the odd looking shack, but finally he pulled away. Back I ride to civilization where I finally find a phone that works. Eventually I arrive at Pauls.

I couldn't really have asked for more hospitality from a man who hardly knew me, he gave me a bed, food and a workshop to do a well needed major service on the bike. I got to meet his family and friends, and everyone was very kind indeed (again, if you are reading this Paul, thanks very much to you and your family, better than spending yet another night in a petrol station!)

The next day me and Paul worked on the bike. The first wash it has had in months was an emotional experience I can tell you. We replaced the rear tyre (tyre number 5) as well as the front and rear sprocket (which were so far gone the teeth had become curved like a circular saw!) and chain and the pads. I also got rid of the really annoying exhaust noise, cleaned the filter and a few other things. Here I finally have a nice feeling bike again.

I left Pauls place yesterday to get to Panama City. Once again I got soaked and I arrived in the city after dark. To top this off I later found out I wads in a really dangerous area, and due to this I bumped into some police on bikes. Of course the first thing they say is, wow what size is the engine! and after that we got chatting. After he told me that there were many 12 yr olds running round with guns I was more than happy to except his offer of a police escort through the city! yes, I got a police escort right into the center with lights and sirens. It was quality. And to top it off he took me via a disturbance and he asked me to wait while went to beat a few people up. It was so funny. At last I looked important and the car drivers looked scared off me.... about bloody time!

So after being lost for an hour or so more as it turned out my police escort had taken me to the wrong street I finally found a hostel, and it is here were firstly I have re-discovered the missing millions of Australia, but also I wait for my boat, which now leaves on Thursday not Wednesday. So I hope you all enjoy the world cup final whilst I stuck with captain Pugwash on his sinking tub for 5 days.

Right enough said. Next post, new continent. So here were are, finally I have completed the whole length of North America. Christ it was a long old way!

tyres used: 5

miles completed: 16,000

road kills: sorry still the same, but I'm trying my best, the wildlife is getting too cunning!

Money, No Kill!....

When you hear the words money and kill in one short sentence you know the situation proberbly isnt ging to get much better, and that is exactly what I heard when I was rudely awakened at around 3 am by a group of men supporting very large knives.

I was sleeping in my tent in a place called Portobelo waiting to board my boat to Colombia the next day. Lucky for me I had already paid the captain or I wouldnt have found this such an amusing experience.
So I was camping with 3 other guys I met who were also on my boat. You would assume safety in numbers would apply, but obviously not in this case. I was the first to wake up and unzip my tent as I saw shadows moving about. As I stuck my head out the first thing I saw was one guy with a bandana over his face holding a huge knife.

After I finished going oh shit, oh shit I then noticed the other two surrounding my tent. Then in his best english the first one keeps saying to me `money no kill´, `money no kill´. I mean seriously you have to wonder what direction your life is heading in when the only english you learn is money and kill. If I wasnt bricking it that I was going to be sliced and diced I may have tried to correct his gramma but maybe this wasnt the best time.

At this stage the others woke up and Mike (one of the guys I was with) stuck his head out of his tent whilst his mate stayed put inside the same tent. However Mark decided it best not to come out of his tent till they made him. This actually proved rather amusing watching one of the robbers trying figure out how to open a tent. He kept clawing at the sides unable to find the zip, and in the end started shaking the tent like crazy and shouting Ì kill you, I kill you´Finally Marks head popped out. They then proceeded to rob us, but again I was quite lucky as I was only carrying my `please rob me´wallet so they took that which had the impressive sum of $7 and 2 credit cards in. They got about the same off the others and left without even searching the tents where I had my i-pod, camera, sat phone etc etc. Very lucky indeed. To top it off, Mikes friend who stayed in their tent didnt even get noticed so got away without being robbed. Lucky sod.
The next 5 days was spent on a 44ft boat loaded with 10 people and my bike sailing to Colombia. This was a squeeze to say the least. Although it was fairly calm out to sea, my god those boats roll around a lot. About half of the people on board were being sick pretty much everyday. I managed to hold it down but 5 days feeling a bit crap really isnt that fun.The trip was an experience though and Im glad I did it. We caught some pretty cool fish like tuna and a shark which we promptly ate. The tough part about eating was I couldnt spend more than 5 mins in the gally without wanting to puke, so my food was always fried as fast as possible and shoved down my throat before I decided maybe I wasnt hungry after all.

Anyway, now I find myself in Cartegna, Colombia. Its pretty nice here but the paperwork to get the bike into the country has been a nightmare. It ended up that I actually brought the bike in illegally as I came in on a sail boat not on a cargo ship. This proved tricky, but with a few well placed lies and a lot of smiling I finally got it stamped in. So that was pretty much my whole birthday spent sitting in custom offices in Colombia. Great way to turn 27 hey! Today I finally sorted out the last of the paperwork, some insurance, which you would not believe the amount of time it took me. I was close to a nervous breakdown at one stage. These people choose to have lunch from 11am for two and a half hours!!! So after waitng that long they decided to tell me that actually their computer doesnt work. After a lot of shouting and moaning and almost 2 days of trying I finally have $10 worth of insurance. ARRRGH!
The city of Cartegna is very nice in the old town and there are police everywhere so in fact the place seems way safer than Central America. Tomorrow Im going to attempt to get to Medellin with is 400 miles. This has to be done in the daylight due to security reasons on the road, so tomorrow is going to be a long old day.
Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed the money no kill story and perhaps it will make you all feel sorry for the crappy areas I keep camping in! Ill post some photos in the next few days.

The Narco state

Well I am still in Medellin after about 5 days due to numerous hold-ups (of the bike breaking kind not the robbery kind) I left Cartagena for a long old ride to Medellin after deciding I wasn't going to visit the lost city. Quite frankly I thought either way the trip would be a let down. Either the city was going to live up to its name and still be lost, so call me stupid but how were we ever going to find it? And if we were unable to find it well what would I be doing for 5 days!... Or the exact opposite would happen and we would find the place; clearly the more likely of the two but come on, if someone sells me a tour to a LOST city, I really cant help but feel slightly cheated when we end up finding it just round the corner. The guide then says 'that will be $200, thank you very much' Pah! So in the end I thought I would ride the long road inland to Medellin. The ride was around 400 miles in lots and lots more rain, yey. I left early to do it in one hard slog so I didn't have to ride at night. So there I was riding down a road in this most dangerous of Countries, yes this terrible narco state riddled with terrorists and heavily armed paramilitary when I get approached by a man with a large stick in one hand, and in his other hand not a lethal weapon but a small brown puppy. He then proceeds to try and make me take the puppy with me, I was temped as I could have trained it up as a bike riding guard dog to eat any more muggers that take me on, but due to the fact the puppy was about 20 cm long I thought by the time it grows teeth I will have finished the trip.

It was at this point I decided that Colombia really doesn't deserve its reputation, and quite frankly you are more likely to get injured by being poked in the eye by one the many Colombian plastic boobs the female population seems to support than someone chasing me with a large assault rifle. This idea was merely compounded by the fact the local hustlers best move was to thrust a small brown dog in my face.

So there I was, a usual day of riding in rain, negociating land slides and generally having a rather numb back-side from all the sitting down. At one stage I reached a large area where the road had collapsed. Normally there would be enough room for my bike to get through, but the nice lorry drivers had decided they would try their best to block the road for me to. After pulling out my best Spanish and trying to impress them I asked one to move his truck just slightly to the right so I could get through, as he got into his truck I thought nice one, that was until he moved it just to the left just to make sure I really couldn't get through. What a nice man. Maybe I need to brush up on my Spanish some more!Finally I had to get the army to tell the lorry man to move his truck. I used the age old trick of complementing his gun and his country. This did the trick. 1 minute and half a mile lorry s had moved and I was back on my way.

Finally in the dark I arrived on the outskirts of Medellin. Former Home to the US governments favorite class act bad boy Pablo Escobar. Now the deal in Colombia is this, anyone with a bike who lives in the city must wear a very trendy glowing jacket with their number plate on it. I am told this is to stop hit men from going about their business of assassinating whoever looks at them funny. The idea is that although they still get the chance to shoot the target, now they cant ride off without the whole city knowing if they have a personalized number plate or not. Clearly they haven't heard of fake plates here. So I arrive in the city, in the dark without a fetching glowing jacket , only to be stopped by a military block. Before I could blather some crap in my best English accent or take my helmet off so he could see my bleachy white face he thrusts me against the bike and proceeds to search me for a gun. The biggest insult was that the little rasp who was scrabbling around my crown jewels for an RPG was about 16 years old! Felt up by a minor, how humiliating! Anyhow, lucky for me some man on a V-Storm bike shows up. This type of bike is rare in this part of the world as most bikes are no more than 200cc. Basically he first helps to calm down the trigger happy minor who is now rather agitated by the fact I have no driving licence (money no kill stole it) and persuades him to let me go, and then,what a legend, the man offers to lead me all the way to the hostel.

The ride to the hostel was intense as the man seemed to enjoy riding about 70mph between cars. I decided that if I survived the trip there I may have actually enjoyed the ride. Once we were there I thanked him and off he went.

During the past few days, as I mentioned earlier I have been here in Medellin. This is because after arriving at the hostel I discovered that part of the luggage rack holding on my panniers has broken in two. This was a problem as it was aluminium. Not easy to weld at all. It took me 4 days to get the part fixed, and I might add how really really unhelpful the Kawasaki dealer was. Once again a local came to my rescue, and again a fellow biker, the owner of 1 of only 3 Ducati bikes in a city of 3 million (told you big bikes are rare!) This guy is a legend, as is his father, so thank you Diego and family for all your help. Basically he found a welder for me, sorting out the job and made sure I didn't get totally ripped off. All for nothing. To add to this I also went to a great bike shop called Moto Angel. These guys not only helped me to fix some bits on my bike, but also gave me a free hat! How cool. So many thanks to Moto Angel as well! In conclusion all I can say about Colombia so far is that all the normal people here are so friendly it is incredible. And it is so nice to be somewhere where people want to help you for nothing in return! Really quite rare.

Currently I am holding up for another two days before riding south through the coffee district and the start of the Andes. I now have company, a great Irishman called Kev. Even though he rides a ponsey BWM GS1200, I have decided to forgive him. So we shall hopefully be riding some amazing roads in Bolivia and Peru together.

The only other things of importance to note is  that yesterday I managed to get a photo of a horse with a side-stand. Either a very lazy horse or a fashion accessory I think. Made me laugh anyhow. Oh and also I keep forgeting to clear up the mystery of my friend who went missing back in Mexico, and I keep getting numerous people asking if he is still alive rather than being roasted slowly on a spit at the local tacho stand. The story is this: Basically after I lost him in Los Mochos I didnt hear from him for 3 days. Then I got an e-mail. It turned out his bike blew up on the road out of town. He was forced to sell it and then returned to the UK a week later. Currently he is back in Central America accepting that the bus may be a better choice for him! Hi Tim.  Anyway, thats the story, and he is fine.

Lastly, I hope all who are still following my progress like the new website. I thought it time to pull my finger out and sort one out. Many hours of swearing I can assure you. Also and most importantly, I want to say a huge thank you to the massively generous donations I have received from not only friends but also from strangers and new friends I have met along the way. I will be supplying mystery gifts to all that I can, Jethro you shall be getting a small pickled Llamas fetus, you lucky boy! Seriously though, thank you all very much and I hope my rambling and moaning is at least giving you 5 mins of entertainment in your fun jobs, and I can assure any donations are seriously helping to get me to the tip of this continent. Sods law always prevails. Whenever I am totally broke something always breaks on the bike!

Cheap Fuel at last... oh and another country

Hello everyone, well as I move South I finally move away from people trying to shove knives up my nose for my poultry fortune of a few dollars, instead I have once again reached hippy country, where the malnourished traveler prances around in their hemp underpants secretly dreaming he or of course she could really accept that all they want is a bacon sandwich. I'm not sure what it is about Latin America but they are all over the place. Seriously, as soon as there are no more bypasses to live on in the South of England, it seems they have all decided to come here. But on a more positive note would you believe that I am now paying around 19 pence for a litre of petrol, and to top it off so far the petrol has gone back to being clear from the normal brown colour I have been getting used to. A great help for the finacial side of things I must say (as well as for my fuel filter!)

So me and Kev left Medellin after having a pretty funny evening out on Halloween. We rode to the coffee area and a place called Salento, and much to my disappointment were not stopped by any military blocks, in fact there were hardly any, and there was me wanting a photo op. with heavily armored locals, god dam it. So the ride to Salento was really long and very wet, which I'm sure is to no-ones surprise now days. We managed to get lost on the way and ended up riding some dodgy country roads in totally the wrong direction, not really a good idea in this country! Finally after having to turn around as the road on my map didn't actually exist, and instead driving down a road that did exist, but not on my map (I really need a better map!) we found the main road once more. The route towards the main road was covered with landslides and mud, which in fact made the ride quite fun. After seeing some incredible views of the foot hills of the Andes and me riding my bike into a drain hole we finally arrived in the dark in Salento  (I think some thoughtful person had stolen the drain cover)

Solento was lovely, really rather picturesque stuff...clouds, hills, coffee, that kind of thing. We spent two nights there and in the day visited a coffee farm with its own performing cat with a lead on which I managed to photograph upside down up a tree. All very impressive. The coffee tour was also interesting but the cat did steal the show for me I'm afraid. I learned how to make coffee from the plant to the pot, and more importantly discovered a really useless fact; that a pineapple takes 2 whole years to grow... very interesting I know, so you should appreciate the work that has gone into it next time you eat one.

After doing the coffee thing we took the bikes out without all the luggage to ride some great dirt tracks to see some palm trees. Yes, some palm trees, sounds riveting doesn't it, but in fact they are far more meaningful than your common garden palms, they to hide another useless fact, so useless in fact that I forget exactly what it was. It was either that they are the tallest palms in the world or the highest altitude palms in the world. Anyway, they were actually very cool and the valley they were in was tear-jerkingly beautiful, well maybe not quite that emotional, but it was nice. The dirt riding however was great fun, and almost won the prize for being the most fun thing that day, that was until I witnessed my mate Kev in his big heavy expensive BMW  slipping and spinning and sliding his way up a muddy hill that the lovely KLR just floated up.... ha ha ha, he needed to be mocked about it as he keeps taking the piss out of my bike for its road performance. Sweet Justice prevails.

After Salento we rode to Popayan a town which I had images of being great and lovely, but for those of you who know me well, yes I arrived and was met straight away with my now infamous feeling of disappointment. What a dull place. So what the buildings are white, that doesn't make it nice. In fact it reminded me of somewhere like Crawley, or another equally depressing town. And honestly, does the pond life thats frequents Crawley shopping center equipped with their triple prams loaded with malnourished Dr Pepper drinking brats really think that if they whitewashed Woolworth's and Argos it would suddenly be listed in the guidebooks as a quaint town? Well maybe the answer is yes, as Popayan has managed it and has clearly sold itself to the arse that wrote the `rouge guide´ as the Elysian fields of Southern Colombia purely by whitewashing their local equivalent to an Argos outlet. Maybe I am being a bit harsh, and maybe you have sensed a wisp of sarcasm in my description of the town, but firstly yes, I'm English, so yes its my job to be sarcastic, but also I am merely trying to prove a point that it really isn't all it made out to be in the guide books Yes its a town worth a visit, but there´s no point in getting sweaty palms about it.

After all that I feel I must summarise what I thought of Colombia. (this bits for you Salavador-ref, conv. to neg.) The country as a whole was, I think, one of the best countries I have visited. Although everyone says this, the people there really were the nicest by far of any of the countries I have been through. The security situation, although clearly an issue, is not one to be concerned about at all. If I were a FARC rebel why an earth would I want to kidnap a fat tourist. All they are going to do is moan and sob and proberly eat all the rebels food, and we all know backpackers have no money so whats the point in trying to get a ransom for them. But seriously what a great country The only good point about its current reputation is that it keeps the hundreds of package tourists out and thus offers a far greater insight into the country and its people without being tarnished like most tourist hotspots. Apart from the slight disipointment of Popayan (which I totally blame the guidebooks for building it up) I give Colombia a 10/10. Great Coutnry, great scenary and great people.

We left Popayan the next morning for the push to Ecuador. It was a long ride of around 300 miles but the roads were actually really good. The scenery was incredible as the Andes are quickly rising up to meet us. We stopped in a tiny town in Southern Colombia. An area which is still deemed dangerous enough not to travel at all at night. In actual fact, during the day there were very few check points and it was all very pleasant. During our stop I was talking to the woman who was feeding me cakes and biscuits for breakfast and I innocently asked if coffee was the main source of income for the area. She bluntly replies in a most serious of tones that no coffee is not the source of incomes but Coca plants, and to be more precise, Cocaine labs, she then points to a few mountains and informs me that thats where the labs are, and that they are the main source of income for the area. She also then points out that it is far to dangerous to visit, in case I felt like it!

We soon arrived at the Ecuador border. This was pretty much a breeze apart from the Aduana man (customs guy) first saying he wouldn't do our bike paperwork till 8am the next day. After complimenting items such as his bushy mustache and his polished shoes he decided that maybe he could work passed 11.45 am that day and process our bikes. After that was sorted out and we had chased the resident leper away from our bikes after he insisted he wanted to clean our number plates (in my opinion he should have been focusing on his personal hygiene rather than the bikes) off we went.

After 10 Min's I was ferociously hungry, the cake fed to me by cocaine woman was clearly not enough for a days sustenance so we stopped at a decent looking Ecuadorian restaurant. Now you must remember that I am in Ecuador so by decent I mean it doesn't have any dead dog carcasses outside the front. So we stop and the withered old crone dished up several delightful platters. The first of which Kev claims could be a mushroom soup, so I tuck in to find out that they are not mushrooms but in fact incredibly chunky lumps of artery. After a few chews I really quite wanted to spit it out, but my good manners, a bit of British stiff upper lip and the fact that said crone was looking at me like she had just treated me to the best course on the menu at the Savoy, I decided it only fair to swallow. When I had almost recovered from the chunk of cow tube the next dish came out, lucky for me Kev had the majority, but after a bit of chewing, some close examination and some extensive vocab searching we realized we were chewing on some boiled cows udders. By Christ, I mean I'm game for trying most thing but this was frankly horrible, and just the thought of me chewing on a wedge of cow tit made me feel really quite ill. By this stage the wrinkly Delia Smith impersonator thought the whole situation was rather amusing, so she was way beyond being offended, and to make up for it she was even kind enough to offer me some lumps of spinal chord to make up for the cow boob. Very sweet but I declined, and maybe it beats eating cows head tachos. In fact, I think I have eaten almost every part of a cow by now!

After leaving the restaurant feeling pretty much hungrier than before we carried on to Otavlo, a small town in northern Ecuador. To coin a great blackadder line, at this altitude without re-jetting the carb. my poor bike seems to be accelerating like a asthmatic ant with heavy shopping. Rather frustrating when speed is the key whilst trying to negotiate round the hundreds of black smoke billowing lorries. I think all will be well though as long as I don't spend the length of the Andes dealing with the whole of the delapidated ex USA school bus fleet billowing black smoke in my face.

Today we leave Otavlo to go see the equator and test whether or not that sink and water buisness does really work. I promise ill try not to be dissipointed if its a big lie. Oh also check out the quality (genuine of course) duracell batteries I found.

p.s for more pics of this post look at the albums on the side.

A bit of Jungle, then a bit of Mountian, and a terrible bout of man flu

Well at last I find my self South of the Equator. I braced myself to see if beer washes the other direction down my throat, and other such myths, but I was met with the reality that not much changes, not even the weather, and in fact the con-man with the portable sink showing gullible tourists his impression of the Coriolis effect wasn't even there to make a vain attempt to squeeze a dollar from me by showing me his swilling action.

Anyhow, nothing lost really it was a good photo call straddling some red line on a windy Ecuadorian mountain. Other than the exciting experience of crossing into the South the day also offered more good times. We met up with a fellow rider Guido, who lived in Quito. Me and Kev spent an excellent few days staying round his flat in the center of town. It was pure luxury, and a good bit of R and R time. Guido is a great guy and I had a really good time, we got to see all the parts of the city but more importantly got to drink too much local moonshine and feel rather hungover the next day.

Also Guido persuaded me to make the very good call of changing the now infamously lethal tyre I had been riding on since Panama. This tyre had almost sent me off several mountains thanks to its $38 dollar lively nature, so after finding what seems to be a pretty good tyre we have now reached tyre number 6 of the trip! Really tough riding on the road with the new one (big knobbly one) but I am seriously glad I changed it after riding the recent jungle roads.

So back to the point. Quito... So there I was after one too many shots of moonshine thinking I had a very long lasting hang over when finally it dawns on me, I am suffering the worst fate of any male on this planet, and the worst thing to happen to me so far! I have MAN FLU! Seriously though everyone I think I am out of the woods now, lots of snott and sneezing but I feel I'm through the worst of it. All that said, still feel sorry for me and donate your hard earned cash as you never know it may return with a vengeance! (lemsip doesn't come cheap these days you know!)

So I struggle on like any true Brit to see the sites of Quito. To be honest I didn't expect much, but how wrong I was, the old town was very nice indeed, some top churches to look at and to top it off loads and loads of ridiculous protests to laugh about. In the space of about 1 hour we got stuck in about 4 different protests, the best one being the local taxi drivers who were protesting at how unfair it was that legislation was about to be introduced saying that they too had to obey the rules of the road, and if they didn't they would get points on their license. I mean, honestly how unfair, the poor old cabbies in Quito may no longer be able to tare down the pavement plowing down women and children just to get to the local coffee vendor without getting points. Life is SO unfair!

At one stage we found ourself wondering around hundreds of disgruntled and of course drunk taxi drivers ranting and raving, and it occurred to me that a protest of angry cabbies may not be the best place to be hanging out. My suspicions were confirmed by the fact that there were mucho Poilicia armed with tear gas guns. (I tried to get a pic with one, but he informed me he was too busy getting ready to gas a few protesters. Shame)

So after sight seeing and protester dodging some important bike stuff needed to be done. Guido took us to various places where we could get some stuff done, which led me to my new tyre.

So finally after 3 days we left Guidos place to head for a road, well actually track the headed towards a very rarely used border with Peru. The first days riding we went down into the Amazon basin to have a look at a bit of primary rain forest. The road was really bumpy, and in fact bad enough to make the exhaust of the KLR totally fall off! Lucky for me, I am one of many wise KLR owners, who of course rarely need any spare nuts and bolts, however choose to carry some just in case! So with a bit of bashing and some new bolts I was back on the move in no time.

The Rain forest... Well,  it did exactly what it says on the tin. It was very foresty and yes you have guessed it, it rained a lot! We ended up riding some dirt roads into the jungle and ended up camping under some locals hut on stilts. He was cool about having us there but that was where it ended, he was seriously hard work to talk to. He just sat there staring at us till it got too dark to see. He then decided it a good idea to play the local Ecuadorian equivalent of Chris Moyals on the radio loud at about 3am. This ended a very wet and bad nights sleep, but began what has been a very funny, and very very tough few days.

The KLR is able to go faster on dirt due to it being lighter and of course far superior to a BMW! So Kev being out of sight behind me was normal. At one stage I pulled over and waited...and waited, and waited. This is when I though òh dear´and turned around. 1 mile back I found him riding towards me slowly. After stopping I discovered he had come off on a corner, but thankfully was OK. A few bumps and bruises and a slightly damaged bike lacking indicator and slightly re-styled panniers, but apart from that all was ok. On a lighter note however on the way back I noticed the hairiest pig I have ever seen. So much so I thought it was a sheep. Quite incredible.

After riding out of the jungle we headed to Banos, a town with of course baths in it. These baths are supposed to be heated by sulphurous springs thus offering a relaxing treat to a weary biker, however I soon became suspicious. We arrived at the baths where there was a distinct lack of eggy sulphur smells, the norm one would think for this kind of place. Instead I was met with a yellowy tinged water full of hordes of screaming children. Now this is the theory, if you mix a large swimming pool with hundreds of kids, well we all know what children do in swimming pools don't we! The fact the water was yellowish and luke warm supported my theory strongly. After a long a thorough shower to wash off the large quantities of child urine, eeer I mean sulphurous water, I came to the conclusion that Banos was certainly not the place to be having a Banos!

The next main town we headed to was Loja. This is the last town to speak of for a long old way towards the Peruvian border. Kev finally got his tyres changed so there was no excuse anymore for falling off in mud, and off we went.

The road started well but soon turned to dirt. The first hundred mile or so was great riding, the dirt wasn't too loose nor too wet so I was having a great time. It also pains me to be emotional but the scenery was great, really picturesque, huge mountains, lots of tasteful greenery and other crowd pleasers such as waterfalls etc. This part of Ecuador really is amazing, and well worth a visit.

After riding though several small villages I had a hunger for more food, the diet out here is terrible to say the least. There is dry tasteless rice with everything, normally complimented by the standard udder soup and claw of chicken. It really does beg the question what the hell happens to the rest of the chicken! Not once have I actually found enough meat on the oil saturated hunk of foul to offer enough sustenance for even the smallest of creatures, let alone enough to feed an overly lardy Westerner such as myself. 

So there I was with my strength waining and the road getting steadily worse (thats the excuse anyhow)and I managed to miss a corner in the dirt and end up stuck in a mud bank at the edge of the road. I must point out now I didn't fall off and of course I managed to direct the bike into the soft mud to prevent damage when I knew all was going wrong (yeah right!) After 5 mins or so of a local laughing at me whilst going past in his car, Kev and I finally pulled the bike out. Eventually we reached the Ecuadorian side of the Peru/Ecuador Frontier.

Dehydrated and with the energy from the chicken claw and cow gland fast running out we arrived at the Aduana for the Ecuadorian side of the border. This is required to export the bikes out of the country. This is where things started to get quite funny... This border is tiny with almost no one there, we showed up and was met by the customs officer, this guy was a legend, to start off with he was blind drunk, which made things very humorous indeed. He insisted we get photocopies of our import docs even though he didn't need them, and then wouldn't sign me out until I drunk not 1 or 2 or in fact 3, but 4 pints of beer with him, continuously saluting Ecuador and insulting Peru. By this stage he was like a small child filled with too much red food colouring, but in his case it was too much Ecuadorian Pilsner. He was charging all over the place giggling like a small girl.The next step for him was the photo shoot with him and friends (see pics) and after he rushed off to get more beer I though it time to go or we would be stuck in no-mans land between the borders, so a few more glasses of beer and off we went with the obvious tear welling up in the booze filled custom mans eye.(I'm not really too surprised as he probably sees 1 person every year!)

Finally we crossed a bridge into Peru, we left the bikes by the barrier and went to do the standard paperwork. This side of the border was slightly busier, by this I mean there were around 4 drunks sitting there clearly more interested in watching a pack of horney dogs trying to hump each other than going home to see their families. After a nod of appreciation at what good stamina the fat brown dog had, and how the skinny white one was clearly getting nothing on that occasion I think they decided I was no threat to their evenings entertainment and carried on their biology lesson unfased.

I got the passport (which means I but not the bike was in) stamped without trouble. When the woman accused Kev of having a fake passport I knew this wasn't going to go too smoothly. Finally we persuaded her that a country called Ireland did actually exist and she stamped him in as well. Then off we head to the Aduana to get the bikes imported.

We were met by some old chap who clearly had trouble writing, and in fact reading as well. This I knew would create problems. (In fact now thinking about it, I'm not sure he even knew where he was, or in fact who he was for that matter.) Finally with the help of his younger assistant and around two and a half hours he had completed about 10 mins worth of paperwork. It was now dark and really really heavy rain was on the way. It was then that Kev and I noticed the numbers assigned to our import docs. It turns out that Kev was number 23, and I was number 24. This is the number of vehicles that have passed though this border since the start of January 2007! No wonder it took him so, so dam long. Finally, we thought the end was close, he was just searching for somewhere to put our photocopied docs he had written out, when lowe and behold he found the right documents he should have used... Back to the beginning.

After a few more hours finally we were there. The confused customs man actually turned out to be quite nice and after a show of quivering lips and worried looking faces he took pity on us and let us stay in the customs office overnight. A great relief as the road ahead was as bad as the one behind us if not worse and the rain was now torrential. So we settled in to his customs office in a spare pair of bunk beds he had. All would have been great but I had to put up with a tarantula in the bathroom and worse still a pair of his skidded Y-fronts hanging in front of my bed. Most off-putting when you have that image in your head before you go to sleep.

The next day we set off after more chickens foot but with the addition of an egg this time too (I still wonder where the rest of the chicken is, I cant imagine just a pair of legs walking around laying eggs, there must be more too it, surely!)

So we ride the worst road yet, and in fact I think it took the prize for the worst I have ridden the whole trip. The rain had turned the road into deep mud, with the addition of fresh landslides and large holes. It really was awful, and not fun when your tired and have had nightmares of old Y-fronts all night. After about 60 miles of this, and just maybe going too fast for my own good I managed yet another crash. This time it rather hurt as I thought it a good idea not to move my leg out of the way as a big heavy motorbike comes crashing down. After a fair bit of pain from the pannier now squashing my leg, a hefty kick shifted the bike enough to get my leg out. No damage to the bike, and of course we all know thats the important thing don't we! I on the other hand was chafing somewhat, and have a rather sore leg. To top if off I now have a suspicious limp like I am supporting a wooden leg! A few days and Ill be good as new though.

Finally after reaching some decent enough tarmac we were in Civilization and proper Peru. We have just ridden a road feeling very tired to the next town, a big waterfall, in fact the 3rd biggest in the world. I have just got back from walking to it. It was most impressive and to top it off we were the only people there. After I clambered under the fall (738 meters or so) and Kev almost stepped on two very angry snakes who were having it off on the path (note I saved him from certain snake death!) I concluded that it was defo worth the long walk there. Tomorrow we head off to do the 400 plus miles of back tracks and mountain passes to Cuzco. All being well I should get there in a week.

Due to this momentous of trips in the past week I have really struggled to choose which photo to add as amusing picture of the week. Should it be the exhaust falling off the bike, or should it be the rotting carcass of old pig they tried to feed us one lunch time,  or maybe it should be the insanely hairy pig/sheep thing I saw? Well they are all amusing in my eyes, and worthy of being loaded up, which of course I have done, however, I know what will amuse most of my friends and I'm sure everyone else, and because of this I feel the amusing picture of the week by popular demand should be me and the bike stuck in a wall of mud after missing a corner. So there you go. Enjoy!

Note: Connection SO SLOW I can only load up 5 pics. Please wait for a week or maybe less until I find a place where I can load the rest. See pics in new album.

Stats

chain number 3! only 3000 miles on last one, how crap. you buy cheap, you buy twice!

tyre number 6 put on in Quito.

Road kill count, same as before, but I tried my best to get a monkey. (quick buggers dont you know)

Going solo once more...

Since I last posted all was rosie and well, Kev and I were off to ride some serious dirt roads all the way to Cuzco...

So off we set in the morning riding up some steep mountains on tarmac with tight turns. Every so often, with me at the front I was looking in my mirrors to see if all was well, then after one corner I look and see nothing behind me. Clearly there was nowhere to go so the answer to Kev's disappearance was obvious. With slight panic I spin the bike round and ride back to the last corner. Thankfully for Kev, and for my bloody pressure I see him standing up walking out of the verge. Yes, Kev crashed, and crashed quite hard at (we recon) around 50 mph! We really were in the back of beyond so it is SO SO fortunate that he was not seriously hurt. The last thing I needed was wounded Irishman slumped over the back of my bike for 2 hrs while I ride to the nearest witch doctor (my suspension really couldn't have handled it!)

Apart from a few cuts and bruises he was walking. This, however is more than can be said for the BMW. It was looking pretty trashed, with the front end taking most of the force. After a few hours of duck-taping bits together we haul the bike out of the ditch but it doesn't start. This is a serious problem as BMWs are stupidly complicated. It ends up that they have some sensor at the front, that if it takes a hard knock, it stops the bike from working what so ever. So we are stuck.

After much Sat. phone use (lucky I have it hey) we get absolutely nowhere. BMW are useless, but we work out there is no dealership for a very long way. In fact another country! And this particular BMW prob. needs of course a special touch from only a BMW dealership. I hate to say it, eeer actually no I don't, KLR wins over once again. Simple is good.

After a lot of head scratching and fiddling and a total lack of luck in trying to stop the odd passing truck Kev gets the bike started! Incredible I cry, as we promptly leave to head back towards civilization (hence why I have not done the dirt tracks I intended)

After about 100 plus miles we need fuel so we stop at a station. Fill up I start up, off I roll, and Kev, well he stays put. Bugger, I turn back round to find out the bike is totally dead. After a lot of waiting and thinking I finally head off in the dark to the next hamlet where the local patriarch has a Toyota Hilux. After much begging I manage to get half the village out to help. They load the bike up and drive it to the local main town Jaen. This is where me and Kev must part company. I make sure he gets the bike on a truck to Lima the next day, from there who knows but it looks like Quito is the nearest place with a dealership (500 miles away at least, plus international border) So without the time to spare off I head, solo once again.

With my route totally changed I have some thinking to do. I am forced to ride to the coastal road where I decide I shall go and visit Huaraz in the high Andes. That night I am forced to stay in some nasty little town, so I check in to a Hostel and sleep. In the morning I have one of those moments of realization inspired by a flea sitting on my arm looking at me. Yes would you believe it! I splash out $10 for a nice bed, and am woken up by a big brown flea checking if its safe to plunge his fangs into me. Urgh! This however was an important stage to get me back to camping alone after the money no kill incident. Why, I ask myself should I pay $10 to become infested when I can pay nothing and be without parasites in my tent? Exactly, back to camping it is.

That same night I'm sitting on my flea pit when I first think my guts are grumbling at the thought of another chicken foot soup. Then I realize not even my guys are that powerful... Instead its a bloody earthquake! Honestly do I have bad luck or what, first a flea then an earthquake! By the time Ive run around the room 3 times deciding what to do the tremor has stopped. It was about then that I realized I probably should have got out of the building 1 minute ago.

The next day I shower the fleas off me in the super modern electric shower, which happens to electrocute me every time I try to turn it off (so I left it running) and off I go. I reach the main road to Huarez from the North. By a main road I mean it consists of a faint line on my map. This road is awful, but at the same time great. The riding is tough but great fun and the scenery was amazing. There was me riding on a single lane dirt track with deep ruts, 1 foot to the right of me is a 600 meter sheer drop. This is all well and good until a car comes tearing along the other way. You just have to hope it happens when there is a passing spot.

After 4 hours (about 50 miles) I finally reach Huarez where I intent to treat myself to a spot of rock climbing. On the way down this dirt track I have never until now met so many suicidal dogs. I must have counted around 60 dogs attempting to throw themselves in front of the bike. In fact I lie slightly, as I think their aim was to bite a chunk out of my leg, but every time they miss and end up getting clobbered by the bike or if they are really lucky my boot. To top this off the locals were nothing shy of plain nasty. Some horrid little girl had the cheek to chuck a papaya at me. Personally I would have preferred it if she gave it to me as I was hungry, but instead it flew past my left ear and hit the grass. Apart from that there were lots of locals shouting `gringo´at me. Although I wanted to, I decided it really want worth the hassle of trying to explain the origin of the term Gringo, and explain that I am English not American. And in any case if I had stopped I only would have been pelted by more papayas.

When I arrived in Huarez feeling rather despondent about the local population, I thought to myself, well at least I have the climbing to look forward to. I went into a shop to sort it out. They told me it was too wet, come back in 4 months when it stops raining. Enough said, I leave Huarez by the main road.

As it got dark I rode up a track to find a place to camp (without fleas) I ride into someones field at the front of a mud hut, met by of course 4 more suicidal dogs throwing themselves at the bike. After they tire the owner comes out. What a great guy. He gladly lets me camp outside his house, and even offers me to sleep inside, although I decline. To top it off he invites me in for supper and for breakfast the next day into his mud and poo hut along with the whole family. Now that is what I call a real local experience. This man re-instilled my faith in the locals and I left really glad I had asked to camp there.

The next day was a real pain in the arse. I was forced to ride some of the infamous coastal road towards Nasca and finally the junction to Cuzco. Now I had heard tales of the cops being bad but that is an understatement. They were terrible, the worst I have ever experienced. Firstly I must note the sods didn't get a penny out of me. They can sense a tight arse when they see one. I was prepared to do jail time rather than leaf over a dollar!

So in about 1 hour I get stopped 4 times. Each time they try to accuse you of speeding even though they don't have speed guns and are in fact normally reading the paper when you appear round the corner. So the first two times was OK. After I told them I knew the speed limits (stupidly slow at 35 kph on empty straights) The first one only wanted to chat and get a photo together. The second one tried to get me on my paperwork but the false license worked a treat for the first of a few times that day. (I have lost my IDP and my real driving licence) The third one was a joke. He pulled me over even though I knew I was doing 35. He then acted all nice and introduced himself as Franko (self modeled on the dictator I think) He then checked all my paperwork, then after 20 mins began pointed to my speedo saying how easy it was to speed but i needed to pay. The weaselly piggy eyed Franko then calls his pal over who tells me to give him money. I bluntly refuse then telling him I was not speeding. After another 15 mins of this he knows it wont stick so he starts saying give me money for food, as he sups on a coke and chews on a chicken claw. No chance is my reply, but I say I have something for him. His face lights up as I reach into my tank bag and pull out a sticker. At this point he realizes he is getting nothing and lets me go.

Ten mins later and the last one trys it on. He pulls me over saying I was speeding. I tell him I wasn't and I know the speed limit, he then goes, no not here, my colleague was on the radio saying I was speeding earlier in a eeeerrr, he pauses while he looks at the bike, the begins again.... a eeer red bike. Thats it I have enough by this stage, I get off my bike and began telling the policeman off for being corrupt and a bad person. Never in my life did I think I would get the chance to reprimand a cop. To top it off he then apologizes for being corrupt, says I can go, and before I ride off I tell him I'm sick of being stopped, and he tells me he will radio ahead and tell them to leave me alone! Would you believe it, and I didn't get stopped by a single once the whole rest of the way. Victory to the tourist!

After I negotiated Lima which looked like a hell hole I got far enough out to camp. The whole of the coast line in North and central Peru is just desert. Almost a Martian feel to it. Initially its quite cool, but after you get sick of sand, straight roads and the immensely strong wind you really have had enough. I ended up riding off into the dunes by the coast and camped in an amazing spot right by the cliff edge down to the pacific. Really amazing, and no one robbed me for the second night running.

Yesterday I rode hard all day towards Cuzco. I went passed the Nasca lines so gave them a look. Still a bit suss that the government have paid an old man with a rake to doodle in the sand, but I was assured by the locals they were real. In fact they do look quite cool, but I could only afford to see them from a tower by the road instead of by plane, but it suited me fine. At the same time I also met another rider going North on an Africa Twin. Nice guy, hope you make it to Colombia if you're reading this. I also had one very scary moment where I missed hitting a llama thing buy the skin of my teeth at 65mph. The stupid thing ran straight out in front of me. It was pure luck that I dont have to add the llama and myself to the road kill count!

In the evening I had yet another great night camping, this time at 4100 meters. By god its cold that high up but the scenery was really great. I'm defo getting back into camping and adjusting to life on my own once again.Not too much else to report apart from loads of suicidal dogs. I am now in Cuzco which is full of tourists! I'm off to see what this waffle about ruins on a hill are all about in a few days (Machu Pichu or something like that) I assure you all that I shall be riding or walking as far as humanly possible as the prices are truly extortionate to get up there. In the mean time more bike service is needed as it seems to be burning a bit too much oil right now.

Sorry it was a dull report but I cant be robbed, fall off or be disappointed at something every time I write... Or can I?

Oh and Kev. I hope you get the beast repaired. All will be good, just be thankful I'm not practicing my sowing techniques to put your leg back on.... Luck of the Irish my arse!

Oh and finally Mr Briggs, you too have earned yourself a free mystery gift for your dontaion. Im leaning towards a cursed goats bladder, or something along those lines. Brace yourself.