Global Enduro

Mission to Machu Pichu then off to Bolivia

So I finally thought to myself it would be criminal not to go up and see Machu Pichu. However a rant is going to have to begin as the cost is quite rediculous! If you want to do it the normal way and I think the cheapest way for most people, you are forced to fork out around $70+ dollars for the Train, (where locals pay $3). You then have to buy the entrance ticket for $45 and to top that off the bus up the mountain is another $12. CRAZY! I mean it was very impressive but my god Im struggling to think it was is $150 impressive!

So to live up to my tight arsed nature I decided I can beat the system and do it on the cheap. I leave at 3pm on the bike to ride up to where the train leaves from. I get there, and after trying to get a local priced ticket and failing I decide that I defo have to use the bike to get as close as possible. To add to it I went up there with a grand sum of $65 for everything incl. enterance, fuel, food etc, so paying the normal price was not an option.

Now it is possible to take a 4 hour ride round some mountains down dirt tracks and crumbling passes all the way to a hydro electric station near a place called Santa Terresa from where it is possible to walk the 3 km down the rail tracks to Aquas Caliente (town by Machu Pichu). So I head off in the dark with the aim to camp half way. The bike is totaly unloaded with just me and me camping gear. So off I head for 10 miles until I realise of course I have a bloody puncture! 10 miles away from any town with no repair stuff. In 20,000 miles this is my first puncture and in 20,000 miles the first time I havent been carrying my tools to fix one. So dam typical. So I ride 10 miles on a flat down a mountain road with lots of nasty bends. To top it off I am going that slowly that every dog in the neibourhood sees its chance with me going so slowly am runs out to bike my legs. Lots of dog kicking required.

Finally I get back to a small town where I find a tyre man. He lives in this crappy hut in a mud car park. He proceeds to fix the tyre, but to say it was a frustrating experience is an understatement. He gets the punctures repaired (3 of them by a big nail) and proceeds to put the wheel back on without having any idea of how to do it. In this part of the world the answer to something not fitting is to hit it with a hammer. It took me 20 mins to stop him trying to hit the axle, and another 20 mins to get him to just leave me alone and stop trying to help so I could do it myself. ARGGHH!

Finally the job was done but it was so late I ended up camping in his mud car park. Now $8 poorer for the puncture repair.

The next day I was off at 4 am. The ride was a nightmare. I was told the road was tarmac but almost all of it was mud and rocks with numerous landslides.(If the loclas dont know they just make stuff up. Anything better than losing face!) I had no money for food, very little for fuel and only just enough for the entrance to machu Pichu. So after 4 hours of hard riding I arrive at the hydroelectric plant. Only to then walk 3.5 km to Aquas Calientes then after buyimg my ticket I couldnt afford the bus up the mountain so walked that too. By this stage I only just had enough money for fuel to get back so I couldnt even afford water. To add to this people in this area were so unfriendly no one would give me even a drink of tap water. Its quite amazing how mass tourism makes everyone involved really quite nasty and money grabbing. I wasnt too impressed to say the least.

Lucky for me, halfway up Machu Pichu I came accross some english tourists coming down, they spotted me drooling and panting up the hill, took pitty on me and gave me some water. When your lucks down you can always trust a Brit!

Finally I arrive at the top to be met by fast food joints and shops. I fight my way through the crowds and in I go.

It certainly is an amazing place, and the scenary is great too. I wondered around looking at the ruins but was frankly so tired I really struggled to muster up any energy what so ever. Here comes the dark side of the place and of course my moan. The number of tourists of course spoils it slightly. There are litteraly hundreds, the funny thing is that there are loads of gap year students pracing around with walking sticks they have paid far too much money for and dont even have a need for, due to this it seemed to be a serious hazard to be anywhere near them as they swing their sticks wildly round without realising it, as what a surprise at 18 yrs old their legs are working just fine without the help of 4ft of walking stick. To top off this hazzard the stick acrobatics being performed were knocking over all the old ladies who actually needed the sticks but didnt have one due to the gap year students buying them all up! Really, it got quite frustrating, so after an hour or so I had to leave, stepping over the carnage of crippled grannies with walking sticks lodged in their hip-replacements and I headed back down.

I needed to get back to the bike by 4pm as the policia guarding my bike was leaving then. So I really had to get back fast.I persuaded the bus woman to give me a free ride down the hill after I told her where I had walked from, mustered up a small tear and played the sympathy card, so that was a bonus but after that it was the long walk back on the rail lines to the bike, then a five and a half hour ride through dirt mud and rain back to Cuzco, where I finally got to at 8.30 that night. That was a 4am to 8.30 pm non stop excersise session which was evident by the massive blisters and swolen knee I was now supporting. Even the Policeman looking after my bike couldnt belive how fast I had done it. A true mission, and to top it off I only just had enough money to buy fuel to get back. What a trip!

When I got back to my hostel I had a great suprise. Totally broke and tired I arrived to be met by an envolope from a fellow KLR owner who I had met. In it I had been left a very generous donation to keep me on the road. (Thanks so much Aussie Ben, if only you knew how much that helped! See you at the bottom for Christmas)

That same night I also bumped into an old friend from the money no kill incident n Panama. So it was great to hang out with Cessar and we had a funny few days. The best parts had to be summed up by the frog smoothy we both enjoyed. This involved buying up a skinned and gutted frog from some wise old bag, who happened to insist it was good for my health in every sense, whilst telling me that she looked like she was about to drop dead at any moment and was just about hangging onto one last black fang at the front of her mouth. Somehow I felt that she either didnt sample her own remedies or maybe she was just lying, and I was actually buying a basic garden frog with no more mystical powers than a pot of green tea.

So Cessar and I headed to the smoothy stand with said frog, the woman happily abliged on purifying the frog with several delicious fruits and we the downed the whole lot. And before anyone askes no it didnt taste like chicken, in actual fact it tasted like shit! But to look on the more positive side, although I dont feel 10 years younger like the old crone said I would, I am still alive. To add to the irony she told me it was good for my lungs. The next day I got the onset of a chest infection! Rather than eating 20 more frogs to beat the bug Im afraid I went back to good old fasioned antibiotics. I am on the mend.

So the next day I left Cuzco which was actually a great relief as it did seem like a mini dysney world. Off I rode to Bolivia via Lake Titicaca. The ride was quite long and cold but no too bad. Now for the more serious side of things. At this stage I think my initial worries about the bike could be valid. I am currently buring silly amounts of oil, have consulted a friend I met in the USA who knows his KLR´s and I have serious concerns that my piston rings are failing.

Right now I have no choice but to continue and keep filling up with oil as the nearest dealer is many hundreds of miles away. When all feels lost I decided I had one option left. Devine Intervention. So on my arrival to Lake Titicaca and Bolivia I head to a town called Copacabana. Thanks to a great tip from my mate Sal I get the bike and myself blessed by a priest (Also Sal thanks for the donation buddy. It really helps and if I need a new piston I may REALLY REALLY HELP, this same message goes out to Ned, cheers buddy. Im off today to buy mystery gifts of a cursed nature)

So I find myself in the main square of Copacabana in a line with lots of locals. I am the only bike and they find it hilarious. I dress the bike with flowers and other nick-nacks, and after a while the priest arrives. Chants an bit, throws water on the bike and me and wishes me luck. Maybe the now blessed KLR will decided it wants to stop burning the OPEC oil reserves what with its religious moment and all. I doubt it though. (see Video of blessing)

So after me and the bike being blessed, lots of pics with locals, an invite to lunch with a group which I declined as I needed to get moving, I headed off to La Paz. This is where I find myself now. Trying to decide what to do with the bike as the Atacama desert and Salar del Uyni is next. Not a good place to breakdown when youre on your own. All should be fine though as the only choice is to continue.

In a moment Im off to check out this witches market, and to buy a really bad woolly jumper as I am freezing with only T-shirts to my name. Signing out from another intallment

p.s To top things off my speedo has broken. Very annoying so my milage count will have to be an educated guess. Currently I am on about 20,200 miles. Oh and I ran over a small chicken by accident. I couldnt help it I swear! whoops, such a short but meaningful life. road kill count + 1.

Sat. Nav. is for wimps

Well all I can say is that the religious moment my bike experienced must have paid off as I have made it to Chile and a bit more in one piece (just) The story goes a little something like this...

After haggling with a lot of wise old bats at the market in La Paz I managed to buy absolutely nothing useful for myself, however I did manage to find a dried Llama fetus for you Jethro. As well as the mummified llama I also managed to find myself the best map I could of Salar Del Uyuni and the Atacama desert. Not only did this take me a whole day, but the best thing I could find resembled a map drawn in the early 1900s but a blind man with no hands. This was one serious doodle of a map. But I was the best I could find so beggers cant be choosers and all that.

After much tinkering with the bike with the hope that it would survive the next week off I went to ride the worlds most crappiest.... eeer sorry I mean dangerous roads. So I got there trembling with fear. I even made sure I emptied my bladder post decent in case it was really that terrifying, and what was I met with but a pretty good road really. I'm sure you were all expecting that comment, and frankly I don't care. It wasn't dangerous, Ive seen more dangerous kittens in my day. In actual fact I think it may have been one of the safest roads in Bolivia. The only reason why it got its nickname was due to the road being the only main road between two towns, so the Bolivian drivers had to use it. That coupled with the fact the drivers in Bolivia seem to pride themselves in trying to slaughter each other on the road spells a recipe for disaster. However a new road has been built to try and streamline the killing somewhat. So all this leaves you with is an empty road full of people called Charlie and Hugo bumping down on mountain bikes, without even the slightest hope of a truck running them off the edge.

So there I was on the bike honestly trying my up-most to plough down as many cyclists as I could but not having to much luck, waiting with anticipation for the pit of crocodiles or pool of ill tempered minnows which I would be forced to negotiate. Of course as expected I found none of this. The only thing I found was the bottom of the hill and a very tidy little town. Good fun but dangerous I think not.

I may write a letter suggesting they make it obligatory to drink a bottle of rum before the decent. That way it may spice it back up again, or better still just let the locals back on the road!

After I finished riding ´the road of flower arranging´ I heading along some great dirt roads on the way to Uyuni which my crayon sketch of a map suggested was about 100 km long. Two days later, with some of the most epic riding I have done I arrived near where my map said I would.

I can honestly say that this two day ride was easily one of the best rides I have done the whole trip. The roads where truly epic and yes I love to say it, it was far more ´dangerous´than the pant soiling experience I had earlier on that day. After negotiating crazy truckers, landslides. river crossing and many many sheer drops I finally decided I wasn't going to do this road in two hours like the map suggested.

Just before I finally found somewhere to camp would you believe it but I came across a dead leopard thing (later I found out it was a Jaguar). It was really cool looking apart from being a bit dead, but clearly it had taken on one of the truck driver who had been banned from plouging down half of the Eaton school leavers on the road of death, so instead he took out his anger on a rare species. I took a quick pic for the family album and went to camp.

The next day was almost a full day of the now infamous 2 hour road (ref. child's school map) After passing through an amazing variety of climates and altitudes, included a valley full of mango trees I was really taken by this area and Bolivia in general. I got so exited by the site of thousands of mango's I finally had to stop and ask a local if I could have one. He took me to his farm where he proceeded to give me about 10 before I could stop him. I was so overcome with excitement and hunger I ate 3 at once, was almost sick and was forced to leave before I vommed all over his ripening crop. Great days.

At last I reached tarmac and the road to Uyuni. I rode that section without incident but then reached the turn off to Uyuni. I bought a spare fuel can, topped up with another 1/2 liter of oil (yes still burning lots) and off I went back to the dirt. The stuff was tough with really deep sand. I was all over the place, but after a few hours I finally reached Uyuni. What an amazing few days I had experienced and with 3 more to go I think that was just the start.

So after sorting out supplies in the form of soup and more bloody tuna I was ready to ride Salar del Uyuni and the Atacama desert to Chile.What made Uyuni a half decent place was only because I met a great couple from Belgium, (Hi if you're reading this and Freddie thanks for the help on the bike, don't be upset but the hand guard broke off when I thought it a good idea to crash. Gutted! At least we tried)So armed with my Chris Columbus style doodle of a map and my trusty compass off I went. I got to the Salt which thankfully was dry and took off.

I must admit it is very surreal riding as fast as you like (which isn't fast at this altitude!) on a smooth bright white surface. I'm sure a lot of you have been here so I wont go on, but I drove about a bit and after a few hours and deciding my map was totally inaccurate I brought out the compass I headed South West to the track I hoped was there to get me into the desert.

Thankfully the track off the salt lake did exist and believe it or not I did actually find it using a compass and the map. The problem with the salt lake is none of the tracks on the salt are accurate as each year it rains and the routes I assume disappear. I soon worked out not to trust the map for this bit. (or the rest!)

After riding the rest of the day I reached San Juan. The road there was very rocky and disaster struck. Yes I lost my camera tripod. I am still gutted and all of you be thankful you are not traveling with me as the moaning didn't stop for hours. (to myself of course) So anyway you can all be pleased that no longer will you be getting the boy band pose of me with the bike in the back ground. Sorry, I know its a shame.

I got more fuel at San Juan out of coke bottles camped in the desert and waited for the next day which I knew would be tough.

So I was right day two was very tough. It began with the fatal mistake of me asking a local the way. Of course they sent me the wrong way and I am still cursing myself for Not trusting my compass bearing I had sorted out. I got totally lost... Actually not lost, just temporarily unaware of my position (for 3 hours) But on a serious note thankfully I had a compass as the route is very disorientating and there are so many tracks all unmarked. So finally I decide to trust my better Judgment and ignore the map which is useless, ignore the locals which are more useless and in fact nowhere to be seen anymore as not even they are dumb enough to ride around in the desert in midday. And so I trust my compass. After another hour or so now riding over scrub as there are no tracks I get to the brow of a hill and see the lake I have been searching for. Rather overjoyed I bump down the mountain side avoiding large cracks in the ground and reach the lake. Here I am met by hoards of tourists. None of them can appreciate how vast and empty the area is when sitting in there 4x4s being driven about. Something I wish they did as the stupid grin on my face at realizing I am on the right route was met with I'm sure thoughts of ´who is this crazy fool´Anyway, after a few pics with the pink flamingos off I went with my trusty compass.

The rest of the route was fairly easy in terms of navigation as there are tracks to follow. but the sand was very deep in places and very hard to ride in. The rest of the day was complimented by two falls in deep sand. Not too bad but tough to pick the bike up and get the momentum up again, especially at 4500+ meters.

Second night was spent camping at another salt lake full of flamingos. Very cool birds really even if they do find it hard look manly, balancing there looking all pink with one limp foot dangling down. Anyway sexual orientation of the flamingo aside, the scenery was great the whole day, really bizarre with incredible rock formations, huge mountains and incredible colours. Now who sounds like a flamingo hey!

The last day was spent riding the last section to the Chilean border. the road was ok, in fact not too bad at all. I had to check the bike out of Bolivia so rode up to the grand altitude of 5025 metros to the Aduana office. The guy was nice but after almost 1 hour of him singing along to the Bolivian equivalent of Frank Sinatra I was very ready to leave. On the way out I saw some geysers full of smelly old mud bubbling away, very flash Gordon indeed. And off I went.

About 10 milesfrom the end of the deep gravel roads and the border I was now meeting more and more 4x4 s coming along full of tourists. All the time I'm on this surface the only way to stay ´rubber side down´as they say is to stand on the pegs. Something I have become actually quite good at, and not an easy task with all the weight on the bike. Then 1/2 mile from the end a 4x4 comes tearing along decided he wont move over, pushes me into really the gravel and BANG, I'm off, and off hard. I fly off the bike, and end up on the ground with the bike top of me (A habit I must shake off I think). The 4x4 stops but doesn't help, instead all the fools inside just stare, and would you believe it but one cock even takes a picture.

I manage to kick the bike off myself and have a very sore leg. I think I was very lucky as I think my boot was prob the only thing that stopped my leg being broken.(once again I might add) Finally the driver gets out, helps me pick the bike up. After which some wealthy old cow in the back seat of the 4x4 says to me. ´maybe next time you should stop´. I seriously would have punched her if my leg wasn't hurting so much to stop me walking over to her. Instead I said nothing. Now I may be wrong but she certainly didn't look like the 2007 dirt biking champion, and in fact she looked more like the type of person who was more accustomed to riding her range-rover to the local Gin palace and back, so for her to try and tell me how  I should be riding wound me up no end. For the record, if you try to stop fast on 1ft deep gravel when a jeep comes flying at you round a corner you are finished for sure, the front wheel would dig in and that would be it. The only thing I could do was try to ride it out and hope for the best. Next time ill stick her on the bike and drive at her a 50 mph, then see what she does. (deep breath....calm down Simon...)

Anyhow, finally I find myself in Argentina after deciding Chile is far too expensive. The one problem is that I managed to leave Chile without getting stamped out of the country, the Argentinian side didn't seem to care, but I'm a bit concerned on how to explain to the immigration why I am the wrong side of the border when I try to get back to Santiago. Argentina seems great, for me spring has finally sprung. It is finally nice and warm with lots of greenery and stuff. Just to test me I had yet another puncture yesterday in some stinky little village so I spent my evening with a tyre iron and a lot of bad language to get it fixed. Finally the job was done but I assure you I shall not be buying another Wallmart hand pump, its about as effective as asking a fat asthmatic child to blow up your tyre.

The ride towards Salta where I now find myself was very nice indeed. Great road in warm sun with loads of butterfly's everywhere. It felt like I was in some kind of Disney Production as I rode along surrounded by butterflys, I almost found myself breaking into a rendition of the sound of music or something equally terrible but the mounting levels of bug juice from all the butterfly's squashing against me spoiled the moment.

Lastly for now (I promise) another huge thanks again to everyone who is helping me out via the website, wish I could thank you all individually but I have to send out one big wet world-wide-web-kiss,(great alliteration) thanks so much! So there you go. It is very nice to be in a country where animals entrails take second place to good old fashioned meat. and where, yes at last there are roads signs! Yippee!

Stats:

Road kill: plus one more sparrow (they really are stupid) total count: 6 I think

Miles: An educated guess due to broken speedo but I recon about 21,500 miles maybe more.

Punctures: 2, chains 3, tyres 6 and finally me falling off: too many to remember!

Kawasaki to the rescue!!!!

I thought finding decent material for this post would be tricky what with entering a world where people actually pay attention to the laws of the land, drive on the side of the road they are supposed to, and even stop at traffic lights. How dull I thought, where is the fun in that, but in fact things are turning out very well indeed.

After a few days in Salta, North Argentina I decided my hunt for this illusive ´amazing´ steak I had been promised was not going to happen. Dissipointment met me at every resaurant. It got so bad someone even tried to palm a badly fried egg on a burger off as a steak to me. Pah! However the weather was good and I met some cool people. The bike however was still ailing and things were only getting worse.

The day I left Salta I tried to start the bike but was met with nothing but a small click from the starter. Now my battery had decided to give up. Normally not a problem you may say as I would use the kickstart... I do not have a kickstart, this meant I had a problem. So my friend jump starts the bike for me and off I go, but I was fored to keep going without stopping the engine as the bike was far to heavy to push by myself. This sounds OK but when you have to stop for fuel and for road blocks it is far from easy.

Finally it was too dark to carry on so I was forced to stop in a nasty little town in the desert after about 400 miles. That day I used almost 1 litre of oil. Rather a lot really when the engine only holds 2.5 litres! Too top this off I had no money, very little petrol and I couldnt start the bike on my own, certainly not what I needed.

The next day after getting a nice man on a scooter to push the bike for me I was off. So I carried on riding almost out of fuel,(which of course was a rouge guess as my speedo is now bust) finally arriving at a small town where Murphys law once more, they had run out of fuel. I soon realised the reason why there was no fuel was due to an angry mob of locals who were blockading the road into town with flaming tyres and branches, typically of course the road I wanted to use to get out of town. So to add to the fuel tankers not getting though nor was I. I tried to sweet talk them but several hairy shouldered Argi yobs threatened me with broom sticks so I retreated. I then asked the police to move them but they couldnt care less and only stood there smoking cheap cigrettes whilst sweating on each other.

So there I was with barely any fuel, unable to turn the engine off as I couldnt start it again and a road full of simpletons kitted out in dirty wife beaters whilst burning tyres. Plan 2 had to be put into action. So off I tore as fast as I could over the dust through the thinly placed bushes 10 metres off the road. Before the resident 'leader' and his minions knew what was going on I had ridden round their blockade, back on the road and off to feedom. As I rode off all I could here were the angry whistles and shouting. I answered with a merry toot on the horn and preyed my petrol wouldnt run out now.

After reaching another town where I got fuel and managed to resurect the battery for a full day of starting I was back on the road. Finally after many more hours of tedious roads and a poor attempt by a policeman for a bribe (clearly he wasnt prepared for a man so well versed in not paying) I got to Mendoza. I found the hostel that some friends I had met booked me into and it was time to relax.

The few days in Mendoza was spent in a very productive way. I was either contacting people at Kawasaki in Santiago to try and prepaire them for the slob of a man that would appear (me incase you hadnt guessed by the pics) or I was blind drunk on free wine. (I emphasise FREE of course) Being English and being broke free wine was a blessing, the hangover the next day was not. (The long forgotten curse of cheap wine Im afraid).

I also tried my hand at a spot of wine tasting with my friends, two of which have an unhealthy love for Manchester United FC I might add. So me, Sharyon (alright Shaz! ha ha) and the boys headed off on the worst bicycles in the world to sample some treats of the grape variety. It started in disaster with 1 puncture and then the first vinyard was shut dam it! After a team talk and more dam cycling we managed to drink ourselves into a good mood. I can assure you the spit bucket for the wine was not used once!

So off I head to Santiago and Chile to meet with Kawasaki and to see if they can help my now seriously ailing bike. I arrived at the border to firstly be called an illegal repeatedly for not stamping out of Chile the last time, but after I explained that it would be a good idea to put an immigration office on their other borders and not 150 miles from them, they decided maybe I wasnt an evil person. Finally I got through.

I was greeted in Santiago with loads of sunshine and lots of crazy drivers. I found the Kawasaki dealership and well the rest is, for me at least, quite frankly amazing. The people at the dealership have been incredible. I can seriously not emphesise this enough. On arrival I was greeted straight away, they took my bike in and began work without even an explination. After taking the engine to pieces Carlos the mechanic found that I have actaually broken the piston (see pic) For me, although it maybe should not have happened in the first place, (but with the fuel in Peru I am not suprised) I think it pays hugh testement to the KLR as I have ridden around 2500 miles since I first noticed the issue and the bike just kept on going.

After talking to Carlos the bike needs a new piston, the cylinder machined. On top of this I shall be replacing the tyres, the battery and hopefully the speedo drive as well. Here comes the really amazing part....

Kawasaki are doing all the work under the USA warrenty, and I assure you they are by no way obliged to do so!!! The rules of warrenty for the bike state that it is covered in the USA only (place of purchase) so for them to help me out they way they have is incredible and has quite franky enabled me to carry on my trip as I by no means have had the money to pay for the repairs. LEGENDS!!!!! (I must stess this is NOT THE NORM but I assume very kind Crimbo generosity by Kawasaki.... later examination of the piston discovered the damage to be bad fuel causing piston knock.... advise to others... dont go to Peru as they have shit fuel, * not a realistic option I know* or dont work the engine too hard if you hear it pinging)

So the weather in Santiago is very nice indeed, I currenty have a bike that has been rebuilt and this leaves me a whole 10 days to get to Cape Horn,(not actually that easy!) If I dont get there in 10 days it will be a really fun old Crimbo in a tent in Patagonia by myself. I really cant wait! I plan to leave here on Saturday if all goes well, but of course there is no rest for the skint biker as I am now on a misson to try and get me and the bike back to at least the right side of the world, with the ideal being Europe, for as cheap as possible.

The only way to achieve this cheap price and I can assure it is not really that cheap is to take a cargo boat back with my bike. Its therefore looking more and more likely that I shall be on the high seas via Africa for 24 days in order to get home! Does the ridiculousness of this story every end you may ask. Well who knows, as I often ask myself the same question.

After this passed week and the help that Kawasaki are currently giving me I cannot offer enough thanks. I really would have been stuck without them. Also with regards to me trying to get home on the cheap, if there are any wealthy eccentric types reading this (English landowners you normally fit this descripton) And you really dont know how to spend your large piles of money. PLEASE whatever you do dont bequeeth it all to your pet cat or for that matter your faithful labrador, thats just dumb. Instead you may want to help me to get home without having to scrub the decks of a cargo vessel for almost 4 weeks. Feeling tempted? well you should be, swill down another pink gin and get on paypal. You will be assured a free bottle of Bombay Saphire if you do.

Again please let me stress the help I have recieve from Kawasaki, you may all think I am on their pay roll, but no you are wrong, I wish I was. I really mean this, Kawasaki, especially the Santiago branch you saved me! A special thanks to Rodrego Nuno, Eduardo and Carlos. You were all great and a credit to your company! Many Thanks!

This is me signing out once again. Next post somewhere between here and the bottom of the continent.

MISSION COMPLETED-I have reached the finish!

By Christ that was a long way, Im sure if someone had told me it was going to be tougher than a commute on the Northern Line I may have reconsidered, but when my friend Geoff suggested it as a good idea after a few ales I forgot to check the distance. (Yes Geoff I blame you whole heartedly)

Anyway, here I am a tad after over 25,000 miles, 8 tyres, 4 chains, 2 and a half sets of brake pads and 2 pistons. I now find myself in Ushuaia the most Southerly City in the world. It also so happens that I am camping right next the what I assume to be the most southerly rugby club in the world so I shall certainly be taking a pic of that for the Rugby Club at home. Im sure I could quote plenty more stupid stats regarding the trip from top to bottom, and no doubt after 10 or so beers I shall, but for now this is the story from Santiago down...

After asking a few veterans of riding how long it would take to get to Ushuaia they said that 10 days was possible but it would be a serious mission. Clearly I took this too much to heart as it took me 5 days which included a minor detour of 370 miles and a spot of sight seeing as well.

I rode like a man possessed for about 450 miles the first day which was not easy after 3 hours sleep, also I was trying to run the bike in after its rebuild. So with no more than 55 mph on the speedo it was a long long day, but the road was a very agreeable dual carriageway so all was well. After the first night camping I rode to Puerto Montt where I was stupid enough to trust what a toll booth woman told me and ended up riding the wrong way for almost 200 miles! Silly, yes however I did realize this issue but thought I could use it to my advantage by getting the boat from a place called Quellon on the island south of Puerto Montt towards Chaiten where I could ride the carretera Austral. So I got there to be told I missed the boat by about 8 hrs but I could go back to Puerto Montt and catch it there the next morning.

Off I ride feeling pretty annoyed, leaving the town, and a heap of dead pooches splattered on the road. I think some kind driver must have thought it more sporting to kill a whole group of socializing dogs rather than choosing to delay his journey by 20 seconds and stop. I carried on back to the short but expensive ferry back to Puerto Montt and finally arrived at 10 pm. A total waste of money but the guard at the ferry port said I could camp there for the night, so I set my tent up in the managers parking space.

The next morning I sensed victory, and when 9 am finally arrived I went in to get my ticket only to be told the boat was full and I would have to wait 2 days! ARRGG! I could stand it no more... Off I went all the way back to the crossing to Baraloche in Argentina.

I am quite glad it turned out that way as the road to Baraloche and beyond was very nice indeed. Great views of snow capped mountains and a seriously pleasing assault on my nose from all the flowers by the road. This new smell was quite incredible to my senses after many months of smelling the standard waft of road kill and stewing carcases. It was a very nice ride indeed.

After my second oil change in as many days due to the new piston and the miles I was covering I was ready for the long haul South. On reaching the famously windy Ruta 40 I realized that yes it is indeed some what gusty to say the least. This was not too much of an issue on the tarmac but the gravel later on did not mix too well with those mean old cross winds.

The next few days all seemed to merge into one really. There was a lot of riding and a lot of wind, occasionally complimented by an Emu or an Armadillo throwing itself in front of the bike. The Emu are particular amusing. They really do look like that puppet that the entertainer Rod had his hand stuck up all those years ago, but they certainly didn't seem to have the same balls Rods pet Emu had when attacking Parkinson, instead they just flapped about madly and often ran in front of the bike.

Armadillos on the other hand are much quicker than I imagined. I tried to chase one to get a photo but the little sod was too fast for me, then again I would run fast if I had some unsavory looking slob in bike gear was chasing me.

One section of Ruta 40 was a long piece of gravel, apart from that I was surprised at how much tarmac there really was. Even the gravel parts of the road were very good. The only problem which faced me was where the cars had pushed the gravel into deep lines made it very tricky to ride in. Clearly I would therefore not ride in it, but this is where the wind came into its own. With one big gust whilst riding 60 mph you may not have any choice whether you were going to end up in the gravel or not. All told though I made it through without any falls.

After the 3rd night camping I got to El Calafate and went to see the Glacier there. Well all I can say is that this Glacier was seriously impressive and well worth the entrance fee. It blows the Alaskan ones out of the water (no punn intended!) It was certainly ranks high up amongst the most impressive things I have seen on this trip, and unusually for me it lived up to what was promised to me! The sheer size of it, the creaking and crunching as well as the chunks falling off where really cool. I think I may be right in saying it is one of the last advancing glaciers in the world (I may be wrong though) at 2 metres a day! Quite swift hey. 

After a bit of sight seeing I headed off South once more, but for the past few days I had noticed my chain becoming stupidly loose, and only after 1 day post adjustment it was almost coming off once more. Next new chain I fear. So finally after another cold night road side camping I arrived at a main town and bought myself a new chain. More expense, but I fitted it and headed off towards Ushuaia.

All was fine but the borders were a pain in the arse. Basically I had to leave Argentina to enter Chile to then leave Chile to re-enter Argentina. Each time I had to do all the paperwork required for the bike. What a pain, but finally after this and a small boat crossing I was on Tierra del Fuego and on my way to Ushuaia.

I couldn't help but get the feeling my bike had finally had enough as everything seems to be dropping off it now. I have lost my flip-flops, my cooking pot and then one of my panniers half fell off. Luck for me I have many spare nuts and bolts from previous minor technical faults, so ten mins and I was off again.

Finally at about 8pm on the 21st December 2007, I arrived in Ushuaia! YES!!!!!! In my mind I expected some kind of great celebration, but clearly reality is very different. After a few pics by the sign I found my campsite and have set up camp for 5 days before I leave on the 26th for Buenos Aires where I catch a container boat back to Europe on the 8th January.

Before you all cheer and clap at this being the end of my posts, I am afraid there will prob. be 2 more to come. (If you're lucky!) One for the trip to BA, and maybe another to let you all know if I sunk or got sold into white slavery.

Sorry this post insnt too gripping but frankly I am very tired and need a Crimbo sleep.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE.

Finally, the End of the End

This shall be my last post for this trip. Before the tears well up in your eyes just think what a load of crap I normally write, and that you reading my blog each week for over 28 weeks during work hours (we all know you have been) has probably cost your company a fair amount through unproductive work time. Now I whole heartedly approve of this, what is life without pointless websites you can access whilst at work, however I'm sure your company does not feel the same. Because of this, from now on I take personal credit for the mysterious increase in productivity in your office of at least 30 mins per week now that I have given up writing this rubbish.

There is of course one exception to this being the last post and that will be if something amusing and unfortunate happens to me in the next few weeks that will make you all smile. Of course I hope this isn't the case but I'm a team player and always happy to break up your next Monday morning with a final chuckle about how some misfortune has come my way. We shall see.

The situation as it stands is a tricky one. I have now whittled my options for returning to Europe down to two. I either catch this cargo boat, which means I will probably end up on the back of a 1982 Toyota Hilux somewhere in Sierra Leon for a few weeks polishing the militias large caliber machine gun, fun yes but work would never believe that one when I turn up 2 months late. The second option is to sell the bike here. A filthy thought I know, but being financially embarrassed as I most certainly have come to be, it has to be considered. I have 2 days to make my mind up so any intelligent thoughts on why I shouldn't sell would be worth hearing now as I need some guidance on this matter. If I do end up selling it will not be easy and frankly I may be even more distressed than when my pet hamster committed suicide by hanging. (another story, it hurts to remember) But money is money and I need some fast so I must forget my sentimental side as well as the images of Peanuts hanging from his wheel and man up. On the 3rd of Jan I shall have decided.

Anyway, back to the point which is the trip back north the Buenos Aires where I find myself now. Crimbo in Ushuaia was fun, but camping was not. I was very sick of it by then. Also I knew I should have worked harder at my German when I was at school as I was one of very few who didn't know how long a boiled sausage should be cooked for and also one of the few who couldn't speak the lingo, personally I blame the fact that I forgot what apple-juice was in my GCSE oral. Anyhow I survived as they all spoke very good English. We ate lots of food thanks to a master chef from Holland and I tried my best to fly the English flag by drinking as much as possible.

Apart from the Christmas fun I also rode to the final sign at the end of ruta 3. Got the pics done and rode back again. During my time in Ushuaia I met some great people with many different stories from dodgy places round the globe. Always great to hear, and fun to meet others with the same interests.

Finally after 5 days enough was enough, so me and the Welsh contingent I had met there headed off on the 26th to get to BA for new years. The was by far the classiest motorcade formed for quite a while as it consisted of not one but two KLR650s. We must have been the envy of all the, eeerr well Llamas and Emu on the way back, as thats all there was. There was one amusing moment at the border coming back into Argentina where the guard clearly wanted a bribe after spending too much on his nagging wife over Christmas so demanded I show him my insurance. Yeah right, insurance, of course I have it, was my response really hoping he would say, OK, great now you can go. Instead he demanded to see it. I went out to my bike pretending to get it, but really not having any clue what to do.

Finally I found a letter in English that looked no more official than a piece of junk mail. I took it in and as confident as I could be handed it to him. It had no evidence of being related to me or my bike or in fact insurance, but I just preyed he couldn't read English. After 5 Min's of scanning the letter as if he was some Oxford Scholar he says to me, `is the really your insurance?`, `yes of course it is` I say trying not to sweat on his nice polished desk. He then goes and asked a few more police, but lucky for me the only English they know is the word bribe, so he had to accept it. He wasn't best pleased at all. but after I got a bit stroppy with him and told him he had to give me the stamp as I had insurance the job was done. Quality blag!

Once again I was committed to riding silly distances to get to BA in 5 days. Clearly we managed it, and even got to see the Welsh Colony on the way which I must admit I really quite enjoyed. I even sampled a cup of fine tea and some Welsh cakes at some posh tea room. Still I'm not quite sure why they advertise Welsh tea as a specialty as I have not come across the rumor that the Welsh are famous for tea before, and nor had my Welsh friend, but hey there we go. The tea was good and the cakes were even better.

I wish there was more to say about riding up Ruta 3 to BA but frankly it was duller than... eeerr, well its duller than sitting at a desk for 8 hrs a day, 5 days a week pretending you have an important job to do, whilst instead reading travel blogs, but anyway there were more Emu and Llamas to see, and in fact we came across one llama that had got into a fight with a car, and clearly lost as it was dead, but I'm pretty sure the car was rather dead as well with its whole front end smashed in. Luckily the occupants were OK but clearly wished they had fitted some form of Llama bars to the front of their car.

Slowly we reached our destination, and with that the ques to the petrol stations became longer and longer. It was misery having to wait at least half an hour to get filled up to then be told they had just run out anyway. Every now and then we would reach a station with no que, where I can only liken the feeling of joy at not having to que as a similar feeling one gets when you actually find a Ginsters pepper steak slice for under one pound in a UK petrol station. Sheer joy, I'm sure you will all agree, but sadly becoming a rare find!

After 4 nights in a tent with no shower and a chain which was literally falling off the sprockets, we arrived in BA. What a relief to be here, first things first I had a beer, or course. Then met up with Irish Kev, the man who liked crashing into hedges way back in Peru. Interestingly he decided to crash again in Peru post bike repair, but he is fine and is now here waiting, yes you have got it, more repairs and more BMW parts!

I now find myself unsure of what to do for new year but hanging out with an Irishman and a Welshman, we have yet to find the Scot though, but Ill make a point off approaching every pasty looking male in a street fight tonight, and ask him if he is Scottish and would he like to join us.

But until then I have cleaned the beast and fitted new sprockets and chain. I even have a buyer lined up, so seriously if anyone can think of a good reason why I shouldn't sell, and bring the beast home then this is your chance to persuade me.

Thanks EVERYONE for following my progress, it has been and epic trip, and I have so many lame stories to tell my friends in the pub at home they will hate me. (At last I can put the badger story to bed boys!)

Finally a huge thanks to everyone who has helped me out over the past 7 months and 1 day from leaving Anchorage to arriving in BA. There are too many people to thank so don't cry if I forget you, but thanks to everyone who let me stay for free at their place, including Don and Kirsten in Smithers, of course Jeff and Danial in Victoria (Ill be waiting for you both to show up in England soon!). Random man in Oregon, the Hodder family in Seattle, Kats friends, and how can I forget Bob and Jon! San Fran Bob, the T-shirt is still with me mate, and its the cleanest one I have! cheers buddy.

Also great to have met the boys at flying, I think I have forgotten how now so I shall expect free lessons soon (yeh right) Sierra I hear you finally have a job where you need to get out of bed before 4pm. Life's a bitch hey! Tim I made it mate, and I even stopped once or twice for a piss and a spot of food. I'm sure you owe me a pint when I get back, and I told you the KLRs rule.

Michael thanks so much for the hospitality in Costa Rica, it was nice to see the place, watch us win at rugby with a fellow Brit and dry out after being wet for 3 weeks!

Salvador and Guido thanks so much for having me stay when I rocked up out of nowhere. It was great to hang out and I think you should come the the UK very soon so as I can fill you with warm English beer with bits floating in it.

I never thought I would be saying this, but also a huge thanks to Kawasaki for all their help. Especially Kawasaki CIDEF in Santiago. Rodrigo and everyone there, thanks so much. I would have been stuffed without your help.

Well there we go, I hope I haven't forgotten anyone, if so I'm sorry. I have to say another huge thanks to everyone who has donated towards my trip, it really did make it possible to continue, you should feel proud, its not often you see such generosity. And finally thanks to all the people who have been reading my site and keeping an interest in the trip. Its great to know someone is reading it, and as I said it feels even better that Ive managed to use up some of your boring day at work. Africa shall hopefully be next.

THANKS EVERYONE!!!!! and happy new year and a that crap.

Simon

Until next time..........

Epliogue (Kind of)

Well I couldn't possibly leave my last post with the question of whether me and the bike made it back to blighty or not. So I thought it only fair to let you all know (I can tell you were all SOOO concerned! Ha!).

Finally after much deliberation on how to get home and whether to sell my bike not, I decided I was far to  much of a sucker for nostalgia and of course stubborn and could not tear myself away from my beaten up KLR. Therefore I decided the way to finish off the trip was a trip home on a cargo boat.

On the 8th January I boarded the Grand Brazil cargo vessel in Buenos Aires, with a slight tear in my eye, not because I was leaving, but because I now have a depressingly large credit card bill to pay for this boating luxury off we went.

The boat sailed via Paranagua, Santos then over to Dakar up to Hamburg and finally Tilbury and home. In all it took 24 days. I was on a Swedish registered vessel with Philippine crew, and everyone seemed very pleasant which was a relief as I was the only passenger so the onset of insanity was very real consideration what with having to talk to myself for over 3 weeks!

I don't have too much to report on Santos and Paranagua. Nice enough but after a quick look round I was done. Rio was really nice, and I found the energy to have a look round the city to see all the usual stuff. On the way back to the port I ended up getting hopelessly lost, and in true ME style I ended up in a Favella near the port. Now my Spanish is OK these days, but my Portuguese is non existent, but lucky for me the word for Kill and Dangerous seem to be very similar, so my suspicions were mildly aroused by various weathered locals clawing at me blathering these words. All was confirmed when a Hilux topped up with heavily armed police went tearing past. At this stage I decided if I wanted to continue floating across the Atlantic it would be best to turn around and find another way back. Finally after a few failed attempts I managed to find a fairly safe looking road to the port entrance, but having thought about it some more, what serious disappointment any mugger would have felt having risked robbing me for my life savings of $1.76, so maybe I was worrying for nothing.

The trip to West Africa was a good laugh as the Sun was out and with bugger all to do I could concentrate of trying to build up the ever illusive base tan that seems to be required of anyone who wants at least someone to believe they have been abroad and not in the pub round the corner for 8 months. With this in mind the week to Senegal went by very nicely, complimented of course by the Karaoke that the Filipinos seem to love, and with my singing voice I'm sure they were all desperately jealous! Also how could I forget the Olympic size pool (actually it was a large bath tub with salt water in it) and of course the Gym (1 broken exercise bike)

The arrival in Senegal was great. I must admit I have a soft spot for Africa and all that seems to go with it, so with my return to Senegal I found many things quite endearing. Namely the important observation I have made regarding cats...

Now something suspicious is going on here. In South and Central America there seems to be a huge shortage of mangy cats but plenty of dead dogs, whilst in Africa it has always been the opposite (maybe the cats are more streetwise). I got off the boat and walked into central Dakar and noticed straight away the huge quantity of cats that by now I wasn't used to seeing. It seemed that every dustbin was some sort of cat manufacturing plant, with a steady stream of felines tumbling over the top and onto the street. Of course they all come in the same spec, which is generally mangy, somewhat leathery with a kind of stringy appearance and of course fitted with an impressive yowel. (If you look hard you can find some fitted with special options like 3 legs or no tail, but I must stress this is a rare find)

After giving this some thought (clearly cabin fever was getting to me) the idea of shipping out the yowling moggies to the Americas in exchange for heaps of squashed dogs seemed a fine plan and would sort out that un-natural imbalance which seems to have occurred. Definitely an export West Africa should be proud of I think.

Anyway, after stepping over numerous heaps of leathered cats I decided Dakar has little to offer, which might be why I didn't bother going there last time! However in my truly energetic state of mind I managed to make it to the Island of Goree where the slaves were sent to the Americas back in the day. This I can honestly say was a trip well worth it. Amazing history and interesting architecture which was accentuated due to the dump that is Dakar right nest to it. To top it off it still has the cannons and gun emplacements from world war 2 in position. I even met some guy who slept inside the large bore cannon at the top of the Island. Great view out of the breech but maybe a tad claustrophobic I felt.

So I left Africa that night, but it was great to be back for a brief visit, and it also confirmed the fact that I would love to ride the beast down the East Coast as soon as the bank manager gives up on the idea of taking my knee caps in payment for this trip.

The week up to Hamburg was pretty dull really as the weather turned and the base tan soon fell off after all that hard work doing nothing the previous week. I must have watched about 40 DVDs a with slight concern that I was going to turn into Barry Norman protege (English Film Critic) if i watched anymore, it was with great relief that I arrived in Europe.

Finally on Friday the 1st of Feb I arrived in Tilbury by London. Great to be home but by god its cold. We sailed in to port in 80mph winds which was fun as I almost got blown off the deck, but of course with a few tins of salted fish my Swedish captain found the energy to steer us home in one piece.

Finally my bike cleared customs that morning without any duty to be paid (quite right too!) and I now find myself back in cold old England with the gripping excitement of spending the next 35 years in an office. (Next major landmark in my life: retirement) So times are good as I'm sure you can all imagine.

Anyone who wants some sensible info on the container home and getting foreign bikes into the UK, send me an e-mail and Ill try my hardest to send you a sensible reply. So thats it. I'm off to find a pension plan and a tedious after work hobby that costs nothing (train spotting seems to fit the requirement)

Keeping positive as always...

bye.