tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24288589672184874512024-03-12T23:56:48.027+00:002008: A Motorcycle Odyssey<br>
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<b>2008: A Motorcycle Odyssey is the realisation of a dream that has been a long time coming. That dream is to travel to as many countries, see as many different cultures and to enjoy their local cuisine all with only what I can take on the back of motorcycle. This blog is a documentation and a public diary of that dream.</b>ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-68199021806925261282022-11-14T15:25:00.001+00:002022-11-14T15:25:51.986+00:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div>We left you in Quito just after Heathers return and we started heading East towards the Amazon Rainforest. We headed out with a goodbye to Diego and a massive thanks for saving the bike and we hit the road. To begin with we climbed up into the mountains to about 4000m and as we crested over the pass and around a corner we find 5 bikes parked to the side of the road looking out across the valley. Seemed like a good time to stop and chat so we said hi. They were from Canada (Seriously, why are all the Canadians running from the homeland?) and had hired bikes to ride around Ecuador for 2 weeks. Turns out we were headed to the same town so we joined the group for a nice ride to Misahalli. When we arrived in town they told us they were booked into a hotel close to the river so we decided to follow to see what it was like and if we had time would stop for a drink or two. Best laid plans.... I think we might stop making plans beyond the next 30 seconds.</div>
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The road quickly turned from tarmac to dirt and gravel, followed by a few flooded streams. Nothing major but I quickly realised it wasn't exactly going to be a short ride back to town. Everyone was enjoying themselves and getting good photos. We arrived at the entrance to the hotel about half hour later but there didn't seem to be anywhere to go. A groundskeeper (already too posh for us) pointed us down this thin path heading into the jungle so of course on we go. There was a rickety wooden bridge spanning a small river, the others went over first and Heather and me brought up the rear with the heaviest bike. Can you see what's coming? Yup! We smashed through 3 planks of the bridge and we're left sitting, perfectly upright, wheels about half a foot lower than they should be and the bike balancing on the bashplate. Well someone had to do it right.</div>
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After destroying the bridge and our only exit we were resigned to staying the night in a slightly over budget hotel. No problem though it was nice enough and right by the river. We hung out with the Canadians, shared stories. Frances knew more about my trip than I did as he had managed to find this blog and read about it.</div>
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The next morning it was time to head south. The group kindly offered to pay for our stay at the hotel which was super kind of them. As you know we'd been freaking out about money and every little helps. So after a few repairs to various bikes we headed out across the newly repaired bridge, through the river crossings (One splashdown) and back onto the road headed to Ba<span face="arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.12px;">ñ</span>os. Ecuador's mini Switzerland.</div>
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We headed out as a group and as we got closer to Ba<span face="arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.12px;">ñ</span>os we headed our separate ways. With only two weeks they had a lot to see and we didn't want to intrude on their time together. We followed a bicycle route around the mountain which went through waterfalls and had amazing views of the Ba<span face="arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.12px;">ñ</span>os valley before reaching the town. The town was honestly a little Switzerland. Wooden cabins and swiss restaurants everywhere. It was just before Christmas and there were decorations all over the place. Really pretty. It's also a good base for adventure tourism so after some deliberation we picked canyoning to have a go at. Canyoning is basically abseiling down waterfalls, so donned in wet suits and hard hats we went for it! Six waterfalls in total to go down. Us beginners taking our time and gently lowering ourselves over the edge whereas once everybody was down the instructor would dive face first over the edge and run down in about two seconds. All good fun.<br />
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With time getting short we headed to Chimborazo, Ecuador's highest Volcano and also the highest mountain measured from the centre of the earth. We had been told there was a campsite you could ride to and camp for free at 5000m. Gotta be done so we headed out early. The physical shock of going from tropical mosquito infested rainforest up to 5000m is immense. As we climbed the volcano it rapidly got colder and wetter. We hit the cloud line and carried on, eventually we hit the snow line and carried on. at around 4600m we finally found the entrance to the national park. Cold wet and mosquito free (yay) we pulled in to find they were closing for the night and they didn't really want to let us in. They soon realised turning us away into the freezing night might be a bit mean so they put us up in a dorm room normally reserved for staff or school tour groups.</div>
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We shared a beer, made a dinner of whatever we could find in the panniers (we'll be down to chewing on fake leather boots one night I swear it), harassed some llamas and wrapped ourselves up for a cold night super glad to not be in a tent. Really worth it though, in the morning we woke up to this:</div>
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We left early and headed for the 5000m mark, one to test the bike and two because it was awesome. Bike ran fine up to 4800 where the road ran out. She wouldn't win any races but then I could barely walk and breathe at the same time so I can't exactly say anything. We continued on foot to 5000m stopping every 100m or so to catch our breathe and dump our jackets that we would pick up on the walk back down. Eventually we reached the refuge and true to form it was cloudy. We managed to get a few good photos from the breaks in the cloud before walking back down and starting our run for the Peru border.</div>
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We hit the road running over the next few days and made a strong push for the border. We even managed to overtake Andi and Ellen after a cockup with the GPS sent us down the wrong road to the coast instead of towards their hotel in the mountains. No Biggie, I was sure we would see them again and even if we didn't it'd been a good run for a few months.</div>
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I managed to navigate to the worst city on the planet, it was like being back in India but with none of the charm. tuk tuks and trash everywhere. The hotels had no parking and there was no way we were going to leave the bike on the street so I managed to find a "motel" that charged by the hour..... cost us $20 for the night in the dingiest little room you've ever seen. I'm pretty sure bank robbers get better accommodation at her majesties pleasure. bugs mud and god knows what else, we were glad to leave and made it to the Peruvian border the next day feeling slightly less clean than ever before (and that's saying something)</div>
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ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-27105777956720984022014-02-09T15:02:00.001+00:002014-02-09T15:02:31.484+00:00Motorcycle not included, a post about the Galapagos from Heather<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I'm usually pretty adamant about just contributing photos to this blog but seeing as Oli wasn't around for the Galapagos bit I'll do the writing thing too. Hear it goes...<br />
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I WENT TO THE GALAPAGOS AND IT WAS AWESOME!<br />
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Knowing I'd be in the right part of the world to visit these islands it had been at the back of my mind to try and get there during the trip. But since it's such an expensive place to go and our trip isn't exactly a brief one I assumed it wouldn't happen. When Oli announced his ideas to rebuild Janelle's engine in Quito himself, the idea of waiting in a hostel room for that to happen immediately sent me to the travel agents.<br />
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The money involved was still a worry. At this point it would be the difference between going home with some level of financial independence or going home flat broke to live with the parents indefinitely. So being a biologist and it being the Galapagos I obviously opted for the latter (hi mum).<br />
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I'll tell you how I did the trip and then give you some top tips for things I hadn't considered when doing the Galapagos on a budget. After asking around numerous travel agents I came to the consensus that they do generally all offer the same things. it's always worth asking around a few but there was no huge variation. I wanted a trip that would leave within the week and be a budget option. All travel agents came back to me with the same boat tour options and hotels for the same price so it was just a case of choosing the people I liked best. I chose Shine Galapagos, a small company with two very nice ladies sat in a office doing all their work over the phone rather than online. I don't know why but I found them endearing and they clearly wanted to find the best trip for me.<br />
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On the Tuesday I went shopping for a holiday, booked on Wednesday and left on Friday. I would say that in general it rarely pays to book in advance in Latin America. We've never been unable to do an activity because it's been overbooked but we have met people who have payed up to double the price for booking in advance. That being said if you have a limited time on holiday you're quite right to get your time organised in advance.<br />
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I booked a 5 day tour on a small boat (10 passengers) called The Flamingo. Flights to the Galapagos from Quito are a standard $480 for foreigners (cheaper for citizens of Ecuador) and the park entrance fee is $100. So before you leave the airport you've spent $600 that can't be avoided. The 5 day boat tour with meals included set me back another $700.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Escaping the mechanical worries</td></tr>
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On arrival in San Cristobal it turns out the airport hasn't actually been built yet, so after showing my passport to a nice man sat on a bench and handing over my $100 entrance fee I was greeted by Alfonso, The Flamingo's tour guide. We went quickly to the boat where the rest of the passengers were waiting, on the way passing about 20 sea lions lounging around on steps/boats/pavements in the harbor area. I was utterly amazed by what nobody else batted an eye to.<br />
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We boarded the Flamingo, a modest sized boat but with well kept cabins for 10 and a tiny kitchen that the chef managed to dish 3 full meals a day out of (lunch and dinner being 3 courses) despite the fact that he himself was about the width of the kitchen. I was instantly impressed with the friendly service and also enjoying the company of the other passengers on the boat. We were a very international group coming from Australia, Germany, Switzerland, Belgium, Canada and the UK and instantly got on well (half of us as it turns out were biology graduates!). Following lunch we set sail for Kicker Rock, a renowned spot for snorkeling with hammerheads. After about a 3 hour boat ride we were ready to get in the water having donned our snorkel gear and hopped on to the small dingy. We arrived before other boat groups and so at first had the place to ourselves. We all jumped in to the water and were first in shock from the cold and then from the sheer number of sharks swimming below us! It was an incredible view of reef sharks and fish swimming through the channel created by the rock formation. we followed them through and were greeted on the other side by sea turtles! Just hanging out and floating around not going anywhere. After about half an hour I was shivering pretty badly and even the sharks couldn't distract me anymore so I got back on the dinghy and we drove a bit further round the rock. I said if anyone saw a hammerhead I'd be straight back in and sure enough just I was warming up I heard the call and got straight back in. Five hammerheads at about two metres a piece swam directly below us. SO COOL! <br />
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To finish off the day we took a sunset tour around Isla lobo (sea lion island) and saw the colonies and pups as the sun set. It was hard to believe that morning I'd been in Quito.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Sunset on Isla Lobos<br />
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The next morning we headed onto Santa Fe to walk among yet more sea lions and take a tour spotting my first blue footed boobies, iguanas, frigates and Galapagon hawks. Having worked with seabirds previously I was blown away with how tame everything was! The zoom on my camera is pants so any close up photos I took are testament to how unbothered all the animals were to our presence. After lunch we set out for some more snorkeling, this time close to sea lion colonies. Under the instruction from Alfonso to blow bubbles for the sea lions we had a few playful encounters.<br />
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Each day followed the same general pattern of onshore exploration in the morning followed by snorkeling in the afternoon. More sea lions, sharks, frigates, flamingos, boobies, turtles and the occasional stingray entertained us each day. It's hard to get bored of these close encounters but after 5 days I was definitely tired. I particularly suffered from the cold water more than the others in the group and had to remind myself not to push it for the sake of a sea lion, even though i was tempted!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Blue Footed Booby (stop giggling Oliver)<br />
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The last night we spent near shore. Chef cooked us an amazing chocolate cake wishing us happy travels and the boat crew were allowed a night on land to stay with their families. Early the next morning we headed to the Charles Darwin research station to see the giant land Tortoises. Sadly lonesome George is no more after his passing in 2012 but the new guy on the block is "Super Diego", a tortoise with over 80 descendants who frequently tries to procreate with anything and everything including the males in his enclosure and rocks. So no way he's gonna let his species die out. It was a miserable rainy morning and soon we were saying our farewells and I was back on a plane to Quito.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Giant Tortoise survival meeting<br />
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I absolutely loved my short trip to the Galapagos and it is something I will remember for a long time to come. If you want to visit the islands but aren't Angelina Jolie or Bradd Pitt who recently visited, here are some money saving tips:<br />
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1. Fly from Guayaquil.<br />
Flights from Quito are about $200 more expensive so if your travel plans take you to Guayaquil, it's worth flying from there.<br />
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2. Book a cruise when you get to the Galapagos.<br />
Don't be afraid to fly to the Galapagos without having booked a boat trip. Others on my cruise had done just this and it turns out there are very reasonable hostels on the Galapagos (some for $10) so not only will you get to explore the islands at your own pace but also you can get better boat trip deals from within the islands.<br />
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3. GO NOW!<br />
I went in October 2013 when flights from Quito are $500 and the park entrance fee is $100. Both are set to go up, according to Alfonso they want to double the park entrance fee this year. Also there is increasing pressure from the 'galapagon mafia' to do away with small affordable tour boats and just allow the wealthy Jacuzzi clad cruise ships permission to tour the islands. It would be a shame to limit this amazing place to the wealthy retired and Hollywood superstars but that is the direction it's heading with full support of the people with power on the Galapagos.<br />
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I hope you have enjoyed my brief detour from the mechanical turmoils of motorcycle travel, I certainly did!</div>
ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-13444132781624189782014-01-31T21:24:00.000+00:002014-01-31T21:25:21.794+00:00This title purposefully left blank (Colombia to Ecuador)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
writing this one from a campsite in Chile, turns out Chile is damn expensive, paying $20 a night just to camp, don't even talk about the food!! Quite a shock after Bolivia where a meal cost a buck fifty and a room wasn't much more!<br />
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So yeah, it's been a while but I'll fill you in from Colombia, sorry if I go over old ground.<br />
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We spent 2 months waiting in Medellin for parts, piston rings and gaskets. Who knew the local mechanic would lie about it only taking 3 days? We decided to go camping early in the wait and headed up to a national park where we stayed for 3 nights but only paid for one. It was an organised camp ground and there was some kind of relationship seminar going on. The tents had nice soft mattresses and rose pettles scattered on them. a big bonfire was setup in the middle of the tents and everyone got drunk, played with fire and I assume had sex although who would want to do it with the neighbours 2 feet and a thin plastic sheet away I don't know.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">View from the cablecar over Medellin<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">"wild" camping with our nice BBQ area and lots of wood!</td></tr>
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When we returned to the city we called into the mechanic who informed us that it'd be another day or two so we didn't wait around and visited another town. We'd repeat this several times over the next two months. I'll save you the surprise and explain what happened now. The address in Miami I was told to send the parts to was abandoned. It took us a week or two to find this out with the parts sitting all alone in a mailbox, finally got them redirected to the correct address. It then turned out the mechanic had not ordered the parts he said he would so they took even more time. Finally with everything in Miami they were sent to Medellin as part of a larger shipment of which someone forgot to fill in the import papers so we had to wait even longer. Most of the time we waited in Medellin in a small hostel where the owners got to know us and we became part time nannies for their daughter. Fun times!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Just another pretty street in Guatape</td></tr>
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Anyway, the parts arrived and they installed them, rebuilt the whole engine and when I turned up to pick it up the engine was making a clunking noise. At this point I was beyond angry. 2 months and they put the damn thing together wrong. We left anyway, Our visas and bike import were running out so we had no choice.<br />
We left with a churning feeling in my stomach and headed south towards Ecuador. The noise persisted but we tried to ignore it. I've kinda taken to hiding problems a bit from Heather. I've put her through hell with this bike and she deserved to enjoy the trip considering the time, effort and money she's put in. So we headed to Tatacoa desert in the south. Nice roads most of the way, we slipped off the main road onto a dirt track into the desert. At least with the rough ground I couldn't hear the noise from the engine. After several miles and wrong turnings we eventually found a campsite and pitched our tent looking out over a multicoloured, wind shapped landscape. It was beautiful, we watched the sunset and when it was totally dark we visited the observatory for a lecture on the stars and some moon viewing. We were even lucky enough to see a huge meteorite. Someone else saw a plane and thought it was another meteorite. We tried not to laugh too much.<br />
The next day we headed south running for the border. The GPS showed lovely tarmac the whole way. It lied. We've posted the video already but there's another copy here. It took us two days to reach the border, a couple of close calls with trucks and general amazement at the condition of the road we finally made it with a day to spare on our visas. Phew.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Parked overlooking the Tatacoa Desert (the roadmap is Heathers artwork)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">My future career path (Americans please research what fanny means in english!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">this sign is always reduntent. If you don't realise you're on a twisty road then you probably shouldn't be driving!</td></tr>
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Borders seem to be getting easier as we head south. This one was simple enough, they barely looked at our papers. One more country off the list, 5 to go. That's half of them for those who are counting.</div>
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And into Ecuador, another easy entrance, show papers, get stamps, buy insurance. Worthy of note, the insurance here actually covers you in an accident as well as whoever you hit. $25 for the month and you're covered for $2,500, enough to get things started while someone sorts out your own insurance. We stopped in Otovalo for a couple of days, bought all our christmas presents (sorry they were so small but we had a serious weight limit), Got my waterproofs fixed (we burnt them on the tailpipe, you think I'd learn) and welded a shield over the exhaust so it wont happen again. All in all one of our more productive cities. We soon headed south for the Equator. A big moment in the trip yet the actual equator we crossed was not marked in any way. I marked it on the GPS and as we approached I walked the bike to the "line" and drew an actual line on the road for future travellers. What's the point in crossing the equator if you don't mark it somehow?</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">forward a bit, forward a bit wait wait back a bit... That's it. The moment we crossed the equator 0.0N<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">the "line is right under my foot, honest guv.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">And the "real" equator, monument and everything. Honestly if you're an equatorial country and you don't draw a thick red line across the whole damn place then you've failed as a government.</td></tr>
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We carried on down into Quito and then back up to the equator monument which just so happens to be in completely the wrong place. We can thank the french for that. We watched the usual gimicks and got the photos anyway! We're also lighter at the equator, I call it the equatorial diet and it has nothing to do with the suspicious food. Aparently the world is wider at the equator so you are further from the center so gravity has less of an effect. Photos taken, gimicks bought we headed back to Quito and the motorbikes salvation.</div>
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ME. Ok not only me but after months of shite mechanics and dodgy work the only choice was to try again. We found Diego online and I visited him the next day. We talked about the bike and he was clearly unhappy with the sound but also informed me that he no longer works on engines. One look in his garage and I was convinced he knew what he was doing so with his supervision I was to do my own engine rebuild. Talked about it with Heb and we both agreed that while I slaved away she should take a vacation. For five days she would be in the Galapagos (which I am pursuading her to blog about) and I worked on the engine. Day one and the engine was out, day two torn down and problem found. I wish it was something crazy difficult but it was glaringly obvious. I'd followed the haynes manual through the whole teardown and when I got to the output shaft I carefully checked how it was built against the manual. They put a washer in the wrong place. This started with the mechanic in Costa Rica who installed the new output shaft, it was continued by the second mechanic in CR who took it apart again, looked at it and rebuilt it WITH AN EXTRA WASHER! This is not just absurd, it's beyond that! They even had the damn haynes manual with a diagram of how to build the damn thing! I cannot express my hate for those mechanics in words. I trusted them and paid good money to have it fixed only to be left with a bike that made me sick to ride. I'd lost alot of enjoyment and still not back to 100% even now. The next mechanic, in Medellin, also with the haynes manual took the whole thing apart and reassembled it incorrectly AGAIN. In a slight defense of the mechanic he would have reassembled it the same way as he saw it when it came out BUT I told him of the problem and he should have looked at the damn picture.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qWZjB12ZolY/UuwBc1gl_WI/AAAAAAAABxs/1AKFT78iCT0/s1600/PICT0470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qWZjB12ZolY/UuwBc1gl_WI/AAAAAAAABxs/1AKFT78iCT0/s1600/PICT0470.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Engine disassembled, clutch in the top box, alternator on the right and some parts that are probably important on the left.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jbsQfcncYYg/UuwDzdJubBI/AAAAAAAABx4/U8Re8cKLZuQ/s1600/PICT0473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jbsQfcncYYg/UuwDzdJubBI/AAAAAAAABx4/U8Re8cKLZuQ/s1600/PICT0473.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Motorcycle gears, input shaft on the right (takes power from the pistons) and output on the left (turns that power into some mean torque and spins the rear wheel) a precise and incredible piece of engineering</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sJHfpR8nnYw/UuwE6tN70tI/AAAAAAAAByI/IqxPsCYflH8/s1600/PICT0474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sJHfpR8nnYw/UuwE6tN70tI/AAAAAAAAByI/IqxPsCYflH8/s1600/PICT0474.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">at the top is the 5th gear, then a static washer (it can't move along the shaft) and a free washer. They are the wrong way round. this is the difference between silky smooth gear changing perfection and engine failure.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TejckpW8Rxc/UuwEngu19eI/AAAAAAAAByA/daz36LhsHn0/s1600/PICT0475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TejckpW8Rxc/UuwEngu19eI/AAAAAAAAByA/daz36LhsHn0/s1600/PICT0475.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">engine going back together</td></tr>
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Anyway, problem found we took it to a gears specialist who examined it and even before looking told us that the gear pinion would have wear if the washer was in the wrong place, it did, we corrected it, tested it and rebuilt it. There were a couple of other problems that we fixed as well and put the engine back in, wired everything up, hit the starter motor... Nothing. Long story short we started to panic about a broken CDi unit, a part you cannot fix and is essential and is expensive. We tried everything, brought in other mechanics, nothing worked. We eventually took the bike to an eletrician out of town, he couldn't find the problem, said it was the CDi as well but we pursuaded him to keep looking. Eventually Diego decided to try changing one of the wire connectors and bingo it worked. A full day of worry and it was simply me wiring shit up wrong. In my defense it was pretty ambiguous which plug connected to which connector. A happy ending? this bike? Not on your life! Everything back together and guess what, is that a crack in the break disc? Of course it is! We got a new one modified to fit and left. the next day and headed for the amazon. Needless to say I was nervous about the bike but she is running beautifully now. Apart from the problems the insides are in great condition which is a testiment to Honda. Inspite of bad mechanics she is running beautifully.</div>
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Ok, I'll leave you there. Next post will be from Heb about the Galapagos trip and then back on the road.</div>
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ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-50450681693957009902013-09-05T03:46:00.000+01:002013-09-05T03:46:09.978+01:00Boats, Bikes and Beer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's time to put the woes of central america behind us and move to sunnier climes. We had 5 days booked aboard the Stahlratte. We met Lou Lou, the captain, who had helped acquire transport for us from our breakdown to the boat. Time to load up and the boat came into the dock and using the winch normally reserved for the mainsail they hauled the bike onto the deck where she would sit, unmolested, for 5 days. We covered her with a rain sheet to stop too much salt water getting in and went to meet up with the others.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SE5Q3tTxYUc/UifjimSSwuI/AAAAAAAABpw/stcRGOsQf9Y/s1600/PICT0332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SE5Q3tTxYUc/UifjimSSwuI/AAAAAAAABpw/stcRGOsQf9Y/s320/PICT0332.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loading the bike onto the boat. Was I nervous, not a bit...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Onboard the Stahlratte</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the launch going to the island.</td></tr>
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Al, Andi, Ellen, Ron and Gale had arrived before us and were already relaxing on a small island just off the mainland. We were to stay here for the night instead of on the boat. It was a bit of a joke having to pay for accomodation after just handing over $1500 but it was a good experience. A true local island with no setup for tourists, soon after arriving we were shown our rooms. There was a quick scrabble to get the current occupent out. We were to stay in someone elses private room...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is where we stayed the first night</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the dock meeting Ron and Gale for the first time.</td></tr>
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We wandered around the island for a little bit. It was not much more than a patch of sand with houses on it. Every last inch had been built upon using traditional building materials and methods. The ladies walked around in traditional clothing and they cooked for us too. We soon dipped into the bottle of rum we brought with us and spent the night talking about motorbikes. It was a nice experience if a bit unexpected. In the morning I woke up early and got to see the women leaving for work. They all hopped on a long boat and headed off to various islands. One of their main economies is farming and selling coconuts. Most of the islands used to be mangroves but they cut them down and cultivated them. Most of those wonderful islands you see in the pictures are natural formations but the look, palm trees and sandy beaches, is man made. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Local Kuna lady</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting on the dock of the bay watching the tide roll away</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the crows nest</td></tr>
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Around 11am the launch came to pick us up and then picked up the other passengers. Within the hour we were on our way to the San Blas islands aboard a restored fishing vessel over 100 years old. We were lucky enough to get a tour of the engine room and learn about the boat. You can imagine all the excited petrol heads checking everything out.</div>
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We arrived in our own personal paradise a couple of hours later and moments after lowering anchor people were jumping off the sides and using the rope swing into the water. It was beautiful, calm blue seas for miles around and we were anchored within a group of three islands. I made my first attempt at climbing the mast but I crapped out at the point where you need to be stretch armstrong to get into the crows nest so down to the rope swing instead. I forgot to mention that Heb had bought a new camera. A BulletHD helmet cam that's also waterproof to 10m. I decided it'd be a brilliant idea to use the rope swing and the camera at the same time. Just as I let go of the rope the camera disconnected from its laynard and plummeted into the water below. This was the first real use of the camera and I lost it. Awesome! The captain and I donned some snorkling gear and tried to find it. I saw it on the bottom and dived down to reach it. My dive computer recorded it as exactly 10m deep which is pretty lucky if you think about it.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our own little paradise</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heb on a swing. She managed to hold her nose as she went into the water.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally made it to the top on the second attempt</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bow of the boat from above</td></tr>
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We spent the next couple of days drinking rum, snorkeling and eating ridiculous amounts of amazing food. The Stahlratte is famous for its meals and they did not disappoint. While snorkeling, apart from the sunburn, we got to see stingrays, eels, an octopus and someone saw a turtle. They need an air compressor on board so they can take people diving. It really was beautiful. The first night we headed over to one of the islands and had a great BBQ as the sun set over the island and Heb got some great photos of the boat with stars in the background. The stahlratte was probably the most expensive boat for the trip but it was well worth it for the experience. The staff were great, the captain had some amazing stories and the other passengers were a lot of fun.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starry night, hard to get the boat to hold still for the long exposure.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Captain, crew and passengars</td></tr>
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All too soon it was time to leave, bring on the seasickness! Bigger boats are less likely to cause seasickness but still the swell seemed to be just right for some people and quite a few were getting drugged up to deal with it. We sailed for 24 hours in open ocean with no sight of land before finally arriving in Cartagena. The relief on Ellens face as we pulled into the port was obvious. </div>
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The bikes were to be unloaded the next day so we took the launch to the mainland and found ourselves a hostel for the night before facing the wonderful immigration and customs officers.</div>
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Heat, have you ever been too hot? Not like working in a kitchen and getting too hot but heat everywhere with no relief? Cartagena is the definition of too hot! After the first day I was down with a headache and mild sunstroke. Just constant sweat all day and night. To make matters worse I had to drag my wheel halfway around the city to find an innertube and get it fixed up. It was not fun and the night wasn't any better. We were in a dorm room and there was a barely working fan. One girl was sleeping stark naked. I wish I could say this was sexy but the conditions were just horrible for everyone. In the morning it was time to attach the wheel to the bike and unload them from the ship. We found out they would be loading the bikes onto the tiny launch and taking them across the bay before driving them out of the boat. None of us were happy about this. We thought we'd be using the winch again. Andi and Ellens KTM was first to go. To say we were nervous is an understatement as we watched each bike being unloaded and taken across we all sat biting our nails.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lugging the tire around Cartagena</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loading the bikes onto the launch to take it to the dock. More nerves.</td></tr>
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All the bikes got over without incident. The launch did almost sink with Ron's BMW, the largest of the bikes, but everything was good. All the bikes had picked up a bit of rust while at sea but nothing too dramatic so it was time to get the bikes registered. At the customs office, the DIAN, we were to meet Manfred. Manfred is a whale of a man who would lazily and extremely slowly get our bikes through customs. First time through he managed to put the paperwork in with all the bikes being marked as negro/amarillo black and yellow. Only one bike actually was. There were various other problems with the paperwork so Manfred took the paperwork to redo it all and told us to meet him at 4pm. It was Friday and we were getting worried about time so we headed off to buy insurance as Manfred had instructed. You may be getting the feeling we don't like Manfred, you would be right. We arrived at the insurance office where we were promptly informed that we wouldn't be able to insure the bikes without the proper paperwork from the DIAN. Better news, the office closed at 5:30 so we would only have an hour and a half after meeting Manfred to get the bikes through customs and into the insurance office.</div>
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We arrived early to meet Manfred who managed to turn up late, and when I say he was a whale of a man I mean it. He was planet sized and always had food somewhere. He turns up with the paperwork and gets angry when we ask to check it all. We check every single detail and its mostly correct. Poor Al has the wrong passport number and so we all have to wait while Manfred slowly walks to the office and takes his time adjusting the papers again. We are all fuming and watching time tick by. Al breaks and yells at Manfred who promptly tells him we should all respect and thank him. Yeah right. We run out the door, jump on the bikes and blast through the streets of Cartagena like men possessed reaching the insurance office at exactly 5:30 where we told they can't do it. A bit of good biker bad biker (Al looked like his head was about to explode) and they finally said they could do it. It was Friday afternoon and they obviously wanted to go home so we all really appreciated them helping us out. Being stuck in Cartagena without the bikes for a long weekend was not a part of the plan.</div>
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We stayed a couple of days, checking out the sights and enjoying the food. Everyone was on a different time scale so when Heather and me decided to leave we only had one other bike with us. Andi and Ellen on their KTM, so we loaded up and headed East along the coast towards Taganga. Along the way we passed a volcanic mud bath and so had to stop and enjoy the health benefits of sitting in mud.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MUD BATH! A childhood dream come true.</td></tr>
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We climbed this big cone and at the top their was a big square pit with a ladder going down into it. We climbed down the ladder into the mud. It was, to put it simply, gross but also kinda nice. You float on the surface of it and if you go upright you float with the mud level just below your nipples. It's a very weird sensation. We got a nice massage and floated about for a half hour or so before going for a wash in the lake. This treatment back home would probably cost you a months wages, we got it for about $4 each! So a quick lunch and with Andi and Ellen leading the way we rode to Taganga.</div>
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We spent just over a week in Taganga, we hoped to scuba dive and even got a job offer from one of the diveshops. We talked about it a lot and after the initial excitement of possibly working for a few months in the caribbean we decided against it. Taganga was nice but it wasn't right for us at the moment. We were more excited to travel than dive so headed off the next day. Andi and Ellen had left a few days before so it was back to a solo adventure.</div>
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Time to get away from the heat so we headed south again, this time towards the mountain city of Medellin, known as the city of eternal spring. It took us 3 days in total to reach Medellin. We stopped in a couple of small towns, for the night. It was still bloody hot and kept looking for the mountains that seemed to never come. Finally, on the third day, we saw peaks in the distance and it wasn't long before we were climbing up into the mountains. Along the way we met some other riders from Quebec, Yan and Mary riding a KTM and a BMW so we rode to Medellin with them. The mountains rose quickly and it took very little time to reach 9000feet. The temperature change was so great that Heather had to put on extra layers, I was very excited to be cold. when we stopped for a drink the people were so nice and friendly. It was a completely different culture from the lowlands. Our moods had also changed from being tired, hot and sweaty to suddenly having loads of energy. I love the mountains!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding into the mountains with Yan and Marie</td></tr>
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We arrived in Medellin in mid afternoon and promptly fell fast asleep in the hostel, it was cold and we were loving it!</div>
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I think that's a good point to stop. Lots of bike stuff has happened since. Needless to say it has been expensive but worth it. We're going to get a bike back that we both feel happy riding. It should be finished in a day or two so I'll let you know what needed doing and the end result when that's all finished.</div>
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ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-70137673215515716812013-09-01T21:36:00.000+01:002013-09-01T21:36:59.973+01:00So we left you in Nicaragua and we are in Colombia...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So we left you in Nicaragua and we are in Colombia now so I think we will play some catch up today and try to update you to today....<br />
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Volcanoes of Ometepe Island</div>
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In Nicaragua we met up again with Andy, visited an island in a lake and saw some more volcanoes. It was nice, we also tried some more surfing which was tiring. Andy advised me on a mechanic in Costa Rica and I got in touch with Aileen who, with Ceri and Mark, were visiting Costa Rica in a few days time. Aileen kindly agreed to bring some parts out for me so I could get the bike fixed up and we got in touch with the mechanic who said it would be no problem getting the bike fixed up. We were quoted $400 for the full job which was cheap but still a blow to our finances.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mum always said I had a monkey on my back</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset in Limon</td></tr>
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We left Nicaragua happy and hopeful about the bike. At the border we met Al who is travelling on a Honda Varadero. We had the usual border fun, another fine for being in the C4 for too long and a few hours spent doing nothing. It took a couple of days getting down to Heredia where Dave and Jackie were living and working as english teachers. Dave had kindly offered to let us stay for a few days and it was great to catch up with everyone from back home. In total there were 6 of us from Sully and it was like a home away from home. I unwrapped my new toys from Aileen like a kid at christmas and we talked about old times. We planned to part ways while I got the bike fixed and we would meet them on the caribean coast a few days later. Insert something about the best laid plans of mice and men here....<br />
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After the Sullyians left I rode the 100 miles to Nicoya and the mechanic along the pan american highway. Costa Ricas main highway for cargo, people and everything in between. Its single lane and choked with traffic. On reaching Nicoya I met Raul, the mechanic who was supposed to work on the bike but he told me he was too busy but knew a great guy who was going to do it. There should have been alarm bells. He took me to meet Nemo. His garage was dirty, bike parts were everywhere. Should have been more alarm bells. He told me he could finish the work in two days when I was originally quoted 5. More alarm bells. I ignored them all.<br />
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There were problems getting the engine out of the bike as some mounting bolts had seized but after the first day the engine was out and taken apart by the second day. New parts in and back together by the third day. I was excited to try out the bike but it was making a strange knocking noise. I was assured it was normal for a bike of higher mileage and the noise stopped when the bike was upright so I promptly rode the bike back to Heredia. About halfway back the bike lost all power, it was vibrating more than usual and I was worried but the power came back and it was easier to continue home than to return. I can only blame myself for this. I should have gone back. By the time I got to Heredia my hands were numb from vibrations. I got back in touch with Raul and we arranged to have the bike shipped back to Nicoya. More money, more worry and plenty of anger. Turns out the new part was slightly smaller than the original and the knocking was not normal. We got that fixed soon enough with a slight modification to the part and I went to pick up the bike again. I was still not happy with the bike as it was vibrating still but I made another mistake and decided to ride back.<br />
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By now the Sullyians had returned from their trip and were getting ready to return home. We were sad to have missed out on travelling with them but glad the bike was working and a day or so later we left for the coast. About 60 miles out the clutch stops working so I contact Raul again. He basically told me it wasn't his problem. Super angry now and feeling completely down in the dumps over the whole thing I didnt know what to do next. In the end we found a mechanic in the city who would fix the clutch. Turns out Nemo had added parts to the engine. An extra washer was causing the clutch to slip.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carrying the bike back to Heredia after the clutch failed</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welsh themed going away party for Dave and Jackie</td></tr>
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I'll be honest, even now weeks after I'm fuming about the whole affair. So many ifs and maybes. I wish I had waited until Colombia as I have met some great people here who have been incredibly helpful but I digress. The bike was running again and we had a boat to catch.<br />
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For those of you who dont know, there is a big gap between Panama and Colombia with no roads. Its called the Darien Gap and the only way past is by boat. The boat we wanted to travel on was the stahlratte as it is big, comfortable and has experience carrying motorbikes. We had very little time to get from the center of Costa Rica to the bottom of Panama so we hit the road running. Flew through Costa Rica and visited the Sloth Sanctuary where Heather met some new friends. Got through the border with no problems and into Panama. Brilliant.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sloth</td></tr>
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Once we were in Panama we headed for a town called David. Its the jumping off point for a lot of cool places in Panama. We visited the highlands near there and a town called Boquete. Really beautiful and most importantly, considerably cooler than the lowlands near the coast. We rode some beautiful roads and tried to forget about the drama from the previous three weeks. It was nice not to worry for a bit.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing a rickety bridge in Boquete</td></tr>
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Still on a time budget we headed south to visit the town where Panama hats were originally made and a womans artisan group. We found the town but no hats and the artisan group had expanded from the quaint little stalls the guide book had promised us.<br />
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We finished the bolt down to Panama City to meet with Al again and get ready for the boat trip. Al had been in town for three weeks and was a wealth of knowledge on the area.<br />
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With a day or two spare we visited the Panama Canal and learnt all about its history. An incredible feat of engineering started by the French and finished by the Americans it has only recently been given back to Panama to govern it and they are building an extension to be opened next year. A hugely expensive project expected to bring in billions for the government.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ships entering the docks at the Panama Canal</td></tr>
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We soon recieved an email from Lou Lou, the captain of the stahlratte and got in touch with a few other bikers who were on the boat too. It was here we met Andy and Ellen, a couple from New Zealand travelling two up on a KTM 950. On the 11th it was time to leave for the short ride to the coast and the stahlratte. Hopefully saying goodbye to the woes of Central America. Yet she had one more thing to throw at us. About 30km from the coast we got a flat. Seems the rear was running low and overheated causing the innertube to disintergrate. Luckily we were going fairly slow and only had a small wobble but with no spare tube for the rear we were screwed. We were at the back of the convoy so they didnt realise we had a problem for a few minutes we sat there alone and started to remove the rear wheel. Andy and Ellen turned up and they had a spare tube. Al carried on to inform the boat about our delay. New tube in, inflated and off we go, 1 km later.... bang. We were shifting along this time and it burst mid corner. the bike veared violently to the left as the rear wheel tried to overtake the front. Legs flying everywhere and the bike lurching all over the road I managed to bring it to a stop right side up. Heather was shaking on the back of the bike and we were out. For Heather this was the first real brush with what can happen on a motorbike. The adrenaline and fear left her truely shaken up and I think, even now weeks later, she isn't fully happy on the back of the bike. In all honesty I dont think either of us were enjoying ourselves. With a few spots of fun along the way the past month or two has been problem after problem. The bike just isn't right and its sapping my energy. I'm not sure how much more of this we can take.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One dead inner tube on the way to the Stahlratte</td></tr>
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Andy and Ellen headed to the boat to try and find someone to carry us back on a truck. 4 hours alter, $100 and the pain of having to be carried instead of using our own power and we made it to the boat. For now at least someone else could take the load and we could sit back and relax on the trip to Colombia.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Stahlratte ready to take us to Colombia</td></tr>
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ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-84543476513190839712013-08-09T05:18:00.003+01:002013-08-09T05:18:48.813+01:00Cigars, waves and a reunion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">Ahhh, such a fast followup on the last post.... Bike problems problems and more problems since we left Danli but we had a blessed three weeks in Nicaragua where (almost) everything went great.</span></div>
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We left you in Danli with a sick bike and a lot of questions about the immediate future. A big one hanging over our head was could we really afford to carry on with the bike. Was our trip about to change in a fundamental way and give up the bike and just backpack instead. We talked about it a lot with genuine sadness from both of us at the idea of leaving the bike behind. Eventually Heather said to me that we have to try and she meant it. In just a few short weeks she had got attached to travelling on the bike and was really enjoying herself, we weren't going to quit at the first hurdle.</div>
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So I headed to the mechanic the next day after researching several possible fixes online. Took the ideas to the mechanic and he basically no'd most of them but we settled on welding the front sprocket onto the output shaft. A temporary fix as the front sprocket needs to be replaced quite frequently and the welding causes it to wear down faster.</div>
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Heather and me agreed on a permenant fix being getting parts from the UK and a mechanic around here and getting it done. about $1000 in total but worth it to carry on.</div>
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So with that drama mostly out of the way we headed to the border at Las Manos (The Hands) where we faced a trial at the merciless hands of border guards. The bike being in Honduras for 2 years apparently meant it overstayed it's temporary import by about 21 months, oops, so we had a $300 fine which I am pretending is 2 years parking costs at a very reasonable rate. Had to drive back into town to get money and then back to the border to pay and get a stamp and a receipt before finally being allowed to drive across the border where the border guard looked at the wrong page, ignored all the stamps and waved us through.... bastards! What happened to a cigarette and a friendly smile being all you needed to grease the wheels of bureaucracy? It's amazing how countries who can't police their own citizens and have the highest murder rates in the world and extremely capable of getting money from people. I wonder where it all goes?</div>
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Finally into Nicaragua and through immigration with very little trouble. We headed for Esteli, a large town near the border on the pan american highway. Instantly you can see a difference between the countries. Nicaragua is significantly poorer than Honduras. Trucks on the road stopped being big 18 wheelers and were just farm trucks with cows or hay. There were more people walking along the road and even the geography seemed to change at the border. More lush green hills and acres of farmland.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ring Road out of Esteli, the cobbles were surprisingly smooth</td></tr>
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We had a bit of a mishap with fuel and ran out about 1k from the next fuel station. Luckily the bike has a reserve. Fuel gets stuck on the right side of the tank so you can lean the bike over to the left so it can reach the fuel tap and carry on for an extra mile or two. In Esteli we found a super cheap hostel for $8, parked the bike inside and made ourselves at home. This is where the nice 3 weeks begins. The next morning we visited a cigar factory and saw cigars being made from scratch. It is all done by hand, from selecting the leaves, removing the veins, rolling the cigar and packaging (They even make the packaging in the factory, by hand, including the decorating) Go out and look at a fancy pack of cigars, the guys are artists. even if you dont smoke you can appreciate the craftsmanship that went into it with each cigar being 100% natural and made purely with tobacco leaves. We also managed to go see a science museum with dinosaurs made from car parts. They used to breath fire or be powered by solar panels but they were old and not cared for. Basically they went the same way the dinosaurs did.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Training for my future employment as a cigar roller.</td></tr>
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We soon headed down to Leon where we were reunited with Andy and his girlfriend, Jenia. Andy was one of the first bikers I traveled with at the beginning of the trip. We first met in Iran and met up in various places along the way. It was good to see a friendly face and catch up on old times. We discussed the bikes, obviously, and Andy suggested a mechanic he knows in Costa Rica to fix the bike. We didn't stay long but planned to meet up again at their home in Limon.</div>
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Leon was a pretty colonial city with Central Americas largest cathedral. We enjoyed the sites, saw some live music and I showed of my white guy dancing in a small nightclub. I think everyone was, thankfully, a bit too drunk to notice me. Leonians can really dance. It's strange seeing such great dancing in a nightclub when dancing in a club usually means grinding and even then it's not graceful. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Largest Cathedral in CA, currently under renovation</td></tr>
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We left the bright lights of Leon and headed to a small coastal town famous for its waves. We even went so far as to stay in a bamboo eco lodge. Let me tell you what eco means around here. It means you pay more, have to have a bucket of talc next to your toilet, there's not enough electricity to power the fan and the beds are lumpy. The environment loves it though..... But, we were on a beach in Nicaragua so I decided it was time to become an amazing surfer as this was obviously missing from my life. I rented a board, passed on the lessons and ran into the ocean where I was promptly made to feel inadequate. Surfing is hard, and tiring. I tried for about an hour and by the end I was tired upset and broken in many ways. Heb took out a body board and had a lot more fun! We ended the day watching the locals ride and they were amazing. When someone can make something that difficult look that easy then you know they are good!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me surfing!!! HA, no this is a local guy</td></tr>
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It was here that bumped into Jayne and Phil, they are brother and sister and travelling down from Alaska to Argentina. It seems they were supposed to be in Columbia by now but schedules rarely survive more than the first week of any trip. We said hi but didn't have much time to get to know them as they we're dropping a friend at the airport. We've bumped into them a few times since.</div>
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We left the beach after a couple of days and headed to meet someone from Horizons Unlimited. Salvador has a house in Managua where he runs his own, rapidly expanding, adventure travel company. When overlanders come through he offers them a place to stay for a few days to recoup and we're going to need it. We met Sal in Matagalpa but didn't know what hotel he was in so panic started to set in as we arrived. We passed one big hotel and it looked like there were some big bikes there so doubled back and there was Sal with Jayne and Phil. Celebrations were had! Sal had a few friends down on a trip and they were offroading their way back to Managua. The next morning we headed south, Jayne and Phil headed East and Sal headed North West with his group.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole group</td></tr>
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Sal had given us his address and told us to head on down and he would meet us there a few days later. We headed off and I decided it would be a good time to try some offroading with Heb. See if we could make it work. It was a pretty simple road but I think we'll need a bit more practice before we get good at this 2 up thing. Heb got sick just outside of Managua so we stopped to rest but it wouldn't pass. Turned out it was food poisoning and we both got it. We reached Sals place and spent the night vomiting and shitting. Pleasant for everyone I can assure you. It turned out everyone who met at the hotel in Matagalpa got sick at one point or another but fortunately it passed quickly.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">VOLCANO!!!!</td></tr>
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I think I'll leave it there and catch you up again soon. </div>
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ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-19001716222549285452013-07-08T06:30:00.000+01:002013-07-08T06:30:55.518+01:00Brewery, Brains and Bike problems<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Regular posts.... This isn't right.... What's happened? What's changed? Oh yeah........<div>
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After San Pedro we headed South West to Lago De Yojoa and the D&D Brewery. There's been a small brewery on the site for many years but about two years ago Bobby purchased it and started his own brewing procedures with several different ales being produced. We were there for a couple of days so I made it a mission to try every one. Several times! On the way up we kept on passing these roadside shops selling plastic garden ornaments. They were everywhere and really raised a certain question. Who the hell drives down a busy highway looking exclusively for plastic garden ornaments? Or who, on impulse, stops at a random shop and thinks, that's what my garden is missing, a sombrero wearing frog playing a banjo! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">Who buys this crap?<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></td></tr>
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When we reached the brewery we had options, camp or stay in a dorm or lodgings. Naturally camping in a rainforest and the first opportunity to use the new tent is the only real option. We picked a campsite and dragged everything from the parking lot to the site to pitch the tent. All in all things went pretty well. Both of us are still alive with only minor injuries and slightly dented pride. It was actually all pretty easy. The tent is easy to put up and Heather had put it up once in the UK. Most of our gear fitted inside and there was an area where we could keep everything that didn't fit. True to form it rained every single night we were there, conveniently it was well timed, it rained at quarter to six every time. Could set your watch by it. The tent stayed mostly dry but a little bit damp, when it did rain it really put in 100% effort. This was not drizzle! The self inflating bed mat is brilliant and makes camping comfortable and having a three man tent makes it spacious enough to be enjoyable. I'm not sure you'd ever want a third person in there though.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yyljdwgKT4s/UdpB34eU0SI/AAAAAAAABSc/OMUN-GWYJ0M/s1600/IMG_8972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yyljdwgKT4s/UdpB34eU0SI/AAAAAAAABSc/OMUN-GWYJ0M/s320/IMG_8972.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tent in all its rainforesty glory!</td></tr>
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The brewery is a "short" walk from Honduras' biggest lake. It took about an hour to walk to the lakeside and the next day we decided to try rowing across it. Walking's quicker!!! We rowed for about 4 hours. It really was beautiful an worth it. We may have overestimated our rowing ability and underestimated the size of the lake.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tSEDjfvsH50/UdpB2ufUwjI/AAAAAAAABSU/R5mgSPDIgiM/s1600/IMG_8987.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tSEDjfvsH50/UdpB2ufUwjI/AAAAAAAABSU/R5mgSPDIgiM/s320/IMG_8987.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lakeside</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It'd been Heathers birthday on the 10th, I was not a good boyfriend. I planned to buy a present but got bogged down in bike stuff and then the 10th arrived and I had nothing to give her and no plans either. We ate breakfast and walked along the beach. Luckily saw a guy selling jewelry so told heather she could pick anything she liked. She chose a necklace with a blue stone. It was time to pay so I got out some cash but the guy wouldn't accept it because he didn't have change so Heather had to pay for her own present. Brilliant.<br />
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I did manage to win back some brownie points a few days later. I'd emailed the brewery in advance to make sure they had candles and cake and the night we got there I managed to surprise her.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8OgzpfO204w/UdpB8LpIhLI/AAAAAAAABSs/SHLDVUIfht8/s1600/IMG_8998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8OgzpfO204w/UdpB8LpIhLI/AAAAAAAABSs/SHLDVUIfht8/s320/IMG_8998.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The candle was a bit large</td></tr>
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The next day we went to a local river/holiday spot, hiked a bit and visited a waterfall. We even got a guide to take us under the waterfall. You quite literally walk through a wall of water and then along the rock face with water pummeling you the whole time. Eventually you reach a small opening into the cliff and can climb inside a small, dryish chamber. It'd make a brilliant hiding spot for hide n seek. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XlCLXSR1LP4/UdpB9chKidI/AAAAAAAABS0/O_TuzaoqMSM/s1600/IMG_9012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XlCLXSR1LP4/UdpB9chKidI/AAAAAAAABS0/O_TuzaoqMSM/s320/IMG_9012.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After the hike through the falls</td></tr>
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We left the lake the next morning and headed for Danli near the border. Plugged in some music and rode. As you ride out of the mountains you hit a wall of heat. It just goes from comfortably cool to unbearably hot in moments.and you know it's there to stay. Our gear is summer gear but fully clad in armor and in mid 30s temperatures you melt a little bit. To reach Danli we had to ride into Tegucigalpa, Honduras' notorious capital city. We had thought about staying there one night but had decided against it. As we arrive into the city there is a huge tailback and the one side of the road is closed. We discovered the reason. That morning a car carrying three prison guards and a woman was driving out of the city. They'd been ambushed on the way out and the car completely shot up. It was riddled with bullets and the occupants obviously dead. Some had managed to get out of the car and one of their brains was still lying in the road. The rest of the bodies had been removed but there was a very strong police presence. They had a lot of big guns and were nonchalantly waving them at the crowd that had formed. Hence no photos!<br />
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We rode on a bit and both agreed that not staying in Tegucigalpa was probably a good idea.<br />
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We got out and continued on our way to Danli, disaster struck about 30 miles before we got there. A screeching noise from somewhere on the bike. It sounded like the front wheel, it was making an awful noise but we just couldn't find the source. at one point I though I fixed it but 10 minutes later the sound returned. I couldn't actually find anything wrong and short of a good shop to look at everything I was at a loss. Eventually we decided to push on. The sound become intermittent and we ere close to Danli.<br />
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Big mistake.<br />
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Giant fucking mistake!<br />
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I don't know if that ride caused all the damage or if it had been building and that was the straw that broke the camels back but the damage is big. Basically the output shaft, which is a rod that comes out of the engine had worn down. It is supposed to have a series of splines along the shaft which you then attach a sprocket (cog) to. that sprocket is like the front gears on a bicycle. A chain attaches to it which turns the back wheel.<br />
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When the splines wear out completely the bike output shaft can no longer drive the sprocket so you get no power going from the engine to the rear wheel. The picture below is a mechanic in Danli making a temporary fix. He is welding the front sprocket onto the output shaft. This was a last resort option. It's temporary and the full repair is to replace the output shaft. On some bikes this would be easy. On the Transalp it requires a complete engine teardown. Almost every single last nut n bolt needs to come out (that's the easy part) and be put back together (eep). Reading forums and blogs most people seem to think a replacement engine is in order. One guy took it to the Honda dealer and ended up paying thousands of pounds for the repair.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w0tCUNZwNF4/UdpB-Q81jOI/AAAAAAAABS8/o7RRJcdBE08/s1600/IMG_9029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w0tCUNZwNF4/UdpB-Q81jOI/AAAAAAAABS8/o7RRJcdBE08/s320/IMG_9029.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christian working on the output shaft, it was a shirt off job!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A lot of decisions need to be made and I really didn't get much sleep for the next few days. I'll update you soon.</div>
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ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-73560116878313345222013-07-05T05:17:00.001+01:002013-07-05T05:17:43.934+01:00Oh Tino.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Tino gets a post all to himself. I met Tino while searching for tires in San Pedro. I'd been to every tire shop I could find multiple times and no-one could help or was trying beyond looking in the computer system for a tire I needed. I was just about to settle on an offroad tire that was too small when Tino poked his nose into my business. He spoke good english and started explaining what I needed to the guy behind the counter. When he saw I wasn't really happy with the offering he dropped what he was doing and told me to follow him. Within 5 minutes of meeting him I was in his truck and driving god knows where.<div>
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The whole time this is happening we are chatting away about the trip and the bike and the whole time he is trolling me. In 5 minutes he could say enough things to upset everyone around him but the whole time he is joking, you hope.</div>
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We eventually made it to a tire shop where they had a pirelli scorpion which I got for about 60 bucks. Super cheap and an excellent tire. I was ecstatic. I was really starting to think we'd have to wait for one from mexico and pay twice the price. We went to visit his shop where he has a CBR600RR he's been rebuilding. I met some of his family who I am pretty sure were thinking that he'd managed to pick up a stray.</div>
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I finally got back to the hotel, said goodbye to Tino thinking that would be the last I see of him..... I was several hours later than I planned, god knows what Heather's been thinking.... Oh she's asleep....</div>
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We left the next day for Utila, and spent a few days relaxing and sorting out the bike as best I could. Truth is, she was in a bad way. 2 years of neglect will upset most bikes, the transalp seemed to have taken it especially bad and was refusing to run properly. The carbs were beyond dirty. I cleaned them as best I could. They are complicated parts and even after a good clean things weren't working properly. I decided the best bet was to revisit Tino. Oh Dear...</div>
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We took the boat over from Utila to the mainland and Heather got her first real ride on the bike. We had taken some anti seasickness tablets before the crossing and Heather basically fell asleep on the back of the bike. Guess that means she trusts me. It was an uneventful ride, the bike struggled for power over 60mph and was drinking more fuel. Definite carb problem. We stayed a night halfway to San Pedro. Woke up to breakfast on the beach before carrying on, we got into SP the next day and went straight to visit Tino. </div>
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Needless to say Tino continued to rib me when we got there. Joking about throwing the bike out and buying a new one.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eBHWCF5QAGs/UdZEPTxJpjI/AAAAAAAABQk/VcGYSy9cviw/s960/7464_10151709895736800_740912002_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eBHWCF5QAGs/UdZEPTxJpjI/AAAAAAAABQk/VcGYSy9cviw/s320/7464_10151709895736800_740912002_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The suggested replacement</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Tino and his son worked hard on the bike for two days. Concentrating on the carbs but also helping me with other bits n pieces that needed adjusting or replacing. After the first day he took us out to dinner in his favorite local Mexican restaurant. The next day Heather and me went back to the garage to see the progress. Things were going nicely but there were problems. The carbs were so dirty that the jets were completely blocked and nothing would shift the blockage. Spark plugs were ruined. It took a long time to get the bike running again.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mTsTKIRltIE/UdZFj_diRZI/AAAAAAAABQ4/G1xP19bEu4c/s960/994781_10151709895096800_674010831_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mTsTKIRltIE/UdZFj_diRZI/AAAAAAAABQ4/G1xP19bEu4c/s320/994781_10151709895096800_674010831_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tino trying to refit the carbs. Getting them in is a complete puzzle.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Finally, with everything back together it was time to refill the tank and try and start her. No problem, started first time. Tinos son took the bike for a quick lap of the block to test everything was ok but as he was pulling in the bike died and wouldn't start again. After a good 15 minutes of panic and the alarm system refusing to allow the bike to start we found the Ignition Control Unit had managed to slip its mounting and the connection had got loose. Simple fix. Plug it back in and away we go.</div>
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We went out with Tino again for a meal that night. We paid for the meal this time and Tino dropped us off back home. When I asked how much for the bike he shrugged it off. This was two days of hard work and he didn't ask for a penny. Can't thank you enough Tino.</div>
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The next morning we set off for Lago De Yojoa in the mountains. The bike was running great, I had a big smile on my face and heather was probably looking forward to a part of the trip that doesn't center around motorbikes! So naive.</div>
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ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-55961792636316377012013-06-13T04:05:00.000+01:002013-06-13T04:08:10.480+01:00On the road again...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been a bit of a while but I'm finally back on the road again. And not alone either. Most of you will know Heather but for those of you that don't a little update. I'd just ridden down through Mexico, Guatemala and was in Honduras. I completed my MSDT, master scuba diver trainer, course and was working in Alton's Dive Center. Happily minding my own business, enjoying sun, sea, diving and along came Heather to ruin it all. She had just finished working on a marine biology project in Belize and was in Utila to do her Advanced, Rescue and Dive Master training. We met, one thing led to another (a chance encounter with a pod of dolphins on our first date might have helped) and we were hooked. We were only together for three weeks and just before she was about to leave I asked her what next. Somehow we both agreed to go to south Korea in the new year and teach English.<br />
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After a year of living together, teaching together and generally being around each other a lot things seemed to be going well and I asked her to join me on the motorbike trip the rest of the way down to Argentina. She said yes and so that's where we are. Pretty brief sum up of the last two years but it covers the major points.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uHHf4cDHXW0/Ubkp8tzZgJI/AAAAAAAABNY/ZzpxMJ2jB5U/s1600/PICT0035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uHHf4cDHXW0/Ubkp8tzZgJI/AAAAAAAABNY/ZzpxMJ2jB5U/s320/PICT0035.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Heather (she's the pretty one)</td></tr>
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After Korea Heather actually went home for a few months and I headed back to Honduras where I've been working as an instructor again. I made some great new friends there and had a brilliant time. I've had to leave my Utilian family behind now but we were a close group who really cared for each other. I hope to meet all of them along the road again. Utila is a world within a world. It's very hard to describe without actually going but I highly recommend it. The easiest way to describe it are the three lies of Utila. 1. I love you, 2. I'm not drinking tonight, 3. I'm leaving on the morning ferry. Everyone hits one or two of them, most people hit all three. It's a place that's hard to leave and drags you into the lifestyle very quickly. Hard to resist a hammock on the dock all day watching the sun set and then partying until it rises again. Visit if you get the chance.<br />
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Heather arrived back in Honduras on the 3rd of June, by this time I was supposed to have the bike mechanically sound and ready to go. Needless to say that didn't happen. She'd been sitting in a dusty garage for a year and taken for occasional rides. The rinse and repeat schedule of my maintenance attempts went something like this: Choose a problem to fix, start work, fix problem and find a bigger problem in the same area, get overwhelmed by problems and halt maintenance. Try again, same again etc. It was impossible to get parts and the local mechanics were freaking useless. One example was a mechanic who was supposed to change the brake fluid and install new brake pads. When I went to pickup the bike there was brake fluid everywhere including the brake disc and pads. Luckily I was able to get to the pads before they were ruined and clean them up. Anyway the end result was Heather arriving to me stressed out, a very sick motorbike and general chaos.</div>
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I went to pick up Heather in San Pedro where we planned to stay one night, head back to Utila and stay in a bit of luxury accommodation for a week. Instead Heather arrived and I dragged her around San Pedro searching for a tyre and various other spare parts. So much for the romantic reunion. Luckily I met a unique individual called Tino. He helped me find everything I needed but more on Tino later.</div>
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As a recovery from the dismal start in SP a friend of mine, Rob, offered to let us stay in the <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g292020-d1432002-Reviews-Lazy_Daze_on_the_Bay-Utila_Bay_Islands.html">Lazy Daze Boat House</a>. We stayed for the week in a bit of air conditioned luxury right across from the Alton's dock and enjoyed every minute of it. Including the shouting and invasions from the old team. Over the week we managed to get a little bit of diving in, a little bit of drinking and just relax and enjoy ourselves. before we really started the trip.</div>
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I'll leave you with a couple of Diving photos.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cr_4PxQ5VAM/Ubkx2SLBz3I/AAAAAAAABO4/3XFdYU4yOYQ/s1600/PICT0002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cr_4PxQ5VAM/Ubkx2SLBz3I/AAAAAAAABO4/3XFdYU4yOYQ/s320/PICT0002.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather diving</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JivYadxbaX8/Ubkx5ISUIzI/AAAAAAAABPA/7qT3Wi4rL1I/s1600/PICT0012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JivYadxbaX8/Ubkx5ISUIzI/AAAAAAAABPA/7qT3Wi4rL1I/s320/PICT0012.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trumpet fish trying to hide</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uMZBtjVagbU/Ubkx1bTKjiI/AAAAAAAABOw/4FhMoYwUPL4/s1600/PICT0057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uMZBtjVagbU/Ubkx1bTKjiI/AAAAAAAABOw/4FhMoYwUPL4/s320/PICT0057.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside some coral</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zc-aS1uEG5U/Ubkx7l9IGlI/AAAAAAAABPI/TT2A0Bblm0Q/s1600/PICT0058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zc-aS1uEG5U/Ubkx7l9IGlI/AAAAAAAABPI/TT2A0Bblm0Q/s320/PICT0058.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Damsel Fish</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jcdjkWUFE3Y/Ubkx_IhgCnI/AAAAAAAABPQ/QV9g9aGHbK4/s1600/PICT0062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jcdjkWUFE3Y/Ubkx_IhgCnI/AAAAAAAABPQ/QV9g9aGHbK4/s320/PICT0062.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">French Angel Fish</td></tr>
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We left Utila on the 10th but that's probably enough for now. Next update coming soon. It might even include some actual motorcycle travel.</div>
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ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-69114701095891555152011-04-17T18:31:00.000+01:002011-04-17T18:31:41.444+01:00From Nogales to Creel, my first week in Mexico<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So I'm in Mexico... Have been for two weeks now. I crossed the border at Nogales on the 2<sup>nd</sup> or 3<sup>rd</sup> with a recently faked driving licence. Mine has expired you see and I didn't realise. I only actually found out a day before I had to cross so rushed to the copy shop and did a quick bit of editing. Added an extra 7 years to the life of the licence though I am expecting my new one in the post eventually. The border crossing went very smoothly all things considered. I expected a lot of hassle with documents and language difficulties but in the end it was a rubber stamp job. Even getting the temporary import for the bike was easy if not very quick.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As was always my intention I wanted to get away from the border areas as quickly as possible. This is where the drug wars are carried out. The town of Juarez is considered the murder capital of the world with almost 6000 murders last year alone. I assume most of them were drug related. So, with this knowledge in mind I proceeded to drive for nearly two hours along the border.... My crossing was considerably further east of where I wanted to go than I expected but the ride was worth it. A mix of vast empty expanses and mountains. A combination I found very agreeable. When I was bored of long straights there would be a long twisty section and just when I felt like my arms would give out a straight would appear. Towards the end of the day my arch nemesis showed up and I spent 100 or so clicks riding at 20 degrees off vertical just to cope with the wind. I have developed quite a technique. Hang off the side of the bike into the wind and pretend you are trying to turn. It works and at least it saved the rubber from the center of the tire.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I arrived in Neuvo Casas Grandes well before sunset and found the Hotel California down a backstreet. This would be home for the next couple of days while I orientated myself and made a proper plan. As far as plans go mine didn't last long. I intended to visit Pequime on Monday followed by a ride to a small cliff side settlement and then back to the hotel. Nothing is open in Mexico on a Monday so instead I took photos of random things</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V-Zs70Wm0Bs/TasaArDt_KI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/7G2aLbhkV-A/s1600/GOPR0315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V-Zs70Wm0Bs/TasaArDt_KI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/7G2aLbhkV-A/s320/GOPR0315.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A friendly horse</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V24f1BHsWwA/TasaRqxjUhI/AAAAAAAAAVU/ata5unOAzR4/s1600/GOPR0320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V24f1BHsWwA/TasaRqxjUhI/AAAAAAAAAVU/ata5unOAzR4/s320/GOPR0320.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A small shrine at the side of the road. There are hundreds<br />
of these all over mexico. Also there are many crosses by the<br />
side of the road, sometimes a group of 4 or 5 crosses.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-38_eLcgLiiw/TasajSOqkaI/AAAAAAAAAVY/LYHRigRkbFs/s1600/GOPR0322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-38_eLcgLiiw/TasajSOqkaI/AAAAAAAAAVY/LYHRigRkbFs/s320/GOPR0322.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the shrine</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7iRoxXC2a-g/Tasayjq1vVI/AAAAAAAAAVc/6snsX5OX3r4/s1600/GOPR0323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7iRoxXC2a-g/Tasayjq1vVI/AAAAAAAAAVc/6snsX5OX3r4/s320/GOPR0323.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cross on top of a hill near Casas Grandes</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nvUmmfps6FM/TasbSdcHJYI/AAAAAAAAAVg/nlnjRbDM45g/s1600/GOPR0333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nvUmmfps6FM/TasbSdcHJYI/AAAAAAAAAVg/nlnjRbDM45g/s320/GOPR0333.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The classic Pequiem photo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ykbNLlSfs9M/TasbjXPj2iI/AAAAAAAAAVk/Hs1vEUNO91E/s1600/GOPR0351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ykbNLlSfs9M/TasbjXPj2iI/AAAAAAAAAVk/Hs1vEUNO91E/s320/GOPR0351.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the cliffside settlement</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sswd16FiIjM/Tasb0MsUDuI/AAAAAAAAAVo/w9r3Cg9xOlQ/s1600/GOPR0352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sswd16FiIjM/Tasb0MsUDuI/AAAAAAAAAVo/w9r3Cg9xOlQ/s320/GOPR0352.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the view from the settlement. Not bad to wake upto huh?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So instead I visited on Tuesday and planned to go to the cliff settlement and ride straight on through to Madera. It took a mere two hours of riding to reach the cliffs and then a further two hours of riding to reach..... Casas Grandes, back where I started. The road had been closed after the settlement so I had to break the cardinal rule and ride the same road twice.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The off roading was gorgeous and I managed to get a video clip using the gopro. What beat everything though was the genuine, ten gallon hat, boots and oversized belt buckled cowboys. I passed several along the road and each gave me a tip of the hat. I was half expecting gunslingers to come running out of the brush.</div></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/7ekTAt5m00U?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7ekTAt5m00U">also available here</a><br />
<br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I finally reached Madera as the sun started to set. It was beautiful as it went down behind the mountains the sky was lit up with shades of reds, pinks and blues. I even managed to howl at it a few times while grinning like an idiot. (the howling probably implies the idiot part but there ya go)</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z00tRSbDdeM/TasdUa7wFWI/AAAAAAAAAVs/X-3Kv2JnQDY/s1600/GOPR0372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z00tRSbDdeM/TasdUa7wFWI/AAAAAAAAAVs/X-3Kv2JnQDY/s320/GOPR0372.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sun setting just outside of Madera, Unfortunately the<br />
camera failed to capture all the colours</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I stayed in Madera two days. The weather was pleasantly cool and the people were kind enough not to rush my halting spanish. I also managed to finally lengthen my sidestand. If you remember back in Nepal I raised the bike by about 3cms, one unexpected result of this was that everytime I put the bike on the stand it would feel like it was about to fall over. It also meant it was heavy to pickup off the stand. Now with an extra 2cm it is as close to perfect as I need. When I tried to pay the owner of the shop refused to accept my money and even handed me a bottle of engine oil for the trip. I got a few contact details for the next town and called it a night</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The next day I headed on a short ride to Cuatemoc. Here I was to meet a Honda dealer who was going to help me get a new bash plate made for the bike. I found him easily enough on the side of the main road into town and, for the first time in a week had someone who spoke fluent English to talk to. We were soon visiting one of his employees brothers who was going to make the plate and planned a trip to see the Mennonites while the work was being done. The Mennonites are blonde haired, blue eyed Germans who used to live in Canada. They like to stick to their own ways without government interference and, in Mexico it seems, they have found their home. Just north of the main city is their “town” which has a better resemblance to heavy farming communities in America than it does to anything in Mexico. We spent the day seeing the sights and doing quite a lot of business along the way. By the time we got back the bash plate was finished..... I am now fully prepared for IEDs in Afghanistan!</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v0yet5KkoHI/TasfPlN7D4I/AAAAAAAAAVw/SV53vLPMb9Y/s1600/GOPR0402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v0yet5KkoHI/TasfPlN7D4I/AAAAAAAAAVw/SV53vLPMb9Y/s320/GOPR0402.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new bash plate</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Some modifications will be done to slim it down a tad.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The following morning I said my goodbyes and headed off.... in, you guessed it, gale force winds. The kind of language I discovered I knew that day does not need repeating. It did eventually calm down though and I made it to Creel in the Copper Canyon. There was one small stop along the way. We had to wait for two hours for a mixed class road rally. I took the opportunity to practice my filming and editing skills. The short clip below is just around the corner from the police checkpoint we had to wait at.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/GAgIiBYT8P4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a href="http://youtu.be/GAgIiBYT8P4">Also available here</a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So Creel.... I think I will leave it there for now. Its been a long day and there is a lot more to write about. Right now I am down in Mazatlan on the West coast. Going to get a new tire tomorrow and maybe modify the bash plate. For now though I am going to eat Tacos, take a Spanish lesson and hit the sack.</div></div>ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-46301309728331415932011-04-01T04:48:00.000+01:002011-04-01T04:48:45.546+01:00You're in Buckeye now baby!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Ooops I missed my deadline. Missed alot of them recently actually. Since my last post I've been worrying quite considerably about the bike. The speedo and odometer have not been working, combined with the continually faulty Honda fuel guage I've been, on the most part, guessing my fuel range and regulaly ran dry. Performance had been an issue with the bike running out of power at about 70mph and a complete lack of tread on my front tire. Although these are not major issues by themselves I have been riding with a feeling of doom. Waiting for a wheel to fall off or for something to explode with the result being a painful bloody mess. As I have been riding along these images would come into my head and they were not confidence building. I had searched for help in San Fran and someone offered but in my haste to find sunshine I pushed on South to LA.<br />
<br />
The ride from San Fran to LA was fairly nice, apart from the rain but I was used to it now so mostly ignored it or hid under whatever shelter was available. I took the 101 down the coast to LA and had originally decided not to go all the way there. In the end it seemed easier to make the final push and I arrived at Venice Beach incident free just as the sun was going down. I even managed to check into a reasonably clean hostel. In the couple of days in LA I managed to pick up two parking tickets on the same day in the same parking spot (if you get a ticket in the morning DONT remove it). On the bright side I will not be paying the tickets as I doubt I will be back in LA any time soon and for sure not with the Alp.<br />
<br />
In LA I finally started sulking about the bike, she needed a good pampering and I didn't have the resources, the facilities or the know-how. I reached out to <a href="http://www.advrider.com/">www.advrider.com</a> and asked for help. Almost instantly I got a response from DSM8. He sent me a PM and got in touch on the phone. Long story short, we arranged to meet the following day. In the meantime I started sourcing parts. Essentials that I needed basically came down to a new chain and sprockets. My old chain disintigrating on the way down the Oregon coast. I decided to make one last attempt at money saving and started calling round asking for sponsorship. Chad at <a href="http://www.mid-citieshonda.com/">Mid Cities Honda</a> came back and said that if I could ride in they would see what they could do to help out. With no fuss at all I was told I could have a new chain and sprockets and an oil change all at cost price and no labour charges. Also a free, all american, hot dog. Although because it is a european bike I would need to wait till monday for them to be fitted. <br />
<br />
It's not much in terms of total cost however the kindness of the people and the willingness to help out a traveller was a great reminder that you're never really out on your own.<br />
<br />
I eventually met up with Dave at his house. He wasn't there at the time but had left the garage open for me with a firm warning that if I touched the KTMs and they didn't kill me he would. I soon learnt that this friendly ribbing from the gun touting american would be par for course over the next few days.<br />
<br />
Dave had left his garage for me to start work and I soon had the faring off trying to fix the Odo and the fuel guage. Turns out a small plastic gear had worn out near the front wheel. This gear drives a cable which in turn drives the odometer. I eventually decided on bending some parts to bring the worn out gear back in contact with the wheel. Thankfully, rather than exploding, I now know how far and how fast I am travelling. From this I can also guess my fuel range. Also managed to confirm that the fuel gauge was (in technical terms) fucked. When Dave came home we fitted a new tire to the front (kindly donated by dave) and made plans for the weekend. I was duely informed that if I did not want to attend the ADV rally in Death Valley he would introduce me to the method of transporting recently killed dear and strap me to the hood of his truck. We both agreed travelling by bike would be better and so started packing for the trip.<br />
<br />
The ride from LA to Death Valley was almost exactly 200 miles and there must have been about 4 corners the whole way. The ride was mostly uneventful apart from leaning about 10 degrees to the left the whole way to compensate for the absurd amount of wind. Dave had my luggage in his truck so it was fairly easy riding. We arrived at the Panamint Springs campsite in the early afternoon to a scene of pure havock as people attempted to erect their tents in 55mph gusts. My georgous 1 man tent went up in about 5 minutes with no fuss at all and we preceeded to wonder around the campsite ogling near enough 100 bikes.<br />
<br />
The folk here were mostly hardcore offroaders with a tendancy to the insane. They thought I was mad and I thought they were mad. It was a match made in insanity. That first night beer and conversation flowed in equal amounts. There was even some green smoke in the air. I didn't manage to meet a single person I didn't like as everyone was friendly and basically out for a long weekend of pleasure. That night and the ones to follow all ended in the early hours.<br />
<br />
On Friday morning I met up with two bikers, one on a seriously modified 89 TA and we planned to head to the old Manson house (Home of the notorious Charles Manson) however, and I made plenty of excuses for this, I did not feel comfortable riding through the sand. I blame a dead chain, a round sprocket and a pure road tire. None of these excuses made me feel better as I turned around and headed back to camp.<br />
<br />
I spent the rest of the day planning a road route around the local DV sites and the next day I grouped up with Bronwyn and Rob for a ride to Deadwater. The lowest point in the US at -238ft. Named badwater for the fact that the water was very very bad. The salt flats spread out from this point covering the land far into the distance. All in it was a good days ride. Just cruising around at about 80mph and stopping regulaly for photos. That night Pablo, who had set up a refuelling point which no-one had visited, set up a different type of fueling point and gave me free access to it. ERROR! I barely left the keg alone all night and people began to comment on the Welsh never being far from the beer.<br />
<br />
Sunday morning we said our goodbyes, loaded the bikes into the truck (my chain was truely dead by this point) and drove back to LA. With daves help and more than a few suggestions I managed to clean the carbs, flush the radiator, melt my bash plate and fit a drip fed chain oiler. Monday afternoon I rode to Mid Cities and had my new chain and sprockets fitted. Now, with all but the fuel gauge working I had confidence in the bike again. I was to spend one more night with Dave before heading back on the road. When he got back from work Dave decided it was time to unload some of his old gear so I have recently aquired a new bed roll and winter gloves. A small bit of America will now travel with me wherever I go whether I like it or not.<br />
<br />
Since leaving LA I have once again met up with Bronwyn, a crazy Aussie chick with a welsh name who once lived in Dublin, Edingburgh and Seattle who is now on a trans-america trip. We met up in Joshua tree NP and camped the night there. The next morning we loaded the bikes in brilliant sunshine and, on the bare minimum of gear headed through Joshua Tree and on to....... You guessed it..... BUCKEYE!<br />
<br />
Yes, the grand city of Buckeye is where we are currently residing in a stupidly overpriced motel with about a million truckers. It's as backwater as the name suggests but its a bed and a shower. God knows I needed one. Tomorrow we head to Tucson then Amado for the Overland Expo where I hope to find more sponsorship and pick up the last few bits and peices I need before heading into Mexico.<br />
<br />
I was not prepared for the States but hopefully with the help of a few friends I am now ready to go on.<br />
<br />
Photos below:<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QkP6okHa4n4/TZVD2PK-SuI/AAAAAAAAAT4/OXGUsPqwfOQ/s1600/GOPR0173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QkP6okHa4n4/TZVD2PK-SuI/AAAAAAAAAT4/OXGUsPqwfOQ/s320/GOPR0173.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to LA trying to outrun the clouds. I failed!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p_l769DBz04/TZVD711syEI/AAAAAAAAAT8/7GmU5xNVOjY/s1600/GOPR0185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p_l769DBz04/TZVD711syEI/AAAAAAAAAT8/7GmU5xNVOjY/s320/GOPR0185.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still going down Hwy 1, Finally some georgous weather</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOuw1nhWqU0/TZVD_rzdkPI/AAAAAAAAAUA/OT6T_DLT6Jc/s1600/GOPR0192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOuw1nhWqU0/TZVD_rzdkPI/AAAAAAAAAUA/OT6T_DLT6Jc/s320/GOPR0192.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair.....</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h4xMaYAIK9Y/TZVFU5GlkMI/AAAAAAAAAVA/Sjny3EDDjHU/s1600/IMG_0189.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h4xMaYAIK9Y/TZVFU5GlkMI/AAAAAAAAAVA/Sjny3EDDjHU/s320/IMG_0189.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camping with the folks from ADVrider</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6w3SDemgNgw/TZVE6D1nkKI/AAAAAAAAAU0/jaz0tjzTz4c/s1600/IMG_0181.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6w3SDemgNgw/TZVE6D1nkKI/AAAAAAAAAU0/jaz0tjzTz4c/s320/IMG_0181.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water in the desert<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody> </table><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FsH6lMTQmYU/TZVFCJkwguI/AAAAAAAAAU4/Y75eASOw744/s1600/IMG_0182.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FsH6lMTQmYU/TZVFCJkwguI/AAAAAAAAAU4/Y75eASOw744/s320/IMG_0182.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Can he make it?<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody> </table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxNibYE75Wk/TZVFL2MDnEI/AAAAAAAAAU8/9tqW5xaLL8M/s1600/IMG_0183.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxNibYE75Wk/TZVFL2MDnEI/AAAAAAAAAU8/9tqW5xaLL8M/s320/IMG_0183.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NO</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Ferrari</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rob, Oliver and Bronwyn at 283ft below sea level</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mVbbZoPaCXk/TZVEqTTnF7I/AAAAAAAAAUs/Mdc9RKa3wcg/s1600/IMG_0143.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mVbbZoPaCXk/TZVEqTTnF7I/AAAAAAAAAUs/Mdc9RKa3wcg/s320/IMG_0143.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Would sir like chips with his salt?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Death Valley salt flats</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-71QjJ45U_bk/TZVEPEciEYI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/E47V6XqgLng/s1600/GOPR0256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-71QjJ45U_bk/TZVEPEciEYI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/E47V6XqgLng/s320/GOPR0256.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joshua Tree National Park</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KTaUI7ipeak/TZVEXrcBaPI/AAAAAAAAAUY/e9JaAMW-_q8/s1600/GOPR0270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KTaUI7ipeak/TZVEXrcBaPI/AAAAAAAAAUY/e9JaAMW-_q8/s320/GOPR0270.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skull Rock, so named because......</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mBtGWa5lp00/TZVEaopbbYI/AAAAAAAAAUc/xrLGTMnJU60/s1600/GOPR0280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mBtGWa5lp00/TZVEaopbbYI/AAAAAAAAAUc/xrLGTMnJU60/s320/GOPR0280.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just before the sunset at the campground.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gm3D1BMIy5g/TZVEdEIeVKI/AAAAAAAAAUg/JMFsi2XSECE/s1600/GOPR0290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gm3D1BMIy5g/TZVEdEIeVKI/AAAAAAAAAUg/JMFsi2XSECE/s320/GOPR0290.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The setting sun</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-99Zpr3DeaFw/TZVEk17zCqI/AAAAAAAAAUo/wqUCPInUVGA/s1600/GOPR0294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-99Zpr3DeaFw/TZVEk17zCqI/AAAAAAAAAUo/wqUCPInUVGA/s320/GOPR0294.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pretty serious Joshua Tree</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LN0XM7BNlXM/TZVFnHRt9ZI/AAAAAAAAAVM/7nrZRuLsKXg/s1600/IMG_0312.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LN0XM7BNlXM/TZVFnHRt9ZI/AAAAAAAAAVM/7nrZRuLsKXg/s320/IMG_0312.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Night night</td></tr>
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</a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LN0XM7BNlXM/TZVFnHRt9ZI/AAAAAAAAAVM/7nrZRuLsKXg/s1600/IMG_0312.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dWSQe04mOXs/TZVEf6ByrSI/AAAAAAAAAUk/Op1D1T4jHHQ/s1600/GOPR0292.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dWSQe04mOXs/TZVEf6ByrSI/AAAAAAAAAUk/Op1D1T4jHHQ/s320/GOPR0292.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My highly organised tent</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZjuDtpAK8eU/TZVFZtlJiKI/AAAAAAAAAVE/9VTrIB6-F8k/s1600/IMG_0224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZjuDtpAK8eU/TZVFZtlJiKI/AAAAAAAAAVE/9VTrIB6-F8k/s320/IMG_0224.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert???</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hBbEGEZu-7g/TZVFgixRJVI/AAAAAAAAAVI/Q1x7oItF17c/s1600/IMG_0273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hBbEGEZu-7g/TZVFgixRJVI/AAAAAAAAAVI/Q1x7oItF17c/s320/IMG_0273.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiding from the sun</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YpTh0YewAW0/TZVETJNauZI/AAAAAAAAAUU/s52AZGX3lcQ/s1600/GOPR0265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YpTh0YewAW0/TZVETJNauZI/AAAAAAAAAUU/s52AZGX3lcQ/s320/GOPR0265.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A final shot of the JT National Park</td></tr>
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</div>ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-64399895849121416222011-03-19T03:15:00.000+00:002011-03-19T03:15:48.003+00:00Seattle to San Francisco. Rain, snow, tsunami, tornado<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cami5FPJp2s/TYQedSGJlSI/AAAAAAAAAT0/QcwqIzY_07A/s1600/GOPR0131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>So much for every Monday huh? I have a good excuse though. A Korean man stole my netbook about 6 months ago and along Highway 101 they have only wifi and no real computers. My theory is that no backpackers really take that route and as such there are no hostels. They have alot of RV parks (camper vans) and motels and even camping. Each option is horribly overpriced and only has wifi.<br />
<br />
So, Seattle to San Fran in 5 days. Not sure if that is quick or slow but it certainly wasn't fun. Infact I think I will happily put the Oregon coast as a place to never ever take a motorbike. I left Kevins place at about 11 on Monday morning planning to blast down the I5 into Seattle, pick up a couple of packages I had delivered and then down to Portland and the legendary Highway 101. The plan was sound the execution was not. Within 15 minutes of leaving I'd picked up a puncture and had shredded the inner tube to pieces (literally) trying to get off the interstate. Fortunatly Alex had decided to give me an escort into Seattle so by the time I got off the interstate I met him on a smaller highway and we went in search of somewhere to replace the tube. A local garage didn't mind us using one of the bays so we got the spare out. In true comedic style the spare had a puncture which we patched up and fitted. This took some time and as we were about to leave Alex recieved a call.... I'd left my GoPro behind. Seems the puncture was a bit of a godsend as I would have been long gone otherwise. So a quick U-turn (called Whipping a bitch in the US) back to Kevins, grab the camera and onward to Seattle where I picked up a wetsuit, a BCD, regs and a diving knife. My bike is now thoroughly overloaded! Alex pointed the way South and we parted company. We'll meet again somewhere down in Mexico I am sure.<br />
<br />
15 minutes out of Seattle and guess what? Apparently We were not good tyre repair people. I felt the rear end go soft and start weaving across the road! Not fun. Hazards on and teeth tightly gritted I weaved through 3 lanes of traffic to the hard shoulder. Standing by the side of the road contemplating another hour changing tubes and another angel of the road pulls onto the shoulder infront of me. Lance, the legend and a rider of a most majestic bike, a 1989 Honda Transalp, jumps out of his car and walks on over. We soon have the rear wheel off and all my crap loaded into the back of his car. I was a bit anxious leaving the bike behind on the interstate but with little other choice we head towards Lances house. There is an independent bike shop near him so we pick up a new tire and two tubes. Get them fitted, back to the bike and I'm soon on my way again. What can I say but cheers?<br />
<br />
Lance pointed out Canon beach on 101 so I decided to take his advice and just before portland I turned off the I5 and headed to the coast. It had been raining all day and now it was getting dark. The new road was a minor road and had no street lighting. Combined with the rain it was too much and I pulled into a motel for the night. Hands and feet white and wrinkled from wearing wet clothes I curled into bed shivering having only covered 130 miles!<br />
<br />
The next day, and up early for a long ride to make up for the previous day. I looked out the window and the sun was shining. I could see the road for a few miles and it was all twisty. A grin spread across my face as I hurried into my still damp clothes. I couldn't care less. I was on the road finally after a month of false starts. All was good. As I straddled the bike, rev the engine and wave to the motel owner.... It rains!!! Not just a little bit either. It pisses it down and continues to piss it down for the next 150 miles! Cannon beach? I looked, it was windswept, I carried on. Tillamok with its famous cheese factory? I didn't even slow. I'll give the North Oregon cost one thing. It knows how to throw a good storm. Waves crashing against the cliff face, howling winds and rain driving sideways. At many points spray from the sea would hurl itself onto the road adding to the misery. All it needed was a lone woman standing on the cliff waiting for her fisherman husband to return home and the scene would have been set. I did finally stop in a town called Neskowin. Shivering and looking like a drowned rat I stepped into the relative warmth of a motel reception. $55 for a warm room? Done deal. I checked in, turned on the shower and without getting out of my clothes sat in the bathtub. 6 hours in pouring, freezing rain and again only 150 miles...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-O5-lOrM4Rf4/TYQd_5sdPKI/AAAAAAAAATg/es1CGHrZAyA/s1600/GOPR0027.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-O5-lOrM4Rf4/TYQd_5sdPKI/AAAAAAAAATg/es1CGHrZAyA/s320/GOPR0027.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tsunami + Tree = great place for a fire pit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>By this point I was beginning to think I had been very unlucky to catch such bad weather. I was putting it down to cold fronts and other scientific reasoning but there is a deeper, more malicious story here. For, within 10 minutes of stopping, after I had dragged myself out of the tub and had dressed in fresh warm clothes I decided to make the most of a bad situation. I'd head out to the beach and get some photos of the storm. If not exactly comforting a storm does have a beauty all of its own and it deserved to be photographed just as much as anything else. So warmly dressed and ready to face the storm I head out into the..... sunshine. That's right. The storm cleared and the sun came out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HTOIJ3QyVyQ/TYQeBItSVlI/AAAAAAAAATk/IwY7JnfLVFs/s1600/GOPR0057.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HTOIJ3QyVyQ/TYQeBItSVlI/AAAAAAAAATk/IwY7JnfLVFs/s320/GOPR0057.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moody Ocean</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-sl3sgOiLrrw/TYQeCCs0jeI/AAAAAAAAATo/MZCjmb4xsu8/s1600/GOPR0091.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-sl3sgOiLrrw/TYQeCCs0jeI/AAAAAAAAATo/MZCjmb4xsu8/s320/GOPR0091.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And another one</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Figuring that this at least meant that Wednesday would be a good dry days riding I slept slightly more comfortably. The next morning brought more rain and another long horrible ride. My boots still soaked from the day before had now given up all pretense of being waterproof. My gloves looked and felt like soggy toilet paper. By the end of this day I would have twice poured out about 2 cups of water from each boot and spent half hour in McDonalds warming my entire body under a hand drier.<br />
<br />
There was nothing... NOTHING that could redeem this ride. The roads were beautiful for summer riding but in the heavy rain they caused more depression. As the road turned away from the coast the mountains became an endless source of grief as frozen fingers tried to work the brakes and clutch for each damn corner. My visor steamed up and would not clear and it even hailed at one point making riding with the visor up an impossibility. I had to pullover and wait it out. I was offered sympathies by passing motorists and one lady gave me hot chocolate and a salami sandwich. I did make it through Newport and North bend all the way down to Brookings where I decided to call it a night. Just outside of the Redwood National Park and the real reason I was on the 101. I'd ride the great Avenue of the Giants, drive through the drivethru tree and generally have a good ol time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cami5FPJp2s/TYQedSGJlSI/AAAAAAAAAT0/QcwqIzY_07A/s1600/GOPR0131.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cami5FPJp2s/TYQedSGJlSI/AAAAAAAAAT0/QcwqIzY_07A/s320/GOPR0131.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the big trees</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So it's Thursday morning and guess what? It's raining. I wont bore you. There were some big trees, some of them were huge even. The road would have been great except it was far too slippy to push so more miles passed with little to note the actual passing of time except those key moments when my gloves gave out and water seeped between my fingers. Or when the water, pooled between me and my tank bag, decided it was time for a change of scenery and subsequently drenched my nuts. The first bead of water to roll between my jacket and backpack all the way down to my butt crack. The inevitable shivers!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Friday morning... the last stretch. 150 miles to San Fran. I hadn't planned on visiting but by this point I just really wanted a warm bed and somewhere with other backpackers. The weather forcast for the next 2 hours ride? Rain and Thunderstorms! Tornado warnings and, you guessed it, snow!<br />
<br />
I managed to make one good stop along the way in Ukiah. I stopped in a coffee shop where people took sympathy on me and helped me book a hostel in San Fran. I managed to not take a photo of the Golden Gate Bridge but I did find the hostel on my first attempt.<br />
<br />
I've probably been a bit unfair on the Oregon coast. It was beautiful in its own dramatic way. The riding would be awesome in the summer. I stopped several times to look at the ocean and its ferocity was something else. Speaking to locals I found they had a love hate relationship with the weather. In many ways I think the weather defines life here. In the summer it is warm and beautiful and there is huge tourism. In the winter those who tender to the tourists must deal with regular blackouts. Tsunami warnings and random snow storms all year round. They have a saying here. "If you don't like the weather wait 5 minutes and it will change." I took this advice and in the worst of the storms you could find me sheltering under the nearest awning. One way or another the weather always improved a little bit.<br />
<br />
Going to rest up a day or two here and take a look at the bike. There are a couple of niggling problems I would like to fix (the front tire has, in parts, split in two) and she is seriously lacking power. Probably one of the carbs is gummed up a bit. Wouldn't mind doing a dyno run as well but beggers cant be choosers.<span id="goog_567674750"></span><span id="goog_567674751"></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-jDHDMMP10bc/TYQeDBv_QGI/AAAAAAAAATs/13O-AQL2M6Q/s1600/GOPR0103.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-jDHDMMP10bc/TYQeDBv_QGI/AAAAAAAAATs/13O-AQL2M6Q/s320/GOPR0103.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were at least a few moments of good weather</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-28166316075723139522011-03-07T06:30:00.002+00:002011-03-07T19:36:59.821+00:00Just an update<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Not much to report but in the spirit of regular blogging here is an update.<br />
<br />
So I told you that my ride was booked to reach Vancouver and if everything had gone to plan I would be there now. Instead I received an email a day before we were going to ship the bike which said "we suspect a 90-95% chance your bike would receive moderate to serious damage during transport. It is unlikely it would be ridable at the delivery destination"<br />
<br />
Errr wot???? So as you can imagine this option was very quickly removed from the table. Fortunately I made a few posts on Kijiji.ca requesting assistance and someone got in touch. Big ups to David from Edmonton who has saved me from the pits of despair. He has a 1 ton truck and is heading West to Vancouver on Tuesday the 8th. Spoken to David a couple of times since he contacted me and we are going to load the bike on Tuesday morning and plan to be in Vancouver by the evening. He's even offered to help with accommodation in Vancouver. Brilliant!<br />
<br />
In other bike related news everything is ready to go, I even have a new tank bag from Al which is going to be a God send further down the road allowing me to keep a map in full view and other essential stuff close to hand. Also made one or two big ticket purchases including a GoPro helmet cam and some diving equipment. As you can probably tell I am very much ready to go now and have been for a while. Once in Vancouver I really don't care if it is raining.<br />
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So, if you happen to be reading this from somewhere along the West Coast, keep an eye out for a grinning, soaking wet Welshman heading south.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K_QJgNJ09wY/TXUzCzEGSjI/AAAAAAAAATc/pvMWQKf_Cdc/s1600/Bryn%252C+Rhys%252C+Ol_Mar2011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K_QJgNJ09wY/TXUzCzEGSjI/AAAAAAAAATc/pvMWQKf_Cdc/s320/Bryn%252C+Rhys%252C+Ol_Mar2011.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bryn Rhys and guess who? My cousins and I for the <br />
obligatory family photo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>ps. Checkout the new map on the right. The old one was a bit bloated so this one will be purely for this leg of the trip. </div>ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-43356267271330672862011-02-28T23:27:00.004+00:002011-03-01T01:16:55.021+00:00On the road again......Been a while huh? Well I'll do a quick recap on the last year without boring you too much. I've been working for a living (how dreadful) in South Korea in a city called Wonju. The lonely planet refers to Wonju as "possibly the worst city in Korea" but I have to disagree. It's a small place with around 200,000 people. Plenty of shops, good restaurants and places to hang out. The nightlife lacks a bit with no real clubs but you can always find a good place to go to pass the time until the sun rises.<br /><br />If you ever do find yourself in Wonju then I highly recommend Family Mart drinking. This is a highly complex social and cultural gathering in which you congregate near a family mart with friends and consume large quantities of an alcoholic beverage known as soju. This is usually combined with beer to create someck. During this gathering it is expected that you talk crap for hours on end, do not leave before sunrise and occasionally try to converse, in konglish, with the locals.<br /><br />Memories of that kind of summer night in Wonju will be my everlasting memory of Korea.<br /><br />I did teach English, at various levels, for 5 days a week. Sometimes the lessons were great and had some really good banter with the kids and other times I would spend an entire lesson being hit by several very small children. Korea can be a very random place and sometimes the things that happen blow your mind for the absurdity of it. I had a class turn up stark naked because there wasn't enough time for them to change after swimming lessons and everyone seemed to think that this was a perfectly normal way to teach a lesson. I also had one class dressed entirely in Hambo (traditional clothing) and found out on that day that I too would be wearing traditional clothing, cooking at eating traditional food and learning to play the a traditional musical instrument.<br /><br />So yeah... Random... I suppose I love and hate Korea. Sometimes I was driven insane by the quirks but in the end I made some great friends and had some great experiences and really there isn't much more you can ask for in life.<br /><br />Anyway, about 2 weeks ago I left Korea. We all went to Seoul for a proper goodbye. Got truly hammered in the night and said our teary goodbyes the next morning. Going to miss my group of friends more than I will miss the country. We had some great times causing several international incidents.<br /><br />So yeah, after that I spent a night in a hostel feeling incredibly lonely before almost missing my flight the next day. The flight, like many, was long, boring and seriously lacking in entertainment. The only movie was an Indian film with Chinese subtitles.<br /><br />16 hours wouldn't have been so bad except that, after arriving in Vancouver I needed to catch a bus to Edmonton. That's a 16 hour bus ride for those that don't know. They didn't even turn the TVs on this time. I've finished 3 books in about 3 days...<br /><br />In Edmonton now staying with family. My Uncle Alan, Auntie Anne and their son Bryn. Hopefully I will see Rhys too before I leave. I have been reunited with my bike after about 15 months. It is in better condition than when I last saw it thanks to my Uncle who is a big bike fan himself.<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />The following two pics are of the bike as it arrived in Edmonton. Tightly packed up for shipping and after (a probably very frustrating) few hours rebuilding.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WDHfS0MvBr4/TWw8QED3UFI/AAAAAAAAASk/tBwNIED_3qk/s1600/temp1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WDHfS0MvBr4/TWw8QED3UFI/AAAAAAAAASk/tBwNIED_3qk/s320/temp1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578900285070725202" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bo4LeUm0ok4/TWw8QRMVprI/AAAAAAAAASs/SfOb5VVpvlY/s1600/temp2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bo4LeUm0ok4/TWw8QRMVprI/AAAAAAAAASs/SfOb5VVpvlY/s320/temp2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578900288595928754" border="0" /></a>It seems one of the fork seals blew on the trip over so Alan fixed that up, got some new fittings for the faring and windshield which should reduce any rattle and changed some pipes which were leaking. We've also had to adjust the chain which had 118 links instead of 110 so we broke the chain and found out the o-ring chain was two wide for the only masterlink we had available. Correcting this involved taking a grinding tool to one of the sideplates making it a bit thinner and removing the o-rings and the metal loops they sat on. This will be something I will be keeping a very close eye on until the chain is replaced.<br /><br />Finally a new battery fitted and a few nuts n bolts replaced and it appears we are good to go. I'm working out what can stay and what can go when it comes to luggage as there seems to be considerably more clothing now than there used to be plus all my scuba gear.<br /><br />So why haven't I left you ask? Why, with miles and miles of open road ahead of me and all the possibilities, am I sitting inside typing away and staring out the window? Well, -23 Celsius and 2 inches of snow a day can seriously put a dampener on a bikers spirit. With a little bit of help and a lot of googling I finally found a shipping company who is willing to throw my bike in the back of a truck that is deadheading over to Vancouver. So I'll be on a bus soon enough heading back to Vancouver myself. Should be back on the bike by Monday or Tuesday next week.<br /><br />Excited? Just a tad. Bought a LP for Mexico today and tried to pick up some maps for the US and Central America. Few things left to buy but they can wait till the US where they are a bit cheaper. Should have a GoPro head cam soon and a new netbook to edit the videos.<br /><br />Weekly updates this time around? I can't promise anything but I will try to keep Monday as my posting day and we'll see what happens. Should have videos and photos from the bike this time too.<br /></div>ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-75006260486691334732010-02-28T06:31:00.002+00:002010-06-07T17:11:36.524+01:00Christmas in Walesapparently I offended people with this post. It was supposed to be a post about my flaws which friends helped me see but apparently I didn't write it the way I wanted to.<br /><br />Sorry for any offense, I don't want to lose some of my real friends over a badly written blog post and I can promise you that no offense was intended.<br /><br />Olohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-55224658587734431512009-07-29T06:38:00.002+01:002009-07-29T06:55:44.556+01:00The end????The hammock sways slightly and a light breeze runs over my sweating forehead. The sun is high in the sky and it is a sweltering 30 degrees next to me is a table littered with last nights story of empty beer bottles, cigarette ends and a huge pile of chips next to one seat. Two cards lie face up, an Ace and a Queen. I close my eyes and start to fade out listening to the calls of a Gecko shouting its name from my balcony. Lying here doing nothing I know it is over. You can call it a halfway stop, a short break or even just another part of the journey but the truth is it is over. The bike sits infront of the house stripped bare of its travel gear and reduced to short rides to the dive shop or the 7-11. It is always the same road and I always return to the same house.<br /><br />I came to this island originally almost 3 months ago for only 10 days and I think I knew straight away I would be back. As you know I headed off to the jungles of Cambodia and Laos, rode the mountain roads of Northern Thailand and overindulged in Chaing Mai. It wasn't really enjoyable though, Koh Tao was in my heart by then and as much as a place can call you it called. So on the 7th of June I left Chaing Mai and headed South. 1300Km from one end of the country to other. It sounds like a long way but it isn't. Break it down into petrol stops, cig breaks and the odd photo and it soon changes from distance into time and time, in a place like this and on a trip like mine, is irrelivent. Less then 20 uneventful hours later I am a few hundred K's from my destination and right on time for the 9pm car boat to Koh Tao I get a blow out. The front end looses all feeling and I am swerving across the road. A tree barrier protects me from oncoming traffic but I am out of control the bike is driving and I am just a passenger. I glide slowly to a stop, reach for a cigarette but they are gone so I breathe deeply instead.<br /><br />Kit out, Wheel off.... the 10mil spanner warps as I remove the brake calliper. The only god damn 10m spanner I have warps on the brake calliper. I can see the boat sailing away. Solve this, you have a 10m bolt and no 10m spanner. How do you get the bolt out? Answer YOU don't. Sitting by the bike now contemplating what to do and the old saviour comes to hand. I've seen him before but he had a different face then. Now he drives a Hilux and is a tyre salesman. He pulls over and, in broken english, offers to help. He has a tool kit and a pack of smokes. Saved, we soon have the tyre off and the tube out. It's torn, no puncture repair kit in the world is going to fix it. Somehow my spare is torn too. It's just one more sign. ...... leaves me a smoke and a bottle of water, takes the tube and drives off, 20 minutes later he is back with the tube and we put the wheel back on. He gives me contacts for all over Southern Thailand and then he drives off.<br /><br />I don't know if I believe in angels but what I do believe in are people who are just that little bit more decent than the rest of us. Those people always stop and help when someone is in need no matter how busy they are or what is on their mind. More people like that could only be a good thing.<br /><br />I arrived at 9pm expecting to have missed my boat but it had been delayed and wasn't leaving till 11pm. I'm on the island by 6am and lying in a hammock by a deserted beach as the sun rises.<br /><br />It's either ironic or fitting that my journey ended the same way it began. A long ride, a short nights stopover, once with my brother and once alone, and a badly timed boat crossing once from and once to an insignificant yet deeply personal island. <br /><br />I've been here a month now yet a part of me still itches, still waits to leave. I know myself I am staying but how to convince that part of me that sent me out here in the first place? People here ask me “where next?” and I don't really have an answer. The plan is still there but does it fit any more? Is it even possible? Money? Time? Desire? There are too many questions and no answers because honestly I am happy here. Why think about the future when it is now that is good? Tomorrow the only decisions I have to make are Do I dive? Do I lay in my hammock? Night in or night out? They are not hard questions and whatever the answer it is always the right one. So I lay in my hammock and as I drift off I know it is over. For now, at least, I've stopped.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Ok bit of an epilogue or something here. This blog has probably been as important as the trip itself to me. For one it has helped me to understand things better. To write about it I have to consider what has happened more deeply than I would otherwise and that is a good thing. More importantly it has been my connection with home. A weak connection as far as they go but as good a one as I was able to hold. So I thank you for reading and, for a little time each month or so, thinking about me. When I needed it most there was always someone from home or my past who had just the right words at just the right time. I can't thank you enough. You stopped me from stopping, you gave me strength when I had none. Sorry I am smiling as I write this, I am remembering the bad times and I am smiling so I think that sums it up. You made even the bad times a good memory.<br /><br />So many people to thank but only one to mention by name. Thanks Mum, for always always believing in me and supporting me no matter what. There is nothing I can possibly say to thank you for the encouragement you gave me from the first day I considered this trip. No scrap that, from the first day I took a breathe on this earth. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-68365286017783243702009-06-07T04:43:00.003+01:002009-06-07T05:47:04.413+01:00Beauty and the LeachIt's 30 degrees and the humidity is a physical weight on your shoulders. Hours have passed since you last saw the sun and it feels like you will never see it again. The ground is crawling with bugs, huge lines of ants work together to carry away their latest kill and their bites sting your bare legs. You tredge forward, one foot infront of another minute after minute hour after hour and all you can see in every direction is a dense green. Stopping would mean allowing yourself to think about all the discomfort, the cramps in your legs and the sweat pouring down your back so you keep on walking onward deeper and deeper into the unknown. Welcome to the Cambodian jungle.<br /><br />Ok so in my last post I left you just after I met ........ so if I say “the next day” it means the day after the day I met them.<br /><br />The next day we hired bicycles and rode the 14km to the dolphin sanctuary. A good ride with no rain, we left early to miss the heat and as the road was so flat we arrived at about 10. Along the way I got to know them a bit better as we talked about our journeys, they had all met on the bus from Laos and, with a welsman thrown in, it was a bit of an international group. At the sanctuary we went out in two boats to see the dolphins, the photos are not so great but it was good to see them rising out of the murky water to take a breathe. We saw a pod of about 5 dolphins and a mother and cub. We rode back in the midday sun. It took longer and we stopped to checkout a temple that had images that depicted heaven and hell which is not supposed to exist in the buddhist culture. The temple had a cult feel to it and, being midday, it was deserted which made it all a bit creepy.<br /><br />By the time we had got back we all had various degrees of sun burn, fortunately I wasn't the worst for once and I didn't peel but a few beers and a nice meal made the pain go away and we started talking about where we were going next. I had planned to go North to Laos but figured a small detour would be no problem so agreed to go to Sen Monorow with them. The next morning we left in convoy with me following the pickup so I didn't have to navigate but I soon got bored of the speed and so headed off infront with the intention of sorting out the hostel before they arrived.<br /><br />Within 5 minutes of leaving them behind I took a wrong turning and almost illegally crossed the Vietnam border. The big men with guns decided for me that it was the wrong way so I turned back around and found the right turning. By now it was all offroad riding. The mud was in good condition so I got some speed going and was soon flying along. Every now and again there was tarmac so I was making really good time. The road conditions changed pretty quickly though and I was riding too fast. I came to a bridge that was no more and had to ride through the river. Walked through it once to check the depth. Stared at it for 10 minutes, walked through it a second time to take stuff over that I really didnt want to get wet and then went with the bike. The water came up over the wheels so was at least 21 inches deep and the force of it was incredible. The bike was slipping further sideways than it was going forward but, with the help of some locals, I made it over and emptied half the river out of my boots. Back on the bike and the road turned to thick wet mud. I was surprised at how difficult it was to ride and had to really slow down, unfortunately I still lost control and dropped the bike. One of the panniers was ripped clean off my bike and the front end had dug into the ground breaking the fairing. I gotta tell you this crash scared me. It was infront of some roadworkers and still mid crash I started screaming for help and not the scream of a man in control. I'll never forget it "fuck fuck fuck help HEEELLLP God it hurts Please help me, please" My voice broke and I was close to tears. My leg was trapped under the bike and I was freaking out. I was sure it was broken. The irony was that, once the bike was lifted off me, the pain was gone and I was actually pretty much unhurt. I don't know why I panicked but recalling it still sends shivers down my spine.<br /><br />The road turned good again and I was moving at 70mph for the second crash. This time I dropped it on the other side completely destroying the pannier and breaking more plastic. The weird thing was I was going in a straight line. One second I was sitting upright and the next I am sliding down the road with the bike pinning my leg down. I still don't know what happened but the bike took a beating. Breaking the hand protectors and the taillight. No panic this time, just shock.<br /><br />By the time the guys caught up with me I had reached the hotel and was caked in mud. A cold shower kind of cleaned me up a bit but I left the mud all in the bathroom and was really in need of a beer so we walked into town to eat. We found a good place to book a trek and booked 1 days trekking and one nights home stay.<br /><br />The next day 7 of us jumped on the back of scooters and headed into the unknown. We met our guide, stocked up on food, compared machetes and started walking towards the forest. I guess the walk took a total of 6 hours and we covered about 22km. We started in the early morning and finished at about 4pm trekking through open plains and unspoilt forest. We tried wild fruits, Wouter trying them far more than anyone else. Inn fact I don't think I remember a moment where he didn't have a weird pink or orange thing in his hand which he was chewing on. We traversed slippery mud slopes with deep drops on one side and had to hug trees to stop us from falling. Sometimes grabbing something covered with thorns was the only option to save yourself and it wasn't long until the first person fell. Followed by the second then third and then we started a score sheet. By the end of the day we would be too battered to remember the scores but I think Christine "won" After what seemed like days of walking we reached the waterfall where we would have lunch. It was a practical vertical climb down moss covered rocks and once we had navigated that with only a few slips we had to wade through the river still fully booted. We were all soaked in sweat and mud so we stripped down to our boxers and went for a swim under the waterfall. It was incredible sitting under the water letting it fall on your back. The force of it knocked the wind out of you but it felt good. After the punishment of walking the pure water really cleansed and revitalized. After the swim we had lunch and started to head for home. Our guide pointed us back at the vertical climb we had come down and we all groaned. It was not going to be easy going back.<br /><br />Back at the village we started cleaning up, taking our shoes off revealed leeches by the hundreds. Most were dead, crushed by our shoes or poisoned by the paint thinner we had soaked our socks in but some had survived and the blood stain running down my trousers hinted to one such bastard! swear the thing had swollen to the size of my thumb, we cut him open and my blood literally flowed out of him. It was a massacre, we killed them by the tens so they would not make a sneak attack later. Once we were "cleaned up" our hosts brought out more food, beer and rice whisky so we had a game of "21", got wasted and relived our war stories. When the whisky ran dry we carried on the game but switched to water. When everybody finally realised it was water we called it a night and headed into the house.<br /><br />4 of us had to fit under one mosquito net and I was lumped between Christine (who did not stop elbowing me all night) and Wouter (who kept on pushing me into Christines elbows) We probably kept the village awake for several hours by laughing far too loudly. Even the local wildlife probably complained. <br /><br />The next day was a day of rest. We lay back and let the pains pass. Half the group was leaving the next morning but Elje, Christine and me were staying 2 more days for an elephant trek. I've complained about this trek to some friends. The guides didn't speak English, we didn't get to wash the elephants and at one point they abandoned us by the river for 3 hours. It was not what we expected. I did get to 'drive" one though and it was a unique experience. I was told off for complaining. Apparently if I don't think an elephant trek is cool then I have experienced too much which may very well be true. Maybe my expectations are too high now. We did have a laugh though. Someone was filming a TV series called "You the man" which was a show about being manly. These 4 guys dressed up and probably wearing make-up were going into awkward places, blowing on horns and yelling "YOU THE MAN" while being filmed. We watched and placed bets on which one would fall in the river first.<br /><br />Ok, that pretty much sums up cambodia. The following day we all packed and headed in our seperate directions. I have since seen Christine and Elsje again and I am hoping to see the others too. Rob and Roh are now in China, Juan is back home but Rose and Wouter are still in Vietnam. After leaving I rode the same road back and didn't crash, the flooded river crossing had dried up and everything went pretty easy. I made my way to the Laos border and stayed about 40km from it. The next day I crossed without too much hassle but that post isn't written yet. As a live update, I am in Chaing Mai and will be leaving tomorrow for Koh Tao to start my diving course. Really excited about that and, in a way, it will be the end of my trip as I will be stopping for 6 months or so. Mixed feelings about that one and when I get there I will probably stop blogging so only 2 or 3 more posts left. Sorry about no pictures again....ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-29630082367726335182009-05-12T05:05:00.000+01:002009-05-12T05:39:39.643+01:00It's been emotional. Koh Tao and the English invasion.Pretty hard to sum up the last few weeks. As you know I met Harriet and Emma here in Bangkok at the beginning of this month. Well it didn't all go entirely to plan. It was good to see both of them again but it didn't work out between me and Harriet.<br /><br />In all honesty I am not as cut up by it not working as I thought I would be. To be fair I didn't really expect it not to work out but thinking about it now I would expect to be hurting more than I am. Gotta be careful what I write here though, got two peoples feelings to consider.<br /><br />I'm really glad I met Harriet back in Europe firstly she is a great person and friend but the reason I am glad is that by meeting her and falling for her back then it meant that during the months since I have not had to think about relationships. It was like a part of my life (a particularly difficult part) was all sorted so I could just ride and worry about the trip and not about women. (or maybe I am making excuses)<br /><br />Apparently Harriet knew after the first day she got here that she didn't feel the same anymore. I thought that was a bit harsh but in a way it is true. It just wasn't the same between us and that was obvious straight away. Anyway, chase and how do I cut to it? I think that we are both ok with how it turned out in the end.<br /><br />There are parts of this story I can't tell so I won't. I wish things had turned out differently and I wish I had acted better when they didn't. Truth be told I have got myself a bit lost now and need to find the way back or a new way forward. The question on my mind is: Do I carry on? Do I go home? Or do I do something else altogether?<br /><br />I'll answer that one another day I think.<br /><br />So back to the trip. Well lets see, after meeting Harriet and Emma in Bangkok they headed south on bus to Koh Tao and I followed on the bike. I (foolishly) left all my luggage in Bangkok and hit the road for a 500km trip south before getting a boat to the island. It took me two very long hours to get out of Bangkok. It has the most difficult road system so far. The traffic moves just fine and there is no real congestion to speak of but navigation is impossible. If you miss your turning you have to ride 2km, do a U turn, ride 4km (yes you have to pass the turning again) and do another U turn then ride 2km and get off. Signposts are completely random. There will be one signpost for, say, Hua Hin and then nothing but you know you have gone too far. Thai people are none too friendly either. They don't even bother trying to help. Eventually I made it out of BKK onto route 4 to southern Thailand. The road isn't much to write home about. It is 500km dual carriageway with perfect tarmac. It is boring. Traffic moves a lot faster here too but at least people do use their mirrors properly.<br /><br />I got to Champhon at about 8pm and found the hotel where I was planning to leave my bike for 10 days but they didn't have secure parking. I eventually found a decent place that was going to charge me 30 Baht a day for the bike. I left it there and checked into the hotel for the night. In the morning, and not really used to other peoples schedules, I almost missed the boat.<br /><br />The island is kind of a combination of paradise and Vegas. The main strip on the main beach is full of flashing lights, strip clubs and bars. It would be brilliant for a two week holiday but it wasn't what I (and luckily the girls) were looking for. We found a quieter beach and a decent looking dive school where we agreed a price with a guy called Jess (from Big Bubble) so we got our Open Water diving and accomodation for 9000 Baht. Harriet decided not to dive so the next few days Emma and me would leave early in the morning and g oto class (yes it was like school) watch a video or answer some questions and then we would go diving. In our group was Jess, the instructor, Ben, the trainee instructor, and three Canadian guys. We did 2 or 3 dives a day for three days.<br /><br />Wish I could describe this one too you but words don't do it. You'll just have to dive for yourselves because it is brilliant. It is, without over exaggerating, entering another world.<br /><br />After each day we would find Harriet and go for something to eat and maybe a drink or two. Maybe an hour on the beach or maybe just a bit of reading. It was all pretty relaxed and I think Harriet found it difficult doing nothing after being busy back home in England.<br /><br />We graduated on the third day of our course as open water divers and in the evening we all met up for a couple of drinks before going to the castle party. The party would prove to be my final downfall. We sneaked in a half litre of rum which I promptly stole from the girls, drank by myself and the rest is a blur with some pretty cringeworthy backflashes.<br /><br />Errr, I did say some nasty things, I did walk out of the party early and I did go skinny dipping at about 1am and then fell asleep in someones boat. When the girls came back and saw my clothes on the beach they figured the worst and started calling my name which woke me up. The final result being that I had to swim back and then walk past the girls and up the beach naked to the room.<br /><br />(another realisation me+rum = bad) Wasn't too hungover the next day but I had a lot of apologies to make and no-one was kind enough to let the naked part go either.<br /><br />We were supposed to go to the full moon party together but I figured after showing off my full moon it wasn't going to be a good idea to go to the biggest party of the year for a repeat performance. I was lucky to bump into Juliet and James in Bangkok and they were on the island too so instead of going to the party I stayed in Koh Tao and spent a week doing more diving, playing chess, watching movies and going to the bar. All in it was a good week, ended the chess on 11 wins each and checked off two of the movies “not to watch before you die” It was good to spend time with the J's. A really good couple who, together, equal more than the sum of their two parts. Hopefully I will see them again, it is a small world after all. Safe travelling guys and good luck in NZ.<br /><br /><br /><br />I've had more time to think now, seeing as this happened ages ago. For starters I am finding it hard to write since the island. Don't ask me why I just am. I kinda figure posting this might get around the writers block. As far as being “lost” goes let me try to explain. Being on the road by myself has some great pluses and minuses. The big minus being that I am on my own. Seeing Harriet and Emma made me realise all the things I left back home. Good friends and fun nights down the pub. A loving family who are there for me when things are down. When the shit hit the fan I was desperate to look into the eyes of someone who I love and who loves me and know that everything is going to be ok. I didn't realise how important that was until I “willingly” left it behind. The real pain is knowing that each day I am on the road I become more separated from the people I love. The effect is that I feel homeless. I am experiencing a million cultures but I no longer have one of my own.<br /><br />Someone once said all great journeys get lost along the way. I wish he had said it to me before I left so I could at least be prepared for it.<br /><br />Hope you enjoyed the read and, now I am back on the road, the next post will be purely travel related I promise. I've been through Cambodia and Laos since and have plenty to write about now. So stay safe and (if you don't mind me passing on a little wisdom) let the people you love know it.<br /><br />Olohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-76128555598538071942009-04-10T06:31:00.002+01:002009-04-10T06:51:20.323+01:0025000km to here. 160M to there! Bungeeeeeeeeeeeeee!It's 6:30 in the morning, another cloudy day in Kathmandu, 2 people have just been woken by their alarm and another is pressing the snooze button for the third time. Finally all 3 are awake and moving. Fully dressed they check that everything is ready and head down to the bikes. The seats glisten with the remains of the night but they are ready to go.<br /><br />Philip jumps on the back of my bike with a map and acts as navigator. Before long we are flying through the empty city heading out to the open road. It takes only 30 minutes to get from the center of the city into the mountains. After that the road twists its way over 100km to the Last Resort. I'm riding slow today, the roads are cold and my pillion doesn't have a helmet. The road is sweet, a lovely mixture of tight hairpins and sweeping corners with a line of sight to the other side of the world. I'm riding slow but for Philip it is pure adrenaline. We stop for something to eat and a quick calculation makes me realise we wont make the 10am deadline at this rate. So now I go at my natural speed and everything clicks in. Philip is making some pretty strange noises behind me, a mixture of whimpers and whoops.<br /><br />With only minutes to spare we round a corner and someone throws himself off a bridge, I watch from the corner of my eye as he flaps his arms about in panic. A shudder runs down my spine. Bikes parked and a nervous piss later we are looking out across the bridge chattering nervously about how we are going to jump or what we will say to the camera before the jump.<br /><br />So it's our turn to cross the bridge for the briefing on the other side. A bridge is a very different thing when you are considering jumping off it. Think about it. A bridge is designed to bring you safely from one side to another but I was about to walk halfway out and throw myself off! That is in no way natural! 160M is also different when you are about to jump it. 160M is exactly 0.1 mile. I have so far traveled 16000 miles. You see my point?<br /><br />The briefing went as expected. If the bridge breaks it is my fault, if my legs get ripped off it is my fault, if world war thr.... But most of all have fun! Philip and me are put into the second group. We get the pleasure of watching about 30 people jump before us. Watching people jump from a bridge becomes boring after a while but listening to the screams... many were screams of joy but the odd one was of pure terror. A scream that makes your heart stop as it echoes around the canyon and birds take off from trees. A few lads screamed like girls and a few girls (actually most of them) seemed to enjoy it the most.<br /><br />So now I am on the bridge, I have 10 people in front of me and the real waiting begins. I watch a couple jump, I listen to some and then the jump master yells “75” I look at the back of my hand and there it is in bright red permanent marker. 75Kg and I duck under the barrier and put on a harness. The cameraman shoves the camera into my face and asks me questions. I stutter answers that make little sense and wait as the bungee rope is pulled back up. The view is nice....<br /><br />The jump master clips the rope to my legs and then... Well what then. Was I scared? I had been up until that point but now there was a feeling of inevitability. I stand up and everything is checked and then I am led to another barrier. I have to duck under it and then I am standing on a meter squared platform with 3 open sides. The cameraman is there on my left and the jump master is holding my harness as I wiggle my way to the lip. I'm still not scared. In fact I feel free like I am already falling. As the jump master starts to count down 3.. I turn to the camera. 2.. I smile. 1... I feel the wind rushing over my face but don't hear it. Eternity passes as my view changes from the mountains surrounding me to the river rushing up to me. I start to scream. Maybe 1 second has passed. I scream with joy and fear. Yeah now I am scared. That rock in the river, the one I seem to be flying directly towards, looks pretty damn sharp and I can't feel the rope. It should be pulling me back up by now. In fact, if it had pulled me back up earlier I would have been happy. Then it whips around and everything is thrown on its head.<br /><br />The river and the rocks it runs over merge with the vertical canyon walls. Streaks of blue from the sky start to appear. Up is down and down is left. Spinning in all directions and completely lost there is nothing to anchor your brain too. Finally the spinning and bouncing slows and my screams start to quiet down. I am left hanging 50 meters above the river still swaying back and forth. My heart is racing and I feel alive. Drag me back up and throw me off again! Don't stop until the sun sets.<br /><br />Later, when I finally get lowered back down to mother earth the nervous chatter from before is replaced with excited chatter. Everyone says the same things. How, once they stepped onto the platform, they knew they were going to jump. The moment in the air when you realise there is no going back. Abandoning yourself just to enjoy the moment and finally the exhilaration of knowing you have done something that terrifies you.<br /><br />Ok, not everyone. Remember I told you about the screams of terror? Well those guys didn't abandon themselves. They held on far too tightly and they saw death. As the ground rushed up to them they forgot about the rope and thought only about the rocks. They screamed from the moment they realised they couldn't turn back and they screamed all the way to the bottom, halfway back up and down again. That jump probably changed them in ways I can't imagine. What's it like to see your own death? I've come close but that's just extreme!<br /><br />If you get the chance to do a bungee do it! One way or the other it will be a hell of an experience and no-one gets hurt doing it. Every time I watch the video or even think about the feelings I had on the edge a little shudder runs down my spine and a smile cracks across my face. Worth every penny!<br /><br />Thanks to Phillip as well who was extremely generous and bought the video for me after I decided it was too expensive. Really glad you got it for me even if the whole world now knows I scream like a girl.<br /><br />sorry, one last pearl of wisdom. There are 3 types of noises you can't blame people for making. Sex noises, Pain noises and Fear noises. You can laugh at them sure but you can't blame them!ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-4426216372077154712009-03-29T04:51:00.000+01:002009-03-29T04:53:02.453+01:00So Long Nepal <meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <title></title> <meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.4 (Linux)"> <style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Last night in Pokhara, Leaving more people behind now and so it should be a sad night but it isn't. It's more a celebration of my stay (or at least that is how it felt for me, the others probably felt that everything could return to normal again) The night starts as normal with a beer and chatting at the bar. Keep an eye on Mandeep, if a beautiful woman walks the speed at which he trails off from conversation is a good indicator of how attractive she is. The usual suspects are all their, Moniek is talking to a guy I don't recognise. Rick is at the bar with Trev halfway through another bottle of Gorkha. Lucy and Quentin are losing at pool and the locals are crowding around the stage enjoying the music. Just another night at the Busy Bee.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Bimal comes over to my table and tells me they are playing over in Paradiso tonight and I should come and maybe play one time. I'm drunk at this point. Not fallover drunk but drunk enough. I've just put back a Flaming Sambuca and I am pretty sure another one is on the way. It is not the right time to be playing the drums but I agree. People start calling it a night in the BB and head over to All That Jazz but I hold back and then after one more drink head over to Paradiso. We walk in and it is pretty empty. I order beers all round and then Bimal calls me upto the stage. I stumble on the way but once sat down the room stops spinning and the drum kit comes back into focus. Needless to say it wasn't my best performance but everyone was drunk so it was well received and I enjoyed it more than previously.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">After that we finished the drinks and headed out, I think I was supposed to pay but didn't. It's ok though, I'll be back in a few years to settle the bill! The rest is a bit of a haze to be honest. I remember not being able to find “All That Jazz” and getting involved in some kind of fight. A police van pulled up and out came 10 officers who surrounded us. A motorbike screams up alongside me and yells at me to jump on. In seconds we are blasting down lakeside at 70kmh (hey come on, it was only 175cc) towards my hotel. The biker drops me off right outside and I realise I didn't tell him where to go. I ask him how he knew and he points at my bike, smiles and rides off.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So whoever you were, thanks for the ride!</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Philip got back about 10 minutes later, didn't know anything more about the fight than I did. After ATJ they went back to BB for a drink but apparently it was quiet all over town and so called it early too. Philip had a 6am start the next day so we watched an episode of Family Guy and I went back to my hotel room for one last night in the closest thing I have had to a home in 9 months. It's a good feeling leaving it (huh what?) I love it here but when it is time to move it is defiantly time to move. I'd been getting that feeling, the itchy feet feeling, for a few days and so when I woke up in the morning and the sun was shining I knew it was a good day to ride.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I hit my usual points of call on the way out, the last morning routine, Down to the Asian T House where I meet Shiva (the best omlette chef in town) and had one last breakfast. I check the guest book and look up Gubi's comment. The date? 18-2-09 exactly one month ago. I remember the morning he left and think of the similarities. The gap we left is still there and so I write my own. Just as I am about to leave Shiva tells me he has a gift for me, I kinda figured what it was (think back, if you can, to Pakistan and the “gift” from the police officers.) but he gets out this big package wrapped in newspaper. It's a Kuhkuri blade complete with sheath. I take it out and look at the blade. It isn't the sharpest and the decoration isn't the most intricate or beautiful. The surface of the knife is slightly rusted and the wooden sheath is discoloured. I'm lost for words. As I run my fingers over the cutting edge I try to think of a way to say thank you but nothing comes apart from a handshake and those two words.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Back on the bike and over to see Raju. Blessings of all blessings, Andy isn't their and neither is Peter. Raju doesn't speak much English which makes saying bye a lot easier. We shake hands, wish each other luck and get a few quick photos before me and Graham set off. I make a promise as I ride off. A promise I have made to people here already but one I need to confirm to myself. I'll be back, dunno when but I know it is true. I have made good friends here and I want to know that their lives turned out well. </p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Four hours and 200km later we arrive in Kathmandu. Horns and traffic, cows and crazies. It's India.. almost. The traffic isn't so bad and they only use the horns once every 3 seconds. Philips caught up with us and you can get wifi pretty much anywhere. The hotel room is a hotel room. Identical in every way to the other 100 hotel rooms I have stayed in and yet so completely different to the one I have just left. It is to be the base of operations for the next 7 days.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I have a bridge to jump off and Tibetan soil to touch. My motorbike needs to be reduced to its component parts, fitted into the smallest crate possible and then loaded onto a plane. I have to get a haircut, a new wallet and a couple of new shirts as mine are literally falling apart. One week till Thailand! Excited? Oh hell yeah! It's good to be moving again!</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So long Nepal and thanks for all the fish!</p> ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-57577874976666551832009-03-25T20:03:00.004+00:002009-03-25T20:16:53.568+00:00Happy HoliThe peaceful town of Pokhara has become a warzone. Bright red smears highlight the pavements and walls, war crys echo down the streets. Victims are everywhere stumbling into restaurants looking for escape but there is none. Dazed and confused another projectile flies through the window and strikes an innocent in the face. The explosion splatters everyone close and red, gushing from his face, runs down his shirt. He stumbles backwards previously untouched by the madness he is now just another victim of Holi.<br /><br />It started at about midday, nothing too bad. A few skirmishes here and there but generally nothing major. I'd been on the streets already and had to be careful, dodging out of the way when a mob came through. Most westerners were being left alone at this point. Ever the journalist I had gone back to my hotel to get my camera.<br /><br />Happy Holi.<br /><br />I returned to the madness and on leaving the hotel was confronted by a mob. They charged screaming their war cry. “Happy Holi, Happy Holi” their war paints of reds and greens glisten in the sun and I am soon part of the madness. As I duck to protect myself I feel hands pawing at my face. The whirlwind passes and I am left slightly dazed but grinning from ear to ear. It is Holi, the welcoming of Spring for Hindi's and a festival of colour. As I walk down the street I see other westerners walking along in the same state as me. As we get close we laugh at each other. Reds, blues, pinks, greens. All the brightest colours of the rainbow cover our faces. The spirit of the festival has overtaken us. You can't help but enjoy it and I soon have a 1 litre bottle filled with purple water and adding my own splash of colour.<br /><br />A child of 10 makes a sneak attack from behind, green water splashes over my shoulder and I turn and chase. With revenge sorted and balance restored to the world I carry on my way down lakeside. The street is pockmarked with colour and I soon find myself within another group. They are singing and dancing and each comes upto me to add to the mess on my face and I add to theirs. A bit of red powder this time, smearing it down their chin or on their forehead. It's still pretty calm and all really friendly. The young kids are out and having water fights. It's the best time of their lives. Some hide on the rooftops letting down streams of water bombs and others in the street attack with water pistols made from whatever they can find. We eventually stop at a bar. It is packed out with tourists seaking shelter but we stay on the street. Too covered now to make a difference we greet everyone who passes and exchange colour. We are changing colours like chameleons blending into one another. With each wave of people that passes we are unrecognisable and taking photos of each other to show us what we look like. Laughing and smiling in some kind of colour induced ecstasy conversation flows easily and a bar of complete strangers are now close friends.<br /><br />I honestly can't find the right words to describe this so I am going to fall back on the photos:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn45/motorcycleodyssey/Nepal/p3100572.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 1024px; height: 768px;" src="http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn45/motorcycleodyssey/Nepal/p3100572.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn45/motorcycleodyssey/Nepal/p3100619.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 1024px; height: 768px;" src="http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn45/motorcycleodyssey/Nepal/p3100619.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn45/motorcycleodyssey/Nepal/p3100610.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 1024px; height: 768px;" src="http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn45/motorcycleodyssey/Nepal/p3100610.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn45/motorcycleodyssey/Nepal/p3100621.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 1024px; height: 768px;" src="http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn45/motorcycleodyssey/Nepal/p3100621.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn45/motorcycleodyssey/Nepal/p3100583.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 1024px; height: 768px;" src="http://i301.photobucket.com/albums/nn45/motorcycleodyssey/Nepal/p3100583.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Ok before I write about the rest of the day there is something that amazed me about this day. I said earlier that I walked down the street and was left alone. What amazes me is not only the way people throw themselves into this festival but the way they restrain themselves as well. Even the photos don't really show it and I have put a video on facebook but there are probably millions of videos now. It is total ecstasy in these crowds. They are dancing and singing. Jumping around like lunatics. The looks on the faces of people are that of men gripped in drug induced happiness smiling and laughing so much it has to be unhealthy. They literally charge at people and cover them in colour from head to toe. As one of these groups approach several things happen to you. Firstly there is a bit of fear. Then they reach you it is madness with hands all over you and strangers within milimeters of your face. The madness is catching and I caught it very quickly. They soon pass and the result is devestating. The madness left my body and it left a gap when it went. I felt both extremely happy and empty at the same time. It was like withdrawal symptoms, fortunatly my next hit was always just around the corner. But back to what amazed me, within this crazy indescribable mass of people there was complete control. If I didn't have colour on me I would not be approached. There were thousands of people dripping in colour and then a few people who were completely untouched by any of it. Some people with cameras were getting right inside the mob to get photos and they would walk out clean like they had a protective bubble around them.<br /><br />All I can say is that they had the mob mentality. They opened their hearts up to being part of a single mind but they retained enough control in all of it to keep their own mind too. I have no doubt that if one person in the mob put colour on someone who didn't want it then everyone else would do the same but no-one did. Unfortunately, as the sun was setting, I saw some drunk bikers riding around specifically looking for people who were clean and then targeting them. Another reminder that no-where is perfect.<br /><br />So for me and the rest of the day. Well the group that had formed at the bar moved around a little and got a bit bigger, eventually there were 11 of us so we decided to go for a group wash in Fewa lake. Hired a boat, paddled out into the middle stripped off and dived in. Someone even bought shampoo so we could get the worst of it off. It was good to get into the cool water after running around for half the day and after a bit of splashing around and the odd backflip we cracked open the beers and watched the sun set behind the mountains. After letting the girls try to peddle the boat back in and basically spinning it in circles I took over for the ride back. It was slow going and we had drifted away from the dock but we got there eventually and with only one broken bottle. We docked and after a small incident involving a dog and a drunk Jordie we were back on dry land. We split up and agreed to meet up at the Busy Bee later.<br /><br />The rest, as they say, is history. A night of too much alcohol which is a story played out all over the world a million times a night and, I suspect, you don't need to read about it.ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-69620994991071213132009-03-11T04:23:00.004+00:002009-03-11T04:34:49.820+00:00The right beat <meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <title></title> <meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.4 (Linux)"> <style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Heart rate 120bpm. It just happens to be the same rate as the song that is playing at the moment. A nervous vibration runs through my leg, up my spine and into my fingers. I look around. No-one else feels it, they are deep in conversation and completely unaware of the incredible things happening around them. As the song finishes a line of sweat runs down my back and my hands clench uncontrollably in anticipation. The singer takes a swig of water and reaches up to the mic. “We'd like to ask Oliver up to the stage”
<br />
<br />
<br />My heart rate doubles, I look around expecting to see people looking at me. They aren't. Still in conversation they don't understand what is happening. I get up. The walk to the stage goes from 10 meters to a hundred and each step rings out the toll to my own death sentence. Every sense says no but I am walking now and it is too late. I reach the stage and climb up. I've been up before, it is one large step that requires a bit of a hop. It feels like Everest
<br />
<br />
<br />The singer clears his throat, “we dedicate this song to Oliver, our drummer” and the guitarist starts. 1.. 2.. 3.. 4, 1.. 2.. 3.. 4, 1.. 2.. 3.. 4, 1.. I got it, I started on the right beat, amazing... shit, where are we... 4.., and then everyone is in! Lead, second and base guitar and we are all in time. The song changes as the singer starts “Look at the stars..” 3.. 4.. and then it is over. 4 minutes and 29 seconds gone and I remember nothing. I am sure that we missed a verse it was over that quickly. I leave the stage, grab a beer and sit down at the same table I was at before. After 5 minutes talk returns to motorbikes and girls. Nothings happened.</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />Later Bimal comes over to talk to me and I ask about the missed verse. He looks at me a bit strange and tells me I didn't miss a beat. He tells me how nervous he was and that he was repeating to himself “don't mess up, don't mess up” I didn't imagine the look of relief on his face. He is proud but not just of me, he is proud of himself. Tomorrow the sun will rise as normal, at 2pm I will have my drum lesson as normal and, If I am lucky, the band will let me play again.</p> ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-5744769778662624932009-03-03T06:29:00.002+00:002009-03-03T06:33:32.681+00:00“Get one of the browns to do it”A few posts back when I first wrote about Nepal I said something about being “home”. People close to me, probably only family actually, will know that that is a very dangerous thing to commit to. Maybe they don't fully understand either but to write it and post it was hard for me because of parts of my life which may be one of the reasons I got on a bike and started riding. There is no need to worry, however, because the great repercussions of that one word, the vibrations that pass through time much like the vibrations of a musical instrument, have been cut short. Nepal is not home and it never could be. At the time of my first writing I couldn't know this of course so now I will try to explain. <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I still love Nepal. The people still smile as sweetly, the beer tastes just as good, the women are just as beautiful and the view is still incredible so what has changed? Well for starters I met the ex-pat community. It is a strange collection of people mostly from Britain who hang around only with other westerns. Ages range from about 25 to 60 mostly male but some women too. Mostly single and all angry about something.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Peter (names have not been changed to protect the innocent as there are no innocents)</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Peter is large friendly seeming guy from Switzerland who has married a local lady. They seem happy together so no problems there. The problem is that Peter is a biker, like myself, who visits the same motorcycle mechanic I do. The mechanic, Raju, is someone I have immeasurable respect for. I cant explain this but when you take your bike to Raju you buy him tea. He doesn't demand it or even ask but you just do because it is right. Peter spends at least an hour almost every day at Raju's but I have never seen him buy a cup of tea, drinks plenty but never buys. He always has a job of course that needs completing and Raju (for some reason I can't quite phantom) will always go up and do the job no matter what else he is doing. I have never seen Peter pay for this work but I have been told that Raju keeps a running total and gives him the bill each month at which point Peter refuses to pay it, calls Raju a con man, eventually pays half and walks out angry. To make it worse when someone comes to Raju (a random person) for repairs Peter will actively tell that there is a mechanic somewhere else who will do it for less or he will tell the person how to fix it themselves.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Daniel (also Swiss come to think of it) was in the BB with me last night having a beer. He paid his bill and took his change (50Rs or about .5 Euro) and held it over a candle burning it. Owen, an Irish guy I met a few weeks back, and me tried to stop him but he did it anyway right in front of the waiter. (Try to recall my story about Bimal the drummer) 50Rs is about half a days wages for the waiter and I looked into his face as this money burnt. He struggled to stop himself grabbing the money and then walked off without saying a word but his face said it all. I tried explaining to Daniel the situation. That people work all day everyday here just to feed their family. That 50Rs covers the cost of rice and dal for a family of 10 for a day and what he was doing was the equivalent of burning 30 Euros. His answer was that he gave the money back to the universe. Owen and me got up and walked away.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">There's a Welsh lady who moved here and setup business. All she does is bitch about the locals and how they try to sabotage her because she is white. When she orders a beer she clicks her fingers and doesn't look at the barman. Didn't have one nice word to say about any locals and specifically hangs out in western only areas.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Any number of people who have nothing to do all day but have opinions on how the country should be run and what is wrong with it but they have the perfect solution if only people would listen. They complain about the politics and the police. They are upset about the intermittent electricity supply and know what must be done to fix it. Hell even the weather could do with tuning up a couple of notches.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Back to the bike again now. I was adjusting the rear shock and needed the rear wheel lifted off the ground and the bike rested on blocks. There's a guy there who is mouthing off a lot and using me and my bike as a topic of conversation for no-one in particular. I had been working for going on 2 hours and he had been there the whole time. Raju had rightly walked off for a bit of peace and so I asked this guy to help lift the bike “Get one of the browns to do it”</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I struggled and did it myself. When Raju came back he looked over my work and nodded his approval. He appreciates motorbikes the same way an artist appreciates fine art and so while everything is off the bike and he can get a good look at the engine he looks at everything. Gently twists the throttle and watches the carbs. A squeeze of the clutch just to get the feel. Nothing goes untouched and as I watch him for 15 minutes nodding and shaking his head I find myself strangely desperate for his approval of my bike. He finally gets up and with a smile on his face gives me a little nod and walks off. Later I ask him if he wants to ride it. “No friend but thank you” the other guy, the “get one of the browns to do it” guy, is on his feet before I have even finished asking Raju if he wants to ride it and is practically shouting that he will have a go. </p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">They all hang in western only areas, have no Nepali friends and treat the locals like crap that should only be talked to when something needs doing. I asked one why he lives here “Oh I just love it here”. The place stinks of British Imperialism.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So what to do about it huh? Well for starters I have to avoid these people for the next 3 weeks. I have decided that whenever I meet someone I don't like I will just walk away and not get upset with them. I wont judge any more or I will try not to. I have my own flaws, plenty of them. Yeah that's it. I wont let people ruin this little slice of paradise for me and when I leave I will hold it as a memory. I wont make it something it is not in my mind but when I think back I will always smile at the place that was almost perfect.</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:78%;">I dedicate this post to Raju as it is the only honour I can truly give him. A man who knows who he is and doesn't try to be anything else, a great judge of character who can make you feel like everything or nothing just by looking at you. You will never know the effect you had on me. By accepting me, you gave me more honour than I deserve.<br />Stay safe and ride well friend.</span></p>ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-73483416979563777512009-02-16T13:39:00.011+00:002009-02-17T06:44:36.324+00:00100km horizontal, 4km vertical! Beni to MuktinathWow ok, so the full post is available over at: <a href="http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/hubb/ride-tales/100km-horizontal-4km-vertical-beni-40909#post229116">Horizons Unlimited</a><br /><br />Here is just some pictures and totally in the wrong order, I will sort them tomorrow but have been over an hour on the internet today and that is too much!<br /><br />but one quick piece of advice for y'all: Drum practice with sticks on the legs is not the same as practicing with your hands! One hurts much more than the other. Equally, drumming with sticks on your legs while only wearing boxers is on the same level as looking down the barrel of a gun after it missfired! I can see the headline: <span style="font-style: italic;">"Drummer turns himself into a eunuch in a One and Two and Three and FouuuARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH"</span><br /><br /><br />(ps, click the images for the full sized versions)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpaL8RYGhI/AAAAAAAAAQI/sapLpWlL_6c/s1600-h/Go+to+Mukinath+114.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 191px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpaL8RYGhI/AAAAAAAAAQI/sapLpWlL_6c/s320/Go+to+Mukinath+114.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303650672386251282" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpXtIYOgjI/AAAAAAAAAQA/rywehOn4IF4/s1600-h/p5190457.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpXtIYOgjI/AAAAAAAAAQA/rywehOn4IF4/s320/p5190457.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303647944037007922" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpXsZQw06I/AAAAAAAAAP4/oI10vK3B0-Y/s1600-h/p5200480.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpXsZQw06I/AAAAAAAAAP4/oI10vK3B0-Y/s320/p5200480.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303647931389236130" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpXqD-G6TI/AAAAAAAAAPw/KYVLSXkKz3g/s1600-h/p5200488.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpXqD-G6TI/AAAAAAAAAPw/KYVLSXkKz3g/s320/p5200488.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303647891314108722" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpXpv0R8nI/AAAAAAAAAPo/9Y3Dtp0hX6w/s1600-h/p5200492.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpXpv0R8nI/AAAAAAAAAPo/9Y3Dtp0hX6w/s320/p5200492.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303647885904179826" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpWjUuzhbI/AAAAAAAAAPg/Ynn9iXIunyU/s1600-h/p5190452.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpWjUuzhbI/AAAAAAAAAPg/Ynn9iXIunyU/s320/p5190452.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303646676042614194" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpWjKCLBYI/AAAAAAAAAPY/AJO_9xgb-GM/s1600-h/p5190446.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpWjKCLBYI/AAAAAAAAAPY/AJO_9xgb-GM/s320/p5190446.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303646673171056002" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpWijs8pJI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/dDtz9GLuBrE/s1600-h/p5190440.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpWijs8pJI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/dDtz9GLuBrE/s320/p5190440.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303646662881485970" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZpWiV6CyLI/AAAAAAAAAPI/0_JPs9oKCAc/s1600-h/p5190435.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; 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float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZlxT0V1hhI/AAAAAAAAAKw/TsMmaH1XA24/s320/Go+to+Mukinath+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303394621487154706" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZlxTTNttpI/AAAAAAAAAKo/V4rPLpS7wQc/s1600-h/Go+to+Mukinath+002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2q6d4RdK2Sw/SZlxTTNttpI/AAAAAAAAAKo/V4rPLpS7wQc/s320/Go+to+Mukinath+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303394612594718354" border="0" /></a>ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2428858967218487451.post-91242111092466357692009-02-11T05:25:00.003+00:002009-02-11T05:41:10.036+00:00Nepal: Where the money equation doesn't work.Time to ponder on another of the great injustices of the world and it essentially comes down to the equation of time = money. I have realised recently that the equation has no bearing outside of the western world where I am pretty certain that you substitute leisure time for money (or working time) in the constant struggle of earning enough money to be able to have more leisure time. Outside of the commercially developed countries this isn't true. In fact, when faced with a country which has an unemployment level of almost 50%, time and money are completely unrelated which has caused something very unusual in Nepal.<br /><br />To compare India and Nepal is an easy thing to do. In India unemployment and the lack of of any prospect of work has left many working age people stupid. Unwilling to learn or do anything. If I said this in England it would be considered racist but it is undeniable fact that many, but by no means all, Indians living in poverty care for nothing. They await the next day with the same boredom that they lived the current. It is disheartening to experience and it also explains the gormless expressions, the constant same questions (Name, Age, location, how many CC, how many litres, how many Kilometres per litre... etc etc etc) that get repeated by nearly every Indian I met. This feeling runs through the traveller community and is the only reason I am willing to express it. Basically they await the passing of time with “knowledge” that they have no control and that drives me mad, it is as near to soullessness I have ever experienced.<br /><br />Nepal is the polar opposite. I see people with absolutely nothing to do all day and with no reason to do anything as their future is as bleak as any Indians yet they do things. They become great musicians and they study even knowing the study is probably pointless. I know a guitarist here, Bishnu, who is considered Nepals greatest guitarist. He works in a local bar for 300Rs a day (less than $4) and he teaches for a small bonus yet when he decided to try and make a career from this he had to buy his own guitar. A western one because the Chinese and Indian copies are shite. He has to pay the price of the guitar we pay + crazy import taxes, it could never be bought outright so he will spend years paying for it. For maybe 3 hours a day, 6 days a week he plays at the local bar earning his keep and he probably practises every day for at least an hour or two. Bishnu is an excellent musician who you can't help but love to watch play. Every note he plays registers on his face and in his body movements, he loves every second of it.<br /><br />Next is the drummer, Bimal. He earns the same per day but every session, or two if he is lucky, he breaks a pair of drum sticks. A “new” pair of Indian drumsticks costs 150Rs ($2) or a good western brand costs 600Rs ($8) but last longer. A huge chunk of his wages goes on new sticks and then he has to buy a drum kit too because he isn't allowed to practise at the bar. 25,000Rs for a drumkit which he bought almost 2 years ago and has paid off about 10k. (over $300 and $100 respectively) Besides learning a trade everyone studies up to at least the equivalent of high school. Bimal is studying commerce between practising his art and earning a living. Then to top it off he is giving large amounts of his earnings to his family who lives in a small, 2 room building which also has to house the drum kit. I can't imagine the sacrifice Bimal's family had to make to get this drum kit but they must have weighed it up and figured that the huge wage their son is bringing in (and, in Nepal, it is huge) will eventually be worth sacrificing a bit of food each day.<br /><br />I've asked if Bimal could teach me the drums, two reasons really. Firstly, like I said in my previous post, watching them play made me want to be a part of it and I regret not putting in the effort when I first failed to learn. Secondly it gives the chance to really find out about a community, and to make friendships within it, which is something I haven't really allowed myself to do on this trip. Bimal is a great teacher and I already feel, after just 5 lessons, that I will be able to play at least one live session with the band before my 2 months in Nepal are up. I will keep you updated on the band and my progress, maybe even some videos/pictures.<br /><br />Off for a ride upto Muktinath. As far as local knowledge goes we will be the 2nd and 3rd westerners to go on motorbikes. No petrol stations the whole way......ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521100383053631510noreply@blogger.com1