Ok, I am being harassed for not updating the blog as often as I should, and the reasons are as follows -
There are two main reasons for my lack of literary contact. 1- I actually like being out of contact and people not knowing where I am in the world. It gives me a sense of freedom; and 2- I always feel that when I am doing an update, I should be able to write about things that are exciting and memorable. And here lies an issue; I’m feeling a tad fatigued from my travels, yes I know that you all think I’m on an extra long holiday, but that’s just it. When you have two weeks away, o even a month, everything seems exciting, when that becomes two and a half years, well it becomes another set of fantastic mountains, some more world famous ruins, more beautiful sky. Yes I’m afraid I do feel travel fatigued, what was once exciting has become the norm, this feels awful to say and perhaps rather condescending, but its not meant to be, its just like anything we do in life; if we have it every day, it loses the feeling of of rarity, regardless of how good it is. As an example,I have always loved smoked salmon, perhaps my favourite food, but back when I worked for a living, I could have it every day, but instead would save it for Sunday breakfast. Well ,at the moment, I’m eating travel-smoked salmon every day, so forgive me if I sound at times, rather blasé. And by the way I would kill for some good smoked salmon, the food here is, shall we just say, ordinary! And 3- I have been somewhat distracted by events back in the UK, as I have some business issues that are proving a pain in the arse. People always think they can take the piss when you are not in the country. However , they are deeply mistaken.
The Worlds Most Dangerous Road.
I renamed this, “The Worlds Prettiest Road”, because it is indeed beautiful. The fact that its only 3 metres wide and has a drop off of around 1300 metres, well that make for its beauty, of course, a few years ago, this road used to see a lot of traffic, now there is a by-pass, so all that you encounter are a bunch of tossers riding down the hill on mountain bike, just so they can get a t-shirt saying “I survived the Worlds………………..”.
But the ride was stupendous, tight switch backs, one after the other and at time water pouring in sheets off the mountain, in what seems like rain, but in fact your are riding through a waterfall. You descend from 4600 meters to around 1500, over the course of 60kms and the landscape changed rapidly from barren snow topped hills, to lush sub tropical jungle, complete with parakeets and humming birds, so needless to say there is quite a temperature change along the way. A nice stop over for lunch then we rode back up again, which in fact was better as you always feel in more control going uphill on a bike than you do descending, also the weather improved so you were able to get a better view of the drop, that you did not want to take.
I spent a few days in La Paz, getting a few things sorted out that need to be done and to catch up with a few friends that I have met along the way. Big cities like this are always the best meeting point.
Lago Titicaca
The largest lake in South America and set at an altitude of 3800 metres, Lake Titicaca is quite a sight, with its crystal cleat waters and topped by some of the clearest blue skies you will ever see, in part due to its altitude, but also the lack of industry, meaning there is hardly any pollution in the air. I met up with the Christian, a French biker that I rode down the WMDR with, at the town of Copacabana, where he had booked us in to our own suit, complete with kitchen and garden, where I parked my bike amongst the 10 sheep that where happily grazing.
The next day we took a walk around the small town, to see what there was to do. While we were walking down the beach, we noticed a gathering of people and a stage being built. At first I thought it was for perhaps a concert for the evening, but then I saw the big satellite dishes that had been installed and came to thinking that this was something more important. All the locals were dressed in their finery, meaning brightly coloured woollens with a few bowler hats and feathers and there were some rituals to Patcha Mama going on. So we just sat back enjoying the sceptical to unravel. After around an hour, a large military helicopter flew overhead and a few minutes later, Presidenta Evo Morales turns up with his entourage, to be almost drowned in a sea of flower petals being showered on him by his admires. Now his quite an unusual man, given that he is an ex coca farmer and he is South Americas first indigenous president. However he is prone to very long and tedious speeches, as are most South American leader, so after the rose petals had drifted slowly to the ground, we made haste for a spot of lunch of fresh trout.
What surprised me most about Lake Titicaca, is how little its actually seems used by the locals. Bolivia is an extremely poor country, but all you see on the lake are a few fish farms, you see hardly anyone out fishing for them selves and there families, you see no one on the shores growing cops, yet this is fertile land. They most be some sort of explanation for this, but in a country so poor, this I found extremely strange. There are a few locals dressed in some indigenous gear floating about in reed boats waiting for a tourist to charge for a photo of course, but even this seemed rare.
Peru and the Colca Canyon
We crossed the border in to Peru, having been warned by a few bikers that the officials there demand that you buy insurance for the bike. However they don’t sell it and they ask you to leave the bike there and travel by bus to the nearest town (3 hours away) and return with it. Or of course you can make a donation to their beer kitty and move on smoothly. So on arrival at the customs office we are duly asked if we have insurance for Peru, to which we both answer with confidence, yes! Now Christian did have an insurance certificate, albeit covering only Canada and the US, I on the other hand had only my international driving licence to try and blag the situation. With confidence I produced the document, which clearly the fella had never seen before. He must have looked at it for around 10 minutes, trying to read every page, which are all in different languages, including Spanish, but I was not sure if he could read. Eventually he handed it back with a frown and grunt and waved me away. Christian received the same treatment, clearly he had no idea what the papers were, but he knew he was having a sober night.
We rode on down the banks of Lago Titicaca, where on the Peruvian side there seemed much more utilisation of its waters, to the town of Puno. We found the main Plaza, parked the bikes in the middle of it, and downed a quick lunch. We wanted to push on towards Arequipa and having crossed the border, we had gained an hour in time, but lost an hour of light, meaning it would be dark by 6pm.
The road climbed steadily until you reach an Andean plateau at around 4500 metres. The scenery was fantastic, doted with lakes and rolling hills, but it was wind swept and barren and the temperature dropped amazingly. We remained at this altitude until we decided to turn of the Arequipa road and head towards the Colca Canyon. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but we lost the sun and what heat it had, plus we didn’t realise that we had to ascend a pass that topped out at 4900 metres. The ambient air temperature was 1 degree, given that we were doing 60 mph, that gives a wind chill of around -10 degrees (that's Celsius for you Americans).So arrival at our destination of Chivay was extremely welcome, as was the open fire in the restaurant and some steaming hot food.
The next day we headed through the canyon, the worlds second deepest at 3163 meters, twice as deep as the grand canyon and only beaten in to second by the Cotahuasi, that is around 100 miles away and again in Peru. As you drop in to the valley, the hill sides are terraced, this was done by the Incas and is still used toady for farming. You stop at a place called Cruz del Condor, which below it has a family of condors living there. Not that they are easy to see, there are quite elusive birds, but when you do get to spot one it’s quite a sight. With a wingspan of 2.8 metres, that 9 feet in real measurements, they resemble and incoming B52 more than a bird. The distance they cover across the sky, with little or no movement of their wings, is quite incredible, just the smallest change of wing pitch and away the go in to the distance. The best thing about this place was the fact we had it completely to our selves. We sat there for over an hour, just feeling the energy of the place and absorbing the nature. I am finding more and more, that it is these moments that I enjoy when I travel more than anything else. The big draw cards of countries no longer stimulate me as they once did. As you will see with Machu Pichu, the life has been pulled out of these places by the hordes of people that descend upon them. But for now I was very happy indeed.
We had two choices to get to Arequipa, return the way we had come or push on down a small dirt road that had little in the way of infrastructure. We took the dirt road. That night we camped in the wild as we had found noting in the way of what you could call a hotel, hostel or even really shelter. We found a reasonable sight, but had to get set up quickly, because we only had 15 minutes of light left and the temperature drops amazingly. We found some fire wood and huddled around the fire trying to keep warm while enjoying a box of Peruvian wine, but it helped wash down the rather stale bread and questionable cheese that we had managed to find. Wood was a premium and we resorted to dried cowpats, that where in abundant supply. I was surprised how well there burnt and how much heat they gave off, and they didn’t even smell that bad.
The next day took us along one of the worst dirt I have been on. It wasn’t dangerous, but it was extremely technical, with rocks and rain-washed gullies everywhere. It took us 8 hours to do 150kms, all of which had to be done standing up and when we eventually found somewhere for lunch a cold beer was extremely tempting, but we still were an hour from Arequipa and I never drink and ride, though this certainly does not stop the locals, who drive pissed all the time and if they are not pissed,they drive like they are.
Arequipa
This has to be one of my favourite towns that I have visited in South America. It has beautiful Spanish architecture, topped by the Plaza de Armas, which is surrounded of three sides by blaconed building and on the forth by one of south Americas grandest churches. It is touristy, but the place doesn’t live for tourists, it has its own life and vibrancy about it. You go in to a bar or restaurant and its not just full of gringos, there are locals enjoying an evening out as well.
Christian and I had booked in to a lovely place with big gardens strewn with hammocks and flowers. It was an oasis of calm and somewhere to recharge the batteries after the last few days. We went around the sights, monasteries, churches etc. and enjoyed some great cerviche, raw fish marinated in lemon juice, a Peruvian specialty and a few good espressos. From here we went our separate ways, I was heading to Cusco and he back to Bolivia where he is storing his bike for a few month while returning to Canada.
Cusco, the Sacred Valley and Machu Pichu
I think this has been my biggest disappointment to date on this trip, even bigger than the salt flats. I have to quantify at this point; never have I been fascinated by accident South American culture, I have watched an abundant amount of programmes on the subject, but never have I felt an allure to the place or the people than once ruled here. I can’t justify this in anyway, the Romans, the Persians, the Egyptians fascinate me, but in South America civilisations, I have but a passing interest.
So ,much to many peoples dismay, I didn’t bother to visit Machu Pichu. I had the feeling since being on this continent that when the time can, I would give it a miss. And when I arrived in Cusco, the starting point for any journey there, I just couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm to clamber on a train with hundreds of other tourists, all owing and arhing at the sight of some rocks that were built 500 years ago. Now I will grant that from all the photos I have seen, the setting is spectacular, but as I said early, for me sharing these kind of places with hordes of punters, just drains the place of energy and try as I could, I could just not bare the thought of being there with up to 700 people.
I did a few trips out to see some of the other Inca sites and they stone work is without doubt impressive. But I couldn’t help thinking, that whilst they had primitive tools, this was all done 3000 years after the Egyptians and 1500 years after the Romans. What did impress me was how quick they seemed to acquire this technology. They went from being a relatively small tribe to being the most powerful and advance culture on the continent, in the space of little more than 100 years. Then unfortunately the Spanish came along and pissed on they parade and in doing so destroyed most of what they had built, but more importantly, all the records showing how and where the technologies had been developed.
There are two main reasons for my lack of literary contact. 1- I actually like being out of contact and people not knowing where I am in the world. It gives me a sense of freedom; and 2- I always feel that when I am doing an update, I should be able to write about things that are exciting and memorable. And here lies an issue; I’m feeling a tad fatigued from my travels, yes I know that you all think I’m on an extra long holiday, but that’s just it. When you have two weeks away, o even a month, everything seems exciting, when that becomes two and a half years, well it becomes another set of fantastic mountains, some more world famous ruins, more beautiful sky. Yes I’m afraid I do feel travel fatigued, what was once exciting has become the norm, this feels awful to say and perhaps rather condescending, but its not meant to be, its just like anything we do in life; if we have it every day, it loses the feeling of of rarity, regardless of how good it is. As an example,I have always loved smoked salmon, perhaps my favourite food, but back when I worked for a living, I could have it every day, but instead would save it for Sunday breakfast. Well ,at the moment, I’m eating travel-smoked salmon every day, so forgive me if I sound at times, rather blasé. And by the way I would kill for some good smoked salmon, the food here is, shall we just say, ordinary! And 3- I have been somewhat distracted by events back in the UK, as I have some business issues that are proving a pain in the arse. People always think they can take the piss when you are not in the country. However , they are deeply mistaken.
The Worlds Most Dangerous Road.
I renamed this, “The Worlds Prettiest Road”, because it is indeed beautiful. The fact that its only 3 metres wide and has a drop off of around 1300 metres, well that make for its beauty, of course, a few years ago, this road used to see a lot of traffic, now there is a by-pass, so all that you encounter are a bunch of tossers riding down the hill on mountain bike, just so they can get a t-shirt saying “I survived the Worlds………………..”.
But the ride was stupendous, tight switch backs, one after the other and at time water pouring in sheets off the mountain, in what seems like rain, but in fact your are riding through a waterfall. You descend from 4600 meters to around 1500, over the course of 60kms and the landscape changed rapidly from barren snow topped hills, to lush sub tropical jungle, complete with parakeets and humming birds, so needless to say there is quite a temperature change along the way. A nice stop over for lunch then we rode back up again, which in fact was better as you always feel in more control going uphill on a bike than you do descending, also the weather improved so you were able to get a better view of the drop, that you did not want to take.
I spent a few days in La Paz, getting a few things sorted out that need to be done and to catch up with a few friends that I have met along the way. Big cities like this are always the best meeting point.
Lago Titicaca
The largest lake in South America and set at an altitude of 3800 metres, Lake Titicaca is quite a sight, with its crystal cleat waters and topped by some of the clearest blue skies you will ever see, in part due to its altitude, but also the lack of industry, meaning there is hardly any pollution in the air. I met up with the Christian, a French biker that I rode down the WMDR with, at the town of Copacabana, where he had booked us in to our own suit, complete with kitchen and garden, where I parked my bike amongst the 10 sheep that where happily grazing.
The next day we took a walk around the small town, to see what there was to do. While we were walking down the beach, we noticed a gathering of people and a stage being built. At first I thought it was for perhaps a concert for the evening, but then I saw the big satellite dishes that had been installed and came to thinking that this was something more important. All the locals were dressed in their finery, meaning brightly coloured woollens with a few bowler hats and feathers and there were some rituals to Patcha Mama going on. So we just sat back enjoying the sceptical to unravel. After around an hour, a large military helicopter flew overhead and a few minutes later, Presidenta Evo Morales turns up with his entourage, to be almost drowned in a sea of flower petals being showered on him by his admires. Now his quite an unusual man, given that he is an ex coca farmer and he is South Americas first indigenous president. However he is prone to very long and tedious speeches, as are most South American leader, so after the rose petals had drifted slowly to the ground, we made haste for a spot of lunch of fresh trout.
What surprised me most about Lake Titicaca, is how little its actually seems used by the locals. Bolivia is an extremely poor country, but all you see on the lake are a few fish farms, you see hardly anyone out fishing for them selves and there families, you see no one on the shores growing cops, yet this is fertile land. They most be some sort of explanation for this, but in a country so poor, this I found extremely strange. There are a few locals dressed in some indigenous gear floating about in reed boats waiting for a tourist to charge for a photo of course, but even this seemed rare.
Peru and the Colca Canyon
We crossed the border in to Peru, having been warned by a few bikers that the officials there demand that you buy insurance for the bike. However they don’t sell it and they ask you to leave the bike there and travel by bus to the nearest town (3 hours away) and return with it. Or of course you can make a donation to their beer kitty and move on smoothly. So on arrival at the customs office we are duly asked if we have insurance for Peru, to which we both answer with confidence, yes! Now Christian did have an insurance certificate, albeit covering only Canada and the US, I on the other hand had only my international driving licence to try and blag the situation. With confidence I produced the document, which clearly the fella had never seen before. He must have looked at it for around 10 minutes, trying to read every page, which are all in different languages, including Spanish, but I was not sure if he could read. Eventually he handed it back with a frown and grunt and waved me away. Christian received the same treatment, clearly he had no idea what the papers were, but he knew he was having a sober night.
We rode on down the banks of Lago Titicaca, where on the Peruvian side there seemed much more utilisation of its waters, to the town of Puno. We found the main Plaza, parked the bikes in the middle of it, and downed a quick lunch. We wanted to push on towards Arequipa and having crossed the border, we had gained an hour in time, but lost an hour of light, meaning it would be dark by 6pm.
The road climbed steadily until you reach an Andean plateau at around 4500 metres. The scenery was fantastic, doted with lakes and rolling hills, but it was wind swept and barren and the temperature dropped amazingly. We remained at this altitude until we decided to turn of the Arequipa road and head towards the Colca Canyon. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but we lost the sun and what heat it had, plus we didn’t realise that we had to ascend a pass that topped out at 4900 metres. The ambient air temperature was 1 degree, given that we were doing 60 mph, that gives a wind chill of around -10 degrees (that's Celsius for you Americans).So arrival at our destination of Chivay was extremely welcome, as was the open fire in the restaurant and some steaming hot food.
The next day we headed through the canyon, the worlds second deepest at 3163 meters, twice as deep as the grand canyon and only beaten in to second by the Cotahuasi, that is around 100 miles away and again in Peru. As you drop in to the valley, the hill sides are terraced, this was done by the Incas and is still used toady for farming. You stop at a place called Cruz del Condor, which below it has a family of condors living there. Not that they are easy to see, there are quite elusive birds, but when you do get to spot one it’s quite a sight. With a wingspan of 2.8 metres, that 9 feet in real measurements, they resemble and incoming B52 more than a bird. The distance they cover across the sky, with little or no movement of their wings, is quite incredible, just the smallest change of wing pitch and away the go in to the distance. The best thing about this place was the fact we had it completely to our selves. We sat there for over an hour, just feeling the energy of the place and absorbing the nature. I am finding more and more, that it is these moments that I enjoy when I travel more than anything else. The big draw cards of countries no longer stimulate me as they once did. As you will see with Machu Pichu, the life has been pulled out of these places by the hordes of people that descend upon them. But for now I was very happy indeed.
We had two choices to get to Arequipa, return the way we had come or push on down a small dirt road that had little in the way of infrastructure. We took the dirt road. That night we camped in the wild as we had found noting in the way of what you could call a hotel, hostel or even really shelter. We found a reasonable sight, but had to get set up quickly, because we only had 15 minutes of light left and the temperature drops amazingly. We found some fire wood and huddled around the fire trying to keep warm while enjoying a box of Peruvian wine, but it helped wash down the rather stale bread and questionable cheese that we had managed to find. Wood was a premium and we resorted to dried cowpats, that where in abundant supply. I was surprised how well there burnt and how much heat they gave off, and they didn’t even smell that bad.
The next day took us along one of the worst dirt I have been on. It wasn’t dangerous, but it was extremely technical, with rocks and rain-washed gullies everywhere. It took us 8 hours to do 150kms, all of which had to be done standing up and when we eventually found somewhere for lunch a cold beer was extremely tempting, but we still were an hour from Arequipa and I never drink and ride, though this certainly does not stop the locals, who drive pissed all the time and if they are not pissed,they drive like they are.
Arequipa
This has to be one of my favourite towns that I have visited in South America. It has beautiful Spanish architecture, topped by the Plaza de Armas, which is surrounded of three sides by blaconed building and on the forth by one of south Americas grandest churches. It is touristy, but the place doesn’t live for tourists, it has its own life and vibrancy about it. You go in to a bar or restaurant and its not just full of gringos, there are locals enjoying an evening out as well.
Christian and I had booked in to a lovely place with big gardens strewn with hammocks and flowers. It was an oasis of calm and somewhere to recharge the batteries after the last few days. We went around the sights, monasteries, churches etc. and enjoyed some great cerviche, raw fish marinated in lemon juice, a Peruvian specialty and a few good espressos. From here we went our separate ways, I was heading to Cusco and he back to Bolivia where he is storing his bike for a few month while returning to Canada.
Cusco, the Sacred Valley and Machu Pichu
I think this has been my biggest disappointment to date on this trip, even bigger than the salt flats. I have to quantify at this point; never have I been fascinated by accident South American culture, I have watched an abundant amount of programmes on the subject, but never have I felt an allure to the place or the people than once ruled here. I can’t justify this in anyway, the Romans, the Persians, the Egyptians fascinate me, but in South America civilisations, I have but a passing interest.
So ,much to many peoples dismay, I didn’t bother to visit Machu Pichu. I had the feeling since being on this continent that when the time can, I would give it a miss. And when I arrived in Cusco, the starting point for any journey there, I just couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm to clamber on a train with hundreds of other tourists, all owing and arhing at the sight of some rocks that were built 500 years ago. Now I will grant that from all the photos I have seen, the setting is spectacular, but as I said early, for me sharing these kind of places with hordes of punters, just drains the place of energy and try as I could, I could just not bare the thought of being there with up to 700 people.
I did a few trips out to see some of the other Inca sites and they stone work is without doubt impressive. But I couldn’t help thinking, that whilst they had primitive tools, this was all done 3000 years after the Egyptians and 1500 years after the Romans. What did impress me was how quick they seemed to acquire this technology. They went from being a relatively small tribe to being the most powerful and advance culture on the continent, in the space of little more than 100 years. Then unfortunately the Spanish came along and pissed on they parade and in doing so destroyed most of what they had built, but more importantly, all the records showing how and where the technologies had been developed.
Now , never being shy on trying a local delicacy when in a country, I thought it was time to try some Cuy, also known as guinea pig. Well, as you can see from the photo, its looks delicious, Im sure you will agree. Well let me tell you, it taste fucking awful and I couldnt get the taste out of my head for days. So if you are ever tempted, DON`T! Although I can highly recommend Alpaca and Lama.
Now Cusco is or should I say has been a very beautiful town, with some of the finest colonial architecture there is and has been awarded world heritage status by UNESCO, the death nell for any place. Whilst the buildings are still fine, you cant walk 10 paces without someone trying to sell you a hat with a lama on it, a massage or a tout trying to get you in to a restaurant for that "authentic dinner". It really was overkill and ruins what once must have been a fantastic site.
Whilst in Cusco I met up with my travel companions from southern Patagonia, Martin and Lauren, riding on a Honda XRV 750. I met them at they campsite, just on the outskirts of town. A lovely spot surrounded by old trees and drenched in sunlight during the day, plus a flock of chicken running around the place. I pitched my tent and we shared a few beers at a local tavern, only to come back and find my tent surrounded by ice that had fallen during a hail storm; great timing.
We rode together the following day down through the sacred valley, where you can still see the original Inca terracing clinging precariously to the sides of the steep mountains, but barely used today by the farmers, as there no longer have the knowledge of how to irrigate them sufficiently. We spent the night in the small town of Urabamaba, sitting next to the river of the same name and surrounded by enormous mountains.
The Nazca Lines
Martin and Lauren went their own way again and I headed to see some thing that I have always wanted to see – the Nazca Lines. Etched out on the dessert floor some 900 years ago are one of archaeology's great mysteries. There are many theories to why these people did this, but nothing conclusive has ever been unearthed. From ground level you would never be able to guess at the forms that are created or the accuracy and straightness of some of the lines. The area covers over 500 acres and was only discover in detail, when aviators were able to fly over the area in the 1920s.
I took an all too short flight over them early one morning to be able to see them properly and get some photos. Unfortunately the flights are only 30 mins, so by the time you have taken a few shots you are coming back down to earth. I would have like longer to take them in and get a grasp of this strange phenomenon.
Heading North and Ecuador.
I left the Nazca Lines behind after attending a lecture on them and the theories of the women who studied them for 40 years, Maria Reiche. Interesting, but too many theories and no proof.
Whilst in Cusco I met up with my travel companions from southern Patagonia, Martin and Lauren, riding on a Honda XRV 750. I met them at they campsite, just on the outskirts of town. A lovely spot surrounded by old trees and drenched in sunlight during the day, plus a flock of chicken running around the place. I pitched my tent and we shared a few beers at a local tavern, only to come back and find my tent surrounded by ice that had fallen during a hail storm; great timing.
We rode together the following day down through the sacred valley, where you can still see the original Inca terracing clinging precariously to the sides of the steep mountains, but barely used today by the farmers, as there no longer have the knowledge of how to irrigate them sufficiently. We spent the night in the small town of Urabamaba, sitting next to the river of the same name and surrounded by enormous mountains.
The Nazca Lines
Martin and Lauren went their own way again and I headed to see some thing that I have always wanted to see – the Nazca Lines. Etched out on the dessert floor some 900 years ago are one of archaeology's great mysteries. There are many theories to why these people did this, but nothing conclusive has ever been unearthed. From ground level you would never be able to guess at the forms that are created or the accuracy and straightness of some of the lines. The area covers over 500 acres and was only discover in detail, when aviators were able to fly over the area in the 1920s.
I took an all too short flight over them early one morning to be able to see them properly and get some photos. Unfortunately the flights are only 30 mins, so by the time you have taken a few shots you are coming back down to earth. I would have like longer to take them in and get a grasp of this strange phenomenon.
Heading North and Ecuador.
I left the Nazca Lines behind after attending a lecture on them and the theories of the women who studied them for 40 years, Maria Reiche. Interesting, but too many theories and no proof.
I wasn’t sure what route I would take north; I had been toying with the idea of riding up through the mountains, then taking a flight out to Iquitos in the Amazon basin. I would have been a great side trip, but time is marching on and if I am to complete my goal, then I need to pull my finger out and get moving.I have lost my focus recently and wasted time in places that did not deserve or justify it. So I have put the bit back between my teeth and have piled on the miles in a bid to regain some lost time . I am now in Ecudor an dheading the the capital, Quito, where I desparatly need a new rear tyre as I am currently running a slick that Valantino Rossi would be proud of, plus the bike is over due a service.
Since I have arrived in to Ecuador, it has not stopped raining and on the first day I was treated to one of the biggest storms I have ever ridden in, it was like a monsoon, but it just didn't stop, sheets of water were falling from the sky, washing mud and debris off of the hill sides. I would have done as well to be on a jet ski as I would a motorbike.
Im now in Quito the capital, which has a very pleasant climate, its only 25kms from the equator, but at an altitude of 2880 metres, so there are warm sunny days and chill evenings and the occasional massive storm. Im here for around a week as this is the first place in nearly 5000 miles that I have been able to find a BMW dealer for some much need service work and to get some new rubber on the old girl. I am ,however , still recovering from the cost of the rear tyre;$340, 3 times the UK price. I also need some spare rear break pads, but at $160, 10 times the UK price, they can wait until I reach California.I spent yesterday ( Saturday 18th )doing most of the service work and washing all the Ecuadorian mud of off the bike, not an easy task in its self.
Next weekend I will head to the Colombian border and continue the northward odyssey
