Quick update - in to the Colonies.

Sorry for the lack of updates, but I have either been covering miles, catching up with old travel buddies or had no internet. Its quite amazing that there is better coverage for a traveller in the third world than in the heart of the first. Everyone has it in there homes, but internet cafes are somewhat lacking, plus I have just been plane lazy.

Im now in Whitehorse in the Yukon and am travelling with Axel, whom I meet in Argentina. We meet up on Vancouver Island and have ridden up through British Colombia together. Tomorrow we leave for Dawson City (1500 inhabitants, City?) and up the Dempster HWY, across the arctic circle and the highest point north that I will reach, Inuvik.

I will write up a more detailed travelogue when the time permits, for now I am

concentrating on getting the journey completed and see as much of the great land has to offer. As yet I have not been attacked by any grizzlies, but there have been some ( very safe ) encounters with bear, moose and bison. As for salmon, only in the supermarket I am afraid, but I intend for this to change in Alaska!

God, Guns and Guts.

I left Miami after taking in the delights of this cosmopolitan city, its quite something to be sitting outside a bar at 2 am, watching a drunk rolling around in the gutter, a crack hoe plying her wears on one corner, a group of gang bangers plying theres on the other and a convertible Lamborghini at the lights. It really did feel like a scene from Miami Vice, thankfully no pastel box jackets though!

I spent my birthday, June 3rd, if you need to put that in your diary for next year, with the US side of the family, in Boynton Beach. I haven’t caught up with this branch of the family tree for nearly 18 years, so it was good to see the clan again and acquaint myself with the growing brewed. I now have 12 second cousins, as my cousins pop out new sprogs at a right old rate.

From here I set out cross country towards Arkansas, which only claim to fame is that ex-president Clinton used to be its governor (better that Schwarzenegger I suppose), to catch up with some friends and take a break from the drudgery of riding on the US interstate systems. Its great for eating up the miles, but the landscape on the east is, lets say rather flat and there only so many Denny’s, International House of Pancakes and Waffle Houses you want to eat in. I managed the trip in two days, however I totally under estimated the distance and on day two, spent 17 hours in the saddle and covered 850 miles. I assure you that I will never do that again. And I suppose that you will ask why I did? I really cant give a valid reason, I could have just pulled in to any one of a thousand bland motels, I didn’t have to be anywhere at a certain time, so I think the best explanation is that I’m a stupid wanker!

After recuperating from said ride and getting some work done on the bike, I set off cross country again, for a place that I have always wanted to see and somehow, even after travelling in the states several time, managed to miss – Monument Valley. On route I crossed through Oklahoma and New Mexico, this is an extract from my personnel journal – “I enter the BigDs diner and every head turns to see what has walked in through the door. The place is in Nowheresville Oklahoma, on the great plains, it stinks of fried food and stale air, the clientele are straight out of the stereo type text book; dudes in Stetsons, boots and big belt buckle or tie die shirts, filthy baseball cap and discount store Timberland rip offs. There is only one window and no ventilation, although the weather outside is a beautiful sunny day. A sign on the wall reads, “I don’t skinny dip, I chunky dunk!”, which is entirely appropriate, as everyone, with no exception, is at least 50lb overweight, including the waitress. The coffee is weak, the air is stinging my eyes and the food is greasy. But this place is so irresistibly mid America, it personifies everything that is wrong and

everything that is right about America”.

It took me two long days from Arkansas to get to the Utah border and on this night I camped by a river just 40 miles from Monument Valley. I rose early the next day extremely excited about eventually getting to see these rocks that I had seen so many time is western movies as a child, with John Wayne riding around on his horse, chasing Indians telling people to get off there horse and drink there milk and proving how the west was won, or stolen depending on how you look at it. By 7.30 am I was riding through the “Land of the Gods” and marvelling at the giant sand stone bluffs that tower above you, that have been carved out by a million years worth of sand storms and water erosion. My next thrill was riding down the road that featured on the album cover of the Eagles, Hotel California and is a piece of music and travel legend. Not only is this a great place to cruise through, it is a fantastic place to photograph, so I spend quite a few hours sitting around waiting for the light to be perfect, but your could be here for weeks, even months and come up with so many different shades of light, that none would seem perfect, but I was happy with what I could achieve given the limited time scale.

The next stop was Moab, the stop off town for Arches NP and some of the most spectacular rock scenery there is in the world. The first night I was there, i camped on the banks of the Colorado river and tried to get some photos of some of the arches , but missed the good light, so returned to my camp in the wilds, where I attempted a camp meal in the absolute pitch black of a moonless night and having only my head tourch for company. Unfortunately all this did was attract a hoard of flys, that either landed in my food or my mouth; now that's fresh protein for you.

I had better luck with the photos the next day, catching a storm coming in behind the arches, unfortunately I got caught in the storm on the walk back to the car park and got totally drenched, but I was happy with the night efforts. I had moved my tent to an RV park, so at least I had something a little more luxurious to return to - no fly soup tonight.

I rode out of the desserts of Utah on an extremely chilly morning, stopping at one of Americas great institutions, the diner! American cuisine leave quite a lot to be desired at times, but there do know how to do breakfast ( apart from coffee, its shockingly bad, there should be a law against what surely is mud mixed with hot water), I rode in to the Rockies and to the ski town of Teluride, surrounded by towering granite, this small town is the epitome of old time America , in the new modern age, with charming old houses lining its streets and crystal clear streams running through the place.

All day long I was straining my neck looking up and around at the magnificent countryside of what could be Americas most beautiful state. Forests of pine and aspen cover the mountains and streams and rivers tumble down them, I was truly enchanted. I stopped for the night at Ouray, which is clustered in a giant amphitheater, not only is it a beautiful to camp, it has the added bonus of have a natural thermal spring to help soak away the aches of the long days ride.

The following day I took to some of the jeep trails of the area, which I had been informed where of relative ease. Well maybe in a 4x4 jeep, yes, but on 500lbs of BMW, I assure you that is not the case. These roads indeed tested my resolve of both rider and bike and I would put some of this section as the toughest roads I have been along , anywhere, I really was on the limit of the mine and the bikes capabilities. In fact it got to the point where it went over the limits and I ended up with the bike on its side in 2 foot of muddy water and some very moist feet. Unfortunately, I had inadvertently taken a wrong turn, hence I was in to tough territory and with no one in sight, having to pick the heifer up on my own. After that I was in to mood for finding my way out and some lunch. The trail took me to the quaint old mining town of Silverton, which sits amongst the mountains like a forgotten relic of a bygone age, with old western style shop fronts, saloons with swing doors and even a small gauge steam train service.

I tied up my bike at the front of an eating establishment and consumed some Mexican food, whilst my socks and boots sat drying in the sun. I rode back to my camp with a school boy grip of misadventure on my face, happily covered in mud and sweat and enjoyed a cold beer with the camp host, from the fridge of his massive RV ( recreation vehicle) the sort if thing that we only see in the UK at a Formula 1 meeting, but in America are everywhere. Recession, what recession?

I left my beautiful camp ground and headed over Red Mountain Pass ( there is a red mountain there!) where first it started to rain and then it snowed. Excuse my profanity, but I was fucking frozen, there is only so much my heated grips can do, and I couldn't even feel them. I rode, shivering down in to the town of Durango, where I stuffed my face at an all you can eat Chinese buffet, were I certainly got my monies worth, as I started to warm up at the lower altitude and the glimpse of sun that shone through the window. I camped that night at a camp called Big Bend Camp, fun enough it was on a big bend in the river, so descriptive these Americans. Now do any of you remember the film National Lampoons Vacation, staring Chevy Chase and with a glimpse of Christy Brinkley? Well it was filmed at this very camp. Unfortunately Christy was not around, so I had to make do with the gentle sounds of the river to lull me to sleep.

I rode on through the Rockies and the great log cabins that people dwell in in this part of the world, stopping off at the cute little town of Lakecity, which is rather an exaggeration for a town with a population of around 500, clearly the founder had big expectations. The main pass time hear in trout fishing in the clear waters of the river the runs through town. I didn't have the time to stop and fish, but I have picked up myself a rod and have high hopes of hooking out a couple of specimens to roast over the camp fire later in my travels. Im now staying with friends near Breckenridge, where in years gone by I have enjoyed the skiing. Now I am relaxing in the mountain air and getting ready to enjoy the celebration of 4th July, when I understand, they celebrate removal of them selves from the commonwealth, what a bizarre thing to celebrate. I will of course be sporting my Union Jack shorts and waving the flag of the Empire.

I would like to share some words of wisdom that have been passed on to me while in this ex-colony -

"God , Guns and Guts, that what made America great" Alabama

"You cant ride to Alaska, Alaska is an Island!" Colorado.

Fantastic! Ciao x

Miami

Well quite amazingly I have retrieved my bike from US customs in record time, I literally had the paperwork cleared in around 5 minute, it took me much much longer to field all the questions from the highly inquisitive cargo handlers at the warehouse, who I tantalised with stories from Iran and Pakistan. As soon as you mention these countries to American, there faces take on a look of terror, I find it most amusing.

This is just a quickie, to say all is well and that me and the bike are safely on out way in America, the previous post has a lot more details of what I have been up to over the last month or so. Thanks for reading, Ciao.

From South to North America

By the time you read this I will be on my way out of Colombia and arriving in Miami, not my chosen port of arrival, but as so often as has happened in this trip, nothing has gone to plan. I had left my bike in Cali, after meeting with a shipping agent and arranging which route that bike would take and I would follow. This being LA, after which I would be back on track after missing out central America and Mexico. But Colombia being Colombia and me being the token gringo, things are never that easy. After 3 weeks of traveling around on a bus and sending the agent information on when i wold be back to pay him and get the bike on a a plane, suddenly the cost has jumped 50%.

So to cut a long story short, I have chosen to save a lot of money and fly in to Miami and make a plan on the hoof when I arrive. I just want to get out of here, I need a blast of western culture, which I am sure I will overdose on very quickly, but for now that is what I need.

After 7 months in the Latin section, I am ready to move on, I leave with some very fond memories, of great people and great places. I have mentioned before that I have become travel weary, so the break from the bike has been good and its allowed me to recharge my batteries and refocus on what Im doing. Something I have come to realise, is that travel in this way, moving around all the time, has become very unfulfilling and at time rather empty. You meet some interesting people, but for every interesting one, you meet 20 that are as dull as ditch water. Now that may seem harsh and perhaps, if you can spend more time with people, then you really find out if they are interesting, but by the very nature of travel, your meetings are very transient and this can conspire to deep loneliness. We as humans need intellectual and physical interaction and stimulation with our fellow humans, just meeting people does not satisfy these needs.

I don't leave South America with any regret. Its been a fun and I have seen some outstanding beauty and had some of the best motorcycling there is to be had in the world. What I find lacking here is cultural diversity, its not bland by any means, it just lacks something, something that only time brings, and relatively speaking this is still the new world. Unfortunately we are now in an age of homogenisation, where we, globally, are becoming more and more alike. Westernisation is seeping in everywhere you look, from coffee shops to burgers bars, clothes to pharmacy's, one town looks just like the other and we all do the similar things. South American countries think of themselves as very distinct and they are very nationalistic, but really its like an "Un-united States of South America". Divided by there politicians petty rivalry and desires for self glorification, but then that is politicians the world over. The difference between the countries, give the area that it covers, I find quite small. In isolation, each country is interesting, but after 7 months I am found them blending in to one.

So would I come back? Im not sure really, to Patagonia certainly and I would say that to Argentina and Chile, yes, but the rest of it, probable not. There is of course the Amazon , which I have not ventured down, but thats an entire adventure on its own, perhaps one day.

So, Colombia

As I mentioned in my previous update, I have been travelling around Colombia by bus, and it has been a welcome break to be off the bike and just sit back, read a book and let someone else navigate there way to the various places that I wished to see. After leaving Cali, my first port of call was Medellin, Pablo Escobar's old stomping ground and once a no go area for the police and army, let alone travelers. But today the story is very different, as Colombia basks in a new found confidence in its self as well as the confidence of outside investors. I only spent a couple of days here, its an OK city, but not as exciting as its history and I found the place rather modern and ordinary, no doubt a nice place to live, but not fascinating to the visitor.

The next stop was Cartagena, a town I have always wanted to visit ever since watching Romancing the Stone. It really is the archetypal colonial Spanish town, with beautiful balconies draped in bougainvillea, shady plazas, and a history of pirates and siege's by good old Sir Francis Drake, who was nothing more than a British government licenced pirate at best anyway (I think we could do with some of these now days, or are the pirates the government?). But he did manage to give the Spanish a few bloody noses in his day and pilfered quite a few doubloons in the process. The town literally is a living museum and in its hay day was Spain's most important port in the Americas and its where the majority of goods where shipped from, and exported to Spain, including the lucrative gold and silver that attracted said pirates. The only draw back of the place is the steaming hot climate, that is stifling, making anything more energetic than a gentle stroll an extremely sweaty experience indeed. I arrive on a Saturday night and the whole of the old town was alive to the sounds of salsa, as various bars and restaurants competed for the lucrative trade of both wealth Colombian and tight arsed back packers. The assumption is, that if your are from the west you have money the throw away, how wrong they can be, at least with a frugal bastard like me.

After a few days of drinking rum and rolling around the streets with a patch on my eye and a parrot on my shoulder, I headed down to the fishing village of Taganga, which can only be described as Rubbish-on-Sea, the place was an absolute shit hole; there are two reasons to come here - 1 its the easiest place to get in to Tayrone National Park and 2 you want to hang out with brain dead gap year travelers and drink beer and stuff cocaine up your nose. Another negative is that the place is infested with the worst kind of travellers that inhabit the planet - Israelis. The scerge of South America. Now don't get me wrong, Im not anti Semitic, but I have no time at all for groups of hairy faced oiks from the middle east , who act like they own the world and are as rude and arrogant as you can get. OK, Ill get off my soap box and try to be nice.

So needless to say I did hang around long, and due to the fact that I actually thought I was melting, I decided to head back down country for the town of San Gill. From here I was able to get a small bus up to the beautiful little town of Barricharra, which has been meticulously renovated to its former glory, and every house has to adhere to a strict code of appearance. The result is a town that looks like it is stuck in a time warp and if you had the absence of cars you could truly believe that you where back in the 18th century. It was a pleasure to be at a slight altitude again and though sunny, it felt like a warm spring day rather than someone putting a massive hair dyer on you as soon as you got out of your hammock. Next destination was Villa Leyva, such a genuine looking old hill town, that it was used as the set for a production of Zorro for Colombian TV.

Here I did a bit more horse ridding, still the horse was far more in control than I, but I enjoyed it all the same. I was also able to get in a few sessions of yoga and enjoy the beautiful nature that this area has to offer. Kicking back in a hammock while watching humming birds hover around you, takes a lot of beating.

Bogota - For years a bye word for violence, kidnapping and cocaine, Bogota is now a cleaned up city, boasting shinny new hotels built by Hilton, Intercontinental and various cosy boutique hotels that can rival most cities in the world. There is an air of confidence around the place that is say, "remember us? we are back!". I still don't think its on the list of most international travelers, but it is firmly on the gringo trail in South America and I'm sure with time it will attract more and more visitor. I stayed in the historic quarter of La Canderlaria, which is a nice place by day, but is rather close to some unsavoury neighborhoods, that produce some interesting characters as the sun drops from sight, but sometime, quite perversely, I enjoy that edginess. Perhaps I have been traveling too long!

Its is an amazingly cultural city though, and I have over dosed on museums and art galleries, but have avoided the plazas and churches, I am truly over those. One strange thing that I came across, was a whole city block full of shops selling military and police clothing, not fake but the real McCoy, rather worrying in a country that still does suffer from a high rate of crime and many instances of police impersonation. Now this was not hidden down some back alley, this was a stones throw from the presidential palace! I was tempted to kit myself out as one of the Village People, but you will be please to know that I thought better of it.

After a 10 hour bus ride I was back in Cali, the home of plastic surgery and though many people suggested I get my nose done while Im here, it is still its distinctive shape. After the debacle of the shippers, I managed to do precious little, a bit of writing and a lot of reading, its not much a city beyond the plastic surgeons and a few salsa bars, so I have just been sitting a waiting to catch my flight. Im now at Bogota airport, with one hour to go in South America and whilst I am reflecting on the past few months , I am firmly looking at the future and what awaits in North America. First port of call will be to see my cousins in Florida, who I have not seen for an eternity, then I have to decided on my route that I will take northwards, there is nothing like leaving things to the last minute, but its is rare that in life we have such flexibility to just go where we fancy and I will enjoy this while I can. The main priority is to get in to Alaska before the bears start to hibernate and I have to put nails in my tyres to get some traction.

So lets hope all goes well with US customs, Ill keep you posted.

Colombia

I am now in my last country that I will travel in on my journey in South America - Colombia. I have only been here for 10 days, but so far have found the country and its people to be warm and welcoming . Colombia is famous for many things, some being - cocaine, plastic surgery, coffee and FARC guerillas to name but a few.

I spent around a week in Quito, just getting stuff done on the bike and taking some time out to catch up on DVDs and email and as the guest house had a good kitchen, some home cooking, which made a good change from getting the local fare, which is pretty bland. I crossed the border in to Colombia and felt a great relief that my journey in South America was coming to an end. Not a relief in the sense that I don't like the place, I do, but it has been a tiring 6 months, the road conditions, poor driving standard and constant changes in altitude have all taken there toll. I have also been suffering from an annoying cold for the past two months, which I have finally had diagnosed as bronchitis, nothing terrible, but combined with the travel it has made me low on energy . So i now have a ton of antibiotics to take, which I detest, but need must. Now Ecuador is very like many south American countries, in that it has a rather strange political system and while I was there, the general election was taking place. As there were 85 candidates, to make it easier for the voters, candidates were given numbers, just in-case you vote for the wrong person. No wonder these countries are always in crisis. Still the UK seems pretty screwed and we only have the choice of three!

Riding out of Quito I rode across the equator, so I am now officially back in the northern hemisphere - I almost feel I am in Alaska! Its always strange feeling crossing the eqator, but looking at the map, it feels a long way from Ushuaia, almost the most southerly place on earth and having come by motorcycle all the way. I felt good at this accomplishment, but also a feeling of fatigue when you look at the map and see how far it is to Alaska.

After crossing the border in to Colombia- a remarkable easy task, I rode through the lush hills, that have a very different feel to that of Ecuador. It often amazes me how different a country can feel and look, within just a few miles, the topography was totally different, the hills were far more rugged and rocky, as opposed to the more rolling feeling that you have in Ecuador . Though I was no higher in altitude, the valleys where much deeper and dramatic, the other big change was the people; much more friendly, that's not to say the Ecuadorians were rude in any way, but the people here , in part due to there isolation for so many years, are so inquisitive about what you are doing and what you think of their country, its a really refreshing feeling.

I arrived in the whitewashed colonial town of Popayan where I fund a very comfortable place to bed down and park the bike and took a relaxing walk around the lovely old buildings and being stared at like I was from outer space; clearly they don't get any tourist in this part of the world, but it was a friendly feeling. From here I rode up a really crap and bumpy road to the small town of San Agustin, to see the archaeological park that has stone statues carved by the some of the areas earliest inhabitants, around 3000 years ago. The town is set amongst some lovely countryside and I took the opportunity to do some horse riding, something that I enjoy, but confess to not being very skilled at, but it was nice to be out in the hills and enjoy the nature.

I also visited the small market town of Silvia, to see the local indigenous people came down from the hills to do their weekly trading and bartering. Now this was not the most spectacular market for goods for sale, but it was what they wear that was the most fascinating. I don't want to sound like I am taking the piss, but who ever came up with the concept of wearing a violet blue rug over your shoulders if you are a women and wrap it around you waste and wear it as a skirt if you are a man? Top This off with a very small rimmed bowler hat and a pair of shinny black or blown boots with yellow laces and I though I had turned up to a clown convention.

Im sure there are perfectly good reasons for this kind of get up, but I could see nothing practical in it at all. Don't take this out of context, I would hate to think that in a few years that everyone will have traded in their prime bowler for a baseball cap and their violet rug for a pair of fake Levis, but I think the question is still valid - who the bloody hell came up with the style and why was it adopted by the whole tribe, it was just bizarre, but incredibly enjoyable to people watch as men strutted around the town plaza with chickens under there arms ready for the pot and engaging in animated conversation, which I could only but guest to its content .

My next port of call was Cali, the home of Colombia's plastic surgery industry, where women and men having procedures to enlarge there boobs, reshape noses, have liposuction, their teeth straightened, and believe it or not bottom implants. Bum implants, bloody hell there are some women in the west that definitely don't need that. People just look plastic though, I have never been to a place where so many people have braces on they teeth and bandages on there noses. I found it all rather sad actually. Don't get me wrong a well sculpture pair of breasts are fantastic, but you have to draw a line somewhere and in this town its an obsession and not a healthy one, there are very few gyms, just a clinic on every corner.

I have decided to make some changes to my travel plans, for several reasons. I really want to get to Canada and to Alaska and I am running out of time, so after spending a couple of weeks seeing Colombia, the plan is to fly the bike to LA and skip central America and Mexico. Now I'm sure you are all aware of the current health problems in Mexico, which are being blown out of proportion, but I am concerned that if things escalate that the US could close the border. Now that probable wont happen, but if I fly direct to the states, it will put me back on schedule. Also I am feeling travel weary and feel like getting to a country that has road signs to find your way and street names in towns, and people that hopefully can give you directions rather than being sent 6 different ways and ending back where you stared. In fact I should even be able to use my GPS again, what bliss!

So I have left my bike in storage in Cali and have taken a bus up to Medellin, where I intend to do some partying before heading to the coast to get a tan and lay in a hammock before having to take those bloody pills. The plan is to be in the US for around early June then head to some of there national parks to camp and enjoy the great outdoors once again, I cant bloody wait.

Peru and Ecuador

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.

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.

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