Ducati Monster Forum

This weekend I bought this…


(https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5741/29505117753_7061413173_c.jpg)


…for the express purpose of riding to Buenos Aires.   Approximately one year from now I will quit my job, get on the back of my DR650, and head south with no schedule and limited only by the need to eventually return to the rat race before I run out of money.  This will include a re-boot of my attempt at dinner with Carlos, who unfortunately had his accident days before I was supposed to meet up with him on a 16-hr layover during my return from Ecuador.  This time it will be harder to smuggle bourbon to you, Carlos, if for no other reason than I will likely end up drinking it myself before I reach Panama.

So this next twelve months is about my prepping for the trip, and seeking the conflicting opinions, bold suggestions, and off color insights of my fellow DMFers.  Yes, ADVrider is better for this sort of preparation---and I do use it for research---but it is too large and too fast for my tastes, and I much prefer the company of misguided ducatistas.

Anyway, more to come over the next twelve months, as I hope to tap the collective expertise.

I only have this to offer...

get to the restaurant about an hour early and eat. Otherwise you'll go hungry. ;)

That's the "off color insight" I was referring to.   ;D

Ask UNG for updates to the DR650 . . .

no need to get to the restaurant so early . . . our rations here are quite good . . .

Actually, I'm one step ahead of you: Ung and I have traded PMs about this, and he was very helpful in guiding my bike shopping.  (As was He Man, to the extent he wasn't steering me towards the 690 Enduro he is pining for.  ;D)


You can't tell from this pic, but the bike has nearly all the ADV stuff you could want, save side racks and panniers.  So I saved some time and $$ from having to make those mods myself.  That said, I originally was searching for stock DR650s, so that in the process of modding I'd get to know the bike.  My wrenching skills are basic (change fluids, replace chains, swap sprockets, new belts, spark plugs, &c) and I need to improve them for the trip.  That'll be one of focal points for this year.  Currently, I'd like to learn to adjust valves and adjust carbs (my duc is a fuelie, so I've been spared the task so far).  I'd also like to get better at diagnosing problems, although I'm not sure how one goes about acquiring that skill.

Anyway, the DR650 was chosen for, among other things, the ease of wrenching.  I look forward to poking and prodding.

Well, I know a guy who knows a guy who could lend you the shop for a day to wrench the bike locally . . . This guy might even feed you and give you fluids to drink !!!

Congrats!

You're really doing it this time. Aren't yah?

This time?  Maybe I mentioned dreams of this before, but I don't recall.  In any case, yup is the answer (barring job loss or other catastrophic/tragic event).  The real issue now is that I can't really wait.  Once you decide you are leaving a job it is tough to fake it.  Even tougher to fake it for 12 whole months.




Sounds like a decent guy.  I may have to buy him a drink, too.  ;D

Safe travels! Sounds like a great adventure.

I met Carlos here in Michigan right before the detroit ducati shop opened. A quick visit but a good guy indeed!

Nice 1.21GW  [thumbsup] [thumbsup]

Adjusting valves on the DR is a total piece of cake mate, dead easy.

Not that it will matter, IME you wont need to touch valve adjustment between New York and Beunos Aires.

I'll keep tuned to this station.  ;)

 [popcorn]

My only suggestion if you're riding down to Buenos Aires, stick to the west coast and then cross over to Argentina. The easiest border crossing down there is via Paso Los Libertadores (scenic highway), but other crossings might be more "fun". Ecuador, Peru and Chile are very "gringo friendly".

hey duccarlos . . . will be visiting SoFla next week . . . do you have the time to meet?

When next week?! I'll be in town, but visiting a customer from Tuesday to Thursday. I'm available Friday!

Good advice.  I have a buddy who owns lives on the coast of Ecuador and expect to hang there for a few weeks, so I imagine I will stick to the coast for a good portion of the trip.  That said, the inland parts are pretty awesome too, so maybe I go down the coast and back up the middle.  That's the best part of operating with no strict plan...

Ok, opinions sought.  I am deciding whether or not to sell the duc.

Sell
Once winter hits, the duc will be put away for the season.  In spring, I will likely ride the DR most of the time prepping for the trip.  Then I will embark on the trip for 6-12 months, maybe more  I really have no idea after that, but likely I'll end up back in the US in a new city---no more NYC.

By the time I am resettled, all in all, the duc will probably be hibernating for 2 years.  Even then, I am eager to try a new breed: streetfighter, hypermotard, any one of various drool-worthy KTMs, appealing non-Duc italian bikes, and so on.

Keep
...buuuuuttttt, the duc is such a fun little girl.  And that styling is timeless.  And it's a duc.  And it's MY duc.  And though not technically my first bike, it is de facto my first bike.  But to be fair, I've always been one of those people that doesn't keep much and isn't very sentimental---I'd rather make new memories then dwell on old ones.  90% of my possession will be sold.  The rest will be with me on my bike, or in a bag or two stored in my sister's basement.

I guess the best sell option is to return it to stock a bit and then sell the bits, but that is a PITA.  So I'd either part the thing out or sell it whole.  Whole, what am I getting, $3000?  $3500?  $4000?  Parted: no idea.  It is worth selling to pocket $3500?  That's maybe an extra month of living down south, or a down payment on a new bike when I get back, but not much else.  So maybe the economic guidance is to keep it.

In the end, it's a personal choice.  But some thoughts would be appreciated from the wiser fools in the audience.

Park it a howie's place and I'll ride it to my next DIMBY  ;D

:D

I said the wiser fools in the audience.  ;)



Ok, if it's stored lonely in some garage while I'm abroad and you are back at DIMBY, you are welcome to it.

You can store it in my garage.  My bike and lawnmower will keep it company.  Ung can take it for a spin.

Storage is not an issue---my dad has kindly offered space in his cavernous garage.  But the question is whether I would use it whenever it is I return.  Might be worth selling and not worrying about it, then just buying a new bike whenever I get back and settled.

For the money you will get for the bike, IMO, worth keeping.  Worry and hassle?  Obviously your decision.

Half right there  ;)

Store it and when you return if you aren't interested deal with it then.

It isn't worth much as a bike, but you could get some decent money as parts if you're willing to part it.

Update:

Ok, with today's payday I hit my savings target for this trip, so it is on.  [thumbsup]  The plan now is to quit working in May, go to Peru for 2 months of mountain climbing (my other obsession) return to the USA and leave for Mexico in Aug or Sept, which would put me in Panama roughly Nov before continuing on into S. America in the new year.

Bike is 95% set.  Just need to: 1) fix the NSU switch when I change the oil (a minor DR650 quirk with potential for disaster if left unattended); 2) get the suspension adjusted; 3) switch out the can and mid-pipe.  Minor things that I can do over the winter/spring.  I need to school myself on carbs, since my bike experience has so far been FI and I will need to adjust on the fly as I ride through various altitudes in the Andes.

Got a great set of panniers from here: http://www.moskomoto.com/ (http://www.moskomoto.com/) .  Used them already on a small camping trip and they were great.  Highly recommended to anyone looking for a set for their dirt bike or dual sport.

Finally, if anyone has any suggested spots to visit anywhere from here to Tierra del Fuego, let me know.  I'm compiling a list.

Footnote: Oh, and the decision (based on the board's campaigning above) I came to re: the duc is to keep the it stored and deal with it when I get back in 2017.  Will probably need some advice on how to prep for long term storage at some point.

I know exactly how not to do it [bang] [laugh]...so I can advise how to do it. [thumbsup]

Ha!  Step 1: Don't store it in DP's barn.  In fact, keep it a minimum of 200 miles from that graveyard of steel and iron.

Gives the term 'Barn Fresh' an entirely new meaning...eh? ;)

Clean and wax bike, change oil, fog cylinders, steel tank, remove battery or have someone put it on a tender occasionally, fill with Stabil or equivalent product added to fuel, chage brake and cluth fluid, fill tires to maximum pressure on sidewalls, place bike on stands if available, and if you want cover with a breathable cover.  That should about do it. Oh, most important part, enjoy your adventure!

So, do I have to go on a diet?

"Fog cylinders"...?

"Steel tank"...?

The rest I understand.

He's suggesting to spray a 'fogging oil' into the cylinders while the bike is running just prior to shutting it down for its' sleep. You can find it...look around. The last step is to change the oil/filter.

He's suggesting for a steel tanked bike...like yours...to fill the tank with stabilized fuel. I'd suggest you run the bike with the stabilized fuel to fill the lines before you fog the cylinders...and upon bringing out of sleep to drain the tank before starting.

Ethanol fuel is tough to figure.

So I shouldn't flush the tank by running it until empty?  Keep it full and with stabilizer, which is basically what I do over the winter.

Will seek out fogging oil.

I'd empty the tank after filling the lines with stabilized fuel. After a year it's junk anyway, and if the interior of your tank is sound being empty won't hurt it IMO.

Whether or not the stabilized fuel will work when you go to fire things up will remain to be seen.i

Ethanol sucks. ;)

The steel tank part is you do not need to worry about tank expansion from ethanol poisoned fuel.  A full tank will not rust unless water is present in the fuel.  A tank expertly coated with POR 15 by an expert like ducpainter will not rust if empty.  Any other steel tank?  Moisture in the air can (not will) cause rust.  A little flash rust on an otherwise solid tank?  No problem.  Ethanol does absorb water over time.  Modern gasoline, with or without ethanol does not store as well as the old stuff did.  Meanwhile, starting my lawn mower each season sometimes requires maybe two or three extra pulls on the cord and may smell bad until the tank is topped off with fresh fuel.  Well, I think some will agree with me, fill it.  Others will agree with Nate, run it dry. 

Funny.  I was just wondering how you were going with your plans.  Gonna be a great trip..... 

Great to hear you're funded!  The "game on" feeling is a good one.

No TAT trip?

I haven't forgotten.  The plan was to squeeze the TAT in between the Peru climbing trip and Mexico start of the bike trip.  I have to figure out logistics and costs.  Would be nicer if there were a TAT-like route that ran from PA-->TX.  Anyway, we'll chat.  How's the Adventure 1190 savings plan coming?

Slow.

But steady. I may downgrade to a 990 just to make it happen.

Also...

(http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y25/900rider/Misc/FB_IMG_1452444320896_zpshwrtggex.jpg) (http://s2.photobucket.com/user/900rider/media/Misc/FB_IMG_1452444320896_zpshwrtggex.jpg.html)

See, the DR can do anything.  Why would you want some Austrian made crap?

[laugh]

Got my trip vaccinations today.  Insurance doesn't cover squat, so it was all out of pocket.  Probably comes to $500 all-in once I pick up the meds on the way home.  Still waiting on one vaccination---rabies---but the physician didn't have in stock but I hear it's pricey, something like $1k for the 3-shot process!

Wouldn't it be easier to just get bit by a foamy raccoon and then let insurance step in?

;D

Cheaper for sure. :P

I considered that last year when they wouldn't pay for my malaria pills before my last trip.  For a brief second I thought about actively trying to catch malaria so that they'd have to pay in order to spite them.  Fortunately, reason got the better of me.

Just gave my two-weeks notice.  It's on.

Fly to Peru June 1 for two months of alpine climbing in the Andes.  Then back to the states to get my DR650 and ride south to Argentina.

Carlos, if you're out there, I'm going to be tapping you for Darien Gap recon.  Riders on ADVrider and Horizons Unlimited have noted the lack of cheap and easy alternatives---the days of hiring a local boat are gone, apparently.  I don't want to have to fly my bike or pay the $1k for the Stallratte if I don't have too.  You find me a way, I'll buy you the biggest steak dinner in Panama.  [thumbsup]

Done!!

Riding the Darien Gap!!  :o :o :o :o

Has something changed recently? I was under the impression the only bike that could actually accomplish this feat was a ROKON... and it took weeks. (admittedly I haven't been over to ADV much since the format change... it doesn't play well with work or with the limited bandwidth at home)

The reference was for finding a way across that doesn't cost a $1k, which is the going rate.  You can't ride over, although there is a tale floating around the ADV world of a guy who did it and when he eventually got stopped in Colombia by border guards he just greased some palms and was on his merry way.  Not sure if it is true, and I lack the temerity to try it myself, so I'll looking for sanctioned ways across.  Less expensive sanctioned ways.

there is a way from la palma to a port in shitombia . . . about 500 . .  waiting on confirmation

Yes, go the sanctioned route please.

Because, if you get kidnapped by baddies, we won't get to see any of the pictures, and that'd be really disappointing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDi9uFcD7XI (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDi9uFcD7XI)
Possible solution?

(https://cmgpbppostonpolitics.files.wordpress.com/2016/03/acc-trumpsteakpix-1-1.jpg)







Ha, I've already dropped enough money in the bike getting it ADV ready.  Can't afford the H2O mod.

thise steaks look good . . .

Be cheaper to charter a Learjet to fly you and your DR to Locombia than make that rash commitment  :o

[laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

Pls remember I am on a diet . . . I need to stay below or at 200lbs/90kg

Jesus Carlos!  200lbs is a shit ton of steak!!

:o

just cause of the diet  . . .  :-\

So if it weren't for the diet you'd just BBQ a 1/4 cow and dig in?

[bow_down]

Just a snack

why not ? and don't forget the pork . ..  ;D

Well yeah.

Roll the whole thing in bacon and deep fry it

good idea  . . . Oh, and don't forget the rolls and garlic/herb butter

http://www.ducatimonsterforum.org/index.php?topic=606.msg1352353#msg1352353 (http://www.ducatimonsterforum.org/index.php?topic=606.msg1352353#msg1352353)

that's BBQ . . . low n slow

Woke up to this monstrosity (just kidding) in the courtyard of my hotel.  Owner turned out to be a German who has been ADVing in south america for three years!

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/8/7336/27809984181_094d688ba9_c.jpg)




Anyway got me excited for my trip, so I thought I'd share some images of the current pre-trip in Peru.  Sorry, but it's mostly mountains.  No motos yet:

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/8/7243/27568451190_470af05f7b_c.jpg)

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/8/7397/27401997582_e1616e24db_c.jpg)

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/8/7561/27086609243_56da2006e8_c.jpg)

(https://c3.staticflickr.com/8/7299/27084527274_1689249900_c.jpg)

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/8/7403/27233931334_12fc9d6aaa_c.jpg)

(https://c8.staticflickr.com/8/7291/27086580983_fdb51c4260_c.jpg)

Moar pics!

Awesome!

The German is trying to sell the KTM, btw.   ;)

Gah!

Enjoy the adventure young man.👍

Indeed!

Enjoy  [beer]

Leaving Barcelona in a few days to pick up my bike in CT and head down to start my Americas trip.  Should be crossing into MX the first week of October.  In the meantime, here are some pics from Spain.  Didn't really carry my camera much, so I don't have many:

From one of the numerous horse festivals in Menorca:

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/9/8197/28576733254_5433fb3fe5_c.jpg)



And I like that Magic and Bird showed up:

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/9/8002/28914542230_a6ca9cd431_c.jpg)



The Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, which I had seen a half dozen times from the outside but never bothered buying an entrance ticket.  This year, I took the plunge and man was it worth it.  I'm not a religious man but there was definitely something powerful about that space.  The light is amazing:

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/9/8025/29546291531_ba339a9c53_c.jpg)



And of course one for the DMF crowd:

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8055/29069694152_3cbf26274c_c.jpg)

[thumbsup]

Those spacers are waiting for you when you get back

Sweet, believe it or not they've already been claimed by someone.  This even before I've put the damn things on the bike!  Somehow I've managed to convince a Venezuelan girl to accompany me for a bit in Mexico, so she is beta testing them for us.

Anyway, many thanks Kevin.  [thumbsup]

Good deal. May they help you transport many señoritas ;D

Received, installed, ready to go.  I have added you as my sole sponsor on my webpage.  ;D

[laugh]

Awesome

I just went to show Cindy and couldn't find the sponsor section?!?

Yeah, despite the fact that I have a website logging my adventures, I'm not actually really into self-promotion, so the "about" section is does not have a direct link.  If you click on the magnum image under news, you get to this:

http://www.infinitejelly.com/about (http://www.infinitejelly.com/about)

I was gonna steal an image of your logo and use that but it seemed a little difficult for my basic web design skills.  I may try to do it once I get a free moment.

[laugh]

Whats wrong with tomatoes?

How about we try to keep this thread about the journey...please?

...or about Carlos eating dinners?   ;D

We already have 3 threads in NMC about Carlos eating...probably more.

That's sufficient.

I'm hoping that once the kids are out of the house, I will be able to relocate to Barcelona. That is my dream lifestyle.

1.21GW, please give me an ETA to Panama.

Looking like January.  Will have a better sense once I get through Mexico.

Currently in Midland, TX.  Marathon tomorrow, entering Big Bend Nat'l Park Thursday.  In Mexico Friday.  I expect ~2 months in Mexico, ~1.5 months for all the countries in between, then Panama in January 2017.  Of course, nothing ever goes as I plan, so take that all with a grain of salt.

The adventure starts when the plan ends

gotcha

Ok, so I haven't been taking many pictures since I'm trying to get out of the USA pretty quickly, mainly because it is expensive and also I just want to get into terra incognito.  But to sate the crowd, here are a few things I've seen between CT and TX:


A church at night in northern VA.  I've been trying to learn how to take decent night shots, so I've been a little trigger happy when the sun goes down:

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/9/8442/29852307406_3ff69d2261_c.jpg)



In Chattanooga I ran into a nasty summer storm.  Saw the dark clouds forming and they even had a twist to them, which made me a little more cautious.  Once the rain hit it hit hard: limited visibility and tightly packed cars on the highway.  Not fun, not safe.  So I pulled over under the next overpass.  This guy came up behind me maybe one minute later.  He was a local who has lived in various towns in the region over the years but also in Alaska.  Ridden his bike all around the US.  It was funny to see me an my thumper with all the ADV bells and whistles, my Gortex riding gear, my full-face helmet with shield, etc. next to this guy that was harley all the way: jeans, t-shirt, leather vest full of patches, brain bucket helmet, and a pair of Maui Jim sunglasses he bought on deep discount at Unclaimed Baggage in Scottsboro, AL.  He said the deal was so good he bought four pairs!  Sunglasses in torrential rain seem more a hinderance than advantage, but I guess I'm just a riding wuss.  ;D

In the end, I was reminded that if you ride two wheels you really don't have trouble finding friendly conversation anywhere.

(https://c3.staticflickr.com/9/8209/29325751994_ed8a38265f_c.jpg)



Rainbow over downtown Asheville, NC.  In Asheville I stayed with a rider I met on ADVrider.  He (and to an extent, his wife) has done a lot of riding in the SE USA and in Mexico, so after dinner and a few drinks at Asheville's fine microbreweries (over 20 in town!) we broke out my Mexico road map and he gave me some great advice and suggestions.  I continue to be amazed at the hospitality that strangers on the road provide without any expectations of anything in return---maybe I've spent too much time in New York.

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/6/5793/30008860822_170d683b6b_c.jpg)



Light hitting a fallen tree in the forest along the Natchez Trace Parkway in Mississippi.  The Trace was an old colonial-era trail that ran from Nashville, TN to Natchez, MS.  Sections of the sunken road remain, though most of it has been consumed by the forests.  The ride is largely a seamless stretch of clean asphalt that runs between dark alleys of southern pine forests and open fields comprised of grass, rail fences, lone trees, and the occasional cotton field.

(https://c8.staticflickr.com/9/8657/30013203375_3c999d1693_c.jpg)



In Dallas I stayed with a friend and we went to the Texas State Fair.  The highlight was watching a bunch of young kids get instructions on how to show their goats for the following day's livestock judging.  The goats weren't cooperating and the kids were growing tired but to their credit they stayed 'til the end and pulled and poked and adjusted the stance of those poor goats until they were blue in the face:

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/6/5565/30038364811_59d97ef389_c.jpg)

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/6/5108/29410278763_eda1f1c6c1_c.jpg)

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/9/8072/30122475705_5120dc8c31_c.jpg)


I stopped in Austin for two nights to visit friends and we went to Austin City Limits, a music festival.  Weather was perfect and both nights saw spectacular sunsets:

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5597/29494744673_397a1e1082_c.jpg)



West Texas is as flat and windy as they say.  Nothing but empty fields, pump jacks, and wind farms.  The wind was particularly bad in certain areas and was throwing me and my bike around like a rag doll.  Not good.  I spent 340 miles in a MotoGP tuck, which is particularly uncomfortable on a thumper with 90/120mm front/rear tires and a set of panniers and tail case that acted as a parachute:

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/6/5217/29493770213_7c6b14defd_c.jpg)

I'm jealous already! 

Man that sunset pic is awesome. 

Keep it up [thumbsup]

You head straight down I 10 in TX?  There are so many rides from Austin to Marfa, TX, Big Bend Country where your terra firma will be on full display.

I did I-20 from Dallas and ended up going through Big Bend National Park and crossing over through Presidio.  I'm in Ojinaga now.  Border crossing was relatively painless, even with the bike.  I was interested in Marfa but I ended up choosing the Big Bend route via Marathon.  Next time.

I'll post some pics of Big Bend and highway 170 when I get a chance.  Hotel internet here is dial-up speed so I'm off for some tacos al pastor and hopefully they'll be uploaded by the time I'm back.

More later.

glad you made it there.  Crossing into Mexico is easy, it's getting back.  [leo]

After racing through west Texas like I was trying to escape hell, I ended up in Big Bend National Park.  West Texas is the northern extension of the Chihuahua desert, one of four deserts in North America (others: Mojave, Sonora, Great Basin).  It is what I will technically call "shitty desert": vast emptiness, flat landscapes with nothing to see but plants that are crying out to be euthanized, dust seemingly everywhere, hot temperatures and a constant penetrating sun that makes everything scorching to touch.  Scenery consists solely of pump jacks and pickup trucks and the occasional roadside grass fire.

But approaching Big Bend you enter a more lush and active desert, what I will technically call "awesome desert".  Still hot, still dusty.  But wildlife comes alive around Marathon, a town ~60 miles from the north entrance to the park.  Hawks and eagles perch atop cacti, jackrabbits lope across the road, lizards, snakes, and other crawly things enter the road and retreat at the sound of approaching engines, and butterflies are everywhere.  At the same time, the flat landscape that defines west Texas disappears and is replaced by small and then big mountains.  This is the view of the Chisos Mountains in the center of the park, taken from the north entrance road:

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/9/8410/30046166942_403f9ae2a8_c.jpg)


Big Bend National Park butts up against the Rio Grande, covers 1,250 square miles, and is the only US National Park to contain an entire mountain range.  Needless to say, there were a lot of camping options.  For comfort reasons, I elected to head up to the Chisos Mountain Basin at over 5000' in order to find cooler sleeping conditions.  The centerpiece of the basin is a peaked called Casa Grande:

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/6/5745/29864716220_7e7e0f55b6_c.jpg)


The park itself offers excellent riding: clean, smooth pavement curves around and over the mountains and hill sides.  As the park is rather inaccessible compared to its peers Yellowstone, Rainier, Yosemite, etc., the roads are nearly empty.  I went a good 5 to as much as 20 minutes between seeing another vehicle.  It's just you, your bike, and more stunning views of nature than an Ansel Adams monograph.  One typical road:

(https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5518/30045733602_9fd70e21d2_c.jpg)


Because of the variety of mountains and their patchy groupings, sunrise and sunset are particularly good times for site seeing.  Additionally, the weather is cooler and makes for comfortable riding in the morning until about 9-10am.  Sunrise in the desert:

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/9/8727/30159832355_28c92f5813_c.jpg)


And sunset in the mountains:

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/9/8393/30125346556_3a08d366a0_c.jpg)


I don't have any animal photos, mainly because my camera is fixed lens and any living thing more than 10 feet away is the size of an ant in my photos.  However, the wildlife really is abundant.  I've been to a dozen or more National Parks and none compares to the variety and activity I saw at Big Bend.  Granted, most was at dusk and dawn, since these creatures want to escape the midday heat as much as you or I.  Crossing the road ahead of me just this morning I saw: a roadrunner, numerous jackrabbits, various snakes (Western Diamondback Rattler are common, though I was going too fast to identify), red tailed hawks, a gray hawk, and of course turkey and black vultures picking at roadkill.  There were hikers that saw Mexican black bears near the trail when I arrived.  We heard javelinas near the camp at dusk.  And I also saw a tarantula try to crawl under the bathroom door at the campsite before someone opened it and inadvertently swept him away into the grass.  Grasshoppers and butterflies were everywhere.

The plant life is equally diverse and active, but I don't know how to identify much beyond prickly pear and ocotillo.  Here is some ocotillo; sadly, though they were green none in the park were blooming right now:

(https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5801/30045663722_c7208209be_c.jpg)


Some Mexican gold poppy and what I think was Havard's Nama (the purple flowers at the bottom).  That's Santa Elena Canyon in the background, through which the Rio Grande runs.

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/6/5633/29531441844_a7c2515569_c.jpg)


And of course, some prickly pear along Texas Highway 170.

(https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5344/29864292730_2aaf11ff5d_c.jpg)


Which leads me to Highway 170, a beautifully paved and empty road that takes you from Big Bend's SW entrance along the Rio Grande, in my case leading me to the Presidio/Ojinaga border crossing.  As you can see above, the road is twisty and smooth.  Here's another typical stretch:

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/9/8138/29531255653_d18d26f340_c.jpg)


Though barren, the few sites and small towns that populate 170 are a throwback to the bare life of the old west.  For example, here is the cemetery in Lajitas:

(https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5154/30045637762_45f7397fca_c.jpg)



Ok, so to sum up:  Visit Big Bend National Park.  Ride along Highway 170.  Live a full life.

After experiencing some of the best riding and scenery I ever had on two wheels, I ended up in Ojinaga, the bordertown across the river from Presidio, TX.  Getting my visa and aduana (temporary import) for my bike was easy and I was on my way in less than 30 minutes.  Ojinaga is a rather forgettable place, but a night in a hotel allowed me to get settled and plan my route for the next few days.

When I got up the following day, I decided to check my chain, which was installed new in Dallas.  After 600 miles of riding, it probably needed a tightening.  It did. But I also noticed this:

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/6/5719/29716909044_1bc5b439b7_c.jpg)

Actually, my first clue that something was wrong was when I saw that the fuel line from the petcock to the carb was disconnected.  I was baffled, but then I saw the indentations on both sides of the tank and it all came together.  At first I worried that someone had done something to my bike, but then I realized that it must have been the effect of the intense desert heat.  Note to other riders: don't buy black plastic tanks, and try to park in the shade when possible.

The odd this is that the tank was nearly full, so I was a bit confused why the indentations occurred.  Maybe it expanded during the afternoon and then over-contracted during the night...?  In any case, I was left with a dented tank that has spread so wide that I needed a new fuel line.  Lucky for me, an AutoZone was literally one block from my hotel.  New fuel line installed and chain adjusted & lubed and tire pressure set, and then I was off.

I took the old road to Chihuahua rather than the new toll road, per advice from ADVriders.  It was a bunch of twisties over and around desert mountains for the first hour or two.  Nice riding, but I realized how remote it was and given my bike problems in the morning it would have been nicer to take the more trafficked path in case something when wrong.  Oh well, luckily everything was fine.

After the mountains the desert becomes more lush and the roads straighten and pass through wide open valleys.

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/6/5832/30195714325_a319894739_c.jpg)


There are a lot of butterflies.  As I write this, a week-and-a-half and hundreds of miles later, I can't believe how many butterflies there are around the Mexican highways.  They paint my bike and helmet each day with yellows and oranges and greens and blacks that look like a Pollock painting.  Here is one that died in some other manner than a high speed impact.

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/6/5305/30081127422_a0ab216048_c.jpg)

I stopped in a town called Juan Aldama for lunch, but couldn't find any hotels and with a big storm chasing me I decided to book it to Chihuahua City, where I knew I'd find something.  As it turned out, there was an arts and culture festival that started the day I arrived, so most of my time was spent wandering the old city at night and seeing the street performers, listening to musicians, and engaging in general people watching.

The baroque gazebo in the central square:

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/6/5498/30081136332_b39c5395c4_c.jpg)


A man window shopping for boots.  The cowboy look is more common in Chihuahua even than Texas:

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/6/5603/29899866360_97ed041161_c.jpg)


The central cathedral in the old city.  Water spits out in colorful patterns in the open space in front of the church:

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/6/5264/29574852773_6b32c43c5a_c.jpg)

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/6/5648/29574860723_df7069129f_c.jpg)


The statue of the city's founder, Antonio Deza y Ulloa, stands opposite the cathedral like a conjurer calling forth the liquid light:

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/6/5258/29574857403_64634d2aa2_c.jpg)


Of course, what would the Chihuahua City, the capital of the state of Chihuahua, be without a giant mural of a Chihuahua:

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/9/8278/30050075220_0e73be668c_c.jpg)


A jazz series was performed in a nearby park on saturday, so I headed over there for the evening.  First group (pictured), a trio, was very good.  The second was a little too jazz fusion for my tastes.  When they started covering Jeff Beck, that's when I left to see what was going on back in the old city.

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5735/29574859233_bbf04f6a9f_c.jpg)


Quintas Gameros, the mansion of a wealthy family that is tied up with Mexican and regional history, is lit up like a haunted house at night.

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/9/8755/30119195001_0f9814a1ec_c.jpg)


Chihuahua city is populated with all manner of statues celebrating a diverse set of ideals: indigenous rights, fallen police, Aztec warriors, renowned writers, and of course, politicians.  There is an even a statue to emigrants that left their homeland and family in search of a dream (quien dejó patria y familia buscando un sueño").  This one is of writer José Fuentes Mares:

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/6/5079/30119195981_0ae6dd625c_c.jpg)


After two days in Chihuahua enjoying the culture fest, I headed out to Ciudad Cuauhtémoc.  Unfortunately, it was a sunday and so the city's most unique attribute, its large enclave of Mennonites, was inaccessible.  I did see some on and about the town, their blonde hair and blue eyes sticking out even more than me.  Dinner included a papa relleno with Mennonite cheese, something for which they are known.  It was delicious.

The church in Cuauhtémoc:

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/6/5526/29716722093_3d0f2e80fa_c.jpg)



Then off to the Barrancas...

Ok, so the Barrancas are a series of canyons throughout the Sierra Madres, basically the extension of the Rockies down into Mexico.  Copper Canyon is probably the most well-known barranca as it covers a larger area and is deeper at is maximum depth than the Grand Canyon.  The canyons are home to small towns separated by dozens of kilometers with nothing in between but rocky hillsides and pine forests.  This offers a great level of solitude to a rider, who can peg dance from switchback to sweeper to  chicane.  Though main roads are paved, they are usually in disrepair.  Often, the worst sections are right in the apex of the curve.  Nevertheless, the riding is world class.

A typical section will look like this:

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/6/5585/29969435760_3f2e89597c_c.jpg)


Or this:

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/8/7570/29679676174_9c974c1fcf_c.jpg)


Or even this:

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8132/30275124056_50c2764c29_c.jpg)


And the few flat and relatively straight sections offer a moment to relax and just take in the scenery:

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8552/30194407752_a294466518_c.jpg)


This was taken from an overlook at Barranca Sinforosa.  It requires a 12km (8mi) ride on an undeveloped dirt road, but it's 30km (20mi) if you, like me, take the wrong road at the fork and have to backtrack.  Took my first spill an this road, right in front of a group of school children.  Anyway, was worth it, given the view at the end.  Not too shabby:

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/8/7482/30275346886_bb59f3d2a3_c.jpg)


The area is a big logging region, so you get a fair share of large trucks that you need to ride around.  They rarely do more than 10-20 mph uphill, and frankly, that's okay since the few that do exceed that speed do so by another 30-40 mph, which is a little scary when you encounter one coming in the opposite direction around a blind corner.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8138/30311874696_52c4897988_c.jpg)

Thanks for sharing. Amazing.

No problem.  I got a bunch of pictures stored up and need to get them posted.  It's been over two weeks since I took those.  I'm already on the coast of central Mexico.  Anyway, more to come.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/6/5636/30231220696_513c9443a7_c.jpg)

Mexico's two tallest waterfalls are located in the Copper Canyon region: Piedra Volanda (453m) and Basaseachi Falls (246m).  Basaseachi is the more accessible of the two and (I believe) more developed in terms of access.  A paved footpath leads to the top of the falls, where a bridge crosses the river and allows access to the edge of the cliff, protected by metal bars.  Even still, gaps and the overall low bar level provided little sense of comfort or safety.  I bet the Mexican Parks Department did not have the same team of lawyers advising the US Parks Dept.  Anyway, on to the pics:

A rope bridge (technically, it's braided steel cables) along the path to the falls:

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/6/5443/30150457742_8283e48b52_c.jpg)


Here you can see the metal fencing that provides inadequate fall prevention:

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/9/8708/29635926283_63cdff244c_c.jpg)


The view looking out over the valley:

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/9/8547/29635958773_9f79baafb1_c.jpg)


Looking down the 246m (807ft) drop from the top of the falls:

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/9/8750/29969168660_0900c8cb92_c.jpg)


There is a 300m rocky trail of switchbacks down to the base, which few visitors took while I was there.  It was definitely worth it: at the bottom was an elysium of solitude protected by towering cliffs to the north and dense forests to the south.  Looking up at the falls on the trail down to the base:

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/8/7578/29636209613_7c13069b73_c.jpg)


Viewed from the distant overlooks positioned around the park, the falls appear peaceful and hypnotic, the water like spilled flour floating down the towering rock face.  Standing at the base near the edge of the collection pool is a wholly different experience: the noise is deafening, the winds a constant bluster.  The force of the impact is so strong that it atomizes the water into a thick mist that sweeps across the valley floor.

(https://c3.staticflickr.com/9/8597/29635346954_708e975c0c_c.jpg)


And a video that shows the power of the falls:

http://youtu.be/kZUStQpnKzw

Those last few shots remind me of the Garriwerd/Grampians national park, except for the trees being different ;D. Garriwerd is my favourite place to visit in my state. Its kind of semi-arid forest with a great sense of space, which is the feeling I get from your pics. Seeing this makes me want to modify my bucket list. Are their traditional indigenous custodians of this land?
Love your pics.

Nah, it's a Mexican National Park.

But plenty of traditional indigenous people around the area (the Tarahumara people), if you're looking for that experience.  Cuahtemoc is pretty interesting since is has a mix of Tarahumara people, Mennonites, and what in layman's terms would be "typical" mexicans, i.e. those with mixed roots of both indigenous people and Spanish colonists.  One small city, three diverse cultures.  Pretty cool when you see all three hanging out on the same park bench in the central plaza.

As for the arid comment, you are right.  The mountain range is ~2000m (5-6000k feet) but it is part of the Chihuahua desert.  So you get the aridity of the desert, but the coolness of the mountains.  Nice combo.  Kinda like Sante Fe, New Mexico, or at least how I imagine it since I've never been.

Not sure if you have the continuous mountain range to offset the aridness in your parts, but I know little about Oz beyond what the Simpsons taught me.  ;D


[EDIT: just looked up the Grampians.  Nice park!  Need to add it to my to-do list for when I make over there.]

Sounds a rich culture.

One last stop in the Barrancas was Batopilas, a must-see for all moto adventurists due to the spaghetti road leading down.  This is a derby from a few weeks ago on the post-a-pic thread, but here it is again for those that missed it:

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8556/29679730344_48ae8dec06_c.jpg)


Not only is it a constant series of switchbacks and blind corners, but there are things around those blind corners: landslides, cattle, herds of goats, construction vehicles, and so on.  Sometimes, the road was so damaged they just built an ad hoc route around the rubble.  So you really have to ride focused.  Downhill is a pregnant dog, especially with a small single front rotor and 250 lbs of man and panniers on the back.  Uphill, leaving town, was a lot more fun.  A typical patch of rubble lurking around a corner:

(https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5795/30510889402_3057d42126_c.jpg)


Batopilas is one of Mexico's Pueblos Magicos, a series of villages dubbed culturally important by the government.  All day long residents orbit the central plaza, speaking to neighbors and tourists with equal ease.  Its buildings, none more than three stories high, are painted every hue of unearthly color---neon pinks, toxic greens, celestial blues, candied yellows---as if to offset the drab umbers and ochres of the surrounding mountains.  Aging trees create a canopy over the village, providing plentiful shade in the heat trapped valley. 

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/6/5551/30194699152_76fb567a39_c.jpg)

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/6/5337/29679678093_166a731b93_c.jpg)

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8274/30194761512_a08acb06a4_c.jpg)

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8270/29679933344_8d8d965969_c.jpg)

The local hotel owners are well versed in the needs and pampering of motorcyclists, permitting them to lug their muddy machines through the delicate foyers and into the courtyards, the bulk and excess of those modern monstrosities standing in direct offense to a villa's old world charm.  But the owners take all this in good stride.  My bike in the courtyard of my hotel.  Can't get much better for $16/night:

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/9/8268/30275281636_245a31c648_c.jpg)

Very nice roads and hotel . . .

In Panama, your hotel might not have such a garden, but, might have 3 watch dogs, one cat . . . Have NO idea what the cost/night is . . .  ;D

The prices is many rounds of beer and food, I suspect.

Is the freedom to wander another country at your own pace what you expected it to be?

A little early to say, but the short answer is yes.  The hard part is resisting the urge to settle somewhere for a few months.  Money and visa limitations prevent that.  So I spend a little more time packing up and riding on than I'd like.  But these places aren't going anywhere, so if at the end I have time and money left, I can return and hang out.

Current favorite is Guanajuato.  Something magical about the place, but my experience is a little tinged since I am here during major celebrations and thus the city is overflowing with people and street musicians and food vendors and dance performances and costumes.  I'm weeks behind in posting pics, but will get try to catch up in a bit this weekend.

Spacers still doing fine!

[thumbsup]

May they help you transport many lonely señoritas

Thx f sharing! [thumbsup]

[laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

After the Barrancas, I headed to Hidalgo del Parral.  The landscape---still high desert---becomes softer and more lush.  The hills roll rather than jut out of the earth.  And all along the highway are endless rows of yellow wildflowers form a river of gold flowing next to you as you ride.

(https://c8.staticflickr.com/6/5477/30361841855_0a2cf3689c_c.jpg)

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/9/8411/30245127732_b3ac572724_c.jpg)

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/6/5636/29744684224_bd050ca9e0_c.jpg)


Parral is a city of a hundred thousand people spread across the serpentine Parral River: there are seven bridges that cross the river as it twists and winds its way through the city.  Like many cities in northern Mexico, Parral developed on a wealth on mineral deposits extracted under Spanish colonialism; in Parral's case, it was silver.

The city's other claim to fame is that is where Pancho Villa spent the later years of his life, after the revolution, and on the streets of Parral was where he was murdered in 1921.  Appropriately, they have a museum and an annual celebration on the anniversary of his death.  They are currently building a 30m high statue of him that sits in an abandoned warehouse while debate over its final location is settled.

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8280/30064627680_b324ff50ef_c.jpg)


Pancho's death mask:

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/6/5683/30379342020_b39ff5450a_c.jpg)


This city itself had a mix of colonial architecture and gothic churches that is common in nothern mexico.  Doors and window frames show a level of craftsman long forgotten in the modern world.  The metalwork with the churches is equally impressive.

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/9/8275/30064623660_68206e4017_c.jpg)

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/9/8410/29731290174_d178c6b2ff_c.jpg)

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/9/8673/29729997003_499cf29a1f_c.jpg)

Leaving Parral, I entered the state of Durango.  It, like Chihuahua, is high desert.  Think of the rockies but warmer and drier.  It's what I imagine the Sante Fe areas to be like, although I haven't been so can't confirm.  Anyway, along the way I stayed in a large town and a small city.  Really, the larger places look no different from many drive-by small cities in the US, where a mixture of old buildings and businesses blend with modern construction and chain stores.

(https://c8.staticflickr.com/6/5540/30679943215_fe30393ce8_c.jpg)

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8566/30258718432_48f29236b4_c.jpg)

(https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8641/29744608864_d2213aab16_c.jpg)


One difference, however, is the abundance of plazas.  Not just their presence, but their usage as well.  At night, whether on a weekend or not, locals fill the plazas with activity: teenage couples stealing away some privacy, small families enjoying ice cream together, elderly folk sitting on park benches and occasionally offering injecting wisdom or criticism. 

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5658/30679946065_261c0e9d2d_c.jpg)


Oh, and the region has a lot of honey bee activity.  So I bought the smallest size I could (1/2L) from this guy to give it a try.  I ate apples and honey for breakfast for the next few days and pretty much dipped any available food in my tupperware of honey until it was gone.

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/6/5779/30679942515_6e3e6f00eb_c.jpg)


For such a large state, Durango is largely empty.  It ranks 30th of Mexico's 31 states in terms of population density.  About half a million people live in the capital, also called Durango, which account for 1/3 of the total population of the state.  Anyway, the capital is another lively city that wears its history on its sleeve.  Colonial and baroque styles mix among taquerias, nieve shops, and fading buildings.

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/6/5453/30379919910_c1113943e8_c.jpg)

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/6/5455/30351145261_f608400b38_c.jpg)

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/6/5546/29806581084_658eaa2a43_c.jpg)

(https://c8.staticflickr.com/6/5603/30437789495_669f3f1ca3_c.jpg)


Oh, and it too had a museum dedicated to Pancho Villa, just like Parral.

(https://c8.staticflickr.com/6/5477/30592156231_9d4483964e_c.jpg)


I had breakfast in Durango with two ADV guys: one on an Americas trip like me, the other a local ex-pat who works in mining.  After breakfast, the local took me to an old mine on the outskirts of the city.  He explained how they built this huge oven to melt the iron and used primitive water-powered turbines to provide enough oxygen for the fire.  Cool and educational!

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/6/5469/30379918300_af47bac8cf_c.jpg)

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5758/30351148761_32635b80d3_c.jpg)


After two weeks in the high desert, it was time to hit the beach...

I am reading with serious envy!

Mark

Wished I had an enduro bike to be able to ride with you from the border and around . .. will send you map with places to visit . . .

All you need are a set of knobbies and you can turn the most sporty bike into a "synthetic enduro".  ;D

Hyper 796 with CCW tank and dual sport tyres ;).

Appreciate this thread, it's inciting wanderlust. What a beautiful part of the world.

Yeah, Australia is an attractive place to me (though not yet been), but the lack of attachment to other lands is a real minus.  Something nice about being able to simply ride to all the terrain and cultures that the Americas have.

I might/could be able to procure a 250efi adv bike . . . Dunno yet

Raining here, so I'm getting a chance to go through pics and play a little catch-up.

The recently completed toll road from Durango to Mazatlan offers nice views and a very beautiful modern bridge, called the Baluarte Bridge.  (Click here for a pic and description.) (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baluarte_Bridge)  You don't want to take this.  You want to take the free road, the old road.  It is called La Espinoza del Diabolo, the Spine of the Devil, and with good reason.  For 300km (200mi) it snakes around the Sierra Madres, dropping 2000m (6000ft) near the coast to reach sea level.

(https://c5.staticflickr.com/6/5713/30066636764_342ddc9456_c.jpg)


This is typical road movement:

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5662/30064429273_f0ff506cb0_c.jpg)


These are the typical views:

(https://c4.staticflickr.com/6/5448/30064427163_61b6016d51_c.jpg)

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5665/30064425753_3737fe5949_c.jpg)


The road is cut out of rock in a lot of places, leaving colorful rock faces:

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5462/30064422273_eeaf5e226f_c.jpg)


Riding along, you cross the Tropic of Cancer:

(https://c6.staticflickr.com/6/5683/30064424933_bbdd42dd4d_c.jpg)


The drop-offs can be nasty.  Here is a memorial to presumably someone that drove off:

(https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5603/30066640994_07b058f851_c.jpg)


There are sections that, I can say without hyperbole, were a solid 5+ minutes of riding through chicanes and hairpins without a single straight line.  It can be exhausting.  Add to that the fact that large sections of the rode have lengthwise striations that make the bike wobbly, and you can see why I didn't break any speed records.

Once you cross over into the state of Sinaloa the pine forests turn into humid jungle and the heat rises as you descend.  By the time you reach the coast, you wonder why you left the highlands.  But the ride was worth it!

The Espinoza del Diablo brings you to sea level and into Mazatlan, a beach town of roughly half a million that's main attraction is that it is where the ferry to Cabo arrives.  The stretch along the beach is built up to attract gringos and vacationing Mexicans, complete with oversized margaritas and chain restaurants.  Not my thing so I heading south to San Blas.


San Blas is a sleepy beach town with a long and deep playa that makes for picturesque but brutal sunsets, as the san fleas are relentless at dusk.  The thing to do is snap your photo and then go find some tacos or cheves inland to avoid the little buggers.  Without exaggeration, in 20 minutes near the beach I received probably 4 dozen bites on my ankles and knees that would itch for days.

(https://c7.staticflickr.com/6/5630/30162125510_dc1a5bc81c_c.jpg)


The town is old and underdeveloped, but not impoverished.  A new and pristine church stands next to the old one in the center square.  I prefer the old one.  Likewise, most buildings in town showed the effect of salt air and occasional flooding that provided a colorful patina to their exteriors.  In a small park next to the beach was a decapitated commercial airliner.  I couldn't get a clear answer as to how and why it was there, but one lady told me that it is supposed to be converted into a kind of library or bookstore, complete with tables and chairs and serving coffee and tea.  Cool idea, but I'll believe it when I see it.

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5597/29884319953_5ecf9a1310_c.jpg)


(https://c3.staticflickr.com/6/5758/30218539650_2e8cc63532_c.jpg)


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(https://c5.staticflickr.com/6/5826/30479395900_58319770d5_c.jpg)


I decided to camp instead of finding a hotel, as athere was pristine RV park near the beach.  There I met an electrician from Minnesota that retired there a decade or so ago.  Nice guy.  No other guests so I had the pick of spots.  From the looks of the place, you'd think it was a minor eden in the quiet solitude of a Mexican beach town.  Well, not exactly...

(https://c8.staticflickr.com/6/5508/30780387335_277c474503_c.jpg)

(https://c2.staticflickr.com/6/5649/30780384065_7cf64a11d0_c.jpg)



Travel Tip #823: How to Remove a Colony of Ants from Your Shoei Hornet DS Helmet

If you are roused in the middle of the night by the loud thump of a falling coconut, you may reconsider your decision to park your bike under a palm tree.  This is a natural reaction: falling coconuts can crack a human skull; no doubt they can split open a plastic gas tank or sever a clutch lever or other vital bike part.  At dawn, when you wake you may uncover your bike in preparation to roll it into a coconut-free zone and in doing so discover that a colony of ants has taken up residence in your helmet.  You’ll no doubt begin swiping away at the superorganism without any thought as if they are the biting kind of ants.   You then will realize that the dozens of ants you’ve already swept away are now crawling on your arms and ankles, and you haven’t felt a sting, so you can be confident they aren’t aggressive.  Good.  At this point you will want to learn the word "myrmecophobia"; you'll be needing it from now on.  Now, while you contemplate how to end this nightmarish vision of a hundred crawly things circling in and out of every hole on an effigy of your head, explore the following options:


1) Buy a pack of cigarettes. Smoke a half dozen over the course of the day, strategically exhaling each mouthful of CO2 into the helmet’s ventilation holes, smoking the little buggers out.  This method has the upside that, with over a dozen of unlit cigarettes remaining in your possession, you can share with locals and build street cred.  The downside is that smoking a half dozen cigarettes on a hot and humid day is nauseating.

2) Submerge the helmet in a pool of water. The difficulty here is finding a pool of relatively benign water. You may be 50m from all the water the Pacific has to offer, but the residual scent of a Delaware marina in immediate proximity to your nostrils will deter this instinct. The spigots at the campground could provide a cleaner, albeit imperfect option, but you are still left with the task of finding a bucket large enough that you can fully submerge the helmet.

3) Purchase a good quantity of rubbing alcohol and pour it into the various ventilations holes of the helmet.  Ignore the pharmacist's expression when you ask to buy all the bottles they have for sale.  This method has the advantage of disinfecting the helmet, not only the ant carcasses but also the sweaty funk accumulated from months of riding in hot weather.  However, the pouring technique allows the little buggers to run around and avoid whatever path your murder juice is flowing down.  They didn't survive the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event 65 million years ago for nothing.


If all of these options are available to you, the following combination will likely work best.  Use the spigot to pour water into the helmet holes and swirl it around.  About 5-6 ants will come out of their hiding spots.  Flick them off and continue swirling.  Repeat throughout the helmet until there are no signs of life.  Let dry.  Once dry, pour a bottle of rubbing alcohol through the various holes.  Swirl.  Watch 3-4 stumble out intoxicated.  Flick them off.  Continue swirling.  Let dry.  Repeat the above again with water, then alcohol, until no evidence of life exists.

Congratulations, you have just completed an act of mass insecticide.  Now you are only left to deal with the crippling fear of a host of those buggers coming out of the deep corners of your helmet while you ride down a narrow jungle highway at 70 mph.  Safe travels!

Having fun? ;D ;)

It was like a Wes Craven scene. They were pouring out by the hundreds. Big suckers, too, not those little ones.

After the ant incident, I headed to Sayulita, a beautiful beach town about an hour south of San Blas.  It is a quintessential surf town, with a mix of hippies, surfers, transients, locals, foreigners, backpackers, artists, musicians, and retirees.  The town center is a tight group of about a dozen or so streets filled with bars, restaurants, and artisan shops.  The beach butts up against village and everything is within a 5 minute walk.

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Wildlife is a as abundant as dreadlocks and tattoos are in Sayulita.  There is a sanctuary for sea turtles and every weekend they release dozens of newly hatched into the ocean after sunset.  Only about 1 in 20,000 will survive until adulthood, but those that do return from all over the planet to this very beach in order to lay their eggs.  Watching them crawl helplessly through the coarse sand with those oversized fore flippers was a hoot.  Waves would come in and wash a half dozen away in one sweep, their delicate bodies tumbling in the surf like rag dolls in a washing machine:

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There is a tree in Sayulita called the iguana tree for reasons that self evident.  The iguanas as so used to human presence that they will crawl right down and grab a banana from you if you have one to offer.  Unfortunately, no pics.  But I did see this beautiful blue heron flying over the shore at dusk.  During the days herons stand in the shallow surf and fish for their meals.  They are used to humans and so you can get pretty close before they scurry away.  They really are elegant.

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Oh, and for the record no ants surprised me on my ride there, so the alcohol worked.  [thumbsup]  [Dolph]

After four days at the beach it was time to head inland.  My only set plan on this trip are to make it to Guanajuato for Dia de Muertos so I had to head east to stay on schedule.  Tequila was my first stop: a another beautiful colonial town, but in this case there's a large industry related to the delicious derivatives of the blue agave plant.  There are dozens of distilleries in the area, many in the city itself and each with tours.  Tequila tastings are offered by various stops and bars around the main square.  With the exception of the large tequila buses (some of which are shaped like bottles), Tequila really doesn't have a tacky fell in spite of its libation-centric focus.  It feels like any other small colonial Mexican town.  There is a nice waterfall accessible via a 20-minute hike past the north edge of town.  Though the view of the falls were not great the day I was there (and unfortunately, the water had a toxic odor), the hike was filled with a swarm of butterflies of every color fluttering in the grass and mud.  The views of the agave fields, with their glacous hue, set against the patches of gold wildflower, was something to behold.


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Public Service Announcement: How Tequila Is Made
15 minutes SW of Tequila is the Herradura factory, which offers an excellent tour.  For those that are curious or just love tequila, here are the highlights:

- There are over 200 types of agave plants.  Tequila is only made from blue agave.  Mezcal is made from varies other agaves.

- Tequila must be bottled in the plant where it was made.  Not all plants are in tequila, but only certain regions (kinda like counties) are designated places where tequila can be made and officially called "tequila".

- A bottle that says 100% tequila may have a mix of agave and other sugars (even corn syrup).  But a bottle that says "100% agave" or "100% blue agave" or even "100% pure agave" is made entirely from the agave plant.  This is the good stuff.  To avoid the cheap stuff make sure your bottles say 100% agave.

- It takes ~8 years for a plant to mature, so if an deep frost or other natural disaster comes and kills the plants, it creates a plant shortage that will take up to 8 years to rebound.  This happened in the nineties and lead to an industry wide tequila shortage and price spike.  Herradura now keeps a factory full of undistilled tequila to protect against this.

- The agave plant has a pineapple at its core.  A worker takes something similar to a spade and jabs off the leaves to expose the pineapple.  The verb for this is "jimar", and so the person that does it is called a "jimador".  This is where the brand name Jimador comes from.

- The pineapples are then cooked in brick and clay ovens, which releases both a honey and a juice.  The honey is collected and will eventually be the agave syrup you can buy in supermarkets.  The juice is used to make tequila.

- To me, the fermentation part of the tour was the most interesting part: modern technologies allow 1 day of fermentation, but Herradura needs 3 days because it uses "open fermentation".  This means that they don't actively introduce yeast into the juice.  Rather, the vats are in a covered building with open walls so that air from the outside can freely pass through.  The air carries natural yeast form the environment.  After years of research and experimentation, Herradura has settled on a variety of tree species that are planted outside the building, including guava, papaya, various citrus trees, and others.  The yeast from these trees is carried by the air into the building and enter the vats where they perform fermentation.  The yeast brings the subtle flavors from the fruit trees into the tequila.

- After fermentation, the alcohol is distilled.  Once distilled it is tequila; blanco is your basic tequila and is not aged.  However, aged tequila is now very popular.  Interesting fact: tequila was not aged until the 1960s, so the old school Mexicans tend to prefer old school tequila, i.e. blanco.  In the 1960s a few producers started aging in oak barrels to get anejo.  In the 1970s, Herradura was the first company to slightly age tequila to get reposado.  Now that the company is owned by Jack Daniels, it uses old Jack Daniels barrels for its aging.

- By law, tequila must be between 35% and 55% alcohol.  Outside that range it can't be called tequila.  Convention is: reposado is aged 2-12 months; anejo is aged 1-3 years.  Herradura actually ages it blanco for 45 days and calls it "plata".  I normally prefer reposado tequilas, but I likes their plata the best of their three main styles.

- One final note: they have been making tequila on the property for 125 years and although the building is state of the art (including a biomass boiler), the original production facility is preserved as a sort of museum.  In the 1920s, Mexican communists were on an anti-catholic witch hunt.  The factory had a tunnel that allowed catholics to hide from authorities.  The last picture below is of the staircase that leads down to that tunnel.  The family flooded the chamber at the bottom with water so as to trick authorities, saying that it was an old source of water for production that is no longer in use.  But past the small water chamber was a 1km dry tunnel that lead out past the house and provided safety for catholics.

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Thanks for that. Educational! [shot]

From Tequila I headed east to reach Guanajuato and San Miguel Allende for the Day of the Dead celebrations.  On route, though, I had to stop in Guadalajara for some new shoes (or rather, a new rear shoe) and then Leon just to break of the travel time.  As a side note, the Suzuki dealer in Guadalajara is the first and only dealer I've been to that has given me good service.  In fact, excellent service.   [thumbsup]

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Guadalajara is the third largest city in Mexico but really doesn't look all that nice (Leon was nicer).  Some museums and old churches, and an absolutely huge market that sold everything from cowboy saddles to vintage Nintendo games, but really not a place I planned to stay long.   I did, however, have one goal: see some lucha libre...


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LUCHA LIBRE IN GUADALAJARA

The first thing you need to know is that getting seats in the front rows is a mistake.  The real action is behind you.  I was saved from this error by my local host, who made sure we get the cheap seats because Tuesday night Lucha Libre matches at Guadalajara's Arena Coliseo are not about wrestling.  They are an absurd and calamitous burlesque and nothing is sacred.


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The wrestling is fake of course, a form of performance fighting where violence is mimed and the spectacle of tasseled musclemen and top rope flips is all just misdirection.  Power slams are followed by extensive and elaborate peacocking, wherein the victim can recover and the cycle repeat itself.  It is showmanship as a form of sport that any fan of pro wrestling north of the border will recognize.

But unlike American wrestling, the farce extends beyond the ring and out into the stands, where the Republic’s four centuries of class conflict is played out by a willing audience.  There are two levels of tickets: upper or lower section, the price difference a de minimis 40 pesos (roughly $2 USD).  Ticket choice is driven less by pecuniary concerns than by personal identification: the upper section takes on the anima of the poor, the urban, the proletariat; the lower is for the rich, the güeros, the ruling class.  These roles, whether fitting or not, are embraced by the fans, who've gone so far as to have shirts made proudly claiming their abject status:


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During ingress, the upper section crowds around above the entrance hall and taunt the men and women entering beneath.  No one is spared and no gibe too crude.  The presence of children does nothing to soften the language.  This is where, with the help of locals, you can learn that donut is slang for vagina, that chingar is a Mexican colloquialism for “make the beast with two backs”, and that no insult has any worth unless it is spiced up with a puta or two.  As the matches begin, the upper and lower sections go at each other with vulgar chants and ruthless insults, the action in the ring a mere set piece, like a tv left on at a bar.  Calls of Putos los de abajo! (The ones below are whores!) are met with Putas los pobres! (The poor are whores!).  Individual shouts of Chingas a su madre! fill the time between chants.  But just as in the ring, it is all farce, a parity of anger absent of any aggression or resentment.  A particularly foul comment is met with a chuckle or, if landing on a skilled target, a quick repartee.  Smiles and laughter abound on both sides of the chainlink fence.


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Even Mexico’s machismo culture is mocked relentlessly.   Female wrestlers are called out to show their dicks.  Men standing too close to each other are harangued to make out.  One of the night’s headliner, Maximo Sexy, sports a neon pink mohawk, a miniskirt draped over his singlet, a sequined shirt saying KISS ME, and gold lame shoes.  He is femininity, his opponents then fighting to prove their masculinity.  When victorious, Maximo appeals to the crowd who then chant “Be-so! Be-so!” at which point he attempts to lay a kiss on his dazed victim who melees desperately to avoid emasculation.  This plays out to the delight of the audience, who seem unconcerned that the wrestling has since transformed into a Satyr play.  And when he eventually subdues his victim and lays a long wet one on him, the crowd erupts.


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Amid all this nihilism there are moments of real tenderness, too.  An aging and portly wrestler named Blue Panther, his body showing the wear of nearly four decades in the sport, receives the warmest welcome and the most heartfelt support when he almost defeats the current belt holder, a chiseled upstart draped in tattoos and long black hair named Dragon Rojo.  Both los pobres and los de abajo cheer passionately for him and seem genuinely invested in his victory, booing fiercely in unison when Dragon pulls a late reversal that pins the Panther.  They then throw coins at the ring in disgust at the apparent fix.  Nothing is sacred.


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Your writing and photos are excellent!

Have you considered turning this into a book when it's all said and done?

If not, you might want to.

Hadn't thought of that, K, but thanks for the compliment.  Right now I'm just trying to make it to patagonia in one piece, then I'll figure out what to do.  I've had trouble finding secure parking here in Guanajuato and so I've chained the bike to a post outside my apartment and put on a cover.  Today I awoke to find the cover lifted a bit and so now I'm paranoid something was taken or will be taken.  Need to try again to bribe a parking guard to let me use the lot (they say bikes aren't permitted for a reason that is secret even from lot employees apparently).  One more week here (I paused to take some spanish classes) and them I'm off, assuming the bike hasn't been stolen or stripped of parts.

Yikes.

Wishing you continued good luck.

+1.
I hear the Patagonian Tooth Fish is delicious.

Don't worry . . . It could get worse until you get to Panama . . . For Guatemala, I will send you info for a DMFer in Guatemala City

I concur that this would make a great coffee table book. Great photos and writing. Your kind of flowery without being over my head.  Safe travels!

Thanks.  And yeah, I can get a little carried away at times in my descriptions.  ;)

Ok, so my next stops were Guanajuato and San Miguel de Allende, two old and colorful cities about and 80 minutes apart.  I was hoping to experience their respective Day of the Dead celebrations, but the cities are both so beautiful they deserve a separate post.

Guanajuato sits in a valley surround by hills covered with houses and structures of every color.   The streets curve and twist around (and sometimes tunneling through) the hills, inviting you to wander aimlessly around the center where small plazas and churches appear around unexpected corners. 


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The city has a very artsy feel, partly due to the large student population of the local university, but also due to a former resident and patron that started an annual celebration of Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes of Don Quixote fame.  Every October, Guanajuato is host to a multitude of events related to Cervantes, including plays, concerts, lectures, and art shows.  Unsurprisingly, the city is full of tributes to the author and his titular character.  Here's a statue below a mural in the Museum of Iconography of Don Quixote:

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And here a statue of the "Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance" and his squire:

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Music really pops up everywhere.  Sometimes the local orchestra is playing in a gazebo in the center of Jardin Union, sometimes its a guitarist playing in an restaurant with his speakers spilling out into the plaza.  But the most popular and unique tradition are the men and women who dress up in 16th Century attire and lead crowds of revelers through the streets playing music on guitars and madolins.  The crowds sing along and, for those that pay a fee, libations are provided.  These go on year round, giving life to the city even in its off-season.


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San Miguel de Allende is just as beautiful and, like Guanajuato, is full of colorful homes built on the hills.  What's interesting is that every one seems to have a door that is completely unique, like the craftsman threw out the design after completion and started fresh for his next patron.  SMA is more polished and refined, and has become an ex-pat destination (15% of the population are foreigners).  Things are noticeably more expensive in SMA as a result, and many of the bars and restaurants in the center would fit in easily in Brooklyn or Seattle or Monterey Bay.


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The second night I was there there was a major lightning storm around the region.  I sat on the terrace of a pizza place and just watched the show while dining.  It was sublime.

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So the only festival that I had specifically identified as a must see for the whole of Latin America was Mexico's Day of the Dead.  For the uninitiated, Day of the Dead has its roots in Aztec rituals and veneration of the dead.  The Spanish imperialists tried to stamp of the tradition but failed; the best they could do was to merge it with Catholic All Saint's Day.  It's celebrated Nov.1-2, although for many cities the events begin a week before and lead up to the actual holiday.

The costumes of Dia de Muertos are a continual delight, each face a unique and personal interpretation of José Guadalupe Posada's original catrina (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Calavera_Catrina).


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Meanwhile, the storefronts and residences add to the atmosphere with their own peculiar decorations.  Venders sell candies made of hardened sugar colorfully decorated in the shape of skulls, mariachis, animals, and toys.  References to the dead appear in colorful iterations in every street corner and window sill.  The cities are rich with skulls and marigolds.


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The centerpieces of Dia de Muertos are the ofrendas: decorative altars composed of ancestral photographs, flowers, candles, food, drink, incense, memorabilia, and other offerings to the departed.  The most spectacular ofrendas are constructed near central plazas, with images crafted from a kaleidoscope of flowers, seeds, rice, salt, wood shavings, leaves, charcoal, and other natural pigments.  Belief that bright colors and floral aromas help guide the spirits of the dead to these altars leads to a friendly one-upmanship with each display trying to outshine its neighbors.  Fittingly for a holiday that celebrates the inevitable, before the day ends these molecular creations are swept up by public works employees, their order and beauty lost to the colorless mix of the dustpan.


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The local festivals openly embrace Mexican folklore, an important part of which is expressed through regional folk dances.  Understandably, there are a lot dance performances throughout the week.  Costumed in provincial attire but unified by the ubiquitous catrina makeup, these dances take on a supernatural aura.


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I would not consider myself a fan of dance performances---I feel asleep during the only ballet performance I ever attended---but the dances put on as part of the festivals in Guanajuato and San Miguel Allende were so striking that they became the highlight of the holiday for me.  Here are clips of my favorites:


LA DANZA DEL TORITO
On a stage in front of the Basilica Nuestra Señora, a Guanajuatan folk dance called the Dance of the Bull is performed to an audience overflowing the Plaza de La Paz.  The dance tells the story of a bull breaking free from its enclosure.  A host of archetypes unsuccessfully try to ring it in one at a time: a landlord, a cowboy, the landlord's daughter, a drunken servant, a dandy, an old religious man, Satan himself, and finally Death.  Farce ensues, with the dandy and the cowboy fighting over the daughter, satan and the old man taunting each other, the drunk stumbling into the others, and everyone trying to evade Death.  In the end, Death takes each life one by one, and even the slippery bull is unable to escape the inevitable:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4b2ji5StJk


FLAMENCO
In Guanajuano, where streets wind and curve around the mountainous terrain, music calls out from narrow alleys and hidden plazas.  Following your ears leads to strange and wondrous surprises as you stumble into events, both staged and impromptu, that cry from another world.  In Plaza de Allende, a flamenco is performed in full skeletal costume, adding a Mexican touch to what is a traditional Spanish dance:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQYLTBE1Ajo


LA BRUJA
In San Miguel de Allende, a half-dozen regional dances are performed by members of a local dance school as part of the city's weeklong La Calaca festival.  One of the most captivating is a beautiful and haunting dance from Veracruz called La Bruja ("The Witch").  The steady clicking of the clogs are like the ticks of a clock marching towards the inevitable, the expressionless faces of those young girls made up like skulls echoing the indifference of time.  And yet, the synchronicity of their movements, deliberate and precise, and their white gowns lit up magnificently in the darkness create a ghostly beauty that is hypnotizing:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oA8LE_iZCVs


ZAPATEADO
Another dance from Veracruz is the spiritual opposite of La Bruja: fast, lively, and frenetic.  In the Zapateado, men and women perform a rapid tap that has the energy and speed of a troop of horses galloping on the open plains.  The ability of the dancers to start on the instant is inhuman; the woman here appear as animated dolls that come fully alive as if by the flip of a switch:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1x9RcRhuOS8



BURLESQUE
But not all dances are polished.  Impromptu performances pop up in the streets and lowbrow charades spill out into the plazas.  Here, in León, a cast of ghouls pour forth from a doorway to the sound of a country fiddle, flopping clumsily to the rhythm, their lack of coordination emphasizing their burlesque:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NxxxOlRPhcE




Though death is the face of the festival, it is a lively and humorous celebration of life at its heart.  If you haven't experienced Dia de Muertos in Mexico, I recommend you add it to your travel list.  [thumbsup]

Seems a lot better than our Halloween. 

Yeah.  I've learned that all holidays in the USA sooner or later devolve into reasons to get drunk and Halloween is no exception, at least at the adult level.  [shot]

Here, the grain and the grape are secondary considerations during the festivities.  More family friendly then, say, bars in the Village or West Hollywood on Oct 31.

You gotta send your resume to Lonely Planet. Seriously.

Can I preorder the book?   :D

He's pretty bloody good.

I just learned no one gets out alive. ;D

That festival is bloody ominous. ;D

Oops.  I guess I'll keep what I know about Santa Claus to myself.

;D

If you get  here for Carnavales . . . is 4 days of  drunkness

Sounds like DIMBY plus a day. ;D

Only if it rains torrentially at least one of the days ;D

I'd prefer that it didn't have DIMBY's 8:1 guy-to-girl ratio.   ;D

[laugh]

NO rain, it is in the DRY season . ..
Nah, something like 25:1[girls:guys] . . . but, drunk beyond any sense

Next stop was Real de Catorce, another Pueblo Magico.  Located in the high desert mountains of north San Luis Potosi, it sits around 2800m (9000ft).  Real grew out of the discovery of silver in 1772 but now, with the mine long abandoned, it's highly dependent on tourism, a clandestine portion of which are drug tourist looking for the region's famous peyote cactus that grows wild in the surrounding desert.


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There are only two ways in and out of the Real.  From the west via a mountain road, the last 4 miles of which was some of the toughest riding I've ever encountered.  Time and neglect have upended the cobble stone road into a stretch of loose rock and dirt about as wide as a modern pickup.  The difficulty in riding has less to do with the terrible and inconsistent road surface and more to do with the steep pitch in certain sections, with I would guess reaches 25* at times.  On those stretches you cannot cut the throttle or the bike goes down.  Sadly, I've no photos of this cajones test since any consideration of stopping to snap a pic was crowded out of my mind by the sheer terror and a internal chant, "Focus, 1.21GW, focus."

The east access road is a 2-mile one-way tunnel directly through the mountain that opens up into 17 miles of back beating cobble stones, more intact and much safer than the west road but going on seeming forever.  Below is the view coming out of the tunnel as well as of the road surface.  In the first two pictures you can see white clouds below in the distance, which eventually must be descended through as you ride down to near sea level.


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The main attraction of Real de Catorce is the abandoned silver mine.  For 200MXN (~$10) a guide took me up via horseback.  Pedro was born and raised in Real, and his father worked the mine before it was shut down.  Before we left town it became obvious that my shaggy mount had reached the end of his cup of tolerance in life and was passive aggressively cutting corners and walking so close to parked cars so as to clip my knees against the walls and sideview mirrors.  On the trail up, he walked so dangerously close to the edge of the cliff that I could feel him shuffling to keep balanced.  Standard reins commands were ignored.  Halfway up, our horse panting profusely and slowing to a snail's pace, my local guide said "Amigo, estos caballos son buenos, no?".  I think mine was suicidal.  Nevertheless, I'm sure my horse was happy to have me off his back for the 30 minutes we spent exploring the mine ruins.


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Gracias, Pedro.  Now go give those horses a day off!

Next stop was Ciudad Valles, the geographical antonym of Real and most of the mountainous desert towns wherein I had spent the last few weeks.  Valles is tropical, near sea level, and hot most of the year, posting temperatures above 40C (104F) and even 50C (122F) during the summer.   The hills and fields explode with plant life, and sugar cane is the area's largest economic output.  Distance smoke from cane fires is a common sight, while double- and sometimes even quadruple-length tractor trailers full of freshly cut cane slow traffic on single lane highways to a near standstill.


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The region hosts numerous outdoor and adventure attractions, including kayaking, hiking, and rappelling.  Many of the rivers are a rich turquoise due to high levels of travertine, a type of limestone.  I signed up for a tour of waterfalls with a local adventure group.  It was great to spend the day in cool clear waters away from the traffic and the bumps and the noise of moto life.  My back was especially grateful for a recovery day.

Cascada Mico (10m):

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Cascada Minas Viejas (50m):

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Cascada Mecos (35m):

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That place looks amazing!

I was gonna say...

doesn't look like that sucks. ;D

Always such the optimist.  ;D

What can I say?

I stole that from a guy at Grattan last summer. He kept saying...

'This doesn't suck'. :P

Mico=Monkey

Good morning  [coffee]

Is this TOSAT now? [laugh]

That would be TUSAT.

OOPS  :-[

Good morning anyway.

Ok, so the big attraction in the Huasteca region (where all the blue waters above are found) is Las Pozas.  I had seen pictures and was intrigued but not "wowed", so I put it as a maybe.  Well, in person it proved to be well worth the detour.


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A little background: Las Pozas is the creation of British poet Edward James, a devoted fan and patron of Surrealism who once sponsored Dalí and modeled for two Magritte paintings.  In the 1940s, he acquired a coffee plantation near the mountain town of Xilitla where he could pursue his interest in orchid cultivation.  After a rare frost wiped out most of his flowers in 1962, James began constructing small surrealist structures out of concrete that would, over the course of twenty years, become his surrealist's playground.

The only way to experience Las Pozas is to simply wander through it without purpose, like a stream of consciousness.  The park is set up with no recommended route, no series of numbered galleries to follow: is it a creation as open and expansive as thought itself.   Paths begin and end in nothingness, or loop back on themselves like Möbius strips.  Inchoate forms suggest familiar objects---an airplane, a birdcage, a spinal column---while doubling as structural elements.  Stairs sometimes serve as support columns and columns act as stairs.  Nothing exists within a border and each form is many.

There is a lack of protection that can be unsettling to those of us used to having our safety micromanaged with waivers, warnings, and guard rails.  Here neither rope nor rail prevent you from falling off a four-story concrete structure.  However, there is reason behind this madness: the lack of restraint allows you to openly explore the site, walking seamlessly from stair to arch top to column in a sort of free association method of exploration.


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Oh, and the lack of restrictions carries over to the waterfalls and collection pools ("pozas").  I couldn't resist and undressed all but my shorts to take a dip.  It was sur-really refreshing.  [groan]


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Man, I don't think I have the right words to react to these pictures.

My mind is blown.

For the first time I'm wishing I scrapped it all and tagged along.

Stepping off the wheel Kev?

That would be...complicated without planning. ;D

To say the least.

We all can live vicariously through 1.21GW. [thumbsup]

You noticed that too?

;D

[thumbsup]

And I haven't even gotten halfway through Mexico yet.  I have the spacers to make my passenger pegs work, so you could have ridden in the back.  We'd be going about 25 mph in 5th, though, and I'm not sure I could handle your goatee tickling my neck.   ;D




I know one DMFer who would have trouble enjoying himself...look what I saw while waiting to climb up the Temple of the Sun in Teotihuacan:


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We can honestly say that we helped him on his journey.

It was fun watching/guiding/helping him install tires for the first time. ;D

Didn't you get the email?  You'll all be getting a bill when this is all over.   ;D

The check is in the mail...= the chase is on. :-*

[laugh] [laugh]


True!

Group - "put more lube on it so you can really get in deep"

ML - "that's what she said"

Laughing.

Drinking.

More laughing

:D

Sorry, just catching up on this thread, but I have to wonder what effect several bottles of rubbing alcohol will have on the crash worthiness of the EPS...  :-\

Oh shit. I never thought of that.

Or the effect of the fumes on the rider :D
"Sir, you are over the limit". ;D

Geez.  Were you that kid that volunteered to be a hall monitor?   ;D




Luckily I don't plan to crash on this trip so it shouldn't be a problem.  ;)

Hey man, just looking out for you. And hell, maybe you were looking for an excuse to buy a new helmet!  [thumbsup]

[beer] [laugh]

If you only knew.

 [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

I'm no chem expert, but I believe polystyrene is not affected by isopropyl alcohol or ethanol.  Gasoline or acetone?  You betcha!

According to this:
http://benchmarkfoam.com/eps-technical/chemical-compatibility/ (http://benchmarkfoam.com/eps-technical/chemical-compatibility/)
Limited Compatibility
"Noticable effect, but not necessarily indicating a lack of
serviceability or useful life. Further testing is recommended
in the specific application."

So, no excuse to buy a new helmet.


Hey! What the hell is that supposed to mean!?  [laugh]

New helmet would be nice now that you mention it...

From Xilitla I headed to Bernal along 120, a windy mountain road that starts in the cold foggy jungle and ends in a clear dry desert.


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Bernal is known for the 430m monolith that towers over the town.  Nightlife there was oddly quiet for a Friday, so I took the chance to practice night photography.  I’m getting better, but have a ways to go.  My goal is to get one good Milky Way shot before this is all over.


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I then headed southwest to the Reserva Biosfera de Mariposas Monarcas, the winter home of nearly all the monarch butterflies from the eastern United States and Canada (the ones in the west winter in parts of the SW United States).   These creatures fly thousands of miles  every fall to this same section of forest, a trip that spans four generations.  It’s like the Oregon Trail but for insects.

The reserve has two sections open to the public.  I went to Rosario, about 25 minutes outside of Angangueo along a cobble stone and dirt road.  To get to the part where the monarchs reside requires a strenuous thirty-minute uphill hike that is made worse by the altitude (~3000m).   Along the trail, monarchs begin to appear above, at first in the dozens, and then by swarms in the hundreds by the time you reach their wintering site.  There, tree limbs bend and sag under the weight of clusters numbering in the thousands, their orange and black wings blending with the green pines to make what appears to be a brown bulbous growth, as if the trees were hatching something from a Ridley Scott film.   The clusters help them stay warm in the cool air, and those that leave them must flutter constantly to keep from freezing.  As a result, the forest floor is littered with the bodies of those that could not keep up their body heat.


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Next, I went just outside of Mexico City to the largest pre-Hispanic site in Mexico, Teotihuacan. It is simply huge.  Its central Avenue of the Dead cuts through nearly 2km of what were once thriving residences and temples and markets, ending at the impressive Pyramid of the Moon, a 43m-high structure that rises up from the horizon as you walk down the main thoroughfare.  But it is its twin tower, the 71m-high Pyramid of the Sun, that dominates the landscape.  The line to climb it is well worth the wait, not only for its spectacular views of what was once the largest city in Mesoamerica, but for the opportunity to role play as an ancient Teotihuacano. Upon reaching the top, visitors throw their hands up toward the sun as if possessed by the spirit of some high priest giving featly to the gods.  The more intoxicating experience is to look down on the Sunday crowds gathered around the base of the structure and channel the rush of power an emperor must have felt high above a hundred thousand cheering subjects.


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After Teotihuacan I rolled through Veracruz pretty quickly on my way to Oaxaca. The highlight in Veracruz for me was a small river town near the coast called Tlacotalpan. Fishing boats, colorful houses, fresh seafood, a steady coastal breeze, and an overall laid back feel were the defining characteristics of this pueblo. I learned too late that there are witches there, the kind that read you fortune through strands of hair and stuff like that. I would have liked to hear my future.


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In Tlacotalpan there was a sad little collection of animals in the home of a late resident who had a thing for exotic creatures. Four crocodiles, a cage full of caracaras and one eagle, three pelicans, and a host of turtles of all species made up the entirety of the zoo. I regret visiting this place, as I decided long ago no longer to support zoos and especially the kind that is located in someone’s house. One look at this small crocodile enclosure and you get what I mean.


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SERIOUSLY,  after this trip, you must write a book and call it as  this thread is called . . . WOW, the pics and your writing are outtarhisworld

I agree. You have a talent. It could be up there with "Zen and the Art of Motorcycling".

BTW, that gator sure looks down doing hard time.

You didn't go to Xochimilco. It's the Venice of Mexico!

I generally avoided the black hole of CDMX and its surroundings.  Too big, too many things to see and do.  I'd never get out of Mexico!

But thanks for the heads up.  Xochimilco goes on the list for the next trip.

Okay, so a little interlude here for those that have never driven or ridden in Mexico.  Traveling throughout Mexico you will inevitably run into various manifestations of Our Lady of Guadalupe, a Marian vision reported by a 16th century Aztec man and since turned into a cultural icon.  Homages to the Virgin are so abundant and diverse they share little in common beyond their ubiquity: candles, tattoos, coffee mugs, key chains, cellphone cases, and checks are just a few examples.  A peculiar instance of this adoration is found in various roadside shrines, which appear in the most random and remote locations along the country's backroads and highways.

These shrines are as unique and diverse as the landscapes they inhabit.  They can be as large as a bedroom or as small a shoebox.  They take the form of cabinets, doghouses, churches, castles, rotundas, or simply holes chiseled out of the rock.  Some have locked gates to prevent vandalization, others openly gather offerings and personal baubles.  They often stand alone, but a few are part of elaborate constructions, complete with stairs or ornate entry ways.  They are painted from a full palette of impressionist's colors that call out from the din of brush and rock.  They are rarely found near civilization, which serves their purpose: out on an empty road they are beacons of hope and protection for those far from home, while offering a place of personal worship to locals in rural areas.

Here are fifteen examples of their infinite variety, but really I could post fifteen hundred if I had the time to stop and photograph every one.


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You'll see lots of those shrines along the way in Central/South America, some are as a remembrance to someone who was killed there, others, have a more religious meaning

Awesome pictures and great narrative. Thanks for sharing  [bow_down]

Question; how is your Spanish and do you think you could make the journey with little to no Spanish?  I could see some things (trip to a mechanic for example) maybe not working out anywhere near expected without a decent vocabulary.

My spanish is ok. I speak at a solid B1 level.

It definitely helps the experience immensely when you speak the language.  Opportunities come up that would not if you couldn't communicate with the locals---invitations for activities, advice about hidden gems, etc.  However, I've met quite a few riders along the way that speak little-to-no spanish and they manage to get by just fine.

The problem for most of us traveling is that we tend to meet gringos along the way and speak w them in english. And if a local speaks better english than you do spanish, you settle on communicating in english. It becomes hard to practice.  Traveling alone definitely helps force you to practice more.  Couples I meet always have the problem that they never speak Spanish, or the one that is worse relies on the better one to talk to locals.

If you're thinking of doing a trip like this, I recommend trying to learn at least some spanish before you go, then you can stop in a city or town you like and take classes to boost your level relatively cheaply. I like Guanajuato so much that I stayed there for 2 weeks and paid I think $225 for the classes (4 hrs a day, 5 days a week). It was their down season and the other students were at beginner level, so I was alone---basically I got 2 weeks of private lessons. I found an apartment that was $75/week.  Very economical, very helpful.

This happened today:


So I was in the middle of nowhere in SE Oaxaca fighting some really nasty cross winds and I decided to pull over, hydrate, and decided how much longer I wanted to battle mother nature before I settled in for the night.  My ultimate destination, San Cristobal de las Casa, was too far to reach in one day.

Anyway, when I suit up and get riding again, my rear tire skids a bit as I hit the slight curb of the highway asphalt.  Then when I accelerate to highway speeds the bike feels really unstable, so I stop.  Rear is completely flat.  I try to pump in some air to get me to the next city, but it won't accept any so I figure the hole must be quite big.  Yet I can't find the entry point on the outside.  Maybe I torn the value stem?  I roll 3 km on a flat rear and find one of Mexico's ubiquitous tire guys ("vulcanizador").

The hole in the tube is indeed pretty big...and then we find the culprit:


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When you all gave me the tire changing lesson, how come we didn't cover the repair process for a 3.5" knife blade rolling around the inside of your wheel?!  

We ended up identifying 4 holes in the tube and also the entry hole in the tire.  Salvador fixed all with ease. I said that I had a spare front (21") tube I could use until I got to the next major city but he said he could repair my shredded 17" just fine.  He was right.  Rode another 40 miles after he finished up, including a bold maneuver along a ridge across a torn up piece of asphalt that almost cost me a pannier, before setting in.

These guys really know how to fix a tire.  Actually, Salvador knows, the guy to the right just knows how to oversee things.  Sal says he does 6-12 a day which explains how he is so good.  Took just under an hour to do mine and the total charge was 50 pesos ($2.50).  I gave him 70, and a celebratory trago of mezcal that I had in my bags.  Behold the master:


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Good that Sal could fix you up!

Use a 21" front tube in a 17" rear tire?
I'm assuming someone on ADVrider has done it and says it works... I'd think it would give up quickly or not work at all.

Yeah, that is general advice from a few sources about how to keep your tool kit light by only bringing one backup tube.  But I have yet to meet anyone that has actually done it.

In any case, my experience today scared me enough to order a backup rear tube.  I will find the space in my panniers to store it.

Hi all,

Have been traveling a bunch, photographing less, and without internet for some days but I'll try to play a little catchup here.

So my next stop was Oaxaca.  Great city.  What makes it great is not really photographable, namely, the food, bars, arts, music, and general culture.  It is a shame, since Oaxaca and spiritual twin San Cristobal (in Chiapas) were my two favorite cities in Mexico and I have few pictures of them.  So it goes.

Anyway, Oaxaca and neighboring Chiapas are the two states that have had a lot of protests from teacher groups resisting federal education reform.  You can read about it elsewhere.  But it creates a concern for travelers like myself since the protestors tend to block main roads and interstate highways.  Sometimes you can get through, sometimes you can't.  The situation is fluid so asking locals before you travel is advisable.  I encountered a blockade getting into Oaxaca, but luckily they let me through.  In the city itself, graffiti served as a constant reminder of the state's rebellious soul.  Example (fyi - Zapata was one of the leaders of the Mexican Revolution):


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As stated, I ate well, drank my weight in mezcal, and thoroughly enjoyed myself.  But no photos worth sharing.  I did take a day trip to Tule, home of the largest (as measured by trunk circumference) tree in the world:


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The tree had a official child guides that lead you around the trunk with a pocket mirror and reflect sunlight onto certain burls and knobs that have colorful names like the "witch's face" and "the legs of the giraffe" and so on.  My guide, Julio, was the youngest of the group.  He had more energy than patience:


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About 10km from the center of Oaxaca is the ancient Zapotec city of Monte Alban.  It rises up over the valley offering sweeping views of the city and the mountains and giving it a celestial character.


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After five days in Oaxaca I headed to the coast (more on that ride later).  The coast of Oaxaca is gorgeous and has the languid pace of all underpopulated beach towns, even my thoughts moved slowly.  I ended up in Mazunte, but there are a host of neighboring beauties such as San Agustinillo, Zipolite, and the Bahias de Huatulco in which I could have easily been trapped for weeks of morning reading, afternoon hammock naps, evening swims, and early nights at quiet bars.  But the road was calling, so...


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NIce . . .

If I could bare to ride for more then a 20 minute session at a track day, your trip, photos and writing would surely motivate me to pack it all in and follow your example of taking the long way around.

Safe travels! [beer]

What happens after 20 minutes?

Pumpkins?

I like me a good grotto/shrine. Not sure why, just do.

I'll say it again as others have; you should write a book/articles on this. I'd buy the book. Also, send a copy to Lonely Planet. Your words really capture the feeling that makes me want to travel again.

On the other matter raised by GregP, old joints, a CPAP machine and a wife who hates camping make me adventure ride out of my 4x4 ute. We carry the bike, bike gear and all the GLW's make up, hair straighteners, clothes and other creature comforts to a 4-5 Star chalet as a base from which to adventure ride a few hours in any direction, but always able to return to "base camp" that night for champagne and a spa bath. It's tough, but I dig deep! [laugh] Gone are the days of my twenties and thirties of sleeping in an open field on a tarp in my leathers with biker mates who smelled like dead water buffaloes.  ;D

It's great you are doing this now.

I have it in writing, cremate me and toss my ashes wherever . . .

Yeah, that's my thinking.  My mother and step-father are retired and like to travel, but they are old and afraid to explore outside of city centers and organized tours.  Add to that a titanium hip in one and a replaced knee in the other and their bodies make poor travel vessels.  

All my parts are still OEM and I'm sans GLW and hair straighteners, so might as well while I can...



If Oz were connected with anything else, I'd try to make that a trip, too.  Already have a invite to ride with Ung if I ever make it there.  Maybe I'll do a fly and buy scenario.  Then again, the largeness of your spiders is a big deterrent.  



BTW, what is GLW?  I'm guessing something something wife.

Can still build a shrine, though.  May I suggest some sort of bronze plate filled with all manner of meats and grains?

GLW= Good Loving Wife

[laugh]

You could fly and hire up north and the same out west and fly and borrow down south. Fly and hire in Tasmania too. They are all separate deals in a place that stretches it's width the equivalent of London to Moscow. Fly and hire saves you a lot of time travelling through moonscape. Down south and mid-north east I'm sure there would be free tour guides.  [thumbsup]

The English would say "good lady wife".

If'n you're smart...

it's good looking wife. [thumbsup]

The voice of experience. ;) ;D

Ya'all are just jealous. ;) [laugh]

After my tire shredding incident, I sought out a spare tube for when my patched one fails.  I'm running a 130/80-17 tire, which is an oddball size here.  The best I could find was a 130/70-17, which I picked up for $5. 

Should be fine, no?

You're fine with that, it'll just stretch a little wider.

Better going smaller than larger.
If the tube has folds in it when inflated, due to being too large, the flexing of the tire will scrub the fold of the tube and it'll eventually fail.
Not sure how long that takes, I've not done an experiment.

Many thanks, Speeddog.

Close enough, you are doing adventure touring.  Load rating is probably a little less, so, sidewall max pressure allowing, up the tire pressure a couple of PSI.  Speeddog is fast!  Guess that's how he got his name.

Waiting for your book [thumbsup]  'til then  [Dolph]

The corner worker waves the checkered flag and they let the really fast guys on the track for their session.  I then tell everyone within ear shot how crazy fast I was in the last session and they all laugh at me because my knee pucks don't have a single scratch on them and I have 3" chicken strips on my tires.  I repeat this about 6 more times during the day and hopefully go home with my bike and body in one piece.  ;D

Are you OK?  Its been several days.

He should be OK . . . Just hard to get good/decent internet connection if you're NOT in a large city in Central America . . .

Yeah, I'm in El Salvador now, so have a bit of story line to catch up on.

Next stop was San Cristobal de las Casas in Chiapas.  Much like Oaxaca, it was a vibrant city with lots of chic bars, eateries, and artisan shops.  And much like Oaxaca, I didn't take many pictures because I was too busy enjoying myself.  As it were, San Cristobal attracts quite a lot of devotees to the Virgin, whose holiday is celebrated on Dec 12.  Groups of Catholics, many of them teenagers, run hundreds of miles in a sort of relay race where the bulk of the group rides in the back of a pickup and each participant runs a short section, perhaps a quarter mile, with a torch that they pass to the next runner.  When all have run the cycle repeats.  In keeping with the theme of suffering as an expression of devotion, many run barefoot.  These torch runners may spend the whole month of December running day and night around Mexico, ;iving out of the back of a van.  Riding from the beach in Oaxaca to the mountain town of San Critobal (2200m) I passed dozens of such groups.  Some of them I saw again in the city a day or two after I arrived, climbing the stairs to their final destination at the appropriately named Iglesia de Guadalupe.  As it was the weekend of the Virgin holiday, there was a lot of fanfare, including live music and fireworks.


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Not all was suffering, though.  I came across a group of kids performing regional dances.  I never tire of watching Mexicans perform folk dances.


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About an hour west of San Cristobal, is the Cañon de Sumidero national park, a deep canyon that was formed about the same time as the Grand Canyon and is equally sublime.  Tours are given by boat and offer breathtaking views of enormous walls, some reaching heights of 1000m at one point.  You also encounter a panoply of wildlife, including Brown Pelicans, Little Blue Herons, Snowy Egrets, Black Vultures, and American Crocodiles.  Once again, my lack of telephoto lens limits the amount of nature shots worth sharing.  Here is what made the cut:


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Keeping with the theme for the area, there was a Lupe shrine in a grotto deep in the park.  Someone took the time to light the candles.


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In San Cristobal I met a Dutch-Canadian rider.  We decided to partner up for the next leg to Palenque, a town 200km away that is the site of one of the most remarkable pre-Colombian cities in all of the Americas.  But first we had to navigate some pretty hairy roads where we saw: a dead body in the middle of the road (cause unknown), what may have been a staged accident in which we ignored, and about a half dozen "extortion wires"---basically locals who hold a rope across the road and demand a donation to lower it.  We paused to stop at Agua Azul, a series of waterfalls and pools, to cool off with an afternoon swim.


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The next day we wandered through Palenque, an ancient Mayan city cut out of the Chiapas jungle.  Its central palace is a labyrinth of halls, chambers, and towers that weave in and out each other.  Various temples populate the surrounding jungle, the most prominent of which is the Temple of Inscriptions.  Inside, a hidden passage discovered in 1948 leads to a chamber wherein former ruler Pakal (603-683CE) is buried in a elaborate tomb decorated with all manner of opulence.  Though the sarcophagus remains in situ, a detailed replica is on display in the museum near the entrance of the park.


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Nice to know you are OK . . .

Happy New Year

Glad to hear you're safe and doing well, plus delivering top-shelf photos and commentary as usual!

Palenque is spectacular, I was there in the mid-70's, saw the actual sarcophagus down inside the temple.
I remember seeing several 'hills' amongst the temples that were obviously un-excavated structures.

Original is off limits now, so you are lucky!  And I bet some of those mounds have been excavated by now.

NOTE: A little wordy, so if you don't like reading, wait for the next post.  [thumbsup]


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Somewhere between Oaxaca City and the costal town of Puerta Angel sits a small mountain pueblo stolen from the Northern California coast, complete with hippies and organic produce and evening fog.  Strategically placed across town are hand painted signs that advertise "Navarro 4 Elementos Temazcal” with crudely drawn directional arrows.   These announcements are largely superfluous, however, as everyone knows Navarro.  You simply need ask around.

Navarro is a local shaman that provides temazcal rituals, a form of pre-Colombian sweat lodge.   With his long mane tied up in a thick black bun, the few gray hairs in his beard betraying his fifty-some years, he looks more like a floor manager at an acoustic guitar shop than some indigenous priest.  His dark eyes radiate crows feet that curl up in a manner that could only come from a lifetime of smiling.  Rocco, his canine friend, is more peer than pet: when asked after returning from an errand where Rocco is, Navarro replies, ”I dunno, he’s probably hanging out in town.  He goes where he wants."  Such is the pace of San Jose del Pacifico.  It is a town that drifts.

Navarro learned all he knows about medicinal plants from his grandmother, with whom he spent fifteen of his adult years learning the craft.   He is also an expert scuba diver and trained chiropractor but those are mere accouterment gathered from a drifter’s life.  His true talent is for the temazcal, a ancient steam bath used by Mayans for body cleansing, battle recovery, and childbirth.

The temazcal begins when you enter a small damp concrete igloo barely larger than a dog house.  Smoldering rocks are shoveled into a central pit, a bucket of boiling tea is placed inside, and the entrance is covered.  In near darkness you dip a bushel of herbs into the bucket and drip the hot liquid onto the stones, a process that spawns a thick, sweet steam that fills the enclosure.  It is, in effect, a tea sauna and each breath has the trace odor and subtle taste of a cup of herbal tea.  After twenty minutes of such brewing, when you feel completely relaxed in the void, Navarro exchanges the first bucket for one of a different mixture meant to induce fever.  Then comes a period of increasing tension and vertigo, when darkness and claustrophobia start to press in and suffocate you until you don’t think you can take any more.  Just then the door opens and you’re led out and the fresh mountain air washes over you hard like a breaking wave.  After a shower of cool spring water and a body rinse with lukewarm tea (“it’s good for the skin”), you are as relaxed as a afternoon cat.  It is here when you are in the proper mindset for the mushrooms.


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Aldous Huxley called the brain a reducing valve with for the mind, something that limits consciousness rather than generates it.  This view in fact has some medical basis: studies have shown some psychedelics to actually reduce certain brain functions, effectively turning off the filter.  After a thirty-year hiatus, research has begun again on the therapeutic uses of hallucinogens.  Here is what we know: they simulate serotonin, resulting in an elevated sense of happiness and well-being; they largely act outside of the dopamine pathways and as a result do not induce physical addiction; they seem to inhibit certain parts of the brain related to self-monitoring.  This latter feature has proven helpful to people suffering from PTSD (see here (http://www.voanews.com/a/scientists-explore-hallucinogen-treatments-for-ptsd-sex-abuse-victims-142648416/181034.html) and here (https://www.theguardian.com/science/2016/dec/01/fda-mdma-ptsd-final-trials)) and to cancer patients dealing with depression (see here (https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/01/health/hallucinogenic-mushrooms-psilocybin-cancer-anxiety-depression.html) and here (https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/magazine/acid-test-the-case-for-using-psychedelics-to-treat-ptsd-depression/2014/09/04/03c3c222-0e01-11e4-8c9a-923ecc0c7d23_story.html?utm_term=.ab88791790c7)).

But none of this technical stuff is on your mind when you finish the cup of mild tea and swallow the last bite of the strangely tasty fungus (a bit like pan-seared shiitakes, but thicker and crunchier).  Instead, you simply accept Navarro’s invitation to explore his jungle property.  “There’s an exposed boulder that offers a good view.  When you see a large maguey, turn left.”   So you wander down through the trees until you find the maguey and you make yourself comfortable on the rock, and you look out over the forest and the mountains and the distance Pacific, and you wait for something to happen.

Though magic mushrooms are an optional part of Navarro’s temazcal, they offer a final step in the regenerative ritual.  Once ingested you have about twenty minutes until they take effect, and the remainder of the day to roam Navarro’s fifteen hectares of mountain wilderness.  Usually only individuals and small groups opt for the mushrooms, but he once hosted a group of twenty-seven who elected to partake.  He rolls his eyes and chuckles when he recounts the day, “I felt like the director of a psychiatric ward.”  The property was a carnival of weirdos, people scattered across the hillside giggling at the empty air, lying in the dirt, wandering in circles gaping up at the sky.  A half dozen-or-so were standing still as statues staring at some insignificant piece of nature.  “My garden looked like an art museum”.  He vowed not to do such a large group again.  “The singular experiences are better.  You learn that you don’t need anyone.”


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When the landscape begins to breathe, swelling and shrinking like the thorax of some sleeping giant, then you know the psilocybin has taken effect.  All your sense organs are turned into overdrive, elevating every minute sensation to a distorted pitch.  Flowers burn bright like fire.  Hummingbirds pass with a whomp! as loud as a jet engine.  Branches move and twist as if growing in some time-lapse video.   Eventually the intensity settles and you reach a steady state of hallucinations that, fascinating as they are, are not so much seeing things that aren’t there but rather seeing more in what is there, as if by accident the face of your wristwatch popped off revealing for the first time the intricate and beautiful machinery that underlies its simple function.  Such intense wonder at the world no doubt is the cause of infant drooling.  And so you drool, like an infant, wide eyed and drop-jawed, for the better part of the day: staring endlessly at the kaleidoscopic canopy above, repeatedly fondling the smooth waxy surface of a maguey tongue, intensely listening to the bees buzz in and out of the flaming flowers.  You have become another one of Navarro’s inmates, a garden statue, some misfit standing petrified before a jungle shrub investigating the byzantine veins of its leaf while mouthing the word “wow” over and again, the psilocybin not leading through the rabbit hole to some lofty viewpoint as you'd expected but rather sucking you back into the doltish infancy.

And yet beyond the drool there is real revelation.  Sounds that were once disturbing---the violent roar of semis on the road above---become just one more pleasant vibration in a sea of vibrations.  Nothing is discordant, nothing disturbs.  Worry and self-doubt are abandoned.  Anything with origins in the past or future simply evaporates.  What's left is the eternal happiness of a well-fed dog.  Perhaps it’s the effect of the temazcal preface, perhaps it’s Navarro’s local variety of mushrooms which grow by a nearby spring (“The soil is good and healthy.  The ones from Chiapas?  They grow in fields fertilized by cow shit.”).  Whatever the cause, the trip provides a peace and self-assurance that is rarely found outside of monastic temples.

At some point you realize that this beatific state will end and you don't want it to so you start devising ways to take a piece back with you, like a stealing a shell from a deserted beach to which you’ll never return. But it is a futile ambition and you know you must learn to let go.  So you just sit there on that rock with your maguey friend and you watch the night fog drifting in from the Pacific.  And you wonder where the hummingbirds went and when the flowers burned out.  And you hear the distant chirps of unseen birds in the fading light and you notice that the wind has died down and everything is slowing.  And so you take a deep breath and let it out and you accept that it is all slipping away as you stare in the gathering darkness at the ebbing wonder of the world.


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Ah, The Quickening. ;D

Well, I read it but, I WILL HEAR IT, in person soon . . . ;D

Oh my.  Can't wait for the book!

Then the movie. ;D

I want a signed copy. ;D

A fellow traveler I see.   ;)

Ok, back on the road...

After Palenque I crossed over into Guatemala and landed in Flores, a small island town in Lake Peten Itza.  With no mountains or forest canopy to block the horizon, the sunsets were spectacular.


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Flores is one of the popular launching points for Tikal, an enormous Mayan city built deep in the Guatemalan jungle and covering an area of sixteen square kilometers.  Long jungle paths separate the structures, many of which remain completely covered by earth, appearing as unnatural mounds in the forest.  The dense canopy offers encounters with wildlife, including spider and howler monkeys, blue morpho butterflies (google them), ocellated turkeys, and white-nose coati.  Approximately five hundred jaguars live in the surrounding Tikal National Park, too, about one per square kilometer.  Among the various structures are temples, residences, alters, ball fields, and even what is believed to have been a jail.


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After Tikal I headed south to Semuc Champey, a series of stepped azure pools formed atop an underground river.  Semuc is in a very remote area and what appeared on various maps as a major highway cutting through the mountains proved more aspirational than actual.  Fifty kilometers of the nastiest rock and mud mountain roads separate you from a mild 11km pass that leads to the Lanquin, the main village before Semuc.


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Na, just recently watched Highlander. [laugh]

There can be only one!

Holy Ground Highlander, remember what Ramirez taught you!

😉😉

Next up: Lake Atitlan, a lake surrounded by dormant volcanoes and lively lakeside villages.


In Panajachel, I met the kind of person that reminds me why I take these kind of trips.  A gringo who is all energy and no regret.  In the 80s he was on the very same solo moto adventure through the Americas when an accident in Honduras left him paralyzed for six months.  Upon recovery, he had to be air-lifted out by US Military due to civil war (Remember the Reagan/Contras eighties?  Central America wasn't exactly ADV-friendly). When he informed the Marines that he wanted to be taken to Nicaragua instead of be flown home, they thought he was nuts.  But on he went.  Had a business in Peru for years until regime change basically wiped him out, hitchhiked/walked from Cape Town to Kenya, almost dying of malaria on the way, and recently woke up to a 30' boulder crashing into his house from the mountain above, stopping against a now v-shaped support column 3 feet from him and his wife snoozing in bed.  A true adventurer that believes life is best lived beyond your porch with the throttle wide open and bugs caught in the teeth of your ear-to-ear smile.  If you ever end up in Panajachel, stop by and order a cup o' joe and listen to him tell a tale.

I ended up spending christmas at the lake.  For some reason, central americans (especially Mexicans) love the kind of fireworks that are all thunder and no lightning.  From 8p til 2a it was christmas in Aleppo.  As can be seen below, no helicopter parenting here.  Children are encouraged to play with fire.


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After I went to Antigua, where nights were spent drinking mezcal and mingling with a salad of locals, ex-pats, and backpackers passing through.  Days were spent in the twin activity of recover and regret.  Not many pictures, since I was too social to bother much with my camera.


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Outside Antigua is a resort called Hobbitenango, where the proprietor of a local comic book store build a Shire-style property, complete with round doors and guest rooms build into the hillside.  The views of the surrounding valleys and volcanoes alone are worth the trip.



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I returned to the lake for New Year's for a hippy-style party that is best left for a DIMBY recount, but if your imaginations can construct a narrative from the following, by all means give it a go: fire magicians, dancing robots, flying acrobats, vicarious birth rituals, a menstrual blood shrine, butterflies and pixies, literal tree huggers, DJs in skulls, fireworks (the good kind), a sultan's bed of near naked bodies, sunrise yoga, and snoring hobos embedded in fields of frosted worms.  Ok, give that a try.


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:D

 [clap] [clap]

From the party to end all parties, I crossed into El Salvador for some much needed peace and solitude.  My first stop was Ruta de las Flores, a series of small villages in the mountains near the border.  The road along the route was filled with all sorts of flowers (hence the name) and each village had its own unique traits.  In Ataco, murals decorate the shops and single story buildings along the main drag.  In Juayua, a Cristo Negro attracts visitors to the main church.  I managed to hire a local guide, Elmer, who brought along a pair of dogs ("junior guides") as we hiked through the surrounding coffee plantations and mountain forests as we toured a half dozen waterfalls.  The trail appeared and disappeared in the dense jungle, with Elmer clearing brush with his impressive machete skills.


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After Ruta de las Flores, I headed to a lake resort and then to a few beach towns, before ending up at a paradise by the sea near the Nicaraguan border called Playa Esteron.  Thronged with city folk down for the day when I arrived, the place cleared out on Monday leaving behind an eden of empty caramel beaches, cool offshore breezes, a army of drowsy hammocks, two resident pelicans (one-winged rescues), endless cadence of surfable waves, shaded palm groves, and painted sunsets.  Nothing to do but sway in a hammock and listen to your beard grow.


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Sounds like that beard's growin' just fine.

[thumbsup]

  [clap][popcorn]

Those sunset pics are awesome.  :)

Well, to be fair, those sunsets were awesome.

 ;D

Saw this today at the beach.  Hubba hubba.  [drool]


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Really cool, form follows function.

Again, great thread! [thumbsup]

Nicaragua was next.  I had heard good things, so I was looking forward to discovering its bounty.  As the second poorest country in Latin America, I expected it to be cheap.  Well, it wasn't all that cheap.  And the bounty was a mixed bag of struggling cities and beautiful natural forests and beaches.

First stop was León, the formal capital.  The city wears a patina of fading colors and pealing paint that reminds you its golden age is much forgotten.  But a handful of restaurants and trendy hostels have popped up, suggesting that this is the next Central American city to be a top destination.  I could definitely see it becoming another Antigua (Guatemala, not the island nation) ten years from now.  The tall statue in the photo below is La Gigantona, a derisive depiction of a Spanish woman (tall, effete) that is part of fall holiday celebrations.  Not shown is Pepe, El Enano Cabezon (the Big Headed Dwarf), who always accompanies her and is meant to represent the smarter, but shorter, indigenous people.


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León is (allegedly) the only place in the world where you can try "volcano boarding", which is another attempt by mankind to sublimate nature by the most humiliating means possible.  On the scale of ridiculous, it lies somewhere between fish pedicures and riding an emu.  The victim here is Cerro Negro, the youngest volcano in Central America and a pile of dusty black gravel that looks more like the staging area for highway construction materials than a boiling pit to the bowels of the earth.

The truth is, volcano boarding sounds more exciting than it is.  Like most downward adventures---skiing, BASE jumping, surfing---the bulk of the challenge is getting to the top.  The launch is all gravity.  In the case of Cerro Negro, a half-hour shuttle ride from León is followed by a forty-minute hike up the mountain.  The subsequent 700m trip down is not much different from winter sledding, except that instead of the gentle tickle of melting snowflakes on your cheek you get a face full of pebbles pelting you at 70 kph that will remain in your teeth long after the thrill of the ride remains in your memory.  Still, the views from the top alone are worth the price of entry!


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Follow this thread with envy...


 [beer] [coffee] [Dolph] [thumbsup] [thumbsup] [thumbsup]

From León I headed to Granada, a four-block band aid of colorful shops, lively restaurants, and colonial churches laid over an otherwise featureless and forgettable city.  Located on the northwestern edge of Lake Nicaragua, one of the more popular activities is to tour by boat the 300+ small islands (Las Isletas) that spill out from the shore.  Most of the islands a small, less than an acre or so, and are owned by wealthy individuals as vacation property or perhaps just for bragging rights.  However, some host singular hotels, one is occupied by a family of spider monkeys, many are for sale (the islands, not the monkeys), and most are empty.  Another popular activity in Granada is to visit Volcán Masaya at night.  This active volcano is straight out of a Bond flick: it was the first volcano of probably a dozen active volcanoes I’ve visited in my life where I could stand at the rim, look down into an open crater, and see flowing magna.


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In the middle of the lake rise a pair of volcanoes that have formed a barbell-shaped island, Ometepe.  The local populations circumscribe the island, with plantations of coffee, plantains, and other fruits occupying the sloped fields inland at the base of the volcanoes.  The atmosphere is pure island---laid back and slow--and much of my time was spent swaying in hammocks and reading.  I did hire a guide to lead me via horseback to a remote waterfall one day and kayaked along to a gator filled stream another.  But no matter how I started the day I ended up on the dock by 5:30p, beer in hand, watching the sun set over the edge of the lake and set the sky ablaze.  As if that majesty weren't enough, when darkness fell a swarm of fireflies would appear in the tall grass around the shoreline.  Fireflies where I grew up in the Northeast are less populous but more active, like will-o-wisps, flying around and glowing intermittently.  In contrast, these would remain in the same spot and glow consistently, like some alien species signaling to distant ancestors across the night sky.


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I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the inspired and opinionated dueño of the hostel where I stayed: Alvaro.  Alvaro is a man dedicated to improving the lives and community of the locales and has a number of projects in the works.  First, he hosts a bilingual school that teaches the local children English, a skill he recognizes as essential to increasing their career opportunities as they get older.   Additionally, he's created a solution for handling the mounds of trash piling up across the island: stuff non-organic garbage inside of empty water bottles and use them in the construction of his school.  I had images of the process but unfortunately gave that SD card to my dad a few weeks ago without downloading on my laptop.  All I have at hand is a picture of the man himself, but if you’re curious about the process I put a link to a video about him at the end of this post.


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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RW7DnSPM_wU

Next up was Costa Rica, a country that reminded me a lot of Hawai'i in its mix of sunny beaches and cool tropical mountains full of wildlife and vegetation.  Outdoor activities reign in Costa Rica, from hiking to kayaking to ziplining to bird watching to surfing to canyoning etc etc.  My father came down for five days and we explored the coast around Tamarindo as well as some mountain hikes inland.  After four months of traveling, it was nice to see a familiar face.  Nice to stay in a real resort, too.  I had forgotten what a hot water shower was like.

Nature is so abundant, and is now the primary income source (having displaced bananas for the top spot), that the government and the people seem in concert on protecting and promoting CR's eco-bounty.  The following are photos from Rincon de la Vieja and Monteverde, two great places to see nature in its abundance.


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Orosi is a beautiful valley east of San Jose.  The route along 224 and then 225 to the Caribbean coast is one of the best roads I've ridden on my trip and one any motorcyclist passing through should take.


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My father and went to thermal springs and took a mud bath during the process.  Left that place limber as a bowl of jello.


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Great photos and write-up as usual!!

For the record (spoiler alert!) I had dinner with Carlos last night.  So: mission accomplished.  [thumbsup]   With that box checked, the thread begs for a rechristening.


In any case, good to see a fellow DMFer.  Feels a bit like a mini-DIMBY---the number of participants may be less, but the opinions are just as plentiful and twice as colorful.   ;D

Congratulations on getting that done!  [beer]

Mark

Bravo. [clap]

Well, we had dinner then dimsum then some lunch and dogs warmed up to him quite fast . ..

He will tell the rest later

Congrats on getting to Panama! Interesting choice of moto to get there ... many would talk about it ... little who would do.

Good wright up, pics and thread. ....Write & Ride on brother ...
 
[Dolph]





(ummm hate to ask but...Dinner with Carlos;.... I've see this reference before ... but I'll be the duffus to ask who IS Carlos? lol)

DarkMonster620...
He's participated in many group activities, but lives in Panama.

ah!
tanks for the clue in ...lol.

 [drink]

DarkMonster620 IS Carlos!

He's been around for ages, an ex Ducati mech who is both extremely friendly and helpful.

His eating and cooking habits are legendary. His snacks would make most people's main meals look rank amateur!

Funny guy, great guy! 👍🏻👍🏻

Quick post on Panama pre-Carlos:

So Panama is the Forgotten Country: so many travelers I met on my journey had little to say, positive or negative, about it.  I guess it suffers from being a pivot point between continents thats traveler as afflicted with hyperopia and spend little time exploring its various offerings before moving on to undiscovered lands north and south.  That's a shame, since there are really some great spots like Bocas del Toro (a series of islands and remote beaches near the border of Costa Rica), Santa Catalina (a surfing town with beautiful views of the Pacific and great food), Sante Fe (a mountain village where orange and tangerine trees are so abundant that fruit falls like rain as you walk along hiking trails and dirt roads)  and El Valle (a popular weekend getaway two hours from the Panama City with hikes and waterfalls).  Panama gets the award for hottest country on the trip so far: the Caribbean side is humid and hot and green like Florida and the SE USA; the Pacific side is hot and brown and dry much like SoCal and Baja.  A few images from these places below.  Free dinner to whoever can identify the rusted engine at the bottom.  ;D


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That's either a Cat Dozer motor...or Carlos' 620. ;D

Definitely could be either of those ;D

Carlos's (DarkMonster620) wife works for the Canal, so we are able to get VIP access and my first full night in the city we were invited to ride a container ship through the Gallard Cut, the narrowest portion of the Canal, and out into the Pacific ocean.  This included passing through two sets of locks: Pedro Miguel and Miraflores.

For a non-engineer like myself, the Canal initially had a mild appeal, the kind of roadside attraction that would get Clark Griswold excited but did little to spur interest from his wife and kids ("Don't you want to see the second largest ball of twine on the face of the earth, which is only four short hours away?!").  But actually experiencing the process, riding atop an enormous container ship six stories high carrying a thousand tons of cargo under the spider-like Centenario Bridge while approaching 100-yr old locks that draw water from manmade Gutan Lake in order to raise and lower ships 27m, was a sublime experience that parallels first seeing the Grand Canyon or climbing 5000m Peruvian peaks.

The human brain is incapable of grasping truly large things, which is why scientists use so many analogies when describing the universe.  The temperature of the sun, the distance between stars, the age of our planet, the depth of the ocean are all so inconceivably large and so far beyond our daily experience that our brains simply can't comprehend them.  It's in places at the edge of civilization like where we for a brief moment grasp the infinite.

The reason I mention this is that the Canal is the first and only manmade structure I've experienced that has this effect.  The ships as impossibly large.  The Centenario Bridge is lit up in a way that highlights the simple and elegant beauty of its engineering.  The locks are at once incredibly simple in concept and inconceivably complex in function.  And to think that man did this.  That someone a century ago said "What if...?" and then someone else said "Why not?" and then it was done.  It's baffling.  It is man playing god.

This was the impression I could not escape drifting along at 8 knots under a full moon in the cool night air atop a manmade mountain in a manmade river, a paean to human ingenuity and ambition.  Thanks Carlos!




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 [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

Pics or it did not happen

Haven't seen a pic of our lunch   . . . . I know it happened but we have no proof .. .. ..

I'm a figment of your imagination

So I never had a burger a beer and sweet fried potatoes  . ..weird dreams I keep having

You should lay off the booze man

You will get your pic   ....

:D

Ok ok.  We'll take a photo tonight as proof.   ;)



DarkMonster has been a welcoming and generous host, helping me get parts for my bike and driving me to all the places I needed to get the bike on a shipping container to Colombia.


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As a personal tour guide, he offers unique takes on the buildings and history of the city, complete with strong opinions and backed by a steady stream of alternative facts.  ;D


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Of course, what would time spent with the DMF's most famous stomach be without culinary adventures.  And so we've eaten at the best local joints the city has to offer: russian-owned pasta places, dim sum breakfasts, Panamanian cafes (sancocho!!), local fish & shrimp joints and, best of all, Casa de Carlos where the head chef's cooking exceed its reputation.  [clap]

After a day of touring in the afternoon heat, and weakened by a full belly, there really is only one thing to do...


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I was NOT sleeping . . . just had my eyes closed . . . I was tapping my feet to the rythm of the music in the background . . .

The first pic after the pic of the bike in container, tells you how far I live from the city . . .

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Steak dinner delivered as promised.  Thanks to DarkMonster for all the hospitality!  [thumbsup]

How come your packed in a container and floating vs continuing to ride?

You can't ride through the Darien Gap (the land bridge that connects Panama and Colombia).  It is 80 miles of untamed jungle.



One guy did it years ago, on a 250 I think (not sure), and he had a group of people who basically had to carry the bike---down hills, over fallen trees, through rivers, etc---more than ride it.  At least, that's the story.

Sounds like the ship is the way to go then :o

This is great! Safe travels and keep the pics coming.

Did you end up doing the Ecuador trip?

I'm not having any luck  dredging up the name of the rider or the title of the book he wrote, but there was a guy who rode a BMW R80GS through the Darien Gap quite a few years ago.  As I recall, he occasionally had some help from locals along the way but didn't have any sort of paid entourage.  

Life has gotten in the way so it was put on the back burner.

I'll be living vicariously through you for now.

Cheers  [beer]

On a bit of a different tangent -  [popcorn]

Have you considered doing the Dakar Rally? Its being held in S S America countries now usually just after new years early January (didn't follow it this year; but have others); they've moved it from Dakar after too many hassles, dangers and political unrest. Very high quality international competition where pro off road riders and motor companies are testing there endurance for - 10 days - should be a ride in the park for you; and just think you wouldn't have to ride on a loaded bike!

 [Dolph]

You overestimate my riding abilities.  When you fall into a ditch making a u-turn and need a team of Guatemalan good samaritans to lift you out, you're not ready for Dakar.   ;D

You don't simply decide to run the Dakar. It is a professional race which you need to qualify for, but you can follow them between checkpoints. You simply take a highway instead of off-road. There are some legs that are really isolated, so finding a gas stop might be a problem.

All that said, if I am still here next year during Dakar, I'm definitely going to try to go watch it live somewhere.  Those dudes are nuts!

Ok, so I finally make it to Cartagena and spend two days at the port getting my bike out.  It's not easy to get things done across a half dozen offices when everyone takes a three-hour lunch.  But I'm in no hurry, so I sweat it out and enjoy the city while I'm there.


Graffiti and colorful colonial buildings are what most tourists note about this walled port town, but in the end Cartagena is a city ruled by the sun, where the population is tyrannized by its relentless heat and piercing glare.  Locals defend themselves with umbrellas, with newspapers stretched aloft like Roman phalanges withstanding an arrow attack, or sometimes with just a bare hand sacrificed up to Apollo.  Unprepared tourists keep local hat vendors rich or simply resign to burn, a cost of Caribbean travel.  As the day progresses, the sun herds citizens to thin strips of shadowy relief where they dance and twist in awkward passes to avoid stepping out into the sunlight as if it carried an infectious disease.  This makes for humorous people watching: as the temperature rises, the common courtesies of sidewalk interaction slacken in favor of personal survival.  When the heat peaks in mid-afternoon, the shaded side of the street becomes so fat with people and the light side so vacant that it threatens to capsize the city.


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Hope that was referred to / acknowledged in the original post.;


... [popcorn]...

SOOOO ... how do we qualify ... [evil]

I  challenge ...


All of U to be there ... and some qualifying!!!


....  [evil]....


 [Dolph]


 .... back to the event at hand. and BTW on topic; national geographic photos.

what camera are you using?

http://www.ricoh-imaging.co.jp/english/products/gr/


No zoom lens, but it has an APS-C sensor and it fits in my pocket and it so far has proven durable.

From Cartagena I headed east to Barranquilla, which boasts the second largest Carnaval in the world (Rio, unsurprisingly, is first). After meeting three separate people that had lost or stolen phones, I kept my electronics at home so I’ve no pictures to share other than these from the Batalla de las Flores parade:


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After four days of Carnaval, which were two days too many for these aging bones, I continued east to explore more of Colombia’s Caribbean coast. In Santa Marta I met up with a Colombian woman I met earlier who had some time off.  We spend the days exploring the area and taking day trips to surrounding attractions: the laid back bay of Taganga, the blue cove of Playa Grande, the waterfalls in Minca, and, most memorable, a rented boat that took us to a series of unpopulated beaches hidden among rocky coastal cliffs.  There I may have found the formula for eternal happiness: six Club Colombia lagers, two bottles of water, one paisa, and zero strangers.  All to ourselves, we began naming the beaches like conquistadors of paradise: we dubbed the panorama below Volcano de Arena due to its mountain of sand, another we christened Playa Marfil because of the veins of marble in the cliffside rocks wherein we took refuge from the sun.


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Eventually, my friend had to go back to work in Bogota and so I headed east to explore more of the Atlantic coast.  In Palomino, I met some travelers that suggested I visit the La Guajira peninsula, a remote seaside desert that includes the northern most point in South America: Punta Gallinas.  After many weeks in dense urban areas, I was happy to explore the wilderness.

Cabo de la Vela sits in the northwest corner of the untamed La Guajira peninsula, where the asphalt ends and route finding consists of a lottery of faded tracks written in the desert floor.  There, fifty miles from the nearest petrol station, gas is sold to desperate motorists in repurposed plastic bottles hanging like fresh butcher cuts from the driftwood beams of thatched huts.  If you can decipher a path through this wasteland you will discover a vast milky blue sea that is as lifeless as the land.  No sunbathers, no jet skies, no hordes of seagulls pickpocketing tourists, no peddlers hawking local wares.  Just waves lapping against the sand while lonesome boats rock slowly in the tide.

The only activity in Cabo are the kite surfers, drawn to the area's steady breeze, who glide across the the surface of the water like pelicans, occasionally lifted up into the heavens by a rogue gust.  For non-surfers, there is nothing to do but pass the time until the day's psychedelic sunset.  No cell service, no wifi, no electricity during daylight hours.  The whole place is like a hidden land described in some children's fable: a journey beyond civilization where a lost tribe lives under Olympian skies and colorful water acrobats have the power to fly.


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You're getting pretty good at this writing shit. ;D

The lad's in form. ;D

I do believe 1.21GW should get someone to publish and promote this adventure.  Fantastic writing and photos!

I did tell him that at least 1xday while he was here

Thanks guys.  If it were up to me, the trip would never end.  Although Colombia is a making a helluva case for settling down (sorry DarkMonster  ;)).

I know, I ain't going to the wedding . . . Wont hold a grudge . . . you know my thinking about that country and its neighbor . . .

Did you fall in love? ;D

Daily.   ;)

 ;D

 :o !

(the language out of some administrators!) ;D

... and the pics are the s_it too! [thumbsup]

 [Dolph]

... and you haven't even made Brazil yet, need pics of Brz rumps at beach there too.

Have an old Canadian irish friend in Salvador Bahia Brazil; I can give you an email address; he's a bit of an eccentric professor type but loves to drink beer eat and is entertaining.

Your comment about people getting there stuff stolen in Columbia is even more a problem in Brazil as you may have heard; your the rich white nort americano walking wallet of a months rent and food. Also will not hesitate to get violent if your not cooperating guns can be had easily by whoever; cops are corrupt - avoid them. I was there 3 weeks 15 yrs ago and was one of the few who didn't loose much; others were not so fortunate. My sixth sense saved us a couple of times; then just plain luck others. Drivers are laid back quirky nutty unpredictable.  People loved when I tried to speak protégées; very proud people who are happy with who they are and to be Brazilian. your going through Brazil right? ... cant imagine doing what your doing. Very cool  adventurous.

 [Dolph]

oh and the Dakar rally....The route of the 2017 Dakar preserves rally-raid traditions, with a physical challenge that will push the competitors into the world of extreme endurance....lol

With the addition of Paraguay, the Dakar will visit the 29th country in its history, the 5th on the South American continent. Then the rally will head for its longest stay so far in Bolivia and more specifically the capital city of La Paz. Argentina, which has been a part of every edition since 2009, will be the theatre for the final battle decided in Buenos Aires.


THE DAKAR 2018 ROUTE WILL BE RELEASED THE 22nd OF MARCH... ARE YOU ready? oh this diserves a  [popcorn]...

Update: 25 Mar 17

Dakar 2018 Route: Peru, Bolivia and Argentina
40th edition, 10th edition in South America, the Dakar will reacquaint itself with the Pacific Ocean and the Peruvian dunes, which the riders and drivers will tackle after several days in the capital, Lima. The race will continue in Bolivia, where the rest day will take place in a supercharged atmosphere in La Paz and will finish in Argentina, Córdoba, which will host the finish of the Dakar for the first time.

http://www.dakar.com/dakar/2018/us/route.html

cool Renault picture there.

I am going to def read this thread.

Enjoy  and Be safe!

+1

Soooo...did one stick?

Where are you? ;D

He still in Colombia, I text via Whatsapp with him when he has good wifi basically .  .  .

Yeah yeah yeah.  There are just so many distractions here.   But seeing as one of those distractions just left yesterday to go home to Bogotá, I'm free to update a little bit.   ;)


After Cabo de la Vela, I rode 1100km south towards Bogotá, stopping in various towns and parks along the way over the following week.

A short distance east of Aguachica is a small national park called Estoraques, named for an endemic species of tree that is no longer found in the park.   The park's main attraction, however, are the towers of brownstone formed by millennia of wind and flood erosion.  In truth, they look more like lumpy towers of wet sand plopped in a vertical pile that my nephews make at the beach.  Wandering through them is a fun experience, and a lot like exploring some elfish settlement of Lord of the Rings or other fantasy world.  Even the way there is an adventures, as the road from Aguachica follows the mountains, which turn a mere 40km as-the-crow-flies into 86km of spaghetti twisties.


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Continuing south past the regional capital of Bucaramango you run into Chicamocha Canyon, as enormous and impressive as the Grand Canyon or Copper Canyon or Sumidero Canyon or any other canyon carving up the Continental Divide.  The road hugs the cliffside, offering uninterrupted views that can be dangerously distracting.  Someone had the brilliant idea to place a waterpark at one open vista, complete with lounge chairs and a full cash bar for the adults.


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Now, stare at that last picture and just imagine sitting there with your kids happily off swimming in the park and you with glass of rum in hand and nothing to look at but the undeniable majesty of nature.  Disneyland and Six Flags ain't got nothing on this place.


8)

The roads through Santander (a Department, akin to a state or province) from Canyon Chicamocha were fun little asphalt scribbles amid the hills.  So much of Santander looks like Tuscany: rolling hills, winding roads, stone walls separating the property lines of various whitewashed villas, each capped with red-tiled roofs.  I was heading to Barichara, a small colonial village on a hilltop that overlooks the surrounding countryside.  As I neared the village, my Garmin led me off the main road and onto some ruddy farm roads that, under different weather conditions, would be impassable bogs of clay.  As it were, they were dry enough that I thought I'd give it a try and I ended up with a nice ride through the farmlands.

There isn't much to say about Barichara except it is beautiful and tranquil and the people were warm and it proved to be my favorite pueblo in all of Latin America to this point.  If I lived in Colombia, I'd own a vacation apartment in Barichara.


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Here is the view from the north edge of town.  Below is a path (Camino de Real) that passes through the farms to a tiny village called Guane.  It's a wonderfully peaceful hike and worth it if you have the time: follow the Camino to Guane, have breakfast and explore the village, then catch a $0.75 15min bus ride back to Barichara.


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About 15km south is the city of San Gil, a outdoor mecca where adventure companies will take you bungee jumping, canyoning, rappelling, whitewater rafting, and a dozen other extreme activities.  I opted for the rafting, and found myself paddling desperately through Class III - V rapids for the first time in my life.

Here's footage from the guide's GoPro when we entered the last hard section of strong rapids.   I'm in the front right of the raft, and was not as fortunate as the people in the back who popped back up after the flip.  After a good 15 seconds of tumbling underwater getting intimate with the river's submerged boulders, I came up under the raft (luckily, there were air pockets).  I sucked in a deep breath and then swam  out from under and was able to get dragged like a rag doll through the rest of that mess.  I had river taste in my mouth for a week.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRYdi8Q6qVg





My next stop was Guadalupe, yet another colonial village in the hills of Santander.  Except for the central square and its beautiful church, the town was unremarkable at least by standards of Colombian colonial hillside villages.  But the real attraction to Guadalupe are natural pools formed in the base rock of a nearby river.  The hike there is spectacular, as you follow a stone path through green fields of cattle and stray horses, all with a backdrop of cloud covered Andean peaks.  The pools themselves are around 2m in diameter and 2-3m deep: in the final picture below the blond guy is vertical and his feet are not touching the bottom of that pool.  Water trickles down the surface of the rock and into the pools, offering a meditative white noise to drown out the outside world.  It was the perfect place to recover from my San Gil adventure.


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I eventually reached Bogota, where I met up with my sister for a few days.  Not many pictures of the city, but we did take day trips.  One such trip was to the Salt Cathedral of Zipaquirá, a cathedral carved in the walls of a former salt mine.  The mine is still active but access is from other veins, leaving the cathedral as both a tourist attraction and an unsanctioned catholic church with regular Sunday services.


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After a week in Bogota, I headed to Medellin, a two-day ride through the northern Andes.  Just outside of Medellin is Guatapé, a small village with an enormous rock that overlooks the surrounding landscape.  The rock (El Peñon de Guatapé) is a 200m high inselberg that overlooks eastern Antioquia, where a man-made lake spreads its waters like jade capillaries throughout the surrounding hills.  A corset stitch of stairs leads you zig-zagging up to the top and its panoramic feast.  With heavy afternoon showers, the vista was particularly electrifying.  In contrast, the nearby hamlet of Guatapé is more intimate and contained.  Its streets bloom with a bouquet of colorful buildings, each painted in its own funky palette.


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Did you get a chance to visit Monserrate church while you were in Bogota?

Are you ever coming back? [popcorn]

It's just a question... [thumbsup]

Amazing as always [clap]

Visiting LatAm is very different to living there. Even though it can be fun and cheap in certain countries, you start to appreciate the liberties provided in the US. GW is doing it right.

He can continue to travel anywhere in the world and deliver amazing images and thoughtful text.

If Valley Desmo wants to sponsor that, I'm open to it.  ;)


In all honesty, I'm about halfway done.  Geographically near the halfway point.  Economically, I just passed the halfway point of the savings I built up for this trip.  So I'd say I have another 6-8 months left.  Trying to make it to December when the weather in Patagonia will be friendly for bike travel.



As a side note, I met a Dutch woman who trains horses as she travels.  We have been discussing buying horses and crossing Mongolia on horseback.  Would only be 3 months or so, but would be another type of horsepower-driven trip.  ;D

Couple of technical questions coming.  First is about spark plug condition:



I just changed spark plugs on the bike at 17k miles.  Bought the bike at ~4k and haven't changed them until now.  I am a bad human being and did not check them during my travels, so I have no baseline for what they looked like or how they are changing.  (There is probably a level of hell for lazy people like me.)  With that caveat, what does the board think of these?


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My Clymer manual pictures imply that there is either some carbon- or oil-fouling going on.  But I'm inclined to think that this is more-or-less normal wear for the bike after 13k miles (or more likely all 17k, if I assume that when I bought the bike it still had the OEM plugs).  Thoughts?







 ???

Remember you have been riding at altitude, maybe as I told you in my garage, your bike was NOT set up for too high .  .  . I say they are just a little wet . .  But, didn't you replaced them here? Or just the oil?

If the bike isn't using oil at a noticeable rate, carry on, no worries.

DarkMonster: just replaced the oil in PTY, no plugs.

Speeddog: not noticeable oil consumption at all.  Thanks!

Almost sure we did the plugs for some reason . . . Maybe I was hungry or something

You probably ate the plugs.

Looks a little rich is all. Normal for that bike running at altitude. They're not fouling bad enough to not run. Be happy.

Ok thanks.  Second question: tire rubes.


So all the flats I've gotten so far have been in populated areas where I could limp the bike over to one of the millions of tire repair shops in Latin America.  With a little time on my hands, some space to work, and in need of two new tires I decided to get some practice and change them myself.  Rear was a pregnant dog to get the last few inches around the rim but I got it at the small cost of a half dozen-or-so cuts and bruises on my hands.

Front tire was much easier (as they usually are), but I pinched the tube when inflating.  So I removed the tube and installed a my back-up tube, taking time to be more careful.  Well, I pinched that one too.  Deciding to cut my loses I took it to the shop and had them install and inflate the third tube.

Anyone have any strategies or techniques for not trapping the tube between the tire and the bead on narrow wheels (90/90-21 in this case)?

You can inflate the tube just a bit, enough that it'll nearly hold it's shape.
But not too much, as then you'll be fighting it.

Besides that, a fine dusting of talcum powder on the inside of the tire.

Then lots of practice.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

This

Yes, carbon fouling.  Black fluffy is gas, oily, well, oil.  Better photos might help, but since you are going through altitude changes and you are not having any problems I say just  [Dolph].  Maybe carry an extra set of plugs.

Tires have been covered. 

Thanks all.


I guess I just need more tire practice.  I'm sure I'll get some in coming weeks.   [Dolph]

Ok, quick follow-up on spark plugs, then I'll get back to posting pretty pictures...

After changing out those old Densor standard plugs (i.e. one electrode) for new NGK dual-electrode plugs, I seem to be getting about 3+ more mpg.  Is that possible?

Lots of noise in my mpg due to changes in elevation, riding style, road conditions, gas quality, etc. but I'm basing the 3+ number on the average of my last 5 fill-ups, so it should be smoothed out a little.  Anyway, can plugs have that much of an effect, or am I experiencing something unrelated?

Hard tellin'...not knowin'.

Too many variables to make any conclusions.

To clarify, I'm not asking IF it is the cause of mpg gain, only whether a spark plug change CAN improve mpg by a few.  Anyway, back on the road so time to post some pics.


I spent a month in Medellin just hanging out in a rented apartment for what was effectively halftime on the trip. Didn’t really take the camera around with me, but here are a few pics worth sharing.  That iguana in the last image was one of a dozen-or-so roaming the botanical gardens. I don’t exaggerate when I say that it was the size of a full-grown possum.

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Medellin is located in a valley that has beautiful sunsets on a daily basis. If you’ve ever considered paragliding, I’d say there is no better place to try it than in one of the hillside towns on the ridges above the city. Do it at dusk for the full effect of majesty.


http://youtu.be/mn8w2jAjleo

I headed next to Colombia’s coffee region, an area that is nothing but misty green mountains.  Unsurprisingly, the coffee is excellent.  The NY Times did a travel article on the region a few weeks ago (click here (https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/07/travel/colombia-coffee-country-andes-mountains.html?_r=0)), so I guess it’s becoming a quite a popular tourist destination.  The area is also where you encounter an increasing number of refurbished Jeeps, nicknamed “Willys”, that are painted in all shades of color.


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Though there are a few larger cities in the coffee region, the main tourist destination is a little pueblo called Salento and its access to the 60m tall wax palms in the nearby Cocora Valley.  Travelers refer to them as "Dr. Seuss trees" due to their attenuated trunks and shock of tousled fronds that seem drawn from the pages of a children's book.  Their cartoonish proportions are so oddly out of place among the familiar forms of the region that they appear as alien invaders in a foreign land.  A 5-hr hike around the valley cuts through cloud forests with raging rivers and wobbly suspension bridges, and then down to the valley floor where the wax palms stand tall and erect like soldiers at attention.  Along the way, mustangs and cattle form ghostly figures in the fog.  And everywhere everything is green, and everything is wet.

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Look at that, there is even a Benotto in one of the pics . . .

I don't think fresh plugs will give an increase of a few mpg all by themselves.

The next time it drops off, change them and prove me wrong. [thumbsup]

I've passed lots and lots of dedicated bikers in Colombia and, as I'm seeing now, in Ecuador.  The mountains provide good training ground I guess.  Like in your city, many Colombian cities shut down roads on Sundays for bikers.




I accept that challenge.  ;D

Next up was the Tatacoa Desert, named by Spanish conquistadors after the local rattlesnakes.  Tatacoa is a bit of an anomaly: a proper hot-and-dry desert (a mere 330sq km / 125 sq mi) surrounded entirely by wet tropical mountains.  Its mounds of desert clay have eroded into a maze of gullies that from a distance look like one giant spore colony spreading across the landscape.  Up close, the forms appear more like miniature versions of the grand sandstone towers of the American Southwest, such as in Monument Valley or Arches National Park.

The flat plane of the valley and the dry air combine for spectacular sunset vistas.  In my lucky case, I caught a rainbow, a full moon, and a spectacular sunset all at once.  Made for perhaps the best sunset beer viewing I've ever had.


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This one's for you, Carlos.  Was stopped for a full half hour in northern Ecuador because there was some kind of bike race.  Turned out only to be like twenty guys.  


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That's what we do . . . Guille says hello and take care . . . don't forget to write . . .

So my bike came with an aftermarket exhaust purchased by the PO and wrapped around it were two hose clamps that were meant to hold a long since lost heat shield.  I never bothered getting a new shield but realized its importance when a few weeks into this trip I discovered a golf ball-sized hole burned through the inner knee of my Aerostitch pants.  I patched them with duck tape and have been riding that way for the past 8 months.

Finally, after passing exactly 11tybillion metal shops between Chihuahua and Quito, I decided to do something about it and hired a guy in Ecuador to make me a shield.  He did a great job of shaping it to fit the curve of the exhaust.  I like the rough finish, too.  Very Mad Max-ish!

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What do you think, Monsterlover?  Does it pass the professional critique?




Here he is in action.  Gracias, Jose!

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 [thumbsup]

3rd world craftmanship . . .

 [thumbsup]

Function over form is something not often seen around these parts!

Mark

From the desert I continued south to San Agustín and the archeological park that is home to an estimated 600 quirky statues that are part of the world's largest necropolis.  Almost nothing is known about the civilization that carved them, just a few points of data from carbon dating, a piece of indecipherable script, and a lot of archeological speculation.  The figures themselves are as inscrutable as the culture that crafted them: their lack of context invites you to imagine for each figure an eccentric personality and unique superpower, like a Pokémon character, as you stroll through the park.


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From San Agustín, I was contemplating my route to Ecuador when heavy rains caused a landslide that blocked the one road to Popoyán.  So that made my decision for me: I would head south to Mocoa and then across the Trampolina de la Muerte, a 60km unpaved single lane road across the Andes, to Posta.  The road is billed as Colombia's version of Bolivia's famous Road of Death, but in truth it wasn't that bad given in relatively dry conditions: only one river crossing was deeper than a foot, and that barely so, while muddy sections were few and fare between.

I did run into a scary moment when I passed a truck and due to poor targeting on both our parts ending up with my wheels about six inches from the edge of the cliff, with no railing to prevent a fall.  I stopped and tried to top-toe the bike past but my mirrors and panniers were pressed up against the walls of the truck, which was at an angle so the space ahead of me was shrinking.  I could lean the bike to the side to create space between me and the truck, by I would be leaning 450 lbs of bike and gear over the edge of sizable cliff.  Efforts at honking to get some help from the truck driver were ignored.  So I said my prayers and hoped I could power through the 6 feet I needed to reach safety without the handlebars getting jerked to the side and me going off the cliff.  I won't lie: half my brain was calculating if I had the dexterity to jump off in the even the bike went over.  It doubt I did.

A helmet cam would have made for good viewing now that all is clear, but alas I didn't have one.  Anyway, I obviously made it safely.  It was not the first time on this trip I trusted the marriage of heavy throttle and dynamic stability to get me over sketchy terrain.

Pictures of the Trampolina aren't that impressive, since the landscape was just overgrown forest.  But in the first one below you can see the scars of landslides up on the mountainside.  They are daily occurrences during the rain season and much of the riding is passing through the remnants of half-cleared rockfall.  In some images, you can see that they have started to add railing (even before they pave anything), but they still have a ways to go.


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The whole latitudinal move across the Andes was so that I might exit Colombia through Ipiales in order to see what is billed as The Most Beautiful Church in the World, according to The Telegraph (UK).  Though it's built in a gothic style, the basilica at Santuario de Las Lajas is in fact a very modern construction, completed in 1949 on the site of a shrine that sanctified a 18th century Marian vision in the canyon.  For personal reasons, I still have La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona as the most beautiful church structure I've seen.  But when it comes to the combination of structure and setting, I have yet to cross a church that beats Las Lajas.


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What is absent from the photos is the roar of the Guaítara River and the nearby waterfall.  They add to the meditative nature of the setting.  This is the view from the front of my hotel.  Were it not for the afternoon rain, I could have spent hours at this spot.

http://youtu.be/hJfjeQt-etE

This is gorgeous. I had never heard of this church. This is definitely now on my list.

Definitely recommended the visit.  I don't, however, recommend staying in Las Lajas.  Dead town, and the food options are pretty bad.  On the other hand, if you're in the market to buy a rosary I know 87 shops I can recommend.  ;)

Dude, that heat shield, like this whole thread, is make the beast with two backsing badass.

Should I ask Jose if he does mill work?  ;D

I crossed into Ecuador and met a couple riding a pair of Teneres from Oregon at the border.  They mentioned a cool cemetery about twenty minutes away so I decided to swing as I continued south.  The cemetery in Tulcan is populated with playful figures carved out of plump cypress trees that stand across from the walls of funerary vaults and around plots of gravestones in playful mockery.  The impish figures are the creation of the cemetery's original gardener, who began carving the shapes over seventy years ago.  Long since deceased, his sons carry on his legacy today.


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I then headed through a series of towns and cities, including Baños, a popular adventure destination with waterfalls, rafting, zip lines, and mountaintop swings. 


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I actually just hired a guy who starts tomorrow. Had he not accepted I would have wanted you to talk to Jose, yes.

Nice.  Good luck! [thumbsup]







My next stop was Alausí, a town in the central Andes with excellent views.  The village itself is rather forgettable, with few places to stay and even fewer to eat.  Sunny mornings quickly give way to overcast afternoons and then evening fog, providing a drab atmosphere.  But the reason to go to Alausí is not the worn buildings and abandoned bull ring but rather the train line that wraps around a mountain prominence called the Devil's Nose.

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The Nariz del Diablo is a unique feature along Ecuador's rail system formed by the convergence of two rivers.  To get the train down the steep canyon walls engineers designed a series of switchbacks where the engine reverses direction twice during the 500m decent.  This section of track was built a century ago with immigrant labor from the Caribbean, many of whom permanently settled in the country.  In total, an estimated 2,000 workers died during construction, leading many locals to believe the project was cursed and giving rise to the mountain's ominous name.


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 [popcorn]

...ha ...

... cool trip ...

... nice pics ...

... ride on ...

... thanks for sharing!

 [Dolph]


(...suppose I'm; were all envious ... but keep on doing what your doin; we'er all in a different place in a different time.)

(oh just checking; sacrificial chicas?)

I need no encouragement to continue.  Probably need the opposite: someone to tell me to get back on the train and get a job.  But for now, more riding.


Next up was Cuenca, a mellow colonial city in south central Ecuador.  I don't really do city pics, so all you get is this.

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From Cuenca I headed to the beach for two weeks and stayed at my friend's hotel.  The beach is not all that pretty in Ecuador but people don't go for the scenery, they go for the nightlife and the waves.  Caught some nice rides, took a few yoga classes for the first time in my life and gave my body a good reset after eight months and 13k miles of riding.

Anyway, the way from Cuenca to the coast passes through Las Cajas National Park.  The palette of purples, grays, and ochres was a change of key from the myriad greens that cover the rest of the country.  Few visitors and a constant cloud cover created an atmosphere of remoteness and solitude.


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I say make the beast with two backs it... the wheel isn't that much fun. Ride on!

Send me a ticket. ;D

That will do just fine!!

Please keep riding!   [Dolph] 

Thanks, DesmoDiva.



So I didn't spend as much time in Ecuador as it deserves, mainly because I rode all over the country two years ago on an off-road moto trip with Ecuador Freedom Bike.  But I would be remiss if I didn't say anything about the Ecuadorian Andes, which are as yet the most beautiful mountain range I've ridden through.  They are something to behold, a chorus of green that sings continuously through the central spine of the country, offering endless new wonder around every hairpin turn and behind every passing cloud.  The slopes, tiled with crop fields and cow pastures, appear as enormous mosaics of jade and emerald that glimmer under waves of golden sunlight like the gleam on some great Incan treasure.


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 [Dolph] [thumbsup]

Wow.

Yep    [clap] [clap] [clap] [clap] [clap]

Yeah guys, Ecuador has some amazing roads.  But I'm learning that Peru is another animal.  The reason is obvious when you look at a map: it's 5x the size of Ecuador (or, for you west-coasters: 3x California).  So much space means a big diversity of climates and geography.  I keep stopping to take a picture thinking I’m seeing something special and then around the next bend there is a better view of something even more remarkable.

Unfortunately, I was running late my first full day in Peru due to 4 hrs of PITA at the insurance office (Peru requires you purchase auto insurance), so most of my ride to Chachapoyas was in the dark which is a shame because it’s such a cool road.  These are the few shots I got before the sun set:


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The next day I rode to Celendín via a route much touted by the folks over at ADVrider.  Although it's no longer a pure dirt road, landslides and loose gravel are all over the place and I actually find gravel-on-asphalt to be more dangerous than gravel-on-gravel or gravel-on-dirt.  So lots of trying not to look at the views and focus on the road under me (all of it is single lane, no railing).  The route gives you a good introduction to Peru, starting in the mountains, heading down to follow a river, then back up into the clouds, then down into a desert landscape, then back up into more high mountain terrain.  No close calls with other drivers this round, but I nearly wore out my horn honking ahead of blind corners.  I did pass a couple on a BMW tourer with bags, etc.  I will forever be confounded on how people can do two-up adventure touring.  Big pat on the back to them!  [thumbsup]

Here are my pics in chronological order to show the terrain changes:


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Sorry, but I have a child's sense of humor.   ;D


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Peru is full of paradoxes.  This was the topic of conversation two days ago with a local mechanic: we were discussing roads in the country and I noted that two blocks away is a billboard with a government ad touting that 5 million soles had been invested in roads and infrastructure in that region.  The sign was on the corner of two streets that looked like they belonged in Mosul or some other war torn village: asphalt ripped up, giant holes, weeds growing throughout, stray dogs picking at garbage, buildings half-built or already crumbling, etc.  The mechanic laughed: "eso es Peru".

When I arrived from Ecuador, after a long day on mostly dirt and rocks going no faster than 30-40kph and spending time doing border crossing stuff, all I wanted was to rest so I settled in a town called San Ignacio about 40 minutes from the border.  The ride there was luckily on asphalt and passed through coffee fields broken up by small villages where locals laid huge tarps of coffee beans out to dry on the sides of the road.  It felt like I was riding along an endless river of pavement with rows of tanning coffee along the banks.

So I get to San Ignacio, find a hotel, shower, eat dinner, and plan my next day's route.  Up and early to hit the road, I seek out a cup of coffee to get energized for the ride.  Can't find one anywhere.  Wikipedia says the town is 120k people, thoigh it felt more like 30-40k.  The point is, this was no small hamlet.  And yet, no morning coffee.  They even had a shop whose sole product for sale was local coffee beans, but no actual coffee to drink.  Places with "cafe" in the title and a clip art cup of coffee in the graphic sold no coffee.  What the hell?  After checking nearly every open business I finally found one but since I spent so much time looking, I didn't have time to sit and sip and thus asked for it to go.  After ten minutes, the lady brings me this:

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A doggone sandwich bag of coffee that is about as black as Rachel Dolezal, and too hot to actually hold.  I've seen and drunk bags of water and bags of various juices throughout Latin America---a not uncommon means of holding liquid---but this was the first time I'd gotten coffee in a bag.

So that's Peru: government praises its investment in the areas that lack any sign of investment, and in the heart of a coffee region you can't find a single cup of coffee.

 [laugh]

Did I sent you my friend's # in Peru(Lima)?

You probably did but I lost it when I lost my old WhatsApp.  In any case, I skipped Lima this time around.  Spent enough time there last year.

I’ve been humbled by a road, but was never yet defeated by one until I tried my luck on the dirt roads between Huamachuco to Pallasca.  The route I chose passed through Google Maps’ gray and unmarked void but looked as safe as any other non-asphalt option, so I set off with expectations of a 4-5 hour day.

It began well: a typical dirt road with minor river crossings, but no real challenges.  Progressively the road worsened even as the views kept getting better.  Eventually, I entered a treadmill of deep puddled ruts and rocky switchbacks that cycled for hours.  In what eventually stretched to eight hours of riding that day, I passed five trucks, zero cars, and not a single other motorcycle.


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My planned turnoff (the direct route) to Pallasca turned into a turn-back, as after 7km of hard riding I became convinced a real incident was possible and no one else was dumb enough to ride that forsaken road but me.  Were I traveling with another rider I would have pushed on and hoped things got better, but such is solo riding.  So I backtracked to the original dirt road and continued the long way around through mountains and valleys, past glacial lagoons and abandoned mining operations and around countless switchbacks reddened by oxide streams and all the while not a soul in sight.


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The fun of playing in the dirt wore off as my body wore out, and so eventually I decided to stop and drink some water, pause, and recharge.  There, sitting in the middle of an Andean nowhere, miles from another human being, the ringing of six hours of low-grunt engine noise in my ears slowly dying into the surrounding silence, I watched cloud shadows roll over the forms of the mountains while stuffing handfuls of double-chocolate Oreos into my mouth.  When I looked out across the valley a column of light rose up from a nameless lake.  By the time I got my camera out it had grown into a full arch, perfect in its symmetry and bright against the shadowy backdrop.  I stood as lone witness to that secret wonder, a performance in an empty arena that would have passed through existence unrecorded but that fate had led me to that deserted ridge.  I sat and waited out that miracle, watching it vanish into the thin mountain air from which it was born, its extinction as mystical as its origin.  And then I took a sip of water and I geared up and rode on.


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I still had two hours to go before I reached any civilization and now had to deal with the fading light.  After a final stretch on yet another steep mountainside full of livestock and landslides, I turned around the last corner and saw my destination---a mountain hamlet called Pampas---lit up like some holy shrine calling out to weary pilgrims.  I limped in and knocked on doors of locked and lifeless hotels until one took pity on me.  A lukewarm shower never felt so good.  That night I slept like a bear.


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Self preservation is never a bad idea.

Also, wow!

...and to think just a year ago we taught him how to change a tire. ;D

[laugh]

Was that only a year ago?!?!

In terms you would understand, that's like 3" of beard ago ;D

Wow!

You better write a book.

Or become a travel writer of National Geographic or Smithsonian

Yup...

As I like to say...

perspective. ;D

Haha.  I've managed to limit the facial hair to five-o'clock shadows.  But I did discover my first gray chest hair on this trip.  He now has siblings, no doubt fathered by a few close calls with oncoming trucks.  ;D

I have hair. [thumbsup] [thumbsup]

This, again, I repeat . . . pay attention . . . or let's go grab another shifter screw

After the neverending day, I was happy to seek out asphalt, which made up 90% of following day's ride through the Cañon de Pato, a narrow, arid, and lifeless canyon formed by the Rio Santo flowing from the Cordillera Blanca mountain range down to the sea.  Lots of short tunnels on this route.  Empty mines and burned up tankers made it a little like riding through a Mad Max wasteland.


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Next stop was Huanuco on my way south.  I got a chance to do some basic maintenance at a moto shop recommended to me by some folks at ADVrider.  Great group of guys, and I ended up coming back to the shop with some beers and just hanging out in the evening.  We talked bikes, Peru, Dakar, and more, while they took every chance to haze and ridicule El Tigre, the shop apprentice.  Just proves that bike shops are the same in every language, in every country.  This pretty much captures the spirit of the day:


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Didn't take many pictures on the road to Huanuco, but the section that cuts through the Cordillera Blanca and Cordillera Huayhuash ranges was the highlight of the ride.


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From Huancayo, I had two options: SE towards Ayacucho or SW to the coast.  The former is a popular mountain route that leads to Cusco and Machu Picchu.  But I wanted to see the Nazca lines and check out Huacachina, so I headed SW.   That route took me up to flatlands in the 4000-4500m range before defending down through a canyon that follows the Rio Cañete for hours until it spills out into the coastal flatlands.  The coast of Peru, unfortunately, is the ugly stepsister in the family: an overcast and featureless desert.


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So, how did the cojinete greasing go?

Worse than thought.  Whole inside of starter was rusted, bushing cracked in two, and carbon ends needed replacing.  Luckily my guy is a on it.  Should be good to go tomorrow.

The southern coast of Peru is dry desert, getting 5cm of rain a year.  Very different from the snow-capped mountains and jungles of the central and eastern part of the country. 

Near Ica, there is an actual desert oasis: a small lagoon crowned with palm trees located in a boundless sea of sand. I didn't think they existed outside of Victorian adventure novels and Arabian folklore.  But they do and the hamlet of Huacachina is proof.


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The main activity is to take a dune buggy ride over and around the surrounding sand dunes, some hundreds of feet high. The Dakar passes through this area, so it’s fun to imagine the riders going full throttle over the dunes. The dune buggy rides are as thrilling as a roller coaster.

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Nasca is famous for its mysterious lines carved into the desert floor by an ancient civilization. Visible strictly from above, and with no nearby mountaintop or cliff to view them, there purpose and creation remains a bit of a mystery. There is a lookout tower to view a few drawings clustered near the main highway. However, the best views are from aircraft ($80USD). Without a zoom lens, I couldn’t capture much detail so if you want to see more just goggle "Nasca lines".


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The Atacama is also the driest desert in the world.

I just saw something on TV about the lines this weekend, and there you are!

Intriguing read as always! Stay safe.

Mark

So I've read.  Was on my list (the Lagunas Route between Uyuni and Atacama: 400km unsupported through raw desert) but due to a variety of reasons, I'm taking a different path.  I actually read this little nugget on Wikipedia: "Evidence suggests that the Atacama may not have had any significant rainfall from 1570 to 1971."  That's crazy!  :o

Wow.
Good write up man.

Did a tour of the salt flats of Uyuni today. When I booked the tour yesterday the guy noted the date (7-7-7) and said it was good luck. I joked that maybe I'll find El Dorado.  What happened instead is I dropped my camera into a salt lake. No more photos.


Have a few pics still to post and catch up, but this may signal the end of the ride report.  We'll see...

make the beast with two backsbiscuits!

That sucks!

 :'(

Could we send you a new one?

I was just thinking that ....

What camera did you have?

it was a Ricoh no zoom camera . . .

Do we Paypal Carlos and he buys and sends the camera as he's closest?

Sadly, where he is, import duties would be as much as the camera itself . . . As does most of South America . . . Also, he's without a phone that was his secondary camera . . .

There's more than one way to solve this problem.

Carlos rides down there and gives him the camera :D

I haven't been on this forum for over a year... honestly had forgotten about it for a bit. Was in the middle of planning a trip to Patagonia with the wife (the airplane/car/bus way) and feeling wistful that it was only half of the goal I set for myself five years ago--to one day get from here to there on two wheels--when I remembered the forum. Popped back in and what do I see at the top? This thread! Haven't read through all 27 pages so forgive my ignorance but, GW did you do it?!?

To continue documentation of 1.21GW's incredible journey those of us who chip in could cover duty too. 

Yeah! 8)

Perhaps it would be better if 1.21GW purchased a camera locally?

Wouldn't money get to him quicker and more reliably than a package?

Perhaps here:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iquique

Yeah! 8)

 ;D

Even better!

Hey all, thanks for the support.  Really, you guys are great!


Yeah, it's disappointing. Really stupid move on my part, but not worth recounting.

I'm going to be passing through a pair of cities in northern Argentina in a week or so will check out electronic stores there. If nothing works or they're too expensive, I'll buy some online in the US and have family ship it to be.

So I'll eventually get something, just not sure when.  Anyway, the point is there'll be a gap is photos here. I don't want to leave a captive audience. ;)

Hey Eric, good to hear from you.  If I recall, you're SR2 trip to Alaska was one of the first inspirations I had for ADVing and, ultimately, this trip.  I couldn't imagine a monster on some of these roads, though. ;D


To answer your question, No, not yet.  In Tupiza, Bolivia right now (near where Butch and Sundance met there end!) and crossing into Patagonia tomorrow.  Have to wait out the winter so won't be getting to Patagonia until probably November.  But I'm still alive, the bike is still running (recently refurb'd starter!), and all is well.

Ok, playing catchup with remaining pics:

Where was I?  Oh, Huacachina and Nasca. So from there I rode back across the country through the canyons and into the altiplano, my fourth such time cutting through canyons.  Basically in Peru, going North/South, you can ride flat desert wastelands along the coast or curvy mountainside roads along the Andes.  But to go East/West, you ride up along some kind of canyon or riverside path that runs from the Andes to the sea.  The thing about the altiplano is that: 1) it's cold at 4000m+ above sea level; 2) it's generally flat and wide open; 3) it's largely unpopulated; and 4) llamas and alpaca are everywhere.  Vicunyas too, but they only travel in small groups and are very skittish and camera shy.  Llamas, the biggest of the three, don't give a shit about you or your goddamn bike.  I had more than one John Wayne-style standoff with a llama laying claim to the middle of the highway. 


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At least you didn't have to fight an Alpaca :D

they spit

1.21GW is a worldly man now. He can handle himself.

[laugh]

I'm an expert flatulater so we both have our unique offense.  I imagine it'd be a draw.

That's unique? [laugh]

Jumping ahead for a moment:

Was riding from the wine region of Argentina towards Cordoba and decided to spend the night in a nice valley called Tafi del Valle.  It was really windy and hot, probably high 80s F, and very dry desert climate when I arrived.  So I decided to take advantage of the nice weather and found a campground.  I went to town for a snack and to buy some food for a late dinner, and when I returned I noticed an enormous rush of clouds passing over the surrounding ridges and flowing over the lake.  It was like a dam had burst, the clouds were moving so quickly.  They smacked into the mountain on the far side of the lake and created a big billowing cumulous that rose up and puffed like an angry bear.  I'd never seen anything like it before.


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http://youtu.be/xAz4qZXqykk






At that point the temperature was dropping rapidly and by the time I awoke the following day my tent was crusted with a layer of ice.  The whole valley was dusting with snow and so I had to ride (very slowly) through sleet and slush to my next destination.  All the while I kept picturing that scene in Motorcycle Diaries when the two protagonists are riding in the thick snow and have to push the bike, but also the scene from Dumb & Dumber when they ride to Colorado and Jim Carey has the snot-cicles hanging from his nose!  ;D


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Anyway, I frequently stopped to warm my hands in the exhaust.  Even found a nice shack along the way with a fire and hot chocolate.  Conclusion: I love snowy mountains, but hating riding through them.


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Oh, and all those signs in the US that say "Bridge Freezes Before Road"...well, finally in my 39th year I figured out exactly what that means.

;D

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uM5puvES98


 [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

Yeah, I have a friend in Santiago, Chile and she sent me pics of the snow in the city and told me of the chaos it was causing as it was such a rare event.....so look what kind of luck you are bringing down with you, did Crazlo pack a voodoo doll in your bag?

NO I didn't . . . I gave him food and the alternate tour . . . I cooked for him . . .

Voodoo doll wouldn't work.  I'm a human good luck charm.   Spent a week in Panama and it only rained once.  That has to be a record.


Indeed.  And I haven't had bacon since.  South America is bereft of proper bacon.  >:(

and the rain WAS OFF SEASON !!!!

NO BACON!!!!!

THAT'S WHY YOU ARE GOING NUTS

Weird, they ship boatloads south...must be somewhere in between that it gets intercepted.

He was make the beast with two backsing nuts long before he left for South America...

just sayin'.

good conspiracy theory here

Where is all this nuts talk coming from?  I was never informed.

Look in the mirror.

edit...it's not like being that is a bad thing.

I actually admire it.

I think it was attending annuals​ ritualistic bonfires up north with a bunch of aging wildings who have an odd obsession with baked beans that did it.  That, and staring into Corey's eyes too long. He's like Rasputin and Ignacius J Reily and Stonewall Jackson had a threesome and he was the result.

No lie: I've goggled how to build a container house in the woods more than a few times. I've officially passed the Rubicon of sanity.

Normal sucks!  Keep up the good work [thumbsup]

I'd blame it on Corey too. ;D

Ok, let's wrap up Peru...

Finally I reached the piece de resistance of Peru: Cusco & Machu Picchu.  Cusco is a great city, another well-preserved colonial gem of Latin America.  Recommended to those that are passing through is the Norton Bar (named after the moto brand) overlooking the main square.

To anyone considering riding to MP, I advise against it.  It's six hrs from Cusco to hydroelectric plant, the last two of which is dusty mountainside cliff where you will be passing (or passed by) a collectivo or truck every three minutes.  Better to park the bike in Cusco and take a two-day tour.

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I was contemplating skipping MP because I hate crowds and I had a sneaky feeling that, having seen a hundred million photos of it at this point in my life, it could only disappoint.  I was wrong.  It really is a magical place.  Even with the crowds it felt more like some place out of an Indiana Jones movie than anywhere else I've been.  More hidden than Teotihuacan, more mystical than Tikal.

You access MP from the town of Aguascalientes, which is tucked away in a river valley.  No roads there and the only way to arrive is via train or to park at the hydroelectric plant and walk 11km to the town center.   But for such a remote spot, it was bustling with modernity: wifi, modern hotels, bars with craft beers, etc.

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Because the hike up to MP (or bus ride, if you're so inclined) starts at 5am you end up arriving at the site in time to watch the sunrise, which only adds to the majesty.  It is very well preserved, which my guide attributed to becoming a World Heritage site in 1983.


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Amazing. it is on top of my bucket list.

I've been on the same boat. I know so many people that went to MP and showed me pictures that I've always thought to skip it. I guess I won't be convinced until I see it for myself.

wow- thanks for sharing with us!!  what an incredible trip.

Thanks.  Incredible indeed.  And I still have Patagonia yet to reach, which by many accounts is more beautiful than anything on the continent.



If you fancy hard vacations, consider flying and renting from Toby and channeling Che as you ride to MP.  It's worth it just for the drinking and banter at Javier's (Toby's mechanic) shop.

http://www.aroundtheblockmotoadventures.com/

Ok, Bolivia.

Entered via Titicaca route.  Big lake at 3800m.  Nothing more to say, really, which I guess says it all.


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From the lake I headed to La Paz for a few days and then on to Sucre.  La Paz is enormous and too dense and loud for my tastes, but I did find a cool scene of dive bars and little eateries that were fun.  The road from Oruro to Sucre that I chose was under construction, with a good rhythm of pavement, planed gravel, and raw dirt.  So much of the country is empty space between industrial hamlets, and I seemed to pass through all of it.  Construction took out a bit of road near a major river, and cars had simply driven down along the banks and crossed the water.  I followed suit, but didn't expect a good 3ft of flowing water.  I state it here: I hate river crossings.  I am always afraid of unknown depths and the danger of going over and muddy water getting sucked up into the engine.  I get it, I'm a wuss as dirt riders go.  I'm okay with that.

Anyway, the river was up to my knees sitting on the bike and so the rest of the day I was riding in the cold with feet soaked inside my boots.  Ended up around 4800m where unmelted snow lay in the shadows.  Another long and tough day of riding and by the time I got to Sucre I swore I would only take asphalt tracks until I came down off the altiplano.


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Sucre's a nice colonial city, similar in feel to Cuenca and a bit like Cuzco.  My rooster sound had been getting worse (a known problem with the DR650 starter) and in the high altitude and frosty mornings I'd been having more and more trouble getting her to start.  In Oruro I started her and rode off forgetting to put the choke in.  Eventually, she stalled but then wouldn't start.  Ended up resorting to a running start that worked on the third or fourth try.  Pushing 450 lbs of moto as fast as you can at 3700m is no easy task.  After that, i resolved to get the starter looked at at the next major city.

Luckily, that city was home to two of the coolest and kindest mechanics, and general people for that matter, that I've met on my trip.  Moto shops continue to provide some of the kindest and most interesting people on this journey.  Complete opposite of my experience in the US, where they tend to be cold or cranky or pushy and just generally lack the milk of human kindness.  (Present DMF members, of course, excluded.  ;) )

Esteban and Ricardo are two brothers that work out of a tiny space in the periphery of Sucre and perform moto magic.  They opened up the starter---it was rusted out pretty badly---and cleaned her up.  Had to replace a bushing and the brush ends.  Thing is, DR650 parts aren't common there so he just took the broken bushing to a local metal guy who fabricated one from scratch.  Similar DIY solution for the carbon brushes.  So much different experience than in the states where they just replace anything that is slightly busted.  Throw away culture...

Anyway, I ended up spending the afternoon in their shop chatting about the Dakar and various roads and bike and all the typical shop talk.  They have been to parts of Bolivia, but never beyond.  Shame that opportunity escapes so many deserving folks.  They would be awesome travelers.  If anyone passes through Sucre on a bike, whether you need work done or not, stop and see Ricardo and Esteban (marked in iOverlander app).


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And my favorite pic, with the mystery leg...

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Oh, and after all that work he charged me just 200 Bolivianos (about $30 USD).

ah yes... the DR650 rooster... mine now has a proper little bearing in there.

I was getting weird looks every time she cock-a-doodle-do'd.  But as a seasoned owner of a dry clutch ducati, I am used to strangers looking at me like somethings wrong with my bike.

After Sucre I headed to the Salar de Uyuni, passing Cerro Rico (aka Cerro Potosi) on the way.  It's a mountain in central Bolivia that was so mineral rich that the Spanish claimed that it was made entirely of silver.  Although most of the silver was depleted by 1800, mining operations continue to this day.  However, as a result of nearly five centuries of mining, sink holes have opened up all over the mountain including one at the summit in 2011 that, despite efforts to stabilize it, continues to sink every year.


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I then rode to the Uyuni along Bolivia Route 5, a nice long ride through the altiplano.  Lots of camelids and few people and even fewer vehicles.  The area has the feel of the southwest in the states with lots of small brush, a few cactuses, and dry river beds everywhere.  The difference is that at 4000m here it is a steady cold.  After a few hours of riding you ride through a mountain pass and everything falls away and all there is is flatness and in the distance the salt flats glow bright in the midday sun.


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Among the dozens of llama-crossing signs along the road was one singular rhea-crossing sign, although sadly I saw no rheas.


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The Salar itself is a tourist center in the middle of nowhere, as if there were a vacation village build on the moon.  I planned to ride the famed Lagunas Route, which goes from Uyuni through the desert to the Atacama in Chile.  It's about 400km (without gas stations) through sand and rocks and with no trace of a road.  It take about 3 days, depending on how aggressive you ride and how lucky you are with conditions and the bike.  The nights, apparently, as spectacular: the sky glistens with the light of a billion stars.

Sadly, all the scuttlebutt I heard was that parts of the route still had snow from a heavy fall in May.  Traveling alone an such a tough route was intimidating enough (sand!!), but the temperatures and the snow are what did it for me.  So instead I paid for one of the hundred-or-so one-day jeep tours of the flats.  The tours are focused on packing your instagram account with pictures that take advantage of the lack of perspective, and hit the main spots like the Dakar monument and the train graveyard.

Riding through the Salar is pretty crazy: you just go in any direction for hours and nothing gets closer.  There are no markers to gauge distance.  It's like a simulated driving game that through some software glitch is stuck on one level that never ends.


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You can see why the instagrammers love this place.  I even got to fight a dinosaur:


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Just outside Uyuni is a train graveyard with some cool old trains:


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