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Are you a TRAVELLER? Are you interested in rabid piranhas chasing after sweaty underpants, an overlanding motorcycling freak show, dementia in Saigon, lardy overlanders, motorbike junkyards of Hanoi, crocodiles and giant otters in the Amazon jungle, muskox and grizzly bears in Alaska, being held hostage by Ali Baba and his 40 robbers, riding through brown greasy butter like substances, rock-throwing campesinos, the Shandour pass, Summer Solstice Party belly dancers, the Emerald Triangle, underground bunkers of the Khmer Rouge, the Trans Siberia Railway, the world's deepest lake, earthquakes in Arequipa... and much more? Then you're reading the right newsletter! |
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We have plenty of great new stories from all over the world for you this month, in fact this is a record sized edition! We've been extremely busy this month, moving from the UK to Canada has kept us hopping. We're without a bike too, which is very painful, especially right now in Vancouver where the Transit strike is well over a hundred days and still going, so getting around is tricky, and expensive. Plenty of people from the area have written to welcome us, and we look forward to meeting all of you soon. There is even talk of a Horizons Unlimited Travellers meeting in Vancouver / Vancouver Island area in September. If anyone knows of a good location, or can assist, let us know and we'll see what happens! Please submit news reports, web links etc. to me for inclusion in this newsletter. I try to link to your website if you have one. And if you don't have a website, we can help. This is a free service for travellers everywhere, both on the road and (temporarily;-) off. Your support is appreciated.
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Help support the Horizons Unlimited E-zine - visit our sponsors! If Madagascar sounds like a great place to ride to you, (and it sure does to me!) drop by their website and make sure you tell Manfred how you heard about them!
Plan where to be when!If you know of any events of interest to travellers, send me a note. Border Run, Australia, August 4, 20011/2 Way at Border Village on the WA / SA border. This year makes 25th. Formal - black tie, See here for more info, or here. 2001 Possum Lodge Special, August 10 - 12 2001 from the "International Order of Rolling Broccoli Riders", USA.
Pack your "Handy Mans Secret Weapon", enter the Rolling Broccoli Riders open competition for the most original misuse of Duck Tape and try for the prestigious "Red Green Award". NO FEES, no fuss, no frills, just falling down fun, fellowship and frivolities. Info: Helmut Haus, 484044 Cape Rd., RR#2 Wiarton, Ontario, Canada, N0H-2T0 Tel. (519) 534-2598 or email 11th Annual BMW GS "BIG DOG RIDE", August 17-19, Colorado, USAA serious on-and-off road ride for the true BMW GS aficionado. Entrants ride their GS motorcycles to the event, remove saddle bags, boxes and touring gear, then tackle the highest, toughest passes in North America. By "invitation only." Interested entrants should e-mail or call Great American Motorcycle Adventurers (303) 715-9292 or BMW of Denver (303) 936-2317. Event is open to all models of GS BMWs, including HPNs and prototypes. A new class for 2001 has been added for the "robo-boxer" R1150 GS and R1100GS. In conjunction with the event will be the second annual International Wheelie Competition, open to all entrants in the BIG DOG RIDE. TTT Rally, Sydney, Australia, 25-26 August 2001A great rally in the back blocks of the dividing range about 200km SW of Sydney near Wombeyan Caves. Great dirt roads and firetrails to the rally are a hoot. Info. Gieboldehausen 5th Annual Treff, Germany, 31 August to 2 Sept 2001Great rally, well worth going! "This year we have better facilities, a bigger room for slide shows, international guest, news and products concerning motorbike travelling and a party with live-music." Details here. Dargo High Plains Rally, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, 8-9 September 2001Another great rally in the Vic high country. The most amazing camping spot and only 3 hours east of Melbourne. Info here including a PDF map and flyer. Transdanubia Ride 2001 The Ride for Understanding, 25.08. - 01.09.2001"Start in Munich at BMW's, prologue near the city and then off via Austria to the Czech and Slovak Republic to Hungary. With the freedom of selection of route, checkpoints have to be stopped at which in each country lead to the national special stage. It`s in the Puszta with the Magyar people where the ride will fully get going: in four one-day loops starting from the base camp. Here is the complete tempting cross-country terrain which will make the Enduro hearts beat faster. Sand, mud, gravel and one special stage after the other. Participation is permitted for anyone holding a driving licence corresponding with a 4-stroke Enduro. Also admitted are enduro-type side cars and quads (4-stroke only)." 5th EAR Rally (European Airheads Rendezvous) Sept 3 - 8 2001,For Airheads, (old BMW air-cooled twins) airhead-riders and their guests. It will be in the French departement Herault at a gîte rural north of Montepellier and south of Ganges. Gorgeous riding opportunities as well on tarmac as on dirt roads in a Mediterranean climate. The gîte offers plenty of campsites under olive and cork-oak trees, small separated areas stonewall surrounded, a few bedrooms, a bar and a restaurant. Our host, Madame Sanier, offers demi-pension (breakfast and dinner included) for a reasonable price. More info. Clare Navigation Rally, 7 - 11 September 2001, Ireland"...why not join us for the Clare Navigation Rally suitable for large capacity trail motorcycles, in the Burren Co Clare Ireland , also on at the same time is the Famous matchmaking Fair in Lisdoonvarna... rock on! Clare Navigation Rally C/O Philip Gunn, Watergrasshill, CO Cork, Ireland. Ph ++ 353 21 4889 462 Fax ++ 353 21 4889 516 Email, Website" Roadrunner 1000 European Rally, 27 - 29 September 2001, Germany,Starting from a US Military Base in Germany. IronButt type event. If you are interested, there will be a 100 rider limit, so it pays to get your name on the list. Annual Outback Meeting, Tibooburra, Australia, November 3-4, 2001A quick edge of the outback blast for a beer at the family hotel Tibooburra. Organised by the Oz Adventure touring list all off-road bikes are welcome. It will be hot but the beer is cold and the company great. Honda V-Twinners, 7-9 August 2002, Australia,A meeting at Arkaroola, in the North Flinders Ranges. All off-road tourers are welcome to attend. More info. The "Offcentre Rally", Australia, 14-15 August 2002,Held every 2 years, somewhere on the edge of Central Australia, it alternates between the west and the east. In 2002 it is at Urandangie in far western Qld. Have a look around the Oz Adventure Riders site for more info.
GET YOUR WEB SITE LISTED in the LINKS section by listing Horizons Unlimited on YOUR web site, let me know you've done it by mailing me a link to the page, and you may get listed here in the next newsletter and on the Horizons Unlimited web site Links page. To make it easy for you, we even have our logo and link code here! All sites will be considered for listing, but must be a MOTORCYCLE or TRAVEL site, useful or of interest in some way to travellers. Links will be rotated regularly as needed. Centerpoint for several Oz riding groups, plenty of photos
and links. Vancouver (USA) Motorcycle Company (rentals) 11815 NE Highway 99 How to avoid aches and pains when riding MCN’s guide to healthy biking helps ease the potential discomfort
There are many "Helpful People" listed on the Links page, a huge thanks to all of them. How about you? Or you can join a Community, or start your own!
Do you know of a good shop "on the road,"in other words somewhere there isn't a large number of shops? (Also of course any shop that specialises in travellers equipment and repairs is of interest.) But we're particularly looking for those rare items, good repair shops in South America, Africa and Asia etc. I will create a web page for them soon... eventually... real soon now... from Greg Frazier,"BMW of Salt Lake and the Park City Motorcycle Club, both of Utah, teamed up to bring me and my multimedia show "THREE TIMES AROUND THE WORLD BY MOTORCYCLE" in for a presentation and the grand opening of the new Salt Lake BMW showroom / dealership. All done very 'first cabin,' it was a nice return to the USA for me after sleeping in $2.00 rooms across Asia, dodging wayward trucks and buses in India and avoiding the errant 10 million motorcycles on Taiwan. The new BMW dealer actually is encouraging motorcycle travelers to drop in and visit. They do so by offering free computers and Internet connect in their "waiting room" (which is more like a cybercafe), full service, a full line of parts and travel accessories. Besides having books, maps and magazines to browse through in the waiting room, there is also a nice view of the service area where you can watch spotless mechanics spin wrenches in a spotless environment that I would have to say is cleaner than some places I have seen in third world countries called medical facilities or dental offices. The new BMW of Salt Lake owners are so into we travelers that they invited to my show two Aussies, Jo Pritchett and Cameron Gowing, who had stopped in for some parts for their '94 BMW GS. The Aussies had shipped their bike to South America and worked their way north on their way to Alaska. Befriended in Salt Lake, they were mealed and housed, which tells me the Salt Lake BMW guys are either super people or do not know how word will get out fast (like through the HorizonsUnlimited ezine). On their behalf, I extend an invitation to all global travelers to stop in as they pass through Salt Lake and tell them "14 years on 2 wheels, 3 X around the world Greg" sent you. Travelers need not be on Beemers, but after looking at the showroom, it may be hard to leave without one. The best part is the people are nice and really interested in where you have come from and where you are going. It was like a 'mini traveler's rest stop' to find such warmth in a new motorcycle shop."
Submit your tips and questions here, anything goes! Got a great idea for travellers, found a new solution to a problem? Send it in! If you're having a problem, just ask, there's a lot of people with a ton of experience out there to help. "From Martin Rooiman, Netherlands;Resetting the BMW ABS system yourself!Although everyone says it's impossible and can only be done by the BMW dealer we managed it on a R1150GS, but I assume it's universal. The ABS system needs to be reset when both ABS indicators are flashing asynchronously. Follow this procedure: - Switch off the main power and remove the
tank I've made contact with some of the people we were looking for last month, thanks! - but the following are still unaccounted for. If you know any of them, please send in full names and e-mail addresses would be much appreciated! Claire and Mark from England riding two XT600's... Lionel Marx, I have no e-mail for him... Chris van de Goorberg, Netherlands, XT600, last seen in Mali... Kiwi Brian and Japanese Junko, both seen in Chitral Johan ? traveller from Netherlands, last seen in Rio de Janeiro. a couple of riders from French Guyana, she's riding a Suzuki DR 350 and he's riding a new XR 650. Rob Arnell, UK, in India When you meet travellers...on the road, please get contact info and let me know so I can add them to my who's who and where list! Grant E-mail address Problems:Sometimes there is a problem with an e-mail address - it's not that I'm deliberately ignoring you! I have been unable to reply to the following, as the address they gave me bounces. If anyone knows them please let them know the problem: Jürgen Hoffmann, and anyone else @slpol.de, I am unable to get anything through to slpol.de addresses. Please supply another e-mail address by re-subscribing at the Subscribe Form. Chris Smith Thanks!
From Dorothea and Rene Landsee, sitting in Kurdistan waiting for parts,"Maybe you can give us a tip about best shipping it out here - Fedex UPS - who is getting it best into the out back? (I replied "For shipping DHL is usually best, but more expensive, followed by Fedex then UPS. What I always do is find the local offices of each (IF they exist!) and make my decision from that. If the local office exists and is good, then that's who I want to deal with. The other end is fine for all of them." Grant) Plenty more questions and answers on the Bulletin Board! We've just gone over 800 registered users on the Board, which I think is pretty amazing, and gives a huge resource of knowledge and experience to help you with anything you might need to know.
From a thread on the Oz Adventure Touring list;Question: "So... you’ve got the Husky and the BMW, what would you call a 'proper adventure tourer'?
Reply: I figure it would have to convert from R1150GS to Husky to 125 Motocross bike to peewee 50 on demand. 1150 for the open stuff, Husky for the good stuff, 125 for the single track and peewee 50 for when I drop it, have to carry it or have to pick it up. Cheers, Mark Woolley hmmm, any manufacturers listening? Russia to Georgia Border, from Martin Rooiman:"In the second half of June 2000 I tried to cross the border from Russia into Georgia. First I tried the border crossing at Soci but was told it was impossible to cross here as it was only open for locals (i.e.. Russians and Georgians) and people with a Red Cross or UN passport. Although I had a valid Georgian visa it was the Russians who didn't want to give me an exit stamp. If the Georgians would have accepted me is unclear as I never got that far. I drove a 1000km back around the Caucasus mountain range and reported myself at the border crossing at Vladikavkaz. Here I was told exactly the same story. When I asked why I was refused. The only answer I got was: "Rules from Moscow!" I ended up driving the 1000km back to Soci again and try to take the ferry to Georgia, but there wasn't any so I ended up taking the ferry to Trabzon and had to skip whole Georgia from my trip." Request for infoWouldn't YOU like to know all about the border you're approaching - what it should cost, paperwork required, "tips" needed, and who to talk to, etc.? When you cross ANY border, take some notes, and pass them on to us. Thanks! Shipping - There is now a Shipping page on the site. It can be reached directly or from the Shipping link on the Trip Planning page. If you have any information to contribute, there is a form at the bottom of the page which you can submit and we will put it on the page. Thanks! Travel Advisories:The Foreign Office in London's Travel Advice Unit advises against all travel to all sorts of places. Check out the listing before you start!
The US State Department has issued travel advisories, information and/or warnings. |
Steve Raucher, South Africa, around the world, in Vietnam, BMW R1150GS,"Bangkok (Thailand) to Hue (Vietnam) in three days All the pictures on this leg come from Laos. Not surprising really, this country is the most photogenic one I've ever seen.
Ariella and the bike on the ferry to Lao. It may be a good time to point out that the reason for such a hurried approach to Vietnam was the fact that Vietnamese visas stipulate both an entry date and an exit date, and since my detour to Bangkok we had only two weeks left on our visas to see Vietnam. We crossed the border into Laos at Savannakhet on the second day of our three day sprint to Vietnam. We previously had not ventured that far south in Laos so we were happy to be there. Savannakhet is a very picturesque French colonial town set on the Mekong River. From Savannakhet we drove North to Highway Number 8 to the Border with Vietnam 400 kms away. There is a closer one only 200 kms from Savannakhet but it does not allow motorcycles of more than 175cc into the country (this is due to a recent law in Vietnam banning the import of large motorbikes). After crossing some beautiful scenery and having to negotiate some serious rock-falls
'good roads these, if you don't mind the rivers' we managed to get within 30 kms of the Laos-Vietnamese border that day. This town turned out to be a rather pleasant surprise, it's a major logging town and had great guest houses with parking, not to mention fantastic noodle soup!... ...2001-07-13 in Saigon, Friday the 13th Part II The last time I drove on Friday the 13th it was the 13th of April and we were 100 kms from Kathmandu. I remember it well because we hit an oil slick and went flying. So should I have been surprised when exactly 100 kms from Saigon I am refuelling and I notice oil pouring out of my shaft? To get the techno babble out of the way this is what happened. The cage around my final drive bearings ruptured and tore up the oil seal that fits around the hub. All the oil that lubricates the shaft and final drive mechanism was pouring out at this point. Exciting stuff. Well it is if you can't speak the language and have to hire a truck to get your bike into a major city whilst simultaneously trying to source spare parts from Bangkok because if you don't do this in time your visa will expire and cost you an additional US$60 in charges. Do I sound bitter? The good news is that I managed to get the parts sent out by Yut from Dynamic Motors (my hero once again) the bad news is that they still haven't arrived and I need to renew my visa anyway. I find myself asking: 'why me?' I am convinced that I am jinxed and that no overlander suffers as much as I do. (Which the whole time I know is bullshit self-pity, but it makes me feel good, ok?) For the first time in my trip I find myself envying backpackers. Can you believe it? Here I am; free. On a motorcycle, having the time of my life, but the backpackers are oblivious to how easy things are for them. Who helps the motorcyclist? Who finds us parking / good oil / mechanics / spare parts? Nobody, that's who - and that's why I am doing this, so stuff the backpackers and package tourists and honeymooning locals. I am an overlanding motorcycling freak show and I am proud. (I think this dementia has something to do with being stuck in Saigon, see 'Apocalypse Now' for details) All this is not entirely true. Yesterday I sat down at a café for Lunch in a part of the tourist district of Saigon and overheard a conversation of an ex-pat discussing his BMW motorbike and his mechanic. Within a flash I introduced myself and hey presto! I had a map and directions to my nearest BMW mechanic. So it does sometimes work out. We just need more luck than the others. With any more luck my parts will arrive today and I will be off to get myself a nice dose of grease stains and strained nerves. If I'm lucky." Chris Bright, UK, in Chile again, R100GS,"...you'll be pleased to know that there will be no more long, vaguely c**p episodes venturing into your inbox over the next 4 or 5 months. I plan only to do the usual 'staying in touch' thing. Have been editing my films and words recently. The pictures aren't bad (did a slide show the other day: the audience didn't walk out half way through...). The words on the other hand... did I really write them? Won't be taking a laptop with me this time. Need the space for a spare shock absorber and driveshaft. Will also take 2 new tyres, a timing chain, a diode board, 40 rolls of slide film and a new crash helmet. The plan is to spend all my time in Bolivia, Peru, Colombia and Brazil, with transit through Ecuador and Venezuela, before flying out of Buenos Aires in Mid December... I intend to be the first follicle challenged, fat person of mixed origin, to drive a totally unsuitable lardy overlander, over some bad roads, but essentially nowhere in particular. I will neither drive around the world, nor do a full loop of South America, nor travel down the Amazon in a leaky canoe powered by a bunch of rabid piranhas chasing after my sweaty underpants; and even better... I won't tell anybody about it. A friend (whom I hope does not mind me reprinting this without being credited by name) offered the following advice: 'Jump up and down, give thanks you are free and off to one of the most beautiful places on earth. Ride those wild roads, breathe that cool mountain air and sit in the dirt with real people that will never leave their village. Enjoy the freedom of choice to go or stay. Turn left or right and laugh and have fun... flatter old, fat women. Flirt with young women and take an interest in old people. Play with kids, pet dogs and do not think about tomorrow. Enjoy.' Apart from having a very healthy disrespect for dogs, I could not agree more with this philosophy... ...arrived in Santiago a week ago, so did all my baggage, took a bus to Temuco, spent 2 days messing with the bike, getting nowhere, then paid 50 bucks to a nice man and got the bike sorted: shiny happy timing chain, no more nasty engine noises, carbs set up: great fuel efficiency: AND drove 450 very straight miles from Temuco to Santiago yesterday. Will chill today and head north tomorrow (Sunday 29th). Should be in Uyuni about 7 to 10 days from now. Then I plan to bimble around Bolivia for a few weeks. Precise routing unknown..." Mariola Cichon, USA, aiming to be the first American woman to ride solo around the world, in Alaska, USA, KLR650"Tuesday, 24th of July, Fairbanks, Alaska ...So far this journey has proven to be the most amazing experience of my entire life. I suppose the fact that I am a woman plays a big role here as well, since the response I am getting from people has a lot to do with my gender. Sometimes people cannot believe I am riding on my own, since quite often there are other bikers around me. The most common questions asked are 'how far', 'how long on the road', 'are you really alone', 'aren't you afraid'...
I left on Tuesday morning, the 17th of July. The weather for the previous 2 days was absolutely perfect... the moment I reached Fairbanks... it started raining, and I mean raining!!!! Oooops... I thought... perhaps I should turn around and try tomorrow? The Dalton highway leading to Deadhorse and Prudhoe Bay is almost 500 miles long, of which only 50 miles are paved. I got thoroughly wet in about 45 minutes, and was really pissed. About 20 miles after the pavement ends there is an Arctic Circle Trading Post on the Dalton. This is where I put on all the rain gear and also plastic bags inside my boots. By then the bike was already totally covered with mud... correction... it was covered with what looked like mud but actually was brown greasy butter like substance! At that stop I again seriously considered turning around, since everyone I talked to about Dalton warned me that the road turns to sort of a nightmare when wet.
On the Klondike Highway (NOT the Dalton) Well, I thought, I came 10,000 miles to do this, and I am not turning around, unless it would be absolutely unavoidable. By the way, soon after I stopped caring about the mud... there was no point, since mud was absolutely everywhere... I did not have much experience when it comes to riding in mud prior to this trip, so it was kind of new to me. Actually, after I got a bit used to it, it was even fun! I experimented with riding standing, sitting, slow, faster. None of it was very good, since the surface of the road was really slippery, and the bike was dancing around all over the place. Good thing I left most of my load in North Pole, and just took the absolutely necessary items (it turned out later I did not take enough stuff... like a spare tire for that matter). After reaching the Arctic Circle the weather improved, but the road stayed wet. In sections where it was not wet from the rain, it was wet from all the water dumped by water trucks! ...the Arctic Circle, Latitude 66.33. It was one of the kind feelings to stand there, at the circle, where the true arctic begins, and where not too many of us are fortunate to go. Not that it looked any different than the surroundings. At this latitude you still have spruce trees growing all over the place. Right around that area the road suddenly deteriorated to pure misery. It was due to so-called constructions, where huge trucks would dump loads of fresh dirt, water trucks then would go and wet it, and you have to ride on it. We are talking about something that is at least a foot deep and lasts for quite a few miles. It was not fun being followed by a bunch of trucks driven by impatient men eager to get to Deadhorse on time. I vowed to myself to get to the end of the line next time. The flag lady wanted to do me a favor putting me in front, so I would not get sprayed with all this dirt and hammered by rocks flying around, but it was not a good idea. Once this misery ended the road became fairly good and I was able to ride with considerable speed of about 60 mph. If it had not been for many picture stops, I would have made it up to Coldfoot in a pretty good time regardless of the mud and all... So, I must have stopped at least 20 times, since soon after the Arctic Circle the scenery improved significantly. I reached the settlement of Coldfoot around 5PM. Coldfoot is little more than a truck stop. It is conveniently located in the middle of the Dalton, but it is quite ugly and very, very expensive. There is a lodge there, which charges whopping $140 for a room. And I am not talking about the 4 star place here at all... all you get is 2 single beds in a cubicle and a small bathroom with a shower. The cafeteria serves good food (also expensive), and portions are quite large. Not too many people know though that there is another place about 15 miles north of Coldfoot. It is a tiny village of Wiseman (population 25!), which sits about 3 miles west of the Dalton (there is a sign there). There is not much to Wisemen aside from some cool looking old cabins and some wonderful people. However, they have a small lodge there ($55 single, $75 double) and a BB (whole 4-6 people cabin $160 or so). Also, 4.5 miles north of Coldfoot there is a great campground, Marion Creek where sites are $8. No services, just toilet and water, but you can easily sneak into the lodge at Coldfoot and have a shower there. I was the only motorcyclist on the road going up the Dalton that day. Going south later I bumped into tons of other bikers.
The Klondike Highway (NOT the Dalton) ...Leaving the next morning the weather was relatively good. The road starts to climb through Brooks Range soon after. What amazing scenery! I don't think too many people realize that the challenge of riding the Dalton is generously rewarded by nature, with a most awesome display of its best attire. As you climb over the pass, you quite often have to pass the many trucks, since they go much slower at this section. But do not hold your breath, since once they go over the pass, there is a good chance you will be the one passed. And you better get off the road, or at least slow down, since a whole bunch of rocks is going to be thrown right at you. As you go to the mountains you suddenly realize that there are absolutely no more trees around you at all. This is true for the rest of the road, which is over 240 miles to Deadhorse. You are in the arctic, where the caribou and muskox roam, and where the only sound comes from the wind and the passing traffic. Amazingly open space, tons of streams and puddles, lots of wild flowers. The terrain gradually flattens out as you approach the 'true and wild north'. Some sections of the road were quite good, actually a 40 mile section right before Coldfoot was even paved. But soon after the mountains the road deteriorates again and lots of cantaloupe size rocks are laying around everywhere. And, of course, there is more construction on the way. About 30 miles before reaching Deadhorse I heard a loud 'thump' noise coming from under the bike. I stopped, puzzled, since there were no rocks laying around anywhere over there. I did not see anything, so I continued. I learned much later that what I heard was my water canteen falling down. Not a big deal if it had not been for the fact that prior to falling the canteen had managed to get loose and wedged itself between the right side of the rear tire and the aluminum side box, which cause the rubber to be stripped entirely off the side of the tire... and I mean to the bare cords. However, I did not find this out until reaching Coldfoot on the way back. And now I consider this fact to be fortunate, since had I known it I would have probably panicked. ...There is no campground at Deadhorse, however, I heard that you can set up your tent next to the airport. Unfortunately, I was strongly advised by the local people not to do that, since there are a whole bunch of grizzly bears roaming around in town, and we are not talking about a small number either... there are close to 70 bears out there! After giving a considerable thought to my options I decide to put the plastic to use and rented a room in the Caribou Inn, one of the 3 hotels in town, and the only one with the general store next to it. The room was of the same quality as I usually encounter in hostels, maybe even worse. And it cost $90! But I had a roof over my head and I was quite happy at that moment. I have signed up for the trip to the Arctic Ocean, since access to it is prohibited to private vehicles. And if you are thinking that somehow you will go around it you are wrong. Many have tried and many had to turn around disappointed. This is a high security area over here, since the oil drilling operations take place all over the Prudhoe Bay area. The shuttle costs $25 and the trip last about 1.5 hours. On the way you will see a small portion of the oil fields, and functions of all the structures will be explained by a knowledgeable bus driver. I think the trip is an absolute must. The ocean itself is nothing like the Pacific or Atlantic down south. It is rugged and cold and not very pretty. But it is The Arctic Ocean; I still get shivers when I think about it. I took a picture of the GPS reading right there, by the ocean. It read N 70.18.893 and W 148.21.71. I think this is the farthest north I will ever travel in my life. Unless some day I will decide to visit the North Pole (the real north Pole), which lies only 1360 miles to the north from Prudhoe Bay." Babe and Yahoo, (Jane Norris and David Banbury) UK, in South America on Honda Transalps,"Bolivia... The road from Santa Cruz is virtually all tarmac and once it reaches the edge of the flat jungle basin with its many villages, speed bumps and kids it winds its way up a lush forested range with towering cliffs and tumbling rivers. This is the road we came into Santa Cruz on but then it was shrouded in dense wet cloud. Now we were going back to check out the ruins of Samaipata and the sky was bluest blue. The view from Samaipate was breathtaking and the 3000 year old dwellings had some of the best locations you could ever wish for, but I'm afraid it was the long tight corner sequences that set my heart thumping that day. For Gerhard, our German companion, it was a different experience that got his heart going. On our way back through the dozens of villages around Santa Cruz one of the kids playing by the road suddenly ran right into the side of his bike as he rode past! We were going slowly thanks to the speed bumps but the 4 year old was knocked to the ground and hit his head when he fell. It is a sickening thing to happen, but luckily it wasn't any more serious than needing a couple of stitches. We stopped and Jane accompanied the casualty to the village medical center while Gerhard and I became the uneasy focus of a gathering crowd. Once Jane returned and we were happy the kid was receiving treatment we decided to continue on our way but certain elements of the crowd had other ideas and tried to stop us demanding cash. Gerhard being so clearly blameless we dismissed these claims and pushed our way back to the road. None of us felt very happy riding back towards town and when we were flagged down by cops at a checkpoint we knew what it was about. You could tell it wasn't your usual check by the way they unbuttoned their gun holsters as we approached! (We reckon cops here have to buy their own guns because they all have something different. Buttless pump-action shotguns are popular but we've seen everything from an ancient bolt-action rifle to modern machine guns and a stray Kalashnikov. These guys were just sporting pistols.) Someone in the village had phoned the cops and obviously spun a horror story about foreigners indiscriminately mowing down kids and riding off. We were public enemies. We emphatically stated the facts (thank God I've picked up a basic grasp of the language) and luckily for us the more senior cop seemed to believe us. He confiscated Gerhard's passport though and made us wait for the kid's parents who were on their way down to the local hospital to have the stitches done. As an illustration of how concerned they were about the child, they came to the police station first to argue about money. (Perhaps the effect of a lack of state health system to pay for the hospital costs.) It was clear we wouldn't get away without parting with some cash while they still had Gerhard's passport however blameless he was. It became a struggle on our behalf to make sure anything we did pay was really for the benefit of the boy and not for the pockets of the police or parents. We fought every demand to pay cash directly to the cops or parents and instead accompanied them to the hospital where we paid the efficient hospital staff directly. Unfortunately we were told the pharmacy was shut so we had to give the parents cash for the prescribed pills which may or may not have been purchased. When the family left the cops still held the passport and started demanding that we pay them too! They even went so far as to point out that they could arrest and hold us for 8 hours or we could take the matter to the traffic police in Santa Cruz where they could hold us for 2 days. They had no statements, no signatures, not a single official document so we called their bluff and agreed to go to HQ which promptly halved the requested amount. ... A change of scene gave us time to recover as we headed deep into the Amazon jungle for a week. We were a group of 7 plus 3 guides on a flat bottomed wooden boat with a small outboard motor and a tarpaulin roof. It was a really interesting trip. We got to see all sorts of animals as well as seeing how people live along the river from the farms and river traders to the hunters and poachers. We saw plenty of caymans (crocodiles), monkeys, giant otters, capybara (like a cross between a pig and a rat), foxes and all sorts of birds including huge heron, bright colored macaws and dazzling king fishers. In the water we saw river dolphins and a big ray as well as catching catfish and piranha to eat. It was great but after several days the bench seats and incessant buzz of the motor started to overcome the novelty and wonder. We were always happy to get to camp in the evening where our guides pitched tents and cooked great food. We even had comfortably cool weather that reduced the number of animals about but virtually eliminated mosquitoes! In the deep jungle the endless variety of the trees and plants surrounded us with an aura of lush tranquillity the expanse of which is more felt and heard than seen. What with the hammocks and fresh picked fruit it was all quite idyllic but we did feel a bit disappointed by the lack of information from our guides. When we asked them things they would spin elaborate fabrications and by the last day their input was reduced to pointing to anything that moved saying 'pavo' (turkey). ... The relatively major road (from the Brazilian border to Santa Cruz) was in a shocking state. Some sections were totally unmade such as the long diversion from a washed out road bridge. The trucks that use the road had just driven a track miles across scrub, forest and bare rock to a railway bridge which they use instead. Bouncing over the track & sleepers is no worse than the road. Even the made sections of the road are awful. Much of it is just clay, which is squelched into interwoven ruts when wet and then sets rock hard in the sun. The dry clay is then ground into fine dust that lies inches deep across big sections of the road and feels like water to ride through! It hides the ruts and is swept up into an impenetrable cloud with every passing vehicle. (Luckily there aren't too many.) At one point we reached a section that had just been rained on. There was no warning, the surface just turned to sticky mud and we slid and slithered for 100m until I stopped and Jane fell over. It was punishing on the bikes and when we eventually reached potholed asphalt we found Jane's bike had another puncture but, worse, the rear suspension had collapsed! We limped into Santa Cruz and hauled the bikes back up the hotel steps. Closer inspection showed that the bolt connecting the bottom of the shock to the suspension linkage had come loose allowing the shock to jump out of position. This bent the bottom mounting points and the crooked loading damaged the seals, losing all the damping oil. With our knowledge of Santa Cruz bike shops we knew we could get the mounting points straightened out but rebuilding the shock was out of the question. There was no chance of getting a replacement locally either, as they just don't have bikes like these. They do, however, have them in Germany and we had Gerhard, our German connection. He got his sister Barbara to buy a second hand replacement and send it by courier to La Paz. It cost US$180 all up but it was our best option. All we had to do was get to La Paz with a slightly bent un-damped shock. Luckily the road to La Paz is one of the few well-paved roads in Bolivia. There are a few 'geologically unstable' sections that don't have asphalt but what can you do if it slips off the side of the hill every year? Cochabamba is about half way between Santa Cruz and La Paz and about half way up from the humid jungle to the freezing altiplano. It's agreeable climate, varied surrounds and easy going feel make it a popular city with travelers. The other highlight of Cochabamba is, according to Gerhard, 'the big cheeses'. It took us a while to figure out that he was actually referring, in his German accent, to the large statue of Christ that stands (5mm taller than the one in Rio) on a hill above town. We took the cable car up to the big Jesus and the view was OK but we decided the crude concrete construction was best seen from a distance... La Paz is a nice city with everything we needed: A UPS office to receive the shock, a cheap hotel with indoor parking (up steps) and cheap food. We can live on about US$4 each while waiting for the delivery which is just as well because our financial situation is now very tight and delivery was delayed by the annual 'La Paz Day' celebrations. These consisted of dozens of marching bands and troops of baton twirling majorettes parading the streets in every direction. The bands are of varying musical accomplishment but the girls with sticks are all dressed in very short dresses and white knee high kinky boots. The parades are followed by a loud midnight street party for the youth with stages competing for the biggest stacks of speakers. Before the festivities we rode out of town to the ruined temples of Tiahuanaco reputed to be up to 2500 years old. They lie on a wide plain near lake Titicaca and have some really impressive stonework. It was a beautiful day and the peace of the plain was soothing after the bustle of La Paz. On the way home, however, the peace was shattered along with the windows of a bus in front of us by protesters hurling rocks! This has become a regular occurrence on Bolivia's main roads over the last few months as the 'campesinos' (country folk) protest about government policy particularly regarding coca. A few kms past the unfortunate bus we encountered a big queue of traffic and lots of people telling us we couldn't proceed. A blockade, the other weapon of the campesinos. Everybody was telling us to stop and turn around, as there was stone throwing ahead but, with our usual scepticism we had to go and see for ourselves. We have never been stopped by a blockade yet. We passed dozens of vehicles, hundreds of passengers including stranded day tours from La Paz but when we got to the front there was just an empty road. Trucks were turning around and everyone was still telling us to retreat but we wanted to hear it from the blockaders themselves. We continued up the road slowly and as non-threateningly as we could. After a km or so we crested a rise and just saw more empty road. We rode on for another km or so to the next crest where we finally found the blockade. The road was covered for 200m with stones and rocks which would be impossible for a 4-wheeled vehicle but which we could weave carefully through on the bikes. There were bits of old car wrecks and a single burning tyre but no people. Looking up to our left we found them, a couple of hundred campesinos on top of the hill watching their creation, and us. They were too far off to get aggressive or to talk to so we just started slowly threading our way between the obstacles watching them for any reaction. It was tense but there was no shouting, no signal, no movement from them at all and we thanked again their attitude to bikes as not real vehicles. After these obstructions the road was clear and deserted again for a km or so until over the next crest we found the waiting traffic from the other direction. As we approached a crowd gathered to ask us about the situation and congratulate. We were the only vehicles to get through. Heros to some. Even the lone token police car waved us over to hear our report. The single burning tyre seemed to be what impressed them most, the description of which brought on much tutting and sucking through teeth. That was Friday 13th and, as far as we can work out, the blockade still stands and features on the TV daily. It was certainly an unlucky date for those day-trippers out from La Paz. We are still in La Paz stalled, not by blockades, but by UPS's failure to deliver our new shock. Tomorrow, they reckon, 'Manana'. Once we get it we're off to the beach. All that stands in the way is the entire Amazon Basin... " More stories... Harald and Udo Lamers, the Bike Brothers, Netherlands, through Asia on Suzuki DR 600s, in Iran and Pakistan"When we enter Iran we have some scary moments. The car drivers pass us with high speed and one inch away from the bikes. When we calm down a bit the next car is flying by. As we keep to the speed limits of 50 km/h, they race in to town at 100 km/h. They drive like crazy. When traffic from the other direction is overtaking another car they only blink their lights and horn and expect that we move aside. And we do, otherwise we couldn't tell this... 'Do they hate foreigners?' we ask ourselves. But after some time we see that they all act this way. That explains why there are 14,000! road killings in Iran every year. Everybody in the traffic is horning and blinking at us, because we have our headlights on. So they do see us but they are trying every time to drive us off the road. Other country, other habits, we think. Later we hear that to get your drivers license in Iran you drive! to the police station. There you have to drive the street up and down and if you can make this you have your license. One time a bus is passing us and when the black diesel fumes are vanished an arm comes out the window of the bus and a trashcan is emptied. Fruit peels and plastic cola bottles are flying along our helmets. Idiots! And we are carrying our trash the whole day to dump in a right place. ...We visit some interesting, historical sites, like the beautiful blue Emam mosque in Esfahan and the ruins of Persepolis. The landscape is quite boring, it is one big desert and all the rivers are dry. There is a drought for 3 years.
A little confusion here guys, only women have to cover their heads! ;) When we leave Bam in east Iran we have to stop at a checkpoint. We are not allowed go further. First we don't understand because the local people can drive further. But then they explain it is too dangerous and the policeman makes a gesture that he is cutting his throat. We have to wait for the escort. So it is only dangerous for travellers? Why are they so worried about us now, when they try to kill us 10 times a day in traffic? After 2 hours a militair on a 175 cc Honda arrives. He is our escort. He is 1.70 m tall and has no gun. Wow, we feel safe now. He says that we can start our bikes and he will follow us. After a few kilometres he is getting behind and a little time later we don't see him anymore. We stop and drive back but the militair is disappeared. Did he become afraid? We decide to drive on, alone. That night we camp near the road and the next morning we drive without problems to the border with Pakistan.
...Hot, very hot it is today. We take a break and have a drink. The 1.5 litre cola bottle is empty in 5 minutes. We only take a short break because we want to cross this desolate desert in 2 days. We are in western Pakistan, in Baluchistan. This desert province is poorly developed and according to our guidebook the tribal people here have their own laws and in the past travellers were kidnapped. But the route Taftan (border Iran) to Quetta is open and safe. We put on our motor jacket, helmet and gloves. Even before starting the bike we are soaking in our sweat. If we drive away we feel the sweat evaporating and this gives a real cool feeling. Only for some minutes. Then we feel the hot desert air again. Like we are riding in an oven. At night, when we pitch our tent and after some cups of tea we look at our thermometer and it is still 38 degrees centigrade. That means during the day the temperature will rise to 50. On our route we see some camels and ask ourselves where they find their water because all the rivers are dry. At a crossing we are forced to stop by a lot of people. One man shouts at us that we are not allowed to go on because yesterday a man was shot by the police.
Khunjerab Pass He wanted water to irrigate his land. There is a drought for 3 years and the Pakistan government does nothing about it. So this tribe blocks all the traffic until the government comes with a solution. Even if it takes weeks. We park our bikes and Harald goes with the leader to a little house to negotiate. Udo stays with the bikes to guard them. The men are real close around the bikes and they all have a mean look in their eyes. Like if Udo is the problem. They wear the shalwar kameez, wide trousers with a long shirt and tulbands on their heads. They just look like Ali Baba and his 40 robbers... Udo feels threatened and is afraid that the situation is going out of control. Then there is a lot of shouting and men are running to a bus. The bus wanted to drive away but the men are hammering with their fists on the bus till the driver stops. Udo realizes that we can go nowhere. We are taken hostage. After 2 hours Harald comes back and tell that they are waiting for the police from Quetta. Then they will talk about a solution. We wait at our bikes and try to keep the men away. Everything they touch, push buttons or are turning the throttle. We are getting desperate. Finally the police arrive and Harald goes back to the house where the leader is. After one hour he comes back and tells that there is no solution. But he arranged that we can have some food and a place to sleep. Under police escort (again!) we drive through the crowd along the rocks and burning car tyres. One km further in a little village we stop at a restaurant. The policeman orders some food for us. After a few minutes we get dry bread and mineral water. Like in prison... Then we are escorted to a hotel and we can park the bikes safe in the backyard. The friendly hotel servant brings us some tea and mangos. How long will this take? After a sleepless night the servant tell us that the roadblock is finished and that we can go. Still a bit tense, we drive up to the crossing. Only some rocks and smoking tyres reminds of the incident. We open the throttle wide and drive to freedom. ... From Chitral we make first an excursion into the Kalash valley. The Kalash people are a non-Muslim minority from about 3000 people. In their perception the nature belongs to other beings than themselves. So, by making sacrifices and praying they ask permission to let their cattle graze or cut a tree. Jinnah, the man from the Kalash family where we are staying, gives us a tour in his village. The wooden huts are built on the slopes of the mountains and the roof is used as a terrace by the house above. On the terraces lay fruits spread to dry. The women wear wide black dresses with yellow-red-white bordered finishing. On their heads they wear a round hat with a long tail over their back to cover their long hair. It is decorated with pearls, buttons and shells. They also wear dozens of necklaces that will only be taken off by a widow during mourning. The Shandour pass (3718 m). The gravel road is one car wide, exists of big rocks and is worn out by the car tyres so that in the middle a wall of 20-cm high wall is made. Left there is the mountain and on the right side the canyon with the river. We trail in first gear over the rocks and are very concentrated. One little mistake can be fatal. When we stop we have time to enjoy the views at the mountains. The last 600 meter to the summit we have a few sharp and steep hairpins and Harald's Suzuki has problems to pull through. (Probably because of less compression by worn out cylinder of the 160,000! km old engine). Harald revs up and Udo is pushing at the back and pushes him through the first hairpin. Then we drive 100 meter and there is another hairpin. Till three times Udo has to push Harald's bike. Totally exhausted we reach the summit of the Shandour. The summit is wide and flat and at the Shandour hotel we take a coke and come back to life. We are glad that we made it so far but realizing that the way down can also be difficult.
Shandour Later that afternoon Udo is so exhausted that within 50 meters he drops his bike 3 times. Now it is time to stop. We pitch our tent and make a nice noodle soup. The whole day we drove in first gear. We both agreed that this is the toughest part we drove on our Suzuki's. Our hands hurt from the bouncing steering and we feel the muscles in our back from balancing on the bike. And we still have 200 km to go... See you on the road..."
Truckers on the KKH Ed. Harald and Udo have published a book about their travels in Africa (Dutch only), available through their website. Daniel Todd, Puerto Rico, USA, on his second around the world tour, in Vietnam, 1998 KLR650"As I descended into Bangkok in the cockpit of a 757, I noticed lots of evidence of recent rain and thought that the Southwest monsoon must be in full swing. I had left my bike here after my first global ride that took me across every Continent except Australia. I wasn't worried about the tropical bursts of rain as much as crossing deep, muddy roads in Cambodia. I soon learned it is only possible to enter Vietnam in the North. The reason for this is that in recent years many motorbikes were stolen from Thailand and brought to Vietnam via Cambodia. The only way to completely ride Indochina is to do a clockwise circle starting in Thailand, on to Laos, enter Vietnam in the North, ride South along the China Sea, on to Cambodia and back into Thailand. So I would have to cross Cambodia later in the monsoon season. I later learned that the 'National Highway #6' was already under water in places and most of the bridges were out, but there was an alternate route... Vietnam requires you to put the exact date and location of entry and exit on the visa application. In my jet-lagged induced state of confusion, I put a premature date of entry. I immediately realized my mistake, but when I went back to the agency to change the date, they told me it was too late and that if I turned up at the border more than one day late, I would be refused entry! And this was for a 30 day visa that costs US$53. And then there was the Thailand/Laos border dilemma. Since my bike had been in Thailand almost five months over the 30 days that customs gave me, my destiny was in the hands of the person manning this customs post. So the routing of my new journey was as unsure as ever (it's never set in stone anyway) and these were just a new set of obstacles that gave this journey a new sense of adventure! As Bangkok tower came on the radio and cleared us for the ILS Runway 21, I thought 'here we go again'! The first thing I did was take a taxi to Dynamic Motors where my friend Yut Yong had stored my bike. I wanted to drop off the two large duffel-bags of parts and the two new tires that I had carried from the other side of the world. It was there that I ran into Thomas Peck and Carmen and Frank Fink, three more overlanders that I had met in Islamabad last year. It was a merry reunion and they gave me a lift over to the Bamboo Guesthouse, one of the only places in Bangkok that had room for bikes. Is the world really that small a place? Not really. Most overlanders are European and they usually start their overland journey on the same trans-Asian path that takes them halfway around the world without having to crate or ship their bikes. In addition, they all seem to leave Europe about the same time to take advantage of global weather patterns. This 'gringo trail' bottlenecks in the Islamabad campground where everyone prepares for the world-class journey up the Karakoram Highway. In the last year, I have had the grand pleasure of meeting almost every biker on the HorizonsUnlimited website that is riding Asia! Most of us stay in touch and the Internet is bringing us bikers closer together everyday. At the Bamboo guesthouse, I also met two more bikers, Jan and Daniel from East Germany, who were splitting up after almost a year on the road together. Jan, one more accident victim from the roads of India, had been laid up with a punctured lung, and was almost financially broke. We decided to ride out towards Cambodia where he could get his carnet stamped and I could go on to Laos. The first two days we saw two of the greatest ancient civilizations in Southeast Asia; Ayuthaya, where three great Buddhist Stupas are lined up in a row and Phonom Rung, a Khmer temple built on top of an extinct volcano near the Cambodian border. After parting ways, I rode out the 'Emerald Triangle', where Thailand, Laos and Cambodia all meet and another Khmer Temple sits on top of a 600-meter cliff with awesome views of Cambodia and the surrounding escarpments. The temple is actually inside Cambodia, but you are allowed entry with a Thai-visa. These ancient Khmer ruins were used as military post for the Khmer Rouge until opened to the public only a few years ago. There were cannons and underground bunkers with several racks of live, unexploded bombs! The lower hillside was littered with spent bomb casings and surrounding area is known to have many active mines, so walking off the main paths is highly unrecommended! There was also underground bunkers, which the Khmer Rouge used to hide, and barbed wire and other military hardware is still stored! I did not see one western tourist. The irony of the Thailand 'tourist trail' is that most foreigners visit about five main places; Bangkok, Chang Mai and the beaches in the South. But Thailand is so much more than that, boasting hundreds of national parks and temples off the main path, just waiting to be explored. From this corner of Thailand, across Laos and into Vietnam, I didn't see one foreigner until I got to Hanoi!
Laos Monk, 1999 trip I pulled off the road just before the Laos border to take out my oil filter and check my oil. In Bangkok, I had found lots of metal flakes under the oil filter after the bike had been stored these past months. Yut and I took a magnet to the layer of flecks and discovered that they were of aluminum properties. We concluded that they had come off one of the aluminum cases near the crankshaft, as a result of storing the bike. While Yut had turned over the engine several times during storage, this was not enough and oil had not reached these parts. I changed the oil and would have to keep an eye on this. Luckily, when I opened the oil filter cover 300 miles down the road, all the flakes were gone. The irony is that I never meant to change the oil, but was simply taking the filter out to find a replacement in Bangkok, since this was the only part on practically the whole bike that I had forgot to bring with me! At the Thai customs post the officer didn't even look at the date on my Carnet from six months ago and I had to explain the stamping procedure to him! He didn't ask for the original Customs declaration form and I didn't bother showing it as I knew it would only complicate matters concerning the time my bike was in the country. Soon I was riding through Southern Laos and it seemed like all my problems were dissolving all by themselves until the road turned into a dirt ditch. Suddenly I heard a WACK, WACK, WACK! I reasoned that I had lost my rear suspension, which was highly disappointing, since this is not a part that is easy to carry or find. When the road turned to pavement again, the bike continued to bounce up and down like a yo-yo, so I decided to really lean the bike over and check the handling. Suddenly the back end started washing out really bad and I almost went over, getting the daylights scared out of me in the process. I pulled over to see what was going on. A spent ammunition casing had wedged itself into my new Metzeler Tourance tire, which was now very flat! One very serious defect that the KLR 650 has is that the rear rim was manufactured a couple centimetres larger than a standard 17" tire, which makes changing a flat almost impossible unless you carry a clamp to break the tire bead. This only solves half the problem, since after the repair, the tire does not want to pop back out all the way. This was a real pain in Africa and it wasn't until I talked to experienced bike mechanics who owned KLRs, that I understood that it was NOT the tire, but the rim that is faulty. Changing the front tire is no problem at all. This, of course, is the reason that my back always goes flat! The next day I turned east and crossed the mountains that separate Laos and Vietnam. This was a spectacular ride with lots of rivers and large rock formations. At the border, Laos customs informed me that my stamp in my carnet was not from Laos customs. Were they implying that I had forged my bike into the country illegally? After talking to every officer in the building, I cleared the matter and started towards the Vietnamese side. I knew this would be a lengthy procedure, so I started procedures in Immigration and Customs at the same time, leaving the required documents with both. At least I had managed to arrive within the time frame required on the visa inside my passport. The immigration officer wanted money for the 'stamp' in my passport. Of course, there was no receipt forthcoming and this was corruption at its finest, but I didn't see any way out of it so I passed him some Laos currency. Apparently, he was looking for dollars, because the look on his face was not very happy. I further explained that I had already paid over 50$ US for a 30 day visa and that this was wrong of him to try and extort money from a foreigner. I picked up my passport and headed towards Customs where I had already made some new friends with light conversation and jokes. Here, I didn't have any problems at all; in fact they didn't charge me a thing to bring my bike into Vietnam. They were friendly and professional and welcomed me with large smiles. But when I returned to my bike, Mr. Immigration was waiting for me. He ordered me to unpack all my luggage and bring it to the 'sitting room'. I could feel the blood vessels in my neck about to burst, but I kept my cool, since I knew I wouldn't be doing myself any favors if I got angry. Instead, using a little psychology, I told him that I had not finished with Customs and went back to ask all my friends if they would come out and see me off. Mr Immigration must have felt pretty small as I got on my bike with a large crowd waving and cheering me off into Vietnam. When the gate swung open and I entered Vietnam, I felt like I was riding the edge or breaking on through to the other side! When I first came to Vietnam five years ago, it was not possible to bring a bike into the country, so those who have ridden Vietnam these last years are among the first. It was what my friend Yut calls a 'black and white border crossing' because it's a different world on the other side. It's a stark contrast to Laos which has a population of 4 million. Vietnam has 85 million, so soon I found myself in the land of bicycles and other thick traffic all around me. From the border I had a blissful descent into Vietnam off the mountains on a perfectly paved road and I revelled in it. I entered Vietnam near Vihn, the narrowest part of the Country where within an hour, I was already near the South China Sea. In all my third world travels, I thought I had seen every type of animal herded down the main highways until Vietnam, where I saw large flocks of tamed ducks being peacefully herded down the road. Vietnam is a country incredibly rich in history and culture and there is always something interesting to look at. Riding Vietnam is like India in that the highways are super crowded and extremely hazardous. And since there are no bikes larger than 250cc, everyone wants to climb all over your bike and flip the switches, 'looking with their hands'. You have to remember to always take the key out of your bike, even if you are standing right next to it, because many admirers want to honk your horn and flip the starter switch! So for now, I'm in the motorbike junkyards of Hanoi, looking for a seal from another shock absorber that would potentially fit my bike. Shipping a new shock to Vietnam would be outlandishly expensive since there is a 75% import tax. This would put the price of a new shock from Kawasaki at over US$1200 plus shipping! I'll probably have it shipped to Bangkok instead. Until then, all the best and see you down the road a piece! Daniel"
Thanks!
Rob and Dafne de Jong, Netherlands, around the world, in Russia, Siberia, Yamaha with sidecar,"July 27, 2001 'Dobre Djen' (Russian). 'There are really only two big things in this world,' Rob said while the aged Russian cruise ship 'Antonya Nezhdanova' slowly moved away from the Japanese Port of Fushiki to start her voyage towards Vladivostok in Russia. 'First there are the oceans.' I look up. 'And then there is Russia!' On board we plunge into the world that is called Russia. Big white-skinned people with blond hair and light eyes. Relations are very open and direct, very much unlike the way things go in Japan. The ship is being loaded with used cars. All decks are full and even on top of what was once the swimming pool cars are hanging on, with the wheels reaching far over the edge but that's no problem: Put a pile of tires underneath and strapped down they will also reach Russia. The loading is supervised by a Japanese who is, according to the rules, dressed in quality overalls, sturdy gloves and a safety helmet. Sweat is rolling down his forehead while he signs the crane driver to lift up the next car.
Our sidecar is loaded onto the Nezhdanova - Japan (photo by Lorenz Kerer) The Russians dealing with the loading grin. They wear sandals and shorts. T-shirts taken off in the hot afternoon. The gangways are full of mopeds, scooters and bicycles, piled up tires everywhere. In the toilets washing machines, ovens and refrigerators. Our sidecar and the two motorcycles of Lorenz and Patrick, the Austrians who are also going to Vladivostok, are put on a nice spot on the deck. We plan to travel together the coming three weeks. The days of glory have long gone for this ship, but the colors and smells, the monotonous sound of the old engines have a good atmosphere and we enjoy the few days at sea to the fullest. The food on board ship is good, at least for our taste, as we are treated to 'Borsht', typical Russian soup with a blob of mayonnaise in it. The Russian bread is really yummy, heavy and whole wheat, like my mother used to bake it. Victor, the engineer on board of the Nezhdanova, invites us to see the engine room. Two 8-cylinder 2-stroke diesels and two enormous generators are working hard. Rob is thrilled as he used to work inside engine-rooms of sea going vessels. ... Vladivostok's motorcycle-club the 'Iron Tigers' had sent two of their members to welcome us to the port. They provide us with a place to sleep in their clubhouse and help us going around Vladivostok while our motorcycles are kept in customs. What a great welcome. Vladivostok itself is a pleasant city, built on several hills around a natural harbor. It takes us 2 days to get our Yammie out of customs. One to cover the problems of a national holiday 'President day' the other to cover the formalities. Although the Iron Tigers stay with us all the time to be there if we need help, we found out that it is better to deal with Customs yourself. Why? A translator can explain a problem and then it will be your problem. No translator means no problems.
Yuri's Dasha near Blagoveshensk with a great view and a greater Banya (photo by Lorenz Kerer) ... The roads are pretty good in Russia and traffic is almost non-existent as soon you leave the city. Rolling hills covered with trees and meadows full of wild flowers: lilies and irises and much more. Now and then small villages where the wooden houses, which mostly date back to before the revolution have very nicely decorated windowpanes and doors. Some of these houses are painted in bright colors, blue and white or yellow. ... It is a busy time of the year in July for the Russians in the villages, who are almost all working on their little plots of land to grow potatoes and veggies. Hay is being put on big stacks to be collected later and it seems that winter, which lasts about 5 months with temperatures dropping as low as -70 Celsius (-90F) is controlling life in Siberia even in mid-summer. It is the land of sidecars too but not for fun though. Our greetings towards other sidecar riders are only seldom returned, as a sidecar is just a mode of transport while the mostly poor owner is dreaming of a car. Although the Trans Siberia Railway is complete the road is not. In winter the missing link is passable because of the frozen rivers and rock-hard mud. This year there is a lot of water so the rivers are high and the mud is deep. Like everybody else here (dealers of used Japanese cars), we also had to decide to cover the stretch of almost 1000 km (app. 600 miles) by train. So in Shimanovsk we set off to find the train station (woksal), but before we could, again we were stopped by police for "dokument kontrol". The officers turned out to be quite nice this time, as they made us follow them at first to an office (a lot of Russian was spoken) and then to the place where every car driver was waiting for his place on the train. Horror stories of people who had already been waiting for a week tempered our enthusiasm to do this ride. After some negotiating however we were able to secure a place on a "postal train" which was a little bit more expensive but at least we were going to leave the same night. Our Yammie and the BMW of Lorenz were easily driven into the cargo area, but then all the space was taken and for Patrick the situation looked grim. 'We shovel it under the truck,'the Russians suggested after we had profoundly turned down the option to put her on top of our sidecar. Finally we managed to squeeze her into a small corridor behind the entry of the small personnel compartment, situated at the end of the carriage. All the car owners on the train have to eat sleep and live inside their cars during the journey that takes up to two/three days. We are so lucky to have been given the use of the only available cabin, in which we even can go horizontal. We traveled together until Ulan Ude, the capital of Siberia, where we arrive in the middle of the 335-years jubilee celebrations and have the pleasure to see Kosacs dancing with bayonets and native Buryat people sing their anthem coming straight from their hearts. Time to say goodbye to Lorenz and Patrick, who are heading for Mongolia. We go to the huge Lake Baikal, where we find a lovely camping spot between shady trees. The water of the lake is crystal clear and very drinkable, so it is said. It's also extremely cold as this is known to be the world's deepest lake (1637 meters or over a mile). ... At the moment we are in Ufa in the Southern Ural, which is more like a group of hills than mountains. Driving through the Ural is a joy to do, as there are many nicely asphalted small winding roads with little traffic and great views. 'Europe is getting close now,' Rob already had said when crossing the Japanese Sea on board the Nezhdanova. Indeed, a few days ago just outside Yekaterineburg we passed a statue marking the borderline of the European territory. Holland is getting very close too, but we try to forget that the days are passing so quickly, to live in the present and enjoy the moment. The coming months are still full of unknown kilometers to explore. We will write about them. A greeting and a smile, Riding on... Rob and Dafne" Ricardo Rocco Paz, Ecuador, "Around the World for Peace," in Argentina,"... We go to the outskirts of town. Not a very nice neighborhood. We stop at a humble house on a dirt street, where a few old trucks and motorcycles lie around. A strange looking old guy comes out, he's wearing funny hat and an even more funny moustache and he's followed by even more funnier looking small dogs. Lalo takes me apart and tell me not to worry, this guy is an excellent mechanic and he charges very cheaply, then introduces me to Mr. Larco. The old guy starts talking about races and then about our common friend, Walter Nosiglia, from La Paz, Bolivia. This conversation calms me down, and we decide to leave the bike in his hands while we go have some lunch, after which I'm supposed to come back to work on the bike with the old guy. We get all the stuff on Lalo's car and head to his house. When we get there I discover horrified that I have left my Aerostitch jacket on Mr. Larco's neighbor's front wall. We drive back as fast as the small car allows, I'm suffering like an idiot, not only would I lose the jacket, but also the bunch of stuff I have inside the pockets, including my wallet. Incredible as it seems, the jacket still is in the same place where I stupidly left it. When I pick up the jacket, a couple of kids from the terrace tell me: 'there is your jacket sir, nobody has touched it'. Of course, the wallet is not in its pocket. Mr. Larco bursts into flame. He kicks open the neighbor houses door and start yelling and screaming to a couple of ladies to return my wallet. Then runs into his house and gets back carrying an old Remington rifle and a single bullet which he loads into the weapon. The ladies inside are crying and saying they didn't take the wallet. My lawyer friend, horrified, orders the old guy to get rid of the rifle, which he then hands to me! I hide the weapon as well as I can in the driveway, since there are a lot of people already gathering to see what the scandal is all about. Then the lady of the house shows up with a video camera directing it to the yelling old guy and us. Oh my god, what a mess! On top of it all, a police truck stops, and Mr. Larco calls the cops and accuses the neighbor lady, saying that she has stolen things from him in the past. OK. OK. I've lost another wallet, but my 'dummy' wallet with originals of my personal documents is safely stored in my clothes backpack. Sorry Dr. Greg! I'm so glad I didn't lose my beloved Aerostitch jacket, that I'm willing to forget about the $150 I had in the wallet. Plus I can get immediate replacement for my credit card. We leave the scene hoping for things to calm down, and when we are back, after an hour or so, the bike seems not to have been touched. Larco comes out smiling, and tells me to go test it. What did you do to it? He tells me I was not going far with my inlet valves almost closed. I test it and she's running great. He even installs a left side view mirror that is missing from the bike. How much? 10 bucks, Thank you very much. 10 bucks plus another stolen wallet." Aviv Rabinovich, Israel, cruising Europe and ?? , in Serbia, KLR650"For the first 2 hours in Yugoslavia I was sorry for coming here. In the border I had to pay 60$ for green card. Some insurance for the bike. Then it took me a while to find a place to change money. Then, after I did find a place to change money, on the 'highway' toll (peage) they only wanted German money. A bit before that I've been stopped by the police for speeding. Good start, I know. Well, 1 by 1. With the police it was weird a little bit because he said I was doing 75 where the limit was 60. I know I was doing 120. Then I realized that he only stops tourists. We spoke a little bit then I asked him what about I go and you forgive. He inhaled and said 'only God forgive'. It was a good one I must say. We were both actually quite amused from this line. Then the other cop stopped a German car and he sent me free. With the toll pay people I was like 'I have Yugoslavian money, I'm in Yugoslavia, I'm going to use this money!' they wanted 7$ for this road. After paying 60$ to get in I promised myself I'm not paying anything for the bike anymore. Well, the guy started to get totally crazy, shouting to me GIVE PASSPORT! , 'I don't give you my passport, this is my passport!?'. Then another one came and shouted too in Serbian... I said I'm going back, great. Hungary is not far back. So while they're shouting I slowly turned the moto and rode back. In about 1 Km I saw an exit from the 'highway' and rode calmly to Novi Sad, my destination for the day, on small roads. I've been told after that that's what everybody does. In Novi Sad, I stop and ask a group of people where is the camping. They tell me to wait till they call an English-speaking girl. 'Sit'. So I sit. They had all kind of bottles on the table and they let me drink a lot of wine. It was an office of hunting tourism so they gave me some hunters dish made of deer meat. Despite the mixed feelings I had about eating hunted animal meat I must say that it was excellent. After they took me to the camping and left. After they left I discovered that I couldn't camp there. I go to the Danube river, sit, think what to do. Then a guy come, look at the bike, look at me, I say hi, and I'm writing this letter from his house. Got a young wife, 4 months old kid and a lot to talk about. I sleep in the 'car wash' under his apartment. He showed me the crushed bridges that Nato had bombed down..." Patrick Lüth and Lorenz Kerer, Austria, through Japan, Russia and Central Asia, in Mongolia on BMW R100GS Paris/Dakars,"...we sat in the sauna, and we began to learn about and understand the Russian culture... ...The four of us (Rob and Dafne) journeyed along the Chinese boarder heading north to Khabarovsk. Dreamlike weather, gentle landscape and idyllic places to spend the nights turned every day into an experience. Finding provisions was no problem at all. Although the choice and variety of foods is not particularly large one always finds the basics (rice and vodka) as well as good cheese, sausage, and fish.
...We headed out on a small discovery trip in western Mongolia. During our wanderings we felt once more the expanse and the emptiness of Mongolia. With the exception of the Jurten, (domed tents), herds of horses and sheep, one comes across very little that lives on the endless grassy hills.
Siberia Blooming open countryside covered in red lilies and fields of edelweiss show us the splendour of this country. That we would meet two other Austrians on BMW motorcycles in the middle of Mongolia certainly was a surprise and a highlight of our tour. Of course we had to properly celebrate this coincidence with Franz and Roman and I am certain that was not the last shared beer..." Dirk Bachmann, Germany, Around the World (2-mad's Global Polio Campaign for UNICEF), in South America, BMW F650,"...At some stages, it was quite cold along the shores of Lake Titicaca. I did some tourism visiting the Uro-Indians on their floating islands, then left for Arequipa. I decided to take the longer route via Desaguadero and Moquegua, which had been paved recently - excellent asphalt! I was delighted when after about 150km at an altitude between 4,000 and 4,800m riding against very strong, cold winds to finally descend to more easily breathable grounds. The following ride through desert-like landscape into the night was spectacular, the sunset beyond description. Arequipa, this pleasant town with the best kebabs in South America, was devastated by an earthquake that reached 7.9 on the Richter scale and lasted a very long 1min 20sec. At that time I was on the first floor of my hostel seeking shelter underneath an arch while watching my motorcycle dancing in the patio below and - with horror - how a crack in the opposite wall above my room began to find its way through the entire side of that building. However, afterwards outside in the streets I was surprised by the relatively little damage that had occurred. Although about 100 people were killed and many more injured this was nothing compared with the trembles in Kobe and also Turkey last year. ...to Cuzco - party town - where Mario, a Catalan from Barcelona, Spain joined us three there. After hearing about our campaign he spontaneously decided to buy himself a motorcycle and help us. 2-mad becoming 3-mad. ...We also managed to get permission to take our motorcycles to the ruins to take some pictures involving the UNICEF logo and a local school class. A world's first! Unfortunately, due to international protests against the use of the road up to the ruins by any motorized vehicles they cancelled it a day before. Nevertheless, the photo session with the kids was an unforgettable experience for everyone involved." Lew Waterman, USA, North and South America 2001-2, KLR650, travelling with Punky, his Yorkie dog,"...see here for an update on Punky's second struggle for life in less than 2 months, this time in Fairbanks, AK. He was attacked by 'Bear', a 135 lb. Malamute following our return from Prudhoe Bay. Peter and Kay Forwood will tell you they know Bear from the North Woods Lodge. I met Peter and Kay here... We are delayed in Fairbanks for about a month, while Punky recovers from major lifesaving surgery. Thanks for the encouragement. Think good thoughts for Punky, the little dog that could -- and does, again and again and... I sent Rider Magazine an outline of our tour and Punky's tragic experiences. Two newspapers have done stories following his death in Moab, Utah. He was resurrected with CPR. I think I will start a new religion and get people praying to Punky. Later." Manou Emringer and Ellen Spencer, Luxembourg and USA, around the world, in Kazakhstan and Russia, (with a flying trip to China)"... We took a plane from Almaty, Kazakhstan to Urumchi, China, heading on to two of the main sights of Xinjiang Province, Kashgar and Turfan. Kashgar was spectacular: It's Sunday market had been described in our guide as one of the most spectacular in Asia, and we were not disappointed. A teeming mass of people from all over Central Asia selling exotic fabrics (much to Ellen's delight), yummy dumplings and piles of noodles and other funky foods, viciously haggling knife sellers, strange hats, it was a great day. ... In one town (in Kazakhstan), Choubar Tyubek, while Ellen was busy negotiating a room, I walked down to the beach and was immediately grabbed (literally!!) by a very loud group who seemed to like my boots. They offered me vodka, serenaded me on a balalaika, and seemed scandalized at the thought that I would not immediately finish the bottle. I had a hard time getting away from their rather aggressive brand of hospitality. Luckily, much more relaxing welcomes were offered shortly afterwards. As I went to buy some supplies, I was invited for a drink by a friendly Russian who proposed to meet us for dinner that evening along with his family. We were unfortunately a bit late for dinner because in the meantime we had yet again been invited by a Kazakh policemen to celebrate with his family and friends on the beach, eating smoked fish and drinking, guess what? Dinner proceeded along the same general lines, accounting for the fact that we left rather late the following day. Great people. Shortly before Karaganda, Ellen's motor died and would not be revived. We called Sergei, a casual acquaintance in Almaty, asking if he could help. 20 minutes later, two Ladas driven by what looked suspiciously like bodyguards shrieked to a halt, 5 people jumped out and analyzed the situation. One of the tough guys and an interpreter were delegated to stay with us until the problem was solved. A shop was identified, the bike delivered to the attention of about 10 people displaying varying degrees of productivity, the problem was solved (turned out to be bad gas) and we were on the road again the same day. ... We crossed the border into Russia, passing through Kurgan and Chelyabinsk, rode over the Ural mountains and headed on through Ufa, Naberezniye Celny, Kazan, Niznij Novgorod and Suzdal, before reaching Moscow. Before planning for this trip, we had never heard of most of these cities, so it came as a bit of a surprise to discover that most of them had well over a million inhabitants. Unfortunately, that was about the only interesting thing about the first four cities we passed. Grey concrete, high pollution and a population visibly suffering from Russia's current economic troubles more or less sums up our impressions. One more impression does stand out: the absolutely spectacular unpleasantness of some of the hotel personnel we encountered. We were dumbfounded at the way some of these characters seem to hate their customers. It's not limited to tourists either; there's enough of it for everybody. Among other things, it was the various floor ladies' way of knocking (especially early in the morning), a loud, vicious, impatient hammering on the door that would send us up the walls. One particularly unpleasant and completely drunk specimen managed to wake us up three times between 6.00 and 7.00 a.m., asking us when we were leaving, forgetting the answer, and coming back to ask again. I was ready to do something drastic but Ellen wouldn't let me. ... As we drove further west, the cities became more interesting. Especially Kazan, the capital of the semi-autonomous region of Tatarstan, as well as Suzdal have a rich history and the monuments to prove it. We were back into sightseeing mode and spent some time wandering around, admiring the sights. The roads became increasingly choked with traffic, street signs were notably absent, and speed limitations were not posted but heavily enforced by speed traps. We collected three speeding tickets in as many days, doubling our total for the trip. Luckily, the rates are reasonable for our standards, 100 rouble, about three dollars. The policemen were quite a pleasant surprise, since none tried to squeeze us for a bribe. Same thing at checkpoints, we would usually get waved through.
We rode on to Moscow. Sergei Krivogonov, a motocross racer, gave us a quite unusual but fabulous tour of some sights; including his training ground (where he did a few jumps on his bike, fully dressed up in a business suit); a biker club's den with a very large motorcycle; as well as the nightly gathering place of Muscovite bikers. Moscow is a rather funky place, totally unlike anything we had seen in Russia so far. It's very expensive, with plenty of trendy restaurants and nightclubs filled with well-dressed people dancing their hearts out. We only stayed for a couple of days, visiting some of the more traditional sights as well, before heading north again, towards St. Petersburg which is certainly the most touristy town in Russia, and justifiably so. While Moscow is the political and economic heart of the country, Piter (as we heard some Russians affectionately call it) is its cultural centre. A fascinating history, spectacular architecture and the famous St. Petersburg white nights (it was only dark about four hours a day) combined to make it a place to come back to. A careful estimate of the time needed to visit all the places we would like to visit or revisit yields a total of about four reincarnations, and that's not counting the time we will spend as warthogs for sins committed in this life. We'll see." |
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Looking for a travel book? you can go to our Books pages, where we have listed some of the best motorcycle travel books, as well as a number of BMW books, general motorcycle books, and travel guides. Very much in progress, with hundreds more to come, but there is a good list to start with now. There's links to Amazon USA, Amazon UK, and Amazon Deutschland, so no matter where you are - Aussies order from Amazon USA;-) you can order books at great prices, and I'll make a dollar or a pound, which goes to supporting this e-zine. There are links to search Amazon sites for all their products, books, CDs etc., and yes, we get a tiny piece of that too. We really appreciate it when you start your book search from our website! Thanks for the support. Book suggestions please!If you have a book or want a book that you think other travellers would be interested in please let me know and I'll put it on the site. Thanks, Grant "With the right attitude, self imposed limitations vanish." --Alexander the Great "It is never too late to be what you might have been." --George Eliot
"Your site is absolutely fantastic! I can't believe how fast people have replied to my questions. I've been floundering for months trying to put an overland trip together and in less than two weeks of viewing your site and posting questions I've accomplished more. Thank you so much. Today I was in a cyber cafe in Dharamsala India and, as usual, the server was painfully slow. I looked over my shoulder and saw someone with your site up on the screen. Turns out it was Cheryl and David (Laing) who are heading to Pakistan. We struck up a conversation and it looks like I might have found the travel companions I was looking for, timing seems to work for both of us. Thanks so much for all your help. Love your site, looking forward to the day I can provide people with information when I have a little experience under my belt." Cat Syrbe, USA, in India "...Last night, I visited it (the Horizons web site) for the first time, and found it absolutely fascinating. There is much more that I want to read. It is really exceptionally well done and very unique. It gets a bookmark..." John Ferree - NC, USA. "Lots of people have written to me after seeing my post at the bulletin board. All of them have been really helpful. It's wonderful to know that so many people are out there like you who are willing to help make this trip possible. I am still going thru your website and I am getting most of the info I require, thanks to you, many travelers like me can get so much info out of one site at HorizonsUnlimited. Undoubtedly, its the best bike portal on the net today." Hanif Sama, India "I'm really impressed by your site and the fact that I got a reply to the notice I posted in the forum..." Rachel Wild Historical tidbits, or truth is always stranger than fiction. Next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be.... Here are some facts about the 1500s Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odour. Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children-last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it - hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water!" Houses had thatched roofs - thick straw, piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the dogs, cats and other small animals (mice rats, and bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof - hence the saying "It's raining cats and dogs." There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could really mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence. Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man "could bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat." Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or "upper crust." And that's the truth... (and whoever said that History was boring?!)
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few villages that exist are up to 60 km. apart. Although these villages put
us back in time at least 100 years, we were shown friendship and we were accepted
openly by the local inhabitants.
