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Horizons Unlimited
New Links...
Too many to list! If you haven't checked out the Links page it's time you did - it's scary long, but it's a fascinating browse.
Get your website 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.
We reserve the right to refuse to link back.
Motorcycle Services
MC Air Shipping, (uncrated) USA / Canada / Europe and other areas. Say "Horizons Unlimited" to get your discount on Shipping AND insurance! Documentation arranged too.
A host of
volunteers for 'People en route !'
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!
Repair Shops...
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 specializes 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. Please post your info in the Repair
shops around the world Forum on the HUBB.
There are now 100's shops listed in out - of - the - way
places, from Abidjan to Ghana to Peru! Be sure to check out the HUBB "Repair
shops around the world" forum if you need work done!
Who are
they? When you meet people on the road, and they haven't heard
of this e-zine or the website, we'd appreciate it (and hope they would too!)
if you'd get their names and email addresses and send
it in to me.
Thanks, Grant
Request for info
Wouldn'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
The Shipping
page on the site is HUGE! It can be reached directly
or from the Shipping link on the Trip
Planning page.
If you have any information to contribute, please go
here, and register (or just login IF
you have used this system before) and you can then submit your information.
Thanks!
Travel Advisories:
The Foreign
Office in London's Travel Advice Unit advises against travel to all sorts
of places. Check out the listing
before you start!
The US
State Department regularly issues updated travel advisories, information
and/or warnings. |
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Who's
on the road, and where...
Peter and Kay Forwood, Australia, around the world since 1996, in India and Sri Lanka, Harley-Davidson,
India
"Tented summer camps spring up along the way for travellers but we hoped to camp wild. The Enfield started to overheat heading up the first pass, Taglang La, and almost seized with its load. A couple of cool down stops and both motorcycles reached the reported second highest motorable road in the world. India likes to claim the three highest motorable roads, possibly debatable, still in the last couple of weeks our travels have now taken us to each of them. This Himalayan region of high crumbling mountains and political disputes with neighbours has pushed roads into areas that would have otherwise remained isolated.
Taglang La, second highest motorable pass, 5300m.
The road to Pang, the first real tent settlement, about 170km, was generally good single lane asphalt except for the mountain pass and some road repairs. The only exception, a short section of sand track where we, by luck, met Dietmar coming out from his couple of days at the lakes. His motorcycle has been slowly losing power the last few days and now needed pushing through some of the sand. Despite having removed his air filter, replaced with a less restrictive piece of cloth, the motorcycle could barely be ridden uphill at the altitude.
Wind whips up dust on the sandy section of road
Some of the bridges along this road are removed and replaced each season otherwise the heavy snow and raging rivers could sweep them away. Vehicles have been moving along the road now for three weeks, the rivers slowly rising as the snow melts. Morning is the best time to travel, the rivers are at almost half flow, little snow melts overnight, late afternoons are the worst. Two trucks, not knowing the bridge was now open, nor that the river had washed away the crossing, were stuck, waiting to be dragged out.Wind whips up dust on the sandy section of road A spot, a few km's along and just off and overlooking the road looked good for camping. Dietmar departed with the Australian girl by motorcycle to take some photos but returned by car, his motorcycle now completely without power was back in Pang.
Enjoying milk from a baby coconut at one of many fruit stands
Sri Lanka
...Colombo is 'locked down' due to the 22 year ongoing Tamil conflict. Armed police are everywhere. Many inner city streets are closed to traffic, parking roadside is not allowed and some streets are closed even for pedestrians. Identity papers need to be shown at many check post barriers and police check bags for weapons and bombs often halting buses to look through everyone's belongings. The port area is an even more secure area and we needed to get a special pass to enter, showing valid reason and were almost refused as we were not nationals of Sri Lanka. The 350cc maximum capacity for motorcycles was briefly discussed at customs but as the motorcycle is only a temporary import it didn't seem to be a problem. They accepted the carnet, after a letter explaining our reasons for visiting the country, stamped and signed again by different officers and with the need to inspect the engine and chassis numbers we finally sighted the motorcycle, in its crate, at one of the warehouses. Unfortunately our agent needs to pay the port fees, which they hadn't done, before we can get clearance for it to leave the area. A long day of chasing paperwork...
Punk hairdo macaque monkey looking at our bags from the temple roof
Having satisfied our interest in the history and religion of the north we headed back towards Kandy and found a lovely guesthouse in the forest behind the city. We had not realised just how oppressed we had become in India. We had started to spend more time in our hotel room, not wanting to venture out due to the noise and constant attention of the masses of people. It is only now, after a couple of weeks in Sri Lanka, where we are enjoying more time out and about that we realised the hermits we were becoming. Spent a couple of hours at a herb and spice garden on the way to Kandy where a guide explained the many properties of the plants for medicinal and therapeutic uses. Even received a neck and shoulders massage using some of their natural products."
Hamish Oag and Emma Myatt, UK, Asia, Australia and the Americas, in Argentina, BMW R1100 GS,
"Bidding a fond farewell to Tony at Los Olivos, we made a bee-line for La Rioja, where we hoped to hook up with fellow travelling friends, Grant and Jules. Stopping off along the way, I noticed the left hand brake caliper leaking - bummer. I suspected a similar scenario to that of the right hand caliper whilst in Ushuaia, where the o-ring mating the two caliper halves disintegrated. Saying a prayer to the Difunta Correa, I nipped up the caliper bolts and pressed on to La Rioja.
....Stopping by the road side for lunch, I realised the left hand caliper was covered in brake fluid - shit! Where was the Difunta Correa when you needed her! Not having any brake fluid I was unable to carry out a road side repair, therefore upon Grant's suggestion, I instead made do with a prophylactic solution.
Arriving in Salta, Grant and Jules lead us to a hotel they'd checked out on a previous visit, inclusive of foyer parking - result! ...Over the next few days, Grant and I treated the foyer as a workshop, checking valve clearances and changing oil amongst the pot plants and bemused fellow guests.
It was about 140km to the border across a 4100m plateau with bleak rocky land either side of us. I don't think I've ever been so cold – at one point I was in tears because I felt cold to my very bones. We arrived at the border and tried to thaw out with cups of tea and coca tea, the latter supposedly helps with altitude.
...as soon as we got our passports out we were told the border had just closed, due to bad weather on the Chilean side. We explained that our friends had just gone across - the border officials told us they'd left 20 minutes before us and assured us they'd soon turn around because the weather had turned nasty and the pass was now impassable...
...We watched the weather reports and discovered that Buenos Aires was experiencing its first snow-fall for 80 years. Pictures on the TV showed delighted kids jumping about in the snow and building snowmen. It had also snowed in many other parts of the country. The weather reporter was very eloquent in his description of the forecast - 'Muy frio o frio'! Like the rest of the world, Argentina seems to be having weird weather patterns.
The next day we woke to a temperature of -6º and the news that the pass was still closed. We thought about riding back down the hill to Pumamarca where at least there was e mail, or waiting another day... while we were in the middle of deliberating, Carlos, one of the Paraguayans we'd befriended, rushed in saying, 'Sus amigos, aqui!' We ran out to greet a very tired and cold Grant and Jules - they'd ridden for 110km, found a hell of a lot of snow and ice, fell off a few times and turned round as they saw a storm approaching. They would have had enough fuel to get to San Pedro de Atacama but they didn't have enough to get back to Susques so they had to spend the night in a shed at the border.
Fellow hotel guests
We were glad they were okay and we celebrated by having a glass or two of wine. The next day the pass 'opened' (however it had been open when Grant and Jules first left, and it was very snowy and icy) but after hearing what it was like from Grant and Jules we decided it may not be the most sensible route to take - lots of snow, ice and two wheels isn't a good mix..."
Richard Miller and Sascha Meyer, through Europe, the Middle East and Africa, in Kenya , 1955 Royal Enfield Bullet,
"...Leaving Arba Minch and heading off the asphalt for a 120km ride to Konso, (the Gateway to the famous Omo Valley, most known for women in the Mursi tribe wearing large lip plates), we discovered what the rainy season can do to an earthen road. The ride started off good and local folk didn't disappoint with the carrying of large spears, pangas and the occasional Kalashnikov. This is for protection against cattle rustling and the occasional tribal war that flares up rather than to scare tourists! It shortly became evident that it had recently rained, a lot.
The road had been washed away in several places with rivers appearing where none had been and large and very deep puddles in the middle of the road. Having blasted through a couple and got covered in brown water from head to toe it seemed a good idea to skirt around the next one. A mistake as we discovered to Sascha's consternation that the ground next to the large puddles is in fact glutinous mud. The bike could stand up by itself in the bog, it was harder for us as the consistency combined intense stickiness with an equal measure of slippyness. After heaving and struggling to keep boots on feet for a while a group of locals turned up. Given promises to cross their palms with silver they were happy to use their combined strength to heave it on to dry land.
Now we find ourselves in Nairobi. After more than two months in Ethiopia and Sudan we've been luxing out in the shopping malls and buying plenty of cheese and other homely goodies. There's more remedial work to be done on the Bullet - firstly worn out swinging arm bushes were remade and replaced and then in doing so we discovered that the frame had fractured. It seems that this is mainly down to the pannier frames fracturing and flapping around combined with the swinging arm giving an affective hinge to the back end of the bike oscillated the frame more than it could cope with! But like the Black Knight in Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail we declare 'tis but a flesh wound'.
With all this time working on the bike and relaxing in Nairobi enjoying the leafy suburbs and cafes we were beginning to think that the 'Nairobbery' epithet that it has gained to be without base but then my wallet was pick pocketed today so it's all true! You've got to hand it to them though, an amazing piece of fingersmithery saw the wallet disappear from a zipped up pocket of a clip-fronted bag sitting on my lap whilst sitting on the front seat of a minibus. True professionalism! Though it's always a bummer to be thieved from at least we only lost about 50 quid with no harm, let alone awareness, to the person.
Our extended time in Nairobi has given us opportunity to think about route and Sascha has now booked her flight home from Jo 'burg early September so we've got about ten weeks to ride through Tanzania, Malawi and Mozambique and our pace needs to up a wee bit!"
Drop in on Alaska Leather on your Alaskan adventure for service, tires, accessories and a hot cup of fresh coffee!
"Indian formalities completed, we enter Nepal and head to get our visas which take no time at all. Then off to do the carnet, I wait with the bike, and wait and wait
and wait. After an hour Skill emerges to tell me that the guy that
normally does the carnets is off on lunch and no one has any idea on
what to do. It takes another hour for the Nepalese authorities to
complete the carnet.
By this time I have been rescued by a sweet young man called Arjun who keeps me entertained with stories about Nepal. When Skill emerges Arjun directs us to a restaurant where we can have some lunch, and he joins us.
By this time it is nearly 3.15 pm so we head to Butwell and call it a day. We park outside the hotel and something miraculous occurs, I am left in peace not one person bothers me.
No one asks the usual 40 questions:
How far one litre?
How much this bike cost?
How fast this bike go?
How much tank hold?
How big the engine?
How many cylinder?
Where you from?
Where you going?
and when Skill emerges from the Hotel he has a stunned look on his face and says "Where are all the people?"
WE LOVE NEPAL.
We stay at the Hotel Siddartha where the great people tell us there is no hot water showers till the morning but 2 huge buckets of hot water appear five minutes later. We are a little gobsmacked at the honesty and efficiency. There is not a lot to see or do in Butwal, it is a hot, flat, dusty, dirty crowded town, so we leave early next morning and make our way to Tansen.
It is a short 35 km ride to Tansen (Palpa) in drizzling rain. Despite the rain it is a beautiful, peaceful, and trafficless ride, the roads are instantly better as are the driving standards.
...Royal Chitwan National Park was created in 1971 and covers about 932 sq km. In the 60s and 70s many animals were lost to poachers, but through the 80s and 90s things improved vastly as the poaching was slowed by border patrols. However the political and economic instability of the past few years has seen a return to poaching and rhino and tiger numbers are falling at an alarming rate. We heard from many local sources that the problem starts right at the top of the Parks hierarchy, a park official had recently been removed (only for a month) because he had been found to be connected with poachers and the sale of rhino and tiger products over the Chinese Border.
...Another amazing day and another canoe trip (along a different stretch of water) to the Elephant Breeding Centre where we again play with the babies."
The book you've been waiting for - a great read!
Grant Guerin and Julie Rose, Australia, Trans America and Beyond, in Argentina, Ushuaia and Chile, Suzuki V-Strom,
"It soon became obvious to the four of us, (Grant and Julie - Suzuki V-Strom 1000 Hamish and Emma - BMW 1100) that the Ruta 47 (that's right 47 NOT 40) between the towns of Andalgala, Capillitas and Santa Maria was not normally the chosen route north for motorcycle travellers, or for that matter, anyone else as other traffic was conspicuous by its total absence.
The Franciscan Padre, who has worked at this museum (in La Rioja) for over 40 years, showing Jules the pre-Inca grinding stone for extracting copper
Dinner in Cafayate - Emma, Hamish, Grant, Jules
It was all a little arduous after a long days ride, especially the final few kilometers, when Grant decided to lean Miss Piggy and her passengers against a cliff face and then a further 500 meters along the track, stall the bike on a very steep sandy corner. Fortunately on both occasions we did not actually fall off, although Jules did a fabulous running dismount on the second occasion.
Above the clouds - Piedra Los Molina
Ruta 33 climbs continuously up the Cuesta del Obispo to its highest point at Piedra de Molina 3,347 meters where we stopped for a roadside snack and admired the glorious view as the dirt road literally plunges down through the Quebredara de Escopie and on to Salta."
Steve and Liz Ross-Bryant, UK to Australia, in the foot hills of the Himalayas, Pakistan, Honda Pan Europeans,
"We seemed to have missed most of the international dramas after we have left the places that they happen. We left Ankara and soon after a huge bomb rocked the shopping district (we walked down that road where it happened) and another bomb goes off in Izmir after we rode through it. Also we missed a large protest in Tabriz in Iran where Stuart got arrested by the secret police. We didn't miss the dramas in Islamabad however...
We left Quetta and had several days of very difficult riding through some very long and rough road works with rocks the size of a large orange tossing us around like rag dolls. Steve came off his bike quite hard on the way to Lorali from Quetta, the Pakistanis have a nasty habit of creating their own speed humps and as they are not Highways Agency speed humps, they are not signposted or marked. We were following a pick-up truck to the turn-off to Lorali and the driver braked hard as even he missed the approaching speed hump, and Steve locked up (silly I know, but he was really too tired to ride and really shouldn't have bothered riding that day) and hit the tarmac hard. It really shook his confidence and nerves and it took a few weeks to regain it.
We left Lahore and rode up the Great Trunk Road (known locally as the GT Road) to Islamabad. The GT Road is actually a major highway from Calcutta in India to Kabul in Afghanistan. Unfortunately we seemed to be riding on the one bit that is fraught with danger. Forget road works and the usual hazards, along this road you have to watch out for horse carts turning right in front of you, suicidal pedestrians that wait until halfway across the road before seeing if it is clear (or safe) to cross and numerous water buffalo that are quite content to just lay on the road at their leisure...
...We returned to Islamabad after seven days and landed ourselves slap bang in the middle of a military curfew. On the day we arrived there was trouble brewing at the Red Mosque in sector G6 (Islamabad is one giant grid pattern with each grid being assigned a reference, G6 is one of these giant squares) and later that night the curfew took hold. We woke the next morning to barbed wire strung across the road outside our hotel and armoured personnel carriers patrolling the streets. Sitting in the courtyard garden we could hear the grenade explosions and shooting from the Red Mosque and later on the second day the Pakistani army decided to display a real show of force by flying three Cobra attack helicopters in formation over the mosque..."
Peter Baird and Harriet Adams, las Américas,
La Paz to Lima, KTM 950s,
"To introduce myself, I am Harriet Adams and met Pete in London.
Our 3 day stay in the jungle was heaven. Much of it was spent lounging on comfy deck chairs on a boat being motored up and down the Urambamba river spotting wildlife. There was great excitement every time we saw a monkey, camen (alligator type creature) or dolphin. Slightly less excitement reserved for the wonderful birds...snail kite hawks, grey and black hawks, turkey vultures, all sorts. Here are a couple of monkeys:
We stayed at Steve's hotel since they were willing to accommodate the bike by allowing Pete to take the front door apart, move all the furniture and drive it up 2 steep steps into the small reception. It made a good showpiece. Felt quite important so when I took my helmet off I tried to shake my hair in sexy biker chick fashion but it didn't work as my hair was greasy and stuck to my head.
Climbing up to see Machu Picchu
We'd heard about a walk you could do which takes you a peak opposite Machu Picchu affording great views of the place. It was a tough walk, and steep, and the several near vertical ladders en route were quite daunting – not recommended for vertigo sufferers!
After 2 hours of huffing and puffing we made it to the top and there it was in all its glory – Machu Picchu."
The place to go to get good brakes for that overloaded world touring bike.
Robbo and Amy, Australia, to Africa, in Botswana, Namibia and South Africa,
"When I thought hitting civilisation makes things easy, boy was I in for a treat! The detour into Zimbabwe was to get myself a new passport as I had filled mine up to the brim. Along the way we had to subsequently lift visas to put them over existing stamps to free up some pages, along with begging police officials to stamp in every nook and cranny on my passport. We even resulted in colouring in the Queen's head on a one penny coin, flipped it over and stamped it onto a unofficial page in my passport! (of course to say that its certified by the Queen and it worked).
In retrospect, we shouldn't have agreed to it but on behalf of the Australian embassy in Harare, Zimbabwe we were recommended to get an emergency passport instead of a ordinary one so we didn't have to wait 2 weeks there. We were told that we could use it with no problems to continue travelling through Botswana, Namibia and South Africa!
Beautiful Himba lady in Kaokoland, Namibia
With relief we hit the Zimbabwe/Botswana border in Plumtree and exit Zim with no dramas. We then hit the Botswanian side and shocked to see about 300 other people trying to get in. (Someone tells us it will take over 5 hrs to get through.) When we get to the desk, Rob gets stamped in but my emergency passport causes a lot of headaches. They rudely try and inform me that I need a visa otherwise they won't stamp me in (as Australians you don't need one). They start to become extremely rude, unhelpful and make us wait. We continue to wait, becoming more frustrated and annoyed. We cause a bit of tension until the senior comes out, but she's defensive from the word go and gives us more grief... It's like beating a dead horse, completely useless.
We get told that our only option is to go back to Harare and get a visa! Shit, what a predicament. I'm starting to get really pissed off now so we try to ring the embassies for advice but with our luck, its Friday afternoon - the embassies are closed and no one can help us! Feeling defeated we have no other choice but to head back to Harare...
To get back to the Zim side (which at this stage we weren't sure if they would let us back in), we actually have to U turn through the Botswana entry gates. Low in spirit we pass the Botswana gate officials to turn around back to Mugabeville, surprisingly the official let us through without even looking at our documents or asking us where we are going.
As we ride into Botswana, I look at Rob and Rob looks at me. I know we are both thinking the same thing... Rob then says to me 'I'm with you all the way.' So with that I choose to run the gauntlet and accelerate myself and my trusty baja illegally into the country. I have sudden frightening thoughts that I may be gunned down on the go so I don't dare to look behind me. Heart thumping, I see the border getting further away in my side mirror but I realise that I'm now an illegal immigrant...
...It's been a butt crunching 39,323 kms in 9 months from London to Capetown but we finally made it to The Cape of Good Hope safely.
A whole overland crew get together in capetown. 3 cyclists, 6 motorcyclists and some girls we met on table mountain (Swedish, Canadian, German, Kiwi, Spanish, English, Latvian, Brazilian and of course Aussies!)
Africa Bike Tours provides you with a selection of unique guided Namibian tours by experienced off road hosts.
Come to Namibia for real adventure, Grant and Susan's favourite African country!
Andrew Wells, UK, Chelmsford to Cape Town, via the roof of Africa,
"The roof of Africa and for all that effort of trekking for four and a half days to see the spectacular views of precisely...nothing! We almost walked straight past the sacred sign post at 5,895 M due to the lack of visibility in the ensuing snow blizzard. High winds, a temperature of -20 deg C and poor visibility, what a strange way to see in a new day. This was one hell of a surreal experience.
To start with you get up at midnight to start walking, very slowly, up the final ascent to Gilman's point at 5,681 M in total darkness on a path that can be best described as unsure with all the packed snow on it. Then comes the altitude sickness which is equivalent to being drunk to the point of passing out, splitting headache, vomiting, the lose of balance and consequently no coordination. Not good when you're just about to walk the snow covered craters edge in gale force winds. One slip and you could find yourself sliding down 3000ft into the crater or worse; off the mountain altogether. All makes you feel a little...
The best part of the whole trek is the descent which takes one fifth of the time and you start to get some good old oxygen back in the lungs; very welcomed. Congratulate me in getting there; a lot of people who do try do not make it."
"Our next stop was Vilanculos, where you can access the Bazaruto Archipelago, a Dugong (Manatee) Marine Reserve. Unfortunately a cyclone hit the Mozambique coast about 2 months ago and wiped out the islands as well as Vilanculos, so after a day of riding in the rain we arrived in a camp site, which looked like something from Mad Max. Places always look worse in the rain, especially when you are wet through, but poor old Vilanculos was in a bad way! Luckily, it was a bank holiday Monday so everyone in town was out and about getting drunk (it is the same everywhere in the world!) and we managed to sample some local food – chicken knuckle kebab is the best description I can think of!
We eventually opted for a dorm room (too soft to camp – or just too wet!) in a place (pretentiously) called Zombie Cucumber and prayed for a reprieve in the weather...it didn't come and at 6:00 am the next morning we woke to find another rainy day...(this was our first night in a dorm and I found out that even if you turn off a mobile phone the alarm still comes on...and on...and on, until you realize after your long shower and have woken up everyone else up!). Now that we had alienated all our fellow travelers we decided not to go and see the Archipelago - sailing on a Dhow in the rain would be miserable and so we decided to ride in the rain – equally miserable, but there is that vain hope that you will see a break in the clouds over the next hill... there wasn't, so we had another ‘moist' day on the road (that was for you Jen!)
Today was also the day a huge unidentified creature with wings flew up my jacket sleeve! I skidded to a halt, flailing my arm around trying to eject the monster... it was also flailing trying to escape and so screaming I jumped off the bike (forgetting it can't stand up on its own), ripped off my jacket and threw it on the ground ...along with my bike (!), to reveal a medium sized locust. What a girl!"
We are VERY pleased to announce that we have arranged a program with MedjetAssist
especially for Horizons Unlimited people.
MedjetAssist is an air medical evacuation and consultation membership program and is HIGHLY recommended
by us and many others for all travellers. The regular MedjetAssist program is for citizens or residents
of the US, Mexico and Canada, and gives hospital of choice protection virtually anywhere in the
world and air evacuation as needed. (See below for more on the Foreign National Plan) Click the
logo below for US, Mexico and Canada citizens to find out more. (NOTE: It's still in progress for
the final HU version, but
you can get MedjetAssist now!)
For OTHER nationalities it is currently a little more complicated.
There IS a Foreign National Plan, but you can't enroll online. It's a faxable enrollment and subject
to underwriting approval. The rates are the same, but transport is restricted to "back to home
country - hospital of choice" rather than "anywhere in the world - hospital of choice". We are working
on improving that, but at least it IS available!
Go here
to contact MedjetAssist and inquire about the Foreign National Plan. Be sure
to mention Horizons Unlimited.
Michael Paull adds his endorsement of MedJet (and he DID use their services -
twice!):
"...After an additional three days in Beijing, I was deemed stable enough
for air evacuation back to the University of Washington Medical Center in Seattle, WA, in the company
of my wife Aillene (who had flown in from Japan), and an air transport trauma nurse provided by the
company that I had procured medical evacuation insurance from, MEDJET Assistance - without doubt,
the best insurance coverage I have ever purchased in my life.
A small plug here - these people were remarkable... If there was ever a better
case for '...don't leave home without it.', MEDJET Assistance is at the top of my checklist, no matter
where I travel (and I hope to do a LOT more)."
Note: Per the Medjet Assistance site: "...a medical transport between Europe
and America can run more than $35,000. Middle East and South American flights range from $60,000 to
$80,000. Transport from Asia often exceeds $100,000." Sounds like $205.00 for a single is
pretty cheap
insurance!
Josh Forde, New Zealand, in Bolivia,
"Motoring into the darkness, I also realise that my rear suspension is too hard. Set up for a load or two people, my weight doesn't load the spring enough and I bounce over every bump while I lose traction every time I accelerate. The constant vibration passes through to my kidneys feeling a lot like a 'stitch' when you exercise harder than your body can handle. After 10 minutes the pain subsides and I start to climb sliding and bouncing over the washboard of the gravel switchbacks torn up by previous trucks. I climb, I climb, and I climb further. The oncoming trucks are ruthless, blinding me with their high-beam and forcing me to the edge of an invisible precipice. The buses are worse, not even slowing. Every time I meet another vehicle, dust blinds me and I must hold my breath and look for any opportunity to pass...
...I reach Pisac at 2800 metres and face the last hills before Cusco. I know it will be cold, and I can not be sure of the state of the road so I ride slow again. It is a wise move, road blocks of huge boulders appear without warning. Failure to register one of these will surely throw me off the bike. Around one blind corner, a tree has been cut down and lies across the road.
I finally reach the lights of Cusco overlooking the city at about 3800 metres. My hands are numb and I allow myself to stop at a lookout before entering the city. Reflecting on what I've done, I'm very happy with myself but annoyed at again riding through the night. Even the relaxed time frames I am setting seem to compel me to put myself in these situations. I ride slowly into Cusco and to my hotel (it is at least 1 in the morning). A Peruvian man runs out of the Irish bar opposite. He pulls me into the bar and makes me a cup of warming tea, talks to me while I warm up and then lets me check into my room ready to collapse...
Meet Chuck. Chuck for various reasons decided on a radical change of lifestyle, quit his job in Washington, sold everything and has embarked on a multi-year round the world motorcycle trip. We met up in Cusco and catching him in La Paz, we both agreed to a challenging route through the infamous 'Camino de la muerte' formerly the world's most dangerous road. In recent years an alternative safer route into Bolivia's Yungas region, has meant that locals are no longer impelled to use this rather macabre tourist attraction. It is now the domain of mountain bike tours and the odd un-hinged motorcyclist, although the road is still open for traffic.
The Road of Death in its prime claimed about 100 lives per year, down sharp drop-offs and single track. The road wasn't designed by engineers but by army sergeants with dynamite needing to create a route to their painful and embarrassing military expedition in the Chaco war. At some stage it was graded and became the access to the painfully poor villages (nowadays) just 2 hours drive from La Paz. Still with some trepidation, Chuck and I ventured towards the top where the driving is on the left-hand side of the road.
To my disappointment the views were obscured by dense mist, presumably the warmth of the jungle clashing with the cold air at the 4700 metre summit (La Cumbre). But once we had lowered our tire pressures and inched our way around some corners this was just another simple Bolivian road. Fairly uniform curves without potholes or mud, the main hazard was overtaking all the nervous girls at the back of mountain bike tours. I suspect some never let go of their brakes."
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"After Turkey, Iran was the next stop. For me a fourth crossing, for Gaea a totally new experience. Fully equipped with dresses and scarves, we embarked on the Persian roads. Traffic became a hazardous issue and may not be taken lightly. We zigzagged and horned our way through evening rush hour in Tabriz, swearing to match our riding hours better for all the next cities. Mashhad for instance went much better because we entered shortly before 4 o'clock, siesta time in Iran being 12-16h. The temperatures rose too, from 25-30 degrees to a general 35-40. Dressed in our triple layer of shirt, protector vest and manteau plus the scarf, not only we looked the part but we also suffered from near heat-strokes too.
Iran has changed and yet not changed. The dress code for men now includes short sleeves, and for women the "manteaus" (knee-long buttoned tight jackets) are tighter than 5 years ago, the scarves more colourful and showing more hair, make-up is fashionable, but I also notice more black, more chadors, and a few small new rules like women cannot smoke water pipes in public anymore. We also read about Teherani women picked up for questioning. And we noticed some censorship on certain websites too. But people were still friendly and curious, traffic still a mess, cities and bazaars still buzzing, etc. And there was music at times!
And then there is the fuel issue... Since mid June, the government rationed the fuel to 100 liter per car per month, to be bought on a special chip card from the fuel stations. Taxi's get 800 liters / month and that is it. No solution was thought of for the (very few) foreigners travelling across Iran, so we were facing a potentially big problem. One normally rides almost empty into Iran because fuel costs here are ridiculously low (1 euro for 12 liter...) but now we filled up with the "golden" Turkish fuel so we would at least have time to figure it out once in Iran.
And we did find solutions. Always starting as follows: we park the bikes next to the pumps and closest to the fuel station office. We take off our helmets (ooo, women!) and smile. We try to find the boss of the station. We still smile. By that time at least a hand full of people including some station personnel has come up to the bikes. Where are you from? and some puzzled looks are the next step. We sign language our way through the "Yes, we need fuel. No, we don't have a card. No, tourists don't get one. No, our embassy cannot help. Yes, we need 10 (or 15 or so) liters. No, we cannot push them to Mashhad". Etc...
And then the Iranians start to discuss amongst themselves. We smile (still). We wait. And after 5-15 minutes, a solution comes up. A couple of times we could fill up from the bosses tank card (we think they get special conditions), and other times we could buy a few liters from one car, then from the next and so on. Twice generous drivers refused every payment! And one fuel station owner had smelled business and charged us triple, which we equally paid with a smile (at 1 euro for 4 liter, you don't make a fuss). Only once they refused us and send us on, and it certainly became harder close to big cities. Right now we can reach the Turkmen border but we're uncertain if we will be able to fill up before leaving the country."
Seen on the road, in Bolivia, by Allan Karl
Jeremiah St. Ours passing llama car in Bolivia. Photo by Allan Karl
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