Glad to hear you're back on the road again even though you're stalled for a few days. Hopefully you'll be on your way again soon. As a little encouragement, remember the words of Bill Hicks, "it's just a ride".

Good luck with the border patrol.

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NJ, NR, NBTTN

Hi Alex, glad you've made it to the other side.

A few posts back I asked you what the rotor was? from reading your latest post I now know you were on about brake disc. I'm from the UK and have never known it called a rotor before. You learn something new everyday as the saying goes.

Be safe and take it easy mate time to enjoy again.

Pete.

I am in Lima. I am leaving within minutes. Going halfway to Cusco. I stop regularly, whenever I feel like it, and eat lots of small snacks on the way to prevent getting tired or drowsy.

I'm making good time, but I can tell you, it's like like before. Much more relaxed and in control. All is well.

Yesterday I left Huanchaco, north of Trujillo. I spent Sunday afternoon with Frank.



We sat around and shot the shit. He's been on the road a long time and had some great advice to share, and knowledge of the area as well. It was a good time to be had.

Frank bought the first round! He kept going, when I went to bed. He's got time to hang around. I have a mission.



I'll try to arrive less ready to sleep, and slam out a new ride report soon!

Woo!

--Alex

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NJ, NR, NBTTN

ONWARD! I'm loving your reports and photos. Stay safe Alex.

Hi Alex,
wow, your post is 12 hours old, so you must be way south of Lima already. I'm still in Trujillo but will leave tomorrow for Cajamarca. The Peruvian coast and the Panamericana are nothing to write home about so it's back to the mountains for me!
After hearing your story I wonder what Ecuador has in store for me. I should be in Vilcabamba on the weekend.
Have a good ride to BsAs, I hope to see you in Washington State!
Cheers, Frank
BTW, looking at the photo above, I'm sitting in that same spot right now, having one of these cold ones again :-)

__________________
“It’s just a walk in the park!”
“You mean people are going to mug us and steal all our money and kick us viciously in the ribs?” Terry Prachett

From Huanchaco headed south, I got a late start. Drinking s until 12pm with a German means I sleep until 9am, and leave at 10:30. Dammit. Lima is not too far away, but of course it is nicer to arrive earlier than later. For me, the beginning of the day was more of the same from the day before.



Riding down the Pan-American Highway is a long straight road, broken up by small towns, and not much else besides. I was cranking out the miles in Northern Peru riding at an average of 55mph including my 5-10 minute food and drink stops. Hydration is important out in the dry landscape.

Every once in a while, I would pass trucks that seemed to be overloaded, but were likely carrying their maximum weight capacity in light weight straw. These trucks aren’t that big, but their load of hay sure is!

Make sure to look at the top center of the load of hay. You can make out the head of a working guy. When loading the trucks, they often toss the hay bales up to the worker, and then he stacks them. What better way to unload them than to leave the worker on the top of the pile?



This was the scene for the first few hundred kilometers of road.



What’s up!?



At a gas station rest stop I had a coca cola and a bag of chips. While sitting in a chair a pair of bikers rolled in on some older bikes. One was riding a 1986 Suzuki GS500 and the other was riding a 1970’s era Italian made Morini 350cc V-twin. Saweet.



Hitting the road again, it was more of the same. I even got to go through some tunnels… Neato.



Hey what is that ahead of me? Oh, right… Nothing!



An obligatory shot with bike in the frame. Hey Paul! Yeah, you over at Highway Dirt Bikes! This one is for you! My next DR650 will have this top-clamp/ hand-guard/ mirror set up. I love it.



The coast was a nice ride, but damn it was windy. I could tell when I was riding into tough wind by the speed of the bike. Going down a downhill section, with the wind would take the bike to 70+mph, riding flat roads with the wind; 70mph was the cruising speed. Against the wind? 60-62mph.



More awesomeness on the road. Sometimes I forget to take pictures with me in them!


As it got a bit later, I realized I would be arriving in Lima that night. Navigating a city of over a million isn’t that much of an easy thing in the middle of the day, let alone at night. However, there wasn’t much left in between me and Lima so I pushed it a bit that day.

This particular stretch of sand dunes caught my eye. I kept thinking that a quad or a bike with paddle tires would be quite the experience out here!



As the sun set, I stopped for a photo. Sunsets really light up the sky where I am, and remind me a bit of the sunsets I can see from the kitchen table at my parents house.



Coming up over this hilltop, I could see the lights of Lima in the distance.



Just getting to the “center” of Lima proved to be a hassle. It is a big city, and the highway runs through the center of it. It started to rain lightly as well, and I was in the middle of a massive amount of traffic trying to navigate to a place I was unfamiliar with. My destination for that night’s accommodation was The Flying Dog Hostel.

Tom, Charlie, Andy, Cass, Ty and Jill all stayed there at some point during their visits to Lima, and Tom and Charlie even stayed there twice. During the 3rd week of September when Ty and Jill on their V-Strom 1000, and Charlie and Tom, Andy and Cass were all in the same place, they all bought sets of Continental TKC 80 tires. In some sort of confusion, an extra set was purchased, and I was given first dibs on the tires rather than returning them. I bought the set for $175, with plans to hit the mountains with the guys when I caught up. Needless to say, I never caught them, but the tires were still there waiting for me.

The “Autopista” is a no motorcycle allowed area, and I was the only motorcyclist on the road for that reason. At some point, I took an exit off the thoroughfare and found myself asking locals for directions to the Mira Flores sector of Lima. At one point, I asked a motorcycle cop for directions. He waved in the direction ahead of me, and then took off. At the next stop light, he pulled up beside me and told me to follow him. He would lead the way.

The guy’s call name? FENIX!

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Well, following the Fenix was a task in and of itself! This guy stopped for no one, lit up the intersections with his police lights, sounded his siren at every corner, and expected me to follow as he lane split lanes that were too narrow for my boxes. He never lost me though, and I was able to keep up. In about 15 minutes, we came back to the Autopista and he began telling me how to get to the Mira Flores area, near Kennedy Park.

This is basically how it went.

“Ok, amigo. I’m going to radio my police captain and ask him for permission for you to ride on the autopista, because motorcycles aren’t allowed on the autopista. Garble garble, static static, hablo espanol, etc. Ok, he said you can use the autopista. Now, there are several bridges over the autopista, each one has a name, like, the first one is blah blah, and the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, no the 5th one, yeah the 5th one is named blah blah blah. Ok. Don’t pay attention to those ones, you are looking for such and such, blah blah blah. But DON’T take such and such, blah blah blah, no, you want the one after that. Ok. So go up the one after such and such, blah blah blah, and get to the stop light at the top of the ramp. DON’T forget, the one you want is NOT the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, or 5th, but the one after such and such, blah blah blah. Ok. Now when you get to the stop light at the top of the ramp, go through it. Don’t go through when it is red. When it is red, stop. When it is green, go to the next light. Ok. DON’T take a left there, and DON’T go straight. You want to take a right at the light after the first stop light at the top of the ramp that is on the exit AFTER such and such, blah blah blah. Ok. Then you are close to the Mira Flores area with Kennedy Park. Ask for more help there.”

I consider it a testament to my honed Spanish speaking abilities, thanks to my time spent in the mountains of Ecuador where no one spoke English, that I actually understood his directions. And believe it or not, I found the place. I felt like a champion. SUCCESS.

…
…
…

That night was spent eating fast food from McDonalds. I ate a Big Mac meal with a coke and a McChicken burger. It wasn’t very good, but it was cheap. I finally found my tires inside the hostel as well, as they were in the storage room that no one thought about until about 3 hours after I arrived. Also, the French and Mexican couple from Panama riding 2up on a V-Strom 650 that visited me with Sean on the KTM690SM when I was in Azoques, Ecuador were staying at the hostel as well. We hung out shortly and all went to bed early.


The next day, I asked a local German guy that lives half the year in Lima, how to get out of Mira Flores and onto the highway headed south. He gave me good directions, and after getting gas, and munching on some chips, I hit the road.

On the way out of town, I say this up in the hillside. MOTOCROSS!



Alongside the highway there were many fruit stands, and about an hour after leaving Lima I stuffed a banana into my mouth and kept riding. The fruit down here is great, and really helps keep me energized on the road. I don’t find myself getting hungry, and I feel great when I stop every so often and scarf down a piece of fruit.

Another hour later I stopped again and had an apple and bottle of coke. I had ratchet strapped my new TKC 80 tires to my top box in Lima, and they were holding on well.



The landscape north and south of Lima is quite different. North of Lima it is quite dry and dusty and very sandy. South of Lima brought on more greenery and rugged areas. Less sand dunes and more rock faces.

Heading south in the direction I am heading.



Looking north in the direction I came from.



It seemed like every time I came around a significant corner or rise in the landscape I was faced with a valley full of growth. These places produce massive quantities of fruit from what I have been told by the locals. However the transportation industry isn’t that great down here, and export isn’t very high.



I was loving it!



At this fruit stand, I ate an orange and a mango. They cost me less than a dollar for the both of them, and the mango was outrageously delicious. I would have carried a bag of them with me if I knew I wouldn’t see them again!



From there on out, it was a lot more of rocky sand, and straight roads south.



As the sun began to set, I found myself looking for a hostel/hotel in all of the small towns that I passed. Once again, I ran into the beginning of the night, but damn. What a good day of riding!



I posed for a mug shot.

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

That night, I spent in the small town of Chala, Peru. The next day would have me riding the coast further south, and heading across the mountains to Puno, Peru. It would turn out to be one of the best days of riding in my entire adventure thus far.



With the coast line on my right side, I knew I was headed in the right direction.



Somewhere down the road, I got hungry, and stopped to have a snack of lays potato chips that I bought at the store the night before. There was a nice area that looked like it was just for locals to hang out at. It could have been a bus stop as well, but there were no buses to be seen.



This sign told me that Arequipa was 265km away. A local woman had told me that it was 5 hours. 160 miles in 5 hours? I’d have to average 32mph. Could the roads be that terrible? I decided to wait and see.



From across the street, a woman rolling a cart of fish tamales crossed the street and took advantage of a possible sale. I should have bought two of the damn things, but by the time I had opened the first and realized how damn good it was, she was across the street and down the road a ways.

They wrap them well in a type of local leave, and then tie them with strips of inner bamboo material.


It was so damn good!



As it turned out, the woman that told me it would take 5 hours to Arequipa was off her rocker. That, or she wasn’t able to look at my massive (for the area) motorcycle and realize I wasn’t driving an overloaded jalopy of a bus. It would be 3 hours of riding to Arequipa, with another hour on the side of the road either taking pictures or eating food.

The winding Pan-American Highway was kick ass. Here is a view from “whence I came”.



And a view down the road and around the corner.



Kick ass riding in 3rd and 4th gear, at about 45-55mph most of the time.



It was like that for well over 30 miles. Aaaaaawesome.



At one view point the ocean was putting up a good fight to beat down the rocks. I’m sure that some day it will win.



One of my favorite photos from the past 7.5 months. While riding this section, I was reminded of the ride that Tom and I took on our way into Cuernavaca, Mexico. We rode through Lagunas de Zampoala, and had tight windy mountain roads through a lush green temperate forest that reminded both of us of home. At the end of that ride, we had both remarked to each other that it was the best road that the last 3k+ miles had had to offer us yet. Even just thinking back on that day over 6 months ago makes me smile and feel happy. THAT is what this adventure is all about!



Near the end of my coastline run, I began to turn inland, headed east. Around at least three bends in the highway would bring me to a verdant green valley that housed a small farming town.



The farms make use of the valley rivers that run out to the ocean and form fertile deltas in an otherwise quite arid part of the nation.



Heading inland, it was more dust and dirt and rocks and sand. And, another tunnel.



Soon, I was riding around a nature preserve that claimed to be the home of Vicunas, Alpacas, and Llamas. And just like the sign said, I found myself staring at alpacas. Coooool.



After a couple of hours of inland riding, I found myself stopping every 30 minutes to adjust my fuel mixture screw, turning it clockwise to close off the fuel supply as I gained altitude. As I climbed into the mountains, the bike would begin to bog down at 85-90% throttle. The fuel wasn’t burning, as the air supply became thinner.

Then, I passed this sign. I had to double back to get a photo with it. The highest point my bike has yet been too! 4528 meters. 14,855 feet.



Believe it or not, it was still 52*F outside (11*C)



Nearly immediately after this sign, I came across an alpine lake with Flamingo’s standing in it and flying around. Cool!



I decided to take a path off the highway and go down to get a closer photo. Which is what you saw above. However… I got stuck!



Shiiiiiiiiit.

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

So, I tried for about 5 minutes to get it “un-stuck” before realizing I was being insane, and “trying the exact same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” So I took off the right side pannier.



Then I took off the left side pannier.



Next came the tires.



Damn you Flamingos for luring me down here!!!



However, with excess breathing and panting in the thin air at nearly 15k feet, full throttle tire spinning, and a bit of grunting, the bike was free, and I began the relatively quick process of re-installing the panniers and loading the tires on.



I had been STUCK.



Back on the road again, after riding by some locals that had been watching me from the road side, I began to see a LOT of dogs on the side of the highway. None of them looked unfit to me, and all seemed to be in good shape. This one in particular ran away from me when I tried to get close.



Then, I came to a WAY bigger lake. There was a small boat amongst the birds. The people up here in the mountains apparently fish a lot.



To the north east I could see looming rain clouds in the distance.



To the south east, the clouds looked less menacing, but still full of rain.



Rain? Nah, hail will do it!



After the hail, I found myself immediately passed the rain and hail, and into dryer weather. It was also getting late, and I was closing in on Puno, Peru, on the border of Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world. I found gas station on the way into the town at around 6pm, right as the sun set, and then I set about looking for a place to stay. I soon came to an area that offered the triple play I look for.

Inside of half a city block was a sign for a hostel, a sign for a polleria, and sign for internet. I had found, food, lodging, and entertainment.

The next day, I hit the road early again, at 7:30am. My goal that day would be La Paz, Bolivia! Lake Titicaca was the highlight of the day.



Here you can see many boats, and piers in the water. It looked to me to be a fish farming area.



After a few more fishing areas I was headed to Copacabana and the border or Bolivia.



And then. I made it. I went about 5 miles down the wrong road, having missed the turn about 30 miles before hand, but when I got back heading the right direction, and saw a BMW R1200GS, V-Strom 1000, and KLR650 pass me, I knew I was headed in the right direction again.

Whamo Bammo. Bolivia baby!



The border crossing into Bolivia was a very straight forward process. Visit Migracion and get stamped out of Peru. Go to Aduanas, and get the bike import canceled. Change my Peruvian Soles into Bolivian Bolivianos, and head across the border. Visit Migracion, and get stamped in after showing the 5 year visa I acquired in the summer of 2008. Go to Aduanas and get paperwork for the bike. Done. Go to town and get your boots cleaned and over pay the young guy.



In the small tourist town of Copacabana, Bolivia I had the best Empanadas of my life, for 5 bolivianos a peace. Or about $0.62/each. The town is the port city to Isla del Sol, a rather large’ish island inside Lake Titicaca. I have been there before, and hiked from one end to the other. It is a nice place to visit if you haven’t already done so. Having done so, I took off for La Paz.

On the shores of Lake Titicaca, the scenery is pretty kickass.



Close up of the mountain on the horizon of the photo above.



A bit down the road, I tried to buy gas. The gas stations in Bolivia are not meant to sell gas to foreigners for the local price of 4 bolivianos ($0.50) a liter, and are meant to charge double that price. At the first gas station I encountered exactly this, and decided to see if the next one would let it slide. And gratefully it did. I like paying $2/gallon versus $4/gallon. It saves me the price of a hostel dorm room on only 3 gallons!

Down the road was the ferry across Lake Titicaca at one of its narrowest points, saving the hours that it would take to ride down and around it.



On the way across the slight waves of the lake had the boat rocking a bit. A passenger bus was also on the ferry, and it was rocking back and forth pretty steadily.



Safely on the other side it seems like the lake just doesn’t end. I haven’t seen a larger lake in my life. Then again, I haven’t seen any of the great lakes. Lake Ometepe in Nicaragua is big though.



Heading towards La Paz, on the side of the road was parked a V-Strom 1000 and an F800GS. Three Brazilians from San Paulo were making an 8k kilometer round trip from their home town to Cusco and back to do the Inca Trail trek. A guy and his wife were two up on the F800GS and the other man was riding the VStrom. We conversed in Spanish until they told me that their English was much better. It was better for all of us.



As I pulled into La Paz, I kept seeing signs for the distance into the city. It was when I saw the sign that said 20km (12miles) to the city center, while I was already in the outskirts of the city, did I realize the size and sprawl of the place. Having been here on a bus before, I didn’t really take into the size. As I came into the city, I was in the Alto area of the city, above the center, and looking down on the valley below.



The backdrop to the city is intense!



As I wound my way down the valley walls into the city, I wondered how I would ever find the Loki Hostel that I intended to stay at that night. There is parking nearby from what I have been told, and I enjoy the Loki chain of hostels. Also, I had stayed there 3 years before, so I was happy to go back. I remember from three years ago, that from the main drag, if you look south and up the hill and see a big red building, you have found Loki Hostel, La Paz. And that is exactly what happened. I came down a hill, found myself on the opposite side of the valley/main drag, and looked up the other side to see the hostel three blocks up the hill. Damn. What luck!

After parking illegally in a Police Parking lot to check into the hostel for 5 minutes, I pulled up the hill to the next street, took a right, and pulled into the parking lot where I have parked my bike for the past 5 nights at 14 bolivianos a day. Less than $2/day for secure parking is good enough for me.



Inside the hostel, I found my dorm room, dropped off my stuff, and went down to the bar to get some food.



In the “quite area” I loaded my photos, and began my report.



Over the next few days, things would NOT slow down a second, nor would this place fail to live up to its reputation as a party hostel of the grandest nature. Not one night of the week is a slow night, and never once is someone lacking for something to do. The city itself it not much of a tourist attraction, but does lend itself well as a hub to the surrounding area. Many people travel to and from Copacabana on the shores of Lake Titicaca, Rurrenabaque in the Bolivian Amazon jungle, and Huayna Potosi an 18k foot scalable mountain. Other than that, that party like there is no tomorrow, every single night.

I can’t handle this type of lifestyle personally, but I CAN and do enjoy documenting it. Being around fun people is fun, and here in La Paz, the fun never ceases.

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

The next few nights would prove to be entertaining in their own right as partying continued, and I met a few more friends. You’re looking at some Midwestern Canadian girls that haven’t stopped moving in 3 days.
See what I mean?



One of the days, I went out for dinner with another American guy, two Australian guys, and an English girl. We went to the “Star of India” restaurant, where one Aussie (front left) and the American (rear right) had a go at eating the “Worlds Spiciest Vindaloo”, which was said to contain the ground up entities of 40 chili peppers from the foothills of the Bolivian mountains. To finish the Vindaloo means you earn a t-shirt stating exactly that.



He was happy enough in the beginning of his attempt.



He was already sweating after the first bite, not to mention halfway through as you can see here.



He didn’t say anything verbally, but his noises made up for it.



This guy was laughing? What the hell!?



He destroyed the dish, and rose smiling!



He was having a harder time of it. But he did finish! Success!



That night would be the ABC party. Anything But Clothes. And it would prove to be a wild night of partying for what would appear to be the entire hostel. I however, didn’t drink, though I did wear two pillow cases wrapped around my waist like a loin cloth, in conjunction with a Peruvian Cowboy hat. The 2 liter bottle of water in my hand led all the others to believe I was already too far gone, and was saving the night with water. They were wrong. I was taking pictures.

Rumor would have it that this “Love Heart” would get his laid. Rumor would have it that a twenty something blonde Canadian girl would prove it true. Who can blame her?



This Aussie guy donned his backpack and didn’t stop dancing for about 2 hours. He now works at the Loki Hostel. Who can blame him?



Garbage bags, boxes, tinsel wrap, and bow ties were all in attendance.



These two French Canadian dudes used DVD covers from the Movie room and taped together a kilt and shoulder guards.



He was a… Robot? He claimed it, so it must be true. Srini would prove to an entertaining guy over the 5 days I have been here.



Half of the guys were shirtless, and the girls put on quite the show themselves.



Oh yea! Any of you guys remember that girl from the boat from Panama to Colombia? On the Stahlratte? The one that was caught in the act of making out with another girl? Well, she got her wallet stolen in La Paz at the bus station and has been here for 7 weeks. She’s still crazy!



Damn. As the bar wound down, so did the outrageous activity, and some of those that chose to go out that night leaving at 3am, wouldn’t come back until 11am the next day. Are you kidding me? I’m telling you, La Paz is dangerous to your health people!

The following night didn’t slow down either. Here you can see a body shot in process, being laid out on the bar.



From the looks on the bar tenders faces, Ronan and Ty were quite happy to see the British girl loving it just as much.



That is another girl going for the booze. Slurp slurp… Brit girl is still loving it.



This is how the night ended for me. It just doesn’t slow down here.



I left the bar to go upstairs to bed. I woke up an hour later and decided to go to the computer room where 6 desktops adorn a bench where half the hostel tries to check their email. I hopped on ADV and HU to check my Ride Reports, checked my email, and sleuthed around on Facebook. A seat to my right was an Israeli guy. Next to him, the British girl from the body shot. I was camera less as the following took place.

Ty, the bartender from the body shot was asking the British girl to politely return his shirt the following morning at the bar. I realized then that she had a grey shirt on versus a white one like previously seen. How did that happen? She didn’t respond, so he asked her again. She looked at him, and just said, “Ehhh”. So he asked one more time, to say, “Please, will you give me my shirt back tomorrow morning at the bar?” And with that, she looked at him, and in one swift movement became utterly topless in a split second through the shirt at him.

Topless British girl then proceeded to write and email, check facebook, and then look at flights all while shooing away the several people that tried to convince her to go to her room. When the last girl that tried to help her to bed explained that she was half naked. The Brit girl exclaimed, “Oooooh, wooooow, I’m naked. Sooooo whaaaaaat!?!?!” At which point she turned to the Israeli guy and leaning over, with both hands pressing her breasts towards him asked, “Does this look like I’m NAKED to you?!”

Loki Hostel, La Paz, Bolivia…. You have earned your reputation.

Onward!!!

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

As I left La Paz, Bolivia and the continual party atmosphere of Loki Hostel La Paz, the skies opened up and rain poured down on me for a couple of hours straight. As I was riding, I didn’t stop until I reached Oruro only 120 miles down the road. I was heading south to the Bolivian/Argentinian border at Villazón. In Oruro, I decided to stop for the day, as I left late, and it was pissing rain. At 2pm I was parked in a hostel, walking the streets and looking for food to eat. The next day, I hit the road early for Uyuni, and I am glad I did.

On the way out of town, I tried to buy gasoline at the last gas station, and they refused to sell me gasoline. I needed to go back into town to Cinco Esquinas gas station, where gas is 8.7bvs(bolivianos) a liter for foreigners rather than the 3.7bv/liter that the locals pay. The other option was the next gas station 80kms further south. I chose to go back into town (12kms) rather than risk the next gas station. Luckily, I chose this option, as when I arrived at the gas station 80kms further south, it was closed, and had no gas!

On the way south to Uyuni, I found a slight road block and practicing strikers. Even a burnt up car!



After being told by the locals to just ride around the burned car and into town, that is just what I did. That is when paved road turned to dirt.



A view of the signs, all telling me I was cutting it close on my road to Uyuni. I already had ridden 80miles and only had about 100miles to go, or 162kms…



Hmmmm. Straight down the dirt road, or a right turn down the paved road… Straight!



The straight (dirt) road had an access road running along it. The main road was washboard hell, and the access road was sandy hell. What do I choose?



At the next town I asked around for gasoline. I had 94 miles on my tank, and 90 more to go safely. The man driving this land rover told me there was no gas around, and that I couldn’t possibly continue riding due south for Uyuni, as there was another road block that ABSOLUTELY would not allow me to pass. However, he was going to make a trip to Uyuni with his family via a round-about way, and I was welcome to follow. Yes, there will be gasoline along the way.

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So, with a little hesitation, I agreed to follow him out into the middle of now where and hope for the best. Llamas!



Damn. I really am in the middle of nowhere. I hope I never lose this guy!



Look at him go! At near 55mph, he was tearing across the altiplano in the middle of Bolivia and I was following him.



People live and die out here as well though, and I’ve got proof of it.



After an hour and a half of mostly 25mph riding with lots of various speeds between it all, we took a break.



It was some of the best riding I have ever done. AWESOME.



When it was time to find fuel, apparently there was none, and no one was selling any. And I only had another gallon of fuel with at least 80 more miles to do. So, the man asked me, “What can we do?” I pointed out that his truck was gasoline. Maybe I could have some gasoline from his truck? Yes. Ok. And so it went. He opened the hood of his truck, took the fuel hose off the fuel pump, and filled up a 2 liter water bottle twice, and dumped it into my tank. Onward!



As we continued on, I tried to take it easy to make sure I wouldn’t run out of fuel. Later on, I would learn that that would save the day.



This bus was empty, but there were about 15 people around it working on getting it “unstuck” from it’s predicament. It would have sucked to have been the passengers!



The scenery was outrageous this day, and I was having a great time, EXCEPT when I fell over in the sand at 5mph and bruised my left leg pretty good when my left pannier landed on me.

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Soon enough, I could see the Salar de Uyuni in the distance. Holy Crap. I am going to ride across the salt flats!



Dude. DUDE. DUUUUUUUUDE. This is AWWWWEEESSSOOOOOOOMMMMEE!!!



My “guide” took off into the Salar at full speed ahead, and I did my best to keep up without eating dirt in the bumpy roads.



And then, it was simply the immensity of the Salar surrounding me as we flew over the salt at 60mph.



See. I was really riding across the Salar!



Damn, my ugly ass hair is getting long!



Soon, we were getting close to where we would be pulling out of the salt and back onto the dirt and sand, and crappy roads.



For a moment, we stopped before we left the Salar, and the man asked me how I was doing for Gasoline. I told him that I was on my reserve and needed gasoline soon. He told me that in 5km(3miles) he was filling his gas tank, and as it would be, so would I. I filled 18.7liters into my 19 liter tank! Woo!



Here is the guy that led me 150 miles across the middle of nowhere to lead me to the salvation that was Uyuni! Thanks man!



The bike was covered in Salt dust and not less than a kilo of dirt and sand as well. AWESOME.



Soon thereafter I found a European tourist couple walking down the street and I asked them where they were staying. I then found their hostel, booked a room, went out for food, found some internet and passed out. My goal for the next day, Tupiza or Villazón, I wasn’t sure yet, and I had 208 kms of “good dirt road” to make it to Tupiza….



Well the first 1/4 of the “good dirt road” was ACTUALLY “good dirt road”, and I was having great time. That is basically where is ended though.



Llamas! Or are they Alpacas. I think they are Llamas!




To be continued...

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

Sometimes, the “good dirt road” would turn into “shitty sandy road” and it would turn out I would take a well timed photo of the road behind me….Because…. Aaaah shit.

I had the presence of mind to take a picture while it was down this time. And the sand wasn’t particularly nice to me when I was picking it back up. All of you guys with KTM990’s and R1200GS’s must have fun if you have to pick them up!

It wasn’t but a few moments later when two Brazilians, Robertson and Anderson, rolled up on a Harley Davidson and a BMW G650GS.

I asked Robertson what he would do if he fell. His response,”I don’t fall”. I like that attitude. Slow going in the sand for this guy!

His riding partner Anderson had the same idea, and followed behind the Harley, why not, he’d never be left behind out here!

As they pulled away, I was happy enough to see this bolt on the left side pannier rack flopping around. After removing the pannier, it was obvious enough that it was snapped of IN the frame of the bike. Damn.

The other side looked like this… I hadn’t given the bike a once over after my epic ride the day before, and well, lucky me!

I’m not going back when I’m 40% into the 208kms of dirt road though!

On the way “deeper” into the middle of nowhere, I passed what seemed to be the local garbage dump/collection pile. There was garbage EVERYWHERE, for about a mile, and then it was back to the desert.

I’m halfway there!!!

Ah damn. Look at this stuff! Middle of nowhere awesomeness!

Check out this Czech guy on his R1200GSA. He was hauling ass standing on his pegs down this section of the “good dirt road”. I hope he slowed down for the sand up ahead! His two friends were behind him. One on a KTM
990ADV and the other on a R1200GSA

OH SHIT. Flat tire! What do I do!

First step first. Get off the bike, whip out the Enduro Star Trail Stand, take off the Velcro Strap, secure the front brake lever, and get ready for action.

Take off the panniers and remove the luggage from the top case. Remember to take a photo of what “the middle of nowhere” in Bolivia looks like. I’m 50km’s from the next paved road, I have a flat tire, and I’ve just remembered that the Ecuadorian Police still have my Cycle Pump and patch kit.

Sit by the right side of the bike, put hand on pannier rack and push the bike up onto its side stand. Introduce the trail stand, and get ready for more action.

Remove the wheel, pop the tire loose, remove the tube, and find the whole. Damn it, I can’t even patch it. Roll it up, and stash it in a pannier.

Go about collecting scrub brush branches to stuff into my tire to help with the fact that I have to ride 50 more kilometers on a flat tire….

Thanks donor bush!

Go man go! Am I really shoving branches into my tire? Yes man, you are really shoving branches into your tire. You have no other vegetation around!

And, proof that I have shoved most of those branches into the tire…

Re-install rear tire and get ready for round two. Riding.

40km’s to go!

Man. I am out here. The view below is ahead of me, and it doesn’t look like much fun right now!

What is that? Oh, right. It’s pulverized scrub brush branches weeping out of my tire. Oh the joy.

What’s next? Realize I am surrounded by small patches of wheat grass. Run through the trail stand process once again, remove the wheel, pop the tire off, collect wheat grass and stuff away!

HAHAHAHAHA!

It just pulverized as well! 30kmph (18.5mph) for the next hour, and I look down every once in a while to see more wheat dust on the ground when I stop.

At least the scenery was nice! You see that road sign? This is a normal route of transportation!

Oh hell yes! A view of Tupiza! That is what I am talking about! Have I mentioned that my bike has been running like crap for a while now? I can’t ride the bike over 3000 RPM, and it’s cutting out under anything more than VERY low acceleration? Uphill in 1st or 2nd gear…

I made it to Pavement, but not after I went on my reserve, and NOT after I ran out of gas DIRECTLY as I touched paved roads! Ahahaha. The irony! The view, having come from Uyuni.


to be continued...

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

Ahhhh, a celebratory cocal cola. Thanks side of the road vendor lady!




Well, as I was rolling down the very slight incline of a hill, towards town, this young guy came jogging up to me. Hey, what’s wrong? Why won’t your bike start? You have no gas? I have gas. I have 40 liters I can sell you. I’ll go get it!



And that is how I got my entire tank filled for 5.5 bolivianos/liter, much cheaper than the tourist rate of 8.7/liter, and without having to move the bike a bit. I had only ridden 140 miles since the last fill up. 28 miles per gallon versus my standard 40-42mpg. UGH!



2km’s down the road I found a “gomeria” which is the same as a “llanteria” which is a tire shop that patched my tube for me which I shoved back in the rear tire and looked like a pro as I FLEW through the tube puncture repair process.

On the way out of town, the sun was setting, and I needed to blaze a trail to Villazón, the border city of Bolivia and Argentina. It was “an hour” away. My bike was running like shit at normal rev’s and so I was riding slower than normal, and with MUCH less power. Fouled plug/s was my guess. WATER CROSSING!



When I arrived in Villazón, it was 8pm, and dark. I had lit up the road on the way there (a nice, wonderfully paved, like new highway) with my ADVmonster LED lights. I rarely use them except to be more visible during inclement weather and at dusk, but this time they were awesome. I found myself looking at a KTM and XR650R parked outside of a Auto-Moto parts store, and pulled over to ask for help. Instead, I was invited for dinner and had a great time with Jose, Javier, and more. MEAT! AWESOME!

The next morning, after being escorted to a hotel the night before, I woke up and rode back to the shop at 9am. I had to wake everyone up to get any help. They had all partied until the night before until 6am! They said it was for my birthday which had been my hell of a day in the dirt from Uyuni to Tupiza!


Jose is 32, and feeling it this morning! What’s up guys!



I really thing Javier was still drunk as he was disassembling my carburetor… I was honestly a little concerned.



Dude. There are parts of my bike EVERYWHERE and all over the floor, and a pan of oil under my bike, and, and, and…



And everything will be fine!



Let’s go for breakfast. This guy was on a Honda XR250, and was a crazy bastard.



Breakfast time! Look at José (hands in the air) he’s HUNGOVER!



After breakfast, it was back to the shop, cleaning the carburetor with gasoline scavenged from my gas tank.



Outside, José’s brother was trying to kick start the XR650R.



Lunch time! 3 hours later. Beef with a friend egg, rice, potatoes and a salad. For $3.50.



After lunch, back at the shop, the bike went back together, and Javier and I rode around to find a guy with a drill that could remove the pannier frame bolts that broke off in my frame. This guy had some old school HEAVY duty machinery at his disposal.



Here he is, welding a tab onto the remainder of the screw embedded in the frame. After hammering the tab to loosen the weld from the frame, he tried to unscrew the screw, it didn’t work.



This is what he was trying to remove…



By using the welded on tab.



Next step? Drill the bitch out! I had to stand on the other side of the bike as he leaned full on into the bike. Go man go!



What is this? Candid camera? Can you see his right cheek bulged out? He had about 150 coca leaves in his mouth, and that is not an exaggeration. It was ridiculous.



After he drilled out the screws, he tapped them from 8mm to 10mm, and after a quick stop at the hardware store, I was good to go! That night I spent again at the same hostel. Nice and pink!

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

The next morning, I was off to the border, 8 blocks down the road. That is where I met this guy from Uruguay, making a loop up and around through Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia, Venezuela, and back down via Brazil. He was LOADED to the gills with this 125liter top case draped over his bike rack and passenger seat. And riding a Kawasaki 125cc bike. Nutter!



This European guy, living in Sucre, Bolivia was on a different mission, to re-enter the country with his American bike that was on temporary import papers. Nice 1200GSA amigo.



What does that sign say? 5121km to Ushuaia. That is a long way!



Damn 1909 Km to B.A. I’d end up riding it in 2 days as well!



Check out this German bicyclist that I met along the way. He started in B.A and rode south to Ushuaia, and then rode north again towards Bolivia. He was about 50km from the border. His bike was kick ass. It had a generator in the front hub that was always activated and powered the front and rear LED lights. I saw his front light from well over a mile away in direct sunlight. I was very impressed. Further, the rear hub IS the gear box, and it appears to be a single speed bike from the outside. Indeed it has a 14 speed consecutive gear box of which he can access any gear ratio from 1-14 speeds. Meaning gear 1.5, 3.8, 9.7, 13.2, are all available and accessed by the rolling gear shift on the handlebar. Meet Tom.



As I rode through the brilliantly paved Argentine highways, these impressive rock formations popped into view.



And this quite impressive burial area as well.



Then, came the clouds as I began to lose altitude from the previous 3800 meters of elevation!



It was very nice to cool down in the clouds, and smell the water in the air, kind of like at home in the “Pacific North Wet”.



When it was time to gas up again, I met Hernan! What’s up amigo?



I asked him where he was going, and he said he was returning home from a month on the road, 2 weeks of which he spent in Copacabana, Bolivia on the shores of Lake Titicaca with his friends. He was riding for B.A. and planned to arrive there the next day. AWESOME. Me too! Let’s roll. But not before I get some money from that ATM.

Into the ATM I go, and realize that I don’t have my debit card! Damn it. I must have left it in the ATM at my last transaction in Bolivia. Oh well, I have another card that I can use. I took out the maximum 700 Argentine Pesos that I could, and promptly left the ATM, AND MY SECOND CARD. Faaaaack! I didn’t realize until it was too late….



And so we took off, into the sunset, headed south 300km without a gas stop as there were no gas stations anyway. All at 100kmph. (62mph)



Hernan just cruised along. We didn’t get off the bikes for 3 hours straight.



What’s up Hernan!



I took a few photos from the saddle as I rode alongside him. Most of the time I was 50 meters behind him, but for a good photo I got a bit closer.



That night we stayed in a cheap hostel in Santiago de la Banda. I rode 194miles without a gas stop, but got 45mpg, the best of my entire trip (as I cruised at 62mph the entire time. Hernan, on his Honda NX400 Falcon received more than 61mpg!

After settling in at the hostel, we hit the town to find a Parillada, and had a grill plate with loads of meat. Hernan ordered a Fanta and a Budweiser, poured each of us a glass of Beer and then added a bit of Fanta to it as well. Hmmm.. It wasn’t that bad!



Then Hernan pointed out one specific moto out of the hundreds that were passing by during the night hour. This one was special.



The next day, we really made some time after filling up with gas. We rode straight for 3 hours. Hernan lives in Campana, 80kms (50miles) north of B.A., and he didn’t want to pay for a night’s accommodation when he could sleep at home. And so we made TIME! This photo will show you a guy on his 250cc road bike drafting me at 65mph.



When we filled up for gas again, we had ridden 197miles, and I was mentally freaking out about gas. I put 17.7 liters into the 19 liter tank, and told Hernan that I couldn’t wait that long until the next gas stop. Every 250km was my limit. Every 150 miles at least. That is 2.5 hours minimum anyway!



We stopped for lunch and shared a $5 sandwich. It was massive even after cutting it in half!



A way down the road (another 400kms) we stopped again and threw on our rain suits. Well, Hernan did while I zipped my liners into my pants and jacket. On the way south from Santiago de la Banda where we stayed the night before, it reached 114* F (45.5* C)in the flat prairie/farmlands of northern Argentina. It was the hottest temperatures I have seen on a bike in my life, and 9 degrees hotter than Mexico where Tom and I saw the next highest temp of 105*F. We had been roasting in this oven for about 4 hours before cooling off in the wetter weather.



Hernan also had a large blue plastic sheet to drape over his giant pile of stuff. Made my panniers look like luxury items.



That night, we arrived at 9pm in Camapana, having ridden a couple hours at sunset and dusk and only losing each other for a 15 minute period of time when we weaved through a 5km construction zone and met up at a toll booth on the other side. I slept that night on his floor on a bed mattress after using his internet which made Peru and Bolivia internet feel like Dial up. I had forgotten what fast internet was like!

The next day, I spent the morning cleaning my bike, as it was Monday, November 28th, and Hernan would be leading me into B.A. to Dakar Motos where I would meet Steve Cook, the Australian prepared to buy my bike!

Before leaving though, we rode to the Super Mercado, bought some steaks, rode back to his house, and Hernan went to work!



His Dad had arrived an hour or so earlier, and like father like son, they were enjoying their midday meal preparation.



Hernan has a great looking Boxer as well. But he didn’t get any of the Churasco’s (steak).



Hernan’s house was a quaint thing, but it served his purpose well, and had secure parking inside his front room which served as a kind of mud room for him. Both of our bikes fit well after removing my panniers.



Check out the rear tire of my Pirelli MT90. It made it 4591 miles. Not bad on a loaded bike when Tom made about 3k miles on his last rear TKC80. I’m going back to Mefo Explorers when I get home. I made it 8k miles on my rear before it was replaced.



Here’s a shot of Hernan’s Honda NX400 Falcon. It proved to be a good bike that made it 7k kilometers (4200miles) with no issue, and was easily riding 60-70mph while we were on the highway.



This is Hernan’s way of making a living. Pimping out his truck services! A 1982 Ford F100 that has been converted over to Natural Gas. Pay the man, and he will get it done!



As we left Hernan’s house, he gave his friend a ride down to a local cross street. His friend had delivered the truck from where he had stored it, and we dropped him off.



Next stop was to deliver me to Dakar Motos, a motorcycle hostel on the outskirts of down town Buenos Aires run by Javier and Sandra. It’s a great place to be, and currently I am working on making sure that Steve gets a bike in good condition for the remaining 5 months of his adventure! The bike will be getting a new front and rear sprocket with chain, an oil change, and he’ll be ready to rock and roll!

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More to come in the next few days amigos!

YES! ONWARD!

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

Fantastic report, it's been so much fun following your journey, very much looking forward to seeing what you have planned next.