Ecuador ...

I rode into Ecuador and through the town of Tulcan heading for my first night stop at Ibarra. I continued to ride through amazing views, up high where it cooled and then down into warm valleys. You could see a marked increase in hostels and hotels in the valleys, clearly this is where the locals go for holidays and warmth. I found a hotel in Ibarra and settled for the night. It may have been the effects of the altitude but I felt tired and considered staying a couple of nights to rest up and acclimatise. I looked at the map and realised I was only a few kilometres from the Equator so set off the next day for a photo opportunity.

 

View over Ibarra from the Hotel

 

I rode into Cayambe and began looking for a 'line' across the earth. A mixture of heavy traffic and roadworks, I was still chasing those trucks, meant I rode straight on by. I later learnt that there is some argument locally about where the equator runs across Ecuador. A tourist opportunity missed I decided to head to the capital Quito and see where I ended up. Amazingly there is a six lane highway which runs straight through the capital, again the views were incredible and my mood changed and I began to enjoy the ride and feel less tired.

 

 

Looking down on Quito from the highway

 

What an amazing place Quito was, the highway went up high and looked down across the valley, I kept stopping to try and take it all in. I continued along the highway and onto a new road which carried me south towards Riobamba, it was actually relaxing to be on a 'straight' road and away from the curves and climbs of the last few days. I began to see snow capped mountains, evidence of the Andes and active volcanoes. Just before Riobamba I found a hostel by the side of the road, overlooking Chimborazo, a snow capped volcano, and decided to stop for a few days.

 

 

The tip of Chimborazo, honest, just above the the trees and the hostel. It was cold.

 

It was a great stop and very restful, the hostel was set in farmland and very quiet, so different from the usual city/town hotels I normally used. Feeling much better I headed on south towards Cuenca and another 'Spanish Colonial' town. I eventually stopped in Azogues, partly because I passed a likely looking hotel but also because a tourist town like Cuenca was not high on my list. There is no doubt that the more touristy centres can be easy to stay in but, like anywhere, they rarely provide a real sense of the country you're in.

 

 

Azoques

 

The hotel was great, I met a woman from the USA who was staying with some Ecuadorian friends, they all worked in Miami and were back visiting family. It was interesting to hear about life on the farms up in the hills and the impact of an influx of North Americans retiring in Cuenca, in particular how this was pricing out the locals. I also took the opportunity to replace my brake pads with my spares and do a oil and filter change. I walked into a busy Moto shop, essentially a yard with a small shop, they said they could do the bike then, we agreed I would bring it in the next day. Got there early and 3 young guys stuck it on it's centre stand and went to work. Besides me there was about 5-6 others in the audience, it was great, who needs health and safety. All done in less than an hour, total cost $30, which included the cost of 3 litres of oil, amazing (USD is all you need in Ecuador). I thanked the team and returned to my hotel, the bike ran great. Next stop Loja and what a ride it was.

 

 

Beautiful Ecuador, it's like this most of the way.

 

 

 

 

The weather changed to rain as I pulled into Loja but not enough to stop me having an interesting walk around the town. Next stop was the border with Peru at Macara, a quiet crossing away from the busy coastal border town of Huaquillas. After a few days I set off to cross into Peru, it was a Sunday. Riding into Catamayo I was stopped by Police who informed me the road ahead was closed due to a religious celebration, I looked at my map and saw another road marked which could get me through. Well, 4 hours later I arrived at the border after riding mostly gravel tracks up over 3000 metres, through small villages and the odd market town. In one I stopped to ask directions from a old guy in a Chelsea shirt, he just stared at me, not surprising perhaps, but where did he get that shirt ? perhaps it didn't sell in Fulham.

 

 

A great country, Ecuador

 

It was a very relaxed crossing, easy to sign out of Ecuador I was the only one there, the migracion man shook my hand and wished me well. At Peru migracion the guy was half asleep, at customs importing the bike I had to wait for the guys to finish their lunch and then we filled in the forms together. I lit a cigarette and looked down the road, it was beige, it was desert, it looked good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Colombia ... the south

While in Panama waiting for my flight to Bogota I used the airport wifi to find the name of a hotel used by another bike rider, kindly he had listed 'good hotels' on his blog. Waking up the next morning in Bogota I had to log into google maps to actually get a sense of where I was and how big Bogota is, about 8 million people and the third highest capital after Quito and La Paz. Having orientated myself I went out for a walk. I knew that others who had shipped with Girag had been made promises about arrival times which were 2-3 days out, I was in no rush to make contact with them, today was Saturday, nothing would happen on Sunday so I planned to get in touch at the start of the week.

Bogota, besides the mountains

It was strange not having the bike with me, I felt like a proper tourist and spent a few days just looking around and resting up. I also looked into the location of the cargo area at the airport and tracked down where to buy third party insurance, a must in Colombia. Bogota has an amazing history, tied in with Simon Boliva and the end of Spanish rule in South America. The streets were labelled according to their orientation to the mountains, have to say it didn't help me work out where I was at any given time. After the weekend I travelled to the airport and moved to a hotel nearby. Girag informed me that there had been a delay and with Wednesday being a public holiday (to celebrate Bolivar's victory over the Spanish) the earliest my bike would land was early Thursday morning.

on a quiet day

Making the most of this time I ditched most of my clothes and kitted myself out with new jeans and t-shirts, saves on the washing. When in Colombia the security situation is always in the back of your mind, I had no sense I was at any risk, the people I met and talked to were, as always, very friendly and helpful. The staff at the hotel really got involved in the bike import drama and helped all they could. On Thursday I went up to the airport and spent about 3 hours running between Girag and customs, at Girag there was a women called Loys who was the real star, spoke English and explained every step, I know others have spoken about her and would recommend getting in touch if you ever fancy importing your bike into Colombia. Eventually, they placed a wooden ramp out of the cargo area and allowed me to leave. The bike was all fine except it chose not to start, the cargo boys gave me a bump start and off I rode back to the hotel for one last night in the pouring rain, the hotel staff were all in the car park to help celebrate the release of the Tenere, gawd bless.

View from the hotel window

I was free to travel south towards Ecuador, I was on the road in South America, also I was at the start of a ride across Colombia which was going to take me way up high into the hills/mountains, around hairpins, into clouds and mist and cold and along warm valleys. From Bogota I headed to La Mesa and began to climb. I eventually stayed my first night back on the road in Armenia, the only guest in a wonderful and bizarrely themed hotel.

Just a great hotel

Lunch stop

I rode through Cali and down to Popayan, mostly in rain. While I was in Bogota there had been some fighting along the border with Ecuador, the FARC and Ecuadorian military had been involved so I was a little concerned what I would find as I moved south. The Colombian army where clearly visible but rarely stopped me on the bike, much more interested in local traffic.

Popayan, in the rain

After Popayan I rode up to Pasto to prepare for my next land border into Ecuador at Ipiales. On the way I pulled into a petrol station and met a group of Ecuadorian classic car owners on a rally, the wonderfully named ' Club de Autos Clasicos y Antiguos Del Ecuador'. They were very interested in my ride, I was keen on their cars. As I was heading to Ecuador they provided me with contacts in Quito should I have any problems and told me they would be back in a week and to get in touch if I was still there, a great crew. Of all the cars on the rally only one had broken down, a mini, you just can't beat British engineering.

Classic car club

It was at Pasto, over 3000 metres above sea level, that I began to feel some effects of the altitude, not too much just a 'light headedness' and some interesting breathing, as Deb said, it sort of crept up on me, I realised I would have to get used to this as Ecuador was going to be no different. After a good nights rest I headed to Ipiales and a much more straight forward border crossing than I was used to in Central America. While I was importing the bike at the border I was approached by an English teacher and his pupils, after slipping out of 'border mode' I sat and answered questions about England, my family and the Premier league. They also wanted to know what 'we' thought of Colombia, I couldn't side step the FARC/drugs thing but let them know I had been treated very well, had not felt at risk and had very much enjoyed my time there. Perhaps the media, or the Colombian government, could work harder on that side of this great country, who knows. I rode off into Ecuador (got lost) and thought about the USA State Department warning about travel in Colombia, ' Do not, under any circumstances, drive across the southern land border between Colombia and Ecuador'.

Oh well.

Panama .....

The Sixaola crossing into Panama gets a positive write up from the many bikers who come this way. Firstly, it is much quieter than crossing further south on the Panamerican and secondly, you have to ride across an old railway bridge with planks of wood nailed in to enable you to get over. For me, the quieter crossing outwayed the fear of the ride over the bridge, I was also hoping that they may have built a new bridge by now, I was right, they had. A single lane bridge had been constructed along side the railway bridge which was still used by pedestrians. My luck was in. A quick exit from Costa Rica, it took sometime in Panama, a couple of kids agreed to look after my bike, otherwise known as ... I was persuaded to let them look after my bike. I had to buy insurance, then clear immigration and customs, normal routine. However, the insurance could not find the bike and customs had no listing for the UK. This was an ongoing problem, I reckon it's time for a much simpler passport, just 'British' or the 'UK' or even just 'English or Scottish or Welsh or NI'. If you are from the UK, or Great Britain, have a look at the front of your passport ..... too much detail. So far on this trip I have been both Irish and from the USA, it was easier.

Into Panama

Eventually through I knew I had a bit of a problem, no road signs. As I set out from the border I completed about three u turns, much to the amusement of the locals, before finding the right road. Often the road would split into 2 or 3 new lanes, needless to say I was usually able to find the wrong one. Sometimes I asked and a couple of times local people would see me and quess where I should have been heading and pointed me the right way. At last I got on a run but was aware that there were no towns on this route, I had about 2-3 hours of light and the road was winding it's way up into dark clouds. It is standard practice not to ride after dark, or in the sort of downpours you get here. Heading towards David I did both, the 'perfect storm' you could say. I stopped in one small town and asked for a hotel, the guy replied 'hotels in David and Panama City', although not quite right it worked for where I was. I got into David after following a van, not good, found a hotel and was mightily relieved.

Around the airport at Panama

After Panama, the last country in Central America, I was headed to Colombia and the start of South America. To prepare I had been reading about Colombia and listening to the news. It seemed the FARC were becoming more active, in particular around the Venezuela border up north, so security was a concern. There was also a planned agricultural strike which could close many of the roads. Originally I had planned to ship the bike from Panama to Cartagena in the north of Colombia and then ride south, it's impossible to make a land crossing. I was worried I might not get through, or at least get stuck for sometime. I decided to explore the other option which was to fly both me and the bike from Panama City to Bogota in Columbia, with this in mind I headed to Panama City. I was back on the Panamerican and made good progress, so much so I was pulled over for speeding, the Policeman let me off, he was also on a bike. I stopped just outside the city in a cheap hotel and planned the ride across to the airport at Tocumen. What an amazing time I had the next day, I joined the end of rush hour, turned a corner and saw the Panama canel with the city skyscrapers behind. Riding over the bridge I went down onto the waterfront and picked up the toll road, the Corredor Sur, towards the airport, it felt like riding around Hong Kong island. I could not stop to take any photos, too much traffic and too much awe. I got to the Cargo area of the airport, pulled up at Girag the shippers, no previous contact or booking, and they agreed the bike would fly the next day, my luck was in. I got changed behind a packing case, handed over some dollars, caught a taxi to departures, bought a ticket and landed that evening in Bogota, capital of Colombia and inhabited by about 8 million people. Got a hotel and had something to eat.

Travel eh ? ya just can't beat it ......

Bike at Girag, ready for shipment to Bogota

Costa Rica ...

This blog is becoming a 'border' crossing diary, what can I say ? nothing focuses the mind in quite the same way. Re-packing the night before, money sorted, maps, possible places to stay when clear of the border .. on and on it goes. They capture everything about the journey so far, anxiety/fear, cost, excitement, even, and most importantly, fun .. all those things that anyone who has travelled will understand. So, the Nica/Tica crossing, a construction site, relieved by the presence of two 'bandidos' from Panama riding Harley's, they were real 'one percenters', I knew that because the patch said so, one was fully 'paid up' the other just a 'prospect', yes, another patch. The older member nodded at me, the 'prospect' talked and was a great help. He told me after we had cleared Nicaragua, 'moto rapido, moto rapido', meaning it would be quick to get into Costa Rica with a bike, 3 hours later I didn't believe him. Essentially my poor Spanish and a disinterested customs guy set me on a wild goose chase, I got everything in the wrong order and then they went to lunch for 1 1/2 hours. I met another rider, a website developer on his way from San Francisco south, he had taken 7 months. As his money ran out he stopped and worked for a month or so in a cheap renter and then carried on. I passed on my mistakes and wished him well. There was also a Nicaraguan guy who I kept passing when trying to import my bike, he was doing the same with his car, he kept giving me updates on his progress, at last he came up to me and said 'we are now done, go, go', I already knew I was clear but I did as I was told.

A better view of Costa Rica than the border

I rode and stopped in Liberia at a roadside hotel. I went for a walk to get some food, found a 'food court' and a supermarket, amazing. I walked around that supermarket for about an hour, so much choice. The dollar is the legal tender in Costa Rica and much about the towns/shopping mirrors the USA, very different to what I was used to. Well fed I returned to the hotel and planned the ride for the next day. I aimed to ride around the capital San Jose and up to the Caribbean coast at Limon, another sea to see.

The 'truck road' after the tropical forest and en route to Limon

Having got badly lost in San Jose I paid a taxi driver to lead me to the right road, who needs GPS. The ride through the tropical forest was amazing but slow, mostly down hill the speed was governed by the hundreds of trucks heading to the Port of Limon. Even on the coastal plane the trucks ensured 2 and 3rd gear was the norm, not a great ride so I decided to stop short of Limon at Siquirres for the night. I set off again in the morning, skirting Limon (which was stacked high with containers, ships waiting out at sea, take a look at the label on the next banana you eat) and heading for the border with Panama at Sixaola, well away from the Panamerican and meant to very laid back ... here's hoping

The Atlantic, Pacific and now the Carbbean