Chile ....

I woke in Tacna and heard the bands firing up, after a quick breakfast and 'check out' I hit the road south towards Chile. Dodging the marching bands I had a 30 km ride to the border. Again an easy pass across into the next country, very helpful staff, they checked my bag and panniers for contraband and wished me well. Unlike in Central American there were no money changers on the border so I rode into Chile with no local currency but Arica, the first city, was only a few K's away. I found a hotel on the coast, changed some US dollars with the receptionist and settled in for a few days.

 

Outside the hotel, still in the desert.

 

I needed to plan my next move, Argentina was not far away. I had made email contact with Dakarmotos in Buenos Aires (http://www.dakarmotos.com/) a year a go, I had heard great things about Javier and Sandra, the husband and wife team who run the show. It had always been my intention to stay at Dakarmotos at the end of the trip and use their knowledge to fly the bike back to the UK. I emailed from Arica to tell them of my progress and ask about the weather further south, most importantly the border crossings across the Andes. They emailed me some links to Police websites which listed which border crossings were open. It seemed that snow and ice were a real problem, further south in Patagonia it was really cold. I had some big decisions to make, it looked like getting into Argentina was going to be difficult never mind reaching Ushuaia. I spent sometime chatting with Deborah back home in the UK, she was due to fly down to Australia later in the year to visit our son George, 'why didn't I come ?' Why not indeed. It would mean missing southern Argentina but then I hadn't started in Alaska either, the 'classic' north to south route along the panamerican. I could do Oz instead, be back with the family (except Jack who was in Istanbul) and still see much of Argentina, it was an easy decision really, Oz it was. I focused on getting across them mountains.

 

The Paso de Jama crossing, advised by the riders I met in northern Peru and said to be open most of the year, was, ummmm ... closed (http://www.theguardian.com/travel/gallery/2013/sep/20/andes-by-bus-argentina-chile#/?picture=417768042&index=0). A freak weather event had brought snow to San Pedro de Atacama, the start of the pass on the Chilean side, the first snow there for 30 years, it made the national news. Given the uncertainty about weather further south I still felt the Paso de Jama crossing would be my best bet, not knowing when the pass would open I decided to head south to Iquique and keep an eye on the Police websites. I changed more money in Arica and got some Argentine pesos. I also bought a petrol can, there was the Atacama desert coming up.

 

 

The Atacama, extra fuel on board.

 

 

The Andes in the distance, somehow I have to get across those.

 

 

Still love it ...

 

You reach the edge of Arica and then head out into the desert, another amazing ride. Iquique was over 300 + K's away, nothing much in between. The journey was broken by road construction, I sat in a queue for about an hour watching the workers dig into the dunes by the side of the road, big JCB's at crazy angles hanging over a valley. The road turned to gravel for about 30 K's, winding it's way down hill, dust everywhere. This would occasionally happen in Chile, the tarmac would end and 'off road' you would go, just added to the adventure. I left the panamerican and headed the 40 or so K's to Iquique and back to the coast. I reached Alto Hospicio on the hill above and after finding the road down I was greeted by a view of a city spread along the pacific coast, a great ride down.  

 

 

Coffee in the square at Iquique, a lovely city

 

 

The sea front at Iquique, the sun not out, the hills guarding it's back.

 

 

A great place to stop ..

 

I checked into a hotel and walked into the city centre, found the main square and had a coffee and some food, felt like a 'real' South American city, I loved it. There are two routes south from here, along the coast or back onto the panamerican in the desert, I decided to try the coastal route so set off the next day, in no rush, that border crossing was still closed. I aimed to spend a night further south at Tocopilla. Well, that 'freak' weather event that brought snow to San Pedro had also sent rain to the coast, it caused a landslip which had cut off the coast road. It took me 150 K's to find this out, I was stopped at a customs check. Chile is split into different regions, when you cross from one to the other the Police and customs check your papers. As I tried to exit Region One I was told the road was closed, the Police were really helpful, showed me alternative routes and wished me luck. I decided to head back to Iquique and spend another night there. To get to Calama, my target for the following day, would have meant a long old ride. Can't mess with El Niño and I liked Iquique. After another night on the coast I re-traced my steps back to the desert and headed for Calama.

 

 

Back on the moon, look at that sky

 

 

 

The return of the tarmac covered rest areas, first since the good old US of A, thank you Chile.

 

I was still watching those police websites, the Paso de Jama was still closed but there had been no further snow. Assuming I could eventually get across I decided to hatch a cunning plan to help me acclimatise to the altitude, the pass peaked above 4000 metres (Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in the UK is around 1300 metres), first stop was Calama, a big mining town, for a night. Turning off the panamerican and heading for Calama was a bit of a moment, I was going east, not south for the first time. After a restful night I took a steady ride to San Pedro de Atacama, a small town well known as a base for exploring the Andes. Checking into a hostel I asked the receptionist about the Paso de Jama, he told me it was still closed, snow on the Argentine side. I smiled and walked to the local Police station, 'El paso está abierto', I was on my way.....

 

 

Heading towards San Pedro de Atacama, getting close to them mountains.

 

 

Drinking coffee in San Pedro

 

I stayed in San Pedro for two nights and felt no ill effects from the altitude. I knew that the immigration and customs post on the Chilean side of the pass was here in San Pedro, this was about 160 Kms from the actual border with Argentina. You signed out of Chile and then rode for those 160 Kms up into the mountains to the border and the highest part of the pass. The Argentinian border post was about 30 K's further on. After that there was about 300 + K's to the first reasonable sized town, Purmamarca, a sort of mirror of San Pedro. With the paperwork, it was going to be a long day, I had also heard that ice and snow was still covering parts of the pass. After the all build up and the fear that I wouldn't be able to get into Argentina I went to bed strangely calm, it was my 14th border crossing, 'what the hell' I thought, it was going to be one amazing day ...... 

 

 

This is what it's all about. Approaching immigration/customs at San Pedro, after this a day crossing the Andes into Argentina, what's not to like ?

 

 

 

 

Peru ...

" .. these Are The Days That Must Happen To You." Dan Walsh


Well, I had been on the road sometime and was very much into the groove now. I had seen some amazing sights and met some wonderful people, I hadn't become blase but I figured there would be less and less that would surprise me and provide those 'wow' moments, but no. From the highlands and mountains of Colombia and Ecuador I found myself entering a completely different landscape, the deserts of Peru, I loved it, it was not just a complete change it was perhaps the most amazing landscape so far. I rode down through Sullana and into Piura for my first night. Dust and sand everywhere, the cities were more developed than what I was used to but still managed to provide some interesting roads.

Along the main highway businesses were protected by high walls, they looked like mini fortresses, there was often rubbish flying about and backed up in corners but I just loved it, Peru really gets under you skin. After a good night in a friendly hotel I set out to drive across the desert, around 250 + kilometres from Piura to Chiclayo with nothing in between. On the outskirts of the city I saw a group of riders on BMW's in a petrol station, they waved and I stopped. They were from Argentina on a ride through Chile, Peru and up into Ecuador for a couple of weeks. Welcoming and keen to talk it was a great way to start the day.

 

Argentine riders, firing up the mate (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mate_(beverage)

 

 

My first try out, it's like tea but different

 

After swapping stories about roads and border crossing I left the riders and headed south, they were crossing into Ecuador that day. I was becoming aware that the weather further south was closing the border crossings across the Andes between Chile and Argentina, I was now in the Southern Hemisphere and in winter heading into early spring, snow and ice was a concern in those high passes. The Argentines showed me the most northerly crossing between Chile and Argentina, the Paso de Jama, they advised this was open most of the year, I made a note. 

 

 

The road to Chiclayo, I stopped to take these photos but left my engine running, it felt so remote I didn't want to risk being stuck.

 

 

I loved this landscape

 

I got to Chiclayo with time to spare so decided to carry on to Trujillo and stay at Huanchaco for a few days. I had seen a few programmes on TV about Huanchaco, in particular the reed boats the fishermen use, the first 'surf boards'. It was a bit on the tourist side but was a great place to check over the bike, riding gear and feed up.

 

 

The best park of the trip, right outside the door at Huanchaco

 

 

Reed fishing 'boards'

 

 

Main street Huanchaco

 

I moved on after a few days towards Barranca, more amazing landscapes and easy miles along straight roads. There is plenty to see here, I don't subscribe to the view that deserts are boring, often you would have the sea on one side and the mountains off to the other, huge dunes which you would ride over and along, looking down hundreds of metres to the coast below. In more remote areas the sand would blow across the road ensuring you kept focus on corners.

 

 

On route to Barranca. Like birds heralding land when you are at sea, three wheel mototaxis start appearing as you approach a town, you share the rest of Peru with trucks and buses, occasionally.

 

I rode into Barranca, the roads between the highways and towns are often in poor repair here, not sure how the funding is worked out. Unlike Huanchaco, Barranca was pure Peru, a local town. I found the hotel with the help of a mototaxi and settled in. All through Peru you ride by ancient forts and archaeological sites, often signposted, pre-inca civilisations. It fascinated me that humans decided to populate this area, desert and not much more. Irrigation helps and you often round a hill to find yourself in green farmland which abruptly stops a few Kms further on.

 

 

Barranca

 

 

When in Rome .. 'sweet' doesn't quite cover it

 

The hotel staff really took an interest in the ride and made me very welcome, often the way when you're away from the tourist centres. Next challenge, ride across the capital Lima and get clear out the other side. I set off early hoping to reach the outskirts of the city just after rush hour, plan worked (I think) but madness still in evidence. If there's three lanes that means at least 6 vehicles can get in that space, it was a fight for every square cm of tarmac. I had got used to all sorts of driving on this trip, even so I had to say the coach drivers surpassed all others in Peru, I lost count of how many times I had to exit the road as a coach overtook slower traffic by coming over to my side. All that advice you get in the UK about maintaining your 'bubble of safety' and 'utilise all your lane' goes out the window. Keep focus, expect the unexpected, watch out on blind corners and keep right over to the edge of your lane. In some respects you can understand it, most bikes here are 125-250 and can't keep up with the traffic so sit on the sides of roads, bigger bikes like mine which can keep up are rare, they don't expect you to be there. In Ecuador, when behind slower moving traffic waiting to overtake, you always had to watch behind you. Cars would just pull up alongside and push you off the road, they had no sense you had the power to overtake, you were in the way. One day a guy in a Toyota did this to me, most of the time I just slowed and let them go but today he was about the 10th to do this, he needed teaching a lesson so I ..... 

 

Anyway, I survived Lima and stopped for a coffee to celebrate, I was on the route of the 2013 Dakar rally (tarmac, obviously) and the services had been updated.

 

 

'Eight thousand kilometres, without toll'  Pretty close .. you think ?

 

I spent the night on the coast at Paracas, heading inland the next day towards Nazca and the world famous 'lines' (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nazca_Lines). I had plenty of time to stop and run up the tower to have a look beside the road, I chose not to fork out for the aeroplane ride. As interesting as they are I have to say the landscape was far more interesting, the snow capped Andes in the distance and just amazing dunes, hills/mountains and valleys.  

 

 

I love this stuff, irrigated valley in the distance, you can just see the dark line of the road heading down.

 

 

Beautiful

 

 

All the roads here in great condition.

 

 

Up the tower at Nazca, the lines can be seen if you look the other way, I'm just in awe of this landscape. Nice bike.

 

 

It's a fish with a fork in it's mouth .. no I don't know either

 

 

It's a ... to be fair they are amazing, all the history, both ancient and recent makes them fascinating.

 

Nazca, the town, provided a good choice of hotels and the opportunity to take in all I had seen over the last few days. I'm a desert sort of guy. I planned the next part of the trip, Arequipa looked a good 8-9 hours ride away, there is not much in between. I decided to see how it went, there were a couple of towns which may have hotels so I filled up with fuel and started early. Again, I'm sorry for this, I was amazed at the landscape, at times the road was covered in sand being blown by winds coming off the sea, it rose up high along cliffs and then down again. I stopped in a small village to find some fuel, the guy was dispensing out of a broken toilet block, he used a plastic bottle with the bottom cut off to scoop it into the bike, who knows what octane it was, but it worked. So did the toilet. The bike really handled the low octane fuel and altitude very well, it ran slower but never let me down, great machine. I made good progress and decided to make Arequipa. After coming off the coast at Camana I began to climb, eventually heading in to dense fog/mist, after this cleared I ran onto a high flat plain and rode into Arequipa after a few switchbacks. A taxi driver helped me find a hostel in the old centre (Spanish Colonial) where I sat and ate outside a restaurant, I was back above 3000 metres.

 

 

Heading out from Arequipa

 

The next morning I set off in good heart and headed back into the mist of the previous day. I was riding towards Tacna, the last big town in Peru before Chile. If I made good time I could get over the border the same day, Arica in Chile was only 20 or so kms the other side. The mist was soaking the road, me and the bike, I began to head into ever tighter hairpins as I dropped back to the coast, 'to the coast ?' I thought, I should not be this close. Somewhere in the mist I had taken the wrong fork in the road, left the Panamerican and found myself in the port town of Matarani. I chatted with some locals who advised me to stay on the coast, I took their advice but further along at La Curva the road was blocked and I was channelled back up to the Panamerican, I had lost a couple of hours and thought my chances of getting to the border in time had gone. But, the road was good, straight and so I decided to up the pace and make up time. I stopped at Moquegua for fuel and carried on, there was nothing about, amazing long views and the odd car.

 

Suddenly, I had no power, the engine was revving but I was slowing, I glided to the side of the road, onto the dust and sand. I killed the engine, put the bike on it's side stand, got off and had a look, no chain ... no chain ? Time for a cigarette. Most importantly, I was lucky, dropping a chain when running at 120kmh can be dangerous to the rider and destructive to the bike, I was OK, the bike looked OK. I had a spare chain link .. eureka .. now I needed a chain. I wandered back down the road and saw a 'snake' lying in the middle of the lane, just at that moment the only car I had seen in about 20 minutes headed towards that chain, he passed over it, then he waved, I gave him the thumbs up. I collected the chain, saw the old link had gone, shook off the dust and headed back to the bike. I was lucky, I threaded the chain back over the front sprocket and got out my spare link, it was too small ... not so lucky. I guy suddenly pulled up on a small Honda bike, Ren, his job was to 'sweep' the desert, looking for rubbish on the road and stranded gringos, he had got both. We worked to try and get the link on, rocks, tools, no joy. Another biker stopped, he said he would pull into Moquegua and send a mechanic in a taxi. Then Ren said his friend was a moto mechanic in Tacna, about 1 1/2 hours further down the road, he rang him and after some negotiation he agreed to come out. Ren and I chatted using my Spanish/English phrasebook, it was a slow conversation. His mate arrived after a couple of hours, had a chain link which fitted (I bought two more off him) then he followed me into Tacna to make sure I made it. I gave Ren some 'beer money', he had earned it.

 

 

'god damn gringos ....' Ren has a moment, first aid in the desert, an amazing guy.

 

So, no border today, stayed in Tacna and watched as they prepared for a celebration the following day, marching bands and flags, I would have missed that if the chain hadn't broken. That chain link had held since Guatemala, it had more than done it's job, with another link on I decided to keep my speed down to around 100kmh from now on.

 

One of those trip things, from 'how am I gonna get out of this ?' to meeting a couple of bikers, the mechanic and his mate, celebrations in Tacna ... great people, very patient, so helpful. I like Peru.

 

Chile tomorrow then. 

 

 

 

 

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