Well three of them were, but I'll get to that in a minute. This is a biggie I'm afraid, so strap yourselves in....
So, its been a whole week since my last post, and by crikey things have been happening! Mendoza was a nice break, although I was victim to a scam artist...sort of. My good nature allowed him to talk to me for a bit, this bloke on the street, and he was very polite and spoke slowly so I could follow what he was saying, but then he started asking about how much money I had etc and before I knew it he was holding a wedge of my cash and did some kind of magic trick where he mixed it with water in his hand, it turned into purple mush and vanished, before he revealed it in his other hand. Very clever and worth a couple of bob I guess, but it made me rather uncomfortable when he wouldn't give my cash back when I asked him to, until he'd done his trick. Still, I reckon you need to get stung once at least to learn to avoid wasps!
Anyhoo, we ended up staying in Mendoza an extra day cos it peed down, and when we left, we decided to take the old road back to Uspallata, then head north to Calingasta - about 250km I guess, mostly on gravel. The first part was fine, out past Villa Valencia, into the desert and a bit of an incline. Then the fog rolled in, but the people in Mendoza had told us that if it was foggy this side of the mountain, it'd be clear on the other, so on and up we soldiered.
True to their word, we eventually broke through the fog and clouds, out of the damp and into the sunshine, with some glorious views (we're getting used to those!). We continued up, higher and higher, until some traces of snow lined the road (can you guess where this is going? We didn't.), and then, in shady places, a bit of snow would be in the road, but easily skirted around. And up we went. And lo, the snow it got more plentiful, and the road more slippy, and still we went up, and the worse it got. Eventually, after slipping off the bike a couple of times and being passed by cars that were giving up and turning round, I suggested maybe the conditions were a bit extreme for bikes. Rich figured it couldn't be far to the top, and the sun on the other side would have melted the snow, so why not plod on? Somewhat reluctantly, I agreed and I think we both regretted the decision fairly smartly. By this stage we had worked out (by we, I mean Rich) that riding in the new snow on the verges was easier than the packed stuff - not rocket science, I grant you, but I was preoccupied by trying to stay on my bike at walking pace - so I slipped, slid and dropped my way ever upwards into more and more snow, and no sign of the top any time soon. Rich was faring a little better, but even he came a cropper once or twice, and every time I slid off, he'd stop and help me pick my bike up again, which was jolly team-spirited of him.
It was a long day, let me tell you, and the snow on the other side of the hill was just as bad, and progress painfully slow, not to mention just plain painful at times. At one point we stopped for a drink of coke with a family at the side of the road, and they assured us it was only 4km more of snow, then clear roads. What they also mentined was that the snow got deeper first. Oh goody.
By the time my odometer had clocked up 4km, I had traveled about 300m, on account of the poor traction, so we soon lost track of how far we'd gone and how far was left. I was shattered by now, having dropped the bike countless times, and poor old Rich was just as tired from having to help pick it up or push me out of a stuck situation. I was able to return the favour from time to time, but his superior skills kept him out of trouble most fo the time and I'm afraid to say I was starting to feel a bit of a burden. Gotta be grateful to Rich for never losing his patience, despite my tendancy to treat each fall in the tried and tested McMullen fashion of swearing like a sailor with turettes (sp?) syndrome. I doubt you have to be a biker to appreciate how much snow is NOT our friend, however picturesque it looks!
As in all good fairy stories though, good triumphed over snow, and we rolled into Uspallata about 8 hours and 100km after leaving Mendoza. Always looking for silver linings, at least it was sunny and not too cold, and snow not mud, which would have been just as slippy but a thousand times dirtier. And we also got a night in Uspallata, at the youth hostel out of town, where we had a fantastic night, camped out in -5C, and joined some locals on a bank holiday weekend break for their Asado (Argy BBQ), which was a hugely entertaining and vastly more genuine experience than we'd ever have got in a cafe or restaurant. We also made some good friends, got some addresses to stay at in Buenos Aires, and I had my luggage rack unbent by Nico, a mechanic from BA on his holidays. All in all it was one of those whole experiences that starts you off asking "what the hell am I doing here?", then reveals exactly why you're there, like some kind of Karmic wizard.
After that, we headed north to Calingaste, through a wide valley bordered by snowy mountains, had a night there, then moved on to near San Jose de Jachal, to a gap on the river bank near a town called Huaco. The camp site was well hidden from the road and free, so you can't argue with that!
The next day we figured, after asking in a number of Info huts, to take the Ruta 150 to San Agustin. The short route, it was, with the plan of getting to SA and having an early stop and a day off. It was a great road, and hugely enjoyable, with a couple of shallow river crossings to make life interesting. However (isn't there always a "however"?), we got to within 20km of the end of the road, 60km or so under our belts on the gravel, when we ran into a road construction crew. Constructing the road. They found it very amusing when we explained where we were trying to get to, and kindly showed us on our map exactly where we were, before making it very clear we weren't going to be going any further. In fact, the man said, even on horses we wouldn't get through. They asked if the police road block had not told us the problem? We said the policeman just waved us through (in retrospect, he may have been indicating which road to take, but he didn't try and and stop us when we took the other road) They invited us to wait while the finished. Four years, give or take. Inevitably, we turned around, and just as we were heading off back the way we'd come, the chief party pooper pointed to a bird - our first condor in fact - and helpfully said "If you go by condor you will make it!" So back we went. And it was just as scenic from the other direction, and I even got some video footage, which may be too long to load on to Youtube, so may have to be viewed on DVD when I post it back to the UK. When we got back to the tarmac, we went north to Valle de Union, up the side of a huge empty desert with another condor, then, at Union, we went south down the other side of the desert, with another condor. Or maybe the same one, they stay pretty high, so its not always easy to tell them apart. We eventually got into San Agustin far later than planned, and 450 long and boring km later (long arduous day #2), for our well earned rest day. I went to the Valle de la luna, and Rich stayed home and played with the bikes. Hopefully some vid will be on Youtube of my day out (apologies if its a bit dull, but its more for my benefit on this occasion). The second night we followed directions 8km out of town to a camp site. What the directions failed to mention was the 10 or so river crossings we'd need to make to get there, but all well and good and we found a great little spot to stay the night.
Next day, we figured it was time to make some progress west, so we decided on a tarmac day to some destination or other never reached. Yes, as per the opening line, this is the 3rd long arduous day. Started well, though, except we missed the road out of SA that we'd been looking for. No worries, mate, we'll take the next left about 20km further on, no biggie. Except after half an hour on deeper sand than I was used to, we pretty much came to a dead end at some old farm buildings. For the second time, the map had sold us a red herring! Back we went, getting used to the sand, and back down the main road. Eventually, 15km before the actual turn, we spotted a gravel road that the map said would save us some distance, so down we went. Not a pleasant road, I have to say, with quite a lot of sand, some of it proper deep, so extreme caution was used (by me, anyway, Rich was off like a rat up a drainpipe), but all to no avail. I am proud to report that my first crash happened on this road (don't panic mum, it was only technically a crash, being as it happend at a faster pace than a "drop"). I hit a patch of super deep and extended sand, which slowed me down suddenly from about 30km/h to 20, and over I went. Unfortunatley, as the handle bars got embedded in the sand, they bent a bit, not that I realised this straight away, as when I picked the bike up, I managed to do so that successfully that I tipped it over on to its other side. Up it came again, and off I set, spitting sand, only to come a cropper in the same patch of sand 3m further on. You can probably picture the look of joy on my face, if you try really hard. Go on, try, see if you can. Up for the third time, out of the sand, and that was when I realised the bars weren't really pointing where I thought they should be (still got that happy picture of me in your head? Now, times it by 10.). It was at this point things began to get better. And when I say better, of course I mean worse. First, I met Rich coming back the other way. Not, as I thought to see what was holding me up, but because there was a locked gate up the road, and we couldn't get out, so we were going to have to turn round. Again. Bent bars for nothing I thought. Rich was impressed to notice, at this point, that I had thought to let some air out of my back tyre to improve traction through the sand. This surprised me somewhat, as I had done no such thing. Yes. Icing on the cake time, I had a puncure, in the desert. In a really sandy part of the desert with no firm ground ideal for changing tyres, just soft sand, no good at all for changing tyres on. Still got that picture in your head? Add a bit of colour to it. Somehow I had run over a nail. Surely not in the desert, probably at the side of the road, but it had done its job and given all the air an escape route.
An hour later, having had the wheel and half the tyre off, we had patched the hole and put everything back together and were heading back to the road, me even slower than usual due to shaken confidence in the sand due to the fall, and also to the wonky bars which were very unnerving in the sand, though not so bad on the road. In the end, later than planned, we found a B&B in a town called Chepes, where we tried to sort my bars out, as the newly adjusted riding position caused my left hand to go numb (useful in certain circumstances, so I'm led to believe, but not when riding a motorbike). And this is when the silver lining to Long and Arduous Day 3 was revealed. The bloke who owned the beer shop next to the B&B knew a bloke who could straighten the bars, so, after unsuccessfully trying to do it ourselves, I hopped on the back of his scooter for the most terrifying 3 minutes riding so far in South America, to his mates workshop. Five minutes later, having been laughed at a bit (and lets face it, I was beginning to see the funny side...almost) I was presented with a set of perfectly straight bars. A miracle, I hear you cry. Well, its what I said anyway, and between us we re-named the bloke Fernando Da Vinci. And things got better from there. Our new friend, Juan Manuel (yes, he really was called Manuel!)'s wife owned the shop next door, and her parents owned the pizzaria round the corner...and who should her father have been? Why, none other than Mr Da Vinci, of course! So we ended up having a big family experience in the family pizza shop, with lots of beer and laughter and broken spanish, got given a new (and hopefully reliable secon- hand map), and what had been a pretty crappy day ended on a massive high.
For now, that ought to do. We are currently having at least one, and maybe two days off in a small holiday town called Capilla del Monte near to Cordoba, staying in a beautifully tranquil camp site run by ex-2nd-in-Argentina mountain biker Victor. Today, I ran up a mountain (we're at about 950m already, and the summit was 1979m - 1000m up, about 6km of track), and had a fall 5 minutes before reaching the bottom, taking a good chunk out of my left knee, but that is a story for another day. Til then, hope you enjoyed the latest, sorry it was so long, but who'd o' guessed so much would happen on this trip, huh?
Monday, August 25, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
...And They're Off!
Its only been a few days since the last update, but we're off into the big unknown tomorrow so thought I'd throw in a quickie in case I forget anything.
The morning after the 80's revival night, we followed some friends out to the small fishing village of Quintay, about 30km south of Valpo. One of our friends has an uncle who owns a seafood restaurant on the beach front (photos will be forthcoming), so we went there and got shouted lunch. It was a beautiful spot, virtually unspoiled by tourists (we tried to leave it that way) and used almost solely by locals or near-locals. Rich had a length of deed fried conger eel and chips, and I had swordfish and chips, or maybe it was swordwhale, given the size of the slice! It was a crazy place, and Rich managed to narrowly avoid a social faux pas in the bathroom, by identifying the rubbish bin for what it was almost as soon as he'd mistaken it for the toilet bowl. Still, seeing as the bin is for used paper (primitive plumbing rules here), I don't think anyone will mind too much. And, as far as I know, there were no witnesses...
Later that evening we went to some other friends for dinner (homemade pizza and pissco sour - a marguerhita style drink that's very tart) followed by a party in a bar hosted, if that's the right word, by a Londoner with a Clash-esque band which none of the locals could understand. No fault of theirs though, we both struggled, it has to be said, but it was loud and had a good beat, and when he'd finished he spun the wheels of steel with the obligatory 80's mix, which, no doubt, was what the locals were waiting for!
And then, almost in the blink of an eye, we were off. The day we left we detoured to Laguna Verde to collect a key for a flat in Santiago where we to stay that night. Unfortunately LV is off the main road a bit...quite a bit...in fact, so far that I got my first taste of rutted mud tracks and steep hills, so a nice little starter for 10 there! I passed with flying colours though, didn't fall off or drop the bike at all, but we failed to find the house we were looking for, so resorted to phoning up from the mian road and waiting for them to bring it to us.
Off to Santiago, then. easy motorway riding to get there, then chaotic rush hour traffic to find the appartment building, including a ridiculously long traffic jam in a ridiculously long tunnel full of absurdley smokey vehicles, so it wasn't long before we were (carefully) weaving our way through the traffic to escape. That evening we met up with a friend of mine from the UK, Tatiana Storie, who visites her family in Santiago every year. We had a great eveing with her, getting more Pissco and another free feed, before back to the flat and an impromtu wine evening with our host and some of her friends. Luckily the wine ran out about 3am, so an early night for once...
Next day was to be our first crossing of the Andes. I expect there to be many more, and having completed ne, I am sure there will be. It was every bit as spectacular as I expect you can imagine, and more so. At one point, I looked ahead at the side of the sheed hill and saw, amongst the massive snow drifts, what appeared to be terraces, like you'd see in a the side of a deep open cast mine. the terraces were in fact the road, switching back on itself with startling regularity, barely seeming to make any progress up the hill for each turn back. Despite the enormous amounts of snow, the roads were incredibly clear and dry, however and the riding superb. The temperature dropped to a minimum of -0.4C at one point, but gear was up to the challenge and we didn't freeze. At the top was the San Pedro Tunnel - 3km long through to the otherside of the mountain - which delivered us to the border and Argentina.
We made it through customs with minimum of effort. On the Chilean side, we had our bike importation documents taken, but were assured we'd be given new ones in Argentina. So we got our gear on, wrapped up warm, got on the bikes ready for the trip through no-man's land to the Argentinian border, set off, and were flagged down 5m on at the next booth. We'd made it to Argentina! Once again, Lady Luck smiled on us and passing businessman took pity on us and filled in all our complicated foreign forms, so we were through there in no time. Easy.
On the way out of the covered customs area, the Argy side was less clear on the roads, and I slid off my bike just out of sight of the customs boys, which saved me a little face from them, but not Rich, who manfully helped pick my bike up. On down the mountain to Uspallata for the night, a tiny developing ski town (give it 5 years and it'll be a Mecca for snow bunnies I reckon), and the next day it was off to Mendoza for a bit of well-earned R&R. Which is where I am now, and where I have run out of time on the computer. We're going vaguely north tomorrow, heading roughly to Paraguay, so I will keep you all posted soon. Until then, perhaps you could tell me: ¿Cuanto es el Perro en la ventuna?
The morning after the 80's revival night, we followed some friends out to the small fishing village of Quintay, about 30km south of Valpo. One of our friends has an uncle who owns a seafood restaurant on the beach front (photos will be forthcoming), so we went there and got shouted lunch. It was a beautiful spot, virtually unspoiled by tourists (we tried to leave it that way) and used almost solely by locals or near-locals. Rich had a length of deed fried conger eel and chips, and I had swordfish and chips, or maybe it was swordwhale, given the size of the slice! It was a crazy place, and Rich managed to narrowly avoid a social faux pas in the bathroom, by identifying the rubbish bin for what it was almost as soon as he'd mistaken it for the toilet bowl. Still, seeing as the bin is for used paper (primitive plumbing rules here), I don't think anyone will mind too much. And, as far as I know, there were no witnesses...
Later that evening we went to some other friends for dinner (homemade pizza and pissco sour - a marguerhita style drink that's very tart) followed by a party in a bar hosted, if that's the right word, by a Londoner with a Clash-esque band which none of the locals could understand. No fault of theirs though, we both struggled, it has to be said, but it was loud and had a good beat, and when he'd finished he spun the wheels of steel with the obligatory 80's mix, which, no doubt, was what the locals were waiting for!
And then, almost in the blink of an eye, we were off. The day we left we detoured to Laguna Verde to collect a key for a flat in Santiago where we to stay that night. Unfortunately LV is off the main road a bit...quite a bit...in fact, so far that I got my first taste of rutted mud tracks and steep hills, so a nice little starter for 10 there! I passed with flying colours though, didn't fall off or drop the bike at all, but we failed to find the house we were looking for, so resorted to phoning up from the mian road and waiting for them to bring it to us.
Off to Santiago, then. easy motorway riding to get there, then chaotic rush hour traffic to find the appartment building, including a ridiculously long traffic jam in a ridiculously long tunnel full of absurdley smokey vehicles, so it wasn't long before we were (carefully) weaving our way through the traffic to escape. That evening we met up with a friend of mine from the UK, Tatiana Storie, who visites her family in Santiago every year. We had a great eveing with her, getting more Pissco and another free feed, before back to the flat and an impromtu wine evening with our host and some of her friends. Luckily the wine ran out about 3am, so an early night for once...
Next day was to be our first crossing of the Andes. I expect there to be many more, and having completed ne, I am sure there will be. It was every bit as spectacular as I expect you can imagine, and more so. At one point, I looked ahead at the side of the sheed hill and saw, amongst the massive snow drifts, what appeared to be terraces, like you'd see in a the side of a deep open cast mine. the terraces were in fact the road, switching back on itself with startling regularity, barely seeming to make any progress up the hill for each turn back. Despite the enormous amounts of snow, the roads were incredibly clear and dry, however and the riding superb. The temperature dropped to a minimum of -0.4C at one point, but gear was up to the challenge and we didn't freeze. At the top was the San Pedro Tunnel - 3km long through to the otherside of the mountain - which delivered us to the border and Argentina.
We made it through customs with minimum of effort. On the Chilean side, we had our bike importation documents taken, but were assured we'd be given new ones in Argentina. So we got our gear on, wrapped up warm, got on the bikes ready for the trip through no-man's land to the Argentinian border, set off, and were flagged down 5m on at the next booth. We'd made it to Argentina! Once again, Lady Luck smiled on us and passing businessman took pity on us and filled in all our complicated foreign forms, so we were through there in no time. Easy.
On the way out of the covered customs area, the Argy side was less clear on the roads, and I slid off my bike just out of sight of the customs boys, which saved me a little face from them, but not Rich, who manfully helped pick my bike up. On down the mountain to Uspallata for the night, a tiny developing ski town (give it 5 years and it'll be a Mecca for snow bunnies I reckon), and the next day it was off to Mendoza for a bit of well-earned R&R. Which is where I am now, and where I have run out of time on the computer. We're going vaguely north tomorrow, heading roughly to Paraguay, so I will keep you all posted soon. Until then, perhaps you could tell me: ¿Cuanto es el Perro en la ventuna?
Sunday, August 10, 2008
They're Under Starters Orders...
Wow. Culture shock and awe going on here. It's day 4 right now and my head is spinning with the sights, sounds, smells, language, beer, you name it, its probably making my head spin right now. I've had it pretty easy so far, it has to be said. I was met at the airport by a friend of a friend who, after having to wait 1 1/2 hours for my late arrival then offered to drive me the 120km to Valparaiso, thus saving me the trials of finding bus stops and buying tickets. Result, and thank you, Anamaría! My initial attempts at carefully rehearsed phrases I thought I would need when I met Anamaría dissolved into a confused mix of Frenish (or maybe Spench?) as nerves took over. Fortunately, Anamaría spoke pretty good English, so I had an impromptu Spanish lesson as we drove to Valparaiso.
She dropped me off at the bus station in Valpo, where I met Rich, and we headed to his base, in the house of a Chilean guy called Daniel who he met one day when Daniel was checking out Rich's bike (still with me?). Daniel has almost no English and Rich had almost no Spanish, but with a mutual love of bikes, within a very short time they were best mates, and Daniel was offering his house and lock-up for sleeping and bike storage respectively, and the invitation included me.
We have developed a fairly symbiotic relationship as far as language goes, with us teaching Daniel and him teaching us, and it works well, if you abandon inhibitions, roll up your sleeves and just get miming. It is amazing what you can communicate with sound effects, extravagant gesticulations and big smiles! Add into the mix Daniel's large social network and you find yourself holding long and complicated conversations in a mixture of English, Spanish, French, German, Italian....and mime. Once initial shyness over trying to speak foreign went, I've found I'm really enjoying the challenge of it all.
Anyhow, the rest of Wednesday included beer, a walk round town, an attempted mugging (we were the victims, not the attackers) by a couple of school kids having a crack at the newly arrived gringo (maybe talking loudly in English in small alleys is not a good idea - I think it draws attention), and an impromptu knees up at home with some of Daniel's mates, lasting til the wee small hours and involving my introduction to Pisco, a local liquor made from grapes and possibly used for stripping paint.
Thursday introduced us to the joys of "Coffee with legs" and took us to the Port and my bike, and Daniel proved his worth once again by going above and beyond the call of duty by spending the whole day standing around with me waiting while people passed bits of paper around and around and around. Its a crazy system for sure, but I freed my bike in record time (only 7 hours - it took Rich 3 days). We celebrated by going to a seafood restaurant that Daniel knew (we are so far off the tourist trail, its great!) and I enjoyed (its all relative - up to this day, I've generally avoided shellfish) a bowl of shellfish soup, containing not just the shell fish, but also their shells, tubey bits and most of the sea bed, judging from the high sand content! I have quickly realised that I'll have to eat anything put in front of me, at least until I can understand the menus well enough to know what it is I've ordered! Big smiles and bellies full (of bread mostly), we popped home then out again to a local bar full of local people - like I said, Daniel is taking us to the heart of Valpo and we laugh at the silly tourists - with loads of people, a live band playing their own music and vodka and cokes served in such a way that there is almost no room for the coke. The people are so friendly and welcoming and before long (well, 2.30am) we were off for more beer at someone's house, before finally passing out on various sofas in the even wee-er small hours.
Yesterday was bike fiddling stuff and, for dinner, more peculiar local fare courtesy of Daniel's favourite cafe - some kind of cold jellied pork (or some other meat-like product) served in a bowl with raw, sliced onion and white kidney beans. Mmmm. Luckily there was bread and beer to wash it down so we put in a good showing and made like it was the best thing ever - which in a way it was, I suppose. We followed this up with a return to the local bar, which tonight had a DJ playing twin turntables with classic 80's vinyl with some Beatles thrown in for good measure. Duran Duran,Tears for Fears and Spandau Ballet never got such an enthusiastic reception! Its a crazy atmosphere with people sat at tables jumping up to dance when the mood took them, loads of booze and heaps of fun. We have coined a phrase, Richard and I:"Everything's normal in Chile". Seems to cover all eventualities...
So, that's what we've been up to, but what of Valparaiso itself? Well, for those of you familiar with Wellington in NZ, its the same kind of layout, i.e. a flat level strip round the seafront with massively steep hills covered in houses that seem to defy the laws of gravity and built of mostly corrugated tin and crossed fingers. The roads are tarmac in the town centre but crumbly concrete slabs and cobbles on the unfeasible steep hills (I have never driven up steeper) and crazy dogs leaping out of every corner. The sunsets are amazing and I can't wait to get out on the open road and see more of it.
Have to go now though, so just remember: Esta es un robo!
She dropped me off at the bus station in Valpo, where I met Rich, and we headed to his base, in the house of a Chilean guy called Daniel who he met one day when Daniel was checking out Rich's bike (still with me?). Daniel has almost no English and Rich had almost no Spanish, but with a mutual love of bikes, within a very short time they were best mates, and Daniel was offering his house and lock-up for sleeping and bike storage respectively, and the invitation included me.
We have developed a fairly symbiotic relationship as far as language goes, with us teaching Daniel and him teaching us, and it works well, if you abandon inhibitions, roll up your sleeves and just get miming. It is amazing what you can communicate with sound effects, extravagant gesticulations and big smiles! Add into the mix Daniel's large social network and you find yourself holding long and complicated conversations in a mixture of English, Spanish, French, German, Italian....and mime. Once initial shyness over trying to speak foreign went, I've found I'm really enjoying the challenge of it all.
Anyhow, the rest of Wednesday included beer, a walk round town, an attempted mugging (we were the victims, not the attackers) by a couple of school kids having a crack at the newly arrived gringo (maybe talking loudly in English in small alleys is not a good idea - I think it draws attention), and an impromptu knees up at home with some of Daniel's mates, lasting til the wee small hours and involving my introduction to Pisco, a local liquor made from grapes and possibly used for stripping paint.
Thursday introduced us to the joys of "Coffee with legs" and took us to the Port and my bike, and Daniel proved his worth once again by going above and beyond the call of duty by spending the whole day standing around with me waiting while people passed bits of paper around and around and around. Its a crazy system for sure, but I freed my bike in record time (only 7 hours - it took Rich 3 days). We celebrated by going to a seafood restaurant that Daniel knew (we are so far off the tourist trail, its great!) and I enjoyed (its all relative - up to this day, I've generally avoided shellfish) a bowl of shellfish soup, containing not just the shell fish, but also their shells, tubey bits and most of the sea bed, judging from the high sand content! I have quickly realised that I'll have to eat anything put in front of me, at least until I can understand the menus well enough to know what it is I've ordered! Big smiles and bellies full (of bread mostly), we popped home then out again to a local bar full of local people - like I said, Daniel is taking us to the heart of Valpo and we laugh at the silly tourists - with loads of people, a live band playing their own music and vodka and cokes served in such a way that there is almost no room for the coke. The people are so friendly and welcoming and before long (well, 2.30am) we were off for more beer at someone's house, before finally passing out on various sofas in the even wee-er small hours.
Yesterday was bike fiddling stuff and, for dinner, more peculiar local fare courtesy of Daniel's favourite cafe - some kind of cold jellied pork (or some other meat-like product) served in a bowl with raw, sliced onion and white kidney beans. Mmmm. Luckily there was bread and beer to wash it down so we put in a good showing and made like it was the best thing ever - which in a way it was, I suppose. We followed this up with a return to the local bar, which tonight had a DJ playing twin turntables with classic 80's vinyl with some Beatles thrown in for good measure. Duran Duran,Tears for Fears and Spandau Ballet never got such an enthusiastic reception! Its a crazy atmosphere with people sat at tables jumping up to dance when the mood took them, loads of booze and heaps of fun. We have coined a phrase, Richard and I:"Everything's normal in Chile". Seems to cover all eventualities...
So, that's what we've been up to, but what of Valparaiso itself? Well, for those of you familiar with Wellington in NZ, its the same kind of layout, i.e. a flat level strip round the seafront with massively steep hills covered in houses that seem to defy the laws of gravity and built of mostly corrugated tin and crossed fingers. The roads are tarmac in the town centre but crumbly concrete slabs and cobbles on the unfeasible steep hills (I have never driven up steeper) and crazy dogs leaping out of every corner. The sunsets are amazing and I can't wait to get out on the open road and see more of it.
Have to go now though, so just remember: Esta es un robo!
Saturday, June 28, 2008
A watched pot...
This is getting silly now. I still have 20 days before I get to leave NZ, and I'm starting to get a bit tetchy. I just want to get underway, even if that just means starting my 2 weeks in the UK. Anything's gotta be better than killing time at work (never thought I'd hear myself think that! I love my job!). I haven't even got my bike to play with any more. Probably just as well, given my kak-handedness. I have two short stories of ineptitude where learning about the bike is concerned, for those that are interested, and here they are.
The first centres around the inner tubes. I was reasonably successful at taking the wheels off the bike, and the tyres off the rims, all be it with some grunting and groaning over the back one. Mark the mechanic very wisely tried to recreate 'the side of the road' in the workshop for realism, so tyre irons only were allowed...until the back tyre wouldn't budge, so he used his fancy machine to get me started. Anyway, all good: tube off, new tube back on, and in a first-attempt show of generosity, Mark even let me balance the wheel on a small steel drum to give me more leverage to get the tyre back on, while the other guy in the shop showed me how to bash the tyre on with a judical mix of leaning on the bead with one hand and a knee, and bashing the other part on with a rubber mallet. All going well, until I started to get a bit tired (ahh, those puns again) and managed to clout my supporting arm instead of the bead. While all my weight was on it. Leaning forward.
It was, I suspect, one of the more graceful manoevers ever performed in the workshop, as I fell in an elegant forward roll, perfected in the ninja dojos of the world, over the top of the wheel, onto my head, while carefully protecting the not-so-delicate yet surprisingly hard and pointy sprocket with my groin. Or maybe the sprocket protected my groin from the ground, its hard to say. Lets just say, they weren't tears of joy at my first success that were coursing down my cheeks...I learned a lesson.
The front was easy after that...except I managed to dig 3 large holes in the new, expensive, heavy duty inner tube as I tried to put the tyre back on. I learned some more.
The other tale of woe was the new battery, which only asked to be filled on a level surface, so I picked one of those optically illusional level surfaces, and so managed to spill a quantity of the acid on the ground. Probably got enough in there though, should be alright....now I just have to charge it (easy!). Except the charger wasn't working, so one of the guys moved it to another plug, one without an adaptor to regulate the in-going current (can you tell I have no idea what I'm talking about? No? How kind of you...). Shortly afterwards, the carefully inserted, impossible to remove black plastic caps used to stopper the filling holes were firing across the workshop like some kind of low budget special effect. Needle in a haystack doesn't come close. Those caps did not want to be found amongst the Frankenstein's laboratory of bike parts. Never mind, just think how powerful my battery will be now, with all that extra electricity in it...
Well, I hope its enjoying its trip in the box, it'll only be a few weeks out of Valparaiso by now. Closer than me anyway. Is that what they mean by 'bike envy'? Hey ho, on with the Spanish lessons. Hasta luego....or something...
The first centres around the inner tubes. I was reasonably successful at taking the wheels off the bike, and the tyres off the rims, all be it with some grunting and groaning over the back one. Mark the mechanic very wisely tried to recreate 'the side of the road' in the workshop for realism, so tyre irons only were allowed...until the back tyre wouldn't budge, so he used his fancy machine to get me started. Anyway, all good: tube off, new tube back on, and in a first-attempt show of generosity, Mark even let me balance the wheel on a small steel drum to give me more leverage to get the tyre back on, while the other guy in the shop showed me how to bash the tyre on with a judical mix of leaning on the bead with one hand and a knee, and bashing the other part on with a rubber mallet. All going well, until I started to get a bit tired (ahh, those puns again) and managed to clout my supporting arm instead of the bead. While all my weight was on it. Leaning forward.
It was, I suspect, one of the more graceful manoevers ever performed in the workshop, as I fell in an elegant forward roll, perfected in the ninja dojos of the world, over the top of the wheel, onto my head, while carefully protecting the not-so-delicate yet surprisingly hard and pointy sprocket with my groin. Or maybe the sprocket protected my groin from the ground, its hard to say. Lets just say, they weren't tears of joy at my first success that were coursing down my cheeks...I learned a lesson.
The front was easy after that...except I managed to dig 3 large holes in the new, expensive, heavy duty inner tube as I tried to put the tyre back on. I learned some more.
The other tale of woe was the new battery, which only asked to be filled on a level surface, so I picked one of those optically illusional level surfaces, and so managed to spill a quantity of the acid on the ground. Probably got enough in there though, should be alright....now I just have to charge it (easy!). Except the charger wasn't working, so one of the guys moved it to another plug, one without an adaptor to regulate the in-going current (can you tell I have no idea what I'm talking about? No? How kind of you...). Shortly afterwards, the carefully inserted, impossible to remove black plastic caps used to stopper the filling holes were firing across the workshop like some kind of low budget special effect. Needle in a haystack doesn't come close. Those caps did not want to be found amongst the Frankenstein's laboratory of bike parts. Never mind, just think how powerful my battery will be now, with all that extra electricity in it...
Well, I hope its enjoying its trip in the box, it'll only be a few weeks out of Valparaiso by now. Closer than me anyway. Is that what they mean by 'bike envy'? Hey ho, on with the Spanish lessons. Hasta luego....or something...
Thursday, June 5, 2008
How it all began
Hi. Welcome to my blog. Come on in, pull up a chair and make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink? Tea? Or something stronger? Help yourself to a nibble....
So this is it. The start of my blog site, set up solely as a record of the preparation undertaken for my trip to South America, and ultimately an account of what happens when we get over there, but you'll have to be patient, that's not until 6th August. Hopefully my writing style will improve with practice, so bear with me through the early days, and I will try not to bore to death anyone misguided enough to be reading this!
I meant to start something like this ages ago, and today, 5th June, I finally pulled finger! Hoorah! So I’ll try and kick off with a quick summary of what it is I'm actually going to be doing and a few pre-trip thoughts and stuff. Hold on tight...
Well, on 6th August I'll be arriving in Santiago, Chile where I'll be meeting up with hardened, veteran, global biker Richard Humphreys, a mate from way back in the UK. We (that'll be Rich and Me from now on) will then spend (if things go to plan) the majority of the next 10 months traveling about the place on our motorbikes - his is a Suzuki DR650, mine a Yamaha XT600 (yes, yes, get it out of your system now, his is bigger than mine haw, haw. I expected better of you, I really did!). Without having a rigid schedule or route plan in mind, we will head vaguely north towards Bolivia, then east through Paraguay, into Brazil, down to Uruguay, into Argentina, then south as far as time allows, back up through Chile, maybe into Bolivia again, then into Peru, Ecuador, Colombia and, again if time allows, into Central America, with the ultimate goal of shipping out of Mexico some time in May next year. 16 countries in 10 months. Marvellous! Of course, many a slip twixt cup and lip, as they say, so who knows what the final score will be, but I'm as interested to find out as I hope you are!
Along the way we'll be stopping here and there to enjoy the countries, and, hopefully, working on a voluntary basis for the Bruce Organisation (check the link on the left) at various times on our travels. In addition to this, we are offering you, the discerning reader, the esteemed visitor to this blog site, the opportunity to donate to any or all of the 3 charities listed, as many times as you like over the next 10 months and, indeed, beyond. They are Helen and Douglas House in the UK, the National Burn Centre in NZ and the Bruce Organisation, who work throughout South America. Please take a few minutes to check out their web sites and find out more about what they all do, and please donate as much as you can afford on our behalf, through the charity donation links provided.
Anyhow, enough of the business stuff, back to the trip. So far, we've not done much but planning, and if I’m honest, not much (surely not enough) of that! We have had a few meetings and discussions about bikes and routes etc, but that’s about it really. Makes me laugh.
I have watched training videos…OK, I watched the DVD of Ewan McGregor and Charlie Boorman go round the world and the one where they go down through Africa, which I found pretty good training in some respects - it gave me an awareness of some of the social dynamic issues that we might encounter at least. Put another way, we are bound to piss each other off, probably quite regularly, but at the end of the day we’re there to have fun, so build a bridge and get over it. It was reassuring in a way to see it happening to other people and a bit of a heads up for me. Also, I found the shows useful for seeing just how rough the riding could get, but also how amazing the trip is going to be, if I hadn’t already worked that out for myself…which I think I had.
The thing that disturbed me most was the amount of planning they did for a 3 month trip, where as we are going for 10 months and seem to have done bugger all. I guess it becomes a bit moot after x amount of time, though. It won’t be much different whether its 3 or 10 months I don’t suppose. We’ll smell, be tired, see crazy stuff and want time off from riding, regardless of how long we keep riding, and I dare say we’ll take it all on the chin. Still, we haven’t been to the geographic office to check maps, we’ve only briefly been in touch with embassies to check visa requirements and we certainly don’t have a warehouse full of fancy free gear. I actually have a small cardboard box in the corner of my bedroom that has some bits and pieces of stuff that might come in useful. And as for the bikes, well I have spent most of the last couple of weeks down at Boyle's Kawasaki bike shop getting a crash (pardon the pun) course in basic bike fixing. Its been great and I have learned heaps, most of which I will probably have forgotten by the time I need to use it! Thanks Mark, you did your best, if it all goes to custard, its down to me!
Nonetheless, I have changed my fuel tank for a long-distance one, swapped on new brake pads, sprockets, tyres and inner tubes, a chain and got a big horn (oo-er). When I collect the bike in Valparaiso, I'll attach a loobman to keep me greased up (double oo-er), and I should be set. I still need a bit of practice, obviously, and seem to get through more inner tubes than I have wheels, but I expect cold dark nights on a high mountain top will prove to be an effective teacher. You can see the before-during-after photos by following the link (no donation required there, I promise!)
So, South America, huh? Not long to go now... Am I excited? Definitely. Scared? You bet. Questioning the wisdom of the decision? Why, certainly. Still going to go? Try and stop me!
So why am I doing it? Simple question I guess, and probably deserves an answer of sorts. South America has always been somewhere I’ve wanted to go, though I never expected to do it quite like this. The opportunity arose, thanks to Rich it has to be said, so why not take it? Initially, his plans were to go earlier in the year so I wasn’t able to join him, as far as my career was concerned. Then a few things changed, like his timetable and me passing exams and courses, and it suddenly seemed possible. I thought I’d join him there a few months in to his trip, but it seems I’m in for the whole shebang now, so that slightly surprised me. Obviously I’m going for the incredible experience its going to be, but we also discussed how we could make it about other people too. So, we decided to try and do some voluntary work in Peru for the Bruce Organisation, to which I'm really looking forward, and also we are going to try and raise some money for them and for a couple of other charities too (check the links at the top) - one in the UK (cos we’re Brits) and one in NZ (cos we both live and work there). That way most people we know, regardless of where they live, will be able to donate to a charity in their country, and a few can pick one or t'other or indeed all three. We have set up online donation sites for them, so we won’t be handling any of the money ourselves, or have the hassle of sharing it out, which is great. 100% of money donated goes to the charity of your choice, and if you tick the right boxes on the donation pages, both you and they can claim back some tax on it, which has got to be good, right? No idea if anyone will give anything (our sales pitch will be via this blog and an email along the lines of ‘we’re off having a fantastic time, if you’re jealous, or think we’re mad, or are just generous by nature, give money to our cause and help others not as lucky as us’. Could work...its down to you...), but I reckon this internet thing is a bit magical in some ways, and the message will be passed around (I hope) and potentially reach thousands of wallets - I mean people - and we could end up raising thousands. Or nothing. But at least we tried!
Well, that'll do for now, its an introduction of sorts, and its got the blog underway. Tune in next time for a run down of how incompetent I am at bike mechanics. Unfortunately the fun stuff about South America will have to wait until I get there. So, until then, you stay classy, San Diego.
So this is it. The start of my blog site, set up solely as a record of the preparation undertaken for my trip to South America, and ultimately an account of what happens when we get over there, but you'll have to be patient, that's not until 6th August. Hopefully my writing style will improve with practice, so bear with me through the early days, and I will try not to bore to death anyone misguided enough to be reading this!
I meant to start something like this ages ago, and today, 5th June, I finally pulled finger! Hoorah! So I’ll try and kick off with a quick summary of what it is I'm actually going to be doing and a few pre-trip thoughts and stuff. Hold on tight...
Well, on 6th August I'll be arriving in Santiago, Chile where I'll be meeting up with hardened, veteran, global biker Richard Humphreys, a mate from way back in the UK. We (that'll be Rich and Me from now on) will then spend (if things go to plan) the majority of the next 10 months traveling about the place on our motorbikes - his is a Suzuki DR650, mine a Yamaha XT600 (yes, yes, get it out of your system now, his is bigger than mine haw, haw. I expected better of you, I really did!). Without having a rigid schedule or route plan in mind, we will head vaguely north towards Bolivia, then east through Paraguay, into Brazil, down to Uruguay, into Argentina, then south as far as time allows, back up through Chile, maybe into Bolivia again, then into Peru, Ecuador, Colombia and, again if time allows, into Central America, with the ultimate goal of shipping out of Mexico some time in May next year. 16 countries in 10 months. Marvellous! Of course, many a slip twixt cup and lip, as they say, so who knows what the final score will be, but I'm as interested to find out as I hope you are!
Along the way we'll be stopping here and there to enjoy the countries, and, hopefully, working on a voluntary basis for the Bruce Organisation (check the link on the left) at various times on our travels. In addition to this, we are offering you, the discerning reader, the esteemed visitor to this blog site, the opportunity to donate to any or all of the 3 charities listed, as many times as you like over the next 10 months and, indeed, beyond. They are Helen and Douglas House in the UK, the National Burn Centre in NZ and the Bruce Organisation, who work throughout South America. Please take a few minutes to check out their web sites and find out more about what they all do, and please donate as much as you can afford on our behalf, through the charity donation links provided.
Anyhow, enough of the business stuff, back to the trip. So far, we've not done much but planning, and if I’m honest, not much (surely not enough) of that! We have had a few meetings and discussions about bikes and routes etc, but that’s about it really. Makes me laugh.
I have watched training videos…OK, I watched the DVD of Ewan McGregor and Charlie Boorman go round the world and the one where they go down through Africa, which I found pretty good training in some respects - it gave me an awareness of some of the social dynamic issues that we might encounter at least. Put another way, we are bound to piss each other off, probably quite regularly, but at the end of the day we’re there to have fun, so build a bridge and get over it. It was reassuring in a way to see it happening to other people and a bit of a heads up for me. Also, I found the shows useful for seeing just how rough the riding could get, but also how amazing the trip is going to be, if I hadn’t already worked that out for myself…which I think I had.
The thing that disturbed me most was the amount of planning they did for a 3 month trip, where as we are going for 10 months and seem to have done bugger all. I guess it becomes a bit moot after x amount of time, though. It won’t be much different whether its 3 or 10 months I don’t suppose. We’ll smell, be tired, see crazy stuff and want time off from riding, regardless of how long we keep riding, and I dare say we’ll take it all on the chin. Still, we haven’t been to the geographic office to check maps, we’ve only briefly been in touch with embassies to check visa requirements and we certainly don’t have a warehouse full of fancy free gear. I actually have a small cardboard box in the corner of my bedroom that has some bits and pieces of stuff that might come in useful. And as for the bikes, well I have spent most of the last couple of weeks down at Boyle's Kawasaki bike shop getting a crash (pardon the pun) course in basic bike fixing. Its been great and I have learned heaps, most of which I will probably have forgotten by the time I need to use it! Thanks Mark, you did your best, if it all goes to custard, its down to me!
Nonetheless, I have changed my fuel tank for a long-distance one, swapped on new brake pads, sprockets, tyres and inner tubes, a chain and got a big horn (oo-er). When I collect the bike in Valparaiso, I'll attach a loobman to keep me greased up (double oo-er), and I should be set. I still need a bit of practice, obviously, and seem to get through more inner tubes than I have wheels, but I expect cold dark nights on a high mountain top will prove to be an effective teacher. You can see the before-during-after photos by following the link (no donation required there, I promise!)
So, South America, huh? Not long to go now... Am I excited? Definitely. Scared? You bet. Questioning the wisdom of the decision? Why, certainly. Still going to go? Try and stop me!
So why am I doing it? Simple question I guess, and probably deserves an answer of sorts. South America has always been somewhere I’ve wanted to go, though I never expected to do it quite like this. The opportunity arose, thanks to Rich it has to be said, so why not take it? Initially, his plans were to go earlier in the year so I wasn’t able to join him, as far as my career was concerned. Then a few things changed, like his timetable and me passing exams and courses, and it suddenly seemed possible. I thought I’d join him there a few months in to his trip, but it seems I’m in for the whole shebang now, so that slightly surprised me. Obviously I’m going for the incredible experience its going to be, but we also discussed how we could make it about other people too. So, we decided to try and do some voluntary work in Peru for the Bruce Organisation, to which I'm really looking forward, and also we are going to try and raise some money for them and for a couple of other charities too (check the links at the top) - one in the UK (cos we’re Brits) and one in NZ (cos we both live and work there). That way most people we know, regardless of where they live, will be able to donate to a charity in their country, and a few can pick one or t'other or indeed all three. We have set up online donation sites for them, so we won’t be handling any of the money ourselves, or have the hassle of sharing it out, which is great. 100% of money donated goes to the charity of your choice, and if you tick the right boxes on the donation pages, both you and they can claim back some tax on it, which has got to be good, right? No idea if anyone will give anything (our sales pitch will be via this blog and an email along the lines of ‘we’re off having a fantastic time, if you’re jealous, or think we’re mad, or are just generous by nature, give money to our cause and help others not as lucky as us’. Could work...its down to you...), but I reckon this internet thing is a bit magical in some ways, and the message will be passed around (I hope) and potentially reach thousands of wallets - I mean people - and we could end up raising thousands. Or nothing. But at least we tried!
Well, that'll do for now, its an introduction of sorts, and its got the blog underway. Tune in next time for a run down of how incompetent I am at bike mechanics. Unfortunately the fun stuff about South America will have to wait until I get there. So, until then, you stay classy, San Diego.
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