Motorcycle Travellers' News Report - December 2014, 102nd Edition

"Sturdy, hardened to Mother Nature's ferocity and outwardly up-to-the-job, first impressions of our Yugoslavian-built seafaring vessel told me we'd be in capable hands. After an excited embarkation on the 'Sea Adventurer', I surveyed the scene aboard 100 metres of promenade-lined and plush surroundings: A gourmet dining room, library, personalised cabin service and a spacious lounge complete with an impressive coffee and cookie station. Punctuated mind you by a succession of sick bags, tucked into the ship's hand rails ubiquitously on every deck.

...We set sail from the Beagle Channel leaving behind us views of the fjords past Puerto Williams, pushing ever south. Into the legendary Drake Passage we ventured, named after the pioneering Sir Francis himself. With a swarm of wandering, black-browed and light mantled sooty albatross catching the updraft of our ship – dominating the scene in and around a cluster of cape petrels – I had to pinch myself we were really doing this. We were bound for the Antarctic! The last place on the Earth. The thought alone nearly knocked me sideways – grateful that the gentle boat sway didn't.

The Antarctic is a generic term for the Southern Polar region, everything south of latitude 66.5 degrees whereas Antarctica refers to the continental land mass in that region. Conceivably, Antarctica is home to 90 per cent of the world's ice – the largest single piece of ice on Earth that's up to 19 million square kilometres – and 70 per cent of all fresh water.

Time for reflection: Just kayaking off Antarctica, no big deal.

...Half Moon Island featured next on the itinerary; another supreme site for sea-kayaking. A prime location for penguins to amble across pebbled beaches too, beavering away at the construction of their homes. While whales occasionally spy-hopped, meaning they would poke out of the water 'nose up' for a stealthy peek at their prey, Antarctic terns dive-bombed for a quick bite to eat. The mountainside was a frozen region of towering ice with steep, jagged peaks. Some shed cold tears as they trickled down the ice face while my fingers marched a slow exploration of the sea ice, bobbing alongside us; exquisitely scalloped all over where waves and wind had intervened and left their design of existence. An audible and continuous 'snap, crackle and pop' diverted my attention away from anything else. I paused to take in the beauty of a world engulfed in crystal. Everything reflected light and contributed to the heightened brilliance of the late afternoon. I will sorely miss this place.

...Making it to Petermann Island was a sight to behold. Having taken its name from a German geographer and supporter of polar exploration, the island is home to 300 breeding pairs of Adélies and the most southerly colony of gentoos in Antarctica at around 2,000 breeding pairs. That's a pungent amount of penguin poop.

A busy colony of gentoos bustling about in the bay

...If the glacial temperatures of the Antarctic weren't quite racy enough for you, the staff offered a 'Polar Plunge'. Whether donning your bikini, budgie-smugglers or bathers, the idea of voluntarily jumping in for a head-to-toe dip seemed to hit a new level of crazy. My thought process rapidly established some mental balance: Tempting... but no. The 'before' and 'after' expressions were priceless on the 35 folks that opted in. Comedy gold mingled with just a hint of Schadenfreude – guys, you had my full respect. I felt only a tenth of their pain when volunteering to become an 'intentional swimmer', albeit in a dry suit. A mentalist I am not. In water less than one degree, I fully submerged and laughed hysterically in the watery process. Should've gone the whole hog!"

Going for a dip in water less than one degree…that's going to be nippy on the knockers!

"...some exciting news with you which could, potentially, revolutionise the overlanding route from Europe to Oceania. Myself and two fellow motorbikers (my hubby & a friend) have just successfully concluded a 2-month GUIDE-LESS traverse of China, from Kyrgyzstan to Laos.

Xinjinag: straight & flat for over 1,500 kms

From everything we gathered, this is the first LEGAL self-ride and guide-less tour of China. It took us 18 months to organize, and over a year to find an agent willing to hear us out. The law changed in China in 2013 making it perfectly legal for foreign overlanders to drive unaccompanied... yet finding an agent willing to accept and 'test' this was the hardest thing we've ever done!

Posing for pics with the locals

But we did it, and the agent is so pleased that all worked out well that he is willing to start offering this service to anyone interested in crossing China.

If you're interested have a quick read of my latest post, where I detail all.

...Be prepared for last minute changes/restrictions/conditions etc. The fact that China is essentially a conglomerate of different laws means that no two country crossings will ever be the same. YOUR situation, YOUR price and YOUR restrictions will very much depend on where you enter China, where you want to go and where you wish to exit. It will also depend on what is happening at the time in the provinces you wish to cross.

I'll give you our example: we wanted to cross into China from Kyrgyzstan and exit into Laos. We wished to take the southern route, along the Tibetan Plateau and well away from all major cities. Due to the ethnic tensions in Xinjiang just a few weeks prior to our entry, the local authorities were quite strict. We had to be at a specific border crossing on a specific date, meet a specific fixer there, and exit the province of Xinjiang again on a specific date at a specific provincial border post. It made no sense, really, but it mattered not: these were the conditions imposed upon us when we put in our application through Ricard, and that's what we had to do. If you happen to get a different person processing your application, then you may get a different set of rules (and price!) to adhere to. That's China. No hard and set rules for all; just whatever the guy who processes your application feels he needs to do.

Michael (1st left), Chris (tallest) and I (shortest!) with a group of foreign overlanders in Kashgar…and our shiny new Chinese driver's licences & plates!

No matter what, understand that things can change at the last minute (for whatever reason) and you will just have to adapt."

"We drove Peanut all the way east again towards the point where we started this trip, Halifax (Canada). We had been talking a lot the last few weeks and we had both come to the conclusion that we wanted to be on the motorbikes again, so we did the most illogical thing we could think of…

We shipped Peanut back to Belgium, we bought two Honda CB 1100 retro bikes and we are prepping them as we speak to fly them from Europe to Los Angeles to start the second stretch of our America's trip. A Honda CB some of you will think, that's not a proper adventure bike?! Well yes, we want to do something a bit more special on a one of a kind bike that once ruled the world of motorcycles!

The bikes will be flown over to Los Angeles somewhere the second week of December by James Cargo services, another one of our partners. We just have to drop off the bikes and the keys and they will do the rest so we don't have any stress before we start, great service!

On the 7th of December we will fly from London to Los Angeles to start another epic adventure on our bikes and we will make our way further south, direction of Argentina!"

"...We braved a visit to the 'dangerous' Centro. Here we visited the architecturally interesting Iglesia El Rosario, which is on the Plaza Libertad. This is the most interesting Church we have seen in Latin America. It was was created in 1971 by artist and architect Rubén Martinez. The exterior looks like a derelict airplane hangar from the old Soviet Union.

Inside there are no columns and only 3-4 electric bulbs. The walls are slatted concrete which both allow light and air flow inside. Embedding hunks of colored glass into the concrete walls and ceiling have created stained glass windows. On one wall it creates a large 'eye' looking down on the congregation. The Stations of the Cross are depicted in abstract sculptures created by Martinez in carved stone, wrought iron and re-bar. During the war it was the site of a huge murder of student protestors and you can still see the bullet holes peppering the facade."

"...We were both sick of Vegas by the time we hit the road again, and when we rolled into El Centro later that day, I was literally feeling sick. We decided to stay put and booked into a motel for a few days hoping I'd feel better. I had an ear ache and my head felt like it wanted to explode, both of which only seemed to get worse. Unfortunately my ear was bad enough that simply putting on my helmet was painful so riding anywhere far was out of the question. Our next stop was supposed to be Mexico but neither one of us wanted to go anywhere till this was sorted.

A visit to the local ER confirmed I had a bad case of allergies? Seriously? Allergies? Apparently allergies were the cause of some fluid building up behind my ear, which in turn caused an ear infection. Some Claritin and anti-biotic ear drops and I'd be right as rain. A few more days in El Centro it is then. What can I tell you about El Centro? It's the largest city in North America below sea level. It did also have a decent restaurant, Burgers & Beer, which was within walking distance and served up some surprisingly great food. Sadly those two highlights weren't enough to put it on the list of places to visit again. It's also incredibly dry here…how dry was it? In the time it took us to walk from the store to the motel, the grapes we bought had turned into raisins. You were lucky to actually feel water hitting your face when you turned on the shower, most of it would simply evaporate before it got to you. It was dry!

We stopped by at an outdoor market, sure was perdy!

We had initially planned on heading down the Baja coast but after spending a lot more time than planned in California and with our 6 day stop in El Centro, we made the decision to skip Baja all together and ride straight to mainland Mexico. Because of this, Lori suggested we ride a bit further east before crossing the border. With that, we finally managed to leave California... again.

With a few last minute items to take care of before entering Mexico, we landed in Tucson for a couple of nights over Thanksgiving. Thanks to a mystery hotel grab via Priceline for $39/night, we ended up at the very lovely Hampton Inn. Nice! For dinner, we walked across the road to the R & R Grill. Real turkey, mashed potato, stuffing, gravy and cranberry jelly, about as close as we could get to a home cooked Thanksgiving dinner.

Next stop…Mexico. GULP!"

"Before we knew it we'd ridden past all the guards, over the traffic calming measures, past customs and ridden straight into Mexico, without showing anyone our passport or bike documents! Knowing the formalities that we should have completed we knew this couldn't be right and it seemed almost comical that we'd managed to do so and I'm still amazed that we weren't challenged at all. The easiest and quickest border crossing in history. OK, so now we're in the middle of a bustling border town in Mexico with no official paperwork. Only one thing for it, Janette walked back to the border crossing to find someone to speak to and was told to park up and return on foot to the white building behind us to sort the documents. Taking turns to watch the bike and our stuff and armed with all the appropriate paperwork we quickly arranged and paid for our tourist visas and do the Temporary Import for the Bike. It was a little confusing but the staff clearly knew what they were doing and one of them spoke English which helped a lot. After about 45 minutes we had all the documents we needed and passports stamped so were able to hit the road.

The main carretera 2 (road) we were following had miles of construction work. The diversions are hastily prepared dirt 'tracks', sometimes watered to keep the dust down, and we tested Tigger's new boots taking him onto these often very muddy sections. This really slowed progress and it was beginning to get dark when we reached the first town where we had intended to stop for the night. Unfortunately the town did not have a bank and you often can't buy food or pay for a hotel on a card and we had to move on. One of our unwritten rules is don't ride at night and here we were, day one in Mexico, breaking that rule as we rode on to Magdalena de Kino where we able to check into a modern motel that took cards. There were also a number of banks/ATM's in town where we finally got some Mexican Pesos.

Due to Dave overfeeding us in Tucson, we didn't need to go out for many meals, but Janette was starting to get the feeling that being a vegetarian in Mexico was not going to be quite as easy as we had thought as pretty much everything had meat or fish and restaurant owners look at you blankly and eventually come up with 'ensalada' (salad) when asked if they have vegetarian food.

...Our next stop was Bahia de Kino Viejo – the old fishing town not the new part with RV parks for the snowbirds from Canada and USA. The Hotel Hacienda owned by John, a Californian expat, was our base. The hotel is built round a pleasant courtyard with a swimming pool and palm trees. We were the only guests in the hotel and I think in this part of town.

Old Bahia de Kino is a poor fishing town, people live simple lives catching fish, cleaning fishing boats, and generally scrape a living any way they can. There are a few simple fish restaurants or food stands if you want to eat out, certainly nothing fancy. Many of the roads are unpaved, there are lots of wild dogs, litter and broken pavements. Some of the houses are not much more than sheds being constructed from corrugated iron or plywood. However, having said that, we found people to be friendly, no-one pesters you to buy things or go on trips or give them money. It is just normal people going about their lives trying to do the best for themselves and their families. We really liked it.

Spending hours at the beach we were able to watch the pelicans and other birdlife fight for the unwanted scraps of fish the fisherman discarded back into the sea. Total birdy war would break out as every last piece was fought over. Once the din had died down the birds would just hang around until the next bucket of scraps was thrown into the sea, no hunting necessary.

The pier had obviously seen better days and back home would have been closed years ago. The shore end section was not too bad, but the second half was missing at least half of its decking and would necessitate jumping gaps to get to the end – we decided against it in order to preserve life and limb. The sunsets, with the island that the locals call Alcatraz, in the background we amazing. We have never seen such a deep red sky, it was absolutely wonderful."

"...I was still having trouble with my speedo and noticed Carson Motors just outside Manzini so I popped in the next morning and they replaced the special washer inside for 90 rand. Below is a picture of the old one. You can see how it's worn away where it wasn't seated properly. Unfortunately though this didn't totally fix my problem. The speedo is fine when you are accelerating but when you engine brake or cruise it's all over the place. I'm due a service soon so will have it sorted properly then. I reckon the part this washer meshes with is worn too.

That evening I had a few beers and a chat with Sergio the owner who rides a GS 1200. Also staying at Sundowners was Max who rides a KLR 650. We all agreed to head out the next day to explore one of Sergio's routes in the South West of Swaziland."

South West Swaziland

"I completed my Hindi booklet, it is a marvel! Thank you Tania, Joel, Chou, Lamyah and YMCA for your help.

...Bright and early Sunday morning we all met under a freeway pass for our Sunday breakfast ride.

I first thought I couldn't wait to be out of the Mumbai traffic, but it never happened.

Tomorrow morning, I start riding south by the coastal road from fishing village to fishing village..."

We've ridden across the valley to the Maitreya Buddha statue at Diskit Monastery in Ladakh, northern India.

"...Like desert areas in most parts of the world, there are camels here (admittedly it seemed a bit odd as we'd been admiring the yaks just the day before). The camels here are Bactrian ones - with two humps which is very rare in Asia, only the single humped camels live in this part of the world. This random group have descended from strays from the Middle Eastern camel caravans which followed the Silk Road in Marco Polo's times."

Camels waiting patiently

Who says camels aren't cute?

"Other riders and ride reports have been warning us for months, suggesting we 'avoid' Lima if at all possible. I've heard more warnings about Lima than any other city, including Mexico City. The traffic along the PanAm Highway and within 30 miles of the city of Lima is horrendous and has a well-deserved bad reputation. Buses and trucks cut us off left and right, cars are zipping all over the place, everyone honks and swerves without warning... it's crazy. I even take a photo of a bus that swerves and nearly hits Brian because I intend to write a letter to the government about it, but never take the time.

The drivers are crazy everywhere in Peru! And we see a car accident on a side street of Lima the morning after we arrive.

Thankfully we are off the bikes for a few days and enjoy the beautiful city of Lima. We wander along the clifftop walk near the seaside and watch surfers down below and paragliders above, even as they launch from the cliff."

From the Horizons Unlimited Motorcycle Travel page on Facebook, Michelle posted this note:

"Grant and Susan - I took this pic in the Cordillera Blanca this week after having ridden here from South Dakota. Just a couple of years ago was sitting at an HU meeting in Ontario learning how to be able to make this adventure possible for myself. Thank you for being an inspiration for those of who want/wanted to see and experience our world on a deeper level and for supporting and educating me on my journey. I'm eternally grateful."

"Didyma (modern name is Didim) is south of Miletus which used to be a ancient port and was at the other end of the Sacred Way between Miletus and the Temple of Apollo. Apart from being the fourth largest Sanctuary in the Greek world, it was also the location of an Oracle who was seen as being second to the Oracle of Delphi. The temple has been the victim of earthquakes in the centuries since it was built, and because it was an important temple in the area, it received many gifts from King Croesus (heard the expression 'As rich as Croesus'?), and therefore it was also raided by people like Xerxes of Persia, but then the Temple was rebuilt by Alexander the Great around 300BC.

It's an awesome experience to walk around the remains of the Temple and unlike in Greece, you can walk through the Temple to see as much as is possible. We were in awe of the craftsmen who had been responsible for the carving and building work, the intricacy of the carving and just the sheer magnitude of building such a huge structure with the limited materials that were available to them in those days.

...we were warned that there wasn't anything to see in Troy and we would be disappointed, but having reading the Illiad and the Odyssey (that would be MJ not Nick), how could we be so close to Troy and not go there. Yes, there isn't a lot to see as you walk around the old city, you can see that Troy has been rebuilt ten times in it's 4000 years of history and in the Troy VII level (1250BC), there is evidence of widespread destruction by fire, which has been linked to the destruction of Troy at the end of the Trojan War when it was set on fire by the Greeks when they came out of hiding in the Wooden Horse. And, of course, there is a huge wooden horse that you can climb up into for the obligatory photo opportunity."

"Isla Margharita is beautiful and we drove the full circumference of the Island. We loved El Yaque the windsurfing beach best as it had a safe, happy vibe and lots of choice of nice hotels.

After 5 days of exploring we try to leave on the 8am ferry, but find it and the next one are full! Luckily there was space on the 3rd one out... the luxury one to Puerto La Cruz and cost twice as much at $10! Our goal that day was to reach the highly recommended beach area half way to Caracas called Boca de Uchire. As we were delayed by the ferry, we arrived in the dark to Posada Sonho Meu. This is against one of our cardinal rules of travel, especially on a small, dark, deserted road that seems to deteriorate with every kilometre!

After going down many dead ends in the dark we finally find the right one to a warm welcome from the proprietor Nella. This enterprising lady really knows how to treat her clients with no request being too much trouble, therefore it is not surprising that the posada is full from word of mouth only. She even supplied us with a 2 way radio while we were on the beach so we could order 'Dos mas Pina Coladas Por Favor' from the posada 100m back!

...That day's destination was the highly recommended town of Colonia Tovar that was settled by the Germans in the late 1800's and still has a real German feel and Swiss German architecture built on the mountainside.

We have heard many bad stories about the city of Caracas, in that it is not safe at any time. So we plan our departure from Boca at 6am Sunday morning, thinking that any self respecting Bandido would be sound asleep at 9am while we slip quietly through. If there was any other reasonable route around Caracas we would have taken it. All the stories had our anxiety levels at maximum.

Colonia Tovar is only a 30 minute drive the other side of Caracas. All is going well as we are making our way on the highway through Caracas, when Belinda shouts 'OH shit, we have just missed the turn' This leaves us no choice, but to drive the last third of Caracas through local streets and traffic congestion! To say that 'Pat was pished off to the max' would be an understatement! As we drove through the worst areas imaginable, with garbage piled up on the streets and many dero's huddled up to burning drums of trash for warmth. It was the longest and most tense hour we have EVER had on a motorbike.

Colonia Tovar was like an Island paradise having German restaurants with fire places and hot chocolate. Our recommended Hotel Bergland was a real prize and the best accommodation of the whole trip. Our room was very modern, with a huge ensuite and great views from the balcony of the surrounding hills that looked like Switzerland a hundred years ago.

...We were quite concerned about safety travelling in Venezuela, but we found the locals very friendly and happy to help. Venezuela was 1/4 the cost of neighbouring countries due to the black market situation. Every one was willing to change money on the black market rate as they are all keen to have US dollars. We never drove in the afternoons or evenings, especially Fri, Sat and Sunday as there were many drunk drivers on the road. We played it very carefully, not going out of our Hotel after dark and didn't have any trouble. In fact we felt very safe and really loved Venezuela and its lovely warm, loving people. Venezuela has some issues which have stopped many international flights coming into the country and the border crossings were difficult and frustrating, but it's a beautiful country and we loved every minute of our time there. Would we go again? Absolutely and you should go too! Especially with your own transport!"

"The camp at Grindafjord is dead-still and, after packing the bikes, we take a moment to enjoy the gentle frosting on the grass, the quiet, and the beauty. Everything in us wishes we could afford to spend more time in Norway.

In many ways it's the quiet before a mild storm; we're meeting family friends from the UK in Bergen and there's a real excitement building for us both; reunions on the road offer a taste of all we've left behind. Home comes to us for a moment and in its beauty we're reminded of the parts we miss and, sometimes, why we left. Usually it's a healthy dose of both.

...The closer to Bryggen the more touristy the streets become and, in the distance, giant cruise-ships dot the view. Much to our surprise, one of the largest ships that graces Bergen's docks is Holland America Line's Eurodam, the same ship we saw docked in Halifax over a year ago. While the world may seem smaller to us now, the ship still appears as massive as it did back then!

We pass mountains of regularly-sized Legos left for children to use and plenty of hanging sheepskins in a nearby market ready for cruise-shippers to take home. There are plenty of North Americans in the mix today and the air is filled with a surprising drawl as we move past the stands.

Past the quay and alongside Bryggen's famously colourful wooden houses it's not hard to imagine why people flock here; it's a beautiful spot to spend a sunny day. A UNESCO Heritage site, many of Bryggen's original Hanseatic buildings burned in the fire of '55 but this handful remains, allowing us to imagine what the city would have looked like during its giddy heyday as the centre of export for dried fish.

...soon enough, we're on the road heading out of Bergen. Well, trying to head out of Bergen.

As we make our way past the city we notice a 'No Motorcycles' sign and jump to an exit lane which leads us back towards the water. Through a residential area we rejoin the highway only to be presented by another 'No Motorcycles' sign which seems to block our only exit along the E39. We take another clover leaf and another residential road while trying to continue north, hoping to pass the strange impasse.

Back onto the motorway we emerge before a third sign, this time electing to ignore it. Into a tunnel, Nita and I talk back and forth about what it could mean and hope we don't have a run-in with the law since traffic fines in Norway are exceptional.

If we spoke Norwegian we'd have discovered that the words 'gjelder ikke motorsykkel' beneath the red-slashed café-racer mean 'Does not apply to motorcycles.' So, the signs meaning appears to be 'No motorcycles'. It really means 'Does not apply to motorcycles.' Existentialist road signs are so not cool."

"...What's a birthday? Just another number on the calendar right? Not for Monika! Her birthdays are special and can last for days, depending on what she dreams up each year...This year was no exception. She was set on a camel trek in the Gobi Desert of Mongolia. Fortunately, we were already in Mongolia in the Altai region of the Gobi, and there were plenty of camels.

The camels were not too happy about having their morning interrupted and showed their discontent by belching and spitting, (really more like a 'power barf') of half chewed sour smelling grass, spraying our guide, Arman, and us with whatever else makes up camel cud. The cute little stick poking through their nose with a rope tied to it was the method of control. Hey! What would you do if you had a stick though your nose and your wife/husband etc. yanked on the rope and said, 'Get down on your knees or I'll yank on the rope again?'

Our camels arrived in full dress except for thicker pads and a saddle.

So they knelt and we climbed on, and off we went for a 3–hour ride across the lumpy grasslands, splashing through creeks & mud holes and weaving our way around herds of sheep, goats, cows, yaks and horses as the camels lurched behind our 'guide'. We think he was a great guy and a talented golden eagle hunter, but leading tourists on camel treks was not really his business and his English was zit. It took about five minutes for him to understand that Gary wanted to stop and get off the camel for a few minutes.

We quickly noticed that something was missing-like padding! There was no saddle as we had seen in museums and even on the cover of our Lonely Planet Mongolian guide book. One of us sat painfully on a cover the thickness of a cheap beach towel. The other had a slightly better felt pad suitable for a ten minute tourist ride around the paddock. The bony backbone of a camel is rock-hard (think dinosaur). The extremely uneven terrain made the stride of the beasts even more pronounced as they stumbled along."

"I had been told there was a bit of gravel road to get to Semuc Champey. I was keen to follow up the recommendation for Utopia, a hostel in the area. It was a fun and scenic ride into the mountains on well-maintained bitumen, winding along the side of a mountain. Until... suddenly there was a hairpin turn and a winding downhill, loose-rock and gravel road. It was ok and well maintained and wide enough for two vehicles, good for the cars and buses coming the other way.

The road wound its way down and down becoming steeper and narrower in places and finally not getting any wider after the small town of Lanquin.

Eventually it became a crumbly single lane winding down then up with each becoming steeper than the other. Some of the downhill sections were so steep they had a pair of parallel concrete strips for car wheels. One driver in a four wheel drive started driving up the strips as I was coming down. It was gravel and a drop off to my side so I had nowhere to go off the concrete. Finally he veered off the strip to let me pass. The vehicle after him blindly followed and simply smiled at my annoyed blaring of the horn in his face.

At this stage I was too glued to the bike to stop and take photos. After about twenty kilometres of deteriorating road and near misses with vehicles coming the other way I saw a sign for two kilometres to Semuc Champey and one to Utopia the other way. Excellent.

I took the Utopia turn and incredibly the road became worse. The surface was rough and sharp stone and the ascents and descents became even steeper with sharp and blind corners.

This was some of the better road

I was in first gear on the foot pegs going up and down. Every precipice before a descent was like looking over the edge of a cliff. Finally after a particularly loose and challenging ascent I came to a right hand turn to Utopia. I hope it really is Utopia after that ride. Without doubt the most challenging and scary ride I have ever done."

"On our way north to Alaska we went to Glacier National Park to ride "The Going to the Sun" road, but alas we were too early and the pass was still closed due to significant snow. We could only ride the first 14 miles, snow ploughs were still trying to clear the road. Ever since people we bumped into kept mentioning did you ride the sun road? Well, on our way back down we made sure we picked it up. It makes Pam and David's greatest motorcycle rides, number__, lost count of where we are up to!

Not a lot of commentary here... the photos say it all!

Glacier National Park is back in the US. We crossed the Canadian/US border heading south. The idea is to make the long trek from west to east on the US side. Accommodation and petrol (gas as it is called in the States) is much cheaper. It is a long and boring crossing over the prairies by all accounts. We hope to do it in 4 days or so then pop back up to Canada and Montreal."

"It took us 8 hours on Saturday to drive from Eze Bord de Mer to Lyon. The last 50 minutes were inside the city limits of Lyon, stuck in rush hour traffic! Fortunately, our hotel is at the edge of the historic old town, so once checked in we were able to walk a short distance to the 'action' First up was the Elephant & Castle English-style pub for a pint (for me) and a wine (for Bev). With our thirsts quenched, we had dinner and then walked around the old town for a while to get acquainted.

On Sunday, we walked up the hill to visit the Basilica, a Catholic cathedral that overlooks Lyon.

Basilica, viewed from the old town below.
A stone spiral staircase accesses multiple floors inside a traboule.

After walking back down the hill, we walked around the old town trying to find some of the many traboules that still exist. Traboules are passageways within the old buildings that date back to the 4th century. They were used by silk merchants to move their merchandise quickly whilst keeping out of the weather. In the second world war, the trails were used by the Resistance fighters to help prevent the Germans from taking total control of the city."

"Between Brazil and Uruguay - This guy was in the middle of the road so I stopped to put him over the bank, he wasn't happy about it. I did manage to get a quick photo before chasing after him again. Turtles can be so ungrateful.

I was planning on riding further south in Chile however I made a change in plans and decided to cross back into Argentina and ride Ruta 40. I've been looking forward to that part of the journey and I just couldn't wait any longer.

Bariloche to Esquel, Ruta 40.

Just south of Bariloche is the village of El Bolson, people call it the hippie place.

Good wifi has eluded me for some time now, however here in Rio Mayo things are working great. I decided to stay here for the day and catch up on the blog and take a rest day. I'm a bit dehydrated, the cold wind is taking it out of me and I haven't been drinking enough.

My SPOT tracker is having a difficult time finding satellites this far south, Rio Mayo might be the last mark."

"...Alistair's bike was playing up more and more, going slower and slower. That was a big concern as we cannot leave a bike in Russia. If we leave a bike behind we would get in big trouble with customs. The bikes only have a temporary import permit and must leave within 3 months!

With the difficulty of finding hotels or places to stay in this part of Russia, we decided to stop at Staraya Russa, as it is the main town around and had 2 or 3 hotels. We came across one that looked very nice and stopped to make enquiries. It had space for one night and was reasonably priced, so we took a room.

As the town was pleasant we decided to stay another day, although we had to change hotel, and for the same price than our nice first hotel, use the old soviet block style hotel. Never mind.

We spent Saturday exploring the huge park and the town.

Then the Sunday morning, we loaded the bikes and rode out of town. We stopped at a fuel pump on the edge of town to get fuel, then rode off... Suddenly, I heard three huge Bangs! My simultaneous thoughts were:

- WTF!
- OMG, someone is shooting at us? No way!
- OMG, my bike exploded!

I stopped, looked around, no one with a gun (!) and stared at the front of my bike and at my engine...
Alistair had stopped too... He asked me what the problem was. I told him 'what was THAT?'
He told me his bike had died. Again!
Apparently I did look shaken... But those three explosions were terrifying!

We decided to go back to the hotel and look for a motorcycle mechanic or find a solution. So, as so many times before, Alistair pushed his bike out of sight, away from the main road, and we rode my bike two-up.

I explained our predicament at the reception desk of the hotel and the security guard drew a map to show me where I may find a workshop. While Alistair went to get his bike and push it back to the hotel (a good three or four miles!), I walked to the location of the workshops. It was a row of few garages, on a back road, with no sign of life..."

"There are places that we stumble upon as we're traveling that just pop up on our radar as we're planning our next day's ride. Pompeii was one of them. I had no idea it was this close to Napoli. We had planned to stop in the area to try some authentic pizza Napoletana and ended up visiting the ruins that had captivated my imagination when I was a kid.

Pompeii entrance with Mount Vesuvius in the background

...One of my favorite TV programs growing up was a sci-fi-documentary series called In Search Of... I remember being transfixed for a whole half-hour every week as Mr. Spock himself spun tales of pseudo-science explaining how the Mayans worshiped Ancient Astronauts and how Mount Vesuvius erupted blanketing Pompeii in a layer of thick hot ash, instantly preserving everything it covered. I remember vividly the plaster casts of the bodies caught in their last moment of anguish and how that both haunted and fascinated me at the same time.

Over 1,000 bodies were found preserved in the ashes of Pompeii

The biggest mystery was why Pompeii was the only city that had human bodies preserved in such detail that even the folds of their clothes can be seen in the plaster casts made from the hollows of the ashes. Other cities near Vesuvius showed no such preservation, only bones and teeth remained of their citizens as the pyroclastic surges of hot toxic gases and ash incinerated their bodies."

"We decide we have spent as much time in Banos as is needed and we will head out to a campground/hostel run by friends of friends in the form of Marc and Sue, ex professional overlanders themselves. We leave Banos in driving rain (using the phone as a GPS, it seems to work well) and arrive at Rio Verde 30 km up the road in even worse conditions, the rain is torrential. Marc rescues us and gets us settled into a room. The rain finally abates and we wander the 2kms back into Rio Verde where we encounter some local kids walking home from school.

Careful Kids! The drop off from the wall goes down into the Canyon

That afternoon we return to the hostel and introduce ourselves to our fabulous hostess Sue. We share a pleasant afternoon with this couple before Marc exclaims that Volcan Tungurahua is erupting and indeed it is, there are a few good belches of ash before it again settles down. We still didn't actually see the Volcano as it was completely shrouded in mist and cloud. The evening starts off bright and clear with a starry night but by eight o'clock it is bucketing down, well I suppose we are in the Cloud forest and it is the wet season.

Tungurahua Volcano

It is also during this time that we meet Gail Baillargeon, a fellow motorcycle traveller and HU Member. One evening at the hostel we share a late night, many bottles of beer, a famous Casa Helbling meze platter and a great many laughs. Gail has been on the road for a year, after retiring from the US Navy. He plans to travel until he gets tired of it. He was great company and we thank him for his 'going North' information.

We return to the hostal late in the day and get chatting to Klaus (the hostel owner) about our dilemma. What should we do for the next week while we wait for the bike? After a quick chat and on his recommendation we make a snap decision to book a tour to Cuyabeno Reserve. Within 10 minutes we are booked into the Siona Lodge for a 5 day jungle tour. While we are just finishing off our booking and organising a return flight with Klaus another couple Michel and Iona (pronounced Joanna) from Montreal also get a rush of blood and decide they will book the same tour. They are a lovely couple and we are looking forward to having some travelling companions.

It was then a 2 hour bus ride to Puerto Bolivar where we had a quick lunch before getting into our canoe and heading downstream for two hours. It was a fantastic ride with Jacob and Benisio (our canoe driver although he was almost another guide) pointing out all manner of birds, monkeys and even a baby anaconda.

Locals call this the Stinky Bird

These two guys were amazing, their knowledge and passion for Cuyabeno was infectious, they could spot animals that were completely invisible to we mere mortals."

Amazon River Boa

"...My eye followed the line forward through the sandy dust until I came across Mike's bike, just a few meters ahead of me. The once deep but tidy straight tracks became wobblier and wobblier as the depth of the dust increases. Sucking in a deep breath, I felt pounding in my chest. I know in advance what I am about to hit. I hoped I would make it through and out the other side still astride my bike. Dust billowed up and around me, blinding me and locking me into my own brownish world. I could not see if anyone was approaching from the front, let alone what was happening behind me. When I entered this cloud, I could see a 4×4 not far behind me. Just knowing that in this sunless world made me apprehensive. I hoped this guy was giving me enough space in case I fell off. I didn't even want to think of the outcome if it all goes wrong.

I pulled back on my throttle, increasing my speed just as I hit the worst of Mike's wobbly tracks. I felt my bike's rear end start to slide back and forwards. I held my front wheel steady but loose under my hands letting it float. At first it was just a small sideways movement, but left unmanaged it grew until it's too hard to regain control. By now my bike was bucking to and fro, like one of those coin operated bulls you see in the movies. I took another deep breath, feeling the instant benefits, I relaxed and opened up my throttle more, in an effort to rein in my bike. Finally, I felt a change in surface under my tires as it becomes slightly harder and I get my composure back. I let out a big sigh. 'That was close' I say to myself.

...It's funny how sometimes a mere thirty kilometers can feel like a hundred. This was one of those times. I can see the pattern emerging. When I'm cold, tired and hungry I just want the day to be over and done with. That's when the kilometers draw out further and further apart and I feel every centimeter.

We finally arrived into the town of Swakopmund. I pulled up to the first four way stop (where everyone is forced to stop and first in first goes – it's a strange and complicated intersection that I've only seen in South Africa and here in Namibia). As I took off from the intersection I felt my gear shifter rotate with my boot but I couldn't change gear. That's odd, I look behind me and changed lanes slipping the clutch to keep control and not stall the bike."