Your thread is now the second most viewed ride tale on the hubb!
I cant wait for the next chapter

nice blog, good photos... noticed a lot of hot girls in there for good measure.. i like.
Seán
Honda Vs The World | Alaska to Argentina

Lucky bugger!
Lucky in the sense it could have been a lot, lot worse - any news of if the other driver's insurance is going to cover your damage costs?

3 weeks out of action? Does this mean we'll be getting less photos of all these lovely ladies you meet on your travels??

Hope you heal quick - keep us updated!!

Damn! Bad luck followed instantly by good. Close call and I'm glad you're both fine.

No advice for you I'm afraid - never had a crash while abroad. Good luck though, and I suspect things will be fine if the Police are backing your version of events.

Well, to catch up everyone! We’re in Barranquilla! And I have a broken leg! And here is how it all happened!

We arrived in the Cartagena, Colombia port on Saturday, July 30th. And that night was spent finding a hostel, and going to bed. It was well deserved. There were about 20 passengers that got off the boat, and we all stayed in one of 4 different hostels.



It would prove to be a good group.


The next day, Sunday the 31st, was spent lazing about the city. I had spoken with Tom and we were dead set on getting parts for our motorcycles, but being as it was a Sunday, we put very little effort into it. Chains, sprockets, and tires can wait till Monday. And they did.


Sunday night was a good night and we all had a good time. Nothing special in comparison to the boat ride, but we can’t keep that kind of behavior going all the time!


Monday would prove to be our biggest day.


Our motorcycles had been onboard the Stahlratte ever since we pulled into port. The immigration/customs office doesn’t operate past mid day on Saturday, or at all on Sunday from what we were told, and thus we had to wait until Monday to take them off the boat to import them.


We arrived at the dock at 8:30 and within minutes the Stahlratte was winching bikes off the boat, into their small hard bottomed dinghy, and cruising them across the bay, headed to the docks edge.



It didn’t take long for the dinghy to arrive.



And when it did, we sucked that little boat up against the dock…



And as many as 6 of us would grab as much bike as we could, and then, physically haul the bikes onto dry land. It was quite the effort and display of man power.

Here you can see Charlie’s bike being offended by the crowd favorite, Floyd, our French crew member!



Andy’s bike would not be forgotten.



And George preferred to do the honors himself!



Well, after the bikes were on shore, there was little more to do then import them over at the customs shack. Ha… Right…


Cartagena is a large port for transportation and we weren’t the only ones with this in mind. So Manfred, the German shipping agent and friend of Ludwig was there to help up out.


Soon, we learned that the systems were down, the inspection agent needed to be called, we would have to wait until after our bikes were inspected to leave, but of course we’d have to come back around 4-5pm when the “system” had time to get us in the “system”.


Well, that’s fine. So… We waited, and waited, and waited a little more. Like normal. I’m used to it. Most of the time. This time we waited a LOT. BUT. Hell, we’re on a new continent, I can handle waiting a bit longer if this is what it takes to get to South America. I’m game.


And thus our motorcycles were inspected, and found to have mismatched papers/vin numbers, which would need to be changed. Awesome. Oh well, see you back at 4:30 then Manfred? Ok.

And so Tom and I took off in search of parts. Front and rear tire, front and rear sprocket, and chain for Tom. Rear tire and chain for Alex. We can do this. Easy.


Did I mention that the Colombian police force uses the DR650 and one of its clones as one of their preferred methods of transportation?



Check out the Suzuki Freeway, or at least that is what we think they keep calling it. It is the sport touring version of the venerable Dr650 and the cop bike of choice. The motor is the same. Exactly the same according to the mechanic. The difference? The oil cooler is a bit larger. The gas tank is standard at nearly 5 gallons. The instrument cluster is electronic, the fairings of course are different, and MOST notably, it has two carburetors for the single piston! I want one!

Well, we found our parts for the motorcycle. Tom bought a Pirelli MT70 front and MT90 rear tire, as well as an OEM front and rear sprocket/chain set for his bike. He’s paying a hefty price, but it comes with the knowledge that the stuff is legit. No one wants a CRAPPY chain on their bike.


Like what I have! I bought a DID chain for $35, along with a front and rear Pirelli MT90 tires. Kristi doesn’t know it yet, but she’s bringing down a stock DR650 chain that has only 4k miles on it. That will replace my ghetto chain, along with new sprockets sometime in the future.


Tom and I then made plans to have our bikes serviced at the dealership, as well as have all of our parts installed professionally. The biggest hassle would be Tom’s chain as the OEM chain has no master link. Letting the mechanic pull the swing arm to install the chain sounded like an easier option for Tom. Plus, they’re not going to pinch our tubes when they install our tires. The service was cheap and we willingly paid it. I would end up paying $45 for a preventive maintenance program with my rear tire and chain installed. Tom ended up paying $65 for the same maintenance but with both tires, both sprockets, and OEM chain installed. We were pleased.

By the time we arrived at the Suzuki dealership and found the parts, and put them aside, it was time to go back to the customs office to see about collecting our motorcycles. Wait a bit here, wait a bit there, wait a bit more over here, and presto. We now have bikes, with no insurance (which is required by law) and we can’t buy it until the next morning because the insurance offices are all closed. Oh well.

So we took the bikes back to our hostels, parked them up good, and went for a night on the town. Monday night did well, but had no photos to show for it!

The next morning, Tom and I took off in search of insurance. An hour and $45 later, we had 4 months of insurance (the smallest amount sold) in our pockets and motorcycles to deliver to the Suzuki mechanic.
The day before, the mechanic had said that if we delivered the bikes first thing in the morning, he would have them done by 3pm that same day. When we arrived, he changed that estimate to 11am the next morning. Whatever, sounds fine. We saw it coming anyway.

We then left the Suzuki Dealership , and our bikes looked like this. We would pick them up after the installation of our parts and pieces, as well as a general maintenance. Awesome.



Well here our story unfolds a bit. We’ve been traveling with Charlie, Andy, Jill and Ty, as well as Anna for the past 8 days or so, and now, we’re planning on parting ways. Well, we didn’t plan it initially, but that’s what happened.


The other guys wanted to get out of Cartagena and into the cooler temps of the mountains nearby. That sounded great to Tom and I, and we were planning it, UNTIL we found a Suzuki dealership with a qualified mechanic, all the parts we needed, and the time to put them on for us. We would just have to wait a day longer. And so we did. Charlie, Andy, Ty and Jill took off from Cartagena on Tuesday afternoon, the same day we dropped our motorcycles off for service.


The next day we collected out bikes.
And we were excited to have them back. And we were happy to ride them away from the dealership. Though we were not happy to find that they had siphoned half our gas tanks (we delivered them with 3 miles on the tank). We looked at the man, and he looked at us back. He was a good mechanic, sure, but he was a *****. We left without parting words.

That was the beginning. Back to the hostel, load our crap, check things twice, and get out of town.
Then, get lost getting out of town. Talk to Tom, look at the map, make decisions, keep going.
We’re in a new land, and a new continent. The scale of things here in South America is simply much larger. Distances on maps are no longer expressed in 5-10 minutes, but 45min-1hr. They don’t read 5km, they read 50km. We’ll have to pay attention to that.

And so we found ourselves heading out of town, northward it would seem, headed to an intersection 80 miles away that would lead us east and into the mountains. Or so we thought. Our day had a little more in store for us then planned….

As you know, I would get clobbered, creamed, and slightly broken by a passing truck, and shortly thereafter would pose for this photo.



I was walking/hopping at that point. That would be the best I moved for a few days.

I hopped in and went for a ride.


Damn. This wasn’t planned.

Shortly, I was sitting in a hospital, all my crap everywhere.



With a leg/foot/ankle that I had earlier told Tom, “I think is broken”.



Soon, a lady was taking blood samples.



And Tom arrived, having taken care of my motorcycle for me. It still ran too. The police chief had been tossing mini wheelies on it all the way to the police station with Tom in tow.



Then the police gave me a breathalyzer test to make sure I hadn’t been drinking. I rang up a clear .000, of course. Though it amused me that it was already 3 hours past the accident! Haha.



Soon, the ladies, all mid 20’s (nurses?) were gathered around.



The comments then began, and rang loud and clear. Holy crap he’s tall. He’s like 2 meters. Where is he from? Does he understand Spanish? What happened? Wow. Hmm.. Bzzz, buzz, hmmmm,haaa. Well that is what was audible part at least. The giggles, laughter and girly antics soon followed from behind a curtain.

I must have looked really white to them, or just so different that they couldn’t possibly fathom that I understand Spanish. For I am sure they wouldn’t have said what follows if they thought I would understand, and thus it was very funny to hear them say from behind the curtain, quite loudly, the following:


Girl number one, “He doesn’t even fit in the bed. Did you see the size of him?”
Girls one through six, “Hehehe, giggle giggle giggle, hehehehehehe!”
Random girl, “Can you imagine the size of him? He probably doesn’t fit anywhere else!”
Girls one through six, and at least 5 other patients, “Giggle giggle, laugh, gag, choke, gasp, etc.”
Alex from behind the curtain, “La cosa que es mejor es que puedo hablar espanol.”

(Or, “The thing that is better, is that I can speak Spanish”.)

Well, that was a funny site to behold, as I witnessed dust trails erupt from the ground as 6 pairs of feet took off into the distance like the Roadrunner from cartoons. Damn, I must have embarrassed them!

Well, while I was there in the hospital, receiving x-rays, and talking with other people, and telling them what happened, I met 4 other motorcycle crash victims. One hit a taxi, his leg looked like it could turn out like mine. Another hit a car, and fractured his arm. A third fractured his arm as well. And the 4th, well, he took a lane splitting too close and tagged a mirror, and he wasn’t wearing gloves.



Finally, they took me to a room to spend the night. At this point though, I hadn’t eaten or drank any water since 9am. I was damn hungry and thirsty, and it was about 9pm already. The hospital doesn’t have a cafeteria, so people set up shop nearby and sell food. When the doctor asked me if he could do anything for me before he let me sleep, I told him I needed 2 meals, a coke, and 1 liter of water. He thought hard, and told me not to worry. An orderly arrived, inside of 20 minutes with my food, I gave her money, and she came back with a fruity bubbly drink that was AWESOME, and 2 bottles of water. SUCCESS. Steak, fries, soda, and water.



I was a happy son of a gun right about then.



I even had a T.V. to watch while stuffing face!



And my leg was in a cast for protection for the night.



And then… I went to bed, and at 4am was woken up to take a shower. And then went to bed again. And then at 6am was woken up. This time, for SURGERY!
Ahah!
This would be the first time in my life going under the knife like this. Only the third time I’d ever had stitches. The first break of any bone, and surely the most dramatic experience in the hospital yet.
Except that I was doing wheelies in the wheel chair, and spinning 360’s in the hallway!

Soon after taking off all my clothes and putting on a one size fits all gown that barely made it to my knees, I was escorted to the operating room. I was consulted by a technician or nurse or doctor (not sure of his title) and was recounted my history of events and told what I could expect to happen.


I would receive a shot in my back to numb me from the waist down. I would then have an incision, a plate, some screws, some stitches, and then I would be finished. Ok? Yea. Um. Ok.


And so it began, and I watched it all from the reflection of the mounting bracket of the swiveling ceiling light that lit up the whole operation. I didn’t “feel” the pain of the first incision, but I saw the knife move. I didn’t “feel” the scraping of the tool used to definitively separate my skin/muscle tissue from the bone, but I felt the vibration. I didn’t “feel” the cauterization of the heating element that sealed off my bleeding vessels, but I smelled it. And I couldn’t “feel” the holes being drilled through the plaque and into my fibula, but I could hear the drill. The screws gave me no pain, and I felt none of the 8, but each insistent torque of the hand held screwdriver gave away their purpose. And finally, I felt not a single stictch, but all 11 of them pulled snuggly as they were tied.

The doctor stood up, and pronounced affectionately that I was done! 8 screws and 11 stitches, my son, you’ll be good in no time!



Salud!

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

This sounds like an absolutely amazing journey. I am very jealous, I can't wait to get out on the road again myself.

And the game today? Wait more. Oh... OK.
Well. Mr. Lawyer Man came back a couple of days ago (Friday) and told me that we had a couple of problems. Oh we do? Oh... Ok.

Well lets hear it.

Mr. Lawyer Man: "Your motorcycle is not registered here in Colombia."
Me: "Yes, I know that. Of course it is not. Its registered in Alaska"
Mr. Lawyer Man: "Well they don't want you to take a vehicle that has been in an accident, outside the country."
Me: "Why not? I need to be in Bogota on the 22nd. I need to leave this place."
Mr. Lawyer Man: "They don't want you to come back later with grievances."
Me: "Ok. Fine. I won't come back. How do we tell them that?"
Mr. Lawyer Man: "We'll now we have two options"
Me: "Ok. Well. I'm listening."

First: We can find a Judicial Policia (Judicial Police Officer), and have him come over, of course you will have to pay him, and have him declare that you have the right to leave. I don't know when he will be available, and I don't know how much he costs.

Second: You and the driver of the truck can sign a document that neither of you will try to recover damages from one another, and sign off any right to follow up on the accident with any further issues. You each take responsibility for your own actions.

Me: "Well... Ok. What do you think about option two? Do you think there will be a problem getting the other drivers signature? Let's try option two."

Mr. Lawyer Man: "I think that will work fine."

Well. That was Friday. Saturday and Sunday the parking lot where my motorcycle is closed. Monday is a national holiday. So, I have to wait until Tuesday at the earliest. It would seem that I could possibly get the bike on Tuesday. If I get it on Wednesday, I'll consider myself lucky.

And that was Friday.

Tom returned on Saturday afternoon, and we've been eating, sleeping, and playing pool down the street with another guy that is at the hotel. (Nicolas, also 24yrs/old.)

That was Saturday, and today, Sunday. And Now it's Monday.

Tuesday if we're lucky. I'll get my motorcycle! Wooooo.... How. Exciting...

Onward?

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

I got a few emails, and messages, and responses on the ride report. They want to know why I'm having problems getting my bike back.

So, let me enlighten you to a bit of the behind the scenes action.

People seem to be worried that I might be getting pulled for a loop by the local Colombians. My motorcycle

I got an email from a friend of mine. He thought it would be a good idea to get in touch with the Horizons Unlimited Community inside Colombia. I told him that that sounded like a great Idea.

(I post this exact same ride report on Horizons Unlimited (HU) as well. Currently the second most viewed RR "ever" over there! Aaaaaawesome.)

So, in less then an hour, my friend sent out a request for some help. The way it works over there, is that you can add your location to your profile, and incorporate yourself into an HU Community, such as Snohomish County (my community at home)

Less then an hour after that, I received a response from a HU member in Cartegena. He asked what my situation was. I responded. He told me what he could do. I accepted.

I gave the name, mobile number, and office number of my lawyer to the man. He told me he was going to cut to the chase, and figure out my dilemma.

He also made it clear that he suspected some fishy stuff was going on, demonstrated a knowledge of the situation, and told me he'd help. I thanked him appropriately.

Then I got another email from my first friend. Some other top dogs, big wigs, and important people, are interested to see that I come out in one piece and don't get tossed in the ringer.

Things will be ok. So I'll share a poem I wrote a while ok.




ONWARD!!!

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

On Thursday August 18th, at 12pm, we got the hell out of Barranquilla, and hit the road for Bogota. Bogota on the map doesn’t seem too far away. But, if you look close, and read it carefully, it’s easy to see that we had 640’ish miles to go before we would reach the capital city of Colombia. Well, we have 4 days to do it, and from what we’ve heard, we’ll need nearly all of it.

Here is a parting shot from where Tom got beat up and survived his pistol whipping.



Thursday went well, and around 6pm we had ridden 175 miles. The temperature hovered around 94 degrees, and maxed out at 98 (37c). We spent much of our time on the road, hovering around 40mph, dealing with semi trucks passing busses, and impatient cars passing mini motos. (The 125cc variety).

On the way we cruised through farm land and forests, but it never cooled down. A shot from the road.



It was easy to see that Tom was happy to have left behind his bad thoughts (being mugged didn’t help) and I was glad to give him the lead.



Charlie, Andy, Ty and Jill had all agreed, Bogota might look close on the map, and it may only be 650miles, but it’ll be the longest road you’ve ridden yet. We we’re beginning to see why.

Just as it started to rain, we found ourselves getting a little bit hungry, so we stopped, and across the street was the hotel/hospedaje, that would be our home for the night. I parked my spectacle of a motorcycle and we had some food.



The room we slept in had two queen sized beds, a bathroom and a TV. The price? 30mil Pesos. (30,000 pesos) or, $16.85 for the both of us. Considering that we were sharing 55mil in our Hotel in Barranquilla, we we’re happier then could be.

That night, the clouds opened up, and the rain came down like we haven’t seen in months. There was so much lightening that we could walk across the street later that evening to the restaurant without our flashlights. We had the same meal, and went back to watch some episodes of Human Planet on my computer, courtesy of the earned wifi in Barranquilla.

The next day Friday the 18th, we left the hotel at a bright and early 10am. We were tired as hell, and neither of us slept particularly well. But we hit the road as the temp hit 85, and were blazing out trail down the highway when suddenly only 20miles in; my motor began to cut out, and without much ado, simply shut down. WHAT THE HELL.

Of course, I am behind Tom, and while wearing our earplugs, even honking my horn a dozen times will do nothing. I honked anyway, and he kept going as I pulled to the side of the road. SHIT.

As I pulled over, I couldn’t decide what my problem was. Why had my bike shut down? Was I experiencing a busted stator pickup like Tom had in Panama? Did I have a short somewhere? Was I out of fuel? Did I have spark? Was my air filter blocked? What the HELL happened.

As I sat there, trying to start my motorcycle again, I kept wondering what I was dealing with.
Well, in less than 5 minutes, Tom had turned around and came back to find me, on the side of the road with a dead bike, with Bogota 445 long and twisty mountainous miles ahead of us. And so we started.
I took off my top case off my crutches, tank bag, panniers, side covers, seat and gas tank.

Normally, it wouldn’t be necessary to remove the panniers to remove the side covers. However, after my latest meeting with a truck, my pannier frames are so compressed that removing the side covers necessitates removing the panniers, and also loosening a pannier frame bolt. What a pain in the ass.

Check out my right side pannier frame. It’s trashed.



And if that doesn’t work, another view,



I kindly asked Tom to take some pictures, and he obliged.



Well. Lets first check fuel. Yes. I have fuel. I had filled up that morning, and only had 20 miles on the tank. Ok, fuel is good.

Let’s check the spark and spark plugs. (Requires removal of tank, which requires removal of seat, which requires removal of side covers, which now requires removal of panniers and pannier frames)

OK. Bust out the tool kit, and get to work. Check the spark plugs. Ugh. They look like hell. How many miles are on these things? 18.5k? Damn. Check for spark. I have spark, but it looks weak. Well, now is as good a time as any to change them, glad I bought those spares 6k miles ago in Cuernavaca, Mexico when I bought that Pirelli MT60. Only, where did I put them?

Not long after looking, I found them, installed them, and with the little gas left in the carb, instantly fired up the bike. Tom let out a whoop, and I visibly smiled. Damn. I’m glad it was that easy!

Ha. Haha. HAHA. HAHAHAHAHAHAH!

If ONLY.

Not 10 minutes later when Tom and I had my bike fully assembled, I turned the key, and hit the starter. Chug, chug, chug, chug. Nothing. WHAT?! I have fuel, I have air, and I JUST had spark. Damn. Round two, here we come.

This time Tom whipped out his tools, and we double teamed the bike. Minutes later I was checking the spark again. No spark! Why!? What happened? We spent a few minutes staring at it, and we couldn’t figure it out. Damn…. We’ve been here for nearly 1hr45min. This sucks.

It continued sucking for about 2 more minutes when a fellow motorcyclist pulled up and began asking questions. We told him what had happened, and he told us that where we were was not a particularly good place to be. The drug traffickers grow their stuff up there in those hills he said, as he pointed to the mountains. I’ll call the police and let them know that you’re here, ok? Yea. Ok. Thanks…

Now, it’s sucking just a little more than it did 2 minutes prior.

Well, two minutes later a man in a flat bed cargo truck stopped on our side of the road, and with no hesitation, backed his truck to within 25 feet of our motorcycles. Tom and I looked at each other, a little wary. Soon, the man walked over, and who was he? No other then the same man we had met the night before at our hotel. He had been checking out our motorcycles, and we chatted for 5 minutes or so before going to eat. And here he was again. I always knew it didn’t hurt to make friends!

This guys’ name is Wilson, and I have no photos of him. He is a driver for a local industrial mechanic company, and he does whatever they need him to. At this time, he was returning from Barranquilla to Baccuramanga, after having delivered a 2 ton transmission for a machine. His truck was empty, he had space in his cab, his fuel was paid for by his company, his schedule was flexible, and he was offering to take my bike to Aquas Chicas where there are tons of motorcycle shops, where they could certainly fix my problem.

Wow. Thanks Wilson! That sounds great!

And so the three of us loaded my bike into his truck, tied it up, and took off. Tom had the pleasure of following the truck at a grand max speed of what MIGHT have been 50mph the entire time. Rest assured, he achieved fantastic gas mileage.

On the way I bought Wilson a coke from street vendor, and after a gas stop we arrived at our destination. Wilson stopped, asked for directions, and 5 minutes later we were pulled up in front of a Suzuki Dealership.

Hot Damn!

Unloaded, and problem explained, Tom set off in search of food. I had previously offered to buy Wilson lunch, and after much protesting, he followed Tom for his meal. I sat with a bunch of very interested Colombians as we diagnosed my bike. At least there was a police DR650 in the shop at the same time. So they had SEEN my bike before, which is always excellent news.

In less than 5 minutes, I was looking the fool as my motorcycle was fired up, and my spirits were lifted. I had experienced a two stage problem.

First, my spark plugs had finally crapped out, and I pulled over to the side of the road. After dismantling my motorcycle, I had replaced the plugs and the bike started. Excellent.

Then. I put the gas tank back on. And in doing so, disconnected a plug on the wiring harness connected to my coil. When everything was connected, I had no spark (My ignition coil was disconnected).

That’s when Wilson showed up and offered his help. And that was the beginning of my lameness. The mechanics showed me the disconnected plug. It has a weak clip, that is easily popped loose when pulled on. It had been popped loose when I hit it with my gas tank. DAMN. Some Gorilla Tape later, and I had a fully connected Ignition coil plug, a running bike, and $15 less dollars (shop charge).

I hurriedly ate some food that Tom had pre-ordered for me, and we hit the road again after profusely thanking Wilson, shaking his hand, and revving our engines for the shop crew.

That night we made our way until the sun started to set behind the mountains, and we had claimed 140 miles. Damn…. We’re not getting very far now are we. That night was spent at a truck stop hotel with secure parking, an attached restaurant, and cheap rates. Another day on the road.

Saturday August 20, 2011. 140 more miles. Outrageous truck drivers, fearless bus drivers, and 125cc motorcycles traveling 2 up, hitting corners in the rain faster than I’ve ever dared.
Along the way, we stopped for a few photos at appropriate spots. Here is Tom.



And here is me. Hi Mom and Dad!



About 30 miles, and an hour later, steadily climbing up the mountains from the valley floor, we pulled over at another view point.



To snag these kinds of photos



Whats up Tom?



Not a lot Alex.



How about you? My? All is good man.



Well, that was cool. And so we hit the road again. About another hour later, and 30 more miles down the road we found ourselves in San Gil. Ty and Jill had enjoyed their time here, and though we didn’t have time to stop, we found ourselves at an AWESOME outdoor beef grill restaurant, and had some of the best meat that we have had in our entire adventure thus far. It was, AWESOME.

As the motorcycle sped by out on the road, we sat and watched our meat roast on the spits over the open fire. One older guy kept watch on all of the meat as a couple younger ones did all the running to and fro with the cooked meat.



After about 15 minutes, our food was served; a platter of meat with a few small potatoes. More than enough to fill us up, we thoroughly enjoyed the meal.



Wilson, the truck driver had told us that as we continue to get closer to the center of Colombia, and leave the coast behind, the food gets better and better. He claimed that the Costenas (Coas-tain-yas), as residents of the coastal region are known, don’t have as good of food as the Chocanas (Cho-Kan-yas), as residents of the inland region are known. He then went on to mention that the more beautiful women are found inward from the coast and specifically Medellin. Those one he called, Paisenas (Pie-sain-nas). With that, he took his thumb and first two fingers, pressed them to his lips and life a French chef claiming his meal complete, kissed his fingers, tossed them into the air, and made this sound, “Wheeeeeesh”. Signifying, woooooaaaaaah. Or yeeeessssss. Or, delicious. However you would like to describe your women.

I prefer Kristi.

Well. Wilson was right, and our meal was freaking awesome, and between the two of us, less than $10.
So we took off, and hit the road again. Our goal for the day was to get more than half way to Bogota, and in time, we would realize our goal. We found ourselves buying gas just as it started to piss rain. When it rains out here in the middle of the mountains, at altitude, in the tropics; it simply pours. Tom tossed on his newly acquired waterproof over pants and jacket (purchased in Panama), and I put on my inner liner. When you think of what Tom must look like, imagine neon yellow rain gear. That’s him. He loves it. I think I need some soon. It’s one thing to be waterproof from the inside out.

It’s another thing to be completely waterproof from the outside in. When I arrive sopping wet on the outside, Tom will arrive, shirk his outer liner, and be dry on the inside, all while continuing to wear his protective gear. We’ve seen hundreds and hundreds of locals on the side of the road throwing on their rain gear ever since Mexico. Tom took the clue. I’m next in line.

Not more than 10 minutes later, the heavens opened, and we were engulfed in walls of water. With not much of an option for a hotel, we just kept going. The storm soon subsided into a manageable deluge, and we continued on. Minutes later the rain stopped falling in sheets, started falling in drops, slowed down even more, and off on the side of the highway we spied a restaurant/hotel/gas station combo, pulled over, and called it a day at 3pm. 7hrs on the road is good enough.

Our room, shared with two beds is 20mil ($11.36), our meals were the same combined. We don’t even need air conditioning because it’ll be less than 60 degrees tonight. We’re finally back in our element, and we’re happier than shit. A little rain? 70 degrees and below? Cheap lodging, food, and gas stations everywhere?

We’ll take it.

Now we’re watching the semi finals of the Copa Mundial. The Fifa U-20( under 20 yr/old) World Soccer Cup. Mexico just whooped Frances ass 3-1.



More to come soon!

Kristi arrives tomorrow! Hot shit!

Onward!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

great report alex... loving it.

that valley in the photo i believe is the chicamocha canyon.. between bucaramanga and san gil, right? great place.. had the pleasure of rafting that river a few years back.. incredible.

all the best for your travels and keep the reports coming

cracking trip / write up that - I have no doubt this thread has sent many to the garage to fettle the beast before setting of on their own adventures.

cheers Alex/Tom - great stuff and look forward to your future exploits....

Zixxer

Rock Springs, Wyoming
Life is temporarily back on the road, but this time, in an 18 wheeler. The call came, and inside of 3 hours, I was bobtailing a Semi Tractor from Seattle to Rock Springs, Wyoming, where I am now back to work with my last employer, making money and putting it in the bank, while preparing to fly out of here to Alabama where I'll collect my new to me 2009 DR650 which I'll then Ride home to Lake Stevens, Washington. AWESOME.

This is what I drove from Seattle to Rock Springs, Wyoming. A 2006 International Day Cab Semi.




Well the Semi Tractor that you see above, we haul a 32 foot trailer with a Moffett Forklift piggybacked on the back of it. Not unlike what Tom and i were doing in Alaska. (Though in Alaska we drove a flat bed truck with no trailer).



Let me describe my job a bit more to you guys. I work for a business called Mr. M LLC. Mr. M specializes in many things, one of which includes supplying trained contractors to a company called 3PD, which in turn deliver products for Home Depots across the nation. Currently, roughly 1200 Home Depot Stores contract their delivery services to 3PD. Among those Home Depot Contracts, Mr.M runs 15 of them full time, all while supplying trained contract servicemen as Rapid Response contractors.

I fit in the middle of it all. I help Mr. M specialize in training new contractors, and filling empty contracts, anywhere that they may exist, anytime, for a nearly unlimited amount of time (hence my 6 months in one location in Juneau Alaska).

This time it was up to me to deliver a truck to Wyoming, train a new contractor, and stay there until a new contractor can be found.

All was well until....

Well it was fourth day into the week that I have been here, and the forklift that we use to off load all of our appliances went "tits up" and was dead in the water, stuck on the back of our trailer. It kinda went like this...

The Fork Lift was run out of fuel, and we weren't able to start it without priming the fuel system (but we didn't know that yet). Well, first we had to fuel up the fork lift. After that, we tried to start it. And on the second crank of the starter motor, the starter solenoid welded itself open, and completely drained out battery while simultaneously frying the starter motor. That's when stuff went downhill.

The rest of the day was spent offloading any deliveries that could be made, by hand, and returning to the store, borrowing a "Load and Go" truck, and hand delivering a dryer and a gigantic fridge. But what about tomorrows deliveries???

Box Truck Rental to the rescue!




And that is where I am now. Rock Springs, Wyoming is a town of just under 20,000 people, with an average high temp of 32* and an average lo temp of 11*. This winter has been fantastic from what I hear from our daily customers, and the temperature has been significantly warmer than normal. Today was 43* and was awesome. However, the wind DOES NOT stop here in South Western Wyoming, and that really can chill a person to the bone. Two nights ago, temperatures dropped below 0* F and it was damn cold. I'm still glad that I'm not in Fairbanks Alaska though, where it should be 46 BELOW ZERO tonight! (Currently -31 during the day.)


So here is a shot I snagged during our days work.




I'm not sure exactly when I will be heading to Mobile, Alabama to collect my bike, but you guys will see it here first thing!

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

Great Read Alex
Enjoy Your Work
Ride Safe Soon on Your New Cycle

Pete,

Charlie has had a good time on his Tenere XT660z, and has not had a single mechanical issue on the way down. His only mods prior to leaving AUS were to lower the bike (via lowering link and dropping front forks) to fit his inseam a bit better, bar risers, heated grips, hand guards, and that was pretty much it. Standard stuff really.

Now, Charlies bike (he modified it in the States after a minor accident) has a KTM front end, single massive disc brake on the front, 2 into 1 exhaust pipe, and Excel rims.

Andy's bike is still pretty much stock. Other then heated grips and hand guards, it doesn't have much else on it.

Charlie uses Andy Strap's soft bags on the sides, and a pelican 1600 case on the Top. As well as a duffel on the passenger seat for extra shit.

Andy uses Steel Pony soft bags on the sides, and a large duffel across the top, along with Steel Pony tank panniers.

Both of their bikes have the nice advantage of being fuel injected with a good tank size of 22(?) liters. There bikes range outlasts our Dr650's. They also achieve better fuel economy and get about 45-50 miles per US gallon. Our DR's are lucky to get 42-43 on a good day.

Their bikes are heavier, but you don't plan to drop your bikes often. They don't have any complaints on their bikes, and from the sounds of it, they really are happy with them.

However, there is always a general consensus amongst the traveling bikers. Bring less SHIT, a lighter bike, a comfier seat, and a bigger gas tank.

If you bring less shit, you'll be right in the middle of the pack.

I think you'll like your Xt660z's

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

July 14th-21st. Days 104-111.



It took us a little while but we finally left the air conditioned comfort of the nicest hotel that we’ve stayed at thus far.



And by the end of that day, having ridden through the rain, we were where we were going to stay that night. All of our things ended up sprawled around the room, in a vain attempt to dry them out. Useless really, but we tried.



The next day was the same story, rain followed rain, and soon thereafter we landed ourselves on the Panamanian border. $16 dollars and about 2.5 hours later we landed in Volcan, Panama.



Arriving around 6pm we tried to find a lavanderia to dry our soaking wet clothes. They were all closed, and without much ado we found a cheap place to eat, and hit the sack.


The next day, awake and somber with the dreary overcast skies clouding over our enthusiasm, we hung around. Apparently Patrick was right behind us. You haven’t heard much about Patrick, but he’s a cool dude. We first met him at the Zephyr Lodge in Lanquin, Guatemala when he arrived with Charlie having traveled with him for a few weeks already. Patrick has ridden from San Francisco and is cruising on a Dr400. Please meet Patrick, who will be joining us on our way south to Panama City!



We all stayed a second night in Volcan, but not before Tom and I performed quite a bit of maintenance on our bikes. We replaced his rear wheel bearings, and my front. All under the pleasant overhang of the hostel parking area.



For all of you guys/gals who are about to take a trip, or are planning a trip, or are in the middle of a trip and don’t have a centerstand, I can HIGHLY recommend the Trail Stand offered for sale in the Vendors section of ADVrider. We’ve used it many times without fault and consider it a very useful, if not essential to our tool kit. Especially when removing wheels.



Here we are at a local motorcycle shop. Having never removed/replaced bearing, we let a “pro” show us how it was done. We paid him $8 for the removal and replacement of 5 bearings in 2 wheels. Tom wasn’t too stoked to be working on the bearings of his bike wheel. His chain had been squeaking lately, and his sprocket was pretty f’ed. It was replaced, and so was his rear bearings, and soon after we were set to go.



The five of us put up with each other and had 2 rooms to ourselves with 7 beds to split between the five of us.



The next morning, in our latent rush to get on the road, we lined up our bikes, and loaded them. AND believe it or not, the sun was shining (more or less) and we were motivated to see some of the Panamanian countryside.



Of course, before we could leave we had a chat with this guy, who liked motorcycles, and knew a guy with one, who he called, to lead us out of town. I had been carrying a Semana de Los Motos hat ever since Mazatlan and this guy was the lucky recipient. Not only was he wearing a similar style hat (the clue that he’d wear it), I didn’t want to carry it around anymore, and can’t afford to send it to my Grandpa. This guy will enjoy it for sure. He was pleased to accept it at least!



In no time at all, his friend arrived on a Yamaha XT250 and we headed out of town. At the edge of town, we found two new friends, riding a 2009 Dr650 and a 2005(?) BMW F650 Dakar. They offered to take us the rest of the way, and soon enough we ended up at the home and shop of Paul along with his friend George.



We had a look around and checked out his shop. He had a cool place.



Anyone see one of these before? A easily tuned jet for altitude compensation. Intelajet. Paul swears by them and has had one on each of his bikes since he encountered them a few years ago. I’d be interested to hear any opinions on them.



After looking around, we jumped at the chance to utilized Paul’s self offered shop and do some more general maintenance on our bikes. Tom and I installed fuel filters that Paul had on hand, I found the cause of my failed running lights (the dimmer unit failed) I re-wired my heated grips, and tuned up my rear suspension. All the while we admired his shop which housed his other bike (Dr400) and a couple of his other toys, his two Ultra lights.



Patrick also dealt with his suspension which had been a bit spongy lately. All was well afterward.



Charlie and George shot the shit for a while after Charlie installed some Rox Risers on his Tenere. His bars had had a nasty vibration at certain revs for quite some time, and it just so happened, that Paul had some in his shop and with slight modification, Charlie’s bike became the new recipient.



Somewhere in the middle of the shop day, Tom and Andy took off towards Boquette, our destination for that night. It wasn’t far, but it was far enough. While they were riding, Charlie, Patrick, Paul, George, and I went off for some lunch. The five of us ate Chicken, Rice, and Potato salad for the generous sum of $12. Excellent.



After lunch, we finished out preparations, and took off to find Andy and Tom. We found them pretty quickly and had an easy night in Boquette, a touristy town full of Retired expats from the USA and other countries.
That night we had a look around, but not much else happened. In the morning, we had another guy lined up to show us out of town who Andy and Tom had met before we arrived; an English guy tearing up the streets of Boquette on a Yamaha WR450F that had been supermoto’ed.


We also happened to find a local Panamanian post office that was able to ship some of our things home. Andy needed to offload some things to Australia, and I intended to send some things back to my parents house north of Seattle.


In the end, Andy send 5.8 kilos home, and I shipped off 9.8 (21.5lbs). I sent my tent, my stove, my pan, a couple of trinkets, a pair of pants that were too big, a backpack, and other small miscellaneous things. All of which I had not used more than twice in over 100 days. Their departure was welcomed. It cost me $79, and I never looked back. I now have a free passenger seat for when Kristi arrives, AND provided she doesn’t bring too many things, we’ll easily be able to accommodate her small backpack and travel together. That in itself was my main concern, and has been worrying me slightly for the past month or so.


Now, I’m not too bothered, and rather excited to have her join me a month from tomorrow. I just have to decide where to fly her into, and where to fly her home from. It’s up in the air. Into Bogota, out of Cusco? Into Quito, out of Cusco? Or into Lima and out of Cusco. I’m thinking either the first or the third option. But I’m not sure yet!

On the way out of Boquette, the Panamanian roads were again nice to us, and the sun shone as well. We had an easy ride out to Almigrante, the port town that would be our passage to the island of Bocas del Toro. On the way, we had some nice scenery and came across this dammed lake quite unexpectedly.




I stopped to snap a photo, and then waited for Tom to catch up, and catch up he did as he tore through this corner.



Upon arrival in Almigrante, we soon realized that the next ferry that would be able to carry our motorcycles to the island didn’t leave until 8am the next day. A quick decision was made, and we quickly had our motorcycles parked behind a sturdy guard dog protected gate, and all of our unnecessary things locked inside a car. We ditched the bikes, and piled into the next available “lancha” out to the island which run every 30 minutes.



The boat moved at a good clip and within 30 minutes we arrived on the island.



I like being on the water and had a good time. Hey Mom and Dad! Hi Lorraine and Brandon, Ellie and Spencer! Hi Kristi! Hi Debbi and Kevin! Hello everyone else!



Patrick was “chillaxin” and also enjoying the boat ride.


Andy says “Whats up?”



As soon as we landed on the island we were propositioned by as many people as there are hostels and hotels on the island. Ruben, the most relaxed stood out from the rest and inside of 5 minutes we were on our way to his hostel called Cayena Backpackers. $10/pp and we each had a bed in an air conditioned dorm room with a private bath. Excellent.



We passed up the offer for this place, Mondo Taitu, as it was too crazy for us. Happy hour anyone?



The next few days consisted of some swimming at the beaches, hanging out with the locals, meeting up with many previous friends, and going out at night to various bars and hangout spots, namely the Iguana Bar, and Aqua Lounge. Pictures will come in the near future, but suffice it to say, it was a GOOD time.

A local buffet style place, open from 6am-11pm fed me for the handsome sum of $4 a meal, and never disappointed me. If only I could buy protein and carbohydrates like this as often as I desired.



The day after we arrived, Patrick, Charlie and Andy moved out of our hostel and into this hotel. At an unaffordable cost for Tom and I (poor bastards that we are), we placated ourselves by hanging out in the rooms. Charlie had a waterfront view, and thus his balcony served as a hangout. Beers were abundant for those who desired, cigarettes for anyone else, and food was only 3 minutes away. Easy money.



While we have been here, Anna and Kim (Kiwi) have shown up with Roberto in tow. Mara and Chilanka (Dutch) have been showing face, and Andy, Charlie, Patrick, Tom and I have been having a blast. Every spare moment I have (not too many unless we plan them) I remind myself that it’s nice to do absolutely nothing. And better yet, it’s nice to do absolutely nothing in Panama. In the Caribbean. With friends. Riding motorcycles. Meeting people. And living the dream.

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN