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

And for those who have been waiting. My foot makes it appearance!


So, after 2 full days in the same bandaging, I decided to hit the pharmacy, buy some sterile gauze and wrapping. It was a hassle getting there, but we arrived (Tom, my faithful wheelchair pusher came with) and I also ordered myself some Muletas. (Crutches, cause I’m gonna need them). Apparently crutches that support 6’6”ers aren’t readily available. However, I paid for some, and I can pick them up on Monday. Awesome.


Back then we went to the hotel, on the way, swinging buy a DODGY section of town in search of earbud headphones. I suppose we should have told the taxi driver that we didn’t need want just any pair. (Tom likes his music and the $1.50 set he ended up with aren’t going to cut it).

Back at the hotel we didn’t do a lot of much until I got off my ass, stopped surfing the web (great Wifi in the room) and whipped out the goods I had bought earlier. I laid them out in preparation, and then started removing my old bandages.

They looked like this… Ugh. Leakage.




A little deeper and it didn’t look so gnarly.




I do have some decent bruising though. Niiiiiice.




Hmmm. The incision is longer then I remember. I didn’t get a look at it before though…




Fully removing the gauze caused a bit of pain for sure… Like peeling a scab.




Ahhhh, the full frontal!




A little closer.




Next to a pack of Cigarettes for size comparison. I’m guessing about 5 inches? 12.5cm?




And, after application of some Neosporin, brand new sterile cotton, and a clean new wrap, it went in a clean sock. Presto.




I was well pleased with how well the stitching appeared in comparison to the incision. When the doctor told me I had only received 11 stitches, I was worried that there might be some gaps between the stitches that were significant enough to promote a less than satisfactory healing process. I was happy to see that I worried in vain.

Hopefully the bone heals well!

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

Gnarly!

Make sure you do as much physio as you can. I didn't when I had a bad accident, also involving my ankle. Now ten years later Im paying the price.
Hope the rest of the continent goes smoother!

Chris

Just read this entire thread from start to finish. Firstly, get well soon, I hope you heal solidly and as painlessly as possible.

Secondly, thanks for taking the time to post such a great series of reports so that we can follow along with your journey. It's great inspiration for one I hope to take off on some day not too far away.

Stay safe,

Justin.

Firstly:

Dirtypot: I didn´t break my ankle, just my fibula. All will be well! I too hope I don´t any more issues like this later in the continent!

mr_magicfingers: Thanks for commenting! Get on the road. The time is now!

...
...
...

Today, Tom took the highroad and beat feet to Santa Marta on the Caribbean coast. After 5 nights in this hotel room, he was ready to get the hell out of town. The internet in our room has been down, and that means no downloading of films, new music, or just plain old web surfing. He made it long enough. I´ll see him upon his return on Saturday or sooner. He´ll be in touch.


The police have been on and off since the accident. Call me at this time and this day said Juan Pablo (the police man). I called him yesterday at noon. He told me he would come later, around 4. He never came. Tom was being patient. He wants to help me get my bike, as I am currently crippled. But it was taking too long for me to even bother asking him to wait.

And so Tom packed his things, and on his way out the door, Juan Pablo and company came waltzing in. In muttered, nearly unintelligible spanish I heard the following.

Your bike is with the traffic case lawyer.

He´s going to meet you here at the hotel at 1pm (30 minutes ago).

I (Jaun Pablo) can´t do anything besides wait for him.

He´ll talk to you about your bike.

You´re probably going to have to wait 2 or 3 more days (I plan on 5... 6...?)

It is all up to the traffic case lawyer man.


Well Tom was there, and he heard the same thing. I told him to get the hell out of here, I´d see him in 4-5 days. If he was lucky, my bike would be with me when he got back.

We fist bumped and he left.

The cops gave me their handshakes, and left.

I got on the computer for the 100th hour since I arrived.

And here I sit. And wait.

Photos of my leg to come. Second bandage cleaning is in order.

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

Wow... that photo of the guy who had no gloves....

I've had a couple of funny looks from folks lately because the weather is warm and yet I insist on gloves, boots, fullface and heavy vented jacket. That photo is why. Maybe gloves might not have given him full protection, but the damage would almost certainly be less than that. Yuck!

__________________
Bruce Clarke - 2020 Yamaha XV250

The right butt cheeck of my Rev´it Sand riding pants is torn up a bit. That is all. With normal jeans on I would have ripped them apart after 30ft of sliding.

The guy should have been wearing gloves, AND, should´ve looked twice and not lane split.

Good on you for wearing your gear.

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

Anything we can do to ease the boredom?

Hmmm... Easy ways to ease the boredom. I think that I could be out of luck.

Unless you can find a nice set of panniers that I can bolt on to Happy Trail racks.

Then send them to my parents address just north of Seattle, Wa to be picked up and delivered by my gf.

For free...

Hahahahahaha.

All by August 20th, 2011.

.............

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

Damn. It is very fortunate that I am broken, or I´d have a hell of a hard time waiting for these folks to get on the move around here.

Nothing like waiting two days for your traffic case lawyer guy to show up after he said he´d return in an hour.

Well, he arrived today and I was summoned to the lobby by the hotel bellhop. I left my airconditioned haven and stepped into the 90 degree sweat house that is the hotel.

I met the Lawyer man (Edwin) in the lobby. He told me he was really busy, night and day, night and day. I told him it didn´t matter. Beause, well, it doesn´t.

And so we took off with my paperwork (Passport, Licence, Title, Registration, and Insurance, all orgininal btw) and grabbed a taxi to the court house. I paid the 5mil (5,000 pesos) fare, and we hopped out. We walked inside, paid our visit to a man, got 10+ stamps on 6+ pages of paperwork, and left. Back to the hotel we went.

When there, he told me he would see me in 2 hours. I needed to be ready with all of my paperwork again. OK. No problem.

He´s 20 minutes late. I sit in the sweathouse. Normal.

Then, he arrives. And he leaves, with a promise to be back in 1-2 hours. He took with him my Passport, Licence, Title, Registration, and Insurance documents. ALL ORIGINAL.

I´m not worried. This guy has been doing his job, slowly, but surely. I also paid him 2/3rds of our agreed price for his services. In total I will pay him 300k pesos. Or. $170. He received 2/3 of it today, along with my documents. He´ll be back. I just don´t know when.

Have I mentioned anytime on here that I am also a Canadian citizen? Thanks to my Mom, I also carry a Canadian Passport. Oh, and I have a second license. So, in the event that my stuff never comes back, and my bike disappears... I´ll be ok... Hahahaha.

We´ll see how long it takes for him to come back this time!

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

And left a message. Everything is on track. Don't worry, I still have your paperwork, it is safe with me.

Then, Mister Laywer Man (His name is Edwin, but I like the title better) showed up to tell me the same thing, as he was afraid that I hadn't gotten his message and that I would be freaking out. Well. I haven't freaked out yet, so why bother now. I told him not to worry, I wasn't worried and that I would see him in the morning.

I asked him what time he would arrive. He told me he never knows his daily schedule, as it's part of his job. He's always running from accident to accident. BUT, he'll arrive tomorrow in the morning, Manana en la manana.

I told him I would be here waiting. Seems like we will go to get my bike from the lot tomorrow. EXCELLENT.

Today, online, I bought myself rear Happy Trail pannier racks, and after much deliberation, panniers as well. Further more, my fiberglass top case is "chinga'd" (F'ed), and so, I bought a Happy Trails Top case as well. Damn. That hurt the cash stash. It had to be done though.

My current racks are completely bent, molded, smashed, cracked, torn and unusable.
My pelican cases are beat to shit, and still after 10 days, molded to my bent racks, and likely cracked.
And my top case got launched 50 ft and slid across pavement, ripping out my trailer hitch pin lock on the bottom, creating a 3" diameter hole and cracking the seam on one side, and gouging another hole on the other.

So, Kristi has the pleasure of not only flying thousands of miles to see her half disabled boyfriend that left her for an epic motorcycle ride 4.75 months ago, but also no gets to tote 3 aluminum boxes down here with her.

In exchange, I bought her flight, am paying for the traveling we'll do together, and promise to be nice.

I call it an even trade.

Yea right. Damn. I got something good going on here! Thanks babe!

Well, right before the lawyer man arrived, I went downstairs to the restaurant that has been feeding me at least 2 of my three meals a day for the past 9 days. They serve a variety of meals, but I eat the same one every time. It's good. It's cheap. And I'm not one to mess with a good, simple, easy thing.

It's called Carne Asada on the menu. The meat is always the same. The rice changes colors from white to brown to yellow. The side dish is either potatoes of some variety, noodles of some variety, or vegetable of some variety. Toss in a bowl of soup at lunch time, and a nice slab of grilled beef, and I am a happy camper. Oh. Don't forget the bagged fruit drink of the day. Mango, Papaya, Guava, Orange. Whatever they got, I get.

Oh. And it costs 6,500 pesos. Or. $3.65.

They close at 7pm though, and I always get hungry after that. SO, rather then walk across the street to the Chinese/Colombian restaurant, and dodge 6 lanes of traffic on Crutches. I order one for the table, and one to go. EASY.

3 hours or so later, or whenever I feel like it. I open the Styrofoam box, and dig in for round two of the same meal. I love it. This kind of stuff makes me happy.

I could not care less that I eat this meal three times a day. It's GOOD.





Be sure to notice the bag of water underneath my bag of juice. The bags of water are 350ml. Or 16 ounces or so. They are 3 for less then $1. I buy them 4 at a time from the lobby. A five liter bag on the other hand is $2.50 at the corner store. The two liter of coke runs less then $1.50 at the corner store. Or $2.5 in the hotel lobby. I don't want, care, or need to bust my ass on crutches to find the deals, so I stay in my home. The Caribbean Gold Hotel.

Trying to fix this guy.




Motorcycle photos tomorrow!

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

It's hot as a witches tit in a brass bra down here and for the past three days I have been wifi-less in my room. It is an instant sweat fest if I leave the room, and the hotel lobby computers register a nice and toasty 85 degrees, with the fans blasting.

SO. I solved my problem.

I spent about and hour and 45 minutes disassembling the wireless routers on floors 2 and 3 of this hotel so I could fix my wifi signal. All in the name of getting internet access in my air conditioned room. For the past 3 days I haven't had wifi and have been using the lobby computers.

Sweating my ass off.

The 3rd floor router is f''ed, I get a great signal, connect, but can't access the web. The second floor router however, is good. But the second floor routers antenna was broken, and hanging off, pointed straight down. So I whipped out my leather man, hopped my crutched ass down the hall, and unscrewed the cover (on hallway surveillance camera) and reset both routers. Then I disassembled the antenna on the floor 2 router, re-assembled it appropriately, super glued it, re-attached it to its base where it had snapped off, and pointed it at an angle directly towards my room and VIOLA mofo's, Alex is in 70 degree heaven ON THE DAMN internet.

Thank you very much.

I'm a proud cripple.

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN

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.

Tomorrow we'll do more of the same.

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

Onward?

--Alex

__________________
NJ, NR, NBTTN