It's really good to know you guys are NOT wasting your time scouring the BIG DR thread over on ADV Rider!

Here's the thing with the FMF: That pipe is designed to allow re-packing. So it comes apart. But because of that ... it is sort of weak and the rivets loosen up and eventually fail. I've seen this not only on my bike (and on Jay's shown in pic above) but on several riding buddies bikes. (Big KTM 950's) All those guys have seriously sworn off FMF.

Have it welded up! You don't need the internal packing .. does nothing anyway! (useless!) So get a good MIG or TIG guy to do a neat job on it. Should be fine after that and last the trip.

Alternative pipes? there is ONE good alternative available:
It's the Titanium Can from a Suzuki GSXR 1000. Couple it with a mid pipe from Jesse (Keintech) and now you've got a an OEM quality Ti Can that will out last the bike! DR forum threads have lots of info on this GSXR can. I bought one for $50 .(more expensive now) but can still be found cheap. The Mid pipe is the part that hurts ... it goes for about $225 from Jesse.
DR650ProdList.htm

The GSXR can is a lot lighter weight than stock muffler ... but not as light as you FMF. No big deal really. It's also fairly quiet. (quieter than FMF Q4)

GSXR Titanium can on DR650

For future reference: Pro Cycle has an ALL NEW pipe in development. Looks to be very nice. Should be for sale in 6 months or less. He is Beta testing now ... and who knows? If you ask, he may send you a FREE pipe to test on your trip! (it's long term testing that he needs to do!)

New 'maintenance free' exhaust from ProCycle - no repacking : General DR650 Discussion

Good luck, hope you get things welded up before the whole thing falls apart!

Good luck!!! We just finished riding from Inuvik to Ushuaia and back up to La falda currently. We will be in Vancouver June to November, but we will be back in Argentina and Brazil after that. If you want any info or advice give us a shout.

Daniel & Sara

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Sara

Those who say something is impossible should not hinder those who are achieving it!





www.worldwideride.ca

HU RR Finding Freedom...World Wide Ride

LOL, right, there are those who read threads and those who ride bikes in South America Joke aside we did spent time collecting info but there is just so much out there. We knew about the Kientech mid-pipe + gix muffler but shied away from it just because of the size of the gix muffler. The funny thing is we used to own a couple of gix and ended up giving away the stock muffler after we sold the bikes.
The procycle model looks very promising, we'll keep it in mind if our FMF completely crap out...if they ship to Panama or wherever we are when that happens
Thanks for the all the info, we really appreciate you would condense 50 pages of thread for us

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Wow, that's an impressive ride, congrats! Thanks for offering help, at this point our biggest challenge is to find trails fun enough for the Wolf and easy enough for the Zebra. We are considering the road to Tolatongo via Nicolas Flores in Mexico, or the Tikal / Uaxactun / El Zotz / Cruce Dos Aguagas in Guatemala.

Would love to get more ideas, tracks like these.

Thanks!

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Hey Folks,

We are finally getting ahead of the ball and have found time to plan a bit better our next few weeks of riding.
Overall there seems to be several long stretch of boring highway that can't really be avoided. We would however like the get your feedback on the following itinerary:
- San Miguel de Allende / Tolantongo
we found a seemingly interesting detour thru Nuevo Rancho lake and Nicolas Flores, a tiny town in the mountains. Any thoughts

- Tolantongo - Mexico City
Just trying to get into town quickly

- Mexico City - Puebla
We might try to shoot past Puebla in order to cover a bit more ground. We are told Puebla is not really worth a stop after Mexico City

- Puebla - Oaxaca
Oaxaca is apparently not to be missed. We are considering a detour via Tuxtepec to the north just to drive thru the mountains.

- Oaxaca - Salina Cruz
Heading to famous San Christobal de Las Casas, taking a break midway for a bit of camping on the beach near Salina Cruz. Playa Brazil seems like a good spot.

- Salina Cruz - Canyon de Sumidero
Nice views from the park before San Chritobal

- San Christobal - Palenque
Visit of the ruins before heading into Guatemala via El Ceibo.

Love to hear your guys thoughts? Any bit of Off-road we should give a shot to on our way?

Cheers

http://goo.gl/maps/p0bok

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You two are in for an amazing trip. My husband and I are Americans who currently live in Panama. Last July we flew up to Arizona and bought a 2013 Suzuki Vstrom 650. We took a two-up test drive to San Diego to visit family and then started our trip to Patagonia. We drove two up back through Arizona, New Mexico and Texas to make our crossing into Mexico at McAllen Texas. We then drove down the Caribbean coast a bit before crossing over into Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and into Panama. We hung out at home in Panama for about 6 months just chilling and prepping for the second phase. In February we flew our bike down to Bogota to continue our trip to Patagonia. We had a fantastic trip with absolutely no problems whatsoever. We had originally planned to send the moto back from Lima but had no luck finding a shipping agent. Instead we found a fantastic shipping agent in Santiago and shipped the moto back from there. Just got back two weeks ago. Best trip of our lives. If you need the shipping information on either place let us know. They were both terrific. Have a safe but incredibly fun trip and keep the rubber on the road.

11 States and counting
Mainland Mexico has been keeping us very busy so we're behind on the blog but we have now managed to set foot in Baja California, Baja California Sur, Sinaloa, Nayarit, Jalisco, Guanajuato, Queretaro, Hidalgo, Mexico, Puebla and Oaxaca. Yesterday we arrived in the town of Oaxaca just in time for the Viernes Santo (or Good Friday) parade. Easter is a big deal around here, but not in the way we are used to. There are no bunnies or eggs but rather countless representations of Jesus in various states of demise or resurrection. Mary is everywhere too, in her signature colours for these parts: purple and white. It's all very serious and rather fascinating. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, we last left you in Mazatlan, so let's pick up from there.

Kayaks and cobblestones
After landing in Mazatlan we made a bee line across Sinaloa state to get to the seaside town of San Blas. The scenery changed dramatically as we approached the coast becoming a lush jungle which was a very welcome change from the hot dry ride through Sinaloa. We treated ourselves to a nice hotel on the beach after the sleepless ferry night. The next day we exchanged our bikes for a pair of kayaks and went to explore the local mangrove forests. The Wolf found himself already missing the Baja sands, so we took advantage of low season and almost no other tourists, to play in the sand dunes and catch the sunset. Our next stop was Tequila and the Wolf, in his constant quest to get us lost, decided we should take a road that was not on the GPS. It did look paved and sort of legit, so I didn't fight him too hard. The road ended up being under construction and blocked off. Of course, instead of turning around, the Wolf spotted a dirt road down the hill, so off we went to see if that would lead us nearer to the town of the famed Agave alcohol. The dirt path eventually turned into a delightful cobblestone road, that I was unable to fully appreciate as I was still nursing lingering fears of finding myself on a road beyond my skill level... again. We made it safely to Tequila, albeit after dark, and found ourselves a dodgy hotel for the night. Lesson we learned: if they show you pictures of the room instead of taking you to see it, that's a bad sign.

Where the Wolf fell in love with cobblestone streets

Jose Cuervo and more cobblestones
Tequila is a town that seems to be completely dominated by Jose Cuervo. There are other brands represented, but most of the center is taken up by a gigantic compound dedicated to the the Cuervo crow and the tequila they make. We took a tour of the factory, ate some of the agave miel and tasted various kinds of the wicked brew at different stages of production. Some of them almost blew our heads off, and some were gently sippable. On our way out of town, the Wolf spotted another cobblestone road. He had formed a deep affinity for cobblestones the previous day, so we once again followed the road. This time it was lined with the oak trees that produce the barrels the and led us a few kilometers up the Tequila volcano before we decided it was going to be a dead end and turned around to get back on track. We couldn't leave the Wolf- and Zebramobile out of all the tequila fun so we took them into a field of agave plants to pose for some photos.

The Wolf & Zebramobile keeping their distance from Blue Aguave

The first traffic jam since California
As we approached Guadalajara on a Thursday afternoon, the dense traffic and busy city grid made it clear that we were dealing with our first real city since Los Angeles. Following our temperamental GPS, we reached the hotel we had found online to discover an interesting trick, historical facades and Spanish courtyards hiding a maze of stairs, hallways and tiny windowless rooms. Trying to follow the Wolf on the hunt for a new place to stay, I found myself blocked on the Cathedral's plaza by a threatening flight of stairs. A perfect excuse to stop, wait and admire the Cathedral while the Wolf jumped curbs and split lanes towards our next hotel. We landed a block from the YMCA and were greeted by a 1972 Ironhead Harley and a BMW GS belonging to two American brothers retired here. With the help of their suggestions we discovered the very posh Providencia district and the hype pubs of Terranova Ave. We enjoyed chill brunches under the Jacarandas of old Colonial homes around Libertad and bounced at Chacal, a cool new club that put many San Francisco acts to shame.

Chacal, our first good tunes in a long, long while

A Spanish cubist dream
Our next stop was Guanajuato, a city whose world renown had not reached our ears. Unable to find a decent dusty path through the plain, The Wolf reluctantly agreed to wear our knobbies down on the "Cuota", the express tollway. We swallowed 300 kms in a few hours to discover a city of imbricated cubes of color precariously hanging from the steep slopes of convergent canyons. To add to our amazement, Guanajuato is served by two layers of streets, one underground originally conceived as a way to channel waters from the surrounding mountains. The other overground neatly weaving stairs and inclines to adapt to the demanding relief. The silver rich earth kept Spain's attention until the 18th century, they left an indelible mark on the city, the brighter aspect of which can be admired in the University, theater and palaces. We spent hours marvelling at the man facets of Guanajuato, from its many plazas shaded by topiary trees to the ever changing colors of its buildings around sunset.

A week of rest
Only 60 kms away lay another gorgeous colonial town, San Miguel de Allende, home to the largest colonies of retired Americans that we have seen so far. We took advantage of the hospitality of a local friend, Linda, and thoroughly enjoyed her company for a full week. My inner artist led us to join an art walk of "La Fabrica la Aurora", a rather impressive Art & Design center, kindly referred to an adult summer camp by our host. Our stay allowed us to finally change our bikes' oil that overheated in Baja and rid the Wolfmobile's fuel filter of unknown debris that had choked his performance since San Francisco. We then turned our attention to route planning, devised new ways to coerce OSM, Garmin and Google maps to collaborate and mapped our way to the Guatemalan border. Itching for more dirt, The Wolf took some time to scout out the local dirt tracks, collecting a variety of cactus thorns in the process. Once he'd gotten all the crazy riding out of his system, he took me to one of the river beds he'd found for some long overdue Zebra training. We practiced balance, clutch control and manoeuvring the bike through rocks. All these drills should make it easier to follow the Wolf when the wilderness calls.

Majestic San Miguel de Allende

The first split
Wilderness was already knocking on the door, as the Wolf found some trails and back roads to the Tolantongo hotsprings, our last stop before Mexico City. To the wolf's despair, the first day's back roads were all paved. He was close to calling a cliff a trail when we saw a 2 km detour on the dirt. Things started out easy enough but the small gravel soon turned into large, loose rocks, that once again had me down on the ground. My frustration gave way to awe once we discovered that our campsite for the night would be the front porch of a unoccupied villa at the mouth of a canyon. The view made our cactus-thorns-on-rubber breakfast the next morning slightly less indigestible and wielding tire irons is a good warm-up for a day of adventure.

This was the occasion to finally put on the new Heidenau tire we'd carried since San Francisco. Then we started riding. My crash from the previous day left me without enough confidence to tackle 60 kms of unknown roads. For the first time I left the Wolf to enjoy the mountain trails while I found my way to Tolantongo on pavement.

He was able to try all the crazy things his Wolfy heart desired, which included a crazy stair climb at the end (I have video to post later) He's totally badass. This gave me time to set up camp next to the azure waters of the Tolantongo river, in a nice isolated spot. This was without counting on "Semana Santa" that drove an uninterrupted flow of tourists to our camp throughout the night. We woke up surrounded by screaming kids and tents secured to the Wolfmobile tires. While it felt very disruptive, this chaos turned out to be excellent preparation for our next stop: Mexico City.


We woke up surrounded. The Wolfmobile was lucky not to get a tent peg in his front tire

More pictures here

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Awesome - thanks so much! We'll definitely be in touch about shipping when the time comes.

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A city of 8.8 million people
After meeting a few hundred mexican tourists in the small campground at Tolantongo we decided things might be more peaceful in Mexico City. We broke down the camp and left the hotsprings as early as we could. The Wolf's reconnaissance of the area's trails paid off and he assessed that I ought to manage the dirts trails out of the canyon. It was a fun ride, perfectly suited to test my newly acquired skills, and I was rewarded with breathtaking views of mountains, switchbacks and the bright turquoise waters far below. Once we were out of the mountains we once again hit the tollway toward our next stop, Mexico D.F. I was feeling intimidated by tackling the world renowned traffic of the country's capital and bribed the Wolf to ride a little slower than usual to make sure I did not get lost in the melee. The time spent wrestling the GPS into submission at Linda's house paid off and it obediently led us to a charming love hotel aptly named: "MaxIntimo"

A city full of wonders

Just a sample of the dramatic architecture around Mexico City
Mexico D.F. or just "D.F." as it's known locally, is spectacular in the grandeur of it's dramatic and opulent historical buildings and also in the dilapidation and deterioration of others. A city so steeped in history has more to see than can be managed in a week, so we had to be very selective. We spent a full day meandering around the Bosque de Chapultepec with it's museums, castles and monuments and even managed to find the hidden auditorium garden. It's a shady cove with a some benches where you can come sit peacefully while listening to classical music pouring from the speakers hidden amongst the trees.

A city under police supervision
The police in D.F. have an atrocious reputation, which we quickly learned is well deserved. On a quest to find the one ferreteria in town selling German crafted Knipex pliers, we got intercepted by Municipal cops in a flashy Dodge Charger. A series of interactional missteps stood in the way of a liberating bribe. Instead, the poor Zebramobile was ridden to the impound by a smirky cop, Zebra hanging to the back seat for fear our steed would disappear on its way. There, a bogus charge taught us how creative cops can be. With the help of US$130 and the assistance of an unforgettably kind taxi driver, the Zebramobile was back on the streets determined to stay clear of any red/blue lights. A visit to the Frida Kahlo museum, a lovely brunch at Maque Pasticeria in Condesa, a few 25 Pesos tostadas at Coyoacan market and 500 pesos sushi on the desperately chic deck of the Condesa DF hotel, sufficed to rekindle us with D.F.

Semana Santa in Oaxaca

Viernes Santa (Good Friday) parade in Oaxaca.
With a blessing of the Angel of the Independence and our lungs full of smog, we escaped the city's traffic on our way to Oaxaca. We stopped for a night in Tehuacan to catch up with the Amazing Spiderman, in English, and felt the tremor of a distant Nicaraguan earthquake.
For our arrival on Viernes Santo, at the end of la Semana Santa, bleeding christs and Klansmen hoods animated the streets of the otherwise peaceful Oaxaca. A Wolf on a horse was the other unusual event that happened that week! At Rancho Pitaya we traded our DRs for champion endurance horses and trotted the hills around Mitla marvelling at the Nueve Puntas mountain in the horizon. An excellent warmup for the next leg of our trip.

More pictures here.

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Escaping the asphalt
We left you guys as we were exploring the region east of Oaxaca with Centurion and Spirit, our two endurance champion horses. Our plan for the next couple of days called for a 150km detour through the indigenous Mixe mountains of the Sierra Juarez. Our prospective route included several gaps neither Google maps nor our GPS was able to fill. To soothe the Zebra nerves, tense at the thought of pulling our DRs out of unexpected cliffs, we stopped by Hierve el Agua to take a dip in its mineral pools with breathtaking views.
There we were lucky enough to meet Azael, a native from Quetzaltepec, one of the main Mixe villages, who was not only able to confirm the existence of decent trails but also recommend us to his cousin Gaspar, owner of the only hotel in town. His directions would be something we were going to hear a lot: "ask for Gaspar to anyone in town, they'll be able to point you to his house!"
We then begun a long climb. Our GPS elevation plot showed a steep curve, 1000m, 2000m, and we found ourselves in the clouds, with the kind of visibility a Londoner would not laugh about. It was an odd thing to find ourselves sweating in the sun then shivering in the clouds within a short hour. Soon the pavement ended and we begun traversing tiny villages hanging on the mountainside where villagers would stare at us in disbelief, unsure of what was most incredible, our fierce DRs or the Zebra ponytail flailing in the wind. We eventually reached Quetzaltepec and were indeed pointed to Gaspar's house without hesitation. We never saw Gaspar but the hotel was real: it's called Hotel Dos Mille and for 100 pesos we were able to drop our bags in a spartan, but clean, room.

Entering the cloud

Playing Postman Pat
At sunset we took a stroll through town to hunt for some food. Instead we bumped into Hector, a very friendly minibus driver we had passed earlier. Despite our limited Spanish, we explained we were heading East through the mountains. Hector immediately informed us we would be driving through his parents's town, he then entrusted us with a letter for his dad and invited us to share dinner at his house with his lovely wife and family. We had a wonderful evening.
Some 150kms of mountain roads were on the menu for the next day. The views were sublime, and the Wolf was in his element as we wound our way up and down the mountainsides from town to town. In the afternoon we arrived unannounced at Fausto Perez's door. We were given a warn welcome, delicious tamales and a cup of coffee. As the day drew to a close we melted our way into Ixtepec, exhausted and thirsty. It was a far cry from the peaceful mountain towns in every way, and sticker shock drove us to opt for a room with a fan instead of coughing up for an air-conditioning. We would not repeat that mistake.

A very happy mountain Wolf

Crocs in murky waters
From Ixtepec we hit the asphalt towards Tuxtla Gutiérrez, some 275km away, with the hope of camping at Cañon de Sumidero. Hundreds of windmills did not manage to make the coastal segment of Hwy 200 exciting. The turnoff to the mountains of Chiapas provided a much needed relief. Cooling off with an ice-cream, we met a friendly security guard who informed us that no camping was allowed at the Cañon. We promptly found an hotel with air con in the city.
In the morning, between two bites of Barbacoa, we met Jolman. A character with fantastic stories from the other side of the border. He suggested we explore the Canon by boat from Chiapa de Corzo. We spent the rest of the day marvelling at the 1000m high cliffs, the trees decorated with monkeys and at the impressive crocodiles that guard the waters, sadly powerless against the tons of garbage floating around them.

Did you know there were mexican crocodiles? We didn't.
A short 70kms and a steep 2000m climb later, we entered San Cristobal de Las Casas, where a free night convinced us to stay at Gringo Trail favourite; Rossco Backpackers. A gaggle of loud Danish girls aside, we had a lovely time there and took full advantage of the garden to plan the Chiapas - Guatemala leg of our trip. We even indulged in the excellent Shiatsu massages of Kentaro, a reformed Tokyoite in search of Latin tranquility.


Piping hot pyramids

Trying not to melt in the heat at the Palenque ruins
So much comfort soon threw the Wolf into severe dirt withdrawal. Oblivious to accounts of recent Zapatista road blocks, we once again aimed towards the mountains to look for some more roads that google maps has not yet discovered. We rode through Tenejapa, San Juan Cancuc and Guaquitepec to land on Hwy 199 just North of Ocosingo. The further we descended toward Palenque the higher the temperature rose and by the time we arrived we were very close to evaporating.
After a night spent cooling down in air con, we set foot for the majestic Mayan pyramids of Palenque, home, or shall I say tomb of the famous Pakal. A bit of negotiation even got us a guide for $16 instead of the initially quoted $80. The site is striking and it was provocative to hear our guide opine about why the mayan civilisation degenerated all those years ago.

Closing the Mexican chapter
After much map analysis, we had elected to cross into Guatemala at the tiny "El Ceibo" border. We theorized that our chances of surviving the administrative process required to check our bikes out of Mexico and into Guatemala would be improved if we showed up at the crack of dawn. Part of the plan called for spending our last night in beautiful Tenosique in the scalding state of Tobasco, Despite its location on the banks of the river Usumacinta, we must confess the city failed to impress us. Noticing locals fishing at the mouth of sewage pipes undoubtedly did not help. After a delicious vegetarian meal, we got our paperwork in order and found once again refugee in a blissfully cold air con room.
The green fields enlacing each curve of the road to the boarder made us feel optimistic, rightfully so as we discover El Ceibo as the custom offices were opening. The whole process went remarkably smoothly with the officials on both sides getting out of their way to help. A short hour later our wheels were treading the Guatemalan soil.

More photos here

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Thundershowers in Tikal
Our first destination in Guatemala was the famed site of the Tikal ruins, where some of the highest mayan temples can be found poking their heads up above forests alive with the sounds of howler monkeys and birdsong. After a refreshing dive in the crystal clear waters of Lago Peten-itza, we reached the park entrance and found a closed gate. An enthusiastic guide informed us that if we entered after 3:30pm, our ticket would be valid until the next day. Flashing his official guide card and receipt book, he convinced us to book a sunrise tour at 4:30am the following day.

Majestic Tikal!

We woke up at 4:15am to find the heavens had opened the sluice gates. The beam of our flashlights revealed the absence of our guide and we happily returned to bed, determined to sort out matters later. And we tried hard. At 8am we were dragged into the maze of guide politics and learned that only Union registered guides worked inside Tikal. Other guides, although duly registered with the Guide Authority were barred from recruiting tourists inside the park. We nevertheless squeezed out of the Union leader the name of the town our guide lived in. After a self guided trip around the ruins, and attempting the road to Uaxactun - which was too muddy for Zebras - we decided to ride the North shore of Lago Peten-itza and pay a visit to our guide, whose village was conveniently located on our way. Everyone knows everyone in those small villages and we soon found ourselves knocking at his door. Surprise does not adequately describe the look on his face when he saw us. He promptly regained composure and served us a rather credible story justifying his absence that morning. He was reluctant to give us a full refund at first, but the Wolf can be convincing, and soon we were on our way, with our deposit and an apology for the experience.

The Zebra's rocky breakthrough

The Hostal Las Marias in Semuc-Champey. Next time we might give a shot at Las Portal down the road

Next up, the strikingly turquoise waters of Semuc Champey. Our GPS confidently pointed us to a fairly direct route, which much to the Wolf's delight, included about 40kms of rocky dirt roads, winding through the mountains. The views of green valleys, nestling between endless rolling mountains, were breathtaking. It was also a break through moment for the Zebra, who, after some goading from the Wolf about being passed by local guys on a crappy bikes with no helmets, decided to just gas it through the rocks, with good success. Since then she has been much happier riding more advanced terrain. Semuc Champey provided us with a chance to hike up to miradors and soak in the pools afterwards - a very nice relief from the heat we had been experiencing for weeks.

Wolf and Zebra in the mist

Relaxing at Georgina Fuentes, a few kms South of Chichicastenango.

We left Semuc Champey in the rain and continued to traverse Guatemala along dirt roads, navigating mudslides and fully experiencing the 'wet season' in Central America. We rode through Uspantan and Cunen leaving the indigenous villages of Chajul and Nebal behind us to reach Chichicastenango and its famed Sunday market. Our route then took us South-east towards Quetzaltenango to check out the nearby hot springs called Fuentes Georgina. They are so named because President Jorge Ubico frequently visited Quetzaltenango, during his government, only to bathe in these thermo waters. He made caravans with his wife Georgina, protected by his police. The hot springs are shrouded by mist and create a very ethereal atmosphere to rest and restore weary muscles. After our soothing bath we were ready to ride the 200 odd kilometers to Antigua to start our 2 weeks of Spanish school.

A Spanish Immersion

With our host family in Antigua. Thanks so much for the wonderful experience

We had attempted to evaluate the many, many Spanish language schools in Antigua online, but in the end we made our decision to study at Antigueña by walking into the schools, meeting the people and evaluating things in person. Within an hour of signing up with Julio, we were introduced to the family that would host us for our home stay and had moved into our new home. How wonderful it was to unpack things for more than 24 hours! The following two weeks allowed us to greatly improve our Spanish, fix the Zebramobile's subframe that fell victim to the 500,000 or so topes (speedbumps) conquered since Mexico and reinforce the Wolfmobile against a similar fate! We also managed to catch up on a few movies and blogposts at the Bagel Barn's. Isabelle, the owner, plays free nightly movies including some interesting documentaries on Guatemala's history, highly recommended! On our first weekend, we climbed Pacaya, one of the 3 volcanoes surrounding the town, and discovered steaming 4 month old lava in a lunar landscape. After two weeks of a very early schedule - up at 6:30am every day - we decided to take a weekend off and take a little spin around Lake Atitlan. We left most of our luggage with our family, grabbed a single backpack and set off, two-up, on the Zebramobile. You can read about our Atitlan Antics in this post

More photos here

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Salvatruchas for a week
It was with a bit of sadness that we left Antigua and our host family. To cheer us up Zebra's friend from University, Rodrigo, was waiting for us in El Salvador. After the usual 3 infernal hours of immigration-custom-copy shop loop, we entered El Salvador at Las Chinamas and begun climbing towards "La Ruta de las Flores". The road winds through the numerous coffee plantations of the region. Once a year, usually in May, the coffee plants blossom into millions of white flowers, giving this road its name. As luck would have it, the bloom was late but rain was on time. Wet to the bone, we cut our sightseeing short (there were no flowers to see anyway) and rushed towards the Capital and dry towels.

A view of El Salvador from the restaurant La Pampa"

Rodrigo and his lovely wife met us at the Cumbres del Volcan Hostal, our refuge for the next few days, and took us for a fancy dinner at La Pampa. The restaurant is perched on the side of the San Salvador Volcano, offering breathtaking views of San Salvador. On the menu for us the next day, our friend had planned some relaxation at the "Circulo Deportivo Internacional", a very shi shi member-only club located in the heart of the Capital, boasting tennis courts, squash courts, an Olympic pool, a gym and a couple of restaurants. Needless to say we found it very difficult to end an afternoon of such luxury after almost 3 months on the road. In a vain attempt to top that experience and enjoy a rare sunny day, we rode down to the coast to check "El Sunzal" a known surf spot. Paddling started to feel like a lot of work, so we settled for a swim and cocktails at the "Hotel Kayu" instead. Eager to explore the mountains behind the coast, we returned along a narrow road climbing to "Chiltiupan" and to our delight the road, still under construction, traces the mountain ridge offering a fun ride and sweeping views on both sides of nearby valleys and the ocean. A turn to "Comasagua" lead us back to San Salvador and to "Paseo El Carmen", the popular bar district West of the city, for a few locally brewed cervezas with Rodrigo. Thoroughly rested, and finally dry, we got back on the road to explore the Northern part of the country heading toward Perquin.

Lago Suchitlan

The road North toward Lake Suchitlan allowed us to fulfil our never-ending quest to always stay the hell away from the PanAmerican highway. Our plan was to spend the night as close to the Honduras border as possible. With any luck, we could drag ourselves (mostly me) out of bed early and cross 2 borders in one day, minimise our time in Honduras and get to Nicaragua. But more of that later. Perquin, a small mountain village with a gloomy history, met our requirements. Despite Google Maps' protests, we followed the Hwy CA3 in an attempt to cut through rivers and bushes to get us to Perquin. A bit to my disappointment (and the Zebra's relief), instead of bushes, we found a recently paved highway offering beautiful views onto the lake Suchitlan. After a long days ride, a friendly military checkpoint and a few more downpours, we dragged our soggy selves into Perquin. The night proved too short to dry our clothes, and in waterlogged boots, we prepared for our border crossing Marathon. It started at at El Amatillo around 8am and by 11am we were in Honduras and speeding along CA1 towards the El Espino border. Finally at 3pm we entered Nicaragua eager to find a spot to relax.

Somoto Canyon

Such a campsite was surely worth getting wet for

As it turned out our friends at Moto Pasaran had recommended the Somoto Canyon, a recent world heritage site thanks to its random discovery in 2004. Following our (ocassionally) trusted GPS through a rock garden and a difficult river crossing (read, I went down twice), we reached a small beach at the mouth of the canyon. There we met Eddie Jimenez. His family has owned part of the canyon for generations and he and his son now run small tours and tubing expeditions there. He gave us his thumbs up to camp on the beach, so we proceeded to spend the next couple of days thoroughly enjoying ourselves exploring canyons and lazying by the riverside.

More pictures here

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Somoto Canyon, Nicaragua to Lake Arenal, Costa Rica
June 1 to June 25, 2014

Kings of Leon
After a very pleasant introduction to Nicaragua, our GPS once again led us unknowingly to the dirty route down to Leon via El Sauce. The views were vast and beautiful and the stones manageable (my skills are continually improving) but since we were not expecting to find ourselves off the beaten path we were low on gas. I began to nag the Wolf to stop and ask someone to sell us some, but in his ever-confident and unflappable manner he said he thought we would be fine, and of course, as always, we were as we bumped into a gasolinera about 5 miles before the Wolfmobile choked. With a sigh of relief and the last fractions of daylight we rolled into Leon and checked in at the Lazybones hostel. It lived up to it's name as we found ourselves to be remarkably lethargic while there. The fact that the hostel had a swimming pool, combined with Leon being a special kind of sticky and hot, meant we never left hostel for more than an hour or two at a time, and the majority of our exploring was done after dark. In our nocturnal wanderings we bumped into a remarkable French restaurant named "Le Turon" managed by Yann and his associate, two French castaways. The food was the best we had in a long time bringing a touch of luxury to our rough travels.

The brilliant landscape from Somoto to El Sauce

A tale of two volcanoes
Once we had come to the conclusion that we were incapable of being effective in the heat of Leon, we loaded up the bikes and headed for the heat of Ometepe island instead, bypassing Managua and Granda in the process. We didn't know that the island heat would come with a generous topping of miggies (South African for midges) When we arrived at the ferry dock, I thought it was raining at first, until I opened my visor a crack and found my nose, mouth and eyes full of the foul little flies. They were blowing past in veritable clouds, and despite my optimistic hopes, they were all over the island as well. We eventually got used to the plague and even managed to relax in Playa Santo Domingo for a day with our books before taking a tour on the dodgy dirt road around the volcan Maderas. After we had our fill of volcano views (we never mustered the motivation to actually climb one, which would have taken at least 8 hours!) we headed back to the dock to ferry ourselves back to the mainland and the road to San Juan del Sur. The schedules were confusing and prices seemed to change based on who you asked, so we eventually found ourselves to be the sole tourists on a ferry that had been chartered by the church. It was more of a chicken-ferry than anything else and the Wolf and I looked at each other incredulously as chickens, pigs and parrots boarded with thousands of people and soon all parts of the Zebra and Wolfmobiles were footrests, bag holders and everything short of chairs.

The twin volcanoes of Concepción and Maderas that make up Ometepe Island

A plush pause
In San Juan del Sur we were determined to find a cheap beach spot to stay, but we also wanted it to be nice. As a result we entered our usual loop of try to make the other one decide and looked at about 8 places to stay before saying: "screw it" and checking in to the slightly pricey (although they gave us a deal!) and super plush Hotel Liri. Managed by a family from Barcelona, it's on the beach, with a swimming pool, and most importantly after our past few stays, air-conditioning. I used to be one of those people that was mildly opposed to air-conditioning, arguing that it was better to just adjust to the temperature. That was before I traveled Central America by motorcycle. We enjoyed a few days of carefree swimming in the ocean and exploring the coastline - at least the parts that were not closed due to the latest episode of Survivor being filmed in the area.

The crescent bay of San Juan del Sur

Cruising into Costa Rica
When the time arrived to finally cross into Costa Rica we took the coastal road, that is supposed to turn up and head to the border at Penas Blancas. The road does indeed do what we expected, but what Google or our GPS didn't tell us is that a military camp is in the spot where the road turns. It might not have been a problem if an exercise was not taking place that same day so we were firmly but kindly turned around by two Nicaraguan army guys and forced to take the normal road to the border. The poor Wolf was shattered. After the usual border crossing saga, we bombed down to Bahia Salinas - another spectacular crescent bay. You can read more about what happened next in this post. After our bundu bashing in the hills of Costa Rica we stopped in to see Debbie and Andy in Playa Flamingo for a much needed visit with friends, some time to catch up with the inter webs and an opportunity to wash everything after many weeks of sweating in Central America. We were sad to say goodbye, but after a week we needed to get back on the road and we were eager to finally see Lake Arenal.


The Lake Arenal Hotel and Microbrewery

Tony Parsons, a friend kite instructor from the Bay Area, had sent us in the direction of the Lake Arenal Hotel and Microbrewery which will only be there for another month before moving to a new location in Tamarindo - so go visit soon! J-P welcomed us and gave us shelter from the rain, and we have to say, that this was the best value hotel we have stayed at so far - the views of the lake are postcard-perfect.

More pictures here

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Lake Arenal, Costa Rica to Cartagena, Colombia
June 12 to June 21, 2014

Mind the Gap

Most people never hear about the Darien gap until they try to drive from Panama to Colombia, which granted not many people do. They then learn of this 100 or so kilometers of unruly jungle haunted by Guerillas, Narco traffickers and other scary creatures. The Darien Gap is the only interruption in the 48.000km long Pan-American highway. Several sailboats of variable seaworthiness offer travellers a 5 days ride from Panama City to Cartagena. Among them, one has achieved legendary status, the Stahlratte.
Our only dilemna, this 100 year old German monument was scheduled to cruise around Cuba when we needed it. Consequently the Wolf and I had been debating for weeks what other methods we could employ to cross the Gap. The other sailboats were incredibly expensive, and rumour has it, also corrupt and/or unsafe. Using a container ship seemed like a logistical nightmare, as did flying with the bikes. As we hit obstacle after obstacle, it became increasingly difficult to convince the Wolf that it was a BAD idea to try and ride through the swamps between Panama and Colombia. He started to settle for the idea of riding as far south as possible and trying to find small lanchas (row boats) to get us to Turbo in Colombia. I felt very uncomfortable with this, for countless reasons, probably mostly because I'm a worrier. On the morning of June 12, as we were enjoying a tasty breakfast at Lake Arenal Hotel, we received an email from Markus and Karen with whom we were considering sharing a container. They politely declined stating they had reserved a spot on the Stahlratte departing Carti harbor on June 17. The Wolf and I stared at each other in disbelief, rushed to our laptop to re-check the Stahratte's schedule, and there it was, Carti - Cartagena: June 17.

Riding under rain

The news the Stahlratte was back was fantastic. But we were still in Costa Rica. And we had no idea if they even had space for us. We spent 10 minutes counting the kilometres and decided it was possible to get to Panama City in 4 days, if we were heavy on the throttle. We decided to take our chances, sent an email to Captain Ludwig to ask if he had room onboard and started riding. We stopped for lunch a few hours later and received the good news through the Pollo Loco free wi-fi, Ludwig had a spot for us. The weather did not cooperate with our expedited schedule and heavy rain pelted us for 2 straight days. We spent the first damp night in Cahuita, a lovely town on the Caribbean coast, and then crossed into Panama in a monsoon the next day. We kept going until Boquette, where we spent a day recovering before the long haul to Panama City. We turned our delightful room at La Casa del Abuela into something that is stinkier than a men's locker room as we tried in vain to dry some of our sodden things. Luckily our ATG luggage kept everything in our side bags dry, but everything we were wearing - jackets, pants, glove and even helmets, had not withstood 2 days of heavy, heavy rain.

Pushing it on the Pan American

Our friendly Panama City tour guides

In the morning we donned our damp gear and, for the first time in ages, we headed down the Pan-American. It was a long, boring day punctuated by a strange interaction with the Panamanian police. They pulled us over, asked if we had kids (?), inquired about our Replay cameras, then hastily scribbled a speeding ticket for $50, told us to only pay $20 at the office, and then they sped off like the devil was behind them. We finally pulled in at the Panama House B&B at 17:00, exhausted. The Wolf, finding energy from who knows where, insisted that we rush straight back out to explore Panama City in the last light of day. We bumped into a friendly local and his son and they kindly gave us a 2 hour express tour of the city's highlights. The next morning we made the acquaintance of several other bikers that were all bound for Colombia on the Stahlratte, and headed off to Carti with them to meet the Captain and load up the ship.

A fleet of flying bikes

We arrived at the dock a little late, having been delayed by more rain and a protest that blocked the road. Once we arrived, Captain Lulu and his crew got to work at once. It was very clear they have done this before and each bike was winched up into the sky and swung onboard, where it would be covered and tied down for the next 5 days. The heavy lifting completed, we were assigned beds below deck - we were all the way up front with the Captain, which seemed like a good thing until we realised that was where one felt the most rocking in rough seas. The course was set for one of the Kuna inhabited islands and en route we were fed the first of many amazing meals onboard. We arrived at the island in grey weather but the rain held off while we were entertained with local dances and dinner, and then we spent a very humid night in the Kuna huts, scattered between beds and hammocks.

Island paradise
The next two days saw us living an island paradise dream, complete with soft white sand, warm turquoise waters, a rope swing, good snorkelling, rum punch and spectacular sunsets. Just as we were thoroughly relaxed and ready to give up on civilised life, Captain Underpants got things moving again and began the crossing. Anti-nausea pills were passed around like candy - everyone but the Wolf took some. He was determined to be the hero that didn't need the meds, and he was. I did not get ill, but was happy to have taken the pills when I experienced the odd woozy moment. We spent a full day and night at sea - the night being lit up by phosphoresce tickling the bow, and mirroring the stars above - then we pulled into Cartagena. By then Captain Underpants had once again found his pants and was impressing upon us the urgency of getting to the embassy quickly before things shut down - it was Friday after all and there was no telling how early the immigration agents would start their weekend. And so our entry to South America began.

More pictures here

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wolfandzebra.com

Cartagena, Colombia to Medellin, Colombia
June 20 to July 14, 2014



A colourful cast of characters
We did not bump into many other riders throughout Central America, except for the friendly couple from Motopasaran and some rude chap on a BMW who didn't bother to stop and say "hi". On the Stahlratte however, we were happily acquainted with many other adventure riders all aiming South. The Wolf got to talk bikes with people who actually know what MT-09's, TRX850's, and SZR660's are! Most of the folks were heading to Ushuaia with a schedule that would get them there in the coming summer season, so we'll all be within a month or so of each other as we ride South. We eventually pieced together that the 'rude' BMW rider who'd passed us on Ometepe was in fact Mr Peter Domhill (on a BMW 800GS), who'd been rushing to make his hotel before dark, and he's actually rather nice when he's not late. You can read about the rest of the zoo animals here. After crossing the gap, the lot of us found ourselves camped out together at the Hostal Real in Cartagena with a bunch of bikes cluttering the courtyard.



Calefaction on the Caribbean coast
Cartegena was very, very hot and it was in this heat we weaved through manic traffic to find new tires, insurance and other spare parts. For me, this was far more terrifying than riding in any of the cities thus far, including Mexico D.F. It's possible though, that I was merely struggling to adjust to being back on land. I seemed to suffer with dizziness much longer on solid ground than I did when first getting on deck. Once the maintenance chores were done (which were complicated by a few holidays that apparently even the locals didn't know about) we felt the call of cool mountains was far stronger than that of baking beach towns. We packed up and headed directly for Minca. We found a fantastic fresh refuge in the mountains called Sans Souci, where our accommodations consisted of an outdoor bed with a mosquito net strung up. We also found our buddies from the boat, Ryan and Marcos el Narko, who had left Cartagena a day before us. The following days were spent hanging around in hammocks and lazily exploring the peaceful surroundings.



The allure of more adventure
Once recovered from our near-melt on the coast, we packed up our gear and made our way to the "adventure zone" of the Santander Department; known for white water rafting, paragliding, rock climbing and other sports. Our first stop was Bucaramanga, where we made the acquaintance of the famous Richie Mantilla at Colombia Paragliding. He shared motorcycling tips for South America, and hooked us up with a spot of paragliding off the Mesa de Ruitoque. For any aspiring paragliding pilots, this is the cheapest place to get your license: 15 days and US$1,500 including accommodation and lessons, with good updrafts all day every day.



Climbing the walls
Next up we followed Marcos El Narko to Refugio de la Roca, a climbing hostel and camp spot with astonishing views, and set out to do some serious rock climbing. Luckily we bumped into Michelle - a San Francisco native - who actually had equipment, and knew what she was doing. Unfortunately for her, she didn't realise we were total rookies until it was too late, and the Wolf was boldly executing his first ever lead climb with no clue the quickdraws had to be clipped on in a particular way. The Wolf is incredibly good at many things, even things he's never done before, so Michelle's anxiety was for naught and the day of climbing was a huge success. Since our climbing had gone so well, we conferred with Marcos and the 3 of us agreed to set our sights on hiking into the El Cocuy National Park. We first made our way to the charming little town of Barichara and spent a couple of days relaxing at the Hostel Tinto before heading to the Parque National. You can read all about our El Cocuy adventure in "The Good, the Farc and the Cocuy"



Stones and Water
After our hiking detour, during which the Wolf learned to his surprise that he doesn't really enjoy hiking at altitude (or perhaps at any time really), we started making our way West. We crossed more mountain ranges on dirt roads and meandered through many small pueblas en route to Guatape. We stopped for a quick night in Villa de Leyva before cranking out a massive day of 10 hours in the saddle and arriving at the Lakeview Hostel after dark. The name "Guatapé", comes from the Quechua language, related to "stones and water" and the town lives up to it's name with a web of waterways surrounding it, and the famous El Peñon towering over it. Nick and Greg, the hostel owners, directed us to a few lesser-traveled routes around the area, with great swimming holes, waterfalls and a collection of towns that were deeply, and relatively recently, affected by "La Violencia". After throughly exploring the surrounding areas of Guatape, we braced ourselves for the big city of Medellin. We'd heard many great things about it, and I was convinced that we'd be disappointed with such high expectations. Instead we were overwhelmed by how marvellous Medellin actually is... but that's a story for next time.

See more pictures here

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