Motorcycle Travellers' News Report - May 2013, 96th Edition

"Arriving at Argentinian immigration and customs is a breeze and we are processed pretty quickly, then it is on to the Bolivian side, immigration is quick, but there is always a catch, Customs. Where is our segura (insurance), well we don't have any, our inquiries of other travelers indicated we didn't need it for Bolivia. Where can we buy it? From La Quaica, NO. From Villazon, NO. On the Internet. NO. So we need it but we can't get it? So what do you want us to do?

He motions for Skill to step inside the office and quickly intimates if he slips Sesenta US, $60.00 US inside the passport, then 'No problemo'. Skill declines and the amount drops to $50.00 US, then to $40.00 US in quick succession. Skill comes out to the bike to talk to me as I am trying to get the camera out to take this joker's photo and tells me that apparently $40.00 US will make the problem go away. 'Bull****', I say and walk into the office and smilingly say, 'No, no, no, you are naughty, this money is for you' and point at him. Still smiling and laughing, meanwhile secretly wanting to hit the slimy little git.

Then all of a sudden he waves Skill to the front desk and the bike is stamped in, the problem has gone. Apparently whatever I did seemed to do the trick, wish I knew what it was. Then after a bit of a broken conversation we ask if he has children, 'Si' and we plonk a couple of koalas on his desk. After that everything is fine and as we are repacking the bike, he comes out and jokes with us to 'Hurry up'. Nothing like being bribed with a smile.

Chinese made Aussie Koala 1 - Slimy little Bolivian Customs Guy 0

After this we are extremely wary and get on the bike and ride, not even bothering to get out money in Villazon. At the first checkpoint (a piece of rope across the road) the rope is down, as a mini bus is stopped so we just ride around the bus and wave, no one stops us so we continue on. At the second checkpoint about 40 km further on the rope is down again and we just ignore the guys who are in their hut. (Apparently these guys gave Paul – English guy we met in Salta - a hard time). We arrive in Tupiza after negotiating our way through a landslide on the highway. We find the Hostel Valle Hermosa (recommended by the Copacabana Hostel) easily, but as usual we are on the top floor and have to lug everything up the stairs, it is only 12.30 and we are stuffed, must be the altitude?

Tupiza's claim to fame is its dramatic desert landscape and in the early 20th Century Tupiza was home to one of Bolivia's biggest mining barons, Carlos Aramayo. His mines and their payrolls were rich enough to attract the interest of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, who apparently died in a shoot out in the town of Saint Vincente, 100 km Northwest of Tupiza.

Lunch Stop - Lan with the Llamas, what a magic place

...We head off to refuel, we only need 5 litres, we arrive at the first service station but they refuse to serve us as we are foreigners and they don't have the government receipt books for the foreigner priced fuel, so we head to the next service station that does have the receipt books but they are out of gasolina (it is not a ploy, they really are out of fuel), back to the first service station where a lovely English speaking Argentinian family try to help us and do a big translation for us. To cut a long story short, the manager will not back down for any money, he refuses to sell us fuel and keeps saying camera camera. OK what to do next.

We ride back into town, wave a $50.00 Bolivano note at a taxi driver for 5 litres of fuel. He accepts the challenge, he and Skill disappear in the taxi, go back to the same service station we have just been at. The taxi driver buys 5 litres of fuel in a jerry can and he and Skill return to the bike. Fuel goes into the bike and the taxi driver pockets $30 boliviano profit. It would have cost us 45 Bolivianos at the foreigner price anyway. What a bloody rigamarole."

"Is the HUBB the seed or the fuel? I think that for most of us it's the fuel. We learn of the HUBB's existence once the thirst for information has formed and slake our need at the forum font of textual adventure and possibly the best Q & A sphere on the planet. For me this is no different.

But everyone has their own seed. A sentence or phrase, a chance meeting, a documentary, it comes in a variety of genres. Mine was a chance meeting in Turkey with a couple of German overlanders in 2003. I can't remember their names only that they were riding Africa Twins and that they had journeyed from my own homeland, Australia. At that time, I was riding around Europe and Turkey by bicycle doing 3 month stints at a time. The concept of one continuous trail from A to B by motorbike seemed amazing to my 27 year old mind. The seed had been sown. But, as many on this forum would attest to, this seed needs nurturing and time, maybe this is what baffled my younger self!

Skip forward to today, ten years, 10kgs and baldness later and here I sit, joyfully about to reap the fruit of that seed sown so long ago. The plan is to ride from my home that I just sold in Cairns down to Brisbane. Ship the bike to Peru, learn Spanish while travelling for a year in South America before heading up through Central America and into the North. Gently meander towards the east coast before another freighting to Europe. Walk the Camino De Santiago De Compostella, mosey on through France, Germany, Austria, Italy and into the Baltics before once again revisiting Turkey. Hopefully skip across to Egypt, Israel and Jordan before making our way through Iran, some of the Stans, China and through the Karakorum Pass and into Pakistan. Another visit to India then into Kathmandu before the flight to Bangkok where we hope to island hop to East Timor and the final flight home to Oz.

I have sold my house, my business, my car and most of all my belongings apart from the sentimental stuff, lets see how far this can take us? And I say us as my wife has decided to join me for this adventure. It was either that or get a divorce, there's no way she would let me go without her! So, to be honest, it's our adventure but with me doing the piloting! By the way, her name is Carlie!

Getting our yellow fever shots, don't worry, it was cleaner inside!

... I had the bike booked in to be crated up for its journey across the Pacific but from the moment of meeting this filthy creature in charge of this most important of tasks my heart sank. And I knew it was too late to change. Rather than accepting my offer to assist and pull the bike apart he demanded that he be left to do it, saying that there was no need to remove the front wheel or even the panniers. What? With no option but to leave my beloved motor with him I knew that the shipping agent would have a field day with this!

The bike was booked on a 48 day voyage from Brisbane, Australia, to Callao, Peru with the sailing date for the 18th Feb. Emails and phone calls to the agent to ensure that things were running smoothly put my mind to rest. That is until the 19th when the agent calls to tell me that it missed the boat. My second 'What?' moment. Excuse making aside I really couldn't believe that this had occurred. I was due to fly out the next day, all these bookings had been premeditated and paid for.

OK, so now my guy tells me that it will be on another boat now heading via Singapore and Busan, Korea and should arrive only 2 weeks later than planned. Skip forward to today, now 60 days past the original date of departure and I have just been informed it will be another 3 weeks.

We should be on our bike by now, getting the adventure underway. It's hard not to get angry at the shipping agent but I have been misled by him now on more than one occasion and now he is threatening to withhold the bike in Peruvian customs. I read other reports of folks saying how great their shipping process was and can't help feeling resentment that I picked a lemon!

But I have a favourite saying, 'I have the patience of Gandhi, the optimism of the Dali Lama and the bank balance of Mother Theresa'. I try to live this rather than just jest with it! And so, to fill in the time we have been living in Arequipa for the last 8 weeks in a Spanish language school. Whether or not I can speak the lingo or simply murder it with a level of finesse I will reserve judgement on. We also took the opportunity to visit the local Colca Canyon, an incredibly amazing crack in the earth for a 4 day trek.

...Finally, after more than 90 days and continual misrepresentations and frustrations later, our bike arrived. The crating performed by the agent's guy in Australia was abysmal. I paid 450 valuable dollars and was able to pull it apart by hand. It only had two sides, was open at the top and seriously, held together with clingflim, it was industrial type however! My pride and joy arrived filthy dirty with bags of belongings just thrown in haphazardly.

The Peruvian customs was a 4 day nightmare but the karmic gods kicked in with the good stuff and smoothed over the warehouse procedure by providing me with a lovely young lass with perfect English, spare time and a staff pass that jumped all the queues!

Released from bondage and it was time to wrestle with the traffic that I had been a passenger to for the last 3 months. Let it be said that the Peruvian driving technique is a blend of bumper cars, telepathy and blind faith. Here we go, into 6pm nighttime peak hour traffic into the centre of Lima from the very dodgy port suburb of Callao to our hotel. I needn't have worried, the 12 kms were almost bumper to bumper, horns blaring, exhausts exhausting. I didn't have a crash nor even get lost, I might have gotten lung cancer though!

Next day we pulled all our belongings apart and for the very first and very exciting time packed the bike for her truly maiden voyage right in the courtyard of our hotel of course. Then program the GPS while muttering a short prayer to the gods of satellites and out into the world we headed."

"We'd learned early on about riding a really pretty section of road, called the 'Serra do Rio do Rasto'. or SC-438. So we didn't waste our travel to Florianopolis as this road was a treat in itself! And we can ride straight on from there to the Foz do Iguazu (Iguazu Falls).

How pretty is this?

At the top of this road is a look out.. with some very furry friends!

Border crossing to Paraguay

Check out the curl they put in the motorcycle lane. Easy on the little bikes, but a little harder for us! This is what the border from Brazil to Paraguay looks like. Can't wait until tomorrow! Not. ;-(

This being our second visit, we wandered on to the walking trails a bit. Lots more falls to see, but what I really enjoyed more I didn't expect... butterflies! Lazy ones too, they're hitching a ride on me!

Trying to not forget I'm here to see the falls.. I'm not sure now which I'm loving more!

We really should go... one last look at Iguazu Falls. This place has become one of my favorite highlights of my entire world tour."

"The road north up the coast to Hua Hin was pretty similar to the highway the day before, busy, with many drivers going too fast for highway conditions. We came across a truck overturned on the road, and how it happened I have no idea.

But, we made it to Hua Hin unscathed. The city was a busy place, chock-a-block with tourists and locals, tuk tuks and taxis. A huge portrait of the king greeted us on almost every street corner. The royals have been coming here for years, building summer palaces at the edge of the ocean. We rode like the locals, or at least like the scooter-riding locals, splitting lanes and heading right to the front of the pack of vehicles at stop lights. There was a countdown timer on the traffic lights: 3,2,1, go. The result was reminiscent of the start of a MotoGP race, but we usually won, having muscled our way into pole position.

The hotel staff greeted us with a cool beverage and cold, jasmine-scented towel, always a welcome sight for dusty motorcyclists. A long, very cold swimming pool awaited us.

...At the Thai passport control office, we asked if we could take our bikes over to Burma. No. Then, the border official noticed that our visas in our passports had expired the day before. Really? The fine was 500 baht ($17) each. I tried very hard to argue our way out of it, of about how they should have given us a 30 day visa at the Malaysian border, how our motorcycles were valid for 30 days, but no luck. We paid the 1000 baht. The official also explained that for every day our visas were invalid, we would have had to pay the 500 baht. Good thing Ekke noticed the expiry date when he did. We had visions of leaving Thailand in two weeks with 14 000 baht ($484) worth of fines for invalid visas. Phew. We did check our guidebook later for what the rules are for land border crossings. While issuing 30 day visas at Thai international airports, they do just issue 15 day visas at land border crossings. Never assume that if your bikes can stay in the country for 30 days that you can, too."

"It was that day when I left Semnan to drive through the Dasht-e Kavir desert.

...There is basically only one road that goes through the desert, but 3 roads lead to the beginning of that road.

Looking at this picture I think it makes sense that I decided to take the shortest one.

After riding about 40km with nothing but desert around me I reached a checkpoint. I didn't think of anything bad, so I just asked the guy if I could pass. He looked a bit surprised and asked me to write down my name and sit in his little hut. I should wait he said. After about an hour someone who looked important but couldn't speak english came by, a few phone calls and about 30 min later someone with fair english came to ask me some basic questions, who am I, where do I go, where do I come from...

...a bit later I got an escort back to Semnan (I was not happy about that but did not really understand what was going on yet). After getting carried to many different police/military buildings around Semnan, meeting different people that got more and more unfriendly, telling my story all over again, it appeared to me that I'm in some kind of trouble. Yes I was, in the last place they brought me to (I call it the interrogation station), people got really unfriendly, all my electronics got confiscated and I had a 3 hour interrogation with 2 guys from the secret service (at least I believe they were). This was NOT nice, I got asked about every photo on my camera, 'where is this', 'who is this, name!', 'Why did you take this road?''. I told them what they wanted to know (except for other persons names), 10 times, 1 time was apparently not enough, and my answer 'This is the obvious road to take if I want to go through the desert!'' seemed not to be understood.

At some point, when I was explaining my planned route, they asked me for my Pakistan Visa. Right, that is a valid question as I should have one. And I had one, but it was in my second German Passport (under certain circumstances it's possible to get a second valid passport in Germany). The situation was tense already, I really didn't want to show them that I have a second passport. But what should I do, so I showed them. One guy freaked out completely, took my second passport and threw it into the corner of the room. He was angry, he said he has never seen such a thing before. After a bit more 'talking' he said he is gonna call my embassy and left. After some time someone came to bring me my electronics, but not that I could take them back, I should put them into a locker. I really thought I'm going to jail now, but luckily another hour later someone told me I'm free to go, and hell yeah I left as fast as I could.

The whole thing took about 8 hours! I forgot to turn on my GPS when I left, that's why there is no GPS track of the road to Damghan.

After checking a bit on the internet it seems like this road leads to one of the most sensitive military zones in Iran, where they have aerospace programs and long range missile tests. Also I've not been the first who blundered into this. The German embassy issued a warning about exactly that road and I found another motorbike traveller blogging about this. If they would put a simple sign on the beginning of this road nobody would take it, but there is none.

...2 Days later in Yazd i was just writing about the incident in Semnan, a staff of the hotel pointed at me, two well dressed guys standing next to her. Hello again. All my electronics got confiscated. This time they were quite friendly and explained me 'you went through the desert, it's illegal to take pictures of the desert, we have to check everything'. They said this has nothing to do with what happened 2 days earlier. So after all, this was not so bad, I just had to stay longer as planned and all my storages (MMC's, USB's, HDD's...) got infected with viruses. But I'm a programmer, so not a big deal for me.

From here on I didn't get into problem with the police anymore, so I could fully enjoy beautiful magical Persia."

"After falling asleep in the sun, we return to the cool stone of the cabin where we discover that the internet is only reachable on the toilet! Setting up an office in the loo provides some giddy laughs and plenty of adolescent jokes but, to be honest, the set-up is pretty comfortable. We send a note to Giorgio mostly out of humour but a little while later he arrives at our home with a new router which allows us to work in places other than the bathroom – but not before we get some pictures of the mobile office.

...eventually we make it into the town and really, we could have walked – though it's all up a steep hill and since we're planning on a day in the Valle dei Templi tomorrow we're both saving our legs. The city is beautiful and, off the beaten track, are a few cafés with amazing views of the valley below. The condition of the Temple of Concordia is amazing even from this distance and provides a wonderful insight into what the views from this point would have looked like in 440 BC(!).

Modern-day Agrigento is a beautifully vibrant city. The streets are filled with people of all ages, street vendors and fantastic architecture. We're starting to see the mix of cultures that people had told us about along the way – African influences on dress and food, stirred into a pot of Sicilian roots, ancient Greek struggles and Carthaginian rule. It's fantastic.

...On the last leg of our walk back to the hotel we find a motorcycle shop right by our hotel and are fortunate enough to meet two couples who are planning a ride to Tunisia after us. They've been a few times before and their excitement about the upcoming adventure helps ease our nerves. In fact, by the time we're done talking with them all we feel is excitement. People sharing stories and their love for travel can have a powerful effect on those willing to listen."

"Seriously, if you're planning a trip around this region at least double the amount of time you have already given yourself for Colombia. You will not regret it. The one morning we did manage to wake without too much of a painful hangover, Senorita Leyenda insisted that we visited Guantape, a unique rock formation offering some incredible views.

...The hostels in Central and South America have always been good enough to find a safe place for us to park the bikes during our stay. Our hostel in Medellín was no exception and we rode the bikes in to the locked compound and parked the bikes up on the football court out the back. Despite believing that everything was fully secure, every single tool that we owned was stolen off the back of Jon's bike during our first night's stay.

It was a gutting moment when we discovered what had happened but despite there being a sign up stating that the hostel will not be responsible for any stolen goods, the Irish owner of the hostel was genuinely disappointed when he realised this had taken place from within his own hostel. He insisted that he took us out the following day and replaced absolutely everything that had been taken. He also refused to charge us for the nights we spent in his hostel. A very kind gesture that will never be forgotten.

...Reluctant to cross the border late in the afternoon, we'd agreed to aim for a town called Pasto that day and cross at first light the following morning. We'd been having a decent day. The traffic was much lighter than the previous day and the road provided some excellent views.

We were no more than 80km short of our destination when the afternoon took a nasty turn and I had a high-speed off. I can't be sure what happened during the moments before it occurred, perhaps my mind had slipped back to the girls of Medellín as it had done so many times previously that day but I found myself in a deep water ditch on the side of the road at around 60 or 70mph. As I was just about feeling like I had re-gained control again, I hit a huge concrete block which sent me and the bike flying. It was the only concrete block in sight so it was an unfortunate place for me to find myself wrestling with the ditch. It was a big old drop on the right hand side so thankfully the barrier stopped me from going any further."

"...we decided to go Coast to Coast and rode over to the Locks at Gatun lake and then on to the ruins of the Spanish Fortress at San Lorenzo. After a long somewhat rainy drive we arrived at the Gatun locks when a large tanker was in transit. We sat along the shore and had a lunch break while the tugs guided several ships to the canal locks. What is really cool here is once the doors are closed and the vessel is raised in the lock you can drive across the canal towards the Atlantic."

"We experienced a major culture shock, when we arrived at the airport in Bangkok. After several months in third-world-countries we had the feeling that somebody had transported us right into the future. We sat in the taxi on the way from the airport to our friend Joerg's house in the city, and couldn't believe what we saw. With open mouths we sat there gaping at the skyscrapers, the illuminations, and the well-regulated traffic. All cars had doors, and even air conditioning. The next morning, when we visited the supermarket, we were completely lost – a whole aisle only for muesli, one for wine, chocolate, cheese, and so on. This selection was unbelievable!

Temples at Watarun

Beach in southern Thailand

...Somehow we weren't very lucky with our motorcycles during our time in Thailand and the neighbouring countries. We had several problems and Filippo's 1150 had to return to Bangkok on a pick-up truck twice. One time, it was because of a broken Wilbers shock in Burma, and the other time the rear wheel bearing broke on the way back from Cambodia.

Not the way you want to travel!

Also Heike's 650 now caused problems for the first time: the steering head bearings had to be replaced, and the water pump stopped working. Well, that's the price you have to pay after so many kilometres..."

"As I neared Istanbul I caught my first glimpse of the Sea of Marmara – the large body of water that links the Black Sea and the Aegean Sea. The Sea of Marmara has been the scene of some of the greatest naval battles in the entire history of human civilisation; Greeks against Persians, European crusaders against Byzantines, Ottoman Turks against anybody that came close for 500 years. It is a living textbook of history.

At the north-eastern end of the Sea of Marmara is the Bosphorus Strait that divides the old European part of Istanbul from the modern Asian part. The two parts were only linked for the first time in 1973 by the original Bogazici (Bosphorus) Bridge and then again in 1988 by the Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge.

Bogazici Bridge over the Bosphorus – Europe on the left, Asia on the right!

In an email my contact at IBMIK, Mehmet, had advised me against taking either bridge due to the nightmare traffic and suggested that I take one of the many ferries plying the crossing. But I decided against taking Mehmet's advice for a couple of reasons. Firstly, ferries involve timetables (which I dislike) and waiting around (which I dislike even more). Secondly, but more importantly, this would be a defining moment in my trip – leaving Asia and entering Europe. And I was determined to do it on two wheels NOT on a ferry."

"Back in Europe, we were feeling a little deflated, but that soon changed once we saw Robbie and Roxane – we chatted about our joint ventures back in Argentina, their new ventures, and our plans. Roxane performed duties as tour guide around Brussels, and by jove, what a sight! Having spent 18 months travelling between modern cities, mud huts, deprived concrete slums and old Spanish colonial, the European Medieval suddenly emerged in all its glory. The ornate carvings, stained glass windows, gold leaf over everything and twiddly little spires just oozed European opulence!

And of course we had the coffee shops, chocolate shops and the infamous mussels-and-chips with a good ol' Belgian beer!

Leaving Brussels, we then moved onto Gent where we met one of great travelling partners, Pete, formerly known as big Pete on the tiny 125 Honda. With Pete we had shared the ruins of Machu Picchu, mountain passes in the valley of the Incas, surfing in Huanchaco, ancient civilisations in Kuelap, waterfalls, insane river crossings, the driving rain and the stifling heat, as well as sharing a room for almost a month! Now, back in Belgium, Pete offered us his bed while he tried to stretch out on the sofa.

Gent store house

In our last few days while waiting for the bikes, Pete was a star. He took us on a guided tour of Bruges and amazingly knew a huge amount of its history, (knowledge retained from school trips apparently!), as well as showing us the delight of Gent's Irish Pub interior, although that was at the request of Chris who needed to watch the Six Nations."

"The Todra Gorge - When it got time to head north again towards the Atlas mountain we had the option to visit the Dades or the Todra gorge. But due to the delay caused by my bike breakdown we choose the Todra gorge.

Thursday evenings are always busy in Moroccan towns, Friday is their day of rest (like Sunday in Europe) and most men head to the mosque for their evening prayer.

The roads in Tinghir were crowded and we just got to an ATM and then out of town towards the gorge. It gets dark very quickly in North Africa, time is 2 hours behind Ireland.

So we decided to head for the nearest hotel we found on the sat nav we saw the very inviting Kasba Amazir, right beside the Todra river. An oasis of peace, with a lush garden, pool and as usual they served the traditional very delicious evening meal.

It was time to check the bikes and the hotel manager came out for a chat, people are very relaxed in this part of Morocco. They also share all the tasks in the Kasba hotels, many of them have only a few rooms and not a lot of staff. Cooking, serving food and cleaning is all done mostly by men, woman work mainly in the background and not directly with the guests.

... finally ready we drove in to the Todra gorge and the narrow road was busy with cars, buses and 4x4s. The shallow river attracts not only visitors but also the local woman who come there to wash their clothes and carpets in the water."

"Fuentes Georginas is a neat hot pool centre sitting at about 2800 metres up in the cloud and fog line.

Time to break out the moto and take a 16 km ride, out of town was hard work as most centros are but once out of town and up to the access road that was as wide as one car in places it was neat fun.

Road to hot springs

The hot pools (Aqua Caliente) are in an amazing setting, the first pool at the top is a little too hot to start with and you have to get in quietly and can only stay in for a short while.

The next pool down is very comfy and can turn you into a prune cos you realize how long you have been sitting in there, then there is a kids pool which is shallow.

Wednesday night we were treated to a lightning storm, we were about 15 minutes late back to the casa to catch the storm on top of Xela but it did provide some neat backdrops again the mountains. Muy bonito (very beautiful)."

"Arthur's Pass is the main route over New Zealand's Southern Alps between Christchurch on the east coast and Greymouth in the west. The road rises to an altitude of 920 metres (3000 feet) before dropping into Arthur's Pass Village then back to sea level on the west coast.

I left Christchurch having plotted a route that took in two gravel road detours and with no particular destination in mind for somewhere to stay that night headed for the hills. Accommodation is easily found, for me that means a campsite or occasionally a hostel. The route out of Christchurch was interrupted by a number of diversions around closed roads that were being repaired following the earthquakes in 2010 and 2011. The severe structural damage to Christchurch looks like it will take many more years to repair.

...Approaching the end of my trip around New Zealand I started looking into selling the Honda CBR 250R motorcycle I had bought in Auckland three months earlier. The first place I tried was the Honda dealer in Invercargill but discovered that there was very little demand for road bikes in the area. The dealer estimated that 90% of their turnover was in motorbikes and quad bikes for farm use, another 6% was for motocross bikes, leaving a mere 4% of bikes sold for the road. The dealer recommended that I tried selling the bike somewhere 'further north', advice I couldn't help but follow as there was nowhere further south in New Zealand to go!

Burt Munro's Shed Interior With His 'Offerings To The God Of Speed', His Collection Of Blown Engine Parts

...Baldwin Street in Dunedin claims to be the steepest residential street in the world. With an average slope of over 1:5 and a scary 1:2.86 on the steepest section it does look pretty awesome. Before I got there I thought I would potter up in first gear but once I saw the hill I wasn't sure the engine would have enough torque so I took a hard run at it in third. The street ends at a tee junction and there isn't much space for braking once you get to the top. I overtook the postman on the way up who was walking up carrying his bag of mail. Does he have to do that every day? If so I guess the round keeps him fit."

"On the second day of travel, most of the passengers emerged from the hold of the ship feeling human again. We were landlubbers no more, and greedily shoveled down the hearty Stahlratte breakfast laid out on the top deck. For some of us, it was the first real meal we ate in over 24 hours!

Our newfound sea legs were not going to be put to use, as the skyline of Cartagena emerged on the horizon in the early afternoon. South America beckoned to us! For most of the passengers it was the first time on this continent. The Stahlratte anchored down a few hundred meters away from the shores of Manga Island, where the Aduana offices were located. Because it was expensive to rent a commercial pier to off load the bikes, we used a small public pier and dinghied the bikes to shore. It was a wild process to get the bikes on land and it's a testament to the crew's experience that we timed the off load to coincide with high tide as you can see in the video.

...After a few days in Cartagena, the Stahlratte Motorcycle Club decided to split ways. One group was heading to the north to the beaches of Santa Marta, while another was headed south to Medellín. We rode with them out of the city, 8 adventure bikes zipping in and out of Colombian traffic, the Caribbean Sea blowing warm air on our already hot and humid group ride."

"Jeffrey Polnaja spoke to a crowd of about 100 Canadian motorcyclists at the most recent 'Horizons Unlimited Adventure Evening' held at the Holeshot Motorsport in Langley, BC. Jeffrey reveals the journey of Ride for Peace (RFP) is being lived today.

On the occasion, Jeffrey was the only adventurer rider from Asia who has appeared on the show. 'It's good to have an end to journey toward, but it is the journey that matters in the end,' said the man who is familiarly called Kang JJ."

"Yesterday I crossed German border. This country welcomed me with wind, rain, hail and storm! Not bad. And in the evening I couldn't find accommodation. All hostels were booked. I was tired, exhausted and wet. For the first time I've had enough of riding. No! I was fed up with it! But thanks to one lady I found a warm bed in another city.

Next day I wake up at dawn, according to the rules of the pilgrims house... I jump on a motorcycle at 9:00. Before starting the engine I looked at the sky and I asked myself would it be gracious to me today? I decide to take a chance and I didn't put on a rain suit and shoe protectors.

As soon as I go out from the hostel I saw dark clouds ahead and my comment was brief: 'oh shit Shogun... again!?' Fortunately after a while GPS showed me the road into the sun, which shone only for the first 30km then I begun to struggle with temperature, which was 5C (as it seems to me, 'in the sun', which have been overshadowed by the clouds... wet asphalt, moisture in the woods that I passed made it feel like I rode in the frost.)

After every 60km I tried to make a short stop at a petrol station, to drink something hot. At some point after 90km (losing hope for the station) I stopped in shares of desperation at the roadside bar I asked for tea, lady nods in the negative way, but then she proposed: 'maybe soup?'. I chose goulash, as this looked the most 'human' dish in this place... just to warm up.

And so from stop to stop I reached Berlin! When I saw in a front of me the Brandenburg Gate on my face again appeared a smile, because I recall why I decided to make this trip... not for an 'exclusive' all-inclusive vacation with 'guaranteed' weather."

"...Before reaching Buenos Aires we spent two nights in random but interesting places. First one, a resort by the Atlantic Ocean (I always loved the resorts off season) with colored buildings and interesting messages.

The other one was Azul, a small city 300 kilometers away from Buenos Aires, in a place called 'La Posta de viajero'. People there own motorcycles and are passionate about motorcycle travel so they decided to offer a place to camp for the other travelers. And now it's not just a place to camp in a yard full of rabbits. It is so much more.

You find good advice, someone to listen, tools if you need to make any repairs and there is a big chance to meet other fellow travelers. There is no price list or bookings, everything is based on donations. There is a box where you leave as much as you want if you want and if you can. Jorge, the owner, convinced us to stay one more day, what was the hurry anyway? Why hurry to get to a big city when you can camp and get visitors like this!"

"After 1 year and 7 months, some 578 days and 27,134 miles/43,414 km I have reached my final destination: the southernmost tip of Argentina in Tierra del Fuego.

...Though without doubt the biggest decision I have faced on the trip was to undertake the trip itself – to give up my position of comfort to pursue something of unknown consequence, but throughout my trip I have felt the guidance of something greater and this has been borne out in sympathy with the famous quote attributed to Goethe:

'The moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do or dream, you can begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.'"

"After a couple of days in Houston, it was time to hit the road once again for my final ride to my home in Austin. I decided to not take the most direct route along the interstate highway, but instead opted to take the alternate route that would take me along some of the back roads through central Texas. I headed down highway 90.

And yes, we have oil in Texas. This oil pump just happened to be decorated as a see saw with kids on top.

...Finally I arrived at my home in Austin, Texas.

27,549.6 miles or 44,336.8 km... 14 months... 16 countries... 3 continents... what an adventure!"

"I'm on a break. After a gruelling 14-hour day, I arrived to my parents' apartment in Buenos Aires and I've been resting ever since, gathering energies for the next part of my voyage: riding all the way to North America (voluntary vagueness here, don't know if I'll end in Southern Mexico or in Eastern Canada)."

"Vagabond architects@TEDxBucharest 2012 - 18 emotional minutes and 3 stories from our journey around Africa. Cheers for watching and sharing that with others who might find inspiration in this for their own projects.

Note from Ana: up on the stage, blinded by the lights, I lost contact with the audience and froze a little. Normally I am not as bitchy and arrogant as in this video, sorry people, I had stage fright :) Talking about how fear? should not stop us pursue our objectives was liberating..."