December 11, 1997 Quito, Ecuador - {Hotel Belmont} I woke up at 6:20am this morning and packed for my hike up volcano Corazon 4788 meters (15800 feet). It's an old dormant (extinct?) volcano that's peak usually doesn't have snow since it's just under snow line. Sharon, who likes to hike, but not completely wipe herself out climbing high mountains stayed back and slept in. She planned to read Moll Flanders, one of the books we downloaded. The bike was parked about 15 minutes away. On the way there, I stopped in a bakery and picked up some sweet bread and orange juice drink for breakfast. The volcano is about 40km drive South of Quito. I made a couple wrong turns trying to get on the correct highway out of Quito. I drove back through Sangolqui, and then South to the town of Aloasi which is situated at the base of volcano Corazon. The information I had was that one could drive right up to within a two hour hike to the top which is what I attempted to do. Unfortunately, there are no signs. I drove about as far as I thought I should on the road I had chosen which took me to 10,800 feet, 5,000 feet from the summit. I parked the bike off to the side, and locked the rear wheel with the D-lock. The first 1,000 feet where bad. The path I had chosen which went straight up the volcano quickly disappeared into nothing but scrub and shrub. It was not possible to walk through some of the dense bushes, and so I walked around picking my way through sometime passing some tough thorny plants. While I was entangled in some bushes, about 100 meters up the mountain, I spotted a floating head moving quickly across. Before it went out of sight I made note of a reference point the head went by and climbed for that. I figured there must be a path. There was, and boy was it easier. It led to the path that could be driven most of the way up the mountain. At 4,000 meters (13,200 feet) the altimeter in the Casio watch max'd out, and I continued measuring altitude by GPS which isn't as accurate, but max's out at nearly geo-stationary orbital altitudes. It was incredibly quiet up there with the only sound I heard being an occasional breeze, my heart beating, and a slight ringing in my ears. Near the top there is a saddle ridge. On this saddle, one can see a cliff wall falling on the West side. The wind coming over the East face creates an invisible barrier that holds the moving clouds below such that it was impossible to see the bottom of the west side. It was possible to walk up to the cloud barrier, but a step further into it would result in a drop into the abyss. I started to climb the last face slowly as the altitude was really affecting me. I was resting for about 30 seconds after every 2 minutes of climbing, and taking small steps. I was having a hard time imagining continuously lifting my feet high enough to use crampons at this point. I climbed the last cliff face which was mostly scree covered. I was regretting getting such a late start as clouds were rapidly rolling in from the East in which direction the wind had picked up from. It was now 2:15pm. In the South and East I could hear thunder rolling about about once a minute. I pulled out the GPS and read 4660 meters (15378 feet) at which point I decided would not be a good altitude in a thunderstorm. Rather than hike the additional 120 meters which probably would have taken 20-30 minutes I turned around and headed down as quickly as possible distancing myself from the thunder clouds. On the way down I met John from South Carolina, who had just flown in two days before. He had come prepared for hiking with the intention of climbing the mountains. The following day I found him at our new hotel. The other day when we visited the South American Explorers Club, they told us of another motorcycle traveller couple who had stopped by the day before. I left a note for them to stop by and visit. While I was out hiking, they stopped by and talked to Sharon for a couple of hours. Jim Garriock and Mel White had been travelling a similar route leaving within a week of our departure date. Both are from Melbourne, Australia. Jim had flown to West Virginia, USA, where he bought a 1989 Honda TransAlp that he had found out about on the internet. From West Virginia, he drove it up to the Arctic Circle in Alaska, and then to California where his girlfriend from home joined him. They then drove down a similar route through Central America skipping the Yucatan and Belize. The end of the trip for Mel is in Quito where she then flies to the UK where her parents are living now, and she hopes to continue working as a speech pathologist. Jim's plans are to drive his TransAlp to Southern Chili, take a trip with his mother and aunt to the Antarctic, and then continue his trip up to Buenos Aires and then over to Bolivia. After Mel flew back, we continued travelling with Jim for the next three and a half weeks until just before Lima, Peru. December 12-15, 1997 Quito, Ecuador - {La Casona de Mario} Jim and Mel had suggested that we check out the place where they stayed for about the same money including parking. That morning, we did. Very nice place. 6 months before, an Argentinian, Mario, and a German woman bought this place and turned it into a nice guest house. One of the best features being the kitchen where we could cook our own meals making foods we craved. The next couple mornings we made crepes filled with banana fried in sugar and butter, another morning we made french toast. One evening, Sharon made a wonderfully spicy meat spaghetti made with meat we weren't afraid to eat. We made nachos which believe it or not are not so easy to find. The SuperMaxi grocery stores in Quito are as big and well stocked as any in the US. From their 20+ kinds of cheese, we got a bit excited, and picked up four 1/2 lbs cheeses (parmesan, lemon pepper jack, mozzarella, and cheddar). The hotel had a nice central area for talking with other travellers, which is one the nicest appeals. It's an old spanish colonial influenced two story house with wood floors, and tastefully decorated. We looked for tires Saturday and Monday to the point where I felt confident of having checked all possible places for quality tires. An owner of a car tire dealership explained to us that here quality tires don't sell. A couple years ago, he imported 600 high quality car tires to sell, and had a difficult time getting rid of them over several years. He said he wouldn't do it again. [Skip the following if you're not interested in buying tires or motorcycle parts in Quito] The tires on the R80G/S are common. The front and rear tube tires are common. The R100GS has a common size front wheel, but it requires a tubeless tire which is harder to find. The rear wheel for the R100GS has a 17" wheel and is tubeless both qualities of which are more uncommon. In this capital city of 1.2 million the quality tire choices are limited. Brazilian made Pirellis are the most common, however their not as wide a variety as in Costa Rica, but at about half the cost. Occasionally a single Dunlop or a Bridgestone may be in stock. And at one place I did run across a single Metzler Sahara 2 which is the stock tire for the R80G/S. For future motorcycle travellers, the best place is Clinica de Motos with a selection of Pirellis and various parts for jap bikes. They only stock some Brazilian Pirellis. They didn't have nor could get the German made Pirellis. They could get Bridgestone if requested. Osaka Motors carries Cheng Shin Taiwanese tires. The also had a BMW R100GS for sale there with a Bob's BMW (from Alabama) sticker on it. I thought it was interest to see how it had Avon Gripster tires on it, the most popular choice of North Americans on the BMW-GS internet mail list. Osaka was selling it for US$6,000. There are two BMW motorcycle parts dealers. One is Euro Servicio, and the other the BMW car dealer "Alvarez Barba". Although prices where cheaper than Central America, neither was stocked with anything much more than an oil filter. Moto Partes is on the far South end of town. They carry parts for small jap bikes. They do carry Thai made VeeRubber tires for larger bikes. Clinica de Motos: Luis Cordero 2235 y Av 10 de Agusto, Quito;Tel 505968 Osaka Motors: 10 de Agusto y Carlina Moto Partes: Av Alonso de Angulo 1030 y Cesar Chiribog Tel 660453 Euro-Servicio: Av Los Shyris y Rio Coca. Tel 454-261 Albarez Barba(BMW dealer): Panamericano Norte y no 10 de Agosto Bought a Pirelli MT75, a street tire for the rear of the R100GS. The cost was December 16, 1997 Banos, Ecuador - {Hotel Magdelina} R80G/S 32623 R100GS 22576 Ate some Guayaba ...looks like a giant 2-3 foot woody pea pod. Inside it has a black lima bean shaped seeds that are surrounded in a soft white almost moist cotton type of fruit with a subtle slightly sweetness. Drove to Banos, Banos is a pretty touristy town inset with mountains surrounding every side. It's named after the hot baths from geo thermally heated water. We were sitting at an outdoor cafe eating a late afternoon lunch when I spotted in a art gallery window across the street, hand crafted metal statues of the Inca demon Uma that I we had purchased in Otavalo. They were made by the same artist. While waiting for our food at our outdoor table, I crossed the street to check them out while Sharon stayed at our table. As I was looking in the window with my back facing the street, I all of a sudden heard running steps, and a hysterical woman run up from behind me with a look of terror. Her hands went on my hips as she attempted to put me between her and who she was running away from, which turned out to be some slow walking man down the street. My senses went immediately to my pockets. I instinctively pushed her away separating her from me as quickly as possible, and then immediately ducked into the store to get off the street away from what I perceived as a pick pocket attempt. The sensation of her touching my hips reverberated in my mind until I was sure I distinctly remember I didn't feel her come near my front pockets. By the time I popped my head out of the store, her and the guy that was following her were long gone with no signs of either. A local that was sitting on a bench on the street smiled at me as if to say, "Good move". I seemed to have a lot of attention on me at the moment. Sharon had seen the whole incident, and had yelled out my name from across the street to warn me as I was approached. That and the crazed screaming woman had caught peoples attention. Sharon said that the woman quietly ran up to me, and then once she got near ran much louder and started screaming. Banos is a tourist town for locals and foreigners, and so an excellent place for pick pockets. Although I was alone standing with my back to the street, she must have been an adlibber pickpocket. Any thief looking at my dress could see that I'm not an easy person to attempt a heist on. Three of my five pockets are buttoned, and the two front ones that are not, are deep (12") well cargo pockets making it extremely difficult to lift anything without me noticing. She was going after my rear pockets which were both buttoned, and not where I keep my wallet. My wallet doesn't carry more than a couple days of local currency, and so wouldn't be much loss if it was lost. Banos was having their annual Banos festival that night with live music being played in the corner of the central square. Sharon slept during the festivities while Jim and I checked out the town. We drank some hot drink that was mixed with tequila upon ordering. I don't know what it was called, nor did I care for it, However Jim enjoyed it. December 17, 1997 Banos, Ecuador - {Hotel Magdelina} ? December 18, 1997 Banos Ecuador When we arrived in Banos two days ago and I stayed and watched the bikes while Sharon and Jim went off in separate directions looking for hotels, as usual the a several locals came up asking about our travels and the bikes. The recommended driving out to the town of Puyo which is about 60km East through the mountain pass called the Cordillera de Los Llanganates. These mountains separate the continental divide. The Pastasa river which this road follows from Banos to Puyo flows into the Amazon and eventually crosses the continent to the Atlantic ocean. Our guide book says this is one of best vies of the Amazon basin. For the last couple years this road has only been open from Sunday at 5:00pm until Tuesday at 8:00am due to construction. However, only recently it's now open everyday. While Puyo itself isn't much of a destination, we headed that way for the scenery. Jim road his Transalp while we drove out on the R80G/S with panniers removed. The first 20km of the road was dirt and rock with a little mud, and in places construction still going on. The remaining 40km is nicely paved. The first 20km pass through a tunnel and then by the Agoyan waterfalls. The road follows along the side of a canyon with waterfalls everywhere including one that the road passes under (behind). There were awesome views of the canyon which in a spot or two reminded me of the Three Gorges on the Yangtze river in China. Near the town called Shell, we went through a checkpoint where we had to show our passports both when heading to Puyo and returning. Since Puyo is a launch point for entering the Amazon jungle this is sort of a customs check. We had lunch in Puyo, and then headed back stopping along the way to take more pictures. As we where heading back, Jim's Honda TransAlp started making an occasional loud squeaking noise. We pulled over and checked it out. His rear wheel had too much play, and the outer brake drum was rubbing against the cover, likely due to a collapsed wheel bearing. The next day we took it apart and sure enough, that's what it was. One of his wheel bearings had collapsed likely due to the rough road coming in. He road on it for an addition 40km to Banos. December 19, 1997 Banos, Ecuador - {Hotel Magdelina} There are some nice places to eat in Banos. The last couple of mornings we've been having fresh baked bread and croissants like rolls from Rico Pan with black berry jam, a bowl of fruit salad, yogurt and granola, and Sharon's favorite, a glass of what they call black berry juice which is black berry juice mixed with milk and maybe a little sugar. This morning we went to Cafe Hood which we liked going to for dinner. However the breakfast wasn't anything special. I spent most of the day with Jim getting his wheel bearings taken care of. After he removed his wheel we went to a mechanic who willingly offered to remove the old collapsed wheel bearing. It was thermally friction fitted however these guys attempted to pound it out with out any success. It wasn't until we suggested using a little heat did it come out. They welded a bolt to the bearing which could then be used to push it out with. We had no problem finding a replacement wheel bearing in this small resort town for his bike. Even though there may currently only be two Honda TransAlps in all of Ecuador at this moment, the bearing it used was quite common. We suggested using a little heat on the wheel to which they lit up their oxy-acetylene torch. The wheel bearing dropped right in. At first the local mechanic argued that this was not good, but I think changed his mind after it cooled and was realized it was tightly in there. I don't think he was familiar with the idea of thermal fitting wheel bearings, or expansion/contraction of metal from temperature. I disassembled my rear wheel and cleaned up the gear oil that had leaked out onto the brake shoes. I discovered that the brake cam rod had two O-rings that needed replacing. Unfortunately neither of the two shops that might carry them had the right size in stock. Note: The spanish word for wheel bearing is "ruliman" Dec 20 19987 Canar, Ecuador - {Residencia Monica} R100GS 22695 R80GS 32822 The road from Banos to Chunchi, was beautiful and very nicely paved. The road drove through the mountains with beautiful views of the valleys below. Both men and woman indian farmers in the area all wear black or olive green rimmed felt hats. Almost all are dressed in the traditional dress with a poncho for warmth. We stopped along several points taking pictures of the mountains and valleys all around. We must have passed 200 kids standing on the side of the street today with their extended shaking hats asking for money. A couple had toll ropes which they dropped as we sped by. It was incredible to see so many kids in groups of 3 or 4 waiting by the side of the road for cars to go by and ask for money. They all did it with a big smile. With so many kids doing this, they must get positive reinforcement, however there are few vehicles that pass by here. One time when we stopped, we counted approximately a vehicle every 3 minutes. In Chunchi, we stopped for lunch. After lunch the road deteriorated to a pot hole mess. Fog rolled in as we were still up in the mountains. At first it was beautiful as it rolled over the mountain but didn't touch down to the road we were passing. The mountain side road we were on was clear except above and to the side was covered in fog. It was like passing through a clear tunnel with walls of fog. And then the tunnel caved in. For the next couple of hours we were in thick fog and rain, attempting to navigate around potholes. Visibility got so bad that we could make out people on the side of the road only if they were 25 feet away or closer. We could see oncoming traffic 50 feet away if they had their lights on. Less if they didn't Usually only the busses didn't have their lights on. With poor visibility, bad roads, and rain, we drove about 10-15mph always concerned about on coming traffic appearing out of the fog. I'm sure this drive would be beautiful for someone with X-Ray vision. For us, it was pretty stressful. December 21, 1997 Cuenca, Ecuador - {Hotel Norte} R100GS 22856 R80G/S 33014 In the morning, we had a quick breakfast of bread and croissant with some Smucker's strawberry jam we bought in Costa Rica. Jim, Sharon and I drove over the the pre- Incan ruins called Ingapirca, which the guide books claim as one of the most important remaining Inca ruins still around. Unfortunately, the Incas had a habit of destroying their cities before invaders took over, so there aren't many Incan ruins left. Ingapirca has been cleaned up, but consists of two foot walls of stones where once high domicile walls existed. The main temple still exists in relatively good shape. The interesting thing to note about it is that no mortar is used, and that the carved stone blocks fit perfectly with all the surrounding ones. After seeing so many Mayan ruins in central America, Ingapirca was a disappointment, due to it's size, and how little has survived. Apparently it was only inhabited for 50-100 years approximately 450 years ago. We were on the road by 2:00pm, just as it was starting to sprinkle. The road was rough in parts, and new in others. Several places, the road forks with two equal size roads, with no sign indicating which goes to Cuenca, the third largest city in this country. At one point the road is beautifully paved and wide, but drops off to a ~50 foot drop as the bridge has not been made, nor does it look like it's under construction. Rather than attempting an Evil Kinevil, We did a U-turn and found the unmarked paved detour road. About 5km before Cuenca, we stopped at a large Texaco gas station, so we could figure out where we were going. While Jim and Sharon where working on this, I talked with the gas station manager and an attendant. They asked about the bikes, and I asked about directions into the city. A local walked up to us from the air pump and asked with a sense of urgency for a valve wrench. I pulled out my valve core remover and walked over to his bike. He and his companion where travelling to Guayaquil on there 25+ years old 125cc motorcycles. It was around 4:00, and they planned to be there an hour after dark around 7:00pm. However, they had a bad tire valve. I removed it for them, and re-screwed it in. No luck. They needed a new tire valve, but didn't have one. I gave them one of my spares which worked fine. They asked how much they owed me to which I said "nada", and they were off. While Jim and Sharon where consulting the books for a hotel, Jim's gloves seemed to have disappeared. We spent the next half hour going over where they may have gotten to until it was concluded that they somehow walked off. Unbelievable considering the three of us were standing there, the gas station manager and another attendant where there talking to me. With the managers cooperation, Jim went around looking in possible places to hide his gloves around the gas station thinking that someone might have run off and hid them for later retrieval. However this turned up nothing, and Jim eventually left without his gloves. An opportunistic kleptomaniac had struck. We arrived in Cuenca, and after about an hour and a half, Jim and Sharon returned after having checked out five hotels. The hotel they found was large, nice, clean, and inexpensive for a bit city, and located right on the market. I road the bike through part of the market, and in through the front door, into the lobby and behind the main stairs. In addition to our three bikes, there was already a fourth there. It was a Honda Silver Wing with Mexican plates that looked like it had been outfitted for world travelling. I later found out it belonged to Martin and Doreen from England. 14 months ago, they had bought this bike in Mexico, and drove it South, clockwise around South America, however not making it to Tierra Del Fuego. They had met Greg Frazier a couple weeks ago who had told them that we were heading South. They had met Doug Ruth one night near the great dry salt lake of Bolivia. Martin and Doreen were now slowly heading North to Alaska. Their silver wing which they called the "Bouncing Bomb" looked a bit rough. In Mexico, they had a welder cut the under side of the gas tank, bend out the sides, and reweld it giving them probably an extra gallon or two for a total range of about 200 miles which they said has so far been enough to travel with. The gas tank modification cost him $8, and certainly didn't do much for it's resale value. On the handle bars they have mounted a spare front tire, a gallon of water, spare oil, a relatively large tent, and some scrub sponge pads. Another welder had welded up protection crash bars for the engine heads. They bought the motorcycle off an American in Mexico for $1200, and had to pay the import costs in Mexico which is where they got it titled. This cost them $120. He had chosen a silver wing because he had one back home that he was happy with. He had previously mounted gallon size plastic water jugs around his hand grips which kept his hands warm and dry. He hadn't re-jetted his carburetors for the altitude, but rather removed the air filter since as he put it the problem was due to lack of air. Since he's planning to sell his bike when he's done with his trip, the longevity of his engine is less of an issue. His front tire was bald, but not yet showing canvas so he hadn't changed it. When he told me that they were tubeless, I shared with him our experience of flying off a motorcycle at 35mph in Indonesia when the front tire blew out. Since his motorcycle fits USA specifications, the headlight doesn't turn off. So that he can turn off his head light, he cut one of the lead wires. He now twists the two wires together when he wants it on, and pulls them apart when he wants it off. The switch he had installed broke. Their seat was re-upholstered in Honduras for $8, and looks new and well done. However Martin rides while sitting on a partially inflated inner tube from a scooter wheel, while Doreen sits comfortably on a full size bed pillow. Martin defies the idea that their is a necessary amount of preparation required for a motorcycle trip. He explains that they are travelling through South America due to a lull in conversation. He says, He just spoke out of the blue "How 'bout we go to Sout America? never been der" and soon after they were here. He's one of these people that prove you can just hop on a motorcycle and go. I know many people, that spend ages thinking, planning, and preparing for travel, and never actually go. Martin and Doreen easily adapt, and just take life as it comes. Of course, there's a bit more discomfort one has to be willing to put up with. But over the last 14 months, this hasn't been a problem for them. Martin, Doreen, Jim, Sharon, I, and another traveller we met named Mark had dinner together talking about travel. Mark was an older retired traveller (not by motorcycle) who had taught in Papa New Guinea for 18 years and spoke a similar Pacific language that Jim new from his living on the Soloman Islands for 14 months. Jim was excited since as he said their were probably only 5 million people in the world who could speak or understand this language and they're rare to come by outside of the South West Pacific. Previous to Papa New Guinea, Marcus had taught in Ethiopia for a number of years. He said Ethiopia was a beautiful country with friendly people. We asked Martin and Doreen about travelling further South and heard the roads get much better. They showed us pictures of their travels including a few funny nude shots on their motorcycle in the Chilean desert. Jim was telling a story about a German guy he met (Reiner?) who was travelling with his custom made sidecar and GS. I had seen a recent picture of his vehicle in San Agustin, Colombia. Jim told us a story of how Reiner needed a cotter pin, which another motorcycle traveler named Doug had, but needed to look up on his palmtop computer where it was stored on his bike before he could retrieve it. Another question confirmed this was Doug Ruth, who to Jim and now told by Reiner is known by his parts location inventory list on his palmtop. :-) December 22, 1997 Cuenca, Ecuador - {Hotel Norte} My rear brakes haven't been working since we entered Colombia. They are constantly soaked in transmission oil from the rear drive. In Banos, I removed the rear brake cam only to find out that there are only two little O-Rings that keep the final drive oil from seeping out either side. The brake side is the side I'm most concerned with. The bike is 16 years old, and so having to replace the O-rings seems reasonable. I wasn't able to find any in Banos, but just down the street from our hotel is the car parts area. Something different, but consistent throughout Latin America is the more often than not grouping of all the same store in the same area. car parts stores are often in the same area. Motorcycle shops are often in the same area. Hardware store are grouped together, etc. Of course this isn't always the case, but more often than not it is. While I'm sure this must make some sense in Latin American culture, it's contrary to my thinking of where I would place a business. If I sold almost the same merchandise as several other stores, I would start up my business on the other side of town, rather than right next door where I would be in direct competition with nothing more to offer a customer than my friendly personality :-}. On the other side of town, I think I would pick up business from people who didn't want to travel across town. For a customer, the Latin American way is convenient in that I can price compare against all of the same stores by just walking a block or so. I bought some O-rings in the car parts part of town and installed them in the bike. I had to refill the final drive oil which I did with Castrol 90 weight oil. Later, Sharon and I went to a copy shop which had a color copy machine. We copied the titles of our vehicles, and our drivers license. We had the color copy of our drivers license laminated. Our thinking was that we would hand the copies of these critical documents to officials that would ask for them. If for some reason we had any trouble, and they held the documents, we wouldn't care. Also, having copies could allow us to keep the originals in a better place. Our titles are starting to show some wear from carrying them on our persons with our passport all of the time. Since we planned to head into a remote area tomorrow and were going to stay through Christmas, we visited the telephone office to make some calls to our family. Emetel is the main telephone company which holds a monopoly on international calls. There are several public pay phone companies which each take their own calling card. We walked by one of the largest churches we've seen in Latin America. The outside is made of brick, takes up a half of a large block. Inside, the columns surrounding the alter are covered in either recently applied or recently polished gold which really shows off the brilliance. The huge columns along the aisle are built of select large red marble slabs.... beautiful. Outside of the church in the main park was a larger than life metal crafted nativity set created by the same local artist that made the statues of "the good Inca spirit Uma" we bought in Otavalo. In the art galleries in Ecuador, we found a few paintings and statues we like. Since the cost of living and of labor is so much cheaper here, so is the art work. December 23, 1997 Vilcabamba, Ecuador - {Madre Tierra} At 6:40am, there was a knock on our door. We were already up and were finishing our packing. Martin was standing at our door with a large glass mug of tea with milk already added, and said "Don't suppose you'd care for a bit o tea?" Martin and Doreen had decided to come with Jim, Sharon and I to Vilcabamba for Christmas. We had planned to leave at 7:00am for what was suppose to take around 6 hours of driving. Martin had found time while getting ready to make some tea. British... We rolled all four bikes out of the hotel lobby, out into the market which was just getting started, and were all ready to take off at 7:35am. Navigating out of town by compass and then following the river got us on the road heading South to Vilcabamba which was 250km. Again we drove along beautiful mountain ridges with views of the green valleys below. As we ascended, we entered clouds, and stopped to put on warmer clothes, and rain gear. Road conditions constantly varied from potholed asphalt, hard mud covered, gravel, to recently paved. We had just descended into a canyon, crossed a bridge and were about to climb the other ridge when I saw Sharon look down, and then immediately pull over. The spark plug on the right side had popped out of the engine, hit her on the leg, and was now dangling by the ignition cable which it was still attached to. I think I might have only hand tightened these plugs last time I pulled them out back in Panama. It has been working it's way out from engine vibration during this time. I suppose we should get better gas mileage now. During our ride this morning, I thought about this motorcycle naming thing, since it had come up in conversation several times. Jim has named his 1989 Honda TransAlp "Pedro", after Saint Peter, the saint of travellers and messengers. He affectionately refers to Pedro as his good friend, and whispers whenever he speaks of anything he believes Pedro shouldn't hear. For example, selling Pedro at the end of the trip. Jim claims not to know anything about motorcycle mechanics, or how to do anything other than change a tire or tighten and spray oil on the chain. The only spares he is carrying is a pair of spark plugs, an inner tube for each wheel and a chain. Martin is carrying a very similar set of spare parts, and also claims to know little about repair of his bike which he calls "The Bouncing Bomb". I was thinking of other inter-continental motorcycle travellers I knew, and how many of them also named their motorcycle. Of those that I could think of, four who had named their motorcycle, had also claimed they knew little, if anything regarding motorcycle mechanics. Of four people I could think of that did all of their own repairs, they didn't have a name for their motorcycle. Jim thought it was funny that we didn't have a name for our motorcycles, and jokingly told people that we call one "The White Bike", while the other one was called "The Red Bike". Which is true, except to other BMW motorcyclists, to which we refer to them by their model numbers. Doing a trip through third world countries without knowing how to repair one's motorcycle when it breaks down, in my opinion, is brave and certainly requires optimism. As proven by several people I've met, mechanical knowledge is by no means a requirement for a good inter-continental motorcycle trip. Obviously, there's a great deal more reliance on unknown factors to get the motorcycle fixed. How much time, pain, and money to remedy, remains an unknown until it's fixed. If one is resolved to find a solution and can deal with the difficulties, then mechanical breakdown and lack of understanding how to fix it is not a problem. In the meantime, there is the worrying about what happens if this machine breaks down. Naturally, feeling susceptible to a potential helpless situation is going to create some lack of control anxiety. Of course, control of a breakdown situation doesn't lie in the ability to fix it oneself, but solely in the ability to get it fixed by any means. With the locus of control outside of oneself though, one becomes dependent on the surroundings, and while travelling this is often an unknown. Confidence, that a solution will be found should a break down happen, is necessary. People need hope to survive, One must feel they can make/influence their own destiny, or else have total trust in their fate. I've never met someone, that I know of, who had total trust in their fate, but reading about the Heaven's Gate religious cult, I figure they must have been confident where they were headed. People who are dependent on something they have no control over such as the whims of nature, often personify that quality making it more tangible. Mayan's of the Yucatan are dependent on rain of which they have no control over. They create a god and name it "Chak" who now rain personified is now tangible to plead with. Now rain has an ego that may be appeased by personal sacrifices, or flattered with temples built to it. People will dedicate their lives to building a huge temple just to buy a little hope in thinking that they might be able to influence the rain. Chak exists where people are most dependent on the rain. In India, Chak is called Indra, and likely has a 1,000 other names around the world. Just about every pre-Christian, pre-Judaic culture seems to have it's own pantheon of gods for dealing with nature and day to day things that seem out of the hands of mere mortals. Some people dependent on their motorcycle for travel, personify their motorcycle. Understanding how to interact with humans or animals better than a motorcycle, one treats it as such. Say nice things to it, give it a kiss every morning, and it won't break down. If it does, kick it, for misbehaving. One needs to _believe_ it won't let you down, and the easiest way for a non-mechanic is to build a trust relationship as one might with another human. A precursor is that it be thought of as more than just a machine. Something with ego, personality and needs is much easier to deal with than a black box machine, and thus needs a name. The quickest way to remove the soul from a motorcycle is to take it apart and understand how it works. With a mechanic, the locus of control is inside him. There is no point in pretending that it is anything beyond an engineered hunk of metal that controls the combustion of gasoline and oxygen and converts this expansion of gasses from this combustion into a kinetic momentum perpetuated by two revolving wheels. If the engine stops running, there is no doubt that it's for a reason that can be investigated and hopefully corrected. For a non-mechanic, this personification of the machine may be the best recourse short of learning how it works. Developing a caring relationship similar to that between humans will likely help the person. The machine may get some care necessary to keep it running the way it was intended to. In return, the rider builds the needed hope that the machine won't break down in the middle of nowhere. Of course if the bike becomes unreliable, the relationship falls apart like a house of cards, and the bike gets sold off. .. About 50km North of Loja, the next major city South of Cuenca, we came upon a loosely packed line of busses and cars. As is a well accepted motorcyclists privilege in Latin America, we drove up to the front of the line. The road was completely blocked by two dump trucks parked across the road. Behind the dump trucks were a line of rocks laid across the road with the remains of some tire ashes still smoldering. Jim and I went off in separate directions to find out what was going on and what our options were. I was told that the road had been blocked for at least the last three hours, and would continue to be blocked for an unknown length of time. However several people told me that it would be fine for the motorcycle to pass, around the sides. However due to the landscape and size of the opening, this option was only possibility if one had a motorcycle of 125cc or less, and clearly not for a 600lbs, 1000cc bike with wide panniers. Just then, an ambulance drove up upon the blockade with the siren blaring at first with no effect. Moments later people starting scurrying as it was apparent the blockade was about to open. I quickly hopped on my bike, and Martin on his, as one of the dump trucks started up and pulled to the side. As the dump truck moved to allow the ambulance to pass Martin and I squeezed through the tightly packed corridor with two other cars that were taking advantage of the short window of opportunity. The dump truck reversed, and quickly closed the blockade before Jim and Sharon could get through. Fortunately when they closed the blockade they left a little gap between the two dump trucks that hadn't been there before. Encouraged by the blockaders to pass his motorcycle through, Jim attempted to get his bike through. While standing along side one truck, and partially under another, he removed one of his mirrors, and made it through with his TransAlp. The R100GS wasn't going to make it with the wind screen on as it had to pass under the rear of one of the trucks. I got out the tool kit, and began to remove the wind screen. Several of the blockaders then stopped me and said that that wouldn't be necessary, and that they would gladly let a motorcyclist pass, however this would require moving a truck. After an argument with several of the other blockaders, I was told that, no they would only move the trucks for ambulances, and that my only option was to disassemble the bike. I finished taking off the wind screen, and then lined the bike up to pass. With some unnatural contortions of my body and the huge bike half way under the rear of the dump truck leaned over, One of the blockaders slid the front tire over realigning the bike underneath the truck. I was able to just barely squeeze the bike through. We were in higher spirits after having successfully crossed the blockade. Doreen passed out peanut filled chocolate bars that she had just bought for all of us from a street vendor. Perfect considering our blood sugar level was probably getting low due to it being just after noon, and we only had a small snack of bread for breakfast. Later Note: At Vilcabamba I heard that the blockade was a sort of strike for higher tariffs on bus ticket prices. We drove on through the gloomy cold rain to Loja where we stopped for lunch. Sharon who was served first ate her fried rice and then sat catatonic as the rest of talked. Later she fell asleep while sitting at the lunch table as the rest of us ate, still bundled up in her leather jacket, fleece liner, and riding pants. The stiffness of her jacket and fleece kept her head propped up. The stress of the bad road, and the cold had wiped her out. After more than an hour of sitting at the table she was still cold. We got out her electric jacket liner. Telling people we are carrying electric jacket liners usually evokes reactions of disbelief that such a thing exists sometimes followed by a snickers due to the extravagance of such luggage piece. However, today those without in our party were left wanting. It was cold and rainy all day. Even though we haven't plugged them in since our cold rainy night drive from Champaign to Chicago, I had used mine plenty of times not plugged in. This was the perfect day for an electric jacket. She was flooded with warmth in minutes. Since our map showed the road from Loja to Vilcabamba to be unpaved, we had planned to leave Sharon's bike in Loja and continue on one since we had to return anyway to cross into Peru. The four locals we asked all said the road from Loja to Vilcabamba was paved and in better condition than the road from Cuenca to Loja where we had just come. It was true. The road was in much better shape. We arrived in Vilcabamaba after about a half hour drive along the 48km. The road descended to about 5000 feet where it warmed up and finally stopped raining. We found Madre Tierra on the outskirts before town. Martin and I went up to check it out while Doreen, Sharon and Jim waited by the road, 150 meters, behind the foliage, from the entrance. We parked the bike, and then walked up the steps in to the pool bar area. While both our guide books had highly recommended this place, and one considered it a must visit, and another traveller had told us a little about it, I was still shocked. Martin's reaction was "It's a bit posh isn't it?". Part of me didn't want to see any more afraid of being more wanting, since I had called trying to make reservations yesterday and were told they were over booked for Christmas. I found our way to the reception area, all the way cringing more and more from the beauty, and inviting, wonderfully relaxing atmosphere. The travellers sitting around looked relaxed and openly friendly ready for interesting conversation. I went to the desk and asked if they had any rooms. The polite clerk asked if we had reservations. I said, "I called yesterday...". When he asked again, I said "no". To my surprise, he then listed off all of the cabanas he had available, and then the prices. Expecting to hear high prices, I was shocked as he listed off cabanas ranging from $8-$13 per person including what sounded like a wonderful breakfast and dinner. A bit excited, I pulled my walkie-talkie out of my jacket and immediately told Sharon who was still wearing her helmet and communicator waiting at the bottom of the hill. We later checked into bungalow #16. Madre Tierra is a collection of unique cozy bungalows tastefully set in a very natural earthy tropical garden on the side of a mountain. Many of the garden terraces have hangout areas with beautiful views of Vilcabamba in the valley below and the surrounding mountains. Often classical music plays from the main lodge where wonderful meals are served. New Age music (currently Enya) plays from the massage/spa/Jacuzzi/mud packing/facial/manicure/pedicure/Turkish bath/colon flora reforestation building. In the pool/bar area is a series of waterfalls that circulates the pool water. Wafts of wonderfully smelling baked goods can be picked up throughout the main area. This place is one of those resorts that one can arrive and do nothing for a week but relax, read, and get caught up one's journal. They have horse riding, and a few hiking trails for the restless. There are lots of interesting travellers to talk with. Vilcabamba is a tiny retreat town of 4,000 people known throughout Ecuador for the longevity of it's inhabitants. Many people are said to have lived to be 150 years old here, with longevity attributed to the water supply in the area. However recent studies have shown few locals actually know when they were born as it was never recorded. There is a rapid running river that runs just outside of town that looks clean. In the included dinner we had T-bone steaks or egg plant, delicious mash potatoes, vegetables, wonderful made-that-day bread, hummus, and fruit juice. The desert was a chocolate fudge like brownie. While not an exotic or gourmet meal, all of it had a like-your-wholesome-mother-might-make quality. The next morning for breakfast, we had crepes with black berry pure', home made toasted wheat bread, muesli yogurt fruit salad, and good silty coffee. Every night they show a video at 7:30 in the outdoor dining area. tonight was "Romancing the Stone", which was interesting to see after having just come from Colombia. It was funny to see all the American stereotypes of what Colombia would be like played up in the movie, and now being able to see the discrepancy with reality. December 24, 1997 Vilcabamba, Ecuador - {Madre Tierra} I woke up at 6:30, and got caught up on my journal sitting out on our thatched roof covered patio in front of our cabana that overlooks the valley and surrounding mountains. I had a spectacular view of the clouds as they flowed across an invisible plane set on top of the peaks of the surrounding mountains changing in shape and size. Sunlight shown on the tips of some of the mountains showing off the horizontal stratification layers from their creation. Later in the day we walked into the quiet small town and visited several small grocery stores picking up some wine, banana bread and Doritos. After visiting the town, I can see that the drive here from Cuenca or Loja isn't for the town, but rather the traveller resort like atmosphere of Madre Tierra. We had a nice dinner drinking the wine we picked up, and the wine Martin bought. Martin was really getting into celebrating Christmas and picked up a bottle of whiskey which he shared, but other than a couple shots finished himself. Martin was very entertaining, but now out of context it might be prudent to not describe how he was entertaining, but just to remember we all had a good time. Since it was Christmas eve, the owners passed around a half glass of red wine to everyone. There was an evening movie called "Face Off" with John Travolta and Nicholas Cage that was pretty good. This video was obviously video taped from a camera in the audience of a movie theater as we could hear the audience laughing and coughing throughout the movie. Other than a Christmas tree lit up, it was like any other night. December 25, 1997 Vilcabamba, Peru - {Madre Tierra} Another day in a relative paradise, we hung out in one of the most relaxing areas we had been in since Ocosingo, Mexico. They served a Christmas dinner of Turkey with a delicious stuffing. Since I'm filling this in a month later, I forgot the details, but Sharon wrote them down. I went off and finally smoked my Cuban Montecristo cigar I had bought in Playa del Carmen in Mexico. I brought out our flask of rum, and sipped a little. While it was a good cigar, it certainly wasn't worth the price. I think Cuban cigars are overrated or at least overpriced. Jim said he had heard that all the good cigar makers fled to Jamaica when Castro took over since their was no more money to be made in Cuba. I don't doubt that. December 26, 1997 Macara, Ecuador - {Residencial Paraiso} We were all getting low on gas, and so in Loja, the biggest town in the area, we thought we should get some gas. I pulled up to the super gas pump in the gas station. They said they were out of the super {which is typically in the 92-95 octane range). They said they only had 70 octane. I asked for reconfirmation at least 3 times among two different attendants, since I've never heard of the existence of 70 octane gas except from 30 year old rumors about travelling through Africa. They had a stack of octane boost additive bottle on top of the gas pump which gave more credibility to their claim. I asked where there was another gas station. They said that all the gas stations in this town only have 70 octane gas. We drove 6km into town to another gas station. Their 93 and 84 octane pumps where also out. They said they only have 72 octane, and also had a big stack of octane boost additive bottles. Up until this point 84 was the lowest octane our bikes had run on, and they had run fine. One consideration in choosing our bikes was the low compression engine which is perfect for handling low octane gas. We filled up with their 72 octane gas. Since the octane boost seemed to be readily available, I took a chance and didn't buy any of this. We didn't have any problems with this gas, and ran on it until well into Peru. Didn't notice any knocking, pinging, or rough riding. I'm still suspicious of the 72 claim. I suspected a different rating system, however, they sold (on some other day) 93 octane which they called super, which sounds like the same rating system. Jim didn't mention any problems with his TransAlp which has a stock higher compression engine. After filling up in Loja, we said our goodbyes to Martin and Doreen who headed North on their "Bouncing Bomb" as Jim, Sharon and I went South to Peru. Of the remaining ~200km, the last 70km were dirt. Most was good dirt, however there was some loose gravel, and mud puddle holes that Sharon didn't feel comfortable crossing, so I took both bikes across. We arrived into town about 7:30pm, long past dusk. Sharon used the auxiliary light installed on the R100G/S while driving over the road construction near the end. The R80G/S had an auxiliary fog light however it had broken off during a kickstand give out in Ocosingo Mexico, and was finally thrown out in Costa Rica. The bikes took a lot of abuse today. The first being the R100GS falling over before we got started because the D-lock wasn't removed. The second being the R80G/S when seemingly parked on a flat surface it rolled over it's kickstand, which broke the left mirror, and shattered the already cracked lens on the left turn signal. On the dirt road, the R100GS fell over while I attempted to park it on a hilly bad dirt road. It fell over again while Sharon was going over a particularly steep hump in the road. The R80G/S fell over while long after dusk, I was in town, tired, attempting to turn around on a dark deep rutted steep dirt hill when the front wheel got stuck in an unseen rut. This fall tore out the lower right support strap on the tank pannier. Jim had gone on ahead of us while I helped Sharon negotiate some of the rough spots on the 70km of dirt/gravel road. We had planned to meet Jim at the central park on the hour. He had arrive more than two hours ahead of us. At 8:00pm, I drove over to the park while Sharon veg'd out at the wrong park we had been waiting at the past ten minutes. As I was driving around the correct central park, an energetic kid about 9 years old ran up to me and asked if my name was Dave, and if there was a senora on a motorcycle by the name of Sharon. Figuring this kid was either a good guesser, a psychic or a messenger from Jim, I stopped and listened. He led me two blocks away where Jim was having some dinner. Jim told us he had found a hotel and led me there. I retrieved Sharon and after getting lost finally got her and myself back to the hotel. Sharon who was now a walking zombie due to total fatigue fell instantly to sleep on the bed. I unloaded and locked up the bikes. In a manner that a friend respectfully tells another, their underwear is showing, Jim drew my attention to my pants. I had recently taken off my over pants, and was standing out in front of the hotel with a 10" rip down the front of my pants between my right cargo pocket and my zipper. I was showing off my underwear to the world. My excess body heat, the stagnant humidity of the town, and my surging residual adrenaline from navigating the dirt construction road in the dark had overshadowed the draft I should have felt. I let out a descending expletive, and thanked Jim for voicing his observation. I retreated back to my room where I then changed into my other pair of pants. I suspect the weak fabric had split under the over pants as I was lifting the bike one of the many times today. When I came out, one kid didn't hide the fact that he had just noticed I was no longer showing the town what kind of underwear I wear. ---- Dave Thompson thompson@pdnt.com www - http://sdg.ncsa.uiuc.edu/~mag/Thompson Net-Tamer V 1.09 Palm Top - Registered