January 21, 1997 Agua Caliente (Machu Picchu), Peru - {Gringo Bill's Hotel) Rather than paying what we heard was $40-$90 train fare, we took the local train riding what was called first class for 15 Soles ($5.55). Second class was 10 Soles. The previous day, we waited 45 minutes in a crowded line during the only one hour slot that tickets are sold at the train station. We got our tickets in the first class cabin. This morning at 6:30am, we boarded our train for departure. The difference between first class and second is that the seats have a thin layer of vinyl padding over the wood seats. Our first class assigned bench seating was right next to the bathroom. Our leg room intimately shared space with the two other seats that sat opposite facing ours. On our trip, they belonged to the friendly Polish travellers we had met standing just in front of us in the train ticket line the day before. The train left relatively on time. At the first stop a half hour later, the walk way started to fill up with local passengers that paid two to five soles. They brought on huge bundles of goods which crammed the walkway, and every available space. This worked to our advantage as the locals then filled up the toilet room which provided relatively spacious standing room for two locals and their goods. Since the toilet was now permanently occupied, this cut down the stench that we thought we would have to endure. People piled into the walkway until some were sitting on each other. One girl who sat crammed in next to me fought for her breathing space, and told people that she had cheese when they asked if they could sit on her belongings. Meanwhile fried chicken, cheese, BBQ ribs and other unknown luggage sat on my foot as my legs were forced a little out into the walkway by the lack of leg room shared between Sharon, the two Polish guys and myself. The 10 year old cheese girl, was exhausted, and napped with her head on my knee and arms wrapped around my calf. Occasionally a local would climb over her getting their skirt caught on her head, or squishing her cheese. A couple hours into the trip, another older girl who had been standing hovering over head sat down and offered to let the girl sit on her lap. Another boy cramped in the passage slid down and his legs gouged into their backs. The hall by the bathroom was like a pile of bodies all for the most part in good spirits, and quickly becoming friends. Some people's feet were at my sitting head level as they stood on bags of potatoes and onions stacked in the narrow train walkway corridor. Old woman that walked by stood on the arm rest of my chair. Wafts of the last few things they sat on, permeated our nostrils as the trapezed on by. Occasionally I would feel some cloth bag of goods resting on my shoulder as a person attempted to pass overhead above our bodies. And this was the first class local train.... It would not be impossible to travel in these conditions in anything but good spirits or at least feeling very tolerant without going postal. It's all part of the cultural experience that we chose to get ourselves into. The Polish guys told us that ten years ago, train travel in Poland was similar. The train arrived in Aqua Caliente a little over four hours after we left Cusco. In Huacca China while sand boarding, and again in Nasca we ran in to two British doctors who had recommended staying at Gringo Bill's Hotel in Aqua Caliente. It was run by Bill, a gringo from Florida. Foreign run hotels and restaurants are always a big bump up in value, and so are always preferred. Gringo Bill's turned out to be the nicest of the 40 or so hostals in Aqua Caliente. The place is built up with three levels of wood floor terraces all overlooking the town and surrounding mountains. We just happened to luck into room #17 which was probably the nicest room in the hotel with 270 degrees (4 sides) of windows, and 180 (2 sides) balcony with views of the mountains and town below. I was able to negotiate the price from $25 to $15 for the night. Excellent value! We hung out on our covered wood floor porch for part of the afternoon while it rained. Later when the sky temporarily cleared up, we hiked around town up one of the tributary rivers to the hot baths. Beautiful area. At the baths, warm water is captured into cement pools where people pile into. It looks like a warm swimming pool, and not very inviting to us. I was spoiled in Costa Rica, near Volcano Arenal swimming in the hot springs river in the tropical woods. We went to Clave del Sole of Chez Magi restaurant for dinner and had garlic bread, and ravioli in garlic, pesto, and a red sauce washed down with a liter of their house red wine which was Gato Negro from Chile. A liter is really the perfect size for dinner for two people. This 750ml bottle standard was invented when people's size was 25% smaller a couple centuries ago. January 23, 1998 Aqua Caliente (Machu Picchu), Peru - {Gringo Bill's Hostal} At 6:30, we took the bus for a half hour ride up the mountain to Machu Picchu. Machu Picchu was the Inca capital where the Incas ruled their empire from. The choice of location for their capital seems for defensive or possible aesthetic reasons. (I'm sure the former) Machu Picchu is in a difficult area of Peru to get to. We left the Pan American Highway with the sole intention of coming here. We drove to Arequipa, then because of bad roads that we were told could take up to 4 days to drive, we flew from Arequipa to Cusco. From Cusco we took a train to Agua Caliente. We could have taken a Russian made helicopter, except they were not running this week. From Agua Caliente there is a bus that drives up to Machu Picchu and takes a half hour. We made this trip in four relaxing partial days of travel rather than four hellish long days on the motorcycle slogging through mud, dirt and gravel. The Eastern route to Cuzco we've heard as being even worse taking 9-10 days by motorcycle due solely to the poor roads. However arriving here the easy way, the trip has been worth it. The ruins are nice, however it's the setting that makes it incredible. Machu Picchu is set on top of a mountain surrounded by mountains. However these are not normal mountains, These mountains have the most vertical cliff faces leading all the way down to the river valley below. The ancient capital is often cloud covered, and they've invented a system of aqueducts that capture mist from the clouds channelling the water to where it could be collected and supply the entire city. At 6:30 in the morning the area was covered in fog which hid the surrounding mountains from view. At the entrance of Machu Picchu is the Machu Picchu hotel which charges $192 per night, and were told by guests staying there, that it is about the equivalent of a $50 per night hotel in Champaign, IL. That is, nothing special for the price.... Location, location, location. At the foot of the mountain is a nice camp ground next to the fast flowing river, Urubamba. These are the only two other alternatives other than staying in Aqua Caliente, like we did. Machu Picchu is a nicely preserved ruins, but now heavily touristy. The fog didn't clear until around 10am, making photography a little difficult. Meanwhile, we hiked up the Inca trail for an hour to Inti Punku or Gateway of the Sun. On the way in, I was thinking hiking the Inca trail from Cusco which is suppose to be a 3 day hike would be excellent since the mountain scenery is so unique and beautiful. However, there were so many people hiking in, that the heavy traffic might detract from the experience. Every travel agency in Cusco offers a "Hike the Inca trail" package where porters are often provided. At Inti Punku, we met a nurse from Florida. She was down here on a volunteer mission with a party of doctors. They had come down on their own money to provide free operations for kids with cleft palates who lived up in the rural mountains. Afterwards, none of them took any relax time afterwards to see the sights except her and the group's organizer. Between 7:00am, and 1:30, we had about 2 hours of no fog or rain allowing for beautiful pictures. We hiked back down the trail to Machu Picchu as it clear up. We shared the trail with large groups of college age Brazilians and Argentinians who had backpacked the trail. Running along the trail were local workers carrying bundles of boards for building something further down. Their leg and calf muscles made them look like Peruvian olympic athletes, obviously running the mountain trail several times a day with construction materials. By 1:30, we had seen enough and began to hike down to the river valley below. On the way down we met Pete and Pat. Pete is partially retired from his own business which does international marketing of industrial parts based out of the Chicago area. Pete has been wanting to do a motorcycle trip through the Americas, and will do one as soon as he can find someone who is interested in pairing up with him who would travel at the same pace. Meanwhile he also been looking into buying a Cesna 182G which he can fit a small motorcycle in, and then cruise the Americas. His real desire though is to ride from Turkistan to China by motorcycle. I shared with him the recent information we had on the difficulties of getting into China. However, he had a few business contacts in China which he thought would be able to clear the way. Despite travelling extensively for business the past 25 years, he still loves to travel. We talked about travelling through Mayan areas which he and his wife have spent a good deal of time travelling. Recently they flew their 20 kids and grandkids to Cancun for a family reunion. They were an interesting couple to talk to. I told them I would pass on some contacts of other people interested in doing similar travels. In the early evening, power in our hotel dimmed such that we could see the tungsten filament in our 240 volt light bulbs just barely burning orange. This continued until morning. The clerks told us this was common in Agua Caliente. Since the hot showers were electric, this also meant no hot showers. January 23, 1998 Cuzco, Peru - Hostal Suize II In the morning, we hung out on our balcony working on my journal while Sharon worked on post cards. We were waiting for the trains to Cuzco which only leave in the afternoon. We figured we had enough local train riding culture on the way in, and so opted to go for the tourist class of which there were three: Express, Pullman, and Autovagon in increasing comfort and price order. Despite getting to the ticket sales 15 minutes before they opened, we still stood in line for 45 minutes. By the time we were at the front of the line, our only choices were standing room only on the 2nd class local train, or Pullman on the tourist train. Even though the price was 5 Soles versus 44 soles ($1.82 versus $16.05), the choice was easy. While express and Pullman are on the same train, the Pullman cars were suppose to be the cushiest. Autovagon is three times the price as the Pullman, and is a beautiful German looking, made for tourist train with large glass windows and roomy seats. When our train arrived, the Pullman car had a uniform wearing conductor hanging out the door with a nice sign making it easily visible to the tourists standing at the station which car was the Pullman car. On board our car, there was a full time security guard in formal uniform. We had a steward and stewardess, and one maintenance guy. While the car had a full service crew, and we had cushy seats, the car didn't compare to the comfort of a typical Amtrak car. However as it turned out, none of this mattered to me as much as the relatively nice Pullman bathroom did, of which I occupied more than half my time of this four hour trip. This morning, with my granola yogurt breakfast, I had a jugo de platano con leche y salmonella (basically a banana milk shake). My banana milk shake did me in, and kicked in just as the train was taking off. As I hung out in the bathroom, I imagined what committing hari kari would feel like, and contemplated how one would handle arranging a timely appendectomy in this remote area of Peru. The train violently shook from side to side as the train rode over the rough tracks almost the whole way. This further aggravating my situations. The local train seemed much more gentle, likely due to the slower speed, and possibly different suspension. However, on that train, I would have constantly had to climb over the locals blocking the bathroom, and been kicking out the locals and their goods who chose to stand in there since it's the most spacious standing space on the local train. Larry, an American kid sitting next to us, who lived here with his parents and rode the train often told us about how 3 months ago while he was riding the train, the rail separated enough such that the engine fell between the rails onto the several railroad ties which then split in two from the weight. Four of the five cars tipped over on their side. Not ninety degrees, but from his description it sounded like 20-30 degrees. Panic broke out among many in the crowd as they didn't know what to do. Fortunately no one was seriously hurt, and the river on the side the train slanted toward didn't play into this accident. Feeling this side to side jostling as the train rolled down the tracks left little doubt in the truth of his story. Notes: In Cusco and Arequipa, many of the tourist shops market alpaca and baby alpaca sweaters, scarves and hats. The baby alpaca is as soft or softer than cashmere. The best stuff I saw in Cusco sold for $72, I saw sweaters that I would expect to see for three to four times that price in the US. If we weren't short on time, this would be the place to shop for sweaters. It takes some looking around. These sweaters are in a different league from the hand made wool one's sold in Otavalo, Ecuador for $11. January 24, 1998 Arequipa, Peru - {Hostal Gobernador} We spent the morning writing post cards waiting for our flight to take off. We booked our flight back to Arequipa on Aeroperu when we arrived in Cuzco. Since our 30 day visa expires on the 26th, we were pressed for time. Fortunately, they didn't have any more seats available except in first class, so we had to book first class tickets. We had an on time flight in comfort. However, the flight was too short. Arequipa has a Chocolate factory which is well marketed in this town, but not so in the rest of Peru. The chocolate factory is called La Iberica, and in addition to many caramels, candies, chocolate bunnies etc, we found 7 different chocolate bars they market. We bought all seven, and later in the afternoon did a tasting. Rica, Onas, Dolcilatte, and Milky were our favorites while Baby, Tiny and Lunch being the least desirable for us. Certainly not Belgian, but still very good. January 25, 1998 Tacna, Peru - {Hostal Lida} R80G/S 35331 R100GS 24969 We left Arequipa early Sunday morning avoiding large city traffic. Tacna is an overpriced border town where Chileans come for weekend excursions to buy Peruvian products. We had an overpiced lunch of macaroni and cheese with ham, and two pitchers of lemonade cost roughly $18, ($8 for the lemonade). We didn't know at the time we were racking up such a bill. January 26, 1998 Arica, Chile R100GS 25215 R80GS 35586 Typical Price of gas in Peru 84 octane 4.9 Soles 95 octane 6.5 D2 4.2 D1 3.4 Fortunately, Sharon had read that we need to purchase four forms per vehicle in Tacna before crossing the border. Two are used on the Peru side while the other two are used by the Chileans. The four half pieces of paper are nothing special, and so I don't understand why the governments doesn't supply these at the border. I can't imagine it costing the respective governments more than $.10 per day. As we were leaving town, Sharon pulled over to the side while I drove up two blocks to the post office to drop off some postcards. When I looped back around, a police officer was blowing his whistle at me. While I know better than to stop, I was at an intersection with cross traffic moving that prevented me from taking off. While immobilized, the officer walked up to me and asked me to turn off the motorcycle. He then asked for my drivers license. I asked why? no answer. I handed him my duplicate. He said this is a photocopy. I said, yes it is. He wanted the real thing. Again, I asked why? I handed it to him. He then asked for my vehicle transit papers. which I gave him. He told me that I had passed by 10 minutes earlier and turned left where there is a sign that says no left turn. It was true that I turned, but I had not seen the sign. He asked why I didn't pull over when I heard his whistle. I told him that there are whistles blowing everywhere for who knows what. And then right on que, another police man near by blew his whistle for who knows what. Now that this cop had my papers, he looked as if he didn't know what he was going to do. I told him I've been in Peru for 29 days without a problem, and have 20 minutes more in this country. He told me to be careful, handed me back my papers, and I was off. The roads leading out of this country where unmarked. We came across two rotundas without signs, and explored each arm until we could find someone to point us to the correct turn off. It was frustrating leaving especially given the heat. We spent our remaining Soles on gasoline since we were under the impression that gas in Chile would be more expensive. (It turned out to be only slightly more). In Peru, 84 octane sells for around 4.9 Soles per gallon ($1.78) or about 6.5 Soles ($2.36) per gallon for 95 octane. Since the low compression engine of these beemers run fine with 84, we've been filling up with that. At the Peruvian border crossing which is 33km South of Tacna. A police officer guided us in to a parking spot near a sign that said "Narcotics". Another official in a uniform then asked to search the bikes. He asked in turn for each pannier to be opened. He went through our belongings until he got to the bottom of the panniers. This was the most thorough search we've encountered on our trip. However, not so thorough that I wouldn't be able to smuggle contraband if I wanted to. As I didn't understand why Peru would search so carefully upon leaving rather than entering, I asked the guy searching what country he worked for. He continued his search in a friendly matter. This Peruvian border crossing had a required physical body inspection. ---- We drove on to the Chilean border post 4km further down the road in the windy sunny sand desert. The processing took us nearly an hour, and was uneventful. Our guide book had said that US citizens (only) are charged a $20 entrance fee good for the life of their passport. This didn't turn out to be the case. As with the rest of South America, we hadn't paid any fees at border crossings. They checked the VIN numbers on the motorcycle. The aluminum engraved placard I had made in Quito Ecuador, and epoxied onto the frame just now served it's purpose and paid for itself. Not having this in Colombia cost us an extra day getting through customs. The official didn't question it's validity. The sign upon leaving said we had 2085km (1272 miles) to Santiago, the capital, which is located about half way between here and Tierra del Fuego, the Southern tip, where we are headed. First impressions of Arica, reminded me of Brownsville Texas or Corpus Christie, Texas since it's a port town. The street roads in the town are wide with curbs. The cars are larger, and generally more expensive. The number of luxury cars is much higher. Driving style is relaxed such that we haven't seen since Belize. At one intersection, I pulled up to Sharon to say something to her, and the other cars crossing waited for us since it was our turn to go. We had to wave them through yielding our turn. This was shocking, since in the rest of Latin America, no one would do this. Driving style had switched from a machismo look out for my self, to a more slow paced consideration towards others. Later on, we were surprised to find people turned on their head lights at dusk rather than wait until all traces of sun had vanished which has been the norm. Obviously people consider being seen when light is dim as important as being able to see. Between here and Mexico, people would often flash there lights signally to you that you may have ~accidentally~ turned your lights on. We hopped off our bikes and sat down at a park bench to get our bearings and find a hotel in our guide book. We looked up at the street corner to find out where we were, and were pleasantly surprised to find street signs where they should be. Sharon went off looking for a hotel, and after checking out five, came back. We're in an expensive country now where the value for the hotel isn't quite the same. For 8,000 pesos ($17.78) she found a place that was hot, and noisy, but clean with fan and had it's own bathroom with television with three local channels which we likely won't use. Figuring, I'd feel pretty stupid crossing the driest land on earth with out drinking, where no rain has fallen in recorded history, I made some water with our water filter and some iodine. Plain water can not be purchased here. People look at us strange as if they don't understand "water without gas and without mineral.... same as the rain, same as what comes out of the tap.... what is this called?" unknown. Plain H2O minus CO2 and minus CaCO3. doesn't exist around here. Therefore, I need to produce my own H2O minus carbon life forms plus a little halide. We were considering buying some bags of water from a battery shop. That at least would be plain and distilled. The other alternative was to buy a bag of ice and let it melt.... Notes: Time change. Chile is GMT-4 but since we're on Southern daylight savings time now, it's GMT-3. Time jumped forward two hours crossing from Peru to Chile. We're currently 3 hours ahead of Chicago's Central Standard Time. Even though clocks change two hours ahead, nothing else in Chile seems to pay attention to this. People go to bed two hours later than in Peru, and get up two hours later. At 8:00am, the city is as busy as the equivalent size city is at 6:00am in Peru. Exchange rate on the street is 450 Pesos to sell US dollars, or 460 to buy dollars. Exchange rate is better in Arica than in Iquique which is 445 to sell US dollars. January 27, 1998 Iquique, Chile - {Hostal Canton} R100GS 25248 R80G/S 35619 We gradually passed from coastal barren desert to high plain barren desert to an altitude of 3,700 meters. The temperature cooled off considerably and at this altitude it was very comfortable cool riding temperature. We came upon a canyon which at first it was not possible to see the bottom of since it dropped nearly 3300 feet. For most of this canyon, a small river ran through the canyon floor, and some green desert scrub vegetation surrounded the water. The road led down to this canyon floor, and the temperature began to rise. While driving through the lower part of the canyon, we had a tail wind with an occasional side gust. The thermometer on the R100GS was beginning to red line, however as soon as we climbed out of the canyon again, it again cooled off. Over the last three days I've been seeing some rather large dirt devils stirring up clouds of sand. Some of them are as wide and well formed as a small tornado, causing me to look up with some anxiety only to be relieved that there is no funnel cloud above, and the twirling mass quickly becomes invisible above 50-100 feet. When I flew airplane gliders, we use to look for these dirt devils on the ground since the thermal lift produced by these are incredible. In Illinois, I once rode one of these relatively smaller appearing dirt devils from 2,000 feet to an altitude of 7,500 feet. In one desert plain that we crossed, I counted five of these visible at once each going in different directions, some crossing the road ahead of us. They would not be fun to get hit by on a motorcycle. Fortunately most of our skin is protected by the potential sand blast by gloves, jacket, pants and boots. We stopped for a short break to eat some club crackers and rehydrate with water. the high hard sand desert plain occasionally had white spots in the sand. I walked over to one, and found it was a white powder that comes from soft white rock. Further down the road, there were huge man made piles obviously made from the back hoe near by. This area is rich in nitrate mining, which I assume is what this powder is. In the 19th century, the Pacific war was in part based on the possession of the rich mineral rights of this area. Not knowing what the positive ion is on this nitrate, and fearing it to be potassium nitrate (colloquilly known as salt peter), I opted not to mess with it any more, given the rumored effect it has on males. The road to Iquique turns off the PanAmerican for 48km. Near this turnoff the desert is scattered with rocks of various size that have been moved around to form what looks like a crude habitations. However since the surrounding area is so barren and there is no visible source of water, my guess is that the rocks were stacked up as bunker encampments during the Pacific wars. As evident by the Nasca lines, when people stack up rocks in the desert, their creation may stand for thousands of years. As a result, the desert mountains from Northern Peru and on down are covered with a sort of graffiti where people spell out their name in rocks on the sides of the mountains visible for all drivers by. There isn't really much of a town to speak of between the 300+km between Arica and Iquique. Iquique sole existence seems to be economically based on the free trade zone there. It's a port town with a population of 140,000. The approach to Iquique is interesting. The 48km from the PanAmerican is desolate rocky desert with an occasional sign board advertising some name brand that can be purchased in the free trade zone. At the coast, one gets a feel for the altitude as the road then drops a couple thousand feet off an immense sand dune to the coastal town below. There is a lot of commerce flowing through on this busy highway leading in. Just outside of town we drove by a huge mound of bright yellow substance which dwarfed the Caterpillar bulldozer that was parked on top. I assumed it was a mountain of mined sulfur, since this area is so heavy in various mineral mining. hot noisy hotel for $22. For $46, still didn't have A/C. January 28, 1998 Iquique, Chile - {Hostal Canton} We didn't sleep well in this hot hostal all night. Half way through the night, we slept with the door open, and window curtain open minimizing our privacy such that anyone could come in and see us sleeping in our underwear. Just after 1:00, we caught a taxi, and told him we want to go to the Zofri, or tax free zone. Zofri is a shopping mall known throughout Chile for it's sale of tax free items. Like a duty free shop in an airport, it helps to know one's prices. While certain things are cheap, others are not. While there is a large concentration of goods the likes we haven't seen since Cancun, Mexico, it's a mess trying to find what one wants since there is little theme focus. For example, one store sells only liquor, sleeping bags, AA batteries, and pens. Another one sells dirt bike tires, motorcycle oil, and kids clothes. There are a couple specialty shops such as the ones run by Sony, Casio, Michelin, and Pirelli. The Pirelli dealer was a bargain, and was the main reason we came here. Martin and Doreen, the British motorcyclists we met in Ecuador had told us that we could by a good Pirelli tire here for $37. The last Pirelli we bought in Costa Rica, cost us $126. It was true, I picked up an MT60 Brazil made dual sport front tire for 16,500 Pesos ($36.67). At that price I wanted two. The clerk said he had one, but that he would have another in the morning. We were planning to leave in the morning, however if this was true, we'd stay another day. I wanted to be sure as I could though, so I explicitly told him that we'll wait here and spend an extra $22 on our hotel just so we can buy this tire. He said no problem.... (of course, this is a little foreshadowing...) When we returned to our hotel, we went to the public telephone office that we had found this morning with an electrical outlet next to the telephone. The public phone (CTC -Chile Telephone Company?), worked with our AT&T direct dial access code, making this a perfect sight for doing e-mail from our palmtops. I plugged the computer into the wall, since the modem card sucks too much power from the palmtop's 2 AA batteries, hooked up the acoustic coupler, and dialed AT&T access number. We have connection.... WooHoo! After 3 months of no e-mail (San Jose, Costa Rica), we had 90 messages waiting for us. In Panama and Colombia we could work easily with the phone system however finding a public phone next to an electrical outlet is more difficult than one would guess. All international calls in Ecuador went through Emetel offices where someone would dial for us, and hand over the phone when it rang... not very compatible with a computer. Also, in Peru and Ecuador, AT&T doesn't have direct dial requiring talking to an AT&T operator to place the call which given the 15 second delay of the software I'm using between button press, and carrier detect makes this very obtuse. Failed attempts get expensive and frustrating. Anyway, we downloaded our 90 messages, and then of our twenty messages to send, only three were sent off which happened to be journals before something in the connection hung. During the 18 minutes we were hooked up, the clerk walked by twice, to inconspicuously make sure we weren't doing anything fishy with all that electronic equipment hooked up to her phone. The third time she stopped and asked, and we told her that we were sending e-mail which she seemed to acknowledge that she had heard of. However still not convinced, she went next door and told her friend to check us out. He came over, stood around, asked us questions like how are we paying for our call, questions about the computer, etc. People in Latin America are familiar with coin payments and debit cards however none of the phone systems take payment with access and pin numbers like AT&T has arranged to do with all of the foreign phone companies. We told him we were paying with a phone card. He left us, delivered his report to the clerk, that we seemed legitimate, and then left. In Costa Rica, and in Cancun, we aroused the suspicion of the building security guards who have a dual role in protecting the mall, and the phone company from phone piracy. Everyone always asks. January 29, 1998 We took a taxi to the Zofri mall to pick up our tire. The same clerk told us he didn't have it, nor could he get it. I reminded him of what I told him yesterday, that it would cost us $22 for another night at a hotel to wait and come and get the tire in the morning. He apologized, and I was left with no tire and a $22 hotel bill in a hot noisy hotel in an unattractive town. Unfortunately, he's the only Pirelli tire dealer in town. We wandered around the area some more, and found a place that sold sleeping bags. There were a lot of other sleeping bags sold in either toy stores, cosmetic stores, clothing stores etc. However this particular clothing store had a descent selection. We had sent our sleeping bags back home in Austin Texas, and hadn't missed them since camping in central america was so warm. Ecuador was cool in the mountains, however hotel accommodations were cheap and high in value so we didn't camp. Guerrilla activity is a bit high in Colombia to just be camping on the side of the road. We didn't have an urge to camp in Peru... maybe because of all the garbage along the side of the roads. We bought two Austrian made, nice -13 degree Celsius polyester filled mummy bags for US$66 each. I'd expect to pay twice that back home for the same quality. These were the nicest we could find other than a Thinsulate bag at a ridiculous price of US$300. We then found a store that sold the DOT 4 brake fluid I had been looking for since Huacca China, Peru, and some replacement spare Bosch spark plugs. Unfortunately the store was closed for the 1-4:30 lunch break, so I had to come back and pick it up in the evening. I needed the brake fluid since for the fork job I had to do. The seals on the front forks on the R100GS started going bad in northern Peru, and as a result have been spewing fork oil on my over pants and boots when we do rough roads. The front forks also dive too far when I hit the front brake too fast, as a result of fork oil too low. I'm carrying a spare quart of 7.5 weight fork oil for when I replace the seals. I bought this in Panama, and have been carrying it since. Fork oil is hard to find except in major cities. Especially 7.5W which I believe only BMW uses. 10W which can be bought at a Yamaha dealers works in a pinch. ---- Dave Thompson thompson@pdnt.com www - http://sdg.ncsa.uiuc.edu/~mag/Thompson Net-Tamer V 1.09 Palm Top - Registered