Just had a GREAT interview with Entertainment Radio Network. I’m so honored that they contacted me.

The segment is on Adventure Motorcycling–and guess who they interviewed–ME! I love taking about the sport from the female adventurer’s perspective.

http://www.ernlive.com/ is Entertainment Radio Network’s web site–not sure when the interview goes live but I’ll post again when it does.

~MAG (Alisa)

Here are some misc. Baja pics:

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Next I’ll be publishing an interview with Jonah Street, who is en-route to South America to race in the Dakar Rally Raid starting January 1.

Many of them are new and never published.

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MotoAdventureGal's last leg in the USA...riding to the border at Presidio

All the parents dressed their children up in the *campesino* costumes and had them blessed at the local Church

Lunch Break

Lunch Break

There sure were a lot of signs for them, but I never actually saw one crossing the road

Overloaded bike, soft beach sand...what did I *think* was gonna happen? (El Salvador)

Igorshen, MotoAdventureGal and Mad4Bikes

Stone Face at the Copan Ruins

No way was I able to eat all that, but what I *did* eat sure tasted good.

You better like rice & beans and fried bananas if you spend any time in Nicaragua...

Slow down for monkeys, dogs and kids crossing

Photo Credit: Igorshen

Tourist PicPhoto Credit: Igorshen

The Bike Lands in Bogota, Colombia

Bike Porn

Middle of the World, Mitad del Mundo

Painting on a Wall at Mitad del Mundo, Quito, Ecuador

Can you imagine that in the USA? (Ecuador)

Monkey Sanctuary (Baños, Ecuador)

Monkey Sanctuary (Baños, Ecuador) Yeup, that's Monkey Pee on my shirt.

Ecuador

Riding from paracas (Sea Level) to Cusco (8,000 ft) I crossed the Andes, and almost reached 15,000 feet on the DR650

Markets are so full of color and fun and good things. I love them.

Oh-My-Goddess Scenery

Local Color at the Ecuador-Peru border (Peruvian Side)

A local feeding the pelicans at sunset in Paracas. Afterwards he asked me for a "tip"

Cañon del Pato

I stopped to take a picture and this boy came running out of nowhere. Then his sister came along. He asked me for a "tip", presumably for enhancing my photo. I gave them each a piece of candy.

No, I did not eat one of the "coy" (guinea pig) that were running around the place.

The trip was not without injury...but you *can* choose to have a sense of humor about it.

How do you ride with a broken hand? Zip tie your fingers together and hope for the best.

No, I did not eat one of the "coy" (guinea pig) that were running around the place.

Waiting at the Bolivian side of the Peru - Bolivia Border for my paperwork to be finished

Bolivian Immigration

What goes up, must go down...and around, and around and around...

Rick on the Edge of the World

Off-Street Parking in the Bolivian Desert

Road Signs on the Way to the Bolivian Salt Flats

Road Signs on the Way to the Bolivian Salt Flats

Fill-Up in Copacabana, Bolivia (Lake Titicaca area)

Dedication to all the women, more courageous than I, who have battled against Breast or Ovarian Cancer

Scammed by Argentinian Police looking for a bribe

First Flat Tire of the Trip (Note to self: Make sure you put the bike on HARD PACK instead of sand before removing the rear tire...)

Parilla, or BBQ, Argentinian Style

Taken at the Lujan Zoo outside Buenos Aires, Argentina

http://rumbum.com/1138-the-kindness-of-strangers

http://rumbum.com/994-into-the-darien

What a lucky turn of fate that I got introduced to Adolfo, and that he happened to be shipping his bike the same week

I’d been corresponding with a couple other moto-travelers, and for a few weeks we’d all been trying to research– independently, and then sharing information–how to get across the Darien Gap both economically and efficiently. It was frustrating trying to juggle that with the daily travels, and quite stress-producing actually. many folks on ADVrider.com and HorizonsUnlimited.com advised that all would become clear in Panama…that basically you arrive in Panama City, do a little sightseeing, check your options, then wait for your selection to leave/embark/whatever you choose.  Now I am sure that seems easy enough reading it here in my blog, but I assure you when you are traveling, and are faced with a big logistical problem, it haunts you all the time until it is impossible to relax about arriving somewhere and working it out (which, ironically, is one of the HUGE lessons that long-term travel teaches you–that you will work everything out in due time)

Anyway, I was terribly grateful to Adolfo to have solved my logistical problem so easily and efficiently. especially in light of reading my friend Ben’s blog and his “adventure” crossing from Panama to Colombia. Here’s a link to his journey if you are interested:  http://afewmoremiles.com/2010/01/28/mutiny-on-the-bounty-crossing-the-darien-gap/ . Igor also finally made it across, and you can read about HIS adventure here: http://afewmoremiles.com/2010/01/28/mutiny-on-the-bounty-crossing-the-darien-gap/ (he also mentions our time together in the Darien, with HIS pics)

Anyway, on with MY Story.

Adolfo and his wife Marta picked me up at my hostal and we all rode together to the airport.

In order to save $150 I booked a cheaper flight on a different airline than Mario, so he dropped me off at the curb and we agreed to meet at migracion.

Well, I cleared security really quickly, and waited…and waited…and while I was sitting there waiting I took a look at my passport…I did not have the “exit” stamp for my bike in my passport ike I was supposed to….uh oh…so I asked the Aduana agent there if he could stamp my passport..um, calls, consultations with other officials, and some 20 minutes later he said the only way to get it was to go down to the Aduana office and get it from the main Aduana dude. “But what if he’s not available?” I asked. He asssured me that the man was available.

At this point I had 20 minutes until boarding time for my flight…do I wait to meet Adolfo ike I am supposed to and “wing it” when I get to Colombia potentially not having the right paperwork? Perhaps never being able to enter Panama again without a big  fine? Or do I take a chance, walk a 1/4 mile in full motorcycle gear is the 956 degree head, and get my stamp?

I decided to set off as a brisk pace and allow myself PRECISELY 20 minutes…if I did not have my stamp in exactly 20 minutes, I would leave. My flight was $250 and I did not want to miss it–not did I want to miss Adolfo and my motorcycle on the other side.

Well, I should have known, especially after traveling in Central America already for 3 months,  should have been smarter than to think that I could rush ANYTHING in Latin America. but I am American, yes a gringa, and a perpetually optimistic one at that. I find the office, of course the furthest one away, and of course the official was busy! I explained my plight, in a rather agitated way, to one person after another, until I had the entire office consulting on my dilemma: here was my paperwork that the bike had shipped to  Colombia, yet I did not have it stamped out of my passport. Ack! My 20 minutes was up, but they had my passport…I was soooooo close…I was pacing…hurry up…hurry up…weird looks from office stamp whose usual order of business is ‘tranquila‘ (translate: relax!–It’s widely overused here and widely overrated!)  they said he was stamping…25 minutes…pace pace…try not to pace…30 minutes, …………………….. ……………………………………..

done!

With the admonition that next time I should alllow more time. YES M’AM! no problem. Yes, next time, I will allow more time!

And off I ran …  in the now 976 degree heat.

Only to arrive at the gate and see the nice surprise of JP (who I met at the Nicaragua / Costa Rica border) waiting for the same flight…

He informs me that the flight is running 30 minutes  late…great!

JP heads for the tarmac.

I know it’s prohibited, but I am a picture-taking m-a-c-h-i-n-e by now…

Sacked out on the plane…

Landing.

Ah, Colombia. Land of coffee. Girls at the airport sit around with a thermos and will sell you a tinto.

After much confusion after landing (Adolfo is not waiting for me–wait, we did not see each other again in the Panama airport, so he does not know what flight I am on, does not know when I am arriving, does he even know my last name to ask for me?) — an hour later we run into each other and I rush up and surprise him with a hig. Sheesh. For a while there (an hour to be exact) I was a little worried…

Well, we’ve missed a valuable hour and cannot complete the bike paperwork tonight, so the airline agents (for the bikes) bring us to a local hotel. we order a chicken in a box–quite a curious thing–delivered,  no less– and have a good sleep.

The  next morning at the cargo office

I am greatly relieved to see my Suzi arrived safely and in one piece. wow, just two days apart and I realize I really missed my bike!

Sorry the pics aren’t that good…you are not supposed to take pic int he hangars…but how cool is this?!?!?

We repack the bikes, gather our paperwork

get directions to the local chuleco shop (these horrid orange vests that Colombian motorcyclists have to wear with their number plate on them–supposedly to eradicate drive-by moto-violence)

We get our chulecos made

And get directions out of Bogota.

January 28, 2010

Well today is an exciting day…my bike flies to Colombia!

But first, many errands, which I HATE!

1. Go by Suzuki (ugh!) and pay them (ugh!)
Turns out that Adolfo insisted to them when we got there that they change the gas in my moto. While Adolfo went out and bought me gas, the mechanic did an unbelievably thorough job of draining every last ounce of gas from my tank and carburetor. Yeah, it was painful to think of having to pay them for the (mis) service…and as it turned out, they gave me a bill for $26.50. Did I ask if that was just for draining the tank or for the labor of the previous day? Nope! I gaave them my credit card, signed, and got the heck out of there!

2. Pick up food for dinner.
Hostal de Clayton has a kitchen, and since I will be transportation-less in the middle of nowhere, I stop and buy eggs and cheese and milk–lazy bachelorette’s easy meal!

3. Get more chain lube.
I’ve taken to using “White Lithium Grease” in spray form because it sticks like mad to the chain, and because I can usually find it in a hardware store. Carlos Cucalon turned me onto it when in San Salvador as a good substitute for the normally crappy chain lube most motorcycle stores sell.

4. Chase down a “lonely Planet South America” book.
Most important since my hopes of finding a northbound traveler who wanted to exchange Central for South America fell through.

5. Repack
In such a way that all is secure on my bike, and my valuables are with me, and I have the “essentials” for a day or two without my bike.

I accomplish all this in my astonishingly small time allotted, and voila’! I am ready and waiting when Adolfo comes to collect me.

I finally get to meet Mrs. Sanchez

See? 981 degrees in Panama.
At least my hair is still pink

After moving the bikes a few times, a friendly but useless visit to the Aduana, with  me not having any official “exit” to Panama, we arrive at the cargo bay.

How come Marta is not wilting? She looks g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s. It’s just really unfair.

Adolfo chastises me that I am not supposed to take pics in here, but hey, no one is stopping me…

Finally after MUCH sitting around, about two hours worth (and Marta is still not wilting!) comes the moment of truth.

No, we do not want buckles rubbing on the  painted tank.
No, we do not want the tie downs attached to our clutch cables.
No, we do not want the bikes touching each other.
No, we do not want the tie downs strapped to anything but the frame…

Voila’!

Awww, shoot. I am sad to leave my bike.

…but happy to have taken the easy route to crossing the Darien Gap.

I follow Adolfo out of the Miraflores Locks (good-bye Panama Canal!) As we are leaving he tells me that before he retired he built one of the huge smokestacks for the powerful generators there at the Canal.

He rides that heavy Goldwing like a moped! i can hardly keep up!

First he brings me to the UPS shop where I collect my tires. Sadly, my Corbin seat has not arrived, so I will have to continue to suffer on the rock hard stock seat that comes with my model Suzuki.

I look like a gnarly adventuress, eh?

ha! I just realized that you can see the old tread of 8000+ miles on my used MEFO tires, and see how crisp the new tread is on the new MEFOs.

Well, I have to tell you my afternoon was a nightmare. I cannot possibly begin to tell you all the things that went wrong, but through a series of events I completely lost confidence in the mechanics at the Suzuki shop, nice as they were, and I refused to leave the bike and stop vigiance over the whole operation.

The sprockets they sold me had a different # of teeth than the ones I had (stock!) on the bike…
The chain they sold me had too many links and they did not know how to deal with it…
They did not have a tool to remove the pin in the chain links…
They did not have a tool to remove the chain and were talking about removing the swing arm to get the chain off…
They did not have a tool to open the chain that comes from Suzuki all in one piece…
They spent two hours looking all over town for a master link for when the DID ultimately figure out how to cut my chain…
I was freaking out!

Adolfo had left, and when I asked if I could call them to get a translation (and have him kick some Suzuki ass) they told me they could not call a cellular phone. We tried his house, but he was at work. it seemed in this country overrun with cell phone users, suddenly NO ONE in the entire dealership had a cellular I could call another cellular with. AND they did not have internet for me to call Edward again via Skype. ARGH!

I was freaking out!

And my blood sugar was extremely low. With all the fuss in the morning, I had had two cups of coffee (yeah, I UN quit!) and no food.

I finally just walked out, my bike expectantly waiting, while I walked to the local supermarket and got some food. I also bought a phone calling card so I could call Adolfo.

Back at the dealership. I tried to call Adolfo, but NO. I could not use the calling card from THEIR phone, I had to find a pay phone.

I walked back down the block in search of a pay phone in 976 degree heat in my motorcycle suit and gore tex boots, and when I finally found a phone, I could not read the numbers on the card nor the instructions. ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH.

OK, time to put on the Big Girl Panties and handle the situation myself.

I was conscious of the advancing time, and so I walked back to the dealership, and instructed them to change the oil on my bike while I thought things through…

They did not have oil, I had to go upstairs to buy it…
They did not know how much oil to put into my engine (I knew)…
The Suzuki dealer did not have motorcycle oil, they had car oil…
The Suzuki dealer did not have three quarts of oil…only two…I need 2.3 litres…
ARGH!!!

Yes, I was carrying some spare oil since Oaxaca, so I said 2 L of their oil, and .3 L of the MOTO oil I was carrying…I also fished out a filter I’d been carrying…

Oil change seemed to go OKAY, but I’d been obsessing about the chain and sprockets since OAXACA, and I felt compulsed to get them changed. I cannot explain it.  In hindsight I shoulda done my research (I have the Suzuki manual on my computer), left with the parts, and just found another shop along the way to do the work.

But I was not that smart. Instead I said go ahead.

At several points all work just stopped on my bike…I could not really understand it…

I was bored, agitated, and needed something to do.

I saw the rear tire off my bike and had an idea…since putting the tire back on myself is the hardest part of changing the tires, and since they were being paid to put it back on because of the sprocket change, I figured no work was bring done n my bike at the moment so I will did in and do it myself. the tires did not need changing yet; I’d ridden more than 8,000 miles and probably had another 3-4,000 miles left in them, but what the heck: new continent, new tires. AND I had to burn off some frustration.

This pic is for my sweetie, Edward, who taught me how to change tires…

Well, let me tell you this caused QUITE some consternation in the shop. What should they do? I mean, women do not do these sorts of things…so everyone, EVERYONE turned out to help. it was most frustrating. After much non-needed help and a lot of almost-harm (like a giant crowbar tat somehow materialized when I was not looking and almost bent my rims!!!) , I told them to stop and leave me alone, that it was actually easier to do it myself. That if you did it right, no force was needed…

Well then I had an audience of about 8 people. Swell. I finally put  one of them to work and had him take a pic.

Miraculously, work began again on my bike, after much consultation, managers, people in suits, conversation around the corner, I don;t know what all.

Cutting my chain (ouch! Itw as new in San Salvador and EXPENSIVE, and I wanted it intact as a space, but now it is missing a link= NO TOOL = GRRR) (note, I am not THAT silly: I have the other 8 links of that chain in my Trax box, but now I can ONLY use it is the shop has the OU&@Y&I^U&EWTYJWSGD!!!  tool, which this one did not have…)

Um…does it REALLY take 5 people for this?!?

Um…

Alas, I spare you the 200 other pics, which I took out of boredom, of between 5 and 8 people attending my bike at various points.

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I was at the shop until almost 8:00.
That would be 9, NINE, hours for a MAX two hour job.
Even the cashier had gone home. When I asked how I was to pay, they shrugged.

Oofa.

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I will say, however, that the folks were SUPER nice, and the manager that stayed late and helped the mechanic (they’d forgotten to adjust my chain with ME and MY LUGGAGE on teh bike, so I made them do it over!!!)

The manager led me to my hotel because I had NO idea how to find it. I offered to put gas in his moped, but he said it was full. Oh well.

For as long as I can remember I have been fascinated with the Panama Canal. It is one of the modern world’s true feats of engineering, and I just could not bear to leave Panama without seeing it. So I pushed back my appointment at the Suzuki dealer and decided to squeeze in an hour and a half visit of the Panama Canal.

Better than nothing I figured.

8:50
So I packed up the bike, said my good-byes at the hostal, and left. Well, almost left. Cough, sputter, no spark, nothing. Bike would not start. Not even with the “choke” trick from yesterday (even though it was 912 degrees). Must be the bad gas we got in the Darien. GRRR!

9:00
Ok, I got off the bike, took my motorcycle clothes off, gave the bike (and myself) a rest, and tried again. Still it would not start. ARGH! I was supposed to be meeting JP (we met at the Costa Rica border) at the Miraflores Locks (the best place to view the Canal AND where the tours happen to be). DRAT!

9:10
So in a huff I whip out the laptop, clump inside the hostal in my motorcycle clothes, and sit down. I knew Edward was online, and since he’s my mechanic when he’s my travel partner, I asked his advice. Dump the bad gas he says.

9:20
Great. But I do not have time for this. Time is ticking away, eating away the only hour and a half I had to see the Panama Canal. I do not know how to clean carburetors, much less have time to schlep to the gas station to get a container into which to pour the bad gas, nor a lace to get rid of the bad gas, so I can go BACk to the gas station to get fresh gas. ARGH! Frustration s HIGH.

Added to all this is the fact that I MUST get the bike fixed. I’d been looking in every city, calling every shop, between Oaxaca and Panama trying to find a chain and sprockets for my bike. I’d also had lots of local motorcyclists helping m look as well…Eduardo in San Pedro Sula, Honduras, had one of his shop guys look all day around Honduras for parts for my bike…they even went so far as to take the sprockets off and compare them to sprockets of other bikes all over town…

Now to you non-motorcyclists, understand that these are vital pieces, because they are part of the drive chain. If the sprockets fail, no more GO. I HAD to get this repair.

And my escort to the Suzuki dealership, Adolfo, was meeting me at the Miraflores Locks at 10:30. Adolfo is a fellow motorcyclist and a friend of a friend in the BMW motorcycle network in Central America, and in general a nice guy. We’d been corresponding a couple of weeks, and as it turned out he was going to make my life unimaginably easy by helping me with the flight from Panama to Colombia. He was also salvation in the form of a friendly face in frantic panama city, AND he’s been the one to figure out that the Suzuki shop has the arts I’d been looking for for over 3000 miles. So I NEEDED to meet him at 10:30. The pressure was immense.

oh yeah, and did I mention that our flight to Colombia was the next day? I HAD to meet Adolfo and 10:30 and I HAD to get to the Suzuki dealer. I also HAD to pick up my tires at UPS that Twisted Throttle had sent me. I did not need the new rubber yet thanks to the incredibly durable MEFO tires I’d been sporting all through Central America, but I needed to collect them nonetheless because shipping from the states is SO expensive.

OK, back to the bike…

9:30
I hung up on Edward, frustrated, and went back outside. Tried again to start, SHOOT! nothing. About this time another motorcyclist (German) came out of the hostal hearing my false attempts to start, and nicely offered advice as I did what Edward said would be the simplest thing to start with: drain the carburetor. OK, that I could do quickly and easily, so I got out the tools, performed the operation, and VROOM! Sputter.

9:40
Mr. Nice German told me to try again and this time Wank on the throttle. Ok, no more Ms Nice motorcyclist, the engine caught again and I revved the dickens out of the engine. Oofa, not a happy engine, but at least it was running.

9:50
Ok, a sweaty drippy mess by now, frantic beyond belief, I only had 40 minutes before meeting Adolfo

Vroom, off I coughed and sputtered to Miraflores

9:55

9:58
Stop at the guard gate at Miraflores and the guard wants to know what I want.
I WANT TO SEE THE FREAKING PANAMA CANAL. WHY THE HECK DO YOU THINK I AM HERE///??!?!?!?!?

10:00
I circle around the parking lot, trying to figure out where to go. Wait, another parking lot closer to the giant steps,

maybe there…

10:02
Cool! A slew of bikes–six, count ‘em, SIX KLRs. I’m the odd girl out.

10:04
Lock everything onto the bike, RACE up the stairs

to stand in line to buy a ticket.

10:10
Security asks if I am carrying any weapons. No. Knives, tools, any armas?

Sheisa. I have my multitool in one pocket and my pocket knife in the other

10:12
Race back down the stairs,

run to bike, open Trax box, insert “weapons”,

10:17
race BACK to the building, climb stairs,

wait in line at security, tell them I have no armas (different people this time)

Did I mention it was 957 degrees out and I am wearing a full motorcycle suit and leather / gore-tex boots?

10:20
wait at elevator

10:23
elevator door opens, JP pops out going to the “presentation” that I’d really like to go but cannot, dammit, because by golly I am going to get a photo of the freaking Panama Canal or end this trip right here, so I hop into overcrowded elevator

10:24
and arrive at the observation deck.

The overcrowded observation deck.

I look for a spot along the railing so I can see the excitement, and

10:25
See Igor crammed in between a bunch of other tourists.

I reach an arm in, $500 camera exposed over the railing, trying to get my gosh darned pictures.

Nice guy that he is, Igor relinquishes his spot at the railing to me, and I snap some pics. pretty incredible.

And.

And..

And…

10:30
I have to go.

AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I say goodbye to Igor, and thanks, and reluctantly go out to the bikes, back down the stairs

and as I am doing so I see Adolfo pulling in.

Better than nothing I figured. Enjoy my pics.

In the parking lot i (very briefly!) met two of the KLR riders. i said hello and left with Adolfo.

[A huge THANK YOU to my friend Igor who was a great travel companion into the Darien AND shared his photos with me.]

Finally, some pics of ME! (one of the hazards of traveling alone: precious few pics of yourself!)

Photo Credits: Igor

Oops…caught me!

Igor has a travel blog of his own on ADVrider.com. He is a great photographer.

http://www.advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?t=526389

Thanks Igor!!!