May 19-23, 2010

My flight from Buenos Aires stopped in Houston, where I cleared myself through customs. I’d been out of the country 7 months, had 26 extra pages tacked into my passport, and they only said “welcome home”. I DID ask for a stamp
and I got it.

Karen picked me up at the Sea-Tac airport, and brought me back to her place in Snohomish, North-West of Seattle. It was a sunny day, cool-ish, 70-ish, and I remember thinking it was a lot nicer here than in Buenos Aires. That night we went to an ADVrider meet & greet some nice folks had set up, and I got to meet lots of great motorbikers, Seattle locals. Timmer was going to help me at the airport, but Continental Cargo took their sweet time in getting the bike to Seattle even though it left BA 1 days before I did,

I remember being tired and wired at the same time, and I remember starting all my conversations in Spanish rather than in English. It was shocking to be back, but that only lasted about the three days I was here in Seattle waiting for the bike to clear customs.

I’d been offered lots of help with the bike, with things to do in Seattle, and even got to see a hand specialist for free thanks to ADVrider John Eicherman. Karen’s husband Burt brought me to the airport when I finally got the call saying the bike was here, and he helped me re-assemble it since I’d unbolted a whole bunch of stuff to make it “smaller” for transport.

By the time I hit the road Friday to ride to Idaho Falls and meet up with Edward, the weather had turned. Cold and getting colder, typical north-Wet weather. Everyone was telling me it was about 90 degrees the week before, and I was bummed. I had 890 miles to ride, it was CRAP weather, and I was exhausted and COLD.

I made it as far as Yakima the first night, arriving after 9 pm. I had an incredible stress headache, and I was staying with friends of friends, and basically landed on their doorstep, wilted on their couch, then shuffled off to bed.

The next day I rode around 500 miles on that little dirt bike, and finally stopped in Boise when it started to snow. enough was enough. I was soaked through, and knew I had a high pass to ride through and would stay at elevation for the rest of the ride (Idaho Falls is at 5000 feet) which was about 250-300 more miles…

I stopped at the first hotel I could find (see through the foggy visor and snow) and negotiated the rate down to $60. ugh. Wow. Back to expensive everything I guess. I took full advantage of the hotel room and turned the heat up to 85, dried everything out, did laundry, and tried to take the world’s longest shower. There was a TA Travel center next door and dinner there was advertised “second one free: so I had a roast beef open faced sandwich (the cheapest thing on the menu at $8) and then had another. I waddled back to the hotel and passed out.

I woke Sunday very early, but it was about 30 degrees out…even with the heated gear, 50 is my limit. I waited until 10 or so, doing internet, an rolled out when it was around 40 and I was still seeing my breath.

I got to Idaho Falls mid afternoon. Edward’s company had given us temporary housing at an airport hangar, and let me tell you I was impressed. When he told me that we’d be staying in an airport hangar I imagined pitching the tent in the middle of a big building, showing at the gym, or whatever. Nope, it’s NY loft meets tarmac central. There’s no windows, but it’s a great (posh!) space and we even have a kitchen.

Gosh, it’s great to see Edward again, and good to have a nice place to settle for a couple of weeks. Thanks sweetie for waiting SEVEN months for me to come back from my wild adventure…

Hm.
So what’s next?

http://rumbum.com/1009-argentinian-shakedown

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

http://rumbum.com/1066-where-anything-goes

http://rumbum.com/953-a-night-in-the-chaco#continue_post

March 8, 2010

I was feeling a lot better. My stomach was still empty and hollow,  my guts wrenched, but I was feeling up to a long day of riding (hopefully).

Ricardo had told me about a “private” road off the Panamericana that would lead me into Cañon del Pato. I was really looking forward to it, but also a little daunted because he said the turnoff was about at X km and I had to stop, make nice-nice with the guard, and ask if I could pass.

It was all quite easy, so easy, in fact, that I didn’t snap pics of the turnoff.

Wow. Super hard packed dirt road!

Yummy scenery. I’m all alone and cruising fast.

Wow, this green valley comes as a surprise.

Corn?

Ah. The source of the green.

A few km of pavement

Tunnels! Lots of them–I think over 40 in all. Pretty fun until you get into the long ones and realize there are no lights, and that  the trucks over time have made deep ruts through the only lane of passage. so you get in there, in the dark, and while your eyes adjust to the lack of light, you slip-slide up & down between the ruts, whoop-te-doo, in the dark, hoping you don’t crack yourself into one of the stone walls. Or worse, crash in the dark and be picking up your bike, in the dark,  when a truck comes.

That’s coal, folks. Being dumped into the river UPstream from the farms we previously saw.

Another coal mine further upstream. No wonder the river looks angry and dirty.

By now it’s 962 degrees, and I stop here to wet myself down.

A 4×4 er with UK plates passes me.

I get to La Esperanza and stop for more Gatorade. I am terrific-ly dehydrated, it’s hotter than blazes, by golly I o NOT want to put all the gear back on. But I do.

ATTGAT. All The Gear All The Time.

I am hoping to make it to Huaraz today–that’s the next stop on Ricardo’s “plan”.

It pays to look ahead…

Back onto pavement and it’s  bit of a relief, even though there’s a bit of construction.

These are the first flagger-women I have seen in indegenous dress.

I am headed to the Huaraz and have been promised my first glimpse of the Cordillera Blanca. It’s been a  long hot day. But at least I am climbing in altitude and it’s getting cooler. I haven’t been 100% today.

There they are! Snow!!!

Note to self: No more beef.

I get to Huaraz, find a decent hotel, shoehorn the bike in the lobby, and rest. I end up spending two nights here because it’s comfy and clean, and I am just drained. Huaraz is the trekking mecca of Peru, and it’s full of gringos. You can find everything you are looking for here, including the first Wifi I’ve found in a hotel since entering Peru. I’d gotten spoiled in all the other countries–the majority of the hotels had it.

March 5, 2010

Leimebamba – Celendin

After my tour of the Leimebamba museum,  I realized I’d better get gas before moving on. Looking at the map,  my  best bet was to go back to Leimebamba proper (the museum is om down the road 6-7 miles). I don’t like to back track but better safe than sorry.

Th fog had burned off and now the views were g-r-e-a-t!

Here’s the gas station…but nobody around despite much knocking on the shack door and beeping the horn.

Nobody home, so I ask some locals where to get gas, and they tell me the store off the main square (which covers a LOT of places, so I  to the square and keep asking who sells gas.

12 soles per gallon for 84 octane…

not a good deal, but I am relieved to at least have gas.

Filtered, too

Three gallons later I am  riding back down the road for the third time.

I like a challenge and eventually figure out a way to get around this beast.

The scenery is getting better and better. I am climbing and climbing.

And I get to this S-P-E-C-T-A-C-U-L-A-R view.

Can you believe it?

What a shame.

Here. I clean it up for all you non-trash-lovers.

I keep going.

So this day is turning into one of those I-can’t-believe-I-am-actually-on-this-trip-and riding-this-incredible-scenery-days. OMG! I keep pinching myself.

(These days are memorable: Devil;s Spine, Mexico, Jungles of Panama, returning from San Agustin to Cali. Hm. Seems about 1 per month.)

I get the to highest point and the neblina takes over.

Then on the other side I start to descend and it’s crystal clear again.

Pinch me. That’s my road.

Pinch me. That’s my road.

Pinch me. That’s my road.

Pinch me. That’s my road.

Pinch me. That’s my road.

Pinch me. That’s my road.

I am winding down like this for at least two hours . My Garmin is AFU (it’s had a mind of its own since the TAT trip last summer) so I don’t know how far it was or how high it was. Bummer. My curious mind would like to know.

I’ve been descending for at least 2 hours, and now it’s HOT. I am desperately thirsty and so I stop at the first village I encounter. I’ve been having so much fun I sail right through, then realize the village was about 5 houses so I’d better turn back.

The shopkeeper i fascinated with me and so is their dog …She invites me to sit down with the group of women and children, and they ask me questions for at least a half hour while I am suffering in the heat. I finally beg my pardon and continue on all sugared up from thee juice drink I bought.

Now its getting even hotter as I descend into the valley. Looks like I am headed for the river in between the mountain ranges. Did I already say it’s *&^^$$#@! hot?

Leaving the Amazon Region.

I get to this horrid little town.

Now if you have been following I always try to have something nice to say. But this place was freaking HOT, the people completely unhelpful, the gate was down across the river with no explanation other than “ask the police”, and not a single restaurant in town (5 in all!) would serve me lunch!!! I am not sure whether it is because I am a gringa, or what, but everyone had a story of why they did not have food, were no longer serving, etc.  I was hot, thirsty, terribly hungry now at 3:00, and I was pissed off after walking all over this town at every restaurant people sent me to asking for food. No, I did not want to buy cookies at the corner store (I should have!) I wanted REAL food. GRRR!!!.

Not even the batmobile could save the day.

So I go to the police station and ask if I can cross the bridge.

Sure. He opens the gate.

Muddy Ucky river. Grr. I am grumpy and relieved as heck to be getting out of ugly-ville.

Grrr. Cough. Cough. Cough. Construction. Dust. Ugh. Grr.

Wait…I start to climb…

The air gets cooler.

yeah, baby. My mood has improved

That’s my road!

That’s my road!

That WAS  my road!

That’s my road!

He he. I am now able to see the humor in the day.

That’s my road!

Ahead is Celendin. I get there at about 5 pm, and decide to stop for the day.

February 6 & 7

So the next day Cata and I met for breakfast…jugo de mora, juevos revueltos con perico, arroz and arepas. $2 each.

Popayan is a beautiful colonial town known for its whitewashed buildings.

Let’s take a tour…

My beautiful tourguide…

So back in Colomial timmes, Popayan had two bridges…one for the wealthy Spaniards, and another for the slaves. The one for the slaves was much lower and very often covered with water…

There’s a tiny replica of Popayan up on the bill aove the “real” town…kind of a tourist place…we went there too.

And I tried an oblea for the first time…
two wafers, with arequipe(a sweet sugar cane derivitave) and marmelade in between…

Kind of like fried dough at the state fair…

In the afternoon we head back to the factory for lunch with Cata’s folks, then we’re off agai through downtown Popayan to see if any of the (all closed) churches are now open…

Check this picture out…two things to note:

1. Look at the delicate flowers being transported on this little motorbike…

2. It’s a BIG DEAL to turn 15 in the Latin countries….huge coming-of-age party.

Well its rainy and wet and a good think I decided to stay another day.

I actually end up staying another TWO days…I really like Catalina and her family. Cata and I are fast friends, she’s like the  sister of my heart…not by blood but by choice. Plus looking back I guess I needed some “girl time”. I really miss my good girlfriends back home.

Day two breakfast: Tamales!

back to the factory…it’s Sunday and we bring lunch to the guard and to the dog.

I really respect the Villegas family and their work ethic and their commitment to being nice to their employees (and dog!)

Colombia has a definite moto culture!

So we’re riding down the bock and I see this guy in a doorway. I LOVE HIS HAT! i am mesmerized by it. We back up, and I ask him if I can take a picture of the hat.  It’s a part of the culture of one of the provinces in Colombia…I dig it.

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Ok, now take a close look at the signs on the street…arrows each directions…how on EARTH do you know, as a tourist, which direction to go?

Lunch…arroz con pollo…rice with chicken.

A selection of “typical” sweets…

February 4, 2010

Back out the Valley road back to the Panamericana.

Nice pass on the double yellow…

PEAJE.

The road was hot and flat and pretty straight. I rode through miles and miles of sugar cane fields.

Then I see this sign…I understand “tren” (train) but canero? i am puzzled…

Until I see this.

That’s right, folks. Count ‘em, FOUR semis full of sugar cane being bpulled by a single tractor. How do they steer such beasts?

Well they re downright FUN to pass…just take my advice and go fast enough so one does not pass YOU! With so many articulations they are wobbly beasts!

A cut sugarcane field…hence the “tren”. This one’s just been cut. They burn these fields afterwards–and most often they are right beside the road. I’ve been warned to be really careful when they are burning.

Next I get passed by this guy…I have to pass him again to make sure I saw that right…”Prohibited to transport women and children”…

Next I get passed by a 950 KTM Adventure.  He rides alongside making a variety of hand signals which I do not understand, and then I finally get it when he pulls ahead and pulls off the road. I do, too…

…and I meet Ricardo Rocco, owner of Escuela de Motos in Quito.  He’s headed into Cali, knows the town, knows some people there, and agrees to let me follow him. Where he’s going is just a couple blocks from the Cassablanca hostel I’ve been recommended to.

We arrive at Asturias Motors. Hs friends Sory Con and Jorge run Asturias, a repair chop for all makes and models of motorcycles. The place is bustling–it’s obvious they do a whopping businesss and know their stuff. They also have a shop next door that sells parts and gear for riders–an ideal combination.

On my way to the bathroom I take a tour of the bikes in the shop and fall in love with this one…they don’t import them into the UUSA so I can only dream of riding a Tenere in foreign lands…

Sory and Jorge checking out my bike. They ask if I have anything that needs fixing.

Well the pplace is a people-and-bike- magnet with the enigmatic owners and their riding buddies, all the travelers they help, locals whose bikes they service. Plus, Sory and Jorge are world travelers themselves, so theyy just attract cool motorcyclists. The crowd out front grows.

And grows.

And grows. It’s fun to be yakking with all these motorcycle people, many of which are going over maps with me, giving me ideas of where to go, things I cannot miss over the next few days.

Well finally the crowd dissipated, an ricardo and I packed up. Ricardo gave me his business card and invited me to Quito….luckily for me offering to meet me outside the City and escort me in (yeah! I hate cities–I always get so lost).  He led me to my hostal,  where I got the last bunk in a dorm room of 10 people for $9 I think. There were two other motorcycle travelers in the room–that was kind of cool. But I did not sleep well at all, too many people in too small a space. Plus everyone was partying til the wee hours.