Packed out and ready to go home

December 20, 2010

I got up early this morning and packed all my gear on the motorcycle and prepared to go to the airport. When Javier of Dakar Motos opened shop, he told me to unpack all my personal gear because the regulations would not allow the shipment of personal effects with the motorcycle. This was not totally bad news as there had been some doubt whether the airline could actually ship the motorcycle to the USA.

I unpacked everything that did not pertain directly to riding or fixing the bike. Mostly this was camping gear and personal clothing. That done, I rode the 20 odd miles to the airport cargo area.

I noted my mileage and I was 135 miles short of 15,000 miles on this trip.

I removed the windshield and mirrors to present a smaller package since I will have to pay for the cube of the bike.

I then helped guy prepare his bike for shipment tom Australia and waited my turn. Once we rolled my bike onto the shipping pallet, I removed the front wheel and let the air out of the tires. The tie down and shrink wrapping of the bike went fast.

I then caught a taxi back to Dakar Motos where I sorted and repacked the items I removed from the bike. My wish was to ship everything except a small backpack and a small bag with the bike. I really did not want to check any luggage on my fight. But not to be.

Now I had to evaluate what I was going to do since checking more than one bag incurs extra charges from the airline. I have at least two bags worth of stuff to pack. I decided I would donate my sleeping bag, bed sheet, mosquito net, slippers and anti-monkey butt powder to Dakar Motos. The sum value of these items are not worth the price I would have to pay for extra baggage. Now I am down to one bag I will have to check plus the original two I intend to carry on board.

Tomorrow morning I have to catch the train to downtown and pay the $1387.00 for shipping and then pick up my airway bill. After that I am free to catch another taxi to the airport and wait for my 9:30 p.m. flight to Huntsville via Atlanta - not cheap.

Argentina

December 19, 2010

Happy Birthday to my baby sister, Lisa; and to my sister-in-law Deborah.

I arrived at Dakar Motos on Thursday a day ahead of what I originally planned. I had received an email from Dakar Motos telling me they would reopen their shop a couple of days earlier than previously planned. There was nothing to keep me in Azul so I made the easy 200 mile ride into Buenos Aires. I wanted to be as close to the airport as early as I could be without undue expenses of staying in expensive hotels in Buenos Aires.

Dakar Motos is a husband and wife shop that caters to the overland motorcycling community and they are the folks who are coordinating the shipping of my motorcycle with the airlines.



While waiting here I have received updates from two different groups of fellow travelers I have met telling me they have incurred gasoline shortages on their way south to Terra del Fuego. Apparently, there is a labor dispute between the oil field workers and the petroleum companies. I’m just glad I only have 20 miles to go to the airport and I have enough fuel in my tank to make that. On another front: while we were eating dinner Friday night, there was a news item on TV showing where demonstrators had blocked the highway on the way to the airport. Maybe that will be cleared up by tomorrow. These demonstrators were supporting a group of squatters the government has been trying to evict from their squatter village for about two weeks. Last week four persons were killed during one of the squatters’ confrontation with the police.
That is the good news. Friday afternoon, Sandy, the lady at Dakar who is coordinating the booking of my bike shipment came to me and said she had good and bad news. The bad news was that there has been a change in the U.S. Government’s security rules on what will be allowed to be flown into the USA. Apparently, the new rules forbid the flying of certain personal effects. The shipping company said motorcycles fall under the personal affects category. Sandra said she lobbied hard that the motorcycle was a vehicle and not personal effects. Continental Airlines told her that they would probably ship the bike on Monday as scheduled, but that I may not be able to include my riding and camping gear in the shipment. At this time we just don’t know. If they rule that they will not ship my bike to the USA, then my options are to ship it to Mexico or Canada. Although neither one of those are good options for me, if it comes down to that I will select Canada.
I am not really worried about it because I think it will work itself out. Sure hope so since I went out on a limb and bought my personal ticket for a Tuesday night departure .– available seats were getting thin as Christmas week approaches
Now my observations on Argentina. I will spare you anymore stories on the vastness of the country, its flatness or the ever present winds.
Argentina is more European than I would have imagined. Much of the architecture is very central European looking. The majority of the automobiles on the road are European brands. The Japanese brands just have not made the inroads in Argentina that they have in the rest of the Americas. Seems the most popular brands are Volkswagen, Peugeot, Fiat and Renault. There are a sprinkling number of Toyotas, Fords and Chevrolets. Even most of the large trucks are European brands and surprising to me Volkswagen is a major player in this market.
Most stories open early, but then close for 1:30 p.m. to about 4:00 or 5:00 p.m. and then reopen until 9:00 or 10:00 p.m.
The Argentineans eat late. Most restaurants don’t open until 8:30 p.m. or later. Friday night a group of us went to a Parilla (BBQ place) for dinner. We arrived at about 8:30 and took about two and a half hours for dinner. As we were leaving a large group came in for their dinner. This was at 11:00 at night. No wonder they need a three hours of rest time in the afternoons.
The people have been extremely friendly and courteous especially to this non-Spanish speaking gringo. Everywhere I stopped, a group would come over and inspect my motorcycle and we would try our best at conversation about my trip. On parting they always wished me luck and good travels. Many times, I have had cars pass me with the driver or passengers giving me a thumbs-up. I have not felt threatened anywhere except by winds.
In the previous post, I mentioned the La Posta motorcycle club in Azul. I went by there one evening and hung around for about two hours. They were just a group of normal guys gathering to enjoy one another’s company. One was an appeals court judge, another was a lawyer, another was a cattle salesman, another was an office worker and a couple of more whom I did not get their occupation. We all had a couple of things in common – our fondness for motorcycles and an affinity of just hanging out with the guys (ladies pay attention.) Language is not barrier when people want to enjoy one another’s company.

Horizons Unlimited and beyond

Dec ember 14, 2010
I am in Azul, Argentina – about 180 miles southwest of Buenos Aires and the end of this epic ride. I will hold up here in Azul until Friday morning. I am scheduled to pack my bike out on Monday the 20th and hope to fly home the evening of the 21st. Dakar Motos with whom I am coordinating the shipping of my motorcycle is closed until the 17th so I think I am better off hanging around a smaller town than in Buenos Aires. It certainly is a lot less expensive. The hotel here is about $24 a night with good hot water, garage parking and a good internet connection.
I did not mean to leave everyone in suspense on my return from Terra del Fuego, but obviously I did with all the questions about me on the different forums I am following. So I will catch up on what I been doing since my last post.
December 8th.
I left Rio Grande early in the morning in hopes beating the winds on crossing the rough 75 miles of road that caused me so much concern on the way on the way down. The plan worked as the winds were only about half as strong as the day before – at least for the first 60 miles or so, but it still is a challenging road with all the wash outs and loose gravel. This time the wind was blowing from my left to my right so I had to endure about 50 yards of brown out from dust each time I met a large truck.
The crossing of the Magellan Straits was much smoother although this time I had to wait on the ferry for about an hour.


The weather was cold – high 30s to low 40s. Just before reaching the border north of the straits I rode through either a short hail or sleet storm. The ice was the size of peas, but stuck to the wind shield and face shield like snow.
All-in-all I had a pretty long day with the gravel, two border crossings – one has to leave Argentina, enter Chile and then on the opposite side of the straits leave Chile and reenter Argentina. It is like you have never been through there before. The only delay was reentering Argentina as I was in line with everyone else who was on the ferry. The winds north of the straits were again approaching 100 km an hour so by the time I finished the 440 miles and reached Puerto San Julian I as beat. Good reason not to publish any details of the day. I stayed at the same the same hotel I had stayed at on the way down. When I walked in the girl behind the desk gave me the look of surprise like I was the prodigal son returning home.
Why beat ones self down by riding so far in such brutal conditions? Most of the towns on this strip through Patagonia are 60 to 100 miles apart and most do not have lodging. My experience was that lodging was available on average at about the 250 mile point, so one either rides 250 miles or one ride 500 miles. The other reason is that I wanted to make a Horizons Unlimited motorcycle meeting in Viedma that began on Friday the 10th.
Horizons Unlimited is an internet forum site that is supported and followed by motorcyclist who are planning on or are actually touring various parts of the world. I attended two HU meetings before – one in North Carolina and one in Mexico. They are always interesting and one meets kindred spirits who are from the far flung corners of the world.
To make the start of the meeting, I would have to do a little over 550 miles the next day and then a little over 300 on the 10th – can’t do two 400 mile days because the available lodging is either 550 and 300 or 250 and about 700.
December 9.
I decided on the long day first so I left San Julian early in a wind that was just as strong as it was the evening before – that’s not a good omen for the day because the winds always increase as the day progresses.
It was true - the winds became so strong it was all I could do to keep the bike upright on asphalt. Sand and dust was blowing across the road reducing visibility to about one mile. I started weighing my options on making this the short day and trying for better weather on Friday. I would just have to miss the starting day of the motorcycle meeting, but this was not a big deal. When I stopped for fuel, I had to lean against bike to prevent it from blowing over. I stopped for fuel again in Commodore Rivadavia which was at the 250 mile point. I needed a lunch snack and needed to use the restroom, but again I had to stay with the bike to prevent it from blowing over. I’ve never seen winds like this!
I made up my mind. It was definitely unsafe to continue riding in these conditions. With eyes full of sand I sought a hotel. The one I found was a dump – I don’t mind staying in dumps if the prices reflect dump conditions but this was not the case with this downtown hotel. The price for the room was $50 for an eight by ten with the bath down the hall. I was still going to take it but then they told me I would have to pay another $12.50 to park my motorcycle in a commercial parking garage. I considered that situation unsecured and decided I would cast safety concerns aside and ride the remaining 250 miles to my original destination.
Back into the wind and all that it entails. Ones shoulder and neck muscles get so sore from the wind pushing against the helmet. Have someone push on your head while you hold pressure against the pushing, do this for five minutes – now think about doing this for seven or eight hours.
It was nearing dark when I arrived in Trelew in a light drizzle. When I removed my helmet, I noticed the face shield had a light coating of mud on it and all the cars were the same way. The drizzle had mixed with the blowing dust to create what I called a muddy brown coating of everything.
I stayed in the same hotel in Trelew that I stayed in on the way down, and again I received the big broad grin of the girl behind the desk when I walked in.
Again too beat to do anything other than call home.
Dec 10.
I rode the 300 or so miles to Viedma and then the 20 miles to the coast where the HU meeting was being held. Although the meeting was being held in a campground and I have my camping equipment with me, I wimped out and selected the hotel next door to the campground. I was winded out and did not want to try and put up a tent in 40 mile an hour wind, and a forecast that was to be two degrees above freezing the next day.
Even the Argentines at the meeting were complaining about the weather which was apparently unusual for the time of year. Several events to include rides and a barbeque were cancelled. It did not matter. It was still a good gathering. I was the only American (USA type), there were three Canadians from British Columbia, a Finnish couple, an Austrian, an Italian (whom I had met the previous week at Dakar Motos), a German couple, two more Germans, two from Great Britain, a guy from New Zealand and our Argentine hosts – Oscar and Nancy Knecht. Several of the hosts motorcycling friends drifted in and out over the next couple of days. There was also a German couple staying at the hotel. They were touring Argentina by bus. The guy just so happen to own a motorcycle like one of my BMW’s. Fortunately for me, everyone spoke English.








When the German couple, Patrick and Jana, arrived, one could not helping but notice one of the saddlebags on the girls bike was barely hanging on with bungee cords. As soon as they removed their helmets, Patrick asked if there was somewhere he could get the bag repaired. The girl had crashed a couple of days before ripping the entire mounting side from the saddlebag. Oscar told them there would be no one available on the weekend to do any aluminum welding. I looked the bag over and told the Patrick that I could probably repair the bag with items I had with me. We agreed we would attempt this the next day.
With an 8 X 10 inch sheet of Lexan, a tube of Shoe Goo, two tubes of JB Weld, a tube of Weld-it, several cable ties and several screws and nuts, I began working on the bag. The first decision was to reverse the bag and move the mounting points to the opposite side. At first we did not have a drill to drill the necessary holes and I could not drive a hole through the aluminum with a hammer and screwdriver. Out with the trusty Swiss Army knife and I opened the punch and reaming blade then used the hammer to hit on top of the knife until I punched a hole then continued reaming and filing until the hole was large enough to accept the mounting bolts. I did two holes this way. Then Oscar went and borrowed a drill from the campsite owner to the relief of my Swiss knife. This made all the difference as we were now able to bolt the sheet of Lexan over the torn side of the bag. We drilled holes through the bottom of the bag and the lower sides then used cable ties to stitch the two parts together. Once all the fasteners were attached, I used the epoxies and strips of beer can aluminum to patch over the holes and seal some of the seams. Then with healthy amounts of duct tape we declared the bag good enough. It looked like something from Frankenstein, but now Jana could put some of her luggage in the bag and rebalance her load. Jana, who had a perpetual smile on her face, told me that one of her heroes was MacGyver and that now I was her personal MacGyver. It made my day.









On Sunday we did a group ride to view a sea lion colony along the coast and then had a group luncheon.
Dec 13.
The HU group said their goodbyes and each went their own way. I was the only one going north and most of the others we riding to Ushuaia. I just hope they have better winds than I had.
I rode 300 miles to Tres Arroyo where I intended to spend the night in the same town as I stayed in on the way down but a different hotel so I could get an internet connection. The other hotel wanted $85 for a single so again I decided to ride on. I rode another 120 miles to where I intended to go the next day. Hotel here is $24 a night and meets all my requirements.
In Azul, there is a motorcycle club called La Posta, which is famous for its hospitality to traveling motorcyclist. It was recommended to me. I stopped by there on the way into town and paid my respects. I was told I could camp there for free for as long as I liked, but I really wanted something with an internet connection and within walking distance of restaurants and stores. That is how I was directed to this hotel. I promised I would go back today and hang out with the owner of the club – Pollo.

Terra del Fuego and Ushuaia

Today I made it to the end of the road as far as going south, but first I need to catch up with what has happened since arriving in Buenos Aires.
Dec 3:
I had to make a decision on whether to buy a new rear tire or not. I estimated that I had at least 2000-2500 miles left on my rear tire. I had a ride of 2000 miles down and 2000 back ahead of me, so obviously somewhere I was going to have to buy a tire to complete my trip. I hate to waste good miles on a tire, but my choices were to buy the tire from Javier at Dakar Motos – where I was staying – and have him mount the tire or buy the tire there and take it with me and mount it myself once the other tire was gone. I decided on the safe and easy solution – let Javier mount the tire.
In the process of removing the old tire, Javier pinched my tube and broke off the valve stem. He announced to me that I needed a new tube. No problem we’ll use the tube I have been hauling around since Africa in 2003. The tire was mounted and I said my goodbyes to Roger and departed at 10:30 a.m. With a couple of missed turns and traffic congestion rivaling Los Angeles, it took me two hours to get the 30 miles out of town. After that I rode another 300 miles before stopping in Tres Arroyo – about 100 miles further than I was told that I could expect to travel that day. Out in the country I passed lots of big farms with wheat crops that may have covered that more than 1 million acres. This is a big country and is sparsely populated expect for about 10 medium-to-large cities.
Dec 4
The ride further south took me into Patagonia. Patagonia is famous for its strong winds and wide open pampas. The crop land gave way to range grasses and then scrub bush similar to western Texas. This is mainly sheep farming country with lots of wild guanacos and some emus. The guanacos are similar looking to the vicunas we saw in Peru and Chile, but the guanacos are larger. They are about the size of a horse and have a long neck like a llama. They were constantly crossing the road in front of me and would jump the six foot high roadway fences from a standing start.
I rode 550 miles today. Searching for a hotel in Trelew, I noticed my drive chain was skipping over the sprockets when I would start from a stop. I had tightened the chain about a week earlier so obviously it was stretching and nearing the end of its life. I decided that I would wait until the next morning to tighten the chain – it was already after kick-off time for the Auburn-South Carolina game and I wanted to catch the game trax on the internet (gotta have your priorities.) Did Auburn kick their butt or what – now on to Oregon?
Dec 5
I began to experience the famous Patagonian winds. Today I would guess the winds were anywhere between 30-45 mph. I was in a constant right lean of about 20 degrees just to maintain a straight tract. About mid-morning I noticed the drive chain was excessive loose again, so again I tightened it and noticed the worn chain was beginning to round the teeth on the drive sprockets. I knew then that at the end of the day I would have to replace the chain and possibly the sprockets. I have the old chain and sprockets, which I replaced just before starting the trip, with me. At 38 miles from this service station I lost drive power and knew that the chain had either broken, jumped off, or the sprocket teeth had given way. My immediate concern was to get to the shoulder of the road and get stopped before the chain had a chance of locking up the rear wheel – I had that happen on my old Honda 150 when I was a teenager and did not want to experience that pain again. After stopping and looking things over, the chain had jumped off the rear sprocket and in the process had broken the master link with its retaining clip gone. When I had ordered this chain, the company graciously included an extra master link for connecting the two ends of the chain – now where did I haven it stored? I pulled my old chain from the bottom of the saddle bag and took it from a wrapper – thankfully, I had placed the master link in the same wrapper. I had to loosen the wheel to replace the chain, but the whole operation took only 30-45 minutes. I decided the sprocket would be fine for a while but would bear some watching. By the time I reached Puerto San Julian, I was beat. The winds had increased to about 50 mph at steady state and with gusts increasing that. I decided I would leave early the next morning and try to get some mileage under my belt before the winds picked up very much.
Puerto San Julian is the safe harbor that Ferdinand Magellan took refuge in for the winter of 1520.
The next summer he discovered the Straits as a passage between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans without having to go around Cape Horn. The Straits are named for Magellan and today belong to Chile. Tomorrow I will catch a ferry across the Straits of Magellan.
Dec 6,
Happy Birthday to my daughter April. I love you.
Guess I underestimated these Patagonia winds. I was up at 0530 and on the road by 0630. The winds were just as strong in this morning as they had been the evening before. I am 600 miles from Ushuaia and in hopes I might make it today but doubt it. The winds have been brutal for two days, but today they are nothing short of hellish.
I have to exit Argentina and enter Chile as Chile owns the northern half and western half of the Terra del Fuego Island. At the Argentine border station, I park where a female soldier told me to park. I was in the customs building for about five minutes when the soldier came in and sheepishly told me that my bike had blown over. I left my place in line and went out to check on the motorcycle. She was lying full on her side and leaking fuel. I noticed the handlebars were against the curb – not good! I picked the bike up and inspected for damages. The only thing broken was the homemade wind guard I had attached to the hand guards. There goes $1.88 worth of Lexan and about 30 minutes worth of work –not to mention soon good redneck engineering. Back in the building to process out of Argentina and then the couple of hundred yards to process into Chile.
I arrived at the ferry crossing of the Magellan Straits just as the ferry was docking. Within twenty minutes we were on our way for a rough fifteen minutes of crossing. About ten miles south of the straits the pavement ended.
For the next four hours, I endured what may be the most challenging time of my life and I do not say this lightly. I rode 100 miles of the roughest road I have ever ridden and this was not helped by the fact I missed a turn and went 20 miles out of the way and had to back track that section. Most of the road was hard packed gravel about the size of golf ball to baseball size. This section was bone jarring washboard, but it was better than the 1/3 which freshly graded. The graded section left the entire road way with large loose stones. Normally, neither of these conditions present a problem but with winds that I later found out were clocking a constant 115 km per hour (folks that is 70 mph.) Most of the time, I was leaning anywhere between 30 and 45 degrees and would still be blown clean across the road. Every time a met another vehicle, I could only pray that I would not be blown into its path. Several times I nearly went down and once was certain I was crashing. By instinct I put my foot down and miraculously it righted the bike with a few wobbles. When riding gravel one has to make a compromise between having enough speed to get on top of the gravel and let gyroscopic effects help, or going too fast and losing control and suffering a high speed crash. One gets the feel for what is right, but I have never had to experience the compromise in 70 mph winds. One does not stop or slow down too much in these conditions because to do so will certainly result in being blown over. Along the way, my engine sputtered and I knew my main tank was out of gas. I was able to switch to reserve without stopping and taking the chance of being blown over.
When I reached San Sebastian on the Chile side of the Chilean side of the border, I saw a sign for a hotel. I pulled in. The owner told me the price was $54 US and that the next place was 60 miles away and that it was 7 more miles of gravel till the Argentina border station. I just didn’t have 7 more miles of gravel and a border crossing in me much less 60 more miles. I took his room at robbery prices for a room with a bathroom down the hallway, no hot water, no internet, and electricity that would not be turned on until 7:00 p.m. I poured in one of my two spare gallons of gas to make sure I would get to the Argentine gas station the next morning. I took a shot of rum to cut the tension and fixed myself two peanut butter and crackers – man has this jar of Peter Pan stood the test of time. Then I went to bed with my clothes on. I was thankful to still be in one piece, but knowing I had to travel back over this same section of road in the next day or so. Later, I noticed the lights on and I got up and removed my outer clothes and went back to bed. I had the best night of sleep I had had in a week.
Dec 7
Got up early to try and beat some of the wind. It was 300 yards to the border station and while in there it began a light rain. The temperature was 39 degrees with a wind of about 40 mph. I have no idea what the wind chill was, but it was cold. The 7 miles to the Argentine border station was easy gravel. After getting processed through I stopped for fuel at a station that adjoined a hostel on the Argentine side – the Chilean hotel owner had lied about the nearest place to spend the night.
About 30 miles down the road, I stopped and put on two more layers of upper clothing – now 7 layers. I also plugged in my electrical gloves which kept my hands warm. It was 188 miles to Ushuaia and it went without incident except for the bitter cold. About 50 miles north of Ushuaia I noticed most of the mountains had snow on their slopes and the slopes were basically at the same altitude I was riding – maybe that was why I was cold. In Ushuaia I went straight to the National Park and paid my $15 to get in so I could ride to the end of the park and take my photo at the end of the road sign.
Why go to Ushuaia? It is promoted as the most southern city in the world. In fact, Puerto William in Chile is a little further south, but it is a military base and inaccessible by road. Therefore, Ushuaia is the destination for all the nuts like me who want to say they went there. Kind of like riding to Prudhoe Bay in Alaska. Anyway, I made my goal which was stated before I left home.
Back in the city of Ushuaia, I checked out an ATM and then bought a few souvenirs and decided I could make it part of the way back to Buenos Aires. Nothing to keep me in Ushuaia since I am not much of a guy just to hang around for the purpose of hanging around. Guess I’m more of the “get the job done and move” type.
I rode 120 miles back to Rio Grande where I am paying $65 for a room, but hey it has internet, hot water and electricity. One of the first things one notices about Terra del Fuego is that everything is more expensive here except gasoline which is about $1.00 a gallon cheaper. Guess everything is like Alaska – it is at the end of the food chain.
I will post pictures to this item later when I get a better internet connection. To use this internet, I am standing in the hotel’s instrument closet and holding the computer in my hand while being hardwired to the router.
Gary

Angels in our midst

Up front: I believe in Angels and believe the Lord will send them to his children as protectors and as helpers.
There have been too many instances in my life where coincidence or sheer luck cannot explain the protection or help I have received. This is especially true as I have travelled through the third world.
As I began this trip, Wendy – my daughter – posted on her Facebook page asking all her friends to send Angels to her father as protection on my trip.
Time and again as we have been at wits end on how to navigate through a city, someone has approached us and in very good English asked if we needed help. They proceeded to direct us in the way we needed to go.
Nine years ago during a motorcycle trip to Panama and back, my riding companion and I arrived in Chepo Panama as dark was setting in. We were looking for a hotel and were told by a gentleman whom approached us on a dead end street that there was no hotel in the town. He offered to put us up in his cabin for the night. Very reluctantly we accepted. The gentleman was Eric Galbraith and he was a retired US Army civilian. When we told him of our next day’s plan to ride to the edge of the Darien Gap, he told us we should not do that because of recent bandit activity on the road we planned to travel. We took his advice and he offered to escort us back to Panama City and to provide us a tour of the Miraflores locks on the Panama Canal. As a result of his unexpected kindness, we established a hard friendship that has endured.
On this trip, we wanted to visit Eric as we passed through Panama. Even though we had his phone number and address, we did not have a clue on how to locate his home in a city of 1.5 million. Our GPS maps were very vague for this part of the world. I called Eric when we crossed the border into Panama and told him about what day we would arrive in Panama City. He told us his home district and asked if we had ever heard of the “Blue Goose.” I told him we had not. He stated that it was a house of ill repute where one could buy ladies, and that he lived nearby.
We left the northern city of David Panama early on the day we told Eric we would arrive in Panama City. We wanted to arrive in the city early to provide time to try and locate Eric’s home. At a mid-morning break, Roger’s bike failed to crank. We spent an hour that we thought we could ill afford going through various checks of safety switches on his bike. This included disconnecting the clutch lock out switch, and splicing into the side-stand safety switch to check the circuit. After several attempts at starting, Roger noticed that he had accidently turn off the engine kill switch when he had stopped for the break. This is something that he normally does not do.
On the road and running late, we stopped at the first convenience store in Panama City after crossing the Bridge of the Americas. Roger went into the store to buy some drinks. While he was in the store, I approached a group of workmen and asked them if they knew the address Eric had given me. Even though none of them spoke English, they indicated to me that the Abajo District where Eric lived was bad. They indicated for me to wait, and one of them went into the store and brought out their friend and workmate. The gentleman they brought out was a giant and spoke English. He introduced himself as Mack, just like the truck – he was nearly as big. I asked him if he could give us directions to the Abajo District and that if he had heard of the “Blue Goose.” He corrected me by telling me it was the “Gruta Azul” – Spanish for Blue Goose- and that it was not a safe place nor was the Abajo District a place we should visit. I told him I had a friend that lived on 3rd Avenue in that district and that I intended to visit him. Mack told us that he lived on 5th Avenue in the Abajo District. He told his workmates to go home without him because he was hiring a taxi to take him home and more importantly to escort us to the “Blue Goose.” Thankfully, the taxi driver took mercy on us and took it easy transitioning the city through its maze of streets. True to Mack’s promise, he delivered us to the front door of the “Gruta Azul.” He then questioned our sanity again for wanting to come to the Abajo district and wanted to know if we really knew this friend of ours that Mack thought was meeting us for ladies at the “Gruta Azul.” I finally got Mack to understand that we were not meeting Eric for a night of ladies entertainment, but that Eric had given me the name of the Blue Goose as a reference point to get near his house. Mack used his cell phone to call Eric and vet him to make sure it was okay for us to go there. After the phone conversation, Mack directed the taxi driver to Eric’s house. Mack still would not let us out of his care until he met and spoke with our friend Eric.

Even though we were only going to visit for a short while, our friend Eric insisted we spend the night. We went to dinner together and to breakfast the next morning. Eric had to leave the city for that day, but he insisted we take the keys to his house and remain for another day. He kindly refused as we had to get on the road.
Sometimes we do not understand the Lord’s timing, but he has it perfect. How did we know the hour’s delay working on Roger’s bike would put us directly in the care of Mack? What are the chances that this chance meeting of Mack would be someone who lived two streets over from our friend Eric?
While in Peru, I became terribly ill. We had to delay one day’s riding as was in bed all day. I was suffering from diarrhea, extremely high body temperature and occasional chills. I was self-medicating, but not much was happening in the way of improvement. The second day, I thought I felt like riding, but at the end of the day I was almost too weak to continue. I had not eaten in three days, and was on the verge of being distraught. I thought of my friend Lori Elrod. Lori is a nurse at the Huntsville Hospital. She is one of the most caring persons I know. For more on Lori please read this news article at this link http://blog.al.com/breaking/2010/10/cancer_survivor_lori_elrod_say.html. I decided to email Lori and tell her my symptoms and what medication I was taking. I really did not feel like typing the email, but I knew I had to do it. At the end of the email, I told Lori I needed an Angel and that she was then one I was calling on. I did not know when Lori would receive the email, but within the hour after sending the email I began feeling better. I did not receive Lori’s response to until the next morning, and by then I was much better except for all the fever blisters I had. Lori’s angelic healing touch had spanned time and distance to provide me protection and healing.
I know this has been long-winded, but I wanted my followers to know about some of my encounters with Angels. I pray you will have Angels protecting you as you go through life.Gary

Buenos Aires and the separation

Dec 3, 2010

Firstly, I would like to wish my sister, Marcia, an early happy birthday. May not have internet tomorrow.

The passed two days we rode the 800 miles from Iguazu Falls to Buenos Aires. The ride was basically uneventful except for our second encounter with crooked cops during this trip. We were accused of speeding and may have been, but his region is noted for crooked cops. Anyway we were fined an amount that would be excessive by any standard for doing what they said was 12 mph over the 50 mph speed zone.

Buenos Aires is a city of 17 million and is not place for a country boy from Elkmont. As one can imagine it is a very busy place.

We are currently at Dakar Motos in Buenos Aires. The owners, Javier and Sandra, cater to the adventure motorcyclists. They provide storage, a bed (dorm style), maintenance services, and more importantly bookings for shipment of the motorcycles back to the states.

Today, I will have a new rear tire mounted and then continue my trip south to Terra de Fuego alone.

Roger's shoulder has been giving him fits and he thinks it is best that he flies home to seek some medical attention. He hopes to get his bike booked for Monday or Tuesday departure and either a Tuesday or Wednesday flight to Atlanta.

My trip to Terra del Fuego is approximately 2,000 miles down and an equal number back. I'm hoping to do this ride in two weeks and try to get home by Christmas day if the ride and the shipping go okay.

War Eagle beat Carolina.
Go Army, Beat Navy.
Gary

Iguazu Falls

November 30, 2010

Today we visited Iguazu Falls. The Falls are on the Iguazu River which means big water. It certain holds true to its name. The Falls are bordered by Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. We visited from the Argentina National Park.

There are over 275 individual cataracts where the water plunges in awesome sprays. It is said that when Eleanor Roosevelt visited these falls that she commented "poor Niagara." We can echo Ms. Roosevelt's comments.

We are going to let the photos speak for themselves and trust me they do not do this natural wonder justice.

IN AWESOME WONDER!

Anaconda Copper Mining, A National Coup, and Gary DuBois

November 29, 2010

What do these subjects have in common?
First: A little simple history.
In 1970, Salvador Allende was elected president of Chile with a minority of the votes. He was the first freely elected Socialist president in the Americas and maybe the world. This was during the Cold War between Communist USSR and Capitalist USA. The USA already had Cuba as a Communist thorn in its American side. The USA feared that another Socialist government that was friendly to Communist Russia would adversely affect the balance of power and also would be another base to forment other Socialist/Communist takeovers in the Americas.
President Allende campaigned on nationalizing foreign owned industries within Chile. Copper mining was and still is the major industry in Chile. At the time of Allende’s ascent to the presidency of Chile, Anaconda Mining and Kennecott Mining owned most of the Chilean mining operations. There were other major industries involved in other sectors of the economy most notably that of International Telephone and Telegraph (ITT) control of national telecommunications.
Allende and his government nationalized these industries without compensation to the previous owners. Allende’s major attempts to socialize the economy made the economic situation in Chile worse and there were national strikes. The military, along with major assistance and encouragement from the US CIA and money from the ITT and the mining operators, staged a coup d’état and overthrew the Allende government.
As a senior at Jacksonville State and trying to get my degree on a shoestring budget, I did one of my term papers in International Relations on the election and overthrow of Salvador Allende. At that time I never dreamed I would have the opportunity to visit the old Anaconda Mine in Chuquicamata Chile - the ownership of which was one of the prime issues in the overthrow of a president.
The mine is now called the Codelco Norte mine and is still owned by the Chilean government. This is the largest open face copper mine in the world. It is 4700 meters long, 3000 meters wide and 1000 meters deep. Codelco is no longer making the mine any deeper as it takes the monster trucks too long to climb the six miles out of the winding road to the top. Current mining at this site is being done underground with the use of conveyor belts to get the copper ore to the trucks at the bottom of the mine.
There are 100 of these large trucks which can haul between 310 and 440 tons each depending on the model. Seventy-five of the trucks are in twenty-four hour a day service with the other twenty-five being rotated through scheduled maintenance.
The trucks consume three liters of diesel a minute. The fuel tanks on the largest trucks hold 4000 liters. (Ms. Debbie’s fourth grade class: I want you to tell me how many hours one truck can operate on one tank of diesel. No calculators please. I know it is a reading problem, but get used to it – life is a reading problem.)
The tires on these trucks are over ten feet tall. The Toyota mid-size pickups that are servicing the large the large trucks look like midgets.
It takes 100 tons of copper ore to make one ton of copper. The process takes 14 days.
To say I enjoyed my tour is an understatement and completes a circle for me that took nearly 40 years.

Chile to Argentina

November 28, 2010
Obviously, we have a bit of catching up to do.
To be honest we gave Chile short riff, only riding through the extreme northern section of the country. We rode through the northern section of the Atacama Desert which is one of the driest regions on earth. One of the communities we passed through was Quilagua which our tour book lists as the driest spot on earth. Couldn’t say I would disagree with this.

As we neared Calama we passed the Codelco Norte copper mine at Chuquicamata. This is the old Anaconda mine and is the world’s largest open pit copper mine. I checked on doing a tour and was scheduled for the next day as we were to late for the current day’s tour. We rode to San Pedro de Atacama where Roger graciously agreed to hold over for an additional day so I could tour the mine. More on the Anaconda mine and my interest in it in a later post.
San Pedro de Atacama is a dusty little tour with all dirt roads but has become sort of a hippie hang out and a place to base tours for some of the notable regions of the Atacama such as the Valley of the Moon. Yes, we both rode through this section, but quite honestly it only looked like a very much smaller section of the Badlands National Park in South Dakota.
We camped in San Pedro which was the first time we set up our camping gear on this trip. The night air at 10,000 feet was nothing short of brisk.
Even though San Pedro is 100 miles from the border with Argentina it is the last Chilean outpost and one must clear immigration and customs in San Pedro if going to Argentina or Bolivia from there. The process of clearing was probably as easy as we have encountered on this trip.
The trip over the Jama Pass carried us parallel to the Bolivian border for several miles and through the highest point we will experience on this trip – over 16,000 feet. The Bolivian government requires U.S. citizens to pay a $135 entry fee for a Visa and for this reason we did not go to Bolivia not to mention it would have added one more border crossing to our stress level for borders.

Near the top of the pass, a quick fix for a nail puncture with slime that we had performed on Roger’s rear tire gave way. He rode a couple of miles on a flat tire to find a suitable place to get off of the road. He plugged the tire and we were on our way again – it continues to hold at this point.

It probably didn’t matter because the entry into Argentina was nothing short of painful. There were long lines for personnel only entry and a long line for entry with a vehicle. There were six stations we had to pass though and get our required stamp at each one, but before we ever entered the building we witnessed two near fights between the border officials on how they would handle the long lines. I spent three plus years in Naples where queuing for lines can test the best western mind, but I don’t think I saw anything to rival chaos at the Jama border station. It gets better! At the last station after waiting for about ten minutes for the official to show at his duty station, we were presented with a fat official who obviously was more interested in the latest Futbol news on ESPN than he was in processing our forms. Finally, he processed the forms and hit the print button. The printer either jammed or was out of toner. After ten minutes of this no-good and his supervisor messing with the printer, the supervisor took over the work station and loaded a new chip and directed our print queue to another printer. Two hours at this border station.

From Jama Pass we began our descent out of the Andes and at times the descent was quite steep with multiple switchbacks.
Much of the ride down the mountains reminded me of northern Arizona with the red in the mountain slopes and the various landscapes. One small resort village was very much like Sedona Arizona.
Yesterday and today we paralleled the Paraguayan border as we rode through flat non-descript landscapes. We did not enter Paraguay as they require a complicated visa processing for U.S. citizens. The difference was that yesterday the temperatures were between 95 and 100 degrees with a light crosswind. Today was an all day ride in cool temperatures but with a crosswind that would rival anything I ever experienced in crossing a similarly flat Kansas landscape.

We are one day’s ride from Iguazu Falls which we expect to be the scenic highlight of our trip.

Thanksgiving

Tried to post this las night and could not get an internet connection. The thoughts are the same a day later.

To all our followers, friends and family an early Happy Thanksgiving.
Being it will be Thanksgiving in the USA in a few hours, I would like to list a few of the things I am thankful for.
Firstly, I am thankful we are out of Peru. Although Peru has some of the friendliest folk I have anywhere, I felt our lives were in constant danger from the traffic and animals/people on the roads. One could never let their guard down. Chile is a much more relaxed riding environment and we expect Argentina to be likewise.
I am thankful the Lord has provided me with the health and means to pursue such off-the-wall challenges.
I am thankful the Lord has sufficient Grace to Save a wayward sinner such as myself.
I am thankful for all m y friends around the world.
I am particularly thankful for my wife allowing me to leave home for such a long stretch of time through the middle of the winter. Angie, I love you!
I am thankful for my extended family that supports me in my wild pursuits even though they surely do not understand why I do such.
Every time I travel in the third world, I realize how fortunate I am to live in a country where we have freedom of thought and freedom of movement. If you live in such a country and it does not have to be the USA, you should also be thankful.
I am particularly thankful for our military families around the world who serve their countries with honor, regardless of the current regime and its current thinking whatever that may be. It is always the bane of the soldier to salute the flag and say “Yes Sir.”
Around the dinner table tomorrow, take time and remember the things you are thankful for.
Gary

Chile Today, Hot Tomorrow

November 23, 2010

First - Happy Birthday to my brother Jackie - man we are all getting old!

Yesterday we rode from Puno/Lake Titicaca Peru in the High Andes to Tacna Peru on the coastal desert. We rode over 400 miles - by far long our longest ride in Latin America. The riding was really good through long sweeping curves and very little traffic.
Our ride began at over 12,000 feet and went up to where we spent most of the morning above 14,000 feet before dropping down to a low of 482 feet and then climbing back to an average of 2000 feet for the remainder of the day. Again we saw many herds of llamas, alpacas and vicunas in the high plains. We stopped by a large lake to photo a flamengo colony. We didn't know it at the time but the Jean, the Frenchman, we met on the Stahlratte was stopped about one quarter of a mile down the road from us with his wife and friends. They were viewing the same colony. We were traveling in opposite directions. This is the second time Jean has spotted us in Peru and notified us by email that night. Small world!
As many of you have know, I have been sick with digestive problems and a very high temperature. This was over the weekend and I am glad to report that I am doing much better but still with a tender stomach.
Today we crossed into Chile for a another two hour experience with a border crossing with the last item to turn in a form with several stamps into a booth about 100 meters past the border. My turn went fine, but when I looked in my mirror I could tell Roger and the official were trying to sort things. Apparently, someone missed putting one of the boo-coo stamps on his form. He had to walk back to the border offices and find the person with the precious stamp. I am not sure how many countries there are in the world (Ms. Debbie's Fourth grade class please research this for me and provide the answer when I present my trip to your class), but we are amazed that each of them can seemingly come up with a unique way of entering and exiting there country. The good news is that we have only one more border crossing left or possibly two depending on where we ship our motorcycles from.
First item of business in a new country is to find a bank o ATM machine and buy local cash.
That was accomplished about 10 miles south of the border and yahoo now that we have local maps on our GPS's which provide us such information this task will be mcuh easier.
Chile is a very narrow country east to west being wedged between the Andes mountain chain on the east and the Pacific Ocean on the west. The northern region along the coast is all desert and even more stark than the deserts of Peru. At times we would ride through miles and miles of varying desert landscapes without seeing a single blade of vegetation unless we dropped down into a valley floor while crossing from one high area to the next. For a while we rode along the rim of a canyon that was about 3000 feet deep - no guard rails, but there were several areas where stones had fallen into the road.
Tomorrow, we will continue our ride into the Atacama Desert which is one of the dryest regions of the world.
One of the first observations about Chile is that the driving is civilized. Let's see when was the last time we noted this - not on this trip? They use their signals, they don't constantly blow their horns, and they stop for pedestians in crosswalks. Where did these people come from? In all honesty, Roger and I just had a conversation saying how thankful we are that we are out of Peru. We spent longer there than anywhere else and it is probably a small miracle that we were not run over by a taxi or a bus, and that we did not run over some person or animal as they all walk out in front of moving traffic. Maybe tomorrow I will stop and erect a shine to St.Christopher or some other saint for this miracle. There seems to be plenty of those type shines along the roadside - here in Chile most so far have been honoring San Sebastian.

Machupicchu

Roger speaking.

We were up at the crack of dawn for a full day of sight seeing. 6:30 a.m. for breakfast and depart via taxi at 7:00 for an hour an a half ride to Ollantaytambo to catch the train. After certain delays, we were on the train and bounding away on a narrow gage train track at a blistering pace of 20 mph. Two hours later (11:30), we arrived at Agua Caliente -- the end of the train ride and jump off point for Machupicchu. We met our guide and were told that others would be joining our tourist group from a later train -- come back in twenty minutes. After the others arrived, we boarded a bus for the trip from Agua Caliente to Machupicchu -- a twenty minute, up the hill, switchback laden, dirt road that frequently did not accomodate two way traffic. Once on top of the mountain (8,000 to 9,000 feet altitude), we were instantly introduced to the psysiological effects of high altitude, we had a 10 minute walk uphill on a stone stairways to begin the tour. Boy, was I wheezing!
A little history. Machupicchu was built in a period spanning the 1400's and 1500's. It was a place for the Inca nobles to relax and worship their Gods. The site sits on top of a mountain and is surrounded by mountain peaks in all quadrants. There were 80+ Inca villages that surrounded Machupicchu and provided the labor for building the structures and farming the land to provide food for the visitors. The entire complex could house approximately 700 people. Machupicchu was never discovered by the Spanish Conquistadores and remained a lost city until the early 1900's when Hiram Bingham (a U.S. archeologist) discovered the site. Why the Inca's left the city is unknown.
Well, we spent the next two hours stumbling around on the stone walkways -- in and out of the structures. The important building, temples, etc., received extra attention on the stonework and the pieces fit like an expensive jigsaw puzzle -- pretty amazing considering the stones were all hand cut with crude implements. Interestingly, the entire site is a series of terraces that would have been farmed to supply food. The buildings were constructed on some of the terraces. And in line with the Peruvian way, llamas are used to maintain the lawns.
After our two hour tour of the ruins, we took the twenty minute bus ride back to Agua Caliente where we had to wait until 7:00 p.m. (four hours) to board the train bound for Ollantaytambo. Our taxi driver met us and then we had the one and a half ride back to Cusco. Now, I don't consider myself faint of heart but I will say the taxi ride back was one cushion biting event -- at night, in the mountains, third world taxi driver (get the picture). We arrived at our hotel in Cusco at 11:30 p.m. -- a full day and some for another.
Pictures later.