Ilo to Putre Monday 4.6.12

Great sleep, at last. Breakfast and on our bikes. We rode up the coastline which was an amazing area really, extremely dry, sand dunes coming from up high down to the rocky shore with waves crashing in, and small fishing boats hooking out the local fish life. If we didn’t realise this is a desert-dominated area we do now. Once again an excellent road with heaps of fun corners and a great surface. How they get it to hold on to the steep sand dune lord only knows. Speaking of Lord, this is clearly a Catholic dominated culture as there are numerous shrines along the roadside presumably remembering people who have been killed on the road, or celebrating some miracle or other, often with Mother Mary as part of the shrine. Harry’s hand guard came loose and started to cause his clutch to slip, so we stopped and fixed it and did some sand watching. Passed a large number of Olive tree plantations in the sand, they grow everywhere. Stopped and took photos, will need to ask Alison my accountant if this means I can claim the trip as a farm expense? Headed further along the coast to Tacna where we braved the typical traffic to get to the train station where Geert had to do some paperwork for our transition to Chile. Going into Tacna we went from desolate country to desperate, with the typical, it seems, huts on a patch of dirt (sand and rock) surrounded by increasing amounts of rubbish the closer we got to town, not particularly salubrious. We got a coffee while Geert did his stuff. Coffeed and papered up, we mounted and rode out of town Geert waved us through once out of town and we took of at the usual ignore the speed limit pace that Geert has counseled us on (Apparently no one in Peru takes any notice of the limits and no one gets ticketed for this). We tested this theory immediately by passing a police car that was doing the speed limit of 60, we were doing 90, and I saw no flashing lights in my mirrors. Mind you the police car was pretty old and probably could only achieve a speed of 60 max.

Across the flat sandy patch there were a few twisters in the distance picking up sand, as the day was now pretty warm. We arrived at the Border. They have fought over this border in the past and you do wonder why looking at it, it is just sand, and where would you draw the line anyway. I guess you have to draw a line in the sand somewhere. Exiting Peru took Geert a bit of effort to get clearance for the vehicles to leave the country, so we had some lunch and rested on some grass in the shade of a palm tree, the only one for miles. Off we went to the Chile side through no mans land (there are land mines in this strip that a taxi driver who wanted to avoid the performance found out to his terminal disappointment recently). Chile required another set of paper chasing. Migration - no worries - look, frown, rip, stamp, “next”. Customs - a performance. The vehicles needed a piece of paper with five stamps from various people on it before we could proceed, then the bags all needed to be put through a scanner, we took the bags out of the vehicle into a building, through the scanner and out the other side of the building, then walked back around the outside of the building and put the bags back in the vehicle. A bit Mickey Mouse. Friendly staff though, Geert did warn us not to make any jokes, as they have no sense of humor (where did he get the idea we would do that, I learned my lesson in France, trust me. Although I did get through Heathrow customs once after impulsively answering to the customs officer when he asked me if I had anything to declare? “Nothing, unless you count 1 kg of uncut heroin”. Now children never do that, I narrowly missed a cavity search) Total time to get through to Chile from Peru, about 2 hours.

Then we headed for the hills.

About 10 km after the border we took a left hand turn and rode up the valley which was growing with good fertility thanks to the river flowing down it, just out of the river bed it turned to rock and sand once again, so was really a thin strip of green in the desert. The road gradually climbed up to about 500m then mounted the side of the valley and climbed steadily up and up. By this time the road was populated wholly with trucks running hot engines up the hill and hot breaks down. This is a trading corridor for Bolivia where Bolivia gets all of its external supplies. 1000m, 1500m, 2000m, 2500m we stopped for a photo, and a look at some cacti as vegetation had now started. Geert later told us that he stopped at another ford to reflect on his last experience there where he had a group of 7 riders who go caught up in a flash flood. They stopped at the approach to the ford as there was a little water in it, Geert stopped his truck just above them on dry ground, and put his feet out into ankle within a minute it was waste deep and they had lost one of the BMW bikes to the flow while trying to get the other bikes out. Then he saw a rider floating down the gutter beside his truck and rushed forward, just managing to grab the shoulders of his riding jacket. He called for help from another rider standing on the truck but he wouldn't come due to having a sore leg. Geert couldn’t pull him out due to the power of the water, and couldn’t hold him for any longer, the man was too weak to get his hands up to help and said to Geert “I understand” as Geert lost his grip and watched him swept down the gutter into the river to his presumed death. Miraculously a few hundred meters downstream he was washed out of the main flow and swept onto the road on dry land and survived. Glad he didn’t tell us that story before, I would have sped through the fords and probably broken the suspension. 3000m then 3500m before we descended into Putre at 3300m. Putre is a pretty rough place on first glance with a lot of shanty type buildings but then on closer inspection it has a cobbled street system, numerous charming little cottages, and numerous houses spotted among the tumble down ones where people have fixed them up and clearly take real pride in their property. There is a nice little town square with a restaurant that looked good, so after dark we headed back there for a feed of Alpaca pizza and Chile Red wine, followed by crepes with a local caramel style jam. Very nice. Man alive did it cool down after dark. Home, type, bed.    

Arequipa to Ilo Sunday 3.6.12

Up and ready for a 7am breakfast then we sized up the new Kawasaki's and loaded our gear into the new Nissan Ute that Geert our guide is driving, signed the disclaimers and insurance papers and we were off. The immediate stress of driving on the wrong side of the road and not understanding the give way rules (I think no-one understands them) was amplified massively by having to hit the brakes due to a truck pulling into the road without any care for giving way to the main carriage-way he was pulling into. No big deal you say but I had just passed and pulled in from of a 1963 VW kombi. Hax was excitedly telling us about it moments before as we gassed up for the day, being a Kombi geek he knew the exact year and performance etc., of course being a 1963 Kombi, as I hit the brakes just in front of it, my initial thoughts were that thing will not have any brakes, I am about to be rear ended which made me instinctively release the brakes and take my chances with the Truck. Anyway it was no big deal in the end, I rode around the truck and we carried on. Once we were out of town Geert waved us through to continue on our way out of town. He had explained that we should head out of town and take the right hand turn when we get to the Y in the road then carry on down to a T intersection and wait for him there. As we rode out of town the population thinned, traffic thinned and eventually we were in the countryside, or I should say the desert. We rode up an excellent road twisting its way up past the Copper mine, which is the main industry here, it was a big open cast mine. We sailed on through the left hand of the Y intersections and realised our mistake pretty quickly so made the first correction in the trip. Geert was patiently waiting for us to come back, not seeming surprised that we had gone the wrong way, he later told us everyone take the wrong turn there. Excellent riding through here with sweeping corners on a very good quality road. The desert is very dry, not a scrap of detectable life as we passed through here, we descended to the T intersection. This was through hills and sand dunes with a view of the conical volcano, presumably El Misti (5822m) in the background. On we went across a flat plane with long straights through the sandy/dusty desert. We came across a heap of little shacks in the desert some made of basic brick masonry others made of cane walls. It looked like they may be protecting mining holes or something, however Geert later told us these are people squatting on the land to gain ownership, which initially made no sense at all as the land must be of no value at all, but then as we progressed along the road, it all turned to green cultivated land due to an irrigation scheme. Amazing how the desert springs into life once water is added, but is complete lifeless without it.

We progressed down off the plane into Molendo. This was another fun winding road down through a canyon with heaps of sweeping corners on another excellent road. Most of the way down and we came to a toll booth that Geert had told us to ride through, as there is no toll for bikes, but as Hax rode into the middle barrier the guard got very excited and came rushing out telling him to go around the outside with a lot of arm waving and shouting. Apparently if the bike goes into the=is area it activates an electronic counter and the guard has to pay the fee at the end of the day. As we rode through Molendo we took the wrong turn for a second time. Eventually we got back on track and headed along the coast, once again a desolate place with the desert dropping straight into the sea.  

Geert guided us through Punta De BomBon for lunch but the tourist restaurant he had in mind was closed, so we drove back in to the town and he asked a local police Constable where to get lunch, he suggested continuing to Ilo (2 hours down the road). We ignored this advice and found the only restaurant in the town and had a very nice roast Fish with rice and veggies and a salad vegetable that looked like Capsicum but had the heat of Chili, just as well we were warned about this. The restaurant was a very local affair with bamboo roof, partial walls and limited sophistication, but the food was good. After lunch it was back on the road for the final stretch along a new road along the coast to Ilo. This road was more of the same excellent quality, not at all what I had expected to find on this trip. It wound along the coastline with some excellent views and classic roadrunner territory, sandy and rock outcrops with tall cactuses dotted around every now and then. We stopped a few times for photos, and couldn’t help but test out the off road ability of these bikes. A fair bit of unnecessary wheel spin, flying dust and giggles. Harry got a bit stuck and dug a hole with his back wheel almost bellying the bike out trying to get up on to the road.

We arrive d in Ilo and fueled up, then the three amigos waited roadside while Geert found a hotel. We were accosted by a friendly guy who spoke a bit of English, but ultimately asked for money. Settled into our hotel, which Geert struggled to get the New truck into, jamming the side mirror into the entrance with a terrible crunching noise, I guess its not new anymore. Went for a walk along a very pleasant esplanade, with lots of bars and stalls all playing the football on TV as I is Peru vs. Columbia, an important game for the world cup. Met another friendly guy in the town square who was interested in whether we were off the ship, or tourists and went of to engage us in conversation, mostly understandable. But as is often the way the twist came as he was trying to drum up business for his sister’s brothel. No wonder he was interested in whether we were sailors or not! Returned to the Hotel then met Geert and off we went to get some food, at Geert favorite Chinese restaurant. Langoustine on a hot plate, very nice. Home and turned in without delay, pretty fatigued.

Lima to Arequipa Saturday 2.6.12

Breakfast at the hotel then time for a walk so we went down through town to the Inca market to see all of the touristy nick necks and trinkets, took a few photos of the central park area and church on the way back to the hotel which had us back to the hotel a bit later than planned. Back at the hotel we packed and checked out which took a bit longer than anticipated then we had underestimated traffic on Saturday morning with regard to time required, hence we were a bit late for the airport. We found the line that we thought we should be in and patiently were waiting our turn when I noticed the group on LAN representatives checking peoples ticket at the start of the queue that we had rushed past in order to get into line ASAP. I mentioned to Hax perhaps we should ask them if we are in the right queue. The LAN lady looked at Hax's ticket and did a series of hand gestures that I think meant “you are very late sir, please follow me” (with Latin American passion of course, and a slight look of scorn). She pulled us out of the line and rushed us to the counter and said something to the check in guy that made him laugh, this is no time for jokes lady, don’t you know we are in a hurry, I thought. The check in guy quickly dispatched the person he was dealing with and then put our gear and tickets through. We thanked the helpful LAN lady, she managed to smile and scorn at the same time, now that’s talent.  We sped through security as much as one can speed through security and found our gate in time to relax before boarding. Initially we couldn’t see Harry there which was strange because we had planned to meet here, but on closer inspection one of the people in the crowd was holding a Shoei helmet in front of there face, hiding, ah yes that would be him. The flight to Arequipa went well I thought “it is a barren wasteland out there” as I viewed the terrain out the window from 35000 feet, then realized the shade was down, opened the shade but the view hardly changed! As we approached Arequipa a progressive series of old shacks in the sand were visible, becoming more and more densely spaced, from the lifestyle blocks of sand to the suburban section of sand, until on outskirts of Arequipa they blended in to the city, which was very dense housing. Hax and I were the first off the plane which is just one of the advantages of turning up late, you get to sit in the front seats. Met Geert our guide for the trip who ran us to the Peru-motors hotel. On arrival at the hotel we met our bikes, brand new Kawasaki KLR650s, Geert also pointed out that he had a new truck for this trip, so all bodes well for the reliability of this journey.  Had our initial briefing with beer in hand in the garden (setting the tone). After Geert left to spend time with his significant other, we walked to town for a look and a feed. The architecture was interesting Spanish influence buildings made with the white volcanic rock from the area. Impressive central square, with two stories of arched stone balconies all the way around a gardened square with a central fountain, very Spanish feel to it. We found a restaurant that promised on their brochure to give us a view of the volcano El Misty that towers over Arequipa, and we hoped would be lit by the full moon, as it was now dark. As a bonus the restaurant claimed to serve pre Inca cuisine, now that’s culture. We all ordered the same thing - roast lama on a hot volcanic stone. Sadly from our seats on the first floor balcony we could only admire and wonder a the driving of the locals as they circumnavigated the square with little regard for each other, no regard for the road markings and an apparent maleficence for the pedestrians both young and old (Harry and Hax watched a mother and a small child get stuck in the traffic flow as they crossed the street and the cars all tooted and swerved but not one of them stopped to let them get off the road!). This young child was playing dodgems with the cars while I was on the roof of the building trying to get a photo of El Misty, as this was the only view of the mountain from the restaurant. I was a bit nervous when the owner of the restaurant noticing me taking photos and invited me to come with him to his stairway to heaven, I said “no no no you have it all wrong, your Gaydar needs recalibrating hombre!” but he assured me it was the best place to get photos of El Misty, so up I went, and sure enough I could just make out the mountain from up there weakly lit by the full moon and difficult to make out due to the light from the square. I refused the offered Pisco Sour, a local cocktail, as I was already stumbling due to the effect of the second large beer at the restaurant in combination with sleep deprivation. Walked back, then had no trouble getting to sleep at all but curses, woke again at 3 at that was me up!

Three Amigos are go!

Nelson to Lima Friday 1.6.12

So here we go, the three amigos off for a whirlwind tour of Peru, Bolivia and Chile. Harry the bastard, Hippy Hax and our hero - Garth the really nice guy, not to mention handsome, witty and multi-skilled after watching Bear Grylls videos and taking notes. Three weeks, three Kawasaki's, three nations, more than three natural and cultural wonders with three partially skilled elderly teenagers offering mutual support and encouragement, no doubt with ample hilarity at each south American sand induced tumble from the two wheeled steads. Hax and I met up outside the Auckland international terminal, in rarely seen sunshine. The flight was good, smooth, but limited for sleep due to my inability to sleep sitting up, sore bum++, and three movies prior to a brief sleep and the sun was coming up. As south America came into view it was immediately obvious this is big country, Big mountain range (the Andes I think it is called) dropping from very high into the sea, much like the west coast of the south island except the land is bone dry by the looks of it. As we cam into Santiago the pilot demonstrated that a bit of flamboyance is very possible in an A340 as he threw in a hard turn that generated the most G force that I have experienced in a big plane. I guess this was due to the fairly tight valley that Santiago sits in, but really I think it was just for the hell of it after a long straight haul. Through to the transit lounge we enjoyed a couple of coffees and a mediocre sandwich and had a conversation with a customer talking loudly about the expense of the airport food.

Flight into Lima about 3 and a half hours latter saw us descend into hazy conditions. Still more of the big mountain ranges (pretty confident this is the Andes?) once again steep to flat for a bit then into the sea, dry++. Can through customs completely confused, didn’t know how to answer the question “will you frequent need of temporary entrances?’ Taxi fare offered by the first stand US$50, we were rescued by a friendly Aussie couple who had obviously read the guidebook and realised this was a rip off price. We shared a taxi with them for less than half the price, although the taxi driver insisted on charging more than we had agreed at the Airport, should have been 45 sol but the taxi charged 70sol, settled on US$25, the side of the street didn’t seem the right place to argue the point so we just paid and headed for the hotel. Hot in the Taxi, with the darkest windows that did not ever, Lima traffic - hustle, bustle, bang. Glade we are not riding here. . Nice hotel. Walked to get money from ATM, Sol from Aussie, walked around busy, beeping horns, happy people, went to Al Fresco for sea food meal - delicious raw fish, followed by Risotto, back for a beer in the hotel bar, looks like a brothel with beds everywhere, few chairs, bright lights, and thumping music. Exhausted off to bed!

South America here we come!

Training has begun for the next big ride -Peru, Bolivia and Chile, off road!

800km blast on Friday from Nelson to Cromwell with the old faithful BMW 1150RT with the Mountain bike strapped on the back. Met up with Harry and Hax to unite the three amigoes with a celebratory beverage at the Bannockburn Pub. Saturday saw a 47km mountain bike race, the Mototapu, for Harry and I, Hax sensibly offering to support crew. I had the joy of experiencing the worst cramp yet, which involved me bent over double leaning against a bank groaning and holding my legs for about 5 minutes while hundreds of cyclists passed me wondering what the hell I was up to. This all unfolded after a 30 minute period of me flying down hill feeling bullet proof, and passing a lot of other competitors due to my full embrace of my built up potential energy combined with momentum. Eventually a kind sole stopped and offered me some "cramp stop"- the magic cure, more celebratory beverages to debrief and massage sore muscles. Sunday saw the Amigoes bravely throwing the leg over three Honda CRF230's for an off road adventure. Our course took us from Bannockburn over the Nevis saddle and along the Nevis valley, in the rain, through 25 river crossings before stopping at the Garston Pub for a Pie and a warm up. Riders refueled, we headed back the way we came, problem- the rivers had risen significantly, but being full of bravado and new found off road confidence and with bellies full of hot pies, we pushed on. Great fun, but Dave our guide forgot his own advice and road straight through the middle of the deepest ford instead of on the downstream side of the flow. Down went the bike, with water right up to the seat. Dave killed the engine pretty fast but not before the bike had sucked in a fair gulp of water. It took a bit of mucking around to drain the majority of the water from his bike and get it running again, albeit pretty roughly. Awesome generosity of Dave to sacrifice a bike like that to demonstrate the technique for self recovery in the out back downpour. It helps it seems to have a bike that is light enough to pick up and shake out. Great fun day with 154km off road riding under our belts we are pretty confident (Harry and Hax are ex farm boys so have petrol in their veins and I have riden a bike before too). Harry took off in his Truck with the heater on full and Hax and I lit the fire at the pub and spent a few hours warming up and progressively convincing ourselves how great we are at bike riding in the rough. Monday loaded up the mountainbike and headed back to Nelson, another 800km.

Good to be back in the saddle! YeeHaa, Andele andele, Ariba Ariba Ariba!!!