The ride from Nazca, Peru was fairly uneventful. I spent 3 very long days on the road. Riding from sun up to sundown mostly through the desert. Passing the time with tunes on my ipod and through contemplation of all kinds of subjects meaningful and otherwise. I was worried about running out of gas several times as the distances in the Chilean deserts between towns with gas stations is staggering. On the fourth day I rode from La Serena to Vina. A four hour ride. The smells changed, the desert disappeared. Orchards, vineyards, and farmland dominating the landscape and the signs of a civilization blessed with a much higher degree of prosperity than anything I’d seen since leaving the United States four months ago.
I”m now in Vina Del Mar Chile and the end of my ride is now in sight. Its the fall down here and the nights are crisp. The leaves are beginning to turn and the world as it is prepares for the winter. I contemplate this as I realize that I have gone nearly half way around the world on a motorcycle. Vina Del Mar is very close to the opposite latitude of Vancouver, where i left from. And further south, lies an area devastated by one of the strongest earthquakes ever recorded. Vina was lucky enough to avoid any major damage or death, but the country is visibly shaken.
I met up with John’s good friend Brian a couple of days ago who at the moment calls Vina home. We spent a day on the beach where he explained to me under normal circumstances it would be packed with foreign and domestic tourists, but was almost deserted. The main topic of conversation is the earthquake in bars, cafes, and the homes of all Chileans.
I’ve been welcomed into Brian’s home with great kindness. A room to stay in, a safe place for my bike, and full use of the house. Brian works up north on eight day shifts and won’t be back for another week now. It has been really nice to live out of a household again and not a hotel. I plan on taking full advantage of my situation and plan on doing a bit of exploring in the city and in Valparaiso, the city right next door.
I will be considering my options on how to finish the trip off over the next week. I want to go further south and may end up going through the earthquake zone here in Chile and then cross over into Argentina and loop back up into Santiago. Or I may cross over to Beunos Aries. Either way the next few weeks are sure to hold an abundance of adventure still to be had.
Glad to have you all along,
Kent
Picking up where I left off, I left Turbo feeling ready to conquer some roads. The road from Turbo to Medillien was of very poor quality, but it was the only option I had. Aside from the fact that I was navigating sharp corners high up in the mountains on gravel roads, the military presence was heavy. Armored trucks and personal carriers were stationed every five to 10 km. Turbo is in the Darian region of Columbia where the war on drugs and guerrillas still has a major impact. Next stop, Mediellen, at one time considered to be one of the most dangerous places in the world.
Mediellien proved to be the complete opposite of what I had imagined. The city is very modern, easy to navigate, and exceptionally beautiful. However, it is a city of stark contrasts. In some places you can walk across the street into the wrong neighborhood where your life will surely be in danger. I didn’t venture into any of these places. I found the Pan-American Highway and was on my way.
Columbia is Beautiful. From lush valleys to massive green mountains to pristine lakes and rivers, this country was easy on the eyes. My first night was spent in a little mountain village. The views were staggering, day and night. There are homes and farms all over the mountain sides and in the night, the valley looks like a massive Christmas light decoration.
The people here were incredibly kind and hospitable.
The next day I drove all day. I was on a mission. My parents had arranged to meet me on the 19th on February in Huan Chaco Peru. I had seven days to get through the rest of Columbia, all of Ecuador, and a bit of Peru. At one point, the Colombian Pan-American turned into a big four lane freeway and I was able to make really good time. Later in the day the road turned back into a two lane twisting through the mountains bordering Ecuador. I spent the night in a town about an hour and a half from the Ecuador border. I traveled Columbia in two days.
Getting into Ecuador was a breeze. I quickly learned that, not to be out done by the Colombians, the people in Ecuador were just as kind and welcoming. Ecuador is basically one big mountain range. The mountains are massive and green. The Pan-American winds its way up and down the mountains for about 1500kms. This was going to be fun. I pictured one of those “CAUTION Curves ahead” signs at the entrance to Ecuador, but this time instead of a measly “Next 15km” or something like that it would say “Next 1500km.” At times the road is up to 17000ft at the top of some of the peaks. This would prove to be a bit much on my finely tuned carburetor.
The first day in Ecuador I would be passing through the Equator. I told my self to be sure to stop and get the picture of the Equator marker with my half of my self in each hemisphere. But I never looked at a map to see where exactly it was and by the time i looked at a map to check I was about 4 hours past. I also drove through Quito which proved to be fairly frustrating and crazy. It was almost nightfall by the time I got out of the city and it had started to rain. I found a motel along the highway and hunkered down for the night.
The next day I tried to drive another big chunk of the country. It was Carnival today. A big celebration for the whole country and a national long weekend holiday. It was cool to see, but every little town I went through had a huge street party going and I had to drive right through the middle. A perfect target for water balloons. I spent the rest of the day dodging buckets of water water balloons and people with hoses standing along the side of the road getting cars and everything else going by. Most of the projectiles I was able to dodge. But some kids were pretty smart. They would hide behind bushes or on the roofs of houses so I couldn’t see them. I got nailed pretty good a couple of times. It made the drive kinda fun. Generally eight hours of driving even on beautiful paved roads through mountains can get a little tedious. I made it to a town about 2 and a half hours from the border. Not bad.
The town was way up in the mountains. The air was crisp and clean, and the views spectacular.
The next day I headed to the border and arrived in good time. I accidentally took a wrong turn before the border though and went 20 minutes down a side road. No big deal. But the kids with the water were out in force. And I had to go through everything twice because I had to turn back. There was one group of kids that had set up the perfect trap. Four of them on each side of the road just on the other side of a slow corner. With no room to maneuver I got soaked the first time alright. And absolutely destroyed when I came back. I’m sure they heard me coming on the way back, they all had massive evil grins and perhaps larger buckets of water.
Finally in Peru, I was actually looking forward to a little bit of straight road driving. The coast of Peru is just a big ol desert. The roads are straight and flat and the sand goes for miles. I immediately noticed a difference in the quality of life for some northern Peruvians in these towns. They were incredibly dirty. Garbage was absolutely everywhere and the smell was horrendous. Some peoples front yards were literally just big piles of garbage. The desert was also littered with trash. I saw many people throwing all kinds of stuff out of the windows of their cars. It was a bit disturbing. I spent the night in Piura. I would be in Huan Chaco the next day.
I woke up early and drove the three hours to Huan Chaco where I let out a big sigh of relief. I found my self a nice hotel and settled in to wait the next three nights for my parents to arrive. I did lots of relaxing and surfing. It was nice to be stationary.
My parents arrived on the 19th and I moved into the same hotel as them. A beautiful spot overlooking the beach, daily room cleanings, food and pretty much anything else available with a simple call. This was the life.
The next day I had planned to go up to a famous surf spot called Chicama where the longest left hand wave in the world can be seen and surfed. My parents would go into Trujillo for the day and see the city. I had some great surfing although the waves weren’t all that big. With a bigger swell that place would be amazing.
Over the next few days with my parents we visited several archeological sites and museums about the ancient desert civilizations in the area. The ruins were very remarkable and museums even more so. The dead kings were buried with lots of gold things and pottery. Good description right.
My favorite site was Chan Chan. It was just outside of Huan Chaco and was the capital city for one of the ancient civilizations. It has been wonderfully restored and is really a wonder to walk though. Our guide was also excellent. He had a horn made out of a shell and also played a ancient flute-like instrument for us.
My parents left on the 25th to go to Lima for a day and then back to Calgary. It was great to see them and our time spent together just flew by.
The next day I was going to go into Trujillo and get some work done on my bike. I needed a new rear tire, chain and sprocket, oil change, new brake pads, and several things fixed on my rack. But, I ended up just chillin out in the hotel, getting room service. and surfin all day.
Okay, so the next day I went into Trujillo and found a mechanic. We spent all day sourcing the parts from various shops across the city. We were able to get all the work done on the bike, but I would need to come back to get the rack done.
Unfortunately I got sick for the next two days. I spent alot of time watching the Olympics which was kinda nice as I really hadn’t seen any yet. On Sunday I watched the hockey game. You know the one. Then I got back to the shop on Monday and got things sorted with my rack.
Tuesday, I was back on the road. I drove to Huacho. Nothing much to see really. The desert is kinda boring. The next day I drove through Lima and down to Nazca to see the Nazca Lines. Today I took a flight over the desert where the lines are. It was really cool to see them. Its incredible to think that they were made by a civilization a couple of thousand of years ago. The accuracy is amazing.
Tomorrow I’ll be back on the road. I’ve got another couple of long days ahead of me. I’m on my way to Vina, Chile to meet up with a friend of John’s who is going to put me up for a few days I hope. If he doesn’t, John’s going to kick him in the neck. Or something like that.
Cheers
Kent
The last week has been an adventure to say the least. I’ll start from where I left off last time at Luna’s Castle Hostel in Panama City.
Its 5am and 25 people sit on the sidewalk outside of the Hostel. All of us waiting for a convey of Land Cruisers to take us to Carti Panama on the Caribbean coast. Myself ready to follow along with my motorcycle. I put most of my gear on the land cruisers because I’m told the road to Carti is a little rough. The convey starts a bit late but we’re on the road driving at 120km per hour on the Panamanian freeways. My poor motorcycle is being pushed to the limit because its geared to cruise around 90 to 100km per hour. I get dropped a few times but manage to keep up until the turn off to Carti. Here the road turns into rugged gravel and mud. I have no troubles keeping up. I have to cross a big river. Its not so deep, but its definitely the longest I’ve ever crossed. I’m happy now that I had lots of practice in Costa Rica with Jesse and that scooter. We get to the end of the road.
The next stage is to put the bike on a little launcha which will take us up the river and into the Caribbean where our sailboat is waiting. I’m worried about putting the bike on the boat, but am reassured to hear that they do this all the time. Once we get to the sail boat the captain Jean Pierre, a Frenchman…from France as it happens, tells me to use a rope to strap up the bike which will the be hoisted ten feet in the air over the railing and safely on to the boat. Aside from the stress this is causing me it all goes to plan.
The rest of the passengers arrive on another boat and we’re on our way. We cruise about 2 hours to a little island where we stop for the night. I find out we’re now going to follow another boat and go to Sapzurro instead of Categena. I don’t know where Sapzurro is, but assume I will be able to drive out of there…
The captain goes on to the island, we figure to go buy a hooker, and spends the night. The rest of the passengers and myself party almost until the sun comes up. We all have pirate names by the end of the night. I’m Chopper. There is Sticky Fingers, Squirter, Luke Perry, and Bumbacla among others that I’m loath to say. I figure this is going to be a fun boat ride.
Jean Pierre arrives sometime in the morning and we get going while i’m still sleeping.
Our boat is a big 55 foot catamaran. There are plenty of beds, two little toilets, a kitchen, and enough deck space for a dance floor (which we take advantage of). Jean Pierre is an interesting man. Loud as anything i’ve ever heard, ready to blow his top for the slightest of infractions. For example, ‘don’t touch the fridge’, ‘don’t sit on that’, ‘don’t look at that’, ‘cease to exist’, and ‘this is the last time i’m doing this.’ All in Spanish or french or maybe both, I don’t know. But other times he is very amiable. We chat about motorbike and his boat. I steer the boat for a couple of hours to my glee.
I get a tattoo.
Of a anchor. On my shoulder.
Its not “real,” but am told it will last about 3 months. Its some kind of extra strong ink.
Everyone else gets a tattoo.
We stop at a different island each night. One night we have a bon fire on the beach.
The second last day we sail for 12 hours. A couple of people get sea sick. I’m good though. That night we drink the rest of our booze. I try not to think about the morning because our captain tells us that this is where we’re stopping. Sapzurro. Just past the border of Panama right in the middle of the Darian.
In the morning a boat arrives to take the rest of the passengers to Capurgana around the next bay. They all get another boat to Turbo.
A couple of hours later another boat comes to pick me and my motorbike up. The captain says its very easy to get to Turbo. All I have to do is put the bike on a cargo boat. and take on of the regular speed boats to Turbo where I will wait for my bike. Easier said then done. I am almost out of cash. By the time i get to Capurgana I have 40 dollars. My hostel is ten dollars a night. There are no ATM’s and no way to take out cash. I spend two days stressing out thinking about being stranded in a tiny little coastal town in Columbia,probably right on the regular drug running route. Yipee. My second day in Capurgana I only eat two buns to save what little money i have left. I use my water purification tabs so i can drink tap water.
I eventually strike a deal with several parties to get my bike on a cargo boat and to take a speed boat. I will pay everything in Turbo where there is an ATM. I am charged way to much because i’m a gringo and have nothing to bargain with. I feel horrible. I hate Columbia, sail boats, Frenchman named Jean Pierre, Sappzurro, and Capurgana.
When I arrive in Turbo and Take out money a small weight is lifted off my chest. I pay the speed boat and go looking for a hotel where my motorbike will be safe. A cabbie and myself drive around for a long while trying to find a hotel. I eventually find the perfect place. My room costs 3.50 per night. I’m very proud of myself.
The captain of the cargo boat told me he would arrive at 6pm. I begin waiting at 4 by the pier. I have a beer. I buy a beer for another guy that sat down with me looking to chat. He appears to be very poor, but he is very kind and seems content with things.
My bike arrives at 5:30. I am so relieved that things eventually work out. I pay the captain his asking price. Way to much. He looks smug. I curse his boat and hope it sinks.
My opinion of Columbia has now changed. In fact its done a 180. The people here in Turbo have got to be the kindest most helpful I’ve ever met. I’ve been here now for a night and most of two days. People will stop you on the street all the time. And they don’t want anything from you or to sell you something. They want to know where I’m from. Where I’m going. Where I’ve been. What I think of Columbia. They are very proud of their country, and I think they have every right. Columbia is no longer run by guerrillas and drug lords. They still exist. But, things have changed.
For example, earlier today I went to the customs to get my bike registered and was guided into a nice air conditioned room. The agent was very efficient but, their computer system was temporarily down. I was offered coffee while I waited. Good Columbian coffee. In every other country I’ve been customs are hot, disorganized, and the people overworked and unhappy.
I also had to change my oil and get my rack on my bike re-welded today. Both excellent experience and so “special” prices.
So I’m really looking forward to seeing the rest of Columbia. Although, most of it is going to be from the seat of my bike. I have to be in Peru for the 19′th to meet my parents. So tomorrow morning I’m hitting the road. I foresee many long days on the road ahead. But I’m looking forward to it. My bike is as good as ever. And I want to eat up some km’s.
Until next time.
Kent
Photo Uploads are not working so hot right now. All will be on facebook.
Three months and almost 10000 kilometers. Wow. I can’t put it in words how truly awed I am by the distance that I’ve covered. In the three years that I owned by last motorcycle I put on about the same distance that I’ve done in three months. Thank you to all the donors who have already contributed and to all those who have pledged to donate per kilometer. Our friend Dan is a real inspiration to me and I know that he and his team at Global Peace Network will be able to make a big difference to many people thanks to everyone’s support.
Santa Teresa to Panama City, in two days…
Saturday morning, Jesse and I woke up bright and early, 530am, so he could get on a bus back to Liberia. That poor scooter was dead or close to it. Maybe a blown head gasket, it wasn’t going anywhere soon. Thankfully there was a road, mostly paved, to the ferry from Santa Teressa. To bad we didn’t know about it before we decided to take the road from hell. Anyways, Jesse got on his shuttle and I decided to sleep in a bit and meet him at the ferry. Unfortunately, the shuttle did not take quite as long as he thought so we ended up on different boats. But I saw him on the other side and we said our farewells. Looking back at the week, it was a little rough. The mishaps are still a little raw and fresh in our minds, but I know its something that we will both look back on fondly. Maybe in a few months…or years.
Anyways, I got off the boat at around 12:30 thinking that would leave me plenty of time to make it to the border. Besides I would be taking the Pan-American Highway, paved the whole way. So I got on the highway and was on may way towards San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica.
In Mexico I learned that big cities are to be avoided at all costs because they are virtually impossible to navigate through without GPS or an act of god. But, maybe Costa Rica would be different, I thought. They have more signs here, they kinda look like the ones back home, and generally seem to be right. I would try my best.
Driving into San Jose the traffic steadily got more and more congested. No big problem. At this point I am an old hand at driving through busy traffic. Weaving, passing, and revving my engine at people to get out of the way (my horn fell of somewhere in Mexico, but I actually like doing this more, for the obvious cliche reasons). The road was divided and it was very clear that I was still on the Pan-American. But not for long. Good ol Central American logic. Put a sign up saying to go one way, but actually you need to go the exact opposite way. There was a sign that even said Frontera de Panama 380km and I thought wow, maybe Costa Rica has got the sign thing down. The arrow said go straight and straight I went. Right onto Highway 27 going out of the city and in the exact opposite direction I wanted to go… bah
So back I went to the original sign and found somebody to ask on a motorbike. He drove in front of me for a bit to help me find the road. He said ‘Directo’ meaning straight on through, direct route, no turns, easy to do. Maybe for a Costa Rica’n. This road proceeded to wind though many neighborhoods turning into a single lane, then a one way, then a divided highway, then back to a single lane. All the while I have no idea if this is still the Pan-American. But yes it was. Once out of the city there was another familiar green sign with a big number 2 on it. Yipee.
I just had one more obstacle. The highway split just outside of another big town. The sign said both way were the number two. I took the bigger, more friendly looking route right through the city. Nope. Tons of traffic, blistering heat, too many people, and once you get through the city the road simply ends. Some number 2. So I went all the way back through town, blistering heat, tons of traffic, way to many people, and took the other route. Finally. Beautiful Highway.
And beautiful it was.
I passed through one of the highest passes I’ve ever been on. Rivaling, if not surpassing the height of the roads in Guatemala. The road was pristine. Twisting up a mountain for an ascent that took almost an hour and then working its way across the peaks and valleys of the high mountain pass. Awesome fun. I caught up to a Subaru that was going just a bit slower than my pace, so I decided to follow him as it is difficult to pass a fast moving vehicle on the tight roads. The guy in the Subaru picked the pace right up though and we raced through the twisties passing all the old cars that have significant trouble going through these roads. We eventually caught up to a big line of traffic stuck behind a couple of slow moving semi’s so I gave him a thumbs up and easily got passed the rows of cars using the shoulders and center of the road.
I originally wanted to get right down to the border of Panama on this day, but by five o’clock I had only mad it about half way through Costa Rica. And there was a nice little town at the bottom of the mountain pass.
I pulled into the central plaza and spotted two beautiful girls, clearly tourists, who might know of a good place to stay. The two girls, from France, told me zat I should go to ze same place zey ver at, a hotel overlooking the plaza. The price was right and I ended up getting a room right next to them. They asked me if I wanted to go for a drink with them and off we went. I knew I had a long day ahead of me tommorrow, but the company was excellent and the beer cheap.
I woke up early, with a good hangover, the kind that only a good ride can get rid of. Packed my bike and got on the road. I needed to get to Panama city today. My friends from Nicaragua had found a boat that could take my motorbike and I needed to get there to reserve my spot. I was looking at about 700kms and a border crossing. It would be a long day.
The guy at the front desk of my hotel spoke really good English and was a fellow motorcycle enthusiast. He told me the fastest way to get to the border, which was not the Pan-American, and about a really great road for motorcycling which would take me to the main highway.
This, I think was the best road I’ve ever seen (up to this point). It climbed up through a beautiful green and mountainous valley and was hairpin turns, switchbacks, sweeping rights and lefts, fast sections, and all on brand new pavement. It lasted for about an hour and by the time I got to the highway, I had easily forgotten about my hangover.
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Once I got into Panama, the Pan-American basically turns into a big freeway. It took me about five and a half hours to get to Panama City and it was dark when I arrived. I knew this was not a very good idea to be riding in one of the biggest and most dangerous cities at night, but I really wanted to get to the hostel where my friends would be.
Once closer to the city the traffic became incredible. I road on the shoulder for about an hour, passing the slow moving traffic. I spotted a Hotel called the Backpackers Inn and thought maybe it would be best to grab a room and head into the city in the morning. I walked into the reception where they told me the price was 25 dollars. Now I know to you folks in Canada and US might think this a bargain, but this was a bit ridicules for Panama, one of the cheapest Central American Countries. Some backpackers inn. So I kept going.
I formulated my plan. I have no idea where the hostel is. I know the name is “Luna’s Castle.” I decided to go to a central location, not quite downtown, and ask a cabbie to take me there for the regular fare. I of course would be following on my motorcycle. So I found my cabbie, he knew where it was, and I was there in about 5 minutes. What good luck, my instincts were right.
However, when I got to the hostel reception, they told me that there were no beds left, and not a single place available for me to sleep. Not good. They said there was nothing else close and that my best chance would be to go downtown and find something. Not what I wanted to hear.
I got back on the bike. Somehow found I road going downtown and started searching. Eventually I found a real shady looking 24 hour hotel, not really the most appealing place. I think it was called Edens paradise or something really sleazy. But, they had a good secure parking lot with video cameras and a big steel gate. My room was 25 dollars. Should have stayed at the Backpacker’s Inn…
The next morning I got back to the hostel and was able to score a room. I was also able to book the same boat as my friends. Both me and my motorcycle should be on a boat by tomorrow afternoon for the voyage through the San Blas islands and on route to Columbia.
Unfortunately, I didn’t take any pictures in the last two days, So I hope my descriptions have been good enough. I was pretty stressed out about making it to Panama City to get this boat. But I’ll be sure to take lots on my boat voyage to Columbia. The trip is going to be five days, but it could take longer if the seas are rough.
Kent
Well I haven’t posted in a few weeks, but it feels like a few days for me. Time has been flying by for me. I will try to pick up where I left off.
San Juan Del Sur was an excellent town and I made many good friends there. Once the wind died down I pretty much spent every day going to the beach surfing and relaxing. Maderas beach is just north of the town is very popular for surfers so it is really busy, but the waves are very consistent. After several days of the same thing though we were all looking for a bit of a change.
Nigel, one of the many travelers I met, had just bought a piece of property about an hour north of San Juan. So one day seven of us decided to rent a car and go see the property and check out some of the local beaches and surf spots. We were gonna rent a car off an Irish guy who lived down here, but he was running a bit late getting back into town so we decided to rent a Toyota four runner off somebody else that Nigel knew of. By 11 o’clock we finally got on the road. And by 11:30 we had broken down along the highway. Nobody seemed really worried though, and we had music and beers to pass the time. After about an hour of waiting we finally decided to flag down a bus and catch a ride back into San Juan.
When we got back into town we were all a little bummed out, but the Irish guy, John, who we were originally going to rent off of called up Nigel and offered us all a free ride to Maderas. Perfect. The day was not lost after all. We got to surf right until sunset and then piled back into the truck for a ride back into town. Before we got back, John, stopped the truck in front of a local bar and asked if we wanted a quick one. Seven bottles of rum later, we got back into the truck. I guess that’s what the Irish mean when they say a quick one. The day was a good one and once again everything worked out.
Most travelers I’ve talked to will tell you similar stories of how things just work out when your on the road. There are always times when things look a little bit hopeless, but things do seem to have a way of working themselves out.
Fast forward to Costa Rica
I’ve met Jesse in Liberia, we get to Playa Coco the next day, he rents a scooter the day after that, and we get on the road.
I’ve been really impressed with the roads in Central America, the pavement is always really nice, and driving has been fairly simple. I explained my plan to Jesse to follow the coastal road along the peninsula here in Costa Rica and see all the wonderful beaches along the way. The plan on paper looked really good but once we hit the coast the road really started to deteriorate. The first day on the road we rode about 150 kilometers, but it took about 4 hours. We had to cross three rivers and follow an incredibly dusty dirt road. We made it to Nasara and found a really cool surf hostel where we were able to rest up and relax after a hard days riding. Two nights and we were back on the road again.
We were both hoping that the worst of the riding was now over. Initially it looked like our hopes might be answered. The gravel road turned into a paved road and then a bit of gravel and then another paved road but we eventually found ourselves back on some of the roughest roads I’ve ever ridden. And Jesse’s poor scooter was not liking it at all.
We had to turn back a couple of times because the rivers were too deep to cross. We ended up backtracking and found ourselves on a single lane dirt road in the very back country of Costa Rica. We were riding between farmers fields where there were cattle and orchards. The scenery was really spectacular, but we both were too focused on getting out of this mess to really appreciate it.
Our goal for the day was to make it to Santa Teresa and Mal Pais. I think we travelled about 200km but it took us about 8 hours. All in all, I had a spill, craked a couple welds on my rack, Jesse had a spill (no major damage), but right before Santa Teresa the scooter started acting up. It wouldn’t get above 50 and was starting to sputter. Now the scooter is sitting in front of our hostel and will barely start and won’t move much. Its sounding terrible.
Yesterday we took apart the carb and cleaned it all up and cleaned up the air filter. But we are really in a bind. Jesse needs to make it back up to Liberia In a couple of days to fly back to Calgary and the scooter needs to be returned. Right now our options don’t look very good. I’m hoping that things will work out for us.
Once Jesse leaves I’ll be on the road to Panama City to get either a flight or a boat to Columbia.
Well thats all for now.
Kent
Well The scooter is going to be staying here in Santa Teresa, RIP.
After not having been on the road much since arriving in Antigua, I had to get back into the swing of long days in the saddle. I was on my way to El Salvador to meet another motorcyclist. We made contact through www.advrider.com which has been a great resource for me. Igor and I met at San Blas beach at the Backpackers Inn which was a beautiful little resort right on the beach. I was tempted to suggest we stay a night here before getting back on the road, but Igor mentioned that he had heard of a possible way to skip the tedious border crossings at Honduras. Some guys about a week before us had made the crossing by boat from El Salvador to Nicaragua at a town called La Union. We figured we’d try and follow their tracks.
Just before the sun was going down we arrived in La Union. Found a hotel, a Comfort Inn, which was very comfortable, and made plans to head down to the docks in the morning to try and find a boat.
The next morning we made it down to the docks and found a number launchas that looks sort of capable of taking a couple of motorcycles across 20 km of ocean. We managed to find the same lady that took the other two across the previous week, but she was firm on the price of 300 dollars for the crossing. Both Igor and I thought that this price was a little ridicules and decided that we’d go for the land crossing.
I’ve read some real horror stories about the border crossings at Honduras. Waits of up to seven hours, constant confusion, and endless corrupt officials looking to extract as much money as they can.
We arrived at the El Salvador exit around 9 AM and were immediately jumped on by about ten money changers waving their fistfuls of papers at us. I politely told them to hang on a minute as I wanted to process my paper work first. A second time, third, and fourth. These guys don’t give up. I then proceeded to lose my cool which kept them at bay for another five minutes. And this was just on the fringe of Honduras. I was not looking forward to crossing the next 300 meters.
Igor and I decided that it would be best to have one person deal with the paper work and the other watch the bikes and gear. I watched the bike for the next 3 hours. And we didn’t fare too badly I suppose. We payed the official fee, about 40 dollars each and five bucks for our helper, the price he said he would take, and managed to avoid a bogus 22 dollar charge each that was written in our passports and called a “road tax.” Our helper, after seeing that we likely wouldn’t be paying this, ran over to his buddy and a nearby cop who then attempted to persuade us of the need to pay this fee. Igor held firm though and we didn’t pay a thing, got on our bikes, gassed up, and got on the road.
We crossed Honduras in about 2 hours and we only stopped once by the police who thankfully just looked at our documents and waved us through. Both Igor and I were prepared for the corrupt police officers that we thought we would encounter, but I guess they had the day off thankfully.
Exiting Honduras was another ordeal. I would be processing our paper work this time. I didn’t want a helper and said no too several who offered and kept saying no until one who plainly could tell I was getting frustrated just said come on this way and the others backed off. He said he only wanted a couple bucks which was fine especially since I was no longer being hassled. After finally getting the paper work in order, I got back to my bike, found that my gloves had been stolen, cursed this place, and we were on our way to Nicaragua.
The Nicaragua border was much better. There were significantly less people hassling us. Although one kid kept bugging me. He wanted some money to watch our bikes, but since there were two of us we had no need. He didn’t get the clue. “amigo,amigo, amigo (pointing to his eyes then back to the bikes) amigo, amigo.” After a frustrating day I really wanted him to cool it so I knelt down looked him right the eyes, calmly put my finger in front of my lips, “SHHHHHHHHHH.” He was immediately quiet, like nobody had ever done this before. Thank God.
About an hour later we were on our way, the paper work having been processed quickly and easily. What a relief.
Nicaragua was gorgeous, the land along the highway was incredibly lush and green, Full of bustling farms and activity. Especially in contrast to the relatively quiet and dry landscape of Honduras, the people hear seemed busy. I saw three beautiful girls walking through the grass off to the side of the road and was compelled to wave to them. When I looked back all three of them had turned around and were waving to me as if I had addressed each one of them individually. This cheered me up significantly.
The frustration of the day now forgotten with a wave, I was really looking forward to out arrival in Leon and was pleasantly surprised. The city was very beautiful and clean. It also has the largest cathedral in Central America. It took over a hundred years to build, and what a sight it was. We found a good hotel and had a great dinner of local cuisine.
The next day we went to Granada, another beautiful town ridge on Laco Nicaragua. We made plans the next day to head up to El Rama. From Granada it was a four hour ride through beautiful landscape and plenty of windy roads to play on. Our plan was to catch a river boat from Rama to Bluefields. There was one leaving right as we were arriving so we bought tickets and found parking for our bikes in a building right by the docks. I was a little bit sketched out by our parking location because although the bikes would be locked up at night the doors would be open to the general public during the day. We were also being rushed along because we were holding up the departure of our boat. In my haste I got everything packed in my cases and forgot to pack my leather jacket. Not wanting to go through the headache of packing it all again I hastily the jacket on the seat and threw my motorcycle cover on, locked my bike and got to the boat. This would be a constant source of worry over the next day, as I really didn’t want to have my jacket stolen.
The boat ride was pretty exciting because this really was the boonies. The river was lined with banana and mango farms and all kinds of cool ramshackle huts. Although it was a bit uncomfortable sitting in a boat crammed with people on rough water for two hours it wasn’t that bad.
Bluefields was a major change from anything I had seen so far. It was a true Caribbean town. Lots of life, noisy, dirty, and disorganized. There were characters of all kinds roaming the streets. Igor and I found a hotel for the evening and a decent meal. We made plans to get to the airport the next morning to catch a plane to the Corn Islands. However, that nights it poured all night and when we woke up it was still miserable. A quick look at the forecast told us that the weather would not be any better on the islands. It wouldn’t be worth the expense and being stuck on an island if the weather wasn’t gonna be sunny and warm. We took a boat back to Rama the next day and got back on the road. Myself heading to the Pacific coast and Igor to Granada for another night and then to Costa Rica.
We definitely made a good choice coming back when we did. Right now the winds are gusting at like 50mph on the pacific coast and I’m told its pretty much the same throughout Nicaragua right now. I’m staying at a wikid little hostel in San Juan Del Sur right on the beach. Everybody has been pretty much trapped in doors all day because of the wind. Its supposed to die down later in the week to a mild to medium offshore breeze. And with a great swell forecast for later in the week it should make for some good surfing.
Until next time,
Kent
Just want to thank Igor For sharing a few of his photos with me.
A warm coffee in hand, the remnants of a delicious breakfast bagel sitting beside me, and the remnants of this mornings hang over lessened, but still lingering. Happy New Year. My favorite band, Dire Straits, the song “Romeo and Juliet,” playing in the background and when the tension in my fingers ease I can’t help but feel blessed to be here. The Spanish I hear from the other patrons is no longer foreign to me and I pick out words and phrases that have become familiar to me over the last 5 weeks. But alas, my love affair with my surroundings must end in a couple days. Once more into the unknown.
A new cafe, a new cup of coffee, decidedly more delicious than the last, a small Mayan girl wandering under and around the tables, ever persistent, selling her hand made trinkets, and the weight of a few Christmas stories teetering on the brink of existence in my mind.
The big day for Christmas here is December 24th. Although, everyday leading up to this day has had it fair share of fireworks and fiestas, the 24th still takes the cake. The family I live with kindly invited myself and my housemate (James) to join them in their Christmas celebrations and traditions. We begin the evening with a light snack of tomales and bread at 7pm. The tomales are served on a big tropical leaf of some kind and taste kind of like a savory custard. Delicious. James and I sip wine and chat with Jose and Karla around the table for a while. We eventually make our way to the family room where the Christmas tree casts its glow across the room and of course the ever-tempting presents beneath.
The youngest, is beside herself with excitement and is happily chatting away to me in some dialect of Spanish that I don’t think I will ever understand, this a trait belonging to all young ones. I respond with the occasional “si” or nod of the head at the right moments which keeps her lips going in an endless stream of sound. Once she tires of her rather dull and quiet company she takes to doing laps of the house; dancing, singing, and bugging her older siblings when the chance presents itself. Her excitement is contagious and I’m suddenly impatient to get to the presents.
At 11 pm, we are reminded that its time for presents by the kids and Jose, my Spanish teacher, confirms their wishes with a warm smile and a clap of the hands. I feel a bit like an intruder, but I’ve come prepared. Armed with a board game for the family, Bancopoly (the Guatemalan version of Monopoly), I thoroughly enjoy the next half and hour of presents being exchanged and ripped open. As we’re sitting around the tree up to our ankles in wrapping paper the sound of fireworks and firecrackers becomes more and more persistent.
By 11:40, its absolute bedlam. I stand up, open the door, and am greeted with a heavy tinge of sulpher in the air and rivers of smoke flowing down the roads. The sound is deafening. 40000 people lighting off firecrackers, fireworks, and anything else that makes noise at the same time. I begin to wander the streets, presents forgotten. Everybody is on their door step, explosives in hand. Dogs are barking and running around chasing the lights and explosions. Little kids run to the edge of the sidewalk, place their pack of noise makers on the edge of the curb, pull out a lighter, and then run like hell. They have about 2 seconds before a hundred small explosions go off in a 10 foot radius. This quickly becomes my favorite one as the effect is truly impressive when tens of these are going of at the same time along the same street.
I eventually wander back to my house, where the family is happily lighting off firecrackers with the rest of the country. After another 15 minutes, the noise begins to subside and we make our way into the house for a midnight feast of ham potatoes, gravy, vegies, all the good stuff.
Christmas day involves a good sleep in and some light food as the food from the previous night is still sitting heavy in our bellies. It has been a great Christmas, one I’ll remember for a long time.
I’ll give you all one guess what happens on New Year. Yup more fireworks. I spend my new years at my favorite cafe, ‘Cafe no se,’ when translated means ‘cafe I don’t know.’ This place has one of the coolest atmospheres I’ve ever experienced. Everybody knows one another, or wants to. The music is provided by a funky trio who play everything from Sublime to Spanish Flamenco. During a break, I chat with one of the guitarists and I’m invited to jam out a couple of songs with them. I play the 2 songs I know the best. House of the Rising Son and Last Dance with Mary Jane. Its been a while since I’ve played guitar, but its a lot of fun. While I sing one of the lyrics to House of the Rising Sun a lady in the corner stands up gives me the rock on sign and sings a couple of verses with we.
All liquor laws and bar regulations are void tonight so I come home late or early, don’t know which. Hope everyone has had a good new years too.
I’m off to El Salvador on Sunday, then Honduras and Nicaragua. I’ll keep my camera flashing.
Adios
Kent
Merry Christmas everyone!
I’ve been in Tanzania again since December 2nd overseeing the construction of the children’s home and clinic. So far we’ve experienced some delays because the men we hired from the village were slacking off. Things should move forward now that we’ve hired a construction company to finish the job. Here are some pictures of the site. Enjoy!
Antigua has been and continues to be a great place to live. My Spanish is getting to the point where I can carry on a conversation using past, present, and future tenses. When all else fails, Spanglish generally works too. But at the very least I should have enough knowledge to get through the borders and ship my bike across the Darian Gap. I have not done too many touristy things since being here aside from visiting some churches and seeing the sites of the town so I thought is was time for a bit of adventure.
My housemate (James) and I decided we would do a weekend trip the the Mayan ruins of Tikal. On Friday evening we were picked up (an hour late) at our house in Antigua by a little shuttle. The driver clearly had some trouble finding us. After an hour of waiting I was beginning to lose hope that our shuttle to Guatemala would arrive at all. Thankfully I looked way down the road and saw a man beside a shuttle waving his arms in the air at nothing in particular whilst yelling something to the likes of ” KEETON, KEETON!.” Yup that’s me (My name seems to be very difficult for Spanish speakers. I’ve had chenton, keto, chento, kante etc. Even when I pronounce it slowly and phonetically ken - ton, no help). James and I ran over, hopped on the bus and were finally on our way to Guatemala where we would transfer onto a tour bus for an nine hour ride over night to the town of Flores. Smooth sailing from here on out. Hopefully.
I was a little worried about our jumpy looking shuttle driver though. His exuberant use the the horn during the drive though Antigua was just one of the indicators. I was right. The moment we got to the well paved highway it was petal to the metal. We blasted past cars. Houses, people, motorbikes, gas stations; all were blazing by. The poor van had seen this all before however. From the rattle of the worn out doors and the never-ending bouncing of the suspension I could tell this was nothing new. Wait… gas station. That must have been the last one for a while because the driver slammed on the brakes at attempted to pull a uey right into oncoming traffic. No dice. I guess the steering had been abused too. Our driver managed to park right in the middle of oncoming traffic blocking two lanes. As cars screeched to a halt and the horns started blaring and my life flashed before my eyes. Our driver, seemingly oblivious to his passengers duress and the anger of other motorists, proceeded to complete a 3 point turn. Tires squealing the whole way, we made it back to the gas station. Apparently it was also necessary to park within an inch of a brand new looking car so the hose would reach the tank.
Gas in the tank and we got back on the road. The ride continued to be exciting the whole way to the bus depot. But we eventually made it. Our driver told us he would be there to pick us up upon our return to Guatemala on Monday. Yipee!
With the first stage of our journey over I had the nine hour tour bus to Flores and then another two hours on a shuttle from Flores to Tikal. At around 9am the following day we had arrived in Tikal, got a hotel in the park, booked a guide, and eaten breakfast.
Our guide was really great. He spoke half decent English (which we learned he had picked up during a stint working in Texas), had a whole folder full of pictures to help explain things, and a super intense attitude. We learned about the varying stages of restoration the park had undergone, the practices and traditions of the Mayan people, and even got a lesson in social control techniques used by the oppressors within society. We spent about 5 hours with our guide who, in that time, took us to all the major sights and temples to climb in the park. After that, James and I were on our own. Over the next few hours and next day we explored the rest of the park. I took a whole bunch of photos and will have them posted on face book if you’d like to see more.
Tikal was awesome and I ‘m really glad to have gone. Traveling by bus wasn’t so bad either. It would have been difficult to do a weekend trip on my motorcycle. And so here I am, in Antigua and amazed that Christmas is in like 2 days!
“Feliz Navidad.” I used to think that “we wish you a merry Christmas” was the most annoying god awful song to ever grace the airways. The never ending repetition of six words to a tune a two year old could get bored with. Nope. I was wrong. The Spanish have created a song that relies entirely on the repetition of only two words. “Feliz Navidad.” Not does this song lack creativity of any kind whatsoever, everybody and their uncle has their own not so unique remake of it. Each remake worse than the previous one.
How do I know this? The radio station that the kids in the house listen to ensures that a version of this song is played every ten minutes. Minimum.
So I will refrain from wishing you all a merry Christmas or a feliz navidad and instead stick to the all encompassing phrase of:
Have a good one!
Kent
Well I’m still hanging out in Antigua and learning lots of Spanish. I’m planning on heading up to Tikal this weekend which is a massive ancient Mayan ruin. So for now I can promise that next weeks update is sure to be a good one. I hope all is well with everyone and thanks for all the support!!
One month on the road has come and gone quickly. It really does not seem like that long ago I was feverishly packing and preparing for the unknown. Looking back however, I have had such a wide variety of experiences and truly adapted to a mobile lifestyle. Its remarkable for me to see the changes I’ve had to make from the first day on the road to my most recent day of travel. I no longer just get on the bike and ride and make it up as I go. I’ve managed to routinize things like meals, stops for gas and stretching my legs, and finding places to stay for the night. Although I still rely on my instincts heavily for driving and directions, I don’t feel utterly lost in this foreign environment. I didn’t really know what to expect once I reached Guatemala.
Truthfully, I almost envisioned myself having to hire a geologist to advise me on a likely place to drill for gas for my bike. Okay, that’s not really truthful, but you get the idea. Third-world definitely does not mean devoid of modern civilization and the people here are some of the finest I’ve met.
If I’d had a routine for a day on the road in the United States, the same routine would have worked just as well in Guatemala. Its all about the formula you see. My basic routine on the road is as follows:
This information is mainly for those budding motorcycle adventurists, but also for people that are reading this and clearly have nothing better to do. If you do have something better to do however, feel free to skip this paragraph as I will not be lecturing afterwords. I do appreciate the readership after all.
Assuming you’ve found a place to stay for the night, wake up early, clean the hotel room/campsite of all randomly placed items, and pack the bike. Ride for an hour without thinking about anything. Once an hour passes, look for a cheap place to eat breakfast (food stand, 711 or similar. You know those hotdogs that can be bought from those mildy warm, greasy, rolly things. They taste the same down here!), and most importantly don’t second guess yourself, ever (otherwise, you won’t stop, or I won’t at least). Eat. Gas up at next station. At this point, it gets easy, so long as you know where your going (I don’t of course, but most people will need to know this). Ride for hour and a half intervals, whereby once an hour and a half passes, stop for gas and stretch your legs at the first open station. Sometimes it will take anywhere from an hour and a half to three hours to find this gas. Why an hour and a half? Generally speaking, for me, that’s about half a tank of gas, and well, you don’t want to run out. Repeat. If hungry, consciously decide to stop, and do so at the first likely dining establishment. Try something new and that you can’t pronounce. If there is no menu and you can’t understand your server. Rub your belly. This will let them know you are hungry and insure that you don’t end up ordering half a tortilla. Don’t be picky. Learn how the sun works. Or buy a watch and figure out when you have about 2 hours of sun light left, but be generous with your estimate. At this point, look for a hotel. Hotels must meet this criteria: be cheap, have secure parking for bike, not be an auto-hotel (Mexico specific. Don’t tell people if you learn the hard way, or at least keep from those that may find it offensive or unamusing. Feel free to embellish to those that do find it amusing), and appear to have reasonably safe surroundings. Stop at first likely place. Don’t second guess yourself. Unpack. Go eat. Do whatever. Really, it doesn’t matter, you just made it through the day, congrats!
Okay, Guatemala. I crossed into Guatemala at the border in La Mesilla. Crossing was a breeze thankfully and I had plans to make it to the town of Antigua that day. I wanted to cross about half the country in a day. And what a day. Mexico can definitely be considered fairly rugged terrain, but Guatemala is something else. The mountains here are big, like rocky mountain big, but green and less rocky. Anyways, for five or six hours I don’t think I spent anytime riding upright. This is where curve hugging motorcycles and motorcyclists come to die. On a Sunday, the day I was riding, not much traffic is on the roads. For the first couple of hours I was on a tight two lane highway, passing through villages, taking in the incredible landscape.
The farms here are really amazing. Crops are grown everywhere. Some of the slopes were near vertical. I spent the whole day twisting through the mountains and gaining altitude. The two lane highway eventually turns into four, but still very little traffic. And here the fun really began. The pavement was immaculate and I had two lanes, pretty much to myself, for four hours of corner after corner, toe dragging riding.
I eventually found myself in Antigua Guatemala and still haven’t found my way out yet. Kidding. I’m enrolled in a Spanish School, for 20 hours of one on one instruction a week, and living with my teacher’s family in a beautiful litte home right in the center of this bustling town. Antigua is one of the main tourists destinations in Central America and the international vibe here is really cool. It is also famous for its Spanish schools. There are about 80 to choose from I’m told.
I love student life. Especially when the homework is just as optional as it was in university back in Canada. I drink way to much coffee and spend a lot of time cafe hopping. I’m reading books, practicing Spanish with all the pretty girls here (in my head), oh and drinking coffee too. I’m fed 3 meals a day, 6 days a week, all of them have been quite delicious. So life is good. Aside from a weird street fiesta, which involved a couple of trucks, plastered with what must have been advertisements, loaded with speakers and playing blaring Spanish music while some guy walked around with a microphone sounding mildly excited about something or another, all occurring on Sunday morning (my day off and free to sleep in) right at the front doorstep of the house at 8am, yea life is good. Seriously though, this was ridicules. One; sunday is Gods day buddy, two; its 8am, three; my room is the furthest away from the road and is shielded by four solid concrete walls: uhh, tone it down… maybe.
Next week… geography lessons. Some Mayan ruins. Stay tuned.
Now, to translate this all into Spanish…
heh
Kent
It has come to my attention that leaving a comment on our posts is not always working. Please shoot me an e-mail if this happens to you. i_c_kent@hotmail.com
We will do our utmost to remedy this if the problem continues.
Alaska to Argentina Team
I spent five nights with my gracious hosts, Doug and Lyn. Each day I would wake up and make a good breakfast of oatmeal and coffee. It was very difficult to decide which beach I would spend my day at and how much time I would spend lazing around in the water or going for a run, *cough* *cough*. In the evenings Lyn and Doug would often invite me to dinner with them. It was great to have some home cooked meals. I didn’t really want to leave, but I eventually felt the need to get back on the road. I wanted to be in Guatemala in a couple of days, so i could focus on learning Spanish.
After a good breakfast cooked by Lyn, I got back on the road. Once again back on the Mexican 200. This road is truly remarkable. It twists through the rugged terrain, way up on the cliffs overlooking the water, through the lush green landscape, and quaint Mexican villages. Once again, I was rewarded with some of the best riding I’ve ever had.
My first order of business was to get the bike serviced with a new rear tire and fresh oil. Just my luck, I passed by a Honda dealership where I could get this done. The labor cost me about 25 dollars, but my new rear tire was very expensive. I think I got the gringo price, but no matter. The tire was a good one.
After another day on the road I decided to stop at a town called Playas Azul. It stands for blue beaches. And what a beach it was. The surf here was truly incredible. The swells coming in were huge, and the Mexican surfers were out in droves. For the younger generation here, the culture revolves around days spent in the the surf. I decided I would spend at least a day here so I could get back in the water again after a long off-season. Most of the guys in the water were quite talented. But, they were more than happy to have me around and were calling me into waves. It was a lot of fun, but i got dumped quite a few times, being rusty and all. Again, I was perceived more or less as a endless supply of money. Everybody and their uncle had a special deal just for me. I decided I needed to keep going. Tomorrow I would travel through Acapulco which would be the largest Mexican city I would go through. What a shock it was.
So I’m on the 200 approaching Antigua, and its big, very big. Every second or third car is an old Volkswagen Beetle and I’m starting to get nervous, in part from the noise of the city, but mostly from the sheer size of it all. I thought to myself, “just do the same thing, follow the road straight on through, its worked every other time right?.” Nope, not this time. As soon as you hit the main city you go through a light, the sign says the Mexican 200 goes left here, but I didn’t really believe that because signs, like i mentioned before, are often just a waste of real estate. Anyways, I kept going and then the road forks. This time, no signs. Oh great. So I went left because it looked more friendly and was four lanes that were divided. As soon as I turned the corner a mass of white and blue Volkswagen beetles appeared before me, all road markings disappeared and the horns were blaring. Hmm, maybe that sign for the 200 was right after all. So I pulled a uey and went back to that sign, took the turn, and was on my way. Like i said before, waste of real estate. This narrow little road goes up the mountain side loops through a maze of buildings and markets and people and eventually shoots you out 3 or 4 km back the other way on the 200. Bah. So I stopped and pull out my map, of Mexico. No help, looks like the road should sort of bypass the city but its probably really more of an estimate. Okay, who needs maps. I decided to use my keen sense of direction. About an hour and a half later I was back on the road with all the taxis, the bike had overheated, and the sign said i was going to Mexico city. So I pushed the bike through the taxis onto the side walk into some shade and sat down. Maybe the traffic would calm.
At this point two ladies hopped on a motorbike parked next to mine and tried to started it up and get on their way. However, their clutch cable had broken off from the lever. I spent the next couple of hours helping them out to fix their clutch, which I did. Anyways, my had bike cooled down and the lady offered to feed me and show me the way out of the city because she was taking the 200 also. Great. Unfortunately, her bike’s gearbox wasn’t working either and she was stranded. I asked for some rough directions, which I really didn’t understand. But I got one important piece of info. Follow the road I was on and when it forks go right. Okay, so I did this, went through a massive tunnel. Paid a toll, damn it. And there it was, a sign for the 200. I took the turn and yup this was the right road. I was finally on my way out of this death trap.
Needless to say, I stopped at the first village outside of Acapulco, San Marcos. I was rewarded with finding a beautiful hotel which was cheap, a great dinner, and some excellent companions for the evening. In the courtyard of the hotel there was a swimming pool which I decided I would enjoy after dinner. I bought a few beers and was looking forward to a little relaxation. Two other guests had the same idea it seems. Although their plans involved significantly more beers than I was thinking. So we got to talking, actually more or less we played sherades all night. But it was good fun. I had a good headache the next morning but a couple of Tylenol and some water cured me right up and I was back on the road.
My plan for the day was to make it to Salina Cruz which was about 500km away. Not too bad. Although I got on the the road a little late, I figured i could make it. And make it I did, just as the sun was going down. But when I got into town I got a really bad vibe. I couldn’t find a hotel that met my criteria: small, and with secure parking for the bike. So, I took off the sun glasses and decided I would keep going until I found something better. Another, 80 terrifying km later of riding in the dark I spotted a likely hotel in the town of Juchitan. It would do, but it was way overpriced and really dirty. But oh well, they let me take my bike inside the entrance so it would be secure at least.
I was completely fried at this point, feeling a little home sick and alone, and weary from my long hard day. Needless to say I was starving . The hotel I was at really didn’t look like it was in a place with any restaurants nearby. Everything was dark and there was hardly a light to be seen. I got my street clothes on and went to explore.
And there it was, right across the street, just behind view of the hotel. A glowing beacon of North American gluttony. A massive glass gallery filled with all sorts of colorful slides, tunnels to crawl in, things to climb; A eating area with powder-coated blue chairs and tables; and a counter, behind which sat three identical tills and the warm glow of the menu cast across it all. Yup, Burger King.
“Quiero numero dos por favor,” “mediano”. I want number 2 please, medium size. A double wopper with cheese, medium fries, and a drink. This cost me a wopping nine dollars. Gourmet indeed. I was immediately reminded of a paper I once read for a sociology class about the manifestation of fast food in different cultures. In this case, fast food is really for the upper middle class. A security guard opens and closes the doors to the parking lot which was lined with all very new looking cars. A rarity for the most part in Mexico. All ramblings aside however, my wopper was good. I felt just the same after I do when having fast food in Canada: kind of like I need to lay down for a year. I did actually feel better mentally though. I was thoroughly amused to have found this place.
So the next day I rode to Comitan, which is about 60km from the border to Guatamala. I took some back roads to get there, which I havn’t really done to much. But it paid off. The scenery was beautiful and I felt like I got a good sense of what rural life is like in the Chiapas region. It is one of the poorest regions in Mexico. However, the main cities were some of the cleanest and easily navigated I have encountered so far and appeared to be quite middle class. An interesting combination. But alas, I would say goodbye to Mexico tomorrow.
This is where I will leave off for now. I’m currently in Guatamala and will update again once I get some good stories.
Since the internet is usually slower here I will be uploading most of my pictures to facebook as our server is a bit slow. If you don’t have me as a friend, search my e-mail i_c_kent@hotmail.com.
Cheers
Note for Doug and Lyn: I lost your e-mail, could you please send me a e-mail so I can let you know my impressions of the road to acapulco.
some pics:
Vive Mexico,
I don’t know exactly what that means, but I see it on the side of buses that I pass by. The miles have come and gone so fast I can barely think about all I’ve seen. From the dry desert sun to the blistering heat of the tropics, Mexico is a land of many qualities. My experience so far has been good, but I cannot stress enough the importance of language. Many people understand a little English here, but seem to be less than understanding when it comes to my limited grasp of Spanish. Generally, the price of goods and services go up for tourists here. Except when the price is posted clearly like in the OXXO, the Mexican version of 711.
I work on my Spanish every day, however. Mostly this is through the lessons I have loaded on my ipod. But, it is just enough to get by. Thus, I don’t think i will be able to see and experience Mexico to the full extent that this beautiful country has to offer. I see glimpses of culture through my visor, but am too unsure to get too close and definitely don’t feel all that welcome to try.
From what I see, Mexico is a land of radical proportions. Everywhere I’ve been so far, I see people, lots of people. In the middle of nowhere, somebody is waiting for a bus or riding their bicycle. Cars, trucks, van’s, and semi’s are loaded to the nines with all kinds of things. I’ve driven through towns made up entirely of shacks built from the runoff of North American waste. While other places, Peurto Vallerta for instance, are built upon the solid gold foundation of western tourism. The drive has been nothing short of exciting.
I quickly learned that speed limits are not just general guidelines, they are simply annoying white signs with numbers, a big red circle,the word “maxima,” and a complete waste of real estate. I’ve seen the Policia everywhere, but have yet to see a driver being pulled over for speeding. Speed however is just one factor in the excitement, however. Double yellow lines, single yellow lines, spaced white lines, arrows, stop signs, speed bumps, are all just for show and of course there are pedestrians, cattle, donkeys, horses, massive rocks, tarantulas, iguanas, and most importantly, other “law abiding” drivers to keep me on my toes and on my pegs all day.
One other aspect of the drive has been the toll it has taken on my pocket book. Highway 15 is the main way to get from north to south, all other routes meander through villages and may just end altogether at any given moment. The Mexicans know this you see. So they’ve put a toll on the highway. The toll however, is plural. Some days i drove through six or seven of these toll booths. Each time costs around 75 pesos, about seven American dollars. That adds up.
However, four nights and five days of wake up, eat, drive all day, eat, and sleep have brought me to my Mexican paradise. I’m staying at this tiny little RV park just out from this town I don’t know the name of. Its about 130 km south of Peurto Vallarta on the 200. I can see and hear the ocean from my tent and I feel comfortable like I haven’t felt in a while. Ever since i started staying in hotels I’ve felt the need to keep going to get somewhere other than where I was. Right now I think I will stay and take in my surroundings.
The owners of this RV park are Doug and Lyn. Fellow Canadians as it happens. They bought this little piece of paradise as a retirement getaway in the winters. The busy season for RV’s doesn’t start until December and I feel really thankful that i’m able to enjoy this place. Doug and Lyn have made five other RV sites on their land, but I am the only guest right now.
Tomorrow I think I’ll make a cup of coffee, finally. Maybe I’ll do some more laundry, go for a run on the beach, swim, I don’t know. Its been a tough week, but I’m glad I’m here.
Buenas Noches Amigos
Well the last few days on the road have been long and hard. Amid dodging traffic through LA and Southern California, enduring the dry hot and cold spikes in temperature in the desert, and continuing to learn my ny new way of life. Day 6 began with being locked outside of my hotel room after going out to the bike to get shaving cream. Needless to say this would be a fortunate turn of events for me. On my way to the hotel office I spotted a fellow motorcyclist on a loaded down BMW 650. We got to chatting and it ended up that we would be travelling some of the same roads that day. This gentleman, Stu, a grizzled and well travelled fellow, was more than happy to have some company. In fact, he even treated me to breakfast later that morning. Thank you sir!
Stu has travelled extensively throughout Asia and North America on a motorcycle. Infact he lives on the road for almost half the year. He was able to offer me some very sound advice. Anyways, after breakfast we hit the road and boy was I glad that I had Stu to follow thorugh the maddness that was greater LA. I have never seen traffic like that in my life. Four, five, sometimes even six lanes of traffic one way and everyone in a hurry. My poor bike was being pushed to the limit just to keep up with the day to day pace on these roads. After an exciting morning and afternoon, Stu and I parted ways in San Bernadino. I kept up a good pace and made it to Blythe California which is right on the border of Arizona. Once again, motel 6 proved to be the chepest hotel. My room was actually almost identical to the one I had last night which was kind of comforting.
Over the next few days I would be riding mostly through the desert. One night in a truck stop and another motel 6. Another night in Phoenix where I was able to do some shopping and I got a really cool GPS locator and emergency device called SPOT. This has given me some extra peace of mind because it will literally work anywhere in the world and if I find myself in trouble, all I have to do is press the 911 button and the approprate authorities will be notified no matter where I am. It also lets me send my exact location to a number of contacts to let them know I am ok. Because I am not travelling with a phone or really any other way to contact somebody, this seemed like a good decision.
From Phoenix I rode to Nagales which is right on the US/Mexico border. I hope to make it to a town called San Carlos tommorow which is right on the gulf of California. Finnaly, good bye to the US. Its been fun, but really not what I call an epicenter of culture unless truck stops and endless fast food joints count. I’ll be dreaming of all the Spanish I know tongiht in the hopes that I won’t be completely lost. Five minutes later, that dream will be over. Hopefully to extend each night, however.
I havn’t taken many pictures of the desert, its just not that inspiring along the freeways. Anyways, heres the view from my hotel in Nagales.
Day 4
After leaving Cape Blanco bright and early I got on the road in search of breakfast and was rewarded with quite possible the largest breakfast I have ever had. I ordered eggs and minced ham with hashbrowns. What I received was two full plates. On one plate, half eggs and half hashbrowns. And on the other plate, the largest slice of ham I’ve ever seen, which was fried in butter, and two slices of toast. Wow. That meal kept me going the whole day. I drove all the way to Cloverdale California. After a 300 mile day I more than thankful that the KOA campground i stopped at had a hot tub which i took full advantage of. That night I spent some time looking at my maps because i would finally be getting off the 101 in search of a route to Arizona. I decided i would drive through San Fransico and San Jose on the 101 then turn off at highway 46 to get to the I5
Day 5
After a good breakfast of oatmeal and prunes i got on the road. I stopped at the golden gate bridge to get pictures of course and then spent the rest of the day on the road. It was sunny most of the day which was a nice change. However, i had to put on my rain gear once I got onto highway 46. At the junction to the I5 i decided to stop because it was getting dark. Currently i’m staying at a hotel 6. Unfortunately my room, doesn’t have wifi connectivity, but i suppose for 40 bucks a night i can’t complain. Tommorow I hope to get through LA and head east on highway 10 on route to Arizona.
I’ve started to settle in to the traveling mind frame and am feeling more and more comfortable on the road.
Day 3
After a breakfast of oatmeal and trail mix i got back on the road around 8 am and headed south on the 101. The scenery in Oregon is amazing. Stunning views of oceans coupled with quint little towns made for a pleasurable ride. I stopped for lunch at a great little cafe in the town of yacht. Once back on the road i drove for another 3 or 4 hours until i was starting to feel tired. I stopped at a KOA campground, but decided against staying there because it was deserted and the guy was asking 20 bucks a night. I’m really glad I did because the next place to stay was the cape blanco state park campground. It is 5 miles off the 101 and features some of the most spectacular views around. It is very warm here, about 15 degrees or so. I may even get my first night without rain which should give my tent a chance to dry out a bit. Anyways I’m not much in the mood for writing, but everything is going splendidly.
G’night
WOW it poured last night, I practically slept on a bed of water. Won’t make the same mistake again by jinxing myself.
Hey folks,
Have an amazing trans-continental trip Kent! I will also be flying back to Tanzania on December 2nd to make sure the project is in line. We experienced some difficulties in the summer, but I am looking forward to making sure we get back on track to get those buildings up. Our priority now is to complete the children’s homes, and to start the construction of a health centre. Some new ideas have been coming to mind, so stay tuned to see some exciting news in the coming weeks.
Dan
Day 1 and 2, November 8 and 9, 2009
My first two days on the road were exciting to say the least. Among lengthy waits at the border to the USA, battling sickness, torrential down pours, night riding, near catastrophic engine failure, and trying to adjust to this new lifestyle, I’ve come away unscathed.
I left from Maple Ridge around 10 am thinking i would beat some of the traffic at the US border. However, when I arrived the sign fortold waits of around 50 minutes. Needless to say I got to the line up, turned off my bike, and slowly pushed it to the customs area which took around an hour and twenty minutes.
After clearing customs I hit the road hard. Seattle and Tacoma cruised by and I then turned off at the number 12 which would take me to the coast and Highway 101. However it was already 5 o’clock at this point and getting dark fast. I promised myself i would not do any riding at night, but i had been to caught up thinking about getting to the coast to notice the time. I figured there ought to be a campground on the number 12 before, but no such luck. I reached Aberdeen around 6:30 pm and still couldn’t find a campground so i stopped at a gas station to ask around. I met a nice state trooper there who explained to me that about four miles up on the 101 there would be a tavern, called the Artic tavern which would have a place for me to camp for the night. Amid the rain which only was getting worse by the minute, I hit the road again. Around six miles up the road and no sign of a tavern i started to get worried and stopped at the first place on the side of the road which was a little take out restaurant in the woods. Anyhow a gentleman there said the tavern up the road didn’t have camping anymore and told me to head back to the last junction and look for this other little town which had a state park. At this point my instincts were telling me to try the tavern anyways, but i went towards the little town anyways. Around 5 miles later i stopped at the gas station and was told to take a left, then another, turn right at the little grocery store, go up a big hill, then down a big hill, drive along a gravel road for a bit which was really narrow, then look for a lake and a state park. Well then, ok sure. I took one more look at this town headed straight back to the 101 to find that Tavern, which i eventually found.
The lady at the bar said 20 bucks for the night, whatever. I was tired, cold, and wet, and it was a place to stay. I set my tent up in the rain and hunkered in for the night. Just as i was starting to get comfortable and deciding what the best way to cook a little food would be I heard my neighbors, a couple of guys in a tent and a camper, calling at me and asking about my bike and where i was off to. Well we got to talking and the rain let up enough that I could come out to chat.
Angus and Jay. Two fine gents out hunting elk and also fellow motorcyclists. I couldn’t have asked for better company on my fist night in a foreign place. They fed me bratwurst and beer, and most importantly, kept my spirits up.
As good as my company was my campsite was likely one of the worst I’ve ever had. It was about 50 feet from the highway and the road noise kept me up all night. After a fitful sleep I decided to get outta there around 8 am. It took me around an hour to pack everything up again and get the bike all ready to go but i was on the road again.
The ride in the morning was great although wet. After an hour on the road i was feelin awsome. Riding the 101.
I pulled out to pass a truck that was toodling along and hit the gas to whip by. As soon as I pulled the throttle the engine coughed and sputtered and made a horrible noise, oh shit. I immediately pulled off the road and knew what had happened.
Being the sneaky type, I decided to hide a extra set of keys in my air box thinking that nobody would look there. Bad idea. The tin box that i had my keys on had a lid with a bit of plastic on it. When i hit the has the lid got sucked of and that piece of plastic came off. This was sucked through my air box and carborator and into my engine. I stuck my hand in the airbox and came out with the tin lid with no plastic. It was pouring rain so there was no way i could do the repairs here. I looked up the road and saw a farm on the hill. I started up the bike and slowly made my way to the farm. The farmer was outside and I asked him if i could park my bike in his barn for a bit while I worked out what was wrong. Thankfully he agreed and I got right down to work. There was a moment though where i thought it was all over. A little tin box with a bit of plastic just ruined my bike. I’d have to call a truck and take it to a shop where they would say, “sorry son, theres nothing we can to for her, best just let it go.” I was crushed.
But, I wheeled my bike into the barn and feed lot where a whole herd of cattle were munching away on some hay. The moment they saw me however, they scattered. This gave me great satisfaction for some reason. I was some fearsome beast dressed in red and black riding a screaming metal machine. No piece of tin that I foolishly put in the airbox could stop me.
I got my seat and tank off and started digging. I came out with a big piece of plastic lodged in my carb. This likely cause the sputtering as it was cutting off air flow. But, this was only about the half the original plastic bit. I dug another couple of bits out of the valves. All in all i got about 80% of the plastic. So either some fell out that i didn’t see or they were in the engine somewhere, not to be found. Well i did the best i could with the tools i had so i put everything back together and decided i would try my luck.
When i kicked the bike over it roared to life and and cautiously got up up highway speed again. No issues that i could feel. I patted my bike, quietly saying I was sorry and would be more mindful in the future.
By the time i got back on the road it was well after 1 pm. I would say goodbye to Washington afterall. Once I got to Oregan I was blown away. The scenery is amazing. Riding right alongside the water, cliff sides, tunnels built through mountains, and huge surf coming in the whole time. When i stopped for lunch in Manzanita and sat down, I realized i was gassed. I would stop at the next campground and settle in. So here i am, in my tent, writing about two days of high adventure and enjoying the moment thoroughly. The guy at the local grocery store said tomorrow will be nice, and I’m sure he’ll be right one way or another.
G’night folks.
will add the pictures 1st chance i get
My last week in Canada has arrived and so far it has been insane. I will be leaving for Vancouver on Friday and will officially start my journey on Sunday. All those little things that need to be done have added up and will keep me very busy over the next few days. I apologize for the short nature of this update, but would like to encourage people to check back next week and the months to follow. Our efforts are paying off and Dan, the man on the ground with Global Peace Network, has made some incredible progress in part thanks to all your gracious donations.
Cheers
A picture of what my room currently looks like…
My to do list, that’s just one side though
and my helper…
Hello again,
This past weekend was very productive for me. On saturday i spent about 7 hours in a machine shop with my good friend Will. He graciously donated his time and expertise and equipment all in an effort to help my dream machine become a reality. The rack i purchased was built to support a specific soft luggage system and needed to be modified to accept my aluminum panniers and top box.
The first step was to remove the rack from the bike and begin installing radiator hosing over the crossmembers that would support the top box. We then needed to figure out exactly where the top box would sit on the rack. Next, a piece of aluminum angle was cut down and bolted to the front of the top box. This would act as a stop so that the box could be positioned perfectly each time it was taken on and off and to insure that it didn’t come off.
We then had to fabricate brackets for the rear of the rack so that the box had somthing to clamp down to. As i forgot the piece of steel i had purchased Will thankfully scrounged up a piece from outside the shop in the local metal pile. Handy.
Measure twice and weld once. Hope this works.
Looks pretty good. However we discovered that the tubing on the rack was hollow, probably to save weight. However, this impacts the overall strength and capacity. As a result of our ignorance, the voltage on the welder was initially set a bit high on the welder (too hot for hollow tubing) and a hole was made in the tubing. No biggie, just fill it up with molten metal. Once the welder was set correctly for our material we had no further problems. I even got a chance to weld the second bracket (my first time ever). Apparently I’m a natural.
We then had to straighten out the rack using a torch. This is a picture of Will lighting his smoke with said torch. This was right after he explained to me that this particular torch could cut right through well over a foot thick of solid steel. Don’t try this at home kids. Anyways, the metal was heated red hot and straightened. The key to a good bend is getting the metal to the proper temperature which is right before it liquefies. This bend needed to be done with extreme care in part because the tubing was hollow, but also because the strength of the metal couldn’t be overly compromised. As metal bends, it stretches and compresses which naturally weakens the metal. For example, when you bend a paper clip back and forth is will eventually break in two for the same reasons. We would only get one chance. As soon as we got the bend to where we figured it was fairly straight the rack was immediately transferred into a press that insured we got a perfectly straight angle. Will assured me that nothing leaves the shop unless its perfect. Machinists work well into thousandths of an inch you see and well, even weekend jobs don’t get much leeway.
Well wadda ya know. Perfect.
With the top box installed, the bike is finnally starting to look like it might be ready to conquer thousands of miles.
Big shout out and thanks to Will!
On Sunday I took the rack back off the bike and got ready to put all the finishing touches on it. First was a hit with the wire brush and a coat of primer.
Then several coats of silver to insure that rust would not set in.
Next i added all the rubber tubing back on and glued them to the rack using a product called goop. This stuff is magical. It will glue just about anything to anything else. The rubber insures that the panniers and top box do not mount against metal. This will also reduce vibration and insure a secure mount.
I then lined all the boxes with a product normally used to line the inside of kitchen drawers. Works well here too. Aluminum has a tendency to brown and will stain anything put against it. This should help prevent staining of my gear and clothes.
Voila. My final addition this week was a windscreen. To protect me. From the wind.
Last night I took it out for a quick test run with the boxes on, but empty. No unwanted vibration or problems to speak of. Weather permitting I will get out riding fully loaded a few times before my departure so i know what to expect as the overall character of the bike has been changed significantly.
Well thanks for tuning in. Until next time.
Kenton
Hello all,
I would just like to clarify the mission in response to a number of comments i have recieved. The purpose of Alaska to Argentina is to raise money for a meaningful charity (Global Peace Network) and increase awareness of the harships endured by those in less fortunate countries. Global Peace Network is currently working on a project in Tanzania. Please refer to “The Charity” tab for more info.
If you would like to contribute to our cause please send an e-mail to alaskatoargentina@live.com with your name, address, amount per kilometre (ex. $0.01 Can.), and which leg(s) you would like to donate to. We will send you an invoice in the mail once the leg has been completed. Payment can be made by mail or on our website (using the Donate button). All transactions are handled by Give Meaning and they will issue all tax receipts. None of the money is handled by anyone from Alaska to Argentina. Lump sum donations may also be made at your own discretion anytime.
Invoices for the first leg, which has already been completed, will be sent out once the second leg commences.
Cheers
Alaska to Argentina Team
Well, the countdown begins. In just over a month’s time (give or take a week or two for my lack of prudeness) I will be embarking on a journey of a life time. Over the next month or so i will be updating on a regular basis (once a week, every Sunday, or maybe Monday or Tuesday… ok i’ll try to be prudent as best i can) in the hope that i can re-energize and inspire friends, family, and our gracious donors in support of this journey.
I would very much like to get feedback from any and all readers. Use the comment feature on the website to respond to any posting that either John or myself make.
Currently my focus is on gettting the bike ready to take on thousands of kilometers in relative comfort, and allow me to pack a reasonable amount of equipment, supplies, and basic needs to sustain me in any forseeable situation.
I have finally received all my beautiful aluminum panniers which will soon be mounted on my just as new steel rack. Last night I was able to mount the rack and do a test fitting of the top box and get a real good idea on how the side panniers will mount.
This is a picture of the bike before I started toying. It has not changed to much since i last posted pics of it. Recent add ons include an aluminum bash plate and a home made tool kit.
Here is a close up of that tool kit i was talking about. It was made from 3″ pvc piping, a screw off end and a hard mount cap. This helps to keep weight down low and will free up space in my panniers. In it i have a socket wrench, all wrenches applicable to the bike, tire lever, air pressure gauge, multi-tool, and patch kit. Not bad eh. I have a number of other tools that will be kept in a fender bag along with spare tubes.
My bundle of goodies. Here you can see my rack (same one the John used), top box (top left), and side panniers (on the right). Also you can see my kick ass motorcross boots that are nothing short of impractical but should keep me from breaking a foot if i go down. Now, down to buissiness.
Sub-frame has to mount under here:
Easy enough. One with the rack installed:
And another view:
Well, looks good so far. Now on to the issues. The side pieces that jut out from the rack will need to be chopped and welded on straight so that my side panniers will mount of nicely. Thankfully, I know a guy that knows a guy. Should be sorted next weekend.
Here is the test fit of my top box:
The size is perfect. My father and I are currently working on a mounting system that will allow me to lock the box to the bike and make for easy removal. I will have just over 130 liters of space in the top box and panniers. I am hoping this will give me ample room for my equipment and supplies. Anything that doesn’t fit will go into a waterproof sack bungeed to the top of the top box.
Speaking of, over the last few months i have been accumulating all my equipment and supplies. This includes a backpacking stove, wikid cool pot/pan set made for backpacking, med kit, medicine case (malaria pills, anti-biotics, tylonel, and various other “just in case” medicines), cutlery, buck knife, sleeping bag with compression sack. compression bags for clothing, netbook (so i can update on the road), camera, cooking spices, maps, spanish phrase book, and about a million other things. Wow, I hope this stuff fits. That isn’t even counting all the spare parts, chemicals, and oil needed to maintain the bike.
At this point you might be asking youself, how the shit is this man going to live. Well, you are in luck. Let me tell you how I plan to provide my self with all the basic needs that us human beings must have to survive. Keep in mind I learned all this in like grade one and might be a little rusty.
So, first thing is food, check, can buy that along the way (brown rice, oats, eggs, and fresh fruit and vegetables are going to be my staples). Shelter, sort of check, I am looking at a number of shiny new tents that all cost way too much money, but are very shiny and new. However, I will likely settle for my parents old hiking tent from way back in the day which is still in new condition and ready for the worst. Clothing… Check. Got lots, will decide last minute which ones to bring. Music, check, new ear buds with sound isolation (means you can hear them on a loud motorcycle) and a ipod charger that hooks straight into my handy 12v outlet in my cockpit. Basic needs: covered. Check. Oh, whoops, I’ll likely bring water too. It might be a good idea. I hear it can be rather refeshing.
This is my story thus far.
Check back in a week or there abouts. I may even have gotten around to adding device to hold the water in to my check list.
Kenton… Out
Kulwa and Dotto are twins and have been living with their unemployed
uncle since their parents passed away in 2006. Since there was little
family income, they were not able to pay tuition and were kicked out
of school at grade 8. At the age of 19 these two girls are back in
school at Lukobe secondary school. School fees were paid from a
portion of the money raised by Alaska-Argentina crew in April. Kulwa
and Dotto have three and a half years before they can graduate, but
both wish to go to university to study medicine. (Front row, blue and
pink shirt)
Elizabeth was also orphaned and has no home to go to. Therefore we
have enrolled her in an English boarding school using the money raised
at the same fundraiser. She also has three and half more years before
graduation. (Front row, pink dress & green head scarf)
On behalf of the three girls, big thanks to Alaska-Argentina crew,
volunteers and donors. More good things are happening, so stay tuned
for further updates!
 
WOW DAN, NICE HAIR!
Howdy,
Well folks, my preparations are well underway and i’m coming into the final stage before departure. My bike has been registered and insured and all my luggage has been ordered. Over the next month i will be installing my aluminum panniers and top box, changing up the gearing to allow for better milage and highway travel and purchasing a setof long distance dual sport tires.
Knobby tires are not going to be the best choice for this trip as i’ve learned over the last month of riding. They vibrate on the highway and wear very fast. I will likely go for a true dual sport tire (50%street/50%dirt) that is rated for long distance travel.
My basic itinerary is as follows.
Leave date: sometime in mid to late october
First destination: Victoria BC, Have to visit with all the folksout there and of course see my fellow rider John.
I will take the highway along the west coast of the USA until i reach san fransico where i will spend a few nights.
From there i will make my way into Mexico and down through the baja penesula and upon reaching the end will ferry accross to mainland Mexico.
Once i reach Guatamala, my plan is to significantly slow my pace and take in the world around me. I am an avid surfer and will be looking to catch some of the world famous waves throughout central america.
As it stands right now, I would like to be in Costa Rica by Christmas, where some of my family is planning to fly down and visit me.
This is about as far as i’ve gotten with specific travel plans. I firmly believe that adventures are made through experiences. I do not wish to preplan my accomodations or any of the destinations that I find myself. I’m sure John can speak to this as his experiences on his leg were had in much the same manner i wish to.
Finally, I want to thank every body for their support and enthusiasm so far. This journey is epic undertaking and I will likely find myself pushed to limits that i have never encountered before. This support will keep me going.
Cheers
Kent
p.s.
I will be updating with picture of the bike once all equipment has been installed.
As summer is slowly coming to an end, we find ourselves putting new time and energy into the preparations for the 2nd Leg of the Alaska to Argentina journey. With Leg 1 under our belts, and 5466 km already having been traveled, and pledged, and no less than 20,000 kms to go, we look forward to our next section of adventure and our next rider.
In support of our new rider and his preparations, the fund raising team has committed to continue fund raising for the cause during the next University semesters through various events and pledges.
Please check in over the next few weeks to see our riders itinerary for his journey and to see the specifics of what our fund raisers have planned.
Thanks to all who have completed their commitments by paying their pledged amounts for the first Leg! Most pledgees donated a total of $54.66 each, which was equal to 1 penny per km traveled on the first leg! Remember you are always more than welcome to pledge again , for the second leg of the journey if you like by contacting us at alaskatoargentina@live.com and pledging our next rider.
Thanks everyone for your ongoing support!
Dan Budgell from Global Peace Network (GPN) was nice enough to update us on some of his progress in Tanzania. For more details about Dan and G.P.N’.s hard work, check out “the charity” link at the bottom of this page.
“Here’s a picture of the new chicken coop under construction. The fence is still incomplete, but 20 chicken are now living here. This coop will be able to fit close to 200 chicken when it is complete and will provide food and income to the children’s centre.”
- dan
   
We look forward to hearing more about Dans recent trip to Tanznaia in the near future.
Ladies and Gentlemen, The First Leg of Alaska to Argentina 2009’s Charity Fundraiser is Complete! From, Victoria B.C. To North Pole , Alaska and Back, we’re still going strong! Thank You for your support and encouragement! We look forward to updating you on the amounts we’ve raised so far, and where that money has been going!
This Leg of the journey was the hardest on my motorcyclist Ego. I took it so easy on the bike that pretty much every vehicle from Motorhomes to 18 wheelers passed me as soon as they could. For all of you who don’t ride motorcycles, I should tell you that we’re not very used to being passed on the road. The XR650 that I used for this trip was the first bike I ever owned that even had a rear view mirror. So, to say that I drove this last leg slowly, would be an understatement… I was limping home.
I had a hard time focusing on anything but the sound of the bike, I had intended to stop the bike if the sound got any louder or changed at all, but nothing changed. This meant I could carry on as far as I needed to, which meant I was heading to Squamish.
Along with the ferry ride this last leg of the journey was really my most productive pensive time. I must be a bit of a procrastinator, or maybe I just really wanted to relax on my time off, but either way, I had saved most of my determinate thinking until this point. It was a good time to do so, I was grounded after such a nature filled solo experience and I was exhausted, which meant I probably wouldn’t have the energy to bullshit myself… I made a lot of final decisions on topics I had considered in depth along my travels. Decisions about the future and my goals and duties and the like. It was very productive and relieving, and I was heading home.
Upon leaving Terrace with Mike I was forced to go into survivorman mode. I had abandoned all of my gear and equipment in the interest of less weight on the bike. I didn’t know where I was staying or if the bike would make it more than a few km’s. The guys at the shop advised me that the damage was already done to the bike, and I might as well ride it until it fails, if I had no other options. They had told me it was safe to do so, but there was no telling whether the bike would make it 2kms, 20 kms, 200kms or more. I loaded up my jacket as best I could with water, a knife, rain gear, spare socks, spare oil, a few tools and my toothbrush. I figured worst case scenario if I broke down, once I got to the island, I’d have to sleep beside the bike, hitchhike to a phone and call for a tow truck. Not the end of the world, but still not very desirable.
In Prince Rupert I stayed at the closest Hotel to the Ferry as possible because the next morning I was going to push the bike down the road and onto the ferry. I didn’t want it to break down on the mainland and I was pretty sure that BC Ferry’s wouldn’t let me transport a seized up bike onto their ship. I was very lucky to find that a few fellow bikers that I had met up in Chena Hot Springs Alaska had also arrived in Prince Rupert that night. Ben and Scott from Montana are two good friends who have been travelling through BC and Alaska from Montana on a couple of KLR 650’s. These guys were great! We had a couple of beers and had some good times talking about the road. I think they were very interested to see whether or not my bike and I would survive the journey home.
   
The next morning, after a nice little downhill roll to the ferry, well besides one hill, I arrived and boarded the Ferry. This part of the trip was unbelievable. The inside passage route between Prince Rupert and Port Hardi was phenomenal. There are a variety of seats available at different points on the ship where you can just sit and watch the coastline and the ocean for hours. I’ve really never been on a more enjoyable boat ride in my life.
 
After having almost run out of gas, I realized my bike was sounding a little louder than usual. This worried me a little so I I slowed down a bit and began to take it a lot easier. The noise however consistently grew louder over the next 600 - 800 kms. I would have had the bike looked at but in reality there is nowhere I could have taken it. At Bell two, I tried to find a helicopter mechanic, but he was away, and so I made the decision to straight shoot it for Terrace, the next town on the map…
 
Besides the obvious concerns about my bike, the road to Terrace was beautiful with a rugged forest feel and great road quality. At one point near dusk, I saw a cougar cross the road ahead of me which was really cool. Along the way, I kept passing an old VW van which I assumed was stopping to take pictures, but was actually repeatedly breaking down. I found this out later when we both arrived at the same garage to beg for assistance. There problem was simple to fix; their alternator had broken, and they would be stuck for a couple of days. I on the other hand was not so lucky. I guess my bottom end has suffered due to an oil filter issue. Regardless, I was stuck for a few days while we sorted out a plan to deal with the bike and likewise, so were my VW companions …
    
Well, Mathew and Hannah, my fellow sidelined travellers and I, had a great time together, experiencing the ways of Terrace. We ate at Denny’s almost every other meal, watched Ice Age 3 together at the local Movie theatre and invented a sort of competitive cherry pit spitting game. The two, were kind enough to take my gear for me in there vehicle to lighten the load on the bike. We also talked a lot about the fundraiser and the two have considered taking on a leg of the journey and doing their own fundraising. All together we agreed that the break down conveniently ended up becoming a blessing in disguise. Along the way we spent time with Leon, a local mechanic, who kindly organized a variety of rides and services for our entertainment. All in all the people of Terrace really treated us well.
After some valued consultation from the Motorcycle Mechanics at Kickstart Motors, I decided to change my route plan home. Francis, at Kickstart, organized a pickup truck through one of his friends, Mike, which would drive me to Prince Rupert from where I could take the Ferry to Port Hardy. My original plan had been to continue south, on land, through Prince George, 100 Mile house, Whistler, Squamish and Vancouver, but that plan was over now. And so, the next day, Mike and I loaded the bike up, and headed out to Prince Rupert. I said bye to my new friends and headed out, to limp home on a shorter route.
 
After my Hotsprings adventure, I continued on to Dease Lake, through Juntion 37 and over the Cassiar highway. I met a nice young guy who was keen to talk about religion and reality and we had a very inspiring conversation. This portion of the trip is where some of my fortunes failed, while others remained…
  
The cassiar highway is a dream come true for enduro style motorcycles. It switches between rough pavement and dirt for over 400 kms. The road mostly follows the rolling, rocky terrain as it climbs over the pass. This makes for exciting, adrenaline filled corners, hills and crests. It’s one of those highways that you would turn around and do for fun…if there was gas… that’s right folks, up here a vital gas station could end up just not having gas when you arrive. This was the case for me and a variety of other motorcyclists during the day, as we usually can’t carry as much fuel as a vehicle can. Regardless some kind locals filled my bike up with a 5$ jerry can they had and I was on my way, wondering if I would make it to Dease Lake…
 
Well after the stress of almost being stranded, I stepped into a cozy looking restaurant in Dease Lake called Mama Z’s. I met a kind Belgium guy named Francois, Peter; a cook and Mama Z herself (the Z stands for Zora). Mama Z offered me a safe place to stay if I helped out around the restaurant and and I gladly did. There in my motorcycle gear I mopped the floor and cleaned the dishes and had the pleasure of meeting the rest of the staff there. We ended the night by talking about life and adventure… As a single mother, Mama Z had once taken a job as a 60 tonne dump truck driver at the Goldmines. She had a wonderful attitude and personality and a refreshing life success story. We talked about the Fundraiser and she was happy to donate to Dan and Global Peace Network. Thanks for everything Zora
  
Well this section of travel proved to be one of the toughest of the trip. The day was not only filled with rain and wind but I also seriously underestimated the distance I would be travelling. Looking back, it’s usually the tougher times in my travels that I remember the best and most fondly. The landscape and scenery changed significantly as I ‘ve re-entered British Columbia via the Yukon. When it comes to wildlife viewing, this stretch of highway has been the best. In one day I saw 12 black bears, a brown bear, Moose, Buffalo and more. I also had the experience of driving through a recent forest fire, in which the smell of smoke, saturated the air for more than 40kms.
   
However, after a feverishly long day on the bike, I arrived at Laird Hot Springs, really in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. I visited the hot springs through the misty, warm darkness, while 4 moose and their young rested in the mist. Here I really got the feeling of being isolated, the reality of traveling alone, and the dangers of this reality. It is a liberating and terrifying experience to be all alone, I imagine it is the closest I have ever felt to the reality of the natural world. I really felt like I’d imagine an animal to feel out in the wild, surviving by it’s own will. I don’t mean to say that I felt I had created my own destiny, I don’t believe that. I believe there is a Creator, and that we have guides through life. I just mean to say that it was a very real and sobering experience.
    
Later, my night really got interesting when I met a group of 10 treeplanters who had been planting for close to 3 months and had come to the hot springs to relax. Man these guys and girls were great! Most of the group had come from Saskatchewan to plant and really, they were like a great big family. Their dialogs and the way they treated each other really showed a lot of love. They were the first to admit they really got along well, and it showed. Their stories really made me wish I had tried tree planting. Anyways after a couple of bottles of wine, we headed back to the road, where some genius decided we should take the motorbike out for a spin, with as many people on it as we could fit… kind of like in the circus, only minus the professionals.
   
The morning was totally foggy, with a visibility of about 40 feet, and there, after a number of near crash attempts, we successfully got moving! We had done it, packed 4 grown men onto a motorcycle built for one, drunk as skunks, disappearing through the fog. Along the way, as we got going, a long haul trucker passed us… man he must have thought he was hallucinating, as we faded in and out of view through the fog… what a mess:)
The road to Dawson and chicken is called the top of the world highway. At one point on this highway a single drop of water will split and drain down 360 degrees around the whole world. The roads are mostly dirt up here, which I have enjoyed a lot. The bike seems to work better off road than it does on road. Coming through chicken is always an experience. I visited the local watering hole, where a group of local guys were fabricating a plan to woe a group of tavelling european girls. I repeadedly watched their creative attempts turn to failure. As a final act of desperation, they shot fireworks at each other from a small iron mortor gun… it was great.
    
Dawson city was my staging point from which I headed towards Inuvik and the Tombstone mountains. This scenic drive was a perfect Canada day experience. I found a great little beaver pond and spent the evening watching the beavers work…Wow what a Canada Day eh?
I’ll update further when I have a bit more time
Much Love, John
Anchorage proved to be an an amazing city. I was fortunate to meet a really nice couple, Heather and Jeff and their friend Ryan, who are up here working. In addition to these great folk I met the staff of Alaska Motorsports who maintained and fixed my bix on a moments notice. Another highlight of Anchorage came in the form of a true alaskan experience… cleaning and packaging Salmon! One day I managed to find myself part of a packaging assembly line for a group of fishermen who had just caught over 600 red Salmon, 90 of which we cleaned and packaged. It was an interesting but great experience.
  
After Anchorage, I left for the serene mountain highway of Denali Natonal Park. This section of the road really mellowed me out. I spent the night camping in the forest where I was promptly eaten alive by mosquitos. I had to build a series of fires around my campsite and stay in the middle of them to even have a chance. These hungry little guys would fly right through the smoke for a fresh serving of my blood. According to people up here, the mosquitos can take about a pint of blood a day from the cariboo. That night, many a cariboo must have roamed free of bites, as the mosquitos feasted on my ears and head. Oh well my redemption comes every night when I scrape their little remnance off of my helmet… Karma…
  
After this experience, I decided to head North past Fairbanks to North Pole Alaska, where supposedly Santa lives. Actually I happened to run into him, he works at a gas station/liquor store a couple of miles down the road during the slow season. He told me that most of the people I know were doing quite well, except for Jeff Kindree. who apparently hasn’t been on his list for years. He also told me Brandon Biln was barely hanging in there, and might not make the cut this year. “I don’t know about Brandon Biln, there’s a lot of good up and come’ rs this year, we’ll see?” were his exact words… man that guy is tough…
Next, I traveled north to Chena Hotsprings, where I spent a few days in a Yurt, relaxing and tuning out. There was an amazing Ice Hotel up there which was very impressive, along with some wonderful people.
By now I’ve seen my fare share of moose, porcupines, baby foxes and the like. A small bird even kamakazi exploded on the chest the other day… The road is very lonely at times, but also very calming and peaceful. I have been spending a good 8 - 10 hours on the road each day, taking my time, taking pictures and listenting to my ipod (thank you very much Daniele for the music, it has been great) Otherwise, I’m really genuinely impressed at how friendly the people are up here, both fellow travellers and locals, it has really inspired me to ask people about their stories, and there have been some great ones!
   
Soon I will travel on to Chicken, and Dawson City and the top of the world highway, where I’ll update you all further.
Much love, John
Bellingham to Juneau
The trip from Victoria to Bellingham was probably the scariest part of my trip so far as many of the bikes components had not been tested prior to that ride. I just kept thinking, “If I can make it to the Ferry, at least I’ll get to Alaska” and it worked!
Bellingham to Juneau was an epic exeprience as our rugged little ocean ferry passed through the inside passage and scraped by the untouched coastlines of the Pacific. The full experince of the Ferry ride wasn’t realized until the open seas where in people lined the upper decks to loose their lunches over the side. I was almost one of them:) This experience however inspired me to leave the ferry early and hit the great open roads on the Yukon! All together the ferry was great, I met a multitude of wonderful people, each with their own story of adventure. It really was a ship full of people with interesting stories, Soldiers, Open Ocean Kayakers, Helicopter Pilots and Technicians, Scientists and Veternarian students to name a few. Really an adventure in itself. Great people, scenery but horrible, horrible food.
    
Haines to Tok
Like a bat out of hell, I hit that highway hard. In the first 32 hours of riding I had only slept 2 straight hours. The secret is that up here, it hardly gets dark so you really never feel tired. You have to literally put yourself to bed or it won’t happen. I guess it’s like that little kid in me who doesn’t want to go to bed, and up here, there’s no-one to make me:)
The most beautiful and memorable experience so far has been riding in the endless Sunsets and Sunrise and Twighlights. Each part of the suns daily journey is extended, so it’s not abnormal to drive through a 2-3 hour sunset, really, really memorable. As a motorcyclist, I don’t think it gets any better. I’ll turn on some Bob Marley and just cruise…
If you’re a mountain man or woman, you need to see this place. It’s a picturesque dream come true. The magnitude of the mountains and Glaciers is hard to explain, and certainly doesn’t show up in pictures. It’s a real lonely barron place that makes you feel quite small and insegnificant. It’s like being in a place where time has stopped, it’s amazing.
As for gear and the bike. Everything is holding up well, It is colder than an iceage on the road at times, I usually stop the bike right before I freeze and fall off and push the bike for a while, this trick definalty works to warm up.
Tok to Anchorage
I’m heading to Anchorage to have the bike serviced, I’ll write agian soon from there!:) Much love to all and best wishes.
Kind regards,
John
Well, after many months of dreaming about the perfect bike for this journey I finnally made my decision and went with the xr650r. John may have had a little influence on this decision and hopefully he’ll be able work out some of the kinks during his journey from Alaska to Vancouver and fill me in.
Here is the bike when i got it:
After a many long hours of work, its ready to go in for an inspection to make it street legal:
My inspection is still pending because it turns out these bikes are not as easy to legalize as they once were thanks to bureaucracy and red tape.
Aside from my worries with the bike I’ve been working away at my Spanish, with a mild degree of success. I have much planning still to do but would like to wish all the best to John on the first stage of this journey.
Keep checking back because i plan to give updates on the bike and my progress with routes etc.
Cheers All
Kent
Ryan - 1Cent per Km.
Katrina - 1Cent per Km.
Colin -1Cent per Km.
Cristy and Roger - 1Cent per Km.
Jeff and Kat - 1Cent per Km.
Kim and Joni - 1Cent per Km.
Brandon and Cassidy -1 Cent per Km.
Vernon - 1Cent per Km.
Rich -1Cent per Km.
These Fair labour shirts with our logo are available for 20$ from John or Kent. Please feel free to contact either of us through alaskatoargentina@live.com to purchase. Mens sizes M-XL, Womans sizes S-L. Thanks to all who have purchased one so far, and to our shirt model Cassidy Bast. All proceeds go to GPN.
After a long winter off the road, I was ready to test out the capabilities of both the newly modified XR650R and it’s rider. The trip to Bamfield was a perfect test trip because it contained dirt road sections, small windy forest sections and the open 2 lane highway. After close to 700kms, I’m pretty impressed… and sore.
the bike fully loaded
Some inspiration from the past…1991 to be exact.
I think this little guy just wanted to check out the bike
oh the places you’ll go
Thanks to all of you who came out and helped for our fundraising weekend, here’s a quick synopsis of the events…
Victoria - April 3rd, was a huge success. The Keytar Warrior started off an awsome show to a crowd of around 70 people, followed by the Virgin Space Cadets finishing with DJ Longshanks. The night pulled in over $1800.00 towards our efforts
  
Squamish - April 4th, poker night was wonderfully organized by Brandon Biln and Cassidy Bast, the final upstairs showdown came down to Marion Biln (the host of the venue) and Dan Budgell (founder of GPN), with Marion cleaning up after the last hand. All table winners donated their winnings back to the charity. The night ended with a total of $650.00 raised for charity.
Vancouver - April 5th, a classic dinner event, held at Chai and organized by Zara, Dan and friends. A truly unique experience filled with middle eastern food and music and full of good friends. This evening pulled in over $600.00 for Global Peace Network.
So, we’re off to a great start! Thank you to all who where there in person or in spirit, and especially those who helped with the events. We’ll let you know when the next good times will be! For now it’s back to preparatios and training for the trip, and gathering pledges and donations.
Keep an eye on the site, as Dan will be sending photo updates as to how some of the money is already being used!
Thank you - alaskatoargentina fundraising team
This is the first post in a series that will unfold as our riders undertake their journey.
Stay tuned!
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