Course we didn’t have any Chilean Pesos and there was no ATM, bank or even a tienda for smokes, nada. They wouldn’t even accept Boliviano’s but luckily we both had some American money.
After looking over the bike and putting her to bed, I showered and had a couple of beers in my room. What a day. The family who owned the hotel were very kind and Senora made us a delicious soup, and noodles with meat ( not Lama but the smallest of those animals that starts with a V I think), with red wine. Later Crawford went back to his room to study maps and such while I hung with the family watching a Michael Jackson impersonator, very funny. We all were lauging together. The youngest, I can’t remember her name right now, well she was pretty, smart and had a good command of English for a ten year old.
I had a great sleep, the quietest place I have slept since being on the road, not one sound, nothing, dead quiet even with the window open. The next morning I was depressed when I looked at my bike, and the thought of a few hundred more kilometers of bad road to civilization really was daunting. Of course I was more sore than yesterday and my confidence was not fully intact. Even Crawford who is a more experienced rider than me with nobier tires was not looking forward to the days ride. ‘Aren’t you sick of this road, he said. Yep, I am’.
Well it sure is pretty, if not completely barren and lonely. Then another problem, my bike was losing power, as if the bike wasn’t getting gas, and then finally I could only ride in 1st gear and not over 4000 rpm. Shit, not now, not here. So we checked to see if the petcock was flowing by removing the line to the tank. For some reason it wasn’t flowing gas in the usual position.(In Columbia I replaced this petcock for a Chinese version that was backward, On was not on, Reserve was not reserve) So Crawford and I figured maybe I was running on Reserve so we switched it to the other position and gas was flowing so off we went again.
But no, same problem again. I chugged along until we came up to a lone abode with tractor and such. We asked the guy if it was possible for him to put my bike in the truck and transport me to Calama but he said he could not today, maybe tomorrow but no guarantee. He said there were some mechanics in a village about twenty minutes by car which meant at my speed two hours. Alright, so we chugged out of the there and about thirty minutes later I couldn’t even go up a slight hill so I pulled over. Crawford and I talked about he carbeurator and such but then we both at different times wondered if the air filter was clogged, and finally decided we should have a look.
I started the bike without the filter and it ran normally. So we went to work pouring gasoline from my bike through the filter. I used my toothbrush to brush it clean and Crawford rinsed the filter some more with gasoline.
After cleaning thoroughly, we hit the road again. Whew, it was running well again. Funny how one can overlook the simpliest of things.
Then we came to a fork in the road, with three choices to make, when a truck rumbled up we stopped them to ask which was to Calama. They were a German couple and they had a great truck/camper. They confirmed which road to take and then the woman said in broken English, ‘The road is very good after the village …. it is made of salt, she said wondering if she chose the right English word. Crawford and I looked at each other and he asked, Is it very deep, holding his hands apart about five inches. No she answered unsure of the question’. So off they went leaving us to contemplate this mysterious road ahead, which is always the case and no one ever really tells the truth, honestly that is. As Ken Duval says, ‘When was the last time you rode this so called good road?’
And much to our surprise we hit some pretty good broken pavement. Yes!
Niether Crawford or I could truly trust this road and every now and again some bad parts appeared, but it was sure better than the last hundreds of kilometers we had travelled in 1st and 2nd gears. I even got up to 4th gear!
And then the beloved black top with painted lines! Wow, 5th gear! And leaving the lonely beautiful mountains and volcanoes.
When we reached Calama, it was such a relief to be in civilization, banks, a mall, a movie theatre, people wearing modern clothing, shops, trees everything. We got some money out of an ATM and then Crawford said, ‘I wonder what I should do’. I was thinking this when we first hit the okay paved road when I had time to think instead of manouvering through the dirt and sand. He has to get down to Ushuaia and up to Buenos Aries and home to Chicago for Christmas to be with his family. I need to take a few days to fix my bike before I go anywhere. The darn thing was rattling to pieces and the duct tape was falling off and my gear shifter was cutting a groove in the side of the motor and I was low on brake fluid and more and more stuff. It was Saturday so nothing was going to get done on the weekend so we said our good-bye’s. Crawford started his bike and said,’Do you know that song, On the road again. Yep’. And off he went. I tried to take a picture of him riding away but the batteries died just then. Quite a metaphor really. So I rode around Calama trying to get a hold on the vibe and I did. I found a nice little hotel with parking for my bike, Hotel Casablanca. They were really friendly and they gave me a discount of $10 dollars per night, for a total of $40 a night. People had said that Chile was going to be expensive. My room is on the main floor near the front desk, the kitchen and their residence which made humping all my stuff inside a breeze. I had to strip the bike so on Monday I could find an Auto body shop to bend and mend possibly with fiberglass, and figure out the electrical problem, no signal lights; probably a fuse or a disconnected wire. Whew, what a relief to be here I was thinking. My room is perfect, free breakfast and wifi that works in my room! Yes! Then a while later after a couple of beers I was talking with the husband Javier and it turns out he has a shop. Yes!
Later on I went for something to eat and walked around a bit. Nice small city. I worked on this blog, the Bolivia part until I could stay awake no longer. Today, November 15th, 2009, oh shoot it’s my Mum’s birthday, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUMSIE, I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH! I’ll call you later tonight. Anyway today, I’ve been in my room all day working on catching up with the Chile portion. Javier just invited me to sit with his family and staff for lunch so I gladly will. Then tomorrow morning at 9am he will lead me to his shop and mechanics and we will go about fixing the bike. Much work to do. I also read an encouraging email from Carol and Ken ….
On Sat, Nov 14, 2009 at 4:10 PM, Markus W <sawyertwo@gmail.com> wrote:
Ken and Carol,
Crawford said that you two wanted to know if we made it out of Bolivia okay and I’m happy to say that we did. We made it as far as the border, no problem when I explained the no paper thing for the entry, he believed me and stamped me out. The next day, today, we rode into Calama, Chile and landed at around 4pm and it is there that Crawford and I said our good-byes. I have a great deal of work to do on my bike as I had a big crash some 80k outside of Uyuni. The full details will be posted by tomorrow, Sunday. www.flibbertgibbet.com
I trust you two are as good as always and maybe I will see you at the HU meeting in wherever that is. Note to self: must get better maps and tour book of Sud America. I found a good hotel here in Calama, internet in my room, no lock on the door, nice people, and the husband has a auto body shop and he said he would take me there on Monday to fix the bike. Major crash as I said before …. I was catapulted 20 feet from where the bike went down, which I believe rolled based on the evidence of the damage. I’m sore and okay, just like the feeling after a heavy hockey game, no problemo. I like you both very much and would like to see you and others at the HU meeting so it’s probably best that Crawford and I split as he has an intense schedule ahead of him. I kept thinking what Ken said, ‘Always preserve the bike’.
Markus
PS The road down is difficult but not impossible, but very trying especially on a broken bike. It’s a lonely beautiful ride.
On Sat, Nov 14, 2009 at 8:30 PM, Ken and Carol Duval <bmwduval@hotmail.com>
Greetings from Sucre. We are glad to hear you have made it out OK. Very sorry to hear about the crash. Despite this sad time you will probably make friends that will be with you for the rest of your life. The adventure will continue and the crash although hard and uncomfortable will be a huge learning curve… We are experts…. he he he he ….
We hope you can make it to the H U meeting at Viedma south of Buenos Aires on Ruta 3. There is a lot of postive energy at these meetings and all people there will be from similar molds….
The maps and guide book are a must. You are now a fully fledged independent traveller who can tag on the tail or travel with other travellers.
Our time schedule is in tatters and we are looking to see how we can fit in all our desired roads. Maybe we will need to shorten it a little.
Did you feel the earthquake in the North West of Argentina near the Bolivian/Chilean border????
Hugs from the Aussies and keep in touch.
Carol & Ken wrote:
It’s funny when I first met Crawford in Peru he said that he wanted to ride with someone through Bolivia, and not alone. Well, we certainly did just that. Thank you Crawford, for one heck of an adventurous ride.
The next day, on Sunday, Domingo, while I was in my room catching up with the photos and the words, Javier the owner of this hotel invited me to sit with them for lunch. At first I said I was too busy but then I gratefully accepted.
We had delicious pork ribs, avacodo with celery, potato salad, onions in a spicey salsa, olives, chips and really really good wine. Javier recently sold his grand restaurante, too much work too much time, and he and his wife Gladis also moved out of their apartment into the hotel to keep an eye on things. They have two hotels, a cafe, and a shop where I’m to fix my bike, from what I understand. Anyway, lunch turned into a joyful evening. Javier’s friends reminded me of us four horseman in Toronto. Fellas, you had to be here. I laughed so much it reminded me of my sore body, the right side of my ribs, and we laughed even harder when I would clutch the side of my body. I feel like I am at home here, a part of the familia. And of course after hours of broken English/Spanish, we all just gave up and started speaking with our natural tongues, which ironically works just as well. I find that if I don’t try and understand each individual word, and just listen to the whole without interruption, I can understand a great deal more. By the way, Javier reminds me of my Mum’s man, Wally Boone. His timing for humour is impeccable, and in a deep bassy voice come these English phrases. My oh my did we laugh; just what the doctor ordered. Now I have to get busy with the bike ….
This is Roberto and Allen who helped me with the bike today. We all worked in silence because of the language barrier, but it was a pleasant day with the music and the work.
My shifter has been rubbing up against the side of the engine so after it’s taken out a pretty good groove I thought it might be time to do something about it ….
… so I bent it ….
… here Allan is putting the fairing back together with a bond like JB weld …
… then Javier said ‘Let’s go’. So I left with him and we picked up Gladis his wife, Paulo his nephew and Patricia who works for them at their new motel, (the love shack) and we went back to Hotel Casablanca for lunch ….
… when we got back to Javier’s shop (Terramotors cell: 99789919), Roberto was cleaning my bike with air and water. There was so much gravel from the crash in spots ….
Javier took my panniers and the metal bracket for the instruments, plus one of the metal brackets for one of the panniers to another shop to be bent back into shape. Javier asked them to finish the job today and they did. Here Roberto is painting the metal where the knew welds were made.
… and here Roberto used a soldering gun to heat and melt the plastic back together where it had broken ….
….. and then Roberto took an old container for some kinda fluid to stitch my fairing together ….
…. and then Roberto signed my Sud America rock from Machu Picchu ….
Later we had a drink in the office before riding back to Hotel Casablanca.
And later on Javier and I went next door to a restaurant to meet a few more of his friends.
The pictures are all a bit blurry and so were we …
The next day after sleeping in until noon, I went to find some new mirrors. My mirrors were 8mm and theirs were 10mm so these guys figured out a way to fix them by removing the Kawasaki spacers that help with vibration, to discover 10mm female threads. The spacers don’t help that much anyway so no problem, I can now see behind me again.
And later on I re-glued for the third time, the Equadorian dagger onto the front fender, a Bolivian emblem on the Pannier and also a Chilean one made of copper, and the little mirrors onto the big mirror for a wider look for those quick decisions. I walked around Calama looking at this and that, without the camera, and decided that I will stay one more day since this city has been so good to me. Plus Javier mentioned that the largest copper mine in the world is only 20km from here so I thought I would ride over and have a look tomorrow, and maybe even catch a folk music concert at the teatro just a couple of blocks away. I’ve also realized that my back is kinda stiff and sore so I think one more day is in order.
Excerpt from journal … Day 143 Puno, Peru to La Paz, Bolivia A nice easy ride, very peaceful. And even though the border was crazy, it was calm. No problem getting it done and riding into La Paz, except the Policia didn’t give me any documents for the entry. Should be hooking up with Crawford tomorrow or Sunday to head south together. I’ve only known him for 10 minutes but what the heck eh. Again I can’t sleep, I’m so tired, for the moment I go under I wake up, not even a second of sleep, it’s like my body is worried about oxygen. So I’m up watching ‘Taxi Driver’. Three nights in a row with only six hours of sleep in total. It’s so weird, I’m so fucking tired. November 6th, 2009
For a far away as I can get, to not be married to any beliefs; an animal in the jungle; an elf in a tree. Obama Day 2009
Christmas Day 2009; Have you ever noticed when talking to a dog without speaking; with whom you have an affinity with; well do you ever notice they either wink at you with one eye or two, that they’re saying ‘Yeah I’m good, you?’ Just tonight I winked back at Jasmine(Jaz), when we both wondered ‘Are you good, do you need anything?’ Well after the wink she went back comfortably to sleep as to say yeah I’m good and I know you are too.
January 3rd, 2009 To Jaz, if you want to play the game then give me the ball here, and if not then all the power to you, for not giving into the game, still though Jazzy, it’s fun to play the game alone without anything more than catching the ball.
Life has been difficult, haven’t worked since July, spending fake money from a line of credit, sleeping in for as long as I can so I don’t have to wake up, haven’t been eating well, fake food, drinking too much, staying inside most of the time, plagued with hockey injuries, the economy is freaking out and I’ve been desperately trying to stay focused and work on the house to sell in the worst time imaginable, to set off on our bike’s with Scott to regain some lost confidence over the years. A vulnerable weak feeling, lonely, desperate and yet unwillinging to reach out, it’s all me who has to leave to understand myself i think however the tinkering with house and bike has taken on a new urgency, for only onew week until I list the house and only four months to pack the bike and ride out to the great beyond of my stagnant soul. This is definitely one of those personal deals when one feels a great change is coming, this one greater than all, as this one has nothing to do with a woman, or a loss, or someone else’s idea, it’s all me this time, which makes it even harder to self-motivate at times. Often I start something and can’t finish, like breakfast or reading something good, or fiddling with something, and did I mention the news?; nothing good at all, trillions of trillions lost, protectionism, jobless people, company’s going under and lot’s and lot’s of people freaking out all over the world. It’s as though we’re at the beginning of a witch hunt, and everyone may fall victim to a lack of general security, if you know what i mean. I’ve never lived through something like this in my 42 years, and I started the jobless thing well before most of all this shit hit the fan; and I’ve been watching, reading and listening every day, so much so I feel my heart beating rapidly, especially after a night of drinking wine to forget about it all. The cycle keeps going on and on, over and over again, and every time I hear anything bad which is almost all the time I say fuck, we’re fucked. What the fuck, I gotta sell this house right away and hit the road with my bike; for i find something more interesting than the markets crashing, and the murders murdering, and the media’s sensationalistic reality; for some shit that doesn’t have any meaning while nearly stepping in others that smell like good honest shit … well … there is no comparison from one or another. Sometimes i think this whole economic melt down is only good for the soldiers at war, as for them they are unaffected and have been living in pain and suffering more than the civilised world. Of all the times in my life I’ve felt I might need some counselloing this is surely the heaviest of all. Almost every thing I see and hear is with doubt and pessimism, hatred really for most things, a dire self absorbed fear all around me. And yet a very small part of me still insists in believing in the universe, and therefore I am here to write something about depression and some kind of ‘ism’. I can’t even spell the words, cause it’s the only way I can sleep without restless dreams and an uncomfortable sleep, counting useless numbers that tell things about people from other worlds we don’t know. Numb the mind by thinking of good things where ever I can find them and most of all don’t listen to all the other people who are fumbling about in their own great ways; constantly giving the sponge some water to absorb, making me even more anxiety ridden as I was moments before. And the very worst of all of this is that I feel like i’m dying, slowly, and painfully; even though i was at my friend’s funeral, Chris Howard, who fell off his roof fixing the satellite in the middle of a hard winter. This man of eternal energy and positive vibe, one who is now dead, though not in spirit, as a thousand plus people wil contend, he is still here. Anyway I feel I’m a selfish fool for even thinking about myself when so much is more in the case of Chris’s wife Mandy and their ten year old daughter (Alex?). Nothing is fair especially to the ‘hoipolloi’, the serfs, or the average souls like you or me. Everyday these economic whores, sorry woes; is; the rich are going to get richer and the poor are going to get poorer and the middle class are going to pretend they are niether even though they too will become part of the majority one day. So anyway …. all that I can grasp without a job or distraction, with no real money of my own, is selling the house, riding my bike for as far as i can geet, and starting new again. Like before when i was younger and without fear; just to pack up and move on, contrary to modern civilizations idealising, or conforming. and that being said, i can certainly predict that i will experience the same things but different along the way.
Dreams are just dreams; and dreams are everything.
February 12th, 2009
i, you, and me, or the other kind from thee, sallude, cheers and again, dulce swaynous and forever and ever beau reve…………………………………………………………………………………………….
What diference does it make when one is not the same; when one is just the other, like an apple, or a pear, it makes no difference, the hoi polloi live strong, and only the evil one’s carry on a desperate fool on a run …. no lo say … a desperate fool on the run …. life is simple …. you just gotta believe in a plenty ….. in a cespool of lovelyness …. in an understanding so complete ….. like butter and pan, or marmelade clouds ….
Click on GoItAloneBeck to listen ….
GoItAloneBeck
I’m comin over
See me down at the station
By the lane
With my hands in my pocket
Jingling a wish coin
That I stole from a fountain
That was drowning all the cares in the world
When I get older
Climbin up on the back porch fence
Just to see the dogs runnin
With a ring and a question
And my shiverin voice is singing
Thru a crack in the window
I better go it alone
Down on the corner
See me standin
On a makeshift road
With the dust storm blowin
In a long black shadow
Pull a hammer from a coal mine
Down where your daddy was workin
Comb my hair back
Strike a match on a bathroom wall
Where my number is written
Drivin on the sidewalk
Lookin back and the sky is burning
In my rearview mirror
I better go it alone
After riding out to the largest copper mine in the world, I headed back to Calama, slowly. Not to keen on riding these days, so rather than fight it I stayed in Calama, I suppose because it’s comfortable and I’ve been taken in by Javier’s family, well I’ve just been taking it easy. I watched France cheat their way to South Africa much to the disapproval of Ireland’s team. And later on with Javier, Paulo, Gladis and some other guys who are staying at the hotel, we watched Uruguay’s team win to qualify for South Africa. That’s Calama in the photo below, in the far distance …
Tomorrow I’m heading toward Argentina, and eventually to Foz do Iguacu, the largest falls in the world. And if things go well, Rio de Janeiro and then back down to Viedma, Argentina for a Horizon’s Unlimited meeting.
Below are some photos and videos of Ken and Carol Duval, Crawford and I riding Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia, courtesy of Carol Duval.
(note to you …. if you want to try something kinda cool make two pages of FTG and then go back and click on Beck’s ‘Go it alone’, and just when the first lyrics become, click on the second FTG page, ‘Video #3′, on full screen, without the pointer in the middle of the screen, that’s for you Berchtold.
I get it more now suddenly …. just now … again … I am here because this casa is a home away from home, the perfect place to heal …understand … and to love. Honestly, these people here remind me of my direct family, in so many ways, exacto ….
Click here … and one day too, we may also be truly free ….
No one I think is in my tree, I mean it must be high or low.
That is you can’t you know tune in but it’s all right.
That is I think it’s not too bad.
Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.
Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.
It’s getting hard to be someone but it all works out.
It doesn’t matter much to me.
Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.
Always know sometimes think it’s me, but you know I know and it’s a dream.
I think I know of thee, ah yes, but it’s all wrong.
That is I think I disagree.
Let me take you down, ’cause I’m going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.
Strawberry Fields forever.
Strawberry Fields forever.
The Beatles (John Lennon)
The other night I was walking with Paulo and we heard this music …. sorry for the distortion …. not listening to the recording while recording ….
Hey thanks Bruce, for taking the time to investigate the sound thing and also for the motivation to get it done. This is going to work out just fine!
ClickHereWalkingInChincha,Peru
A friend sent this to me saying’I had to ….’, and I agree ‘I had to too’.
A cowboy named Bud
A cowboy named Bud was overseeing his herd in a remote mountainous pasture in Alberta when suddenly a brand-new BMW advanced toward him out of a cloud of dust.
The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, RayBan sunglasses and YSL tie, leaned out the window and asked the cowboy, “If I tell you exactly how many cows and calves you have in your herd, Will you give me a calf?”
Bud looks at the man, obviously a yuppie, then looks at his peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, “Sure, why not?”
The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it to his Cingular RAZR V3 cell phone, and surfs to a NASA page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite to get an exact fix on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo.
The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop and exports it to an image processing facility in Hamburg, Germany.
Within seconds, he receives an email on his Palm Pilot that the image has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses an MS-SQL database through an ODBC connected Excel spreadsheet with email on his Blackberry and, after a few minutes, receives a response.
Finally, he prints out a full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech, miniaturized HP LaserJet printer, turns to the cowboy and says, “You have exactly 1,586 cows and calves.”
“That’s right. Well, I guess you can take one of my calves,” says Bud.
He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on with amusement as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his car.
Then Bud says to the young man, “Hey, if I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my calf?”
The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, “Okay, why not?”
You’re a cabinet minister from Ottawa, says Bud.
“Wow! That’s correct,” says the yuppie, “but how did you guess that?”
“No guessing required.” answered the cowboy. “You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked. You used millions of dollars worth of equipment trying to show me how much smarter than me you are; and you don’t know a thing about how working people make a living – or about cows, for that matter. This is a herd of sheep…..
Now give me back my dog.
Everything is everything here … like my own old place … where everything is under one roof … thoughts, ideas, dreams and nothing too … tranquillo nothing … peace, serenity, face … no’s yes’s maybe’s and okay’s … problems, not so many … many, no lo say … fear not … fear no existo … feliz si, mucho feliz mucho mucho … tears, food and laughter … na na naaa … na na naaa … na na naaa … masse bien loco por favour … masse …
Excerpts ….
Hey Marc,
How are you my friend? I miss you guys, and wish we could have a glass of wine, a bottle of wine, a couple bottles of wine together. How are your new neighbours, any gossip on the house? I assume you’ve been checking in with my site so I won’t rewrite everything again.
Markus
Hey…..
First let me start off by apologizing for not writing sooner …I suck at keeping in touch,
I started a few emails but they ended up sounding like I was some heart sick ex girlfriend….
Let me just say it and get it out of the way ….It was very sad the day you left…….
Joan and I drank a bottle of scotch that night…….You were a great neighbor and you became a great friend….
I have many fond memories and I do want to thank you for every thing you did for me and of course for our dogs…..
Please know that although you no longer have a house on Wright Ave., you will always have a home there and a place to stay should you ever need one….So on that note my friend …I will try and write more often….
Please know that Ralph, Bruce and I always check in on your blog after a few beers and raise a glass to your adventure……
It looks like you are having an incredible experience…..I have to admit now that after reading and following your blog, I am looking at motorcycles now…..I want a 70′s Triumph or Norton……
I can’t imagine all the things you must be seeing and experiencing…….I hope it is everything you hoped it would be and if not I hope it is better……I always look forward to checking your site and seeing where you are and what you are up to………Keep up the blog…..
Its a blast…More pics……
As for us…..I am making sure Inara doesn’t forget…….I still say “Where’s Markus?” and she runs over to your house….The hole in the back yard is gone…..But I do let her run around and into your yard once in a while.. Anyways….FYI though ….One of your kitchen cabinet door hangs in my house in a place of honor….I think if you decide to move back we will have to come up with a plan to get the house back for you……
What else?? Oh yea…A bit of bad news, Jay has passed away ..It has been a few months now……It wasn’t a good situation , he died at home a few months after you left…Mary is doing as well as can be expected…..I hang out with her when I can, Amber has gone off to university so Mary is in the hosue by herself…..But she is hanging in there…..
I had a flood in the hosue a few months ago…Washing machine broke…….Sounds bad but I am having a pretty substantial renpo done at the Insurance Company;s expense………Its all good…..
Joan is good….She just called and sends a big hug and said to tell you she misses you a lot…She leaves in two weeks for India for 5 weeks….
Inara is the same …Goofy …Not as well exercised as she was a few months ago…But still a happy dog…They are fencing in the dog area t the the park in the spring…A pretty big area so we can go to the park at anytime….
As for me……Its all good…Still working …Doing the Olympics in Whistler…….No woman yet…Joined a gym though…Working out , getting skinny and in shape…..I can’t complain ….
So on that note , I will write more ofetn than once every 5 months……..
Stay safe buddy…….WE all miss you……I look forward to those many bottles of wine when we do get together again…..
Ahhh man you made me weep. Being on the road for so long reminds me of that Tom Waits song, ….’never knew my hometown till I left … ‘ or something like that. Thank you so much for the email, I would like to post on the blog because it is the closest email to my departure, to our street, to our friendship and my favourite dog in the world. Ahh man I’m crying …. which door did you hang in your kitchen? Please take a picture and send to me …. I’ve been resting here in Calama, Chile, sort of just keeping in touch with people, watching TV, listening to music, smoking, drinking and sleeping as though it is a Canadian winter. My internal clock must be sensing the change. These people are so kind here at Hotel Casablanca, like family. I don’t want to leave, but I must go ….. ‘You say good-bye, and I say hello, hello, hello …’.
Markus #4 hockey jersey, #48 old home, #4current habitaccione, #4found everywhere, #4secret to genetics, #4times I remember something I’m supposed to remember, #44my friend Scott’s email address, #4 444444444444444444444444444444
TomWaitsLookinForTheHeartOfSaturdayNightTomWaitsTheHeartOfSaturdayNight
This is for you Dad directly from EJohn, cause you know this so much, like all my good friends …
Yikes …. a little too much, time to ride the bike ……………………………………………………………….
Except not today. Javier’s friend Georgey is having a bbq tonight and he wants me to join the fiesta so as I said to Javier last night, no man can refuse an offer of food in his name. And look at the picture below …. my five month old nephew, Mason.
For as John had said … ‘…. okay guys let’s lay down and sing to your mother or sister or anybody that’s of the female race, cause that’s who you’re playing to …. it’s only the guys who like that heavy shit’.
It’s definitely time to roll …. too much time to wonder and remark … though John is correcto ……
No BBQ, Georgey had to work late, tomorrow afternoon; instead a nice dinner and good company again. ….. and a couple’a nice pictures ….. I never saw Gladis stop moving since I arrived seven nights ago, except tonight ….
Sometimes timing isn’t perfect, and sometimes timing is just so, for whatever reason …. and for whatever reason timing does not exist in reality really … for it’s only a heartbeat gone awry ….
I don’t know what it is but again I woke up this morning, not willing to pack up and go. Instead I watched three separate shows; one about the 950 miles these people trekked through Africa on Livingstons trail, the second about a guy named Mike who is tracking elephants in Botswana, and the third about various artists and their natural abilities; all three talking about the tremendous difficulties in relation to self-motivation when things get tough. Well, I cannot even compare to these other people, but it sure was nice to hear what I needed to be reminded of, just what the doctor ordered. I don’t know why I’m kinda low, but rather than fight it I thought I would just go for a long walk. The night before, food and drink with Javier’s friends.
On the walk I found a Mexican restaurant, a weird and dark place playing rock and heavy metal concert DVD’s. ‘Rush’ was playing live, which was quite a rush, being that I like strange coincidences. Also not really knowing much of Rush, I was floored by how tight they were, and also it was reasurring to see a Canadian Band from Toronto, Canada. Anyway back in Toronto when planning this trip, a friend of mine, Tatianna, lent me this motorcycle book, knowing that I was reading every moto book I could get my hands on. Plus she is connected through her sister’s husband or something like that I forget exactly. The book is called ‘Ghost Rider. Travels on the healing road’ by Neal Peart, the drummer of Rush. At first I thought, what’s this guy gonna teach me, a drummer for a huge band? I started reading in the kitchen of my house on a cold winter day, and didn’t stop for two, until I was finished. I cannot compare Neil’s story with my own, but loss is loss, and I related with him completely, even though his loss’s were never to return whereas mine are still alive in this world. I’m talking of course about my life as a father, about my life with my daugher Sadie. Visits are just not the same as everyday life. Anyway I read this book like I was talking to someone who shared the same feelings that I had had, it was incredible; goosebumps all the way through, remorseful, loving, understanding bumps. After reading I had a hockey game to play and got to the arena early, to find our coach, David M, and good friend, mentor and proprietor of my favourite pub in Toronto, The Brass Taps. So anyway, Coach looks at me and asks, ‘Is everything okay?’. And I said yeah and explained how emotionally connected I was to this book I just read and Coach said, ‘Really. Well you know the guy Brutus in the book? Yeah. Well you know him in real life’. And the goosebumps reached to the back of my neck and didn’t leave for a record one minute long. ‘What? Are you kidding me Coach? Brutus is —-!? No way ….’. Without giving away the whole true story of Neil’s life, and his friends and family, I will leave the connection for you to read. Anyway, a month or so ago Brutus wrote me…..
Hey Amigo,
I just got off your web site! Sounds like The Great Adventure is living up to its billing. A lot of rubber behind you, much more ahead. I tried to register on the site but couldn’t? So I’m writing here to wish you the best. When I travelled many years ago (in a cage) I always had the ol’ C.B. on to listen to the truckers talking at night. It helped to entertain and keep me awake. When ever they signed off they would always say, “3s and 8s back at you”. Not sure what that meant but it seemed like it was a form of “Stay Safe”. So 3s and 8s back at you and keep the rubber-side down and the shiny-side up.
Oh! You can do me a favour too. I’m doing some work for Neil at www.neilpeart.net. He’s opened a new project from there called “Bubba’s Bar ‘n’ Grill. I’m the manager of the joint….big announcement on Tuesday! Basically it’s a cooking site for “Bubbas who can’t cook too gud”. I’m going to be doing newsletters, updates, contests etc…all sorts of stuff and eventually a blog. One of the things I’d like to do is feature interesting food and recipes from around the world. You want to be a guest contributor? If you find any interesting joints that cook gud regional food with an interesting twist let me know. You could be a sort of rambling reporter type dude. I always got a kick, when travelling in 21/2 and 3rd world countries, overhearing my fellow adventurers talk about the consistency of their stool. Interesting table talk! Maybe I could call my “Recipes from the Road” submissions, “Pull up a Stool”. Think about it and, “Stay Safe Amigo”.
Brutus
Brutus,
Ha ha ha! Pull up a stool! It is true though, I think because of all the rice and potatoes and fried bananas and meat. Currently in Lojas, Equador. Staying for the day for laundry, bike maitenance, blog photos, and to glue on another gift on the bike. This time a indeginous dagger given to me from a gasoline attendant. Jan is having a few troubles with his bike so he will be wrenching all day. The Bubba’s Bar & Grill sounds like a great idea, and yes I would love to contribute. I have had a few memorable meals that were exceptonal/traditional food, but most times just the basic road side fare. Next time I will ask for a recipe when something is really good.
3′s and 8′s,
Markus
So what’s the point? Well, I was feeling low today and I saw Rush in a Mexican Restaurant in Chile, and then recollecting Neil’s story of friends and family really made me feel good about what I’m doing at the moment. It’s much like Paulo Cohelo’s ‘The Alchemist’, those coincidences are equal to little invisible messengers who whisper in your ear to say, ‘It’s okay … you’re on the right path’. And by the way, Brutus is right, my stool is perfect down here, because I know that most food is naturally grown, fed, and taken by hand. I promise to send a recipe soon B ….
3′s and 8′s
The next day I knew that Ken and Carol would arrive in the evening or the next day so I hung around for a couple more days.
Ken and Carol arrived and I lead him to Javier’s shop so he could do some work on his bike. Ken of course told lot’s of stories and Alcides was happy to hear them too.
The next morning I said my good-bye’s to everyone, hoped on my bike and followed K&C out of Calama. Oh and Pablo gave me some goggles which is fantastic cause I really need them from time to time with all the dust and such. Anyway, after 12 days in Calama, it was a little weird to ride the bike.
At higher speeds the front fairing was wobbling around still so I’ll have to do a little zip tying once we get to San Pedro Attacama which is only two hours from Calama.
In San Pedro we found a nice little place and parking for the bikes with common bathrooms and a kitchen for $22.
In the morning, after spending quite some time trying to find the gas station in San Pedro, which was as Ken says ‘Wedged in between some houses’, we headed for the Chile border. It didn’t take very long to get stamped out, and off we went into no man’s land. The distance between Chile’s border and Argentina’s is 190km, and a pass reaching 16,800ft, so this is why it is no man’s land.
