Excerpt From Journal … DAY 220 EL BOLSON, ARGENTINA …. When I think of my friends from before, and before and before, I wonder if they are happy for real. Actually I wonder if I’m happy for real too. I mean I think so, nothing to worry about except where to pitch the tent next after riding to and fro, but I suppose too that I wonder about things, just not everything I guess, which might be a difference; no news, no TV, no language, no nada, todo nada. Then again I do have my own mind to talk to, and that mind may want to know what the hell we are going to do next, after this, this journey. ‘What journey?’, asked the dinosaur bird picking scrapes of this and that from it’s long beak under the empty tables other people have left. ‘What do you mean what journey?’ ‘What do you mean what journey journey’s?’ ‘What journey journey’s??’ ‘What?’ ‘What??’ I gotta go thought the dinosaur bird, ‘I gotta go’, said the dinosaur bird, ‘I’m on a journey to find some food before it gets dark cause I have to hide in the grasss and then sleep with my beak tucked inside my feathers backward like this …’, as he demonstrated. ‘Oh’. ‘Oh?’ ‘What do you mean oh?’ ‘Did I say oh?’ ‘Oh what journey journey’s in the dark hiding in grass covered in feathers sleeping backward, oh what journey journey’s?’, said the dinosaur bird startled by his own words, ‘I’m not a real parrrot you know.’ ‘Then what are you?’ ‘I am Bandurra’, he answered like I should know. ‘How would I know you are Bandurra?’ I gotta go thought the dinosaur bird, ‘I gotta go’, said the dinosaur bird. ‘Where?’ ‘Where where is?’ ‘Where where is??’ ‘What?’ ‘What??’ ‘I’m going’. ‘Oh’. ‘Oh?’ ‘Did I say that again?’ ‘Oh, that again, oh what journey journey’s in the dark hiding in grass covered in featherrs sleeping backward where where is what what’, said Bandurra again surprised by his words, and he shook his beak like he was busting a mussel shell, ‘I have three toes’. ‘Well I have five’. ‘Five?’ ‘Yes five, well ten if you include them all’. ‘Ten?’ ‘Yes ten, and you have six’. ‘No I have three’. ‘No you have six’. ‘No I have three’, he said thinking I really have to go, ‘I really have …. six toes?’ ‘Yep’. ‘How do you know?’ ‘Cause I can see them, one two three, four five six’. The dinosaur bird was still looking down at it’s ancient feet and then suddenly looked up, ‘Yeah but you don’t have any toes, I can’t see them’. ‘Yes I do look’. ‘Oh’. ‘Oh?’ ‘Oh what?’ ‘Oh what oh?’ ‘Oh what oh journey journey’s in the dark hiding in grass covered in feathers sleeping backward where where is what what oh one two three four five six seven eight nine ten toes in all covered by not a real parrot either’, said the dinosaur bird slightly dizzy, almost bemused, ‘I have to go now’. ‘Why?’ ‘Why why?’ ‘Why why??’ ‘Why why? Oh why why’, said the dinosaur bird before maniacally driving it’s beak into the grass in vain, ‘Oh why why what what where where are my toes covered in feathers in the dark backward sleeping like …. How many toes does a parrot have?’ ‘Six’. ‘How do you know you can’t see them here?’ ‘No but I know’. ‘How do you know?’ ‘Cause all birds are the same’. ‘No we’re not’. ‘No you’re not but you have the same number of toes’. ‘How do you know, can you see them?’ ‘No …’. ‘So you don’t know’. ‘Know what?’ ‘Know what how?’ ‘Know what how??’ ‘How what knows where is the journey’s journey in the dark sleeping backward like a parrot all covered in feathers with six toes but not really, oh … who knows what where is why I gotta go.’ said Bandurra stumbling on one leg. ‘When?’ ‘When when?’ ‘When when??’ ‘Oh when oh when who knows what where is why how is sleeping backward in a parrot’s journey’, and dinosaur bird collapsed down on his breast, turned his neck around and stuffed his beak into the back of his feathers and said in a muffled voice, ‘No masse por favour’. ‘Por que?’ ‘Hey!’, and the bird turned it’s neck back around and exclaimed, ‘I may not know how many toes you or I have but I know who what where when and how knows you don’t really speak Spanish, just like I’m not a parrot with six toes all the same in all the world. And besides, you don’t even fly so how would you know how scary it is to land on the ground, unprotected from my own freedom. Geez … I wish I was a parrot’. ‘Me too’.
After writing BANDURRA, I am saddened slightly that the end of random thoughts has appeared in the form of another animal long gone … until tomorrow again I will have the picture of this dinosaur bird looking at me with an honest, confused expression thinking, ‘I gotta go’; and later the furrowed brow thinking’ Yeah but you don’t even know me’ …. and actually I don’t know, me too … or do I they thought to themselves again. ‘Que sas, que sas, que sas … maybe we do … don’t we maybe? Now we do sing together my friend, now we see beyond only one woman in a tent but two! Yes two, and oh so beautiful in the dark covered in feathers sleeping backward, ‘oh so beautiful she said’.’ ‘Who said?’, asked the dinosaur bird now back on his two feet. ‘She said’, I exclaimed! ‘She said she said who?’, asked Bandurra. ‘She said she said oh so beautiful she who said so she, who is now in her tent again but two’. ‘Two … one two three four five six seven eight nine ten, two?’ ‘Two??’ ‘Yes two, but there are many numbers involved’. ‘I know I have three, no six toes and you have ten, it’s complicated oh’. ‘Oh?’ ‘Oh oh?’ ‘Oh oh what?’ ‘Oh oh, just oh oh’. ‘Oh’. ‘Bandurra?’ ‘Si amigo?’ ‘Do you see what I see?’ ‘I don’t know. You say you see I have three toes, no six toes, and I see only three so how could I see what you see, do you see what I see?’ ‘Si’. ‘Oh, so oh so beautiful said she said so she was so beautiful?’ ‘No’. ”So oh, she said she said you said she was oh so beautivul said she?’ ‘Si’. ‘She said that?’ ‘No’. ‘Oh’, maybe I should go thought the dinosaur bird. ‘Really now?’ ‘Really now what?’ ‘Really now what what really?’ ‘Really now what what really, now what really!….Hey how did you do that?’ ‘What?’ More frantic pecking in the ground to know avail followed by a deep breath, ‘How did you know what really now really was what when I thought what really isn’t cause I just thought ‘I really want to go now’, but not really now no?’ ‘You are an odd bird’. ‘Really are all birds odd?’ ‘No’. ‘Then how do you know I’m an odd bird too?’ ‘I’m not an odd bird’. ‘Yes you are, I can see you’. ‘No you can’t, I’m not a bird’. ‘How do you know? Can you see you?’ ‘No’. ‘A ha!’ squawked the dinosaur bird, pecking feverishly and surprisingly, rewarded finally with a worm, ‘You don’t see you too do you!’ ‘I don’t know’. ‘Me too’. The two women had left their tents with the numbers while the two were discussing such pendantic philosophy, and this is the exact moment the dinosaur bird sqawked loudly, ‘Aha! Here’s a good piece of bread right here!’, as he waddled over like a duck but except with a forward to back swagger, ‘I’m on a journey’ he said while throwing back the bread into it’s throat,’Oh journey’s journey?’ ‘Oh … journey’s journey has returned without numbers’. ‘Without numbers journey’s?’ ‘Those ones!’, and he picked up dinosaur by the legs and pointed his long beak toward their tent, upside down. ‘Do you see journey’s numbers now?’ I really don’t like this thought the dinosaur bird, ‘No, I don’t see a number’s journey’. ‘Okay look closely. They, those two beautiful women are looking for numbers’. ‘But you look for numbers cause you said I have three, no six toes?’ ‘It’s not the same’. ‘Yes it is cause I can see you and you have ten toes, and ten of those wing things without feathers’. ‘So you have two eyes’. ‘So do you … I think’. ‘So you don’t know how to count?’ ‘No’. ‘So you don’t see the numbers I see?’ ‘No’. ‘Do you see the bread just lying in their doorway?’ ‘Yes, but it looks like it’s in the sky’. So he put Bandurra down upside right. ‘Now do you see what I see?’ ‘Yes, I see a piece of bread under a roof on the ground underneath the sky of freedom’s eye’. ‘Freedom’s eye?’ ‘Freedom’s eye what?’ ‘Freedom’s eye what what?’ Freedom’s eye sees the bread on the ground with the numbers counting things I don’t see in the doorway cause the bread is in the way of what I see too like you’. ‘Like what?’ ‘Like that bread I see too’. ‘But you don’t see the bread I do’. ‘Yes I do, it’s light, round, smooth and tasty’. ‘Okay, so when you are flying high in freedom’s eye, what do you see of this bread?’ ‘Oh … I see only an idea that may become a dream in my journey while dodging other preadators in this same sky’. ‘Aha! Just like the numbers! ‘What numbers?’ ‘The numbers, one two three four five six seven eight nine ten’. ‘Like one two three, four five six?’ ‘Yes, like those.’ ‘Well I don’t count so I don’t care’. ‘Yes you do’. ‘No I don’t’. ‘Yes you do’. ‘No I don’t’. And they both at the exact moment said in synchronicity, ‘AHA! NOW I SEE YOU!!’
Yes I admit it’s pretty stupid but what can I say …. so I hung out for the night writing whatever came to mind, as Nick was up at another campsite with Javier, Marco, MariV, Magli and Daniella. Look closely at the campers near where I was, they even have a TV.
The next morning Nick and I packed up and rode up the mountain to camp with the gang and was nicely greeted by this guy.
And then a hike to the Rio Azul …
We all snoozed after a while and this dog sniffing around woke me up …
The next morning we headed for Lago Puelo, us on the bikes and the gang took the bus … we met here at the National Park but it was a bust, too much money and too much touristica ….
… so we found this place along the highway, El Zorro, camping. In all, we spent three nights there and I have to say it was one of the best camping spots so far ….
My three homes ……
And then some friends of the gang, Amanda and Francesco joined us for the night … I’ve never seen such a talented boy of three years old … he could throw up and kick the ball with such ease, he rolled down the hills and was constantly in tune with his hand/eye coordination, I was amazed ….
… and later Nick met Garrick from Oregon in town shopping for supplies, riding the classic green KLR, solo, and on his way down south ….. he spent the night with us and pitched his tent in a neutral location …. after much ribbing from me …. I said, ‘You’ll have to pardon us, for we have been hanging around for so long that we are no longer social in a sense, we have become a family and are both posessive and guarded, but you are welcome anyway’ ….
The following morning Garrick packed up and left, stopping in town to exchange a leaky water bottle he had just bought ….
Basically for three days and nights it was ‘Arts and Crafts’, which means to do nothing except what is happening in the moment …. an excuse to be an artist, an artist looking for an excuse, and excuse looking for an artist …. anyway, my art was the fire, kissing the fire to be precise …. without getting into it now, the fire is a question of science, art and love … so I spent all my time tending to she … in the night I left her alone, and in the morning I lit here again from the coals in the night, and on and on …. but on this particular day when everyone was off on another hike, while looking for scrapes of wood I found this …..
… and polished her with steel wool, some sandpaper from Nick and a rock to sharpen the edges a wee bit (it was covered in rust and my guess for a year or so) …. my first machete …. but in the mornings, the roosters would come to exactly the spot our heads were lying asleep and ‘cockadoodledoooo’ through the tents. They are all too funny with their ‘cockadoodledooos’.
So…. the gang took the bus or hitched I don’t know right now cause we never found them here in San Carlos Bariloche, at the plaza we had already planned to meet at. Nick and I rode an easy 145km’s, but had to stop many times for it was so cold. ‘Low Budget Nick’ has holes at the end of his fingers and I have summer gloves but electric hand warmers and I was cold so you can imagine what it was like for Nick. Anyway, an easy 145km’s was a tough day and we arrived here in Bariloche looking for the gang but didn’t find them anywhere.
Here in a hostal paying for a single room which costs a lot, I am pleasantly catching up with you and me my friends …. drinking a wee cup of wine and wishing to find my Argentinian friends tomorrow … no lo say … a note to self …. sometimes I am so tired from nothing that sometimes something makes me not … . There really is a vibe or grind or system to riding and riding … but right now I have done so little that I realize how much so I need to do so … which is the original plan from the beginning ….. . I heard from Scott the other day, he is in Africa after doing safari’s and tending to his truck, hasn’t ridden much on the bike lately but will be doing so soon …. it’s so crazy to know that we left at the same time and yet we are leagues away from eachother … but maybe not so crazy no lo say ….
Today is February 3rd, 2010 …
In the morning Nick and I checked our emails but no message from the gang. I hope they are okay we were thinking, especially Amanda and her son Francesco. So I went off into the centre and had some lunch, parking my bike on the street just in case they might see but still no contact. So I rode to the bus station again to see if they were stranded there but nothing. So I rode around town having a look at things and to see if I might see them but nothing, well … wind, rain and cold in this ski village type expensive city, but apart from that, nothing. So I rode back to the hostal …. I wonder how many times I can use ‘so’ in one paragraph …. and asked Nick if he had heard anything but nothing was the answer. So I went up to my room and tinkered with the computer and then decided to go downstairs to have a smoke and while doing so I was leaning on a fence looking out at the street completely in thought when all of a sudden from around the corner appeared Magli … we looked at each other for a moment like what am I seeing and then greeted each other like we hadn’t seen each other for years. So, we walked back to the central plaza and met the rest of the gang, had some lunch, and then everyone went back to an apartment that they rented for us all for two more nights. I came back here to the hostal as I’d already paid for the night and now I’m going to have a nap before returning to the family for some food and laughs. It’s so weird how I keep running into the gang when I’m not looking for them ….. hmmmmm …… anyway here is a picture of the view from the center of Bariloche ….
EXCERPT FROM JOURNAL … DAY 214 PUERTO CISNES … later in the same day I am back after a walk around Puerto Cisnes, to drink a glass of wine by the wood stove and listen to music. I was thinking, what is it to be a wanderer? One who needs no one but wants everyone? Who are the wanderers I meet wandering? Are they like me and you, or you and me? Do they see the same things, I think not for when I’m riding with these wanderers they speak of things and point at vistas that to me are already present, unlike the one’s in my mind that I’m too lazy to explain; like how the dogs are protecting what’s theirs while still offering friendship for a small price or how the atrocities of the world are ignored by people like me and you, you and me, smelling flowers and burning gasoline. Truthfully, I could be anywhere right now, no real idea of where I am … South America is becoming home, or at least Argentina and Chile since I’ve spent so much time here now. Africa hmmmmm … this should be quite different.
The following day we went to the hostal that Daniella, Amanda and her son Fransesco were staying. A nice place on a great piece of land. We had lunch, talked with the guys who run the place, listened to music and went for a walk.
This dog, Pappita, sure reminded me a lot of Inara, hey Marc!
And here a group shot of our family …. Papa Familia
These kids fishing with a stick, line and hook. Some with a can and line to catch the little ones.
After this day it rained and was cold so we spent a lot of time inside this wee room …
After four nights, and some of the gang returning home to Rosario, MariV, Javier and Marco packed up to go north and do some more camping. I was torn between going with them or moving on. I was still waiting for Jan to leave Santiago, Chile but in the end decided it was time to move on. We said our good-bye’s and that was that. Actually I didn’t get to say good-bye to Nick who was also staying at the other hostal, but he will hook up with the gang later. My saying, ‘Mucho ablo nada cominando’, finally found it’s way into my own ears, so off I went ….
Actually on the way out of town I ran into these three again, thumbing for a lift so I stopped for a smoke and one last good-bye.
Then quite suddenly I rode from cold and cloudy to hot and windy ….
… I stopped on the fringe of Neuquen for the night, grabbed an expensive room for $55 dollars cause I was tired and hungry, watched TV and now today catching up with this site. Good movie, ‘Diggers’. I’m going to ride somewhere east but don’t really know where, but basically toward Azul to stop in the famous casa of a man who takes in bikers from all over the world in his house. The name alludes me right now but most bikers know of this guy. I’m kinda going to take it easy so Jan can catch up, but that being said it felt really good to get a day of riding in yesterday. I don’t know, after spending six weeks riding with Nick, about two plus weeks with the family, I am now in solo mode again which is quite different from the other. Lot’s of time to think and to ride.
This is where I stayed last night, a nice beautiful spot just off the highway. The thing is there was no one here, and in the morning when I asked for another cup of coffee, well they said the kitchen was closed. It’s not possible to boil some water? No. Lazy, and nothing to do. In fact when I first sat down in the dining area, when there was no one in the place, I chose a table that had an electrical plug socket nearby so I could charge the battery in the computer, and when they brought out my first cup of coffee with bread, she first placed the stuff on the table next to me, and I said no thank you I’d like to sit here, it was a big deal to move a basket, cup, and hot water over; I even helped. Lazy. I don’t normally believe in complaining, and I’ve had reason to over the last seven months, but this just pissed me off, so friggin’ lazy, and nothing to do.
I had a good solid ride today …. straight, hot and a little windy.
This guy saw me ride through town and decided to giv’er and caught me from nowhere. Moments after the picture he turned off the main highway.
This guy passed me a while later. Since the new rings were put in I’ve been hesitant to ride over 110km’s/hr unless need be for a short time. However later in the day, and after the suggested period of time, ie: 500km’s from the mechanic in El Bolson, I started giving the engine a little more work.
This is an unusual sight in Argentina, a train.
This is a local dude riding a smaller bike, con guitar.
I arrived in Rio Colorado later in the day to stay at the same place I had stopped in at in mid-December. Senor took 20 pesos off the price, even though the price had risen since a month and a half ago, for it is the season here in Argentina for tourism. I have to camp more again, costs too much. It’s just the last two days I’ve been craving the comforts, with wifi and all. From tomorrow on I’ll ride less in a day and camp more.
A friend of mine who I met on the road from Pictou, Nova Scotia, Canada, Bill, 65 years old I believe, well we’ve been writing back and forth and he just had an accident on his bike down in Florida recently. Another bike with two up did a U-turn in front of him and the only thing Bill could do was sacrifice himself and the bike instead of killing the other two. He wrote me the other day to say he has a broken leg and foot, right at the beginning of his trip with an old friend. How could they have been so stupid those other riders? Have a look, it only takes a second. That being said, it only takes a second to have an accident or to make a mistake, one second; I think of this every time I get out of one, or the time I didn’t. My best wishes for a speedy recovery Bill! You’re a good man.
In the morning off and riding in the heat ….
One second …. that’s all it takes ….
I hadn’t looked at my map before leaving in the morning because the last few weeks I really didn’t need to as there really isn’t many choices to make. However I did follow my GPS which isn’t always a good thing to do, especially when you have many options to choose from, however after the location of the train accident I decided I should re-fold my map to make sure this is in fact the route I wanted to take. Yes I had choices but decided that the GPS made a good choice. It’s funny, people tell you of great roads to take and they are usually right but there are some roads I have taken that no one mentions and the Ruta 33 to the 76 are two of them. I loved this road, albeit a bit straight but the energy and feeling was fantastic.
I stopped in Tornquist, a beautiful, quiet town with one of the best plazas I have seen so far. My bike has been coughing and stuttering so I figured some new good gas might help as in the morning I took some Fabio as there wasn’t any Super. I stayed for lunch in a great restaurant and almost decided to stay just to hang out and read in the plaza, but I decided to keep riding as I was enjoying the lack of wind and the heat.
Three times my bike coughed and stuttered and eventually stalled. Shit. Each time I got her started again and kept riding. Must be a dirty carb, or water in the gas or something. Anyway I was running out of gas as I passed up on one station along the way, better switch to reserve. A month or so ago my short trip odometer wouldn’t reset to zero’s so every time I’ve fueled up I just look at the numbers, remember them and then I know roughly how far I can go on one tank. Today however, and other days too, I mixed up the numbers, ‘Was it 628 before, or was it 534, or was that yesterday or ….’, anyway today I was totally off, and stupidly roared past the last station.
I made it to the next YPF, fueled up and then pushed the bike out of the way for a smoke, and that’s when I saw Monica and Betima’s bike, parked behind a car. They are the German ladies Nick and I rode with into Tierra Del Fuego, Christmas in Ushuaia together, and ran into them two more times on the way up north. But I couldn’t see them anywhere, for they were inside a shop buying some clothes to send back to Germany. So we had coffee outside by the bikes and then rode together into Azul.
Ken and Carol had told me before when you ride into Azul, just ask anyone where La Posta is and they will know. Well sure enough the first person I asked gave me perfect directions. But because this often doesn’t work to just ask one person, I asked another guy on a moto and he accompanied us right to La Posta.
We were greeted warmly by Jorge(Pollo) and his friends, pulled the bikes inside his beautiful, large yard and then they went to buy meat for an Asado. So the ladies and I also walked to the market for some wine and other things, we got back and set up our tents and then had a great meal while getting to know everyone. I took the pictures below after everyone had left to retire for the night, well, they tell you everything about how famous Pollo is for his hospitality and great nature.
I had a great sleep with fantastic dreams …. I think I will be staying for a few days here, also I have to clean the carberator. Uh oh, gotta run. Pollo and his friends are taking us by moto to a Canadian couple who are stranded here in Azul while their plane is being repaired. Their plan is to go around the world by plane.
A quiet, mellow day in La Posta. Jorge told me a few stories about his trips to Japan and Germany; both times the visitors of La Posta paid for him to fly out and visit their respective countries. He showed me all these moto magazines that he is in from Japan and Italy; quite the celebrity.
In the night I was alone in the kitchen again, reading and reflecting on all the past visitors and suddenly I had the inspiration to sign the current book …
The dogs from across the street became my friends after I fed them our leftovers, no more barking when I walked by their house.
This is Jorge (Pollo), cutting the lawn and popping a wheely.
Later the next day I signed the wall, well the door. No art work and nothing fancy, but right below my German family friends, ‘The Langes’.
Later in the night, a different Jorge and his daughter who’s name I never really got, something starting with an ‘M’, so for this I will call her Maddy. Maybe if she reads this, she can email me her correct name. Anyway Jorge owns the local fruit and veggie stand and he teaches the tango so he was teaching Monica how to tango while we sat around and talked. Maddy has no hearing so it was interesting to talk in Spanish and her father translating with sign language and all of us mouthing our Spanish words clearly. I was happy because I thought maybe she didn’t notice if I was rolling my ‘R’s’ correctly, for ‘but’ and ‘dog’, it is ‘pero’ and ‘perro’, both sounding the same except the subtle roll of the ‘r’ in ‘perro’. Anyway Maddy was asking me about my perro’s who were hanging around with us and I mouthed, ‘No they are not my dogs but …. ‘, she laughed anyway so she must have understood my inner chuckle.
The next day I said good-bye to this gang with Steven from Seattle, and Michael from Germany, who Nick and I had met going up the Ruta 40 when he was going south.
Again another quick good-bye at the fruit stand and then I rode into Buenos Aries.
On the way I stopped for gas here and I don’t know what it was but I was asked by many people, often at the same time the usual questions and then when I finally said excuse me I have to inside and get a coffee, I came out and a woman and her husband started talking to me about I don’t know, I didn’t understand anything she was saying, and my feeling was she was little a loopy, and then I posed for pictures with both of them and then finally started gearing up when a woman pulled up in front of me, got out of her car, walked up and invited me to a moto meeting three weeks from now in a town I had already passed. I thanked her and declined and she jumped in her car and sped off, she didn’t even get any gas.
I arrived at Dakar Motos and was greeted by Javier and my favourite Aussies Ken and Carol, Andy and Mia from the UK and Richard from Austrailia, Jerome from Canada and then some other dudes arrived one from Quebec and the other New York State, we at stew that Carol had made and later Sandra and Javier went and bought two kilo’s of ice cream. What a great day/night.
Today is Sunday so everyone is just hanging out catching up with moto business, washing, reading and the like, nothing is open on Sunday anyway. I’ll be here in Buenos Aries for a while taking care of my things, working on the bike with Javier, shipping stuff, shopping for stuff, sending stuff back to Canada, the whole gammit. I also need a new camera cause the screen slowly and finally died so I can’t see the pictures, I can’t change any settings, I can’t use the timer, nothing. I also need some new jeans, mine have had it, holes everywhere, and now the bum has worn thin so …. that’s the news.
In the night a good friend of Javier and Sandra, Fabrizio, well he turned 50 today so we had a little gathering to celebrate his 50 years.
Today I am trying to figure out many details, but because it is a full house, and everyone is madly packing and finishing up their last details, I’m just trying to stay out of the way.
Back in Costa Rica, when I met Jan in Coco De Playa, I also met this Harley rider named Stephen. He was an interesting man and we had breakfast together talking about all things, and during the good-bye he gave both Jan and I these Golden Eggs, to purify the water we would be drinking for months up to right now. At first I was a little hesitant to trust this wee little plastic egg, but once confidence was gained, I would scare people by drinking water from taps they would say no you should not drink this water.
Here are Jan’s comments on the egg to Stephen the CEO ….
Just received from Jan: Being for four days out in the south of Bolivia with not enough food, I was always able to find either a pool of water or a stream to fill up my bottle. Just had it shaking & rolling on the bike for a while and yeah, always fresh, good tasting water at hand, always felt good, also I use contact lenses, altough I couldn`t clean my hands, just used the water from my bottle, NEVER had any problem.
About the taste, don’t ever drink tapwater anymore, just hooked to my waterbottle with the egg, just as good as any bottled mineral water which I used to drink a lot, I think it’s even better as some brands of water but that’s always a matter of taste.
Happy Trails,
Jan
And here are mine to Stephen ….
Hey Stephen,
Great to hear from you! The egg experience has been equal for me too. One time I had some ladies try and stop me from using some water from a tap at a gas station. They said no no , it’s very bad water. And I said, no problem ladies, I have a magic egg that purifies the water. What? Really? Yep! Thanks again for the egg Stephen. I think when I get to Africa, whenever that happens to be, I’ll need a new egg for that portion of the trip. Right now I am without my bike as I have serious engine issues, but hopefully all will be fixed in a couple of days. I am currently in El Bolson, Argentina. One never knows for sure. In fact the saying goes like this, ‘Everything is possible but nothing is for sure’, except of course my drinking water.
Markus
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So this is going to be a very nice gift to give to people along my travels in Africa. The only problem will be finding the space on the bike, but I’ll find a way ….
My father, Tony, has sent me a video clip from a show he worked on back in 1969 called ‘Come Together’. I remember the clip from a live perspective as I was there at three years old and I recall the brightness of the lights and being transferred from one set of arms to the next, and then the audience …..
Here come those clouds again that mean ‘trouble’, land the glider now ….
Crazy, thick, vivid dreams that became a ‘Dream Series’ through the night with lot’s of flying included. Tonight it’s my turn to cook dinner so I better run and get some supplies ….
Ken taking a time out to smile while working on the broken pannier. He and Javier on and off worked on this for many days; priorities rule.
Carol and Bettina doing some paperwork ….
Monica catching up with the computer ….
And I, thanks to Carol who put two and two together, made a purchase from Richard the Aussie who sold his bike here and was packing stuff to ship back to Oz, and well this great stove, pot and container for gasoline stayed with me for Africa ….
A lame attempt at a picture but it works. As I said before I can’t use the electronic viewfinder so I just propped it down and pressed the button … and actually and come to think of it, just like the photo’s I take while riding the bike ….
And here is Richard without his bike, taking a taxi to the airport ….
A farewell dinner with the Wily Veterans, Ken and Carol, Andy and Maya, I don’t know which pair are more willy, they surprise me everyday. Jerome the French guy living in Victoria, Canada with the broken shoulder from an accident made dinner, mmmmmm …
There go Andy and Maya ….
The next day there go Jerome, and Ken and Carol ….
Then I took the train to Centro to look for bike parts, which is pretty difficult considering I’m in the capital of Argentina, at least for my bike anyway. I left empty handed but had a nice walk and some delicious ice cream. Maybe tomorrow …
Some others have arrived since I was gone today, including Paul the Aussie riding the exact same bike as mine, crash included, his on the Ruta 40, twice. So a shift in energy here at Dakar Motos, always shifting always moving like the currents in the sea …. ugh, this is true but somehow so profoundly over the top I can’t bare it, but it stays anyway; too lazy to articulate in a more subtle fashion.
Excerpt From Journal …. (but I haven’t written it yet) …. I’m bored, gotta move on (well, maybe I have written this already) … through Horizon’s Unlimited, I am in contact with various people in Cape Town, South Africa already. And they have all responded to my queries so graciously that I am again reassured by moto’s and their people.
Tons of rain, Buenos Aries centro was a river and we were watching people on the news being helped by fireman to get across the street, with a rope tied to either end of the crossing; women with children holding them up in the air, a bit of a deal.
This is only two blocks from where we are staying at Dakar Motos ….
Frank on the left has been on the road for 8 years now and is almost finished his journey … Paul on the right is the Aussie I’ve mentioned who is a couple of months into his journey …
Brita from Ireland is with her guy Tom from South Africa, they’re heading toward Columbia to teach English, riding a bike he bought here from a guy in the UK who returned home.
It’s interesting, the dynamics of many people staying in a small space, even though we are similar types of people we are not the same in terms of all the things one is used to; ie: the bathroom, the kitchen, the dishes, floors, nights, mornings, talks, music/no music, sensitive/non-sensitive, talkers, listeners, bitchers, snorers, cleaners, messers, teamers, believers, lazers, winers, fighters, lovers, browners, followers and I digress; it’s fantastic and rewarding, but not without a great deal of patience from all minds.
The next day Frank, Paul and I headed for the touristy part of town, La Boca, to check out the Tango ….
One time this older guy stopped us to tell us not to walk in the direction we were headed because it was dangerous. We concluded that if he is going in the same direction then so will we …. until we found an ice cream shop.
Currently Dakar is filled with riders and bikes again, and it’s pissing with rain again too.
A couple of days ago, I remembered a sound that I had heard when my bike was idling and it only now occurred to me that I should let Javier listen to it. But he was busy so I just started the bike on my own to confirm the sound and that’s when Frank suddenly said, ‘Does your bike always sound like this?’. ‘No, just lately since the ring replacement’. ‘Doesn’t sound good mate’. And then Javier came over cause he too heard the sound and that’s when the very worst thoughts were presented with costs and the reality of the situation for the future. Not good. One of three things could be wrong and the last two would cost a small fortune with no guarantee for the future; ie: pistons, re-build, new engine from a wreck. As it turns out this is what had happened …. After leaving El Bolson I wondered if Juan the mechanic had tightened the chain balancer, which is just a nut one unscrews one and a half turns and re-tightens again. So at a gas station I did this little procedure, and still I heard this clonking sound all the way to Buenos Aries. So after Javier listened to the bike he asked if I had re-tightened the chain balancer and I said I had so I was left with the notion that I had serious engine problems. I stripped the bike down and later Javier tried the little procedure again, and it was fine. The thing I didn’t know is after loosening the chain balancer one has to tap on the nut, just to give the chain balancer a little correction to stay straight. Whew … the night before I thought my travels were over for I wasn’t confident riding a troublesome engine around the world, constantly repairing, constantly dealing with motor problems as opposed to enjoying the normal problems one may encounter; ie: people and natural causes. Frank as I said, has been riding the world for the last eight years and after contemplating the reality of a possible situation his advice was to find a new motor for he had met and witnessed many riders around the world constantly dealing with bikes that were always a problem, blogs filled with pages of problems. I had to agree with his advice but the idea of searching for an engine, paying and installing was a huge kick in the guts for me. However this is not the case, thankfully. That being said though, I remember going to bed the night of the possibility thinking, well, I can always ride the bike until it’s done and then decide what to do then, which was kind of an appeasing sort of conclusion.
There goes Tom and Brita … sorry for the bad exposure …
There goes Frank …. almost finishing his 8 years on the road ….
I’ve decided to do most of my work for the bike in Cape Town as it’s cheaper for parts than here in Buenos Aries. I’ve booked the flight for the bike and will ride her down to the airport after the weekend (roughly 1400US). I also got a great deal and booked one for me (600US). Yes this is an expensive time seeing as I broke down and bought a new pair of jeans too, and some new shoes as my 11 year old Blundstones, twice soled and one boot with a rip in the leather at the heel, well I think it’s time. Although while wearing my new shoes, I still have’nt the heart to throw the B’s out and even today I was thinking maybe I can find room for them as the shoes are much more compact to pack. I also booked my spot in a hostel in Cape Town so everything is coming together according to plan.
Excerpt From Journal …. I have a piss bottle beside my tent, so I don’t have to walk through the bunk beds in the middle of the night, a two litre sprite bottle that I cut to adjust without cutting my good friend, and when I mentioned the next morning on my first attempt with a 250ml gatorade bottle the night before, that I had over-filled the bottle and some of it leaked inside my tent, some said nothing and others said ‘Why don’t you just piss on the wall?’, and I replied, ‘If everyone that stayed here pissed beside the tents it would smell like every other great capital I have walked in’. So they replied, ‘Don’t worry, just walk inside and take a piss but don’t flush?’ ‘Yeah but what if I flush by mistake or trip over something in the dark, what then?’ Then no one said anything except, ‘So what size bottle do you have?’ It doesn’t matter I thought, it’s just the thought that counts. So anyway I’ve been filling up this bottle in the night and in the day after the hot sun, I find a time to pour it down the appropriate drain, amidst all the hustle and bustle and I see bated breath as I cautiously wind through the masses and I wonder what they think when I hold a large vial of my liver’s waste, both hands fully clutched and firm. I reckon it is the same as before, an unsatisfactory feeling mixed with a kind of remorse for the guy who pee’s in a bottle, that could easily piss on the wall, and happily I might add.
There goes Philipe ….
Last night I was just walking to the door here at Dakar Motos to go the market to buy some supplies for a Bolognese and I heard a bike shut off, and saw the boots walk up to the door as there are two square windows at the bottom. I know those boots, and I opened the door and there was the Flying Dutchman, Jan Gerber. It is needless to say we were happy to see each other again, and subsequently I bought more supplies for the dinner.
The day before yesterday I had my bike cleaned at a place not far from Dakar Motos, and they did a thorough job.
I removed the turtle bone from the front for shipping and so far I’ve left the bullets that have been given to me along the way, but I fear they will be confiscated. My only option is to take them off and hide them somewhere but the fear of being caught for such a thing seems pointless and will alarm customs in a way that isn’t true of the nature of these bullets. So I’ll just leave them on and see what happens. Actually someone pointed out to me along the way that each of the bullets means that one life has been saved ….
Saying good-bye to all these motorcycle travelers is much like the crew of the Star-ship Enterprise hanging out in the ‘beem me down/up room’, as we all just hang out here talking about going here and coming from there, and then ‘zap’, they’re gone.
Jan as I said is here, and it’s like being beemed up by the Star-Ship Enterprise to find another who has also arrived from another dimension. We spent the day doing our duties while talking about things like old old friends, of which I know we are, and he shared with me some PDF files of the magazine he is writing for and sending pictures to in Holland. He said in his way, ‘You have to see this!’, and he showed me the motorcycle magazine prints in PDF, and he added that he sends the magazine the words and tons of pictures and then they choose which words and which pictures go inside. Viewing through the pictures I was reminded of so much time passed, and times that he had described that I had not witnessed. As for the words well I don’t speak Dutch so I have know idea but what Jan says is they take his two thousand words and create the introduction and choose the pictures and leave the words …. I wish I knew the words.
… so here I am in a Dutch Moto Magazine ( I had to take the pictures with my camera from my computer cause I couldn’t figure out how to convert the PDF files into blah blah blah … ) …
Bjorn from many encounters on the road has arrived ….
…. just like Starbucks ….
Paul preparing to leave ….
… and there he goes …. only to return 45 minutes later as his ferry ride to Uruguay was at 4:15pm, contrary to what he had written down which was 14:15. He also had forgotten his ‘camel back’ which he said if he had gotten on the ferry he would have emailed for me to keep the ‘camel back’ … but it was better to have a laugh and see him again …
… and there goes Daniel who is working for a German tour company ….
… Bjorn doing some maintenance on the bike ….
… this looks like the first bike ever to have arrived here at Dakar Motos ….
Now that Dakar is near empty, apart from Jan, Bjorn and myself, I have moved inside and had a fantastic night just dozing while watching TV, and later waking up to write a little in my journal. It’s been nice to see this famous bike hostel from full capacity to it’s present state, and all of the various living dimensions.
I received an email yesterday from Rebecca’s man Joel, asking if I was okay regarding the huge earthquake in Chile, and he also mentioned that Canada squeaked into the gold medal round. I was shocked to hear both news. Kevin, a guy from St. Catharines, Ontario was hanging out here yesterday as his flight to Santiago was canceled for obvious reasons, he and his bike due to fly back yesterday. We also researched the net and we think we will be able to watch the game later today, con Espanole which will be a first for me. Canada vs. USA, should be a good one.
Tomorrow I take the bike down to Air Cargo to have crated and to do the paperwork. Jan is going to ride down with me on his old lady which will be a familiar experience, and after saying good-bye to my bike, I will ride back to BA on the back of the Harley which will be a first that’s for sure. Today is Februaury 28th, 2010.
Well what can I say about last nights game except Holy Moses, that was close, but then again not really. The Canadians seemed to be mostly in control, and from my side of things down here with Spanish commentators, I thought the energy at the game wasn’t that high, but I don’t know if this is true for listening to the game was very different for me. It was kind of like a soccer game, with ESPN influence and data for the team talkers. All in all though, Jan, Bjorn and a Buenos Aries guy named Marcus who has just started riding a bike at 54 years, and a very interesting mind, enjoyed watching the game together. Jan met Marcus in Bariloche and said to Jan give me a call when you arrive in BA. He did and Marcus took Bjorn and Jan for a tour around the city. I declined to Skype with my brother and catch up with the news back home.
The next day off to the airport …
Franco and the team are cool and efficient. I gave my aerosol spray bottles to the guy who wrapped the bike like an artist; chain lube, WD 40, oil, and brake fluid. And then a ride on the back of Jan’s old lady. Yikes, when we entered the city roads and hit even small bumps I wrenched my back and whacked my balls once. After stopping for gas I started waiting for a taxi and Jan pulled up to ask if I wanted to try one more time. Okay, so I hopped on and we didn’t hit anymore jarring bumps. He has no suspension, just his seat has a spring and for me, I got the full on bumps.
Now that my bike is finally gone, reality and excitement has settled in just like at the beginning of Central America. I imagine when I leave the plane and encounter my first scent of Africa it will be even more pronounced. There’s no turning back now….
Javier closing the shop for another night ….
I went into centro to pay for the shipping of my bike and encountered a film crew setting up for the day.
And guess what, it’s just like the rest of the world I’ve made movies in … a lot of people sitting in chairs until just the right moment and then …. well, I didn’t stay for the shooting part. Here they’re lining up with some stand in’s, and I looked and looked but didn’t see any sound department. Well enough of this I said and then left.
Every time I take the train to centro I see these shanty towns, between the tracks and the autopista. They make shacks from anything and on top of each other. It must be a maze inside to find the way out of these mini-towns. They even use old rail cars and have stores in them. Kinda cool but not so easy a life I’m sure.
When Jan and I arrived back from centro, more bikes were parked out front. A German couple, Christophe and Silka, each riding BMW’s, and Dan and Claire from British Columbia, Canada, both riding XT 250′s. This is kinda rare, two couples with four bikes under the same roof. Nick and I met Dan and Claire on the Carretera Astral, they were heading south as we were heading north. I didn’t think I would see them again, but that’s what I often think, kind of. Anyway, Jason the American also staying here received his bike from air cargo, it was stuck in Santiago, Chile, and had arrived there two hours after the quake, and somehow made it to BA considering the difficulties happening there right now. So we all went for dinner …
… and ice cream ….
Alright, see you in Africa! Ciao.
