Almost snowed in!

Location:

Punta Arenas

There is one thing that Ushuaia and England have in common - the weather is very unpreditable. When we set off to go back north, it had taken a turn for the worst and we realised that we had been very lucky with the weather when we had arrived back on 22 Sept. "Suerte" (Lucky) the guy at the Tourist Info had said and he was not wrong.

Leaving was under threatening black clouds and as we rode out, snow flakes started to fall. As the road climbed higher fresh falls of snow from the night before lay on the raods and the further we went the bigger snow flakes became.

On the tarmac, they melted quickly but when we reached the dirt and the Garibaldi Pass, the road became two slushy ruts of dirt and snow, treacherous riding conditions, meaning that for sections, I had to get off the bike as Kevin slithered his way higher. The snow did not let up and by the top we were riding in near blizzard conditions. On the assumption of once we were over the top, it would ease up, we crawled the last couple of kilometers and sure enough, as we turned towards the Lago Escondido, the clouds were breaking and weak sunshine came through.

We were not quite out of the woods, as the next stretch of road was narrow, wet, and clung to the side of a cliff and as usual had none of the benefits of barriers. It occurred to us indeed what "suerte" we must have had on the ride in, because now these were truly the worst combined weather and road conditions we had had to deal with. It also occurred to us that it would be just our luck to get through the world record only to end up slithering off the edge of a cliff on the way back!

Once again I climbed off the bike as Kevin negotiated his way through the "It´s a Knock Out" Course of motorcycling skills on snow. And yet within only a few miles further, we were at the bottom, no snow and all three of us in tact. It had taken the same amount of time to ride the forty of so miles from Ushuaia to get out as it had done to ride the last 120 miles in on the world record. Suerte indeed.

We spent the night in Rio Grande and then spent our last day on Tierra del Fuego, riding the 150 miles or so to Porvenir. The only Chilean settlement on the island and over on the west coast. It was clear that the traffic on this side of the island was much lighter. For the whole of the ride we only saw five vehicles. The ripio road was significantly worse than the one coming in from the north of the island. Huge tracts of gravel piled high and a wind that was forever intent on pushing you over. Still this road ended up running the coast and was magnificent (at least for the pillion!)

At Porvenir, we took the Melinka ferry boat across to Punta Arenas. It was clear they did not have much experience of big bikes as there knowledge of strapping a bike down for the crossing was non-existent, nor did the boat have any lashing hooks. Luckily we carried our own straps and used our imagination with the piping and other vehicles on the boat!

From here, we will head upto Puerto Natales and spend time exploring the Torres del Paine National Park - I will even put some time aside to start writing "THE BOOK"! Last time we were here, we got a tour bus to the Park. This time, we will ride the bike as far as we can go.

R and R

Location:

Ushuaia

When you ride like we have ridden you have no time to think about being tired. You just get on with it. The moment it is over, everything seems to break down. Big plans for celebrations and champagne dissolve too nothing as after your first beer, you fall asleep in your food.
The past 4 days have been nothing but catch up time. Sleeping for 10 hours each night, eating to make up for all the irregular meals and days without eating, and sleeping some more. We can barely keep our eyes open past 9pm. The body slowly seizes up, bugs which seem to have been kept at bay appear from nowhere as throats are sore, sneezes are frequent. The brain remains as if stuffed with cotton wool and it is too hard to think.

If only someone could pluck us out of here and back home!! Still we have a route back to Santigo to ride and tomorrow we leave. In many ways this part of our journey is the most risky, with a lot of dirt to cover. Without the focus of the record, it could be too easy to make mistakes. You can track our ride home over the next month.

End of the Road

Location:	Ushuaia
Mileage:	16,974

We wake up knowing that this will be our final days riding. There are little niggles as we have about 80 miles of dirt to cover today, but really we know deep inside that we will make it.

It is a spectacular ride. The further south into Tierra del Fuego you go, the more valleys, rivers, mountains appear and the road winds back and forth. The wooded glens look like they are from Lord of the Rings. Grey twisted trees are drapped in light green hanging mosses and the ground looks buckled and covered with a blanket of mosses, with pockets of still water reflecting the blue sky.

The "FIN DE PAVIMIENTO" sign appears and we are back on dirt. We do not blast it. There is too much at stake and the scenery is too breathtaking.

Besides over the Paso de Garibaldi, there is no option but to take it slow as the road climbs higer, with snow deep on each side and the road narrows at the highest part, leaving huge drops to the right. The road has a top sheen of glassy mud and the bike skates across it. With my vertigo, I can't even breathe as we crawl over the narrowest bits. As we head down to the valley, we can pull across to the side and look back at the mountain peaks behind us. It is truly the most mesmirising view of the whole ride.

And then it is tarmac again. Signs for hotels appear and the final corner, shows the city of Ushuaia. Brightly coloured buildings nestling upto a deep blue sea, and set against sharp jagged snow capped mountain peaks. We snap ourselves back to the job to be done. Photos by the town sign, our witness book signed by the local police and also Tourist Info, right in the centre of town.

We are left there in the middle of the bustling street, people walking past, staring at the bike and it is done. 35 days and it is finished. We look at each other and feel a little lost. There is no big ceremony, nobody opening champagne. It is just another overland bike that has made it to Ushuaia and only we know what and how we have achieved it.

After the record

Location:

Lapatia

Finishing such a huge ride has left us drained and exhilerant at the same time. But once we were signed off in Ushuaia, there was still an unofficial task to do. The road south, "Ruta 3" still continues for a further 25 kms out of Ushuaia, into Tierra del Fuego National Park and to Bahia Lapatia.

It is here that the Overland Motorcycle Mecca exists - the sign which states "Aqui finalisa Ruta 3" and gives the kms (as the crow flies!) to Alaska. Anyone who has ridden there bike from the very top to the very bottom (and many more who have only done part of the journey but got here on their bikes), take a photo by this sign.

And it was the same for us. Just a couple of hours aftering finishing the record and after a hot cup of coffee, we are at the sign, for a second time in our lives. Both times two-up on a BMW GS. But the circumstances could not be different. Our first time was on a 10 year old R80GS, having ridden for 6 months from Miami; our second on a 6 month old R1150GS Adventure, having ridden 35 days from Prudhoe Bay!

For us, this was the true finish. Ahead the ocean, behind the mountains and nowhere further to ride the bike, except back the way we came.

And so as well, it is not over. Both us and the bike have to get back to England and that is no mean feat. It is another 3,000 miles ride for us back to Santiago, Chile. From here the bike is air freighted to Madrid and we ride it back through Spain, France, catch the ferry to Dover and ride home.

Our journey back north takes us back through the Caraterra Austral and the Chilean Lake District, awesome riding so watch our progress back home here!

So near and yet so far

Location:	Rio Grande
Mileage:	16,840

Today we crossed tow borders (Argentina to Chile and Chile back to Argentina) and arrived on Tierra del Fuego. It seems that we have found some luck again. The weather holds as a bright blue clear day. When we arrive at Punta Delgada for the short ferry crossing across the Magallen Straits, the sea is like glass and the sun has an early springtime warmth to it.

As we board the ferry, we have a sudden rush of excitement, almost hysterical. We had reached Tierra del Fuego!! The bike was running well. Kev had recovered and I was in high spirits. And we were ahead of schedule. We had recalculated final miles and times and it seemed that to come in at a 35 day + time was feasible.

We had this new aim - we took 12 1/2 days off the RTW Motorbike Record. Could we take 12 1/2 dys off the Trans Americas Motorbike Record too??

Low mileage day

Location:

San Julian

Kevin is stilll not back to 100%. We make some startegic decisions. Our timing against plan is better than expected. We have managed consistently since leaving Santiago to do more miles than plan each day (with the exception of yesterday) and we have some fat to play with. If we just do 300 miles today, we can still make Ushuaia, a day ahead of plan.

As the record gets closer and starts to focus into reality, we don't want to tke risks that are unnecessary and the struggle of the ride yesterday has left Kev drained.

We decide to do less miles and be totally prepared for the following days and the final cross to Tierra del Fuego. We know that the weather will only get colder and road conditions more difficult and we need to be back on form.

So we stop at Pto San Julian (apparently Drake landed here to behead one of his crew!), have an early night and prepare for the last stages.

Sick

Location:	Comodoro Rividavia
Mileage:	16,150

Kevin is sick and has been up most of the night with the s****. He cannot get up for our 6am start, is weak and white and shivery. I tell him to get another couple of hours rest and see how he feels. In the meantime, I stroll outside and on the beach to watch the sun rise.

We have been really lucky with our health, up until now and with only a few days left, it is looking dodgy as to how Kevin can ride today. I am very worried.

When we do leave around 8.30am, he looks grey and has no energy. Thw wind is freezing and for the first time on the back of the bike, I feel seriously concerned. Kev's hands are numb and the bike is wandering. I sit up alert and try to help him with talking about the road, but really I just feel helpless. This is his personal battle, him, the road, the bike and his mind.

We stop 100 miles down the road for coffee. His eyes are blank and his hands are like dead yellow wax. He can't speak. We spend an hour there to warm up and he has three hot coffees, before getting back on the bike.

Our ride becomes slow and faltering. Every so often Kev's hand falls from the throttle, the bike slows as he tries to stretch life back into his fingers. He knows no one else can get us to our destination and we have to carry on. Stopping in the middle of a freezing windy wasteland was not an option. We fight the wind all the way, it is persistent, unrelenting and the strongest we have had to deal with.

Without Kev being ill, this was a tough ride. With him zapped of energy, each minute felt like an hour. It was agony, watching the km markings to Comodor Rivadavia, dropping two by two. But we get there. Kev falls off the bike, his whole body going into spasms. He feels like ice. We make no apologies for finding the best place to stay in town. He starts to feel human again after a hot bath, plenty of pasta and orange juice.

He has no luxury to rest up. We still have Ushuaia to reach.

The Atlantic Coast

Location:

Las Grutas

This stretch of the ride is going to be really hard. With miles and miles of straight road running through flat low Pampas, there is nothing to occupy the mind. Each miles looks the same. There is little traffic, plenty of endless landscpe of low vegetation and increasing wind. It is so open here we can see the weather ahead and we ride straight towards black stormy clouds . We are on the edge of it. To the left blackness and sheets of rain. To the right, white puffy clouds and sun. We are in the middle and get the tail end of winds and rain.
We reach the Atlantic today. It is the first time on this ride and it another signal that the end is closer. On the edge of San Antonio we are picked up by a local couple riding a Virago, who insist that we should come to Las Grutas with them. It is another town down the coast, much nicer than San Antonio and has better hotels and a bike meeting!

No reason to pass up local knowledge! But little did we know that Kev would eat something that made him sick that night. He was up all night and it would make for a severe test of riding the next day.

Bike Service

Location:	Santiago, Chile
Mileage:	15,500

We have just over 400 or so miles to get to Santiago and a service for the bike. We were frustrated over the other broken spoke in Vallenar last night and want to get the bike thoroughly checked over before our final 2,500 miles to Ushuaia.

We should arrive in Santiago ahead of schedule - the service was due for the following day, but the more time they have the bike the better. We continue on the coastal road. It is the wrong time of year for the best riding and cold damp mist swirls in across the ocean and we have to wrap up with heated vests and a multitude of layers.

When we reach the Tunnel El Melon, for the final 60 miles to Santiago, it is only a short ride to pop out from the coast into the valley and another world, where the air is dry and warm, bright flowers dot the road side and palm trees and pines grow together. The view is magnificent of the Andes, clear blue skies and snow topped mountains, warm sun make for an instant lifting of spirits as we make the last hour into the city.

It is a relief to roll upto Williamson Balfour and we roll off the bike, having completed the run from the border, some 1400 miles or so in the past 36 hours.

We now have a scheduled day of rest as the bike is overhauled and we stay with our good amigo, Francisco and his family in Santiago. It is strange having some time off the bike, but we have to make sure it is A1 for the last leg of this ride - as we get closer to our goal, they more we feel tense and nervous as any hiccup at this stage would be devastating.

We have now ridden the bike, barring the air freight Panama to Caracus, for 28 straight days. Sometimes covering over 1,000 miles a day, other times as little as 300 miles (although spending the same time on the bike!). We have a moment to try a recoup energies adn give the last section everthing we have. In just one week, we should be in Tierra del Fuego.

Desert, desert, desert

Location:	Vallenar
Mileage:	15,050

It feels like the whole world is one big desert! Since we entered Peru, we have ridden nothing but desert roads. Some that run the coast, vast sandy deserts of huge curved dunes of creamy yellow fine sands, sharp ridges peppering you with tiny granules as your ride. Others are barren, grey, hard, with huge craggy outcrops, no life and shrouded in heavy mists. Yet again the landscape will change to bright reds and oranges set aginst deep blue skies. All different and yet all desert.

As the road turns towards Copiapo, finally, finally, life seems to take hold again. The valley is green and we see trees again. Although our plan was to stop in Copiapo that night, the need to get the bike to Santiago sooner rather than later, pushes us onto the next big town of Vallenar.

We arrive under a pitch black sky, with thousands of stars lighting the sky in a way we never see at home. We come down to earth with a bump when we do our nightly check of the bike - another back spoke has broken. When we think back on the days riding, we figure that it could have only happened when we were forced to ride on a diversion that made for 10 miles of so of dirt of the PanAm and it was corrugated iron dirt that banged us so much that we felt our teeth would drop out!

Ever since our pothole of Costa Rica, our back wheel has dogged us. We pull the broken one out and both silently keep our fingers crossed that the spokes sent from England have arrived in Santiago and will be ready for us.

Tumbleweed town

Location:	Pozo Almonte, Chile
Mileage:	14,200

Our decision to atop earlier last night was vindicated. The road out of Chala would have been treacherous in the dark. We leave the small fishing village of Chala as the sun rises. The road is cut into the side of huge cliffs and dunes, with nothing but the ocean on our right hand side. The drops are huge, with nothing but jagged rocks and white foam below. Frequent crosses mark the spots of ill made judgements that have ended in tragedy.

The coast line would be would be even more magnificent, but for the mist that still dogs us. As the road heads inland to Arequipa, we leave the cloud behind and turn into bright skies and deep orange deserts.

Our main problem along this stretch of road has been ensuring a supply of fuel. Towns marked on bold letters on the map turn out to be nothing more than ghost towns, with crumbling adobe buildings, covered in faded political slogans and a petrol station boasting concrete slabs where pumps once stood. We fill up at one stop where there is a single pump carrying 84 octane only, taking a couple of gallons to get us to Arequipa where we know we can buy a better grade.

When we arrive in the final Peruvian town of Tacna, it is mid afternoon and we have not yet eaten today. It sometimes is too hard to find quick food in Peru and we have no stomach for a standard almuerzo, comprising rice and meat.

At the border, we are charged 10 soles for a form needed to exit the country and enter Chile. It is a scam, as the police officer does not want to be paid in public, but ushers me into a little office and pockets the money, without issuing a receipt. I have not the energy or the language skills to argue and I have spare coins to pay.

Oh the difference when we reach Chile! Smart buildings, clean offices, computerised records to issue a temporary permit for the bike - and no charges for anything! The exit from the border shows us a sign for Santiago - 2,091 kms and we have two days to get there - less another hour as the clocks change!

We take the ring road around Arica and head for a small mining town called Pozo Almonte, population 5,000. The road there is even more isolated than anything we rode on in Peru. After we cross two huge valleys, and a second Aduana checkpoint, the road then runs straight for miles and miles, with no habitation at all.

I try not to think what we would do if anything went wrong out here. Especially as we are riding into the night and the light is fading rapidly. We are totally dependent on the bike. At least here we do not face the erratic driving of other Latino countries. The traffic is infrequent and few on this road and the drivers indicate and use lights.

We roll into Pozo around eight thirty. I realise that we have no Chilean peso on us. There were no money changers at the border! The Pan American runs straight through the middle, past the plaza where everyone is hanging out (it is Saturday night). The buildings are wooden and haphazard, with lights swinging in the wind and dust swirling around the road gives the feeling of a cowboy frontier town.

I need not have worried about money. It is now Chile and we may be in a small ming town in the middle of nowhere, but the Esso garage not only has 97 octane fuel (the first time we have been able to buy such good fuel in the whole of the journey), but clean banos, hot coffee and a ATM that accepts a VISA card! Armed with plenty of pesos, we stay at a small hosteleria at the edge of town and eat our first meal of the day.

Mid Peru

Location:	Chala
Mileage:	13,650

Today we fight the battle of Lima rush hour. Although the Pan American acts as a ring road around the centre, the traffic, like any capital city around the world, clogs the main thorough fare. It is utterly filthy, all manner of vehicles jostle, making five lanes from three, a screeching of bleeping horns and revving engines as buses cut in and smaller cars weave slowly in and out of every tiny gap. Lima traffic takes no prisoners.

Kevin is pumped with adrenalin, taking his space and somehow holding the monsters at bay as we edge around the city. It is not the traffic in front that casues us the most grief but what is behind, as more than once blind drivers almost smackinto the back of us before swerving at the last minute into an invisible space. I am glad I cannot see the wing mirrors as I hold on, nostrils clogging with black smoke, as we creep further forward.

The bike is not happy. The temperature starts to rise, little by little. There is no air cooling here and there is not relief from the jam. As each ten minutes rolls by, another bar clicks upwards. The race between the red zone and moving roads is on. It is painful towatch each notch appearing on the bike. Until, sitting there amidst the clouds of muck, we hit red. We cannot even pull over here to give the bike relief - not only is there no way out of the metal maze, this is not the part of town that you want to rest up in.

It is nothing more than pure luck which sees us crawl past the main artery leading off the Pan American and into the city and then suddenly leave the traffic behind. As the bike leaps forward, with speed almost instantaneously, the temperature drops. We breathe a huge sigh of relief. Within ten minutes all is normal and it is a clear road that will take us down to Nasca.

The Nasca Lines are one of the few ancient monuments, we are able to see in Peru from the Pan American. A third visit here and a quick climb to the top of the look out tower so we can remind ourselves of some of these weird and wonderful pictures in the sand.

From Nasca, the roads are long and straight and we keep good steady speed, but as the road heads back to the coast, the wind really builds up. It is the first time we have had to contend with really strong winds here. With the wind and the sands comes a new hazards as small dunes drift across the roads and sand snakes before our eyes. In places it is deep and the huge trucks wind across the road back and forth to avoid the worst. We come into Chala early evening, but take a strategic decision not to continue under the conditions we have to ride in. Better to be there to ride another day.

Hampered!

Location:	Barranca, Peru
Mileage:	13,250

It is a frustrating day and we only manage 400 miles. We are hampered by the fact that we need to ensure each night we can find a place to stay. We dont carry camping equipment or food and so we have no choice but to find a small hotel or hospadaje. It is times like this when having a support vehicle would make your choices so much easier.

Although we can ride further, the next stop after Barranca is Lima and we do not want to arrive there in the dark, without a map and looking for a place to stay. We decide to get an early night here and be ready for a big day tomorrow.

This ride is so different to the Around the World Record. Steady pace is critical and the maxim of "stop to go further" is one that we hold by. It would be too easy to burn out too quickly or just ride and ride without thinking where to stop. In the Central and South American countries, where facilities can be few, you have to plan. If you dont, then you could end up somewhere shitty, with a bad nights rest and wipe out the next day.

You get to a point that you have come so far that the strategy becomes ensuring that you do not make errors and get too tired - especially when we are well on target to take ten days off the record.

Cusqueña Country

Location:

Chiclayo

After such a hard day yesterday, we left later than normal to ride to Peru. The border was only some 50 miles or so down the road. It is the third time we have crossed this border and each time, it´s chaotic and colourful nature typify South America. To get to the border, we ride the bike through a market selling from the exotic friuts to mundane T-shirts, live animals, local crafts and clothes. It is loud, busy and latino. There are 30 or so Ecuadorian police lining the road upto the border on either side with riot gear. There does not seem to be problems, maybe they are a deterrent, who knows?

We have plenty of people wanting to help and as Kev does the paperwork, I am left guarding the bike and drawing an ever increasing crowd of blokes, asking questions, pointing and pushing. I have also two policemen who stand close by, who smile and seem to keep the crowd at bay a little.

Crossing to Peru is a simple case of crossing the bridge and under a huge blue sign saying "Bienvenidos al Peru". We cross quickly and easily and ride off down the Pan American and into our twelth country. It is a huge boost.

We have left the mountains long behing until we need to cross them again in Santiago and after some miles of coast road with a clear blue sea, we head inland. From now on we run more or less the Pacific Coast (though not always on the coast), through mostly desert terrains. It never ceases to amaze me how people live insome of the places we see, with no facilities, makeshift shelters of sticks and black plastic, with desert and scrubland stretching as far as you can see.

It is a cloudy day and the whole place is grey. Dark grey skies, grey desert with dead grey grasses, cut by a black road running straight straight as far as they eye can see for miles. The ride is tedious, broken up by the odd goat or dog wandering at the side of the road, shanty towns and a few traffic police who seem to be sleeping at the side of the road.

The positive is that we make good progress and so far we have no more problems with the back wheel. However the bike feels tired. It clocked over 22,000 miles yesterday on the mileometer (some 12,000 miles of which are the wolrd record ride). We have decided that in Santiago the bike needs a good overhaul. Kevin is half minded to fly Steve out from Balderstons - the only person he trusts with the bike!

We have four days to get to Santiago for the service. We have to make it - the next three days are a public holiday in Chile to celebrate Independence and BMW is closed.

Lots problems in such a small country!

Location:

Machala

We left Otovalo early as the market was setting up and headed for the Equator and then Quito. You wouldn´t think that finding the equator should cause so many problems. We have been there before, but on the road into Quito it became elusive. Before we knew it we were at BMW in Quito having not seen where the equator was!

We managed to get a new visor for Kevin´s helmet, which had snapped the day previously, do some publicity shots and get a good map of Quito and the surrounding area. We did a quick about turn for 15kms to find the equator line so we could get proof photos for Guiness before heading back south.

The plan was to get as close to the Peru border as possible with the town of Machala the intended stop point. In such a small country the task seemed quite easy but Ecuador has a knack of presenting you with major junctions, no signs and helpful characters who contradict each other as to the way to go. The roads here vary from excellent to non-existent. The other traffic on the road varies from dirty to filthy black fume belching machines. I think we must have smoked the equivalent of 500 cigarettes in this country. Ecuador takes the prize for the dirtiest smelliest most poisonous trucks, easily.

The city of Ambato seemed to having all its roads dug up at the same time and the bike took a real beating. Some miles out, the bike started to wobble as if we had a flat. We pulled up on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere and we found that a bolt from the back wheel had totally shaken loose, leaving the wheel running out of sync. Worse was to come as tightening the bolts did not seem to help. A test ride by Kev showed that the wheel was still not running true and there was resistance.

By this time we had attracted a crowd of locals who had been jammed packed into two lorries and had pulled up next to us on the side of the road. With the help of one, we took the back wheel off completely, checked out the whole of the back setting and then re-set it back on. With only a couple of hours of daylight left, I was quickly checking the nearest places to limp into and a contingency plan for how to solve the problem.

It was with visible relief that when Kev tested the bike for the second time, it seemed we had corrected the problem. We can tell that the back wheel is still not running quite true but it is back to being rideable.

The next problem was having lost hours here, we could not make Machala until late, meaning night riding in the mountains or we had to hole up too early when we still had daylight. World records are not made by taking the easy option, we both decided to carry on. As daylight started to disappear and with a huge storm brewing ahead, our next piece of bad luck was to take a wrong turning.

We did not know this until two hours down the road and over a foggy mountain tops at an altitude so high as to cause a few headaches, and arriving in a town called Bucay (not on either of the two maps we had), where the only road that locals pointed to was one that was signed to a town on the west coast and not south. Somehow we had ended up riding two sides of a triangle and adding another 100 miles to the ride.

It is by now pitch black, we are two hours from Machala and have the demoralising prospect of having to ride until after eleven on roads where we continually faced head on buses and lorries. In the black of night with lights dazzling off the visor, it was like playing Russian Roulette. With truckers not used to bikes riding at the speed we were, we were forced over to the edge of the road on numerous ocassions.

The final miles into Machala lasted an age, in which I am sure that we visibley aged too. At our hotel, we fell off the bike shaking, eyes sore from fumes and dazzled by oncoming beams, legs numb and arses aching.

Demonstrations

Location:

Otovalo, Ecuador

Today was to be our final day in Colombia. For the first hundred miles or so after Popoyan, the military presence was pretty high. Even at our hotel in Popoyan, we had three soldiers at the entrance. This area is still under heavy surveillance - the archaelogical area of San Augustin, some 50 miles or so into the mountains from here, and where we both spent Xmas five years ago, is still a no-go area.

It was hard not to do the last bit of this Colombian ride with an edge of tension. But as we approached the border, the military seemed to disappear and we sailed through the last few towns easily, with no checks.

As we checked out of Colombia, it was with relief and sadness. Relief that despite FCO advice not to travel overland that we had and we had not had any problems, sadness that such a beautiful country seems to be held to ransom. Also special memories of the Colombian riders who had ridden with us for two days and showing us such great hospitality.

Our elation at getting to Ecuador unscathed was short lived. This has been our third visit to Ecuador and every time now there has been protests and demonstrations. Last time there was even a coup and they ousted the then President. This time at the first town we came to there was a blockade across the road, some seven or eight trucks all staggered across. Luckily the bike could squeeze through. And then at the next town the same again, on entry and exit, trucks blocking the Pan American.

At some places it was taking us twenty minutes or more to find a way through the maze of vehicles. The funny thing was that the drivers who were demonstrating were the ones guiding us through the block! At one point, five of them stood around the bike guiding it through the narrowest of strips of roads and holding it upright so it did not topple sideways into a steep ditch next to the road.

Our arrival at Otovalo was delayed by a couple of hours but other than that, we are through OK. We remain about 100 miles ahead of plan, in excellent spirits, if not quite weary.

The bike running well but feels a little tired. There is no doubt that the demands on the bike for this ride are significantly more than the around the world record. On this ride, the liberty to pick the route is limited and you cannot avoid hundreds of miles of mountain roads, severe bends and poor road conditions. It´s a lot of punishment for a bike that is at maximum load capacity and seems more and more to grind out on the curves.

From behind to ahead

Location:

Popayan, Colombia

We have gone from being delayed and losing half a day due to Customs Venezuela to being in Popayan, Colombia, about 100 miles ahead of schedule. Don´t ask how we did it - let´s say it is all thanks to the Medellin GS riders. Do they know how to ride!

After all the hassle getting the bike into Venezuela no one asked for the documents when we were there and they didn´t even want to check one scrap of papaer for the bike when we left.

Colombian Immigracion managed to squeeze dollars out of us by insisting that we should have a return air ticket out of Colombia or else they could not stamp our passports in. Somehow leaving on a bike was just no good enough.

The ride on the Northern Coast was quick, the road long, straight and in good condition and other that torrential rain and the numerous police check points, nothing extraordinary. The police have been fabulous with us, always interested in the bike and most shaking our hand for visiting Colombia. We stayed the night on the Tyrona coast which is spectacular.

Our ride the next day got us to Caucasia where we met Camilo, Felipe and Diego, GS riders from Medellin. Caucasi to Medellin is the most extraordinary steep mountain road, bend after bend after bend and truck after truck. In places the road is just collapses into ridges and waves, grinding the underneath of the bike. It was a little hair raising, especially coming into Medellin in the dark - but we were riding with guys who knew the road like the back on their hand.

From here to past Cali we had Colombian riders stay with us and get us through the cities. We stayed with Camilo in Medellin and the following day, although our target ride was to Cali, actually got to Popayan about 100 miles further south. We had one check point where they tried to ring through on their mobile phone with our passport numbers to check us out, but gave up when they could not get a signal!

It is the first time that we actually have a little time in hand.

Tomorrow, all being well, we should cross to Ecuador and head for the Equator.

Keep Smiling

Location:

Caracus

I´d like to write and tell you about first day of riding in Caracus. Instead I can give you a wonderful description of Aduana Offices, Guardia Nacional and a puzzle of other places with no signs but people who want stamps and photocopies. We do not get the OK to go until mid-day.

We are back at the hotel here, packing up and ready to make some progress now. Maybe we will get to Valencia. It is a few hundred miles down the road and at least some progress.

It is 110 degrees here and even whilst loading the bike, we have sweated three gallons. We have now lost our day that we gained back and are back at one day behind. This messes up arrangements with the Colombian riders and I hope that we can still get to ride with them this week-end.

We are off in half an hour to get a bit of road under our belt. South America here we come!

Venezuelan Customs

Location:

Caracus

*******!! It has been a frustrating day. Armed with our carnet de passge for the bike and all our documents and copies present and correct we thought that we would be able to get the bike out in one day.

The Latino love of stamps and copies in triplicate, combined with a 4pm closing left us stranded at the Customs warehouse with no bike and a "mañana" ringing in our ears. We missed the slot by only twenty minutes and Kevin's offer to pay someone extra was frowned upon immemdiately. Come back Central America!

All our hard work to claw back our day in Central America is now draining away. The plan was to have the bike tonight and leave Caracus at first light. The reality will be back to the Customs warehouse at 8am and hope that it is no more than an hour to get the bike. If we can do this, we may be able to set off about 11am and have only lost 5 hours or so.

We still have our spoke problem with the back wheel. We find out that the quickest we can get spokes to South America even with DHL speediest service is 4 working days. We speak to Camilo Delgado, a Colombian rider from Medellin, who is meeting us on the ride in Caucasia with other riders and explain the problem. He will try his best to scrounge spokes and screws off other GS riders for us so at least we have some to strengthen the back wheel. Just cross your fingers that the wheel holds.

In the meantime we are having spokes sent to BMW in Quito, Ecuador for us to pick up as we should be there next Tuesday or Wednesday.

SOS, Panama

Location:

Panama City

We know that the bike has been air freighted and so now we are able to book our flights out of Panama to Caracus. We never leave a country until we know that the bike has gone first! We fly at 7.30pm in the evening and the day is taken up with lots of jobs to organise. Getting stocked up with dollars prior to going to South America as well as visiting the SOS Village and doing some press interviews.

Although our bike had already flown, Bavarian BMW Motors lent their new GS bike for photos and TV. AT the Village, lots of the children crowded around, tried on our helmets and gave us lots of hugs. It was really motivating for us to see the children look so happy and excited.

A special thanks to SOS in Panama, particuarly Norma, Enrique and Mirca who looked after us so well and spent ages waiting with us and to Julio who offered all the help possible from SOS in Panama.

Servicing

Location:

Panama City

We take the bike to BMW as to plan on Monday 1 Sept. We are back on target. Unfortunately we have to wait to 11am for the mechanic to arrive and start work on the bike. Not only that, they do not have the spokes to repair the wheel.

Our freight agent insists he must have the bike no later than 4pm or else it will not make the flight to Caracus. Everything hinges on the speed of the service. It is nailbiting stuff. Whilst we wait Julio (Director of SOS in Panama) and Norma from SOS come to see us and offer any help they can for us whilst we are here. But all we can do it wait. The mechanic tells us he will not finish until 4pm but this is too late.

In the end we leave at 3.30pm with the airport some 40 minutes away. With the SOS truck leading the way, we follow them through to the airport as fast as we can go. We arrive there 5 minutes after deadline, but they take the bike. They have already started to build a crate for us. With paperwork done and the SOS team waiting with us, we get back to the hotel by 7pm that night.

It has been a hugely tiring day. Our visit to the SOS Village is now lined up for the next day. Now that we know the bike has gone, the only thing for us to do is book our own flights!