The Long Road Home

Our trip officially ended in the parking lot of the Argentinian equivalent of Walmart on Saturday March 14, 2009 at 5:46 p.m. After traversing the most spectacular and difficult terrain on earth Marty and I ended up lost in Lanus, Argentina on a Saturday afternoon and took refuge in the Carrefour parking lot. But don't cry for me Argentina, we had a friend come and lead us safely to her house in Lanus Oeste and declared the ride successfully completed. My odometer reads 23,721 miles, for a total trip of 16,768 miles or about a zillion kilometers.

The last couple of weeks have been stressful because we finally had the major breakdown we knew would come. On March 2 the fuel pump on Marty's bike just died 56 km south of Cerro Sombrero, Chile on the Island of Tierra Del Fuego. There are more remote and inconvenient places to break down I am sure, but I can't name any!! The motorcycle just died in the middle of the dirt road. We were able to push it onto an estancia and get it out of the wind in a little sheep shed.

The nice thing about Patagonia is people will actually help you. So we waived down a passing truck, got a ride into Cerro Sombrero, and the local hotel operator arranged for a guy with a truck to help us fetch the broken bike and haul it more than 200 miles to Punta Arenas. This trip would take two days and involve a ferry crossing across the Straights of Magellan.

We tested things in the sheepshed and originally thought it was the fuel pump on Monday. And a mechanic reinforced the diagnosis on Thursday. So we had been broken down for 3 full days by time we could even start to order parts. Let me say up front that the BMW dealer in Santiago was not helpful at all. If I have the chance to avoid doing business with Williams and Balfour again I will relish it. They charged $1000 for a $300 part that should not have broken in the first place, then failed to ship it. Their excuse was that they needed the original credit card. It was necessary in the end to have a friend in Santiago go to their office, pay them cash and arrange shipping. By the time it was all said and done the part arrived 4 days late on Tuesday afternoon. The only saving feature of this episode is that the part was in Chile.

By now our mechanic was out of town. So I installed the new pump and prayed that it was the real problem. It was. We had just enough battery left to crank the engine and get it to turn over. Elated is the only way to describe the feeling when the engine thumped back to life.

So the last four days of the trip took two weeks. The winds of Patagonia are now behind me. I haven't seen a Guanaco ( South American Camel) for 6 days now. The climate and landscape changed about 800 miles ago, and the end of the earth is now behind me.

We are going to ship the bikes tomorrow. They have lost that new look, but today we did bring them to the car wash to remove the protective layer of grime, sand, and dust that has held them together for the past four months. I also discovered some cracks in places there should not be cracks. And I have started the list of repairs that will be needed when we get back to Omaha.

So that's the trip, unless I get hit by a bus on the way to the port tomorrow to crate the machines.

Fritz

Tierra Del Fuego

It is 14955 miles from Buchanan’s BP at 82nd and Dodge in Omaha to the Yakush Hostel in downtown Ushuaia Argentina at the tip of South America, plus a few air miles between Panama City and Bogotá. Ushuaia is the end of the road, in all respects. In theory one can get across the Beagle Channel to Puerto William Chile to go further south. That’s the theory. But there is no ferry to take vehicles.

We crossed from Punta Arenas Chile on the mainland by ferry to the island of Tierra del Fuego. It is a two hour trip across the Straights of Magellan at this point. The island is cut in half and shared by Chile and Argentina. So you can’t get to Argentina without going through Chile. We started out crossing the island at Porvenir Chile.

All of the roads on the Chilean side are what is termed “ripio”. This is not Iowa gravel. It is rocks embedded in packed soil with a cobble stone effect. In other places it is just packed dirt that turns to a mud rut. Still other places are piles of loose gravel on top of hard stone. I think they call it ripio for what it does to tires. It shaves the rubber right off. Anyway, we crossed over 120 miles of dirt and gravel to get to Argentina. The northern part of the island is identical to the Nebraska sand hills. The bottom 100 miles is forest and mountains. And it is cold. Both Chile and Argentina include their Antarctic territory in Tierra Del Fuego. It is also summer here, but you could fool me. It was 30 degrees F when we arrive in Ushuaia on Thursday the 27 of February. So I guess it makes sense to include this place with Antarctica when it is only 750 miles away.

We spent some time just enjoying the fact that we had made the journey. In some ways we were relieved, but a little depressed too. It is kind of like the last day of summer camp. But the national park at the end of the trail is worth it. On Friday We got the mandatory photos and headed for the Hostel. The next day we took a boat trip out into the Beagle Channel. Cold again, but worth it.

When we woke up on Sunday guess what? Yeah- it was cold. Real cold. In fact, it was spitting snow when we pulled out of Ushuaia and headed to the sunny north on March 1. Well it was the sunny north for about 10 minutes. The rest of the day it was cold!! I could have ridden across the sand hills in December and had the same experience, except for unforgettable mountains, and the Atlantic Ocean. Details, details.

Tonight as I write this blog we are at San Sebastian on the Chilean side of the island. There is a small Inn here. We are the only guests. Marty bought a bottle of wine and is sharing it with the owner and the cook as I write. The lights come on at 8 pm, because that is when they start the generator. Before that we sat around the wood stove and gas lights. The wind is howling just as it has for the last week. And it is hard to leave this cold place.

Tomorrow is another 100 plus miles of dirt in the unrelenting wind. It pushes motorcycles around on the road as it they were riding on ball bearings. From time to time we get stuck in a rut. We have learned that when one is in a rut, stay in the rut. When one tries to jump out of a rut in the wind, the result is a sliding twisting motorcycle. So the riding is the same as going down a single track trail, except trucks come barreling down on us on occasion.

Anyway – we made it to the end of the continent, the end of the island, and the end of the road. I am tired and cold, but not ready to come home. I will warm up on my way to Buenos Aires and give another report.

PS After I wrote this we broke down an hour North of San Sebastian on a desolate stretch of dirt. That post will follow when we get Marty’s bike repaired – someday.

Fritz

Magnificent National Parks

Both Argentina and Chile have done a great job when it comes to preserving their outstanding landscapes in national parks. We visited the two most spectaculat ones, Perito Moreno Glacier in Argentina, and Torres del Paine in Chile.

Perito Moreno Glacier is nice because it is located near the town of El Calafate. El Calefate is the equivalent of Jackson Hole. It is loaded with shops, restuarants and hotels. And it is windy. It is so windy that we had to take care parking the bikes so that they would not be blown over.

Our visit to the glacier was terrific because we were able to see large chunks of it calving. And we were able to capture on event in photos.

After 2 days in Calafate we headed down the dirt again and crossed the border at Cerro Castillo. This border crossing was about as out of the way as posible. When we arrived at the Argentine side to check out we had to wait 10 minutes. We had to wait not because of traffic or the crush of visitors. We had to wait because the border guards were playing the customs agents it a ping pong death match. Yeah – you got it. The entire staff at the border were playing high stakes ping pong. And we dared not disturb them lest our papers be rejected. It looked to me like the border police won the match.

Another 2 hours down the dirt track lies the magnificent Torres del Paine national park. This is the premier national park in Chile, and is the most spectaculat in all of South America. It is not at all like a US national park. One cannot just drive up there. Although we were able to drive our motorcycles into the park as far as the base hostel, most access is by foot. This is not Mount Rushmore. If you think you can just drive up, pay the park fee, pull into the parking lot, and take a short walk to the outlook for photos—forget it.

Thousands of people trek the park every year on trips of 3 to 7 days. It is a full day climb to the torres for which the park is named. The park is not handicap or elderly accessable. And if you have a heart condition, this is not the place for you. Marty and I climbed to the torres. My legs hurt for 2 days after the feat. But it was worth it, even thought I may never walk again. There are 3 or 4 treks taking about 5 days. The place is loaded with backpackers of every age from around the world, with a large number of Europeans. Marty and I stood out as “Real ‘Mericans” because we clammered up the mountain in our blue jeans and biker stuff. In fact we fashioned a back pack out of a tank bag with BMW tie downs for shoulder staps. Next time I have got to get some real climbing boots and at least one piece of clothing with “Marmot” on it. Marty makes a good mule for hauling things up a mountain.

Both parks are on the backpacker trail for good reason. They are worth it.

Fritz

Ruta 40

When I last left you I think I was stuck in the rain in Chile after Marty dumped the bike. Things did not get much better. We headed down the road and found it was impassable. In fact. impassable would be an improvement. The bridges were out. The water in the towns along the way had been turnd off because of floooding, and people were stuck for three days before they could even turn around.

So we headed for Pto Ibanez and waited a day for a ferry to Chile Chico, Chile where we were able to cross the border to Argentina. It was dry and clear.

Ruta 40 is the main north- south road in Argentina along the front slope of the Andes. But it is not paved, for the most part. This fact combined with the wind makes it a difficult ride. We rode for eight hours without any town, and spent the night at an Estancia named La Siberia. Estancias are ranchesand some offer lodging. Some are just operating ranches. But La Siberia has real accomodations. Marty and I basically slept in the bunk house. On the first day down ruta 40 we metabout 10 people, eight of which were Germans. At he Estancia we met another German couple who had lived in California for a while anda n Argentine couple and there 3 kids on a fishing vacation. So I ended up speaking more German than Spanish in this remote region.

The high point of the trip down Ruta 40 happened just south of Tres Lagoa on the asphalt. There is a short asphalt section that connects some east-west roads. Some Argentine police on their day off had set up an impromptu check point consisting of 2 orange cones and a private Ford F150 pickup. Our rule every where is we stop at real checkpoints where there is a building, flag, scale and such. But othersise we wave and keep going. So I waved. Marty was not as lucky and as he approached about 15 seconds behind me a cop stepped in front of him and got him pulled over. I pulled up about 500 meteres down the road and waited. When Marty did not come , I went back. Marty was talking with the cop and had given him copies of his license and registration, which did not please the guy. He was kind of surprised when I came back and pulled in behind him. The cop wanted original papers and wanted to search Marty´s top bag. Marty told him “ sure – at the municipal office. I don´t open anything on the road”. The stop was obviosly not legitimate because the cops did not want to go to town with 2 foreigners. So Marty is now 1 for 1 with the cops. Those guys were so perplexed when we refused to give original documents. It gives them nothing to hold on to. And we never refused to comply, we just say “ we will do it at the station”. Out attitude with cops trying to shake us down now is that we have all the time in the world. They don´t.

Then it was on to Perito Moreno glacier and the great town of El Calafate. I need to write a separate blog on Perito Moreno and the next stop Torres del Paine in Chile. But I have attached some photos in the mean time. Today we are on Tierra Del Fuego and have arrived in Ushuaia. So I have a lot of blog updates to give.

Fritz

Patagonia

Marty has become unbalanced on this part of the trip. Yesterday while on day 2 of our trip down the Carreterra Austral Marty hit a soft spot and dumped the bike. He was unhurt, but he shredded one of his panniers. It took us a couple of hours to put things back together, but we got underway and are now in Coyhuique.

Chilean Patagonia must be seen to be appreciated. It is wet, cool, sunny, pine forests, glaciers, fiords, rutted roads, mud, and spectacular beauty. Saturday we arrived in Chaiten by ferry. Chaiten was partly destroyed by a volcano last year and has few inhabitants left. But that´s where the ferry left us, so that´s where we started. We made it to Puyuhaipi Saturday night and collapsed.

Sunday we started late and had the mishap. Then it started to rain, then ice in the higher elevations. But we are loving this.

We head for the border with Argentina tomorrow.

Fritz

The End Of The Road - Almost

We have reached the end of the road. The Pan American ends about a km south of Quellon Chile. Chile’s Ruta 5, which we have followed off and on for the past two weeks, just ends on the island of Chiloe. So tomorrow we take a ferry back to the mainland to continue the trip south on the Carraterra Austral.

Southern Chile is green, warm, and filled with Chileans on summer vacation. Chileans enjoy a security that does not exist in any other country we have visited, the USA included. We have seen thousands of teenage and 20 something Chileans hitchhiking their way south. There is no fear of harm. They have their backpacks, sleeping gear, and get rides from everyone. Remember real family vacations? They still have them here. We see the whole family packed in the Subaru station wagon or the SUV packed full with bikes on the back, and a roof rack stacked high. Everyone heads to the cabins on the lake, just like Minnesota used to be, and spend two or three weeks together.

Another thing that we love, and did not take too much getting used to, is the system of budget hostels where you get a room, share the bathroom ( just like Minnesota used to be) , and get a breakfast with the room. We meet so many interesting and great people. One of the families we met was Sergio and Maria Soledad Letelier and their two daughters. Picture attached. Sergio is a food distributor in Santiago. He saw an ad in the paper and bought a 600 acre parcel on the island of Chiloe two years ago. Now he is trying to build a fishing lodge and summer resort. He is a successful businessman, but we met him and his family at the hostel in Castro, where they had a room and shared the three bathrooms the the other 25 of us. He was using his vacation time and the hostel as headquarters to work out his development plans with the local indigenous leadership. My point is that the Chileans really enjoy being with each other and being in a more communal vacation atmosphere. And social status and money are not the determinative factor.

When we got to the hostel in Pucon they announced that there was rafting a 2pm, and would we like to go. Absolutely. So we dumped our gear, got some food, and proceeded to raft some class 4 and 5 rapids. Picture attached. People are so layed back here. Remember what I said about a sense of security. It is so pronounced that there was no sign up sheet, no liablity , and they said pay us tomorrow when you get some cash. Try that in Jackson Hole.Well we did pay them, had a wonderful time, met some Germans and Peruvians on the raft trip, and slept great.

We are now on the ferry route again. We had to take a ferry to get on the island of Chiloe, and we will take one to get off too. There is something about a ferry ride with the motorcycles that spells adventure.

So as I look out the window of my room on the port of Quellon on a dreary Thursday night, I am looking forward to the trip to Chaiten tomorrow to continue the last leg of the trip to Ushuia Argentina and Tierra Del Fuego.

Fritz

ATACAMA

Marty and I have traveled more than 12,000 miles. We have arrived in Santiago, Chile and are spending a few days getting service and repairs for the bikes.

It has been some time since we last posted. After we got shaken down by the cop in Barrancas Peru we headed south through Lima and then on to Nasca, the home of the famous Nasca lines. We spend the night and then headed for Cuzco. As I reported the road was great, except where it wasn’t. What I did not tell you was how cold and desolate it is in the Andes. We encountered hail at 15,000 feet on two occasions. It was a two day trip to Cuzco. We stayed at the Hotel Santa Maria, which is owned by nuns. They let us park the bikes in their lobby. There was another motorcyclist there named Martin, from England. So the 3 bikes parked in the lobby gave the hotel the look of the adventure motorcycle center of Cuzco.

We received some great advice from Martin. When we were talking about our tires and going to La Paz for new ones Martin asked if we had checked the weather. We figured that it is summer south of the equator and therefore dry travel season. It turned out that Bolivia experiences its winter and greatest rainfall in January and February. He had been to Bolivia on prior travels and informed us that there is no paved road to Argentina through Bolivia, something I found unbelievable until I examined the map again. So since our tires were shot, the roads were mud, and we were not yet through the border we decided to change the itinerary and cross the Atacama Desert in Chile instead.

Martin had the greatest story about being taken by Peruvian police. When he crossed the border he changed $100 for 300 Peruvian Sols. Turned out all three bills were counterfeit. There is an enormous amount of counterfeit in Peru, so everyone is watching for it, and Martin could not use the bills. So he decided to keep them and try to pass them when he could. He was pulled over by a cop outside of Lima and accused of speeding. The cop just saw the opportunity to shake Martin down. So Martin negotiated the “fine” to 200 Sols, and duly paid the cop with two counterfeit bills.

Marty and I went to Machu Pichu last week. It is a pretty grueling all day trip with a nine hour train ride. So the day starts at 6 am and ends at 9:30 pm. But Machu Pichu is worth it, and we now understand why it is important. It would be a great place to spend a couple of days climbing around. There is a great one week hiking trip up the Inca trail that ends in Machu Pichu.

Last Tuesday we went to Lake Titicaca, just to see it. It was on the way to Bolivia, but not too far out of the way to Chile. But to get to Chile we had to cross the Andes, again. This time the pass was dry, but very very cold at 4550 meters. So we had Alpaca stew for lunch.

Once out of the high Andes we hit desert again. But our tires were really showing wear. By the time we hit the border with Chile we could see the wear bars and had real misgivings about crossing the Atacama Desert with poor tires. It is a dangerous and unforgiving place, so we started searching for tires in Chile, and found some 200 km south of the Peruvian border in Iquique. It was a great decision. The Atacama is cold and absolutely barren. I mean no cactus, no scrub, not a blade of grass for 800 miles. In some places it looks like Mars. In others it looks like the moon. We were warned to leave by 7 am on our third day crossing from Antofogasta. There is no fuel or food for the first 300 km or so. So we brought extra gas as a precaution. I figured we had crossed the worst when I could see tiny cactus and scrub. That lasted another 400 km.

Iquique is a pretty cool place on the Pacific. It is surrounded by the Atacama, but is a major port and has everything. We stayed at the Backpacker Hostel. Hostels are good places to stay because people talk with each other. Marty met a lot of people and went out at 1:30 am. I slept. But I got him up fairly early and we made out way through the desert along the coastal highway. So on the left was this lifeless desert and on the right was the Pacific Ocean and all the water in the world for 700 km.

We arrived in Santiago on Tuesday Feb 3 and have been relaxing at the home of Eugene Valenzuela, his wife Lida, and 7 kids. Gene lived with my family in 1966 and 1967 and went to Creighton Prep high school with me. We have kept in touch and Marty lived with Gene and his family in 1999 and 2000. So it has been good to renew the old friendship.

We are taking no more tire chances and have bought 2 new sets of tires to haul with us. I do not think they will fit very elegantly on the bikes. But we know there will be no more tires for at least 4000 miles until Buenos Aires. Moreover, at least 1500 miles of that is on dirt or gravel roads.

We leave for the Chilean lake country and Carraterra Austral on Saturday.

Fritz

Pan American Pictures

We got the computer working again. So I have attached a bunch of photos taken while we rode down the Andes to Peru. The pictures of the good cops and the volkswagen boulders are included.

Fritz

PAN AMERICAN TRAIL

Well the last time I checked in we were in Ecuador in the rain. That was last Friday. It got worse. We had decided to travel on Ecuador highway 35, which is the Pan American highway. It should be renamed the Pan Am Trail. For three solid days we clawed our way down the spine of the Andes. The road was washed out in many places, and last Sunday we waited at the hotel for 2 hours before even starting out because a massive landslide had taken out about 200 yards of the road. There were so many landslides that we just got used to dodging the piles of rock in the road. In other places the road was just nothing but a trail of potholes. We did not stop to take pictures because it was a soaking, muddy mess.

We finally made it to the border Sunday night and got the bikes washed off Monday morning before crossing to Peru. The crossing was relatively easy, and we were warned about the police in the towns along the way. Things changed immediately in Peru. We were stopped by police a couple of times the first day, and they treated us well. Got our photo taken with a good group. Also, the stench from the garbage in norhtern Peru was overwhelming. I never want to go back to Sullana Peru again.

We took a rest day, watched the inauguration, and started out again on Wednesday. We got to within 6 km of our target in Barrancas when we were stopped by a cop. Our prior contacts had all been good so we figured no big deal. He took Marty´s licence and then started to accuse us of speeding in a 35km zone. It was one of those places where they drop the 80km limit to 35 in about 10 feet. The short version is that he would not give the license back until he got cash, and gave no ticket or receipt. So that left a bad taste in our mouths. This is the only instance where speaking Spanish did not work in our favor. We think the guy would have given up if he could not do the shakedown in Spanish.

Peru is basically a big pile of rock and sand. We have crossed so much desert here. There is nothing in Peruvian desert. Nothing- just sand and rock. We are high in the Andes now and it is still mostly rock. But Peru has good roads. Compared to Ecuador this is heaven, with one exception. The highway to Cuzco is so bad for about 60 km. They have let the surface degrade to the point there is no surface, just thousands of potholes. The road is so bad that it has shaved hundreds of miles off our tires and broken pieces off the motorcycles by impact, shaking, and vibration.

We are going to try to be in Cuzco tomorrow, do the Machu Pichu thing, and buy tires if we can find them. Sorry we have no pictures. The computer broke and we are trying to recover the photos and figure a new way to transfer our photos to this blog.

Fritz

Crossing The Equator

We have come over 8000 miles now. We crossed the equator on January 14, 2009. Only another 54 degrees south latitude and 8000 miles to go. Think of it this way. It is as far to the tip of South America from the equator as it is from the equator to the Canadian border.

We no longer measure distance in kilometers or miles. Time between points is the standard. There is “bus time” and moto time. When we ask how long (far) it is to a destination we usually get “It’s about 5 hours, but on the motos 4” as an answer. We always ask what it takes the bus, because we find that to be more accurate. For those of you living in the USA when you see a map with mileage between points you can pretty well estimate the time of arrival figuring the speed limit. Not here. It does not matter what the speed limit is. The average speed on even the best roads is usually less than 30 miles per hour. So on a good day we can make 250 miles. There are not many good days.

The other thing is top speed. Sure the bikes can go 80 all day long, but we feel fortunate to keep things at 60 for any length of time. It is a constant acceleration and deceleration. But up here in the Andes we are happy to have fuel injection. The machines still have punch at 12000 ft.

So let me bring you up to date. Last Saturday we rode into Cali Colombia. We stayed at the Hostel Casa Blanca operated by Danish national Mikkel Thomsen. Our roommate John was a yacht delivery captain from South Africa. Mike has immigrated to Colombia and runs a very nice hostel. The place is spotless. The rates are very low, and secure parking for the bikes was next door.

Cali was not hopping because it was a national holiday, and the town was quiet because most people had gone to the beach. We both loved Colombia and would like to have spent more time. It is a great place, but I do understand what all the fighting is about. There are really about 6 Colombia’s. Northern Bogotá is very European and wants to impose centralized control. Southern Bogota is like most other large latin cities. Basically the attitude is that the rest of the country exists for the benefit of Bogotá. There are also landless farmers who object to this. Then there are the paramilitaries who are basically private armies for the landed class. Add a little drug money plus a couple of cartels and this creates real problems. So the main towns and highways are controlled by the central government, but things are still unsettled in the countryside, especially down on the Ecuador border. Still, I would return and tour more if I had the chance.

Monday we rode to Pasto Colombia, and Tuesday we crossed the border to Ecuador. The border crossing was not difficult. Just time consuming. We waited in line for hours to clear immigration. Then we waited again to clear customs with the bikes. After 4.5 hrs we were free to go. Then it started to rain. Real rain. We just pushed on and found a good room in Ibarra Ecuador that night.

So now we are getting ready to ride to Peru. We left Quito this morning and the roads were great. Then we hit fog at 10,000 ft and it started to rain again. We gave up at 3 pm and found a hotel because we could not see. We have no itinerary except to visit Machu Pichu and maybe drive the world’s most dangerous road in Bolivia.

I will try to get pictures posted as soon as I can. By the way—Marty and I purchased our Panama hats and we look very studly indeed.

Fritz

We Love Platypus

We are in backpacker nirvana. As you might recall from earlier blogs, Panama City is not the easiest place to park a motorcycle, especially a shiny red 650GS with all the gear attached. So we made it out of Panama by way of air freight on the bikes. I will give a separate technical explanation of that latter for the biker dudes.

Anyway we needed a hotel in Bogota. So as we sat in the airport waiting to go to Colombia we emailed and called the world famous Platypus Hostel in Bogota. They had no room at the inn originally, but late found us space. This is a great place. But once again, it would have been a little hard to find in the middle of the night on a motorcycle, and impossible to negotiate during the day because we did not have our Colombian motorcycle gear.

We checked in about 10 PM (we are now using the correct time). It is cool (read cold 47 degrees at night) and no heat in the rooms. No big deal. The rooms are rustic. We share bath and shower with the absolutely drop dead gorgeous German and Argentinean girls next door. This is a great imposition, but Marty and I are sensitive sharing types, so we are able to cope with this. And there is a coming and going of people of all ages taking the buses around the world and South America. The Havoc House group in Tucson would love it here. I will say that it is definite plus to be able to speak Spanish and German if one is traveling in the hostel circuit. So if you plan to take the trip, take Spanish so you can enjoy it.

Our bikes did not arrive the next morning. We had been warned that might be the case, so we used the day to get legal in Colombia including the mandatory reflective vest with emblazoned plate numbers, reflective plate numbers on our helmets, and insurance. So we got to see motorcycle Mecca in Bogotá. They have an 8 square block area dedicated to motorcycles, gear, tires and just stuff.

So we got to see Bogotá. Last night when we got back to the hostel there were a bunch of people just hanging. Among them was a mother daughter team from Australia also headed south. Great conversation trading war stories. Geography is everything, and Panama is a funnel. The funnel lets out at Colombia, and every one must pass through Bogotá for all practical purposes. So we finally met up with the great mass of gutsy people traveling on the cheap.

My impression of Bogotá is that it is very safe. However we were warned several times that traveling in the “Red Zone” to Cali and the Ecuadorian border by motorcycle is a dangerous proposition as there is still leftist guerrilla activity in the area. We were instructed to check in with the local military and police at each stage and inform them of our route, travel plans, and when stopped to just get fed, pay up, and leave without any thing more said – especially in English.

So as I write this I am waiting for the bikes to arrive and get underway again. Wish us luck. If you do not see a post after this one, the words of the song apply “Send lawyers, guns and money—the %$%&* has hit the fan.”

Fritz

PS I did not get this posted until we arrived in Cali, the most dangerous city in Colombia. So we are safe, but send money anyway, if you wish.