Two interesting days in Colombia

Posted on December 19, 2011 by greg

I decided to spend another night in Medellin after getting my bike out of the shop, it was late in the day and I wanted to get some rest before putting in a full day of riding. I really wanted to just ride, lots of kilometers, alone and stop only for fuel. I should have stopped for fuel first.

I woke up extra early and quietly left the hostel I was staying at, I wanted to reach the city of Cali in enough time to find decent place to stay (the hostel was not so great). About a half kilometer down the road I ran out of gas! My fuel light was on but I usually have 50km or more when that happens, some fuel must have been drained out while it was being repaired. I pushed the bike into the parking lot of a bakery, the only thing open at 7am on a Sunday morning, and flagged down a taxi. I was soon back on the road with a full tank and it was only 7:45am, lots of time to reach Cali.

The road out of Medellin was a little rough and I was being extra careful as I had not really had the bike above 50km/hr since it left the shop. The bike felt fine and once I crossed the twisty, pothole covered mountain road I was soon on a great road and able to put it to the test. 120km/hr, 140 km/hr twisty roads, all seems well, but there is a bit of a noise coming from the front when I slow down. There is nothing loose that I can see so I will have to keep my eye on it for now.

The sun was out, the road was smooth and my mind took a vacation. I was daydreaming about the future when I hit the pothole that caused the damage, and on this ride I was taking a mental vacation. The future has been on my mind a little more than normal recently; after all I have no job, sold my home and keep moving further and further away from familiar things. But I do have plans, goals and more than ever determination. Today was a day for a mental vacation.

After a couple of hours of riding I was stopped in one of the numerous military check points, they asked for my motorcycle documents. I found this a bit unusual, normally when I am stopped the police or military just want to ask me how fast my bike can go and how much it cost. Happy with the documents I presented I was then asked to open my side boxes and top case for inspection, this was a first. After the inspection was done the lead soldier apologized, explained that it was their job to keep the country safe and then told his men to help me repack my bike. My rain gear was folded in great military style. We all shook hands and waved goodbye. As I pulled away the realization that being approached my men carrying machine guns has become a normal part of my life made me laugh. Back in Toronto I was used to being approached by panhandlers and don’t think I ever saw a machine gun outside of a display case. One reason I am on this adventure is to escape the boring routine my life had become, mission accomplished. Around every corner waits a new adventure.

I arrived in Cali early enough to find a decent place to stay and have a nice meal. It has been one of the longest rides in several weeks and it felt great! As soon as I took my helmet off my brain said “thanks for the time off, notice how we missed all the potholes today”.

I woke up the following morning to a real heavy rain, but I still wanted to ride. Wanting to reach the city of Pasto, about 420km away and close to the border with Ecuador, I got busy and put my rain gear on. As I pulled out of the city, quite proud of myself for getting my rain gear on before getting wet, the rain stopped. This time I kept the rain gear on, Mother Nature has fooled me before with this trick, but not today. Sure enough the rain started up again, but I was going to remain dry.   

I had been advised by a fellow rider, and Colombian not to ride between Papayan and Pasto alone, I should find another vehicle and stay close. I pressed him for details but all I got was “it will just be better that way”. When I say a group of fellow adventure motorcycle riders I thought how nice it would be to ride not only with another vehicle but with like-minded people. How wrong I was. After exchanging a bit of small talk the most unusual thing happened, one of the riders insulted my bike, my rain boot covers and then me. A totally unprovoked insult, the first and only thing I said to the group at this point was that I would not be spending Christmas with my daughter as originally planned. Insulting my motorcycle goes against the bikers code (fellow riders feel free to comment or correct me on this), insulting my rain boot covers is really bizarre.  As for insulting me, well I have worked for some real hard asses over the years and now have the skin of a crocodile, but it was quite unexpected and took me by surprise. Fortunately for me he was a loud mouth, and I learned long ago that I have two ears and one mouth for a reason. I was able to get in a much more pointed and judging by the look on his face, a more impactful insult. Standing there and watching the group pull away I felt a little childish and very confused this was by far the most bizarre encounter that I have had with another person in a long time.

After waiting for the rain to slow down, which it never did, I started heading south once again. My mental vacation was over and my brain was working overtime. I have known for a while that my daughter could not join me for Christmas but for the first time I was feeling down about it.  She was fortunate enough to be able to study one semester in England and another in Australia as well as visit her Aunts and Uncles in Iran, but the logistics of a flight to South America was just not working out. I just now started to realize that it would be a several more months before I see her again. Then I started to have thoughts of the future; What if my dream does not work out? After all it involves another person and I have done all that I can do up to this point. Ok Plan B is ….. and just in case here is Plan C …..  Bang! I hit another pothole, a small one this time. No damage, no flat tire, just my brain saying it needed another day off.

Once over this mountain range the rain stopped, the sun came out and I started to get really hot with my rain gear on. Finally there was a town and I pulled into the gas station to take my rain gear off and also put even more distance between me and the insulting loud mouth. The gas station attendant looked at me a bit odd when I did not get gas, so I just told him I was hot. Next thing I knew he came over with a bottle of cold water and would not accept money for it, then two ladies pulled up to get gas on their scooter and smiled and waved at me. My spirits were lifted. The kindness of strangers and a pretty smile is all it takes sometimes.

Colombia is truly and beautiful place. With the sun out, the green mountains all around me, my brain on vacation and the potholes getting fewer and fewer the ride was very enjoyable and relaxing. But then it got bizarre. I passed through a small village where people were sitting at the side of the road holding their hands out at every passing vehicle begging for money. This was a busy road being travelled by busses, big trucks, cars, motorcycles and these people were often standing right in their path, begging for money. Then I saw something that scared the crap out of me, a rope across the road and two people at each end. Where they going to pull the rope tight and knock me from the bike, I hit the throttle. A little further up the road was another rope and more beggars. The road was a little worse here but I managed to catch up to a bus and tuck in behind him, out of sight of the rope holding beggars but also and unable to see potholes too far in advance. The bus speeds up and I can see people jumping out of the roadway, I am still close enough to the buss that nobody notices me. We come to a construction zone the beggars seem to disappear, the buss pulls over for fuel and I am alone again. Still trying to come to terms with what I just rode through, this was not the Colombia that I had been experiencing for the past several days.

 The road (highway 25) gets real interesting after the construction zone, it offers tunnels through the mountains and always seem to hug the edge of a cliff. The rain has started again and so have the military check points. The military is not stopping anyone but it does slow traffic, at least I am not alone anymore. I can’t help but wonder why the police/military were not back in those villages, maybe the ropes were just for show and there have never been problems, or maybe the police/military are taking a vacation with my brain. Despite the rain and traffic this road was lots of fun to ride, I just wish I could have stopped for photos but the rain was too hard and there was no place to pull over safely.

I reached Pasto and found it to be a much bigger city than I had been told. I started driving around trying to find a hotel. Traffic was heavy and I did not notice any hotels right away so I continued to drive in what felt like circles. I cut off a taxi while trying to turn and got a long loud horn. The taxi raced up beside me and the driver got out of his taxi. I thought he was going to hit me so I got the bike in neutral and put the side stand down. The taxi driver yells out in almost perfect English “Your license plate is from Ontario! Did you ride all the way here from Ontario?”  “Yes I did”, I replied, still waiting for the punch to the head for cutting him off. “My cousin used to live in Ontario. Welcome to Colombia! What do you need my friend?”  I told him I was looking for an affordable hotel with secure parking for the bike and a hot shower. “Follow me, I know a place” And that is exactly where I am now. He refused money for taxi fare and before I could ask his name he was driving away.

It has been an interesting two days.

 

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Heading South

Posted on December 17, 2011 by greg

After spending just over 2 days in the shop my bike is back on the road and better than ever (knock on wood).  The rim was professionally welded and is stronger than before, the spark plugs were changed, oil change was needed and a full inspection was performed, all at a cost of just under $300. Had I been back in Canada the rim would have been replaced, not repaired and that would have cost at least $500. There is a different mindset down here when it comes to making things work, repair rather than replace, look for solutions and try and save money.

I excited to get back on the road again; I have a continent to cross. I want to spend the next several days just riding, each day a new city, further south than I was the day before. Soon I will reach the Equator, hopefully before Christmas.

Links

www.africamotos.com  A great place to get your bike fixed if you are in Colombia

Posted in Colombia | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Respect for Potholes

Posted on December 15, 2011 by greg

After some heavy lifting and lots of grunting the bikes had been offloaded and safely put on shore. Then came the longest custom clearance of the entire trip, it took over 5 hours of waiting, checking VIN numbers and correcting documents until we were finally cleared to leave.  I was still with my South African friends when we met Al; originally from Uruguay Al was riding from Boston to visit family in Uruguay. The six of us explored Cartagena.  Cartagena is alive! There are so many places to see, great nightlife, friendly people and lots to do. A great place to spend a few days and get my land legs back.

After saying good bye to the South Africans, Al and I spent another day in Cartagena before riding south. The road south started off amazing, fairly well maintained, twisty, fast and amazing scenery, I was having a blast. We had over a 500km ride before us and were making great time and figured we would make it to Medellin for dinner that was, until the monster pothole.

“look where you want to go” is one of the major rules for motorcycle riding, so why did I look right at a pothole? I hit the pothole while doing about 120km/hr in a corner. There was a problem right away; the sound of the impact is still ringing in my ears. My bike began to wobble, into the oncoming traffic lane; fortunately there was no oncoming traffic. The bike felt like it was about to go down and I was going to crash into the pavement. I don’t remember exactly what I did but I somehow managed to get the bike to the narrow shoulder and stopped safely. The front tire was flat and upon closer inspection I could see that the front rim was cracked and the rear rim was also damaged. Pacing up and down the road to calm my nerves and wait for Al seemed like the only thing I could do.

Al went to the next town and came back with a mechanic rather quickly. The young 17 year old got to work right away by removing the front tire. Together the mechanic and I went to another town to find a welder to fix the tire. I got on the back of his little 135cc and we raced toward the city, it had to be one of the scariest rides I have ever taken. We weaved around potholes and big trucks like they were of no consequence. I was holding the tire and trying to stay on the bike, no easy task. To make matters worse I must have run over some fresh dog shit and it was still on the tire, the smell was floating under my helmet, and I was too scared to move.  Fortunately this town had and abundance of welders, unfortunately not everyone can weld aluminum rims. We went from shop to shop until we finally found someone who could weld it.  Nobody working there was over 25 years old, but the welder seemed to know what he was doing and got to work right away. The other guys at the shop took it upon themselves to find me a Colombian girlfriend, they figured I needed one to be my GPS, and after only 10 minutes they came back with a young 19 year old. She was quite attractive and seemed interested in meeting a Canadian biker; much to my surprise my grey hair did not scare her away. I just wanted my tire fixed and was worried about Al waiting at the side of the road, it was getting late in the day and he was alone in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately for Al there are lots of women in Colombia and I am old enough to know that there will be other opportunities.

With the rim welded we raced back to the mechanics shop where he put a tube in my tubeless tire, it was soon ready to go back on the bike. We found Al, waiting calmly at the roadside, it felt like hours had passed but Al was still in high sprints. The mechanic got to work putting the bike back together, and then the rain started. It rained so hard that we could not see, but he kept working while I held the flashlight. I got my raingear on, a little late as usual and was of course, wet. The mechanic had no rain gear and was soaked, but finished just after it got dark; I paid him $35 and was on the road again. He was ecstatic to get $35 and when we drove by his shop a few minutes later all I could hear where cheer and clapping.

It was going to be 68km until the next hotel so Al and I started off in pouring rain in almost total darkness. With only our headlight and spotlights to illuminate the roadway the ride was difficult. The rain made for poor visibility and soon the fog rolled in. What I had not realized was that a mountain range was before us. We started to climb the mountains, with no street lights to guide us I had to look to both sides of the bike to see the lines in the road and make sure I did not go into the mountain side or over a cliff. We stared to hit lots of truck traffic, helping light the way but the trucks were also having difficulty. We passed several disabled trucks, many of them without flares to warn us, I almost crashed into the back of one, turning at the very last minute. Because of the heavy rains the road was also flooded from mountain run off, making the road slippery and even more dangerous.  We were only doing between 10 and 20km/hr because of the conditions.

At one point I lost Al, who was leading, and I started to get very worried. Did he go off the road and I missed him? Was he hurt? I was alone in the middle of an unlit highway, unable to see well, with a freshly repaired front tire and now my front brakes were making an awful sound. Not only were the front brakes making a funny sound but they were also not gripping well. There was no place to pull over, the only choice I had was to go forward in search of the town and hopefully I would find Al there holding a cold beer. After what felt like a lifetime I saw the taillight of a motorcycle, it was Al pulled over at a restaurant. Thankfully Spanish is Al’s first language and we got directions to a hotel, only 5 minutes away. It took 20 minutes but we arrived, safe and in one piece, there was never any sign of a town. Many times I questioned if I would make it, I think I had a Guardian Angel that night. This was by far the scariest ride of my entre adventure.

Posted in Colombia | Tagged , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Come Sail Away

Posted on December 5, 2011 by greg

After a few days of sitting around Panama City I am starting to go a little stir crazy, waiting for e-mail confirmations on shipping my bike to Colombia. Panama and Colombia are not connected by road, there is an area called “The Darien Gap” which is nothing but impassable solid jungle. Hence the need to either fly or sail me and my bike to Colombia.

I did go and visit the old part of town and some of the historical buildings which was very interesting and helped pass the time. But overall Panama City has little appeal to me so I am leaving for the coast tomorrow, without a confirmation of a shipping date. I will sail on the 7th, 8th, 10th on one boat or if that fails I booked a second boat for the 16th. All of this shipping stuff seems a little dodgy to me so I double booked myself just to be on the safe side. Other bikers have used this option with great success but I think some of these ship captains might just be a bunch shady characters who wish they had of been born pirates. I am growing a beard for the occasion.  

The sailing option sounded like the best adventure; snorkeling, wildlife viewing on uninhabited islands, beach parties and BBQ’s, and best of all it was cheaper than flying. Hopefully there is a chance to search for buried treasure; I need to find a way to finance my travels.

I don’t think I will get wifi on my sailing adventure, see you in South America.

Posted in Panama | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Why I Ride

Posted on December 4, 2011 by greg

My helmet locks into place and the familiar click rings momentarily in my ear. The bike is loaded kickstand is up and I accelerate out of the parking lot. There is no destination in mind today, I will just ride.

I received an e-mail the other day entitled “Why I ride” and it has me thinking about why I ride and more particularly will I ever stop riding. I merge into traffic easily; traffic is light at this time of the day. So why do I ride? The excitement of a fast machine, the thrill of danger, being alone in my helmet, yes but there is more, more than the obvious. A car pulls out in front of me without warning; I need to focus on riding and not thinking about the “why” right now.

I am on the highway now, easier to focus on answering the question “why I ride?” when the traffic flows more smoothly. There are mountains off in the distance, covered in green; I hope the road passes closer to them. Everything is green, there seems to be no other colour as far as I can see. The jungle reaches right to the edge of the road. Palm leaves blow onto the roadway in front of me. I remember that only a few months ago it was the desert reaching the edge of the road. Sand and dust were blowing then.

The highway begins to veer away from the mountains. I take the next right. The road is gravel and is heading closer to the green mountains. A dust cloud appears in my mirror. I am alone out here; the solitude is good for my soul. Solitude brings a calmness and peace that I can’t get when surrounded by others. Clarity comes when the helmet is on. I pass through a small village. An old man walks alone with a heavy limp; he has had a stroke I think. I admire his independence but am also concerned for his safety, where is his family, I wonder if his wife is still alive.  One day I will be old and won’t be able to ride, I hope that day does not come too soon. What will I be like at his age and will I be alone? One day I will die, but first I will ride.

The road twists up the mountain. It is not a well maintained road and my attention shifts to the technical aspects of the ride; look ahead, shift my weight, gear down, gear up and always look where you want to go. The road begins to improve as I descend down the mountain. I hear the river before I can see it, clear water crashes against the rocks around the next corner. I stop for a photo and to pee.

I am back on the main highway now, searching for fuel.  The gas station attendant is only a little younger than me; he appears to have troubles on his mind. He admires my bike and asks how much it costs. Most likely he will never own a bike like mine.  I invite him to sit on my bike, maybe it will brighten his day. He declines but smiles. His smile reveals a few missing teeth, it is a genuine smile.

A short distance down the highway a vulture picks at a dead dog. When the world ends only cockroaches and vultures will survive. They will feed off each other when nothing else is left. I am hungry but the smell form rotting flesh from the dead dog pushed my appetite aside. I approach a town and for the first time all day stop at a traffic light. A young woman crosses the street; she is very beautiful and carries herself with a kind of humble pride.  A young man follows and makes some comments that upset her. If only I could have lost romances to live over again. I wonder how my life would be different had I tried a little harder or maybe not so hard. I have left so much unsaid or have said too much. My appetite is back and there is a place to eat up ahead.

A woman is breast feeding her baby on a park bench. I have never changed a diaper, not because I avoid responsibility but because I never had the opportunity. I have a “step-daughter”, a term I hate. Why do people make a big deal of the term “flesh and blood”? She is my daughter; I raised her since she was eight years old. She is big now and has her own life. I miss her every day. My heart aches if I think about it too much; I try to think about something else. I will call her tonight.

The sun begins to set and I need to find a place to sleep for the night. I sleep in a different place almost every night, the life of a solo rider. Up ahead in the distance is another town, they have a hotel with an available room. It’s nothing fancy but the price is right and I am tired. I try and call my daughter but she is not home. No surprise, I was rarely home at her age. My body and mind feel relaxed, like some perfect Zen like state, not that I really know what that means but I am relaxed anyway. My head touches the pillow and I am reminded of the question at the start of the day “why I ride?”  I ride because it is good for my soul; it gives me peace, makes me feel alive. I will ride again tomorrow.

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Posted in Canada, Panama | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

Crossing into Panama

Posted on November 29, 2011 by greg

 

a donde vas amigo

a donde vas amigo

 

 I arrived at the border early today, not knowing what to expect but expecting long delays. The usual “helpers” came out of nowhere all looking to make a few dollars by making things seem more difficult than they really are. Exiting Costa Rica was easy enough, a stamp in the passport, stamp the motorcycle papers, check the VIN number, and “hasta legueo”.  Entering Panama was also straight forward, stamp passport, buy insurance, hand in motorcycle paperwork , wait, wait some more sign a paper and I was finished, or so I thought. I approached the final border check point and was told that I needed another signature for the motorcycle inspection.

Finding the vehicle inspection guy was easy enough; he was carrying a clipboard and was inspecting a Costa Rican car. I stood by the car, waiting my turn when I noticed that nobody seemed happy. The owners of the Costa Rican car were a younger couple with a child of about 5 years old, they seemed upset. The inspection officer started searching the car and talking really fast in Spanish, so I did not understand much. His “talking” became very gruff as his inspection continued; all the time the couple were watching him nervously as he went through the trunk and even the suitcases. They seemed like quite an ordinary couple, early 30’s, well dressed, normal car and their child was well behaved. I have no idea what the problem was.  I thought maybe the inspector was looking for a bribe so I went to my bike and stuck $20 in the top case, visible but not too obvious. Eventually the couple was allowed to enter Panama, the woman looked like she might cry.

The inspector approached me, not making eye contact and grabbed my form. He spoke two words “pais” (country) and “Moto?” I answered him; he signed the paper, wrote something on his clipboard and walked away, never looking at me or my motorcycle. I was free to enter Panama. As I was heading along the Pan America highway and could not help but think about the differences in how the inspector treated the Costa Rican family compared to how he treated me. I have no idea why but the family was given a very hard time and my process took less than one minute. I often hear from people that I have it easier because I am Canadian and a male, I don’t know if it’s true or not, nobody ever tells you why they are nicer to you than they were to someone else.

I followed the Pan American highway and was happy to see a speed limit sign of more than 80km, what I had been having in Costa Rica. I could do 100km/hr here, but with all the cops a the roadside I had to be very careful. I was eventually stopped and figured I was getting a big ticket as I had not been as careful as I should have. Turns out the cops just wanted to have a look at my bike. They asked the usual questions “How fast will it go?”, “How much does it cost?” “How long have you been travelling?” “Where are you going?”, I am getting good at answering these questions in Spanish.

The rain held off so I just kept riding. There did not seem to be a lot of hotels along the highway so at 3pm I called it a day when I saw a town with several hotels and a Chinese restaurant. I will eat Panama style food tomorrow.

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Posted in Panama | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

Departing from my Semi-Domesticated Life

Posted on November 28, 2011 by greg

 

After leading a semi-domesticated life in Costa Rica, I am heading south again continuing my journey. Semi-domestication was unlike any other time in my journey. In the evening I would help with laundry and dishes or often just relax watching TV. During the day I would ride, explore Costa Rica and enjoy the adventure of travel, as I have been doing, but would return “home” each night. It was like having the best of both worlds.

My adventure world continued, through the twisty roads of Costa Rica leading to beautiful cities, scenic mountains, past coffee farms and to the beaches.  People here are warm, friendly and helpful, the food is fantastic, very fresh and there is a calmness here that was unlike other countries that I have passed through during my adventure. I interacted easily with people here with was as much of an adventure as the twisty mountain roads. One corner was so sharp that I felt the foot peg scrape the pavement, my adrenaline raced as I pulled the bike upright out of the corner.

Semi-domestication was an interesting experience as well. For the first time since I left Canada I had a key to a home and could come and go as I pleased for more than a few days. Home cooked meals are very easy to get used to. I used to hate shopping of any kind, but made at least three trips to Wal-Mart and shopped around for fresh apples and other groceries, all by motorcycle of course. There was no housekeeping staff to make my bed each day.

Departure time

As the saying goes “all good things must end” and my time in Costa Rica was no different. I left San Jose early with the plan of crossing into Panama in the early afternoon. I took the left at Wal-Mart just like Google earth said I should, but then everything just went to hell. I did not recognize anything, none of the signs made any sense and the traffic was getting heavy. I followed the road looking for a sign that would point me in the right direction and then, somehow I was back at Wal-Mart. How did this happen, I drove in a complete circle and don’t remember making a turn. No problem, it’s still early so let’s try again. Ok turn left at Wal-Mart, oh there’s the problem, I missed a turn, got it this time. I had a lot on my mind this morning and was not paying attention and sometimes my bike seems to have a mind of its own. I was driving along for another 30 minutes, mind wandering, when I looked up and saw Wal-Mart. I am right back where I started, only 4km from where I was living for the past 2 weeks. I guess my bike did not want to leave any more than I did.  

I eventually, after almost an hour and a half got on the right road and was heading for Panama, still with enough time to cross. I followed a sign that said “San Isidro”, the road I needed. After 16 kilometers appeared a giant pile of dirt in the road, 2 meters high in the center. A pile of dirt was blocking a major highway and nobody was around to provide information. Some other drivers who were there scratching their heads and looking at the dirt, confirmed that this was highway 2 and the way to Panama. I drove over the dirt pile. The dirt was more like mud and it was flying everywhere, I don’t know how I managed to not fall. After one kilometer the reason for the dirt pile was clear, a giant sink hole, the road was washed out and was not passable.  Back over the dirt pile, people were looking at me like I was a moron. (When will I learn?) Now I had to find another way so I asked for directions back at a gas station. “Take the very twisty roads, over the mountains, cross a river, go down the mountain, and then you turn right”. I just hoped the river has a bridge.

After 34 kilometers of twisty back roads I was just 12 kilometers past the sink hole, but at least on the right road now. Riding along enjoying the beautiful scenery, alone with just my thoughts inside my helmet; life is good. Riding like this is good for my mind, I get answers to questions I never knew I had and calmness comes over me. Until the dark clouds appeared. The rain start suddenly and I am getting wet, it is the middle of nowhere but off in the distance I see a bus stop. I drive over the sidewalk and pull under the bus shelter to put on my rain gear. A young want in the bus shelter looks at the stickers on my bike and starts a conversation:

Cual es su pais? (Where are you from or more specifically “What is your country”)

Soy Canadanise (I am Canadian)

Tu moto? (your motorcycle)

Si.

Canada, Aqui de la moto (Canada to here by motorcycle)

Si

Tu loco?  (you’re crazy)

Si, un poco loco. (Yes a little crazy)

By now the road is flooded but I start of again anyway.  The rain is so hard that I can hardly see and the sound of the huge drops hitting my helmet become deafening. There is no place to pull over. Some construction up ahead gives me a rest and time to think. I decided I would stop at the next place I could and wait out the rain. There are not many people on the road now and this is usually not a good sign.

I take an easy corner when suddenly the bike begins to hydroplane. My bike is pointed in one direction but is going another. It is going off the edge of the road, heading for a cliff and below it was nothing but jungle. I looked down at my speed, 75km/hr, I was going to die. Those palm reading Chinese fortune tellers were wrong, I was not going to live to be 100 years old; I was going to die in the next few seconds. The edge of the road moves closer and thousands of thoughts go through my mind; “I still have not filled in the emergency contact info on my passport”, “my friends address is in the storage box, but this bike is too big for her”, “I wonder if I can get a refund form the fortune tellers”, “I have not had peanut butter in along time”.  Just inches from the edge my back tire catches on something and the bike is heading where it should be, it stays on the road. I am saved, and the rain just stops as quickly as it started.

The rain stopped long enough for me to get some photos of the huge river that the highway often follows. Then it came down even harder than before. I could not see a thing and the sky grew dark. My spot lights lit the way very well, but I was getting nervous. I could feel the water splashing off my boots and hitting my side boxes.  When I reached the city of Neily, the rain stopped, I found a hotel and got the last room. Panama can wait until tomorrow.

Confession – During my Semi-domestication I did not actually “do” any laundry. It was agreed that I would help best by not interfering. I left San Jose smelling much better than I did when I arrived.  However I did wash dishes.

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Posted in Costa Rica | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Four months of Solo travel

Posted on November 24, 2011 by greg

Today makes four months of solo travel; four months, eight countries and 33,927 kilometers (this excludes the two week trip I did out to the most eastern point in North America with my Harley riding friend David, another 8,535 kilometers).

I was going to celebrate today with fellow riders here in Costa Rica by doing a ride down to the coast and back, but instead I am listening to the heavy rain beating against my gas tank, watching the wind move the tree outside the window and reflecting on the highs and lows of the past four months.

The low point is easy, looking at my bike, practically upside down, damaged and realizing that I had just been violently robbed. It took a while for me to realize what had happened back in Guatemala and then I was caught up in police reports, replacing things and healing. Getting over the loss of “things” was easy; shaking the fear was more difficult. Just yesterday I was startled by some roadside activity that turned out to be nothing more than kids playing.

The high point is much harder to choose because there have been so many. I think of the friendships that I have made, seeing the sky closing in as I approached Prudhoe Bay, people telling me I was an “inspiration” to them, the improvement in my skills as a motorcyclist, successfully crossing into eight countries, and the list goes on. I guess the high point is the adventure itself.

People always ask me why I chose to take this trip alone and I always give the same answer “I have no crazy friends”. The truth is I really wanted to be alone, alone to travel as I wanted, stop when I want to stop, go when I want to go and to choose my own destination and path to get there. Locking down my helmet and being alone with only the open road and my own thoughts has been good for the soul. After only four months I no longer see the world the same way. The “North American dream” is a fallacy; there were no smiling faces on my subway ride to work, now I see smiling faces every day, things don’t make you happy but experiences will, a “challenge” is not more work, a challenge is overcoming personal obstacles and stepping outside your comfort zone, money is necessary but not important. Solo travel has given me time to reflect on these things that I might not have done had I been travelling with someone else.

Reflecting on it now, taking this trip in “midlife” was, for me, the best time. I am young enough to meet the physical challenges that this lifestyle brings, moving most days, picking up a dropped bike, changing sleep patterns, varying time zones and long travel days. I am also old enough to avoid doing really stupid things. I know if I had taken this trip in my 20’s that I would have crashed hard long ago, never of met such interesting people and would have missed the best this trip has offered. Problems get easier to resolve as you get older, life experience makes for less stress and a clear head. Somehow I know that things will somehow work out for the best. The only thing that does not seem to get easier in midlife is matters of the heart, something I was not expecting to be dealing with. Then again, nothing is how I expected it would be – its better.

The rain has stopped and the sun is out, I think I will take that ride now.

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Where the streets have no name

Posted on November 23, 2011 by greg

I think that when world famous rock band U2 wrote “Where the Streets Have No Name” they were in Costa Rica. I used Google Earth today to find my way to Irazu Volcano. The directions seemed easy enough; left out of the driveway, right, another left, left on “Calle 4” to highway 209, and so on; there were only 4 major roads I had to take. Once out of the driveway I noticed for the first time since I have been in Costa Rica that none of the streets had signs. How was I going to find what I was looking for when the streets have no names? I knew I had gone too far when I arrived at Wal-Mart, Wal-Mart has been a major landmark for me while I am staying in San Jose. I turned around, back the way I came and down the first street that looked like it would lead somewhere. It must have been a lucky guess because I was soon at the roundabout that I recognized from Google Earth. I continued along until I came to a “Y” in the road that was not on Google, again no signs. Now what? Do I do the unmanly thing and ask for directions? I went right, not sure why, just felt like the direction I should go. I started to think I had gone the wrong way and started to look for someone to ask directions from, and then I saw a sign “Irazu Volcano 34km”. I was on the right path.

Riding in Costa Rica is like a treasure hunt. It is not until you think you are on the wrong road and are about to ask for directions that a sign will appear, never any sooner.

I finally made it to Irazu only to have it totally clouded in, I couldn’t see a thing. Fortunately a White Faced Coati provided ample entertainment trying to get food from the tourists, making my $10 admission worth the visit.  Wanting to see a Volcano in Costa Rica I made my way to Turrialha Volcano, only a short distance away. A sign for Turrialha said “23km” and pointed down the only other road in the area, 5km later; straight down the road I was supposed to go another sign appeared saying “34km”. What the ……? How can I travel 5km in a straight line and be 11km in the wrong direction? I continued along I came to another “Y” in the road and again no sign. This time I went left.

Left turned out to be a great road, twisty, narrow and very few other vehicles. The road started to climb, offered some fun hairpin turns, until the pavement just ended and only potholes, dense forest and hard mud was ahead of me, and of course no signs of any kind. I continued to follow the dirt road up the mountain until the clouds became so thick I could not see in front of me. It was obvious I was not going to see a volcano today and was most likely on the wrong road. I had not seen another person since the “Y” and decided to go back the way I came. No sooner had the bike been turned around that the rain started. The hard mud turned soft and there were a few times that I though the bike was going down, but I made it out keeping the bike upright.

Back at the “Y” in the road, with the rain pouring down, bike covered in mud, I remembered the very delicious leftover chicken and rice waiting for me back in San Jose. I was hungry; the volcano will still be there tomorrow.

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Every day is an adventure

Posted on November 21, 2011 by greg

I continue to be amazed at how even the most mundane tasks can turn into an adventure. Shopping for swimming shorts in El Salvador, getting groceries in Nicaragua or doing laundry in Costa Rica have been as much of an adventure as the riding.

Going to the dentist turned out to be an unexpected adventure. I started to get a rather painful toothache when I was leaving Nicaragua and by the time I got to Costa Rica I needed to see and dentist, it was also time for a cleaning anyway. My hygienist couldn’t understand why someone would ride a motorcycle from Canada to Costa Rica, she assumed that I was in the “protection des testigo” (witness protection program). Her wild theories continued until my cavity was filled, the pain was gone and my teeth were clean.  Two hours of amusement and pain relief for only $52.

Manual Antonio National Park in Costa Rica was another adventure. The roads in Costa Rica are slow compared to the rest of Central America; 80km/hr seems to be the high limit on the majority major highways and can drop quickly and in unexpected places. They are also very well maintained making for fast riding if you’re brave enough to risk a $300 USD ticket.  We made it to the National Park without getting a ticket and checked into a cabin surrounded by jungle. The view from the deck was of thick trees, huge leaves and not far off in the distance was the Pacific Ocean. It wasn’t long before a white faced monkey was spotted only a few meters from our balcony. The following morning we did a tour of Manual Antonio National Park. Even without a guide we were able to spot a lot of interesting wildlife, iguanas, another white faced monkey and 2 sloths high in the trees. I have never seen a sloth before except in the zoo, they move a little faster in the wild.

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