Tagged ‘Motorcycle‘

Chile: the Patagonian Wonders

And the road continues south, and even when two riders enter the landscape, it is a solitude like no other…

pictures speak for themselves…

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Argentina: A waiting game at Perito Moreno Glacier

Deb and I arrived at the guard station as the sun was setting and were not allowed into the park. We had hoped to camp inside the boundaries of Perito Mereno, but the guard kindly said no, and pointed the way to a campsite nearby. We did not realize the magnificence of the view until the sun rose the next morning.

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Argentina: the winds, the chase, and the nearing end.

The motorcyclists who had ridden this road before me all warned about the severe 100 mph cross winds that can pick up tumble weeds, unsuspecting armadillos, and even small motorbikes, then fling them across the barely two lane, treacherous dirt width of the infamous Ruta 40. I had been so cautioned about this experience, that it was not for the faint of heart or riding capabilities, that I wasn’t sure I was going to make it past these intense winds to Ushuaia.

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Chile: Girls gone feral

We were stopped to the side of a compacted dirt road, tools laid out beside the back wheel, the sound of a chain fallen off had halted any further progress in our destination to Pan de Azucar. Three shiny, big, adventure bikes pull up beside Deb’s fading yellow GS650. It was the Chileans we met at the gas station who told us about camping on the beach at the national park. Read more →

Peru, Interrupted. Pt. 1 – (a photo heavy post)

It was a welcomed interruption from the constant travel that incited survival mode. Ride. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. After hurrying through northern Peru, I was happy to be meeting a friend in Arequipa. He rented a motorcycle from Peru Motors, and after sorting out issues with his bike as well as mine – pushing the distance in the heat caused my fan to shake itself to death – we were off to enjoy the country for a two-week diversion. Read more →

Bolivia: going Down and getting Out.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave Bolivia without it taking me down first.

I should have known when the woman who worked at the hostel asked, “Where are you heading?”
“Chile,” we responded with happiness filling in the space around that one word.
“That’s a good road, as long as it’s not raining.”
Really? Why did she have to say that? What is it with women parting gifts of such promonitive words? And why did we decide to visit Bolivia during the rainy season?

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Bolivia: Trying to find the good things… Carnaval & Salar de Uyuni

The dust laden streets were alive with the sounds of a band marching and the shuffles of dancing feet. They passed the hostel several times before bursting through opened steel doors. We and our dismantled bikes were greeted with confetti and streamers around our necks and offerings of beer, some for drinking and plenty for showering. They danced for carnival, a celebration strongly rooted in tradition. I was surprised, yet thankful, for their welcoming nature at the present since we (gringos) were invisible all other times. Read more →

When they say don’t drink the water, they mean it.

When they say don’t drink the water, they mean it.

(Note to reader: this is medically explicit and contains women specific problems. As a recently pregnant friend said to me… I’m going to tell you things your friends didn’t. With that said, its not pretty, but a reality, so use caution.) Read more →

Bolivia: If, When, Where…

The last leg through Peru was a cold, wet, and snowy one with lightning striking all around us. But I wasn’t turning back to Arequipa. And there is no where worth stopping until Chucuito, which took us through some of the nastiest weather on the trip so far.

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Peru: A mad Dash

From the moment I crossed the Ecuadorian border into Peru, I could feel the mad dash was on. I needed to make it to Arequipa by Jan, 16. The roads through lush equadorian highlands, once twisted, now straightended for miles and miles through flat Peruvian desert.

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