Ecuador
ever since the paraguay border, drivers became very agressive with their passing, waiting for you to pull over so they can get past. That was this day and a lot of cussing on my behalf. But it gave me space to do the same, and not worry. Peruvians communicate the entire range of emotions with their lights and horns. A long day of driving, another sleep on the side of the road. A 3 hour piss off run around with the ecuador aduana (customs) where i had to go into town 3 friggen times. Got into Quevedo around 7 although i was expecting to hit quito couldn´t do it anymore. took all my strength and fortitude to shower go down to american kfc and get some food. then sleep. Woke up this morning wondering about where i would get help on the bike. looked up and there was a yamaha store one block away. couldn´t believe it. too good to be true. they dont handle big bikes. So, I headed out of town after some directions, then stopped at a roadside restaurant. saw a guy with a beer and i thought wow nice style! he motioned me over and i sat down, begged the other restaurant to bring my food over to this restaurant. funny guy and pretty drunk. another nice passionate south american lady came over too and sat down and we talked rather i listened about ecuadorian corruption and politics. So, the drunk guy took me down to el coyote the mechanic and asked me for 2 bucks for his help in finding him geez. the guy owns a jewelery store. thats how tough it is down here! right arm is pretty itchy swollen and sore after a bug got in my coat and stung me or bit me twice. felt like an ice cold poker in my arm. anyways nobody warned me about this danger did they? Now off to quito after bolivian fuck up fixed by ecuador i hope with the carbs, my clutch and speedometer cable i hope i hope i hope cause i really like to know how far ive gone. Life as a human. Important to be a little less aware i think. Coping skill necessary. just got back from mechanic. new cable, carbs back to normal, 2 new bolts, and clutch handle tightened. he looks at me pensively and says 15. unbelievable. thats with the new part and everything. Im sad that these countries have no money believe me but damnit it feels good when I don´t have to worry about how im going to pay for it. i gave him 25.
Shwarmey
Rhymes with Huarmey. That's where I'm at!
After I left the internet spot yesterday, the battery of the bike was dead. Dammit. Seems to run itself down somehow in the heat. And it was hot. And there wasnt much of a slope. And I had my full gear on. But I pushed it down the road, and after 3 attempts, started it up.
I asked 4 people, and somehow found my way out of the city, this time a city 'fast approaching 9 million'. In a friggen desert. Lets put a hockey team here and call it Phoenix. Just sandy desert. On the outskirts, hundreds of small, green painted, square huts litter the beaches. Noone was around, just these huts. Undoubtedly for the very poor. All of these south american countries have a huge disparate wealth to poverty.
So i headed north on the Pan Am, until about 83
0. I was looking for a campout, but the sides of the road looked inhospitable; on one side precipice to the ocean, on the other, sand dunes. But I found an access road, packed well, down to a electrical tower. I could hear the buzzing like rain. Lets move a little farther away........... Set up my smelly gear and woke up this morning at 6. No rain. My prayers were answered!
0. I was looking for a campout, but the sides of the road looked inhospitable; on one side precipice to the ocean, on the other, sand dunes. But I found an access road, packed well, down to a electrical tower. I could hear the buzzing like rain. Lets move a little farther away........... Set up my smelly gear and woke up this morning at 6. No rain. My prayers were answered! And much much warmey. Also rhymes with Huarmey.
Lima Beans
That it I´ve had it last straw. Leaving the bike here and flying home tonight. April Fools!
Mad Jason Beyond Bolivia
I was determined to make Puno my first stop in Peru. It was still damn cold and elevation high. I stopped at a desolate gas station and a little smart alec girl of about 10 came out and pumped for me, conveniently without change. So she went away for about 10 minutes and brought back a handful for me. Gas was about 5 bucks a gallon for 84 octane. low quality high price! Nighttime fell, and colder still. Stopped and asked a young guy if the city was Puno I was looking at. Nope. Another 115 km. You can stay here though nice restaurants, hotels. No thanks I have to get to Puno. About 5 minutes later, a sign saying 52 km to Puno. Nice tourism promoter that guy.
Puno just never arrived, and so cold. But when it did, I went down the main street, and stopped at about the 3rd hotel I saw. Knocked on the door and thought noone was home but Irena opened up and I stalled to keep warm. She had storage for bike, and 10 bucks a nite room. Ok done. Kitchy but clean, all the walls and floor were made of stained wood. She asked if I wanted the controller for the Tv and I said ok. When I got up to the room for the 2nd time, I looked around for a tv but couldn´t find one. She was hoisting a tv from another room
! I said don´t worry about it. I had a 2 shirts a fleece coat from Kike and my leather jacket on and started shivering. Laid in bed under 3 blankets and soon felt warmer. Thought I had caught the start of a flu.
! I said don´t worry about it. I had a 2 shirts a fleece coat from Kike and my leather jacket on and started shivering. Laid in bed under 3 blankets and soon felt warmer. Thought I had caught the start of a flu. Slept well, and knew it from how tired I was when I woke up. Despite noone seemingly around, and unable to exit the hotel, a guy finally came around and let me out. On the road at 730 with the time change.
An otherwordly desert country, this part of Peru, with windy roads up and down and through the snow capped mountains in the distance. Saw a strange production facility in the middle of the desert right out of mad max.
Got to the coast, and saw the Pacific for the first time since the Panama Canal in December. Jumped in! Pretty cold but not as cold as Vancouver would have been. Determined to ride more and get closer to Lima. Met a couple Argentinians travelling south with their motos the first travellers I had seen in 7 months of this variety besides Gustavo, but he was on the amazon boat. I mentioned I had lost my map and voila one of them gave me his!
At about 10 pm couldn´t hack anymore, being on the road for 15 hours. Windy roads and crazy big truck and bus drivers. Stopped at a high point near what I thought was a petrochemical plant. Laid my big helmet head on the rocks, and woke up at 215 am. Rode for 2 hours and saw a discouraging sign 695 km to Lima. I thought 500 at the most. Laid down again near a sign at 430 am and woke up as the sign was rising an hour later. Rode until I hit Lima.
Nice city here in the desert, and a nice warm temperature. About 30 degree difference and 4400 metres in sea level in 48 hours. But I feel fine, and ready to continue on to Quito, Ecuador.
Ooohh Peru
When I arrived in Oruro yesterday it was like a ghost town. Everything closes down from 12 until 230 so of course that was when I was there. I was exhausted from maybe 1 hour of sleep in the mountains and thought I could stop the race for a night. Drove around the town looking for a moto mechanic but could not. Went to the best hotel in Oruro for 20 bucks a nite and despite exhaustion had a shower then went back out to start searching. It was a dumpy hotel by any other countries standards but bolivia is a tough place. All around people yelling la paz la paz la paz or cochacochabamba to lure people to their buses. Had some chicken at a chinese restaurant and found some sunscreen face was sun and wind burnt as my lotion fell out 3 days earlier. my face started tingling everytime after I got off the bike. So, I found the mechanic and he musta been 100 years old but he was kind. I waited, maybe an hour then found another passerby who directed me to a nice store that had stp fuel treatment. I put that in the tank, and took it for a ride. Give us the keys the mechanic said I will return I replied. The stp didn´t seem to make a difference so I had a choice. I decided to trust the mechanic, be clear about me leaving the next day early and that 5 til 7 was all we had. The carbs covers weren´t even off at 7 and a younger guy was dusting them off. Return at 8 he said. So I went down the street to the market where there were many traditional bolivian women selling fruit, wearing big bell dresses down to ankles, multiple layers of wool sweaters, usually a bright blanket of pink and green wrapped around the shoulders and the crown, a brown felt bowler sitting high on the head. Lest we forget th ponytails, i believe they grow them from childhood until death, so they get very long. The mechanic finished about 9. he had put a copper filament from electrical wire into the jet of the carbs. said it would help with less oxygen at the altitude. At the highest, I was at 4500 m, and in Oruro about 3800. Whaled down the street to check, and it seemed much better. An amazing sleep with 3 thick grey wool blankets and woke up about 7. got everything together, went down to the store to get tyre repair, gas, and was off at 10. La Paz proved easy because of asking directions twice i got onto the right road in 15 minutes. But then, I went too far, and was heading the way of Copacabana, which mom had said be prepared for very long waits at the border. So I wanted to go the south route Laja etc so about 18 km turnaround and 3 preguntas or questions in spanish. Reached the border in an hour, and was in peru officially by 5 pm. Then, I hit the hail. Couldn´t believe it, and happened so quickly had no time to change helmets and got pelted hard for about an eternity, or 3 minutes. Peering through one eye, and to the side of the windshield, I could see blue sky and salvation. Now, i am heading in the direction of Puro, Arequipa, and Lima. The mechanic destroyed the wire that connects the wheel to the speedometer, odometer and tripometer as he didn´t put enough slack in the wire when he remounted the tank. I was angry with the old fart and would strangle him right now but my acceleration is really good, and a good day of riding. So now its Motorcycle Diaries, estimating mileage and distance as I go, until I can find another one but not before Lima, 1200 km away. Btw I am straight west of La Paz.
Oruro
I feel like i have never been so cold in my life. Brings me back to my first night of travel, 7 months ago driving through Jasper in the rain and cold. i came through Cochabamba, a strange city with brownish red adobe style houses built all around the mountain sides, then super modern expressways downtown. Drove through a market to get clear lensed glasses, found a guy who I followed to the exit out of the city, then filled up with gas. The road in two words dangerous curves. I made it 100 km then had to stop because I was so cold. At an elevation of 4500 metres, i could see my own breath. there i camped, and there it rained again although I chose a puddle only a half inch deep this time. The weather worsened as I went, and saw a mountain side house saying they sold gas. i stayed there 2 hours to warm up and add 5 layers of clothes. the guy who helped me in cochabamba saw my bike and stopped he had left the city at 3 am to go do some business and was on the way back. pics with him and his wife and cousin. Weather improved and in oruro now need to check spark plugs air filter and carbs not much power over 80km per hour. Forget about la paz its higher and colder. going from here to chile fronterra then north from there. need some warm.
A Little Ch Ch Ch Chilly Co Co Comin Thru The Pass
it was a clear night ful of stars when i left the restaurant about 9. Mercedes the cute server with a stud in her lip chatted quickly but she was busy. I told her only one beer but it turned into two just so i could talk to her some more. actually the band was really good as well, witha phenomenal woman singer who performed an Mexiocan song i remember from marivy´s about men being cockroaches. i was on the road again.
the first spot i picked to camp seemed to have good coveratge and a level spot for the bike without getting stuck. there was a path there up into the woods with a fenceñ seemed a farmer´s field. i pulled the bike backwards to get it into place, but iwas hard work so I repositioned. as I did that, I dropped the bike. I dropped it again, and thats when a dog started barking. my position was sdiscovered and i had to find another place. the dog sounded like he was right ther.
half a km down the road there was a sand pile high enough tot cover me from lights both directions. pretty proud of myself. i set everything up, and despite my flat mattreess felt very comfortable. it took a while for me to get to sleep but i did eventually because i woke up a few times in the night holding up the tnet to avoid the heavy rain. i muset have sensed something worng but went back to sleep. at 3 am after it rained all this time i realz
the first spot i picked to camp seemed to have good coveratge and a level spot for the bike without getting stuck. there was a path there up into the woods with a fenceñ seemed a farmer´s field. i pulled the bike backwards to get it into place, but iwas hard work so I repositioned. as I did that, I dropped the bike. I dropped it again, and thats when a dog started barking. my position was sdiscovered and i had to find another place. the dog sounded like he was right ther.
half a km down the road there was a sand pile high enough tot cover me from lights both directions. pretty proud of myself. i set everything up, and despite my flat mattreess felt very comfortable. it took a while for me to get to sleep but i did eventually because i woke up a few times in the night holding up the tnet to avoid the heavy rain. i muset have sensed something worng but went back to sleep. at 3 am after it rained all this time i realz
Trust
The bellboy knocked on my door about 9 pm and said there were some kids drinking in the park across the street, and that I should move my bike. I got dressed and went downstairs to take a look. I asked him where the other choice was and he put this piece of metal on the step at a 45 degree angle and said here. I thought a minute and remembered who i decided to be on this trip and said no thanks, no molestar aqui, or that I wasn´t worried about anyone bothering it.
Drillbit Taylor was on in Spanish, and I went to sleep.
The bike was still there the next morning. The bellboy noticed my front tire was flat i thought it was just because of how it was parked on the edge of the cement. When I moved it back, the front end was very heavy. Another person said it was flat. Ok agreed. Did someone pull a prank and leak it? There was a calling card saying Villamontes taped to the windshield and I thought for sure that´s what happened. I drove away after saying goodbye and a few people wanted pictures. Asked another fellow where some air is, and he motioned for me to follow him. There was a 16 year old on the side of the road with a compressor. I stopped and he was a friendly kid asking all sorts of questions. I gave him 20 bolivianos twice as much as he asked for. Its about 3 bucks.
260 km later, I stop on the road for a break. The tire feels heavy again. Oh no. I remember the tire repair can I bought back in Venezuela and carefully insert it onto the stem. It worked.
I loath going into cities in the evenings but I had to. I got into Santa Cruz about 4 oclock. After several questions around, I found another young guy at a dirty roadside shack, between 4 blocks of roadside shacks. Traditional Bolivian women with two ponytails and long skirts abound. Sexy!
I ask him if he can do it, and he smiles and say yes. How much. Depends. Mas o Menos. 15 bolivianos about 2 bucks. Then the boss comes out a dirty little fellow resembling a bolivian patrick swayze dirt from head to toe, wearing flip flops and a gold tooth. They set to work. The neighbour gets me a coke, although I originally thought he was a halfwit kinda guy. He and his wife ran the shack next to it and were really nice and friendly. Ended up buying the coke he protested I insisted then an empanada banana and cornbread all for 1 buck.
The tire was back on the bike in a little over 20 minutes. This little guy was an artiste with the tire, and he quickly yet meticulously found the leak, and the culprit. Cost? 3 bucks. I doubled it, feeling like Bill Gates in Africa doling out the millions. The culprit? A piece of metal the size of the end of a pencil lead.
On to Cochabamba........
Drillbit Taylor was on in Spanish, and I went to sleep.
The bike was still there the next morning. The bellboy noticed my front tire was flat i thought it was just because of how it was parked on the edge of the cement. When I moved it back, the front end was very heavy. Another person said it was flat. Ok agreed. Did someone pull a prank and leak it? There was a calling card saying Villamontes taped to the windshield and I thought for sure that´s what happened. I drove away after saying goodbye and a few people wanted pictures. Asked another fellow where some air is, and he motioned for me to follow him. There was a 16 year old on the side of the road with a compressor. I stopped and he was a friendly kid asking all sorts of questions. I gave him 20 bolivianos twice as much as he asked for. Its about 3 bucks.
260 km later, I stop on the road for a break. The tire feels heavy again. Oh no. I remember the tire repair can I bought back in Venezuela and carefully insert it onto the stem. It worked.
I loath going into cities in the evenings but I had to. I got into Santa Cruz about 4 oclock. After several questions around, I found another young guy at a dirty roadside shack, between 4 blocks of roadside shacks. Traditional Bolivian women with two ponytails and long skirts abound. Sexy!
I ask him if he can do it, and he smiles and say yes. How much. Depends. Mas o Menos. 15 bolivianos about 2 bucks. Then the boss comes out a dirty little fellow resembling a bolivian patrick swayze dirt from head to toe, wearing flip flops and a gold tooth. They set to work. The neighbour gets me a coke, although I originally thought he was a halfwit kinda guy. He and his wife ran the shack next to it and were really nice and friendly. Ended up buying the coke he protested I insisted then an empanada banana and cornbread all for 1 buck.
The tire was back on the bike in a little over 20 minutes. This little guy was an artiste with the tire, and he quickly yet meticulously found the leak, and the culprit. Cost? 3 bucks. I doubled it, feeling like Bill Gates in Africa doling out the millions. The culprit? A piece of metal the size of the end of a pencil lead.
On to Cochabamba........
Bolivia By God
The first Bolivians I encountered were golden. Edgar, his new wife of 1 year and her two kids own a roadside stand that happens to be right beside immigration. It was about 8 o´clock at night and the immigration officer was fast asleep which was fine because I was so ready to do the same. 60 km of Bolivian road was gravel, yet much better than the sand (spanish arena sp.?)encountered earlier backtracking from northern Paraguay. Certainly the regular problems at customs but after I asked him about his president, he even let me unsuccessfully try to connect to internet. This morning, a bus arrived as expected for Paraguay, and glad I had my bike parked in front of my tent. Edgar, his brother, and uncle, kids and wife eventually all came over and we spoke at length about Bolivia and Canada. All my canadian stickers were ready to be thrown in the garbage from my leaking oil container in the cooler, but I used them up on Edgar´s shack. Then, another 60 km to the next town, but the map was again misleading, as I had to retrack 20 km once I hit the pavement to go the opposite direction. I saw the sun was on the wrong side, so I asked two cowboys which way to Villamontes and sure enough wrong way. The massive logs dropped on the highway were not a deterrent or a signal of something wrong, as I had just gone through the worst roads in 7 months. Luckily stopped to take a picture and noticed my side bag had fallen off and was being dragged behind me. Mattress ruined.
Feel genuinely proud of myself for the first time in the journey, as I feel the past 48 hours have tested me beyond my limits, and I got through it in one piece. Very satisfying feeling and again if the journey must end now I would be severely disappointed but happy in my accomplishment.
Feel genuinely proud of myself for the first time in the journey, as I feel the past 48 hours have tested me beyond my limits, and I got through it in one piece. Very satisfying feeling and again if the journey must end now I would be severely disappointed but happy in my accomplishment.
Unbelievable
The day started off well, saying farewell to the over 20,000 spiders as big as my pinky that had spun 100s of interconnected webs, catching most everything small and able to fly. Quite an amazing unexpected display of nature´s raw power and lack of emotion. Luckily, Jorge, sporting a rifle, had some, and asked before shooting me why I was there. It was an ideal location just 50 metres from the roadside but hidden with a great deal of foliage, and yet a clear spot for the tent.
Plenty of gas stations and I´m wondering if Michael wasn´t a bit overcautious about the state of Paraguay roads. Although the quality degraded severely, it was still rideable pavement with good stretches. Good fortunes continued, as I stopped at a gas station and was told immigration and customs were actually THERE, 250 km before the border. I would´ve had to drive all the way back...... The guy looked kinda american, and the girl was a coin collector so I dumped a handful of coins from all over central and south america on the counter. She was happy and surprised.
150 km later, I was expecting the gas station they promised me but now the pavement is gone, and I´m driving on a pretty shitty dirt road. That shitty dirt road turned into sand, then space for two trucks either direction, then one small car one direction. The tracks were so deep and the edges were so hard I could´ve broken a leg trying to stay upright. The places I fell were graciously open enough to avoid it. 3 times.
Then, a sign saying 34 km to the border. I see colors down the road and I think it´s a person and I hear horses hooves. Good sign. One guy peers behind a tree down the road and I wave and say ola. They take forever to meet me and I speak spanish. My spanish was rough, having speaking portuguese only for 3 months straight. They didn´t understand a word. I didn´t think it was THAT rough.
I felt nervous, and said goodbye. I could only go 30km-hr so it took 5 minutes to go 500 metres or so it felt. Then, more people, more nervousness. Finally a child flags me down with something and I decide to stop. I then realize these are indigena, and they speak only Guarani. I do what any nervous north american does and give him 10000 guarani or about 2.50. I thought he was selling me his mask, but he was apprehensive about giving it to me. I will keep that mask with me to remember how stupid I was.
I put my finger on the push start and it sounds like I have no gas left. My tank is under all my bags. So I get up to start pulling everything apart and now there are over 20 people standing there staring. One guy with a gun and a bag of dead pigeons he killed with a slingshot. He speaks spanish. I ask if I can have a photo. No. When I´m filled up, I go around and shake everyone´s hand, kids and all. And I´m off again.
Another 5 minutes and I´m at the military post, and there´s a metal fence stopping me from going further. One guy speaks some english. There´s some kind of masculine, feminine going on, as one has his shirt off, and another has his 70s style short shorts hiked up around his pelvis. The shirtless guy says speak spanish. I do my little dance and look them all in the eyes answering all their questions. I ask for some water, and they give me a full cold 2 L bottle.
They said there was no gas at the next town, and there was possibly 200 km of sand before the next town after that. Now I´m screwed. With only enough gas to go about 50 km I was seriously stuck. They suggested asking the guarani if they had gas. Ok good idea I´ll go back. Then the shirtless guy says something about camera. Yes I have a camera, but I looked around and couldn´t find it. I thought it was a joke they were playing. Actually I had left it at the guarani village, and a kid had walked all the way to tell me.
So I turned back, and cut through the forest to go directly to their village. At a side road, I looked left, and saw all of them waiting for me on the main road. I went over there, and indeed they were all keeping watch on the bag with camera, laptop and money all intact. Some of the people had cross eyes and I was seriously feeling like I was in the movie Deliverance, Paraguayan style. Had to be some inbreeding there in a small isolated village.
I asked about the gas and he pondered deeply then said yes come to my house. half way there, we´re talking about things and he mentions the tractor. I stop. You know my moto takes gasolina not diesel right? Theres often a gap with my spanish understanding but I made that really clear. He pondered again, assured me not with a lot of confidence, and we continued walking.
What a surreal experience. This wasn´t your national geographic village. Everyone was wearing tshirts and jeans, but the surroundings were amazing. We walked through a tall clover like field over a hill, past the slingshot hunters house whose wife was plucking the small pigeons he had shot, then this man´s house. He must have been the leader because he had a small tank covered with a black plastic bag. He sucked the gas up and started the vacuum into a 2 L pop bottle. Smelled like gasoline. On our walk back he was suggesting I sleep at the militaria because of the arena. I didn´t know what that was but I hoped it wasn´t a jaguar or banditos.
We returned to the 20 people waiting at the bike. It was also a defining moment, being stared at by these strange people. I must have looked strange too tall, kinda white but full of dirt with this kinda shiny strange machine. After the fill up I had to ask them to push the bike back out of the sand to get to the main road.
Then the journey continued. My arms and legs were spent from the 4 hours of sand that day, so I stopped every 10 km. That took 20 minutes. On my 2nd 10 km, I was laying on the ground in pain and exhaustion. I saw some lights come up, and thought I was in no position to meet a malcontent. I would´ve had to give them everything and put my hands in the air. It was actually the one truck I had seen all day on that sandy road returning. I waved hello, and was eager to have him pass me so I could continue. We talked for awhile, and he said there was gas at La Patria, and I thought it was about another 50 km. We said goobye.
By the time I had all my gear on, his taillights got closer and closer to me. I´m not sure about that gas station he said in spanish. I was too tired to listen anymore finally he said siga me (follow me) then he said you go ahead, and when I flash my lights, thats my turn. about 4 km we turned left and Jose Migueletes stopped the truck after the gate, which his wife got out to close for us. What is arena I asked. Sand. Uh huh.
We drive for 10 km and I´m thinking its taking all my gas just to get to his house. His road was better, but I could only go about 50 km-hr. Another 10 and we´re finally there. We get into his house and we talk for a couple hours, with some wine and pimento. I recognized his Spanish accent from Spain. He bought this section of 70,000 hectares 3 years ago and now they are ripping it apart to make cattle fields. Jaguars and cobras are killed on site. Only the biggest trees stay in this pristine but bug filled part of the country. Biggest producer of cattle in the world in Paraguay. All going to Mcdonalds I´m sure. He´s about 45 and his wife is get this 17. common in Paraguay. Love the guy big time but I can´t help wonder about the extent of devastation in these unknown areas, and how much we really consider this when we eat our mcdonalds hamburger.
The next day, after as good a sleep as can be expected, I walk out and see all of Joses workers looking at the bike. Pretty soon the truck came over and they were filling the tire with air. Then, there´s air sounds coming out of the valve. I was floored and crushed. What am I going to do? The nearest yamaha dealership is in assuncion 800 km away. Then I changed my mind and put my faith in the situation.
Jose said bring the bike under the verandah. It was cooler there. The mechanic guy a short fellow with flip flops had us lift the bike up and put it on some shaky blocks. then he´s ripping the tire off. I look at his eyes and their really red. I wanted to pull jose aside and say are you kidding me he´s totally drunk or hung over he can´t do this! but I didn´t. It was tough getting the tire off the rim without proper tools but it happened. Then the leak was discovered to be in the worst place according to Jose. The stem. We took it back to the mechanic, and he looked at it, and went over to his house for the umpteenth time. i learned patience.
He came back with some wire, and wrapped it tightly around the stem. What about the metal digging into the tire I asked. No problema. Tire remounted, and then the bike won´t run unless on full choke. ´
Lets have lunch jose says.
I think about the bike for those 10 minutes and get back after some wine and pimento. Still couldn´t get it. Jose was the idea guy. clean the spark plugs? we couldn´t find a tool to get them out. Air filter? clogged FULL of sand. Washed it out. Still the same. I get frustrated and take it for a drive. I think the tribal gas is bad. I remembered a strange hissing sound when I moved the bike after we filled it there that never happened before. After a tough drive around the settlement, same problem.
Its early afternoon now, and I stop at the mechanics house. He was sleeping. He finds the same valve that Luiz in Mexico adjusted and boom that did it. Shitty gas needs a richer blend I guess. Said goodbye and faced the long road back to the pavement.
Plenty of gas stations and I´m wondering if Michael wasn´t a bit overcautious about the state of Paraguay roads. Although the quality degraded severely, it was still rideable pavement with good stretches. Good fortunes continued, as I stopped at a gas station and was told immigration and customs were actually THERE, 250 km before the border. I would´ve had to drive all the way back...... The guy looked kinda american, and the girl was a coin collector so I dumped a handful of coins from all over central and south america on the counter. She was happy and surprised.
150 km later, I was expecting the gas station they promised me but now the pavement is gone, and I´m driving on a pretty shitty dirt road. That shitty dirt road turned into sand, then space for two trucks either direction, then one small car one direction. The tracks were so deep and the edges were so hard I could´ve broken a leg trying to stay upright. The places I fell were graciously open enough to avoid it. 3 times.
Then, a sign saying 34 km to the border. I see colors down the road and I think it´s a person and I hear horses hooves. Good sign. One guy peers behind a tree down the road and I wave and say ola. They take forever to meet me and I speak spanish. My spanish was rough, having speaking portuguese only for 3 months straight. They didn´t understand a word. I didn´t think it was THAT rough.
I felt nervous, and said goodbye. I could only go 30km-hr so it took 5 minutes to go 500 metres or so it felt. Then, more people, more nervousness. Finally a child flags me down with something and I decide to stop. I then realize these are indigena, and they speak only Guarani. I do what any nervous north american does and give him 10000 guarani or about 2.50. I thought he was selling me his mask, but he was apprehensive about giving it to me. I will keep that mask with me to remember how stupid I was.
I put my finger on the push start and it sounds like I have no gas left. My tank is under all my bags. So I get up to start pulling everything apart and now there are over 20 people standing there staring. One guy with a gun and a bag of dead pigeons he killed with a slingshot. He speaks spanish. I ask if I can have a photo. No. When I´m filled up, I go around and shake everyone´s hand, kids and all. And I´m off again.
Another 5 minutes and I´m at the military post, and there´s a metal fence stopping me from going further. One guy speaks some english. There´s some kind of masculine, feminine going on, as one has his shirt off, and another has his 70s style short shorts hiked up around his pelvis. The shirtless guy says speak spanish. I do my little dance and look them all in the eyes answering all their questions. I ask for some water, and they give me a full cold 2 L bottle.
They said there was no gas at the next town, and there was possibly 200 km of sand before the next town after that. Now I´m screwed. With only enough gas to go about 50 km I was seriously stuck. They suggested asking the guarani if they had gas. Ok good idea I´ll go back. Then the shirtless guy says something about camera. Yes I have a camera, but I looked around and couldn´t find it. I thought it was a joke they were playing. Actually I had left it at the guarani village, and a kid had walked all the way to tell me.
So I turned back, and cut through the forest to go directly to their village. At a side road, I looked left, and saw all of them waiting for me on the main road. I went over there, and indeed they were all keeping watch on the bag with camera, laptop and money all intact. Some of the people had cross eyes and I was seriously feeling like I was in the movie Deliverance, Paraguayan style. Had to be some inbreeding there in a small isolated village.
I asked about the gas and he pondered deeply then said yes come to my house. half way there, we´re talking about things and he mentions the tractor. I stop. You know my moto takes gasolina not diesel right? Theres often a gap with my spanish understanding but I made that really clear. He pondered again, assured me not with a lot of confidence, and we continued walking.
What a surreal experience. This wasn´t your national geographic village. Everyone was wearing tshirts and jeans, but the surroundings were amazing. We walked through a tall clover like field over a hill, past the slingshot hunters house whose wife was plucking the small pigeons he had shot, then this man´s house. He must have been the leader because he had a small tank covered with a black plastic bag. He sucked the gas up and started the vacuum into a 2 L pop bottle. Smelled like gasoline. On our walk back he was suggesting I sleep at the militaria because of the arena. I didn´t know what that was but I hoped it wasn´t a jaguar or banditos.
We returned to the 20 people waiting at the bike. It was also a defining moment, being stared at by these strange people. I must have looked strange too tall, kinda white but full of dirt with this kinda shiny strange machine. After the fill up I had to ask them to push the bike back out of the sand to get to the main road.
Then the journey continued. My arms and legs were spent from the 4 hours of sand that day, so I stopped every 10 km. That took 20 minutes. On my 2nd 10 km, I was laying on the ground in pain and exhaustion. I saw some lights come up, and thought I was in no position to meet a malcontent. I would´ve had to give them everything and put my hands in the air. It was actually the one truck I had seen all day on that sandy road returning. I waved hello, and was eager to have him pass me so I could continue. We talked for awhile, and he said there was gas at La Patria, and I thought it was about another 50 km. We said goobye.
By the time I had all my gear on, his taillights got closer and closer to me. I´m not sure about that gas station he said in spanish. I was too tired to listen anymore finally he said siga me (follow me) then he said you go ahead, and when I flash my lights, thats my turn. about 4 km we turned left and Jose Migueletes stopped the truck after the gate, which his wife got out to close for us. What is arena I asked. Sand. Uh huh.
We drive for 10 km and I´m thinking its taking all my gas just to get to his house. His road was better, but I could only go about 50 km-hr. Another 10 and we´re finally there. We get into his house and we talk for a couple hours, with some wine and pimento. I recognized his Spanish accent from Spain. He bought this section of 70,000 hectares 3 years ago and now they are ripping it apart to make cattle fields. Jaguars and cobras are killed on site. Only the biggest trees stay in this pristine but bug filled part of the country. Biggest producer of cattle in the world in Paraguay. All going to Mcdonalds I´m sure. He´s about 45 and his wife is get this 17. common in Paraguay. Love the guy big time but I can´t help wonder about the extent of devastation in these unknown areas, and how much we really consider this when we eat our mcdonalds hamburger.
The next day, after as good a sleep as can be expected, I walk out and see all of Joses workers looking at the bike. Pretty soon the truck came over and they were filling the tire with air. Then, there´s air sounds coming out of the valve. I was floored and crushed. What am I going to do? The nearest yamaha dealership is in assuncion 800 km away. Then I changed my mind and put my faith in the situation.
Jose said bring the bike under the verandah. It was cooler there. The mechanic guy a short fellow with flip flops had us lift the bike up and put it on some shaky blocks. then he´s ripping the tire off. I look at his eyes and their really red. I wanted to pull jose aside and say are you kidding me he´s totally drunk or hung over he can´t do this! but I didn´t. It was tough getting the tire off the rim without proper tools but it happened. Then the leak was discovered to be in the worst place according to Jose. The stem. We took it back to the mechanic, and he looked at it, and went over to his house for the umpteenth time. i learned patience.
He came back with some wire, and wrapped it tightly around the stem. What about the metal digging into the tire I asked. No problema. Tire remounted, and then the bike won´t run unless on full choke. ´
Lets have lunch jose says.
I think about the bike for those 10 minutes and get back after some wine and pimento. Still couldn´t get it. Jose was the idea guy. clean the spark plugs? we couldn´t find a tool to get them out. Air filter? clogged FULL of sand. Washed it out. Still the same. I get frustrated and take it for a drive. I think the tribal gas is bad. I remembered a strange hissing sound when I moved the bike after we filled it there that never happened before. After a tough drive around the settlement, same problem.
Its early afternoon now, and I stop at the mechanics house. He was sleeping. He finds the same valve that Luiz in Mexico adjusted and boom that did it. Shitty gas needs a richer blend I guess. Said goodbye and faced the long road back to the pavement.
Solitary Man
I let go of any movie purchasing choices tonight, and prepared to watch one with Kike and Tati. It was Solitary Man starring Michael Douglas. It was a surprising mirror into my own life, and the pull between opposing worlds. The director did not hand feed any happy ending, and was able to leave me to make my own decision about the movie, and accordingly about my own life. As I embark for Paraguay, I do feel clearer about making decisions that have nothing to do with anyone else, and separating my ego from me.
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