I'm downloading photos and videos to clear the memory on all the cameras as well as getting them all charged up again. At the end of this blog I'll try to post some of the more interesting stuff.
While that is happening I'm going to type in stream of consciousness. We've seen and done a lot since we got down here. We learned a few lessons and met so many nice helpful people.
First example, and the ones that rise above all other, are Carlos Grez and his family. Out of nowhere a classmate from USNA calls him up and asks him to receive a shipment of a couple of bikes. So far, to help us he has done more than the following: Pulled strings at Chilean Customs, put up with two stinky gringos in his house for a week, made countless phone calls to free our bikes, arranged hotels, apologized for us when we didn't make it to those hotels, donated many hours to getting and keeping us moving in the right direction. I could go on but the list would start to be unbelievable. Let me just say that Carlos went well above and beyond the call for for a guy and his buddy who he barely knew.
I was concerned that my bike was garish and would attract negative attention. It is garish. It, and Jim's bike, attract a great deal of positive attention. Just before riding the bikes into the hotel lobby (nice little two step up move through a door) I spent about 5 min letting people take photos of the bikes and taking pics of them with the bikes.
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| The bikes wait in the shade after fueling so we can eat some ice cream. |
People don't think we are aweful Americans. They think we are German! Turns out most of the motorcycle tourists are German so if people meet a grubby dude on a motorcycle they figure he is most likely German.
Our first adventure, which felt like a big deal at the time, was a trip to downtown Santiago. Helga gave us a careful briefing on safety, some directions, and dropped us off at the subway. We managed to get to the station we wanted downtown after much too long trying to explain what tickets we wanted. Once in the right station (with a transfer) we couldn't find the exit. We found an exit elevator for disabled people, but didn't feel like we could take it. While standing there looking like dopes a nice lady approached and asked if we needed help. YES! I was already so flustered I couldn't think of "salida." Eventually she figured out what we were looking for. She then gave us almost exactly the same safety lecture that Helga gave us with a funny addition. She said anyone who approached us and appeared to be trying to help us probably wanted to rob us. "Oh, except me!" She walked us to the exit.
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| A trumpet player walking his lion in Santiago, Chile. |
Speaking Spanish. My Spanish is terrible but getting better very rapidly. I was able to go to an electronic store by myself today and explain in Spanish (not good Spanish but I got the ball over the net) that I needed a plug converter. Victory. Back to the room. Hmm, where is cord I brought to help show them what I needed? D'oh! probably left it on the counter. So I went back, now closed for siesta but they let me in. I explained I lost my plug and wanted to look for it. They invited me in and sure enough it was next to the register.
Smiling and a happy demeanor will get you a long way. The best substitute for knowing the language is trying and being friendly about it. Many people we have met have wanted to work on their English, including and English teacher who's never been to an English speaking country (her accent was very good).
Vincente and his wife are very nice people who live near Jachal, Argentina. After realizing that we couldn't get to Chile the way were were going and back tracking for several hours, we were very careful at every intersection. We stopped at one to ponder which way to go. Jim saw a couple pointing at us and decided to go ask them. Turns out that Vincente rides motorcycle. They were very hospitable and friendly, offering us drinks on a hot day. We sat and visited for some time. The entire conversation was in Spanish. They have two married daughters. They have grandchildren, one of whom is very small. They gave advice on where to stay (we hosed that up) and which way to go. You can see a photo of them on the last posting.
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| This road is just a few minutes from Vincente's house. |
In Jachal we ended up wandering around looking for a hotel. We pulled over to ponder our options. A van parked in front of us and started to back up. The driver gets out and asks in English if we need help. Yes! We need a hotel. He starts to give us directions but we all get frustrated and he smiles and says follow me. A few blocks away he stops and says there is a hotel around the corner. I walk over to see if we can get a room while Jim stays with the bikes which are gathering crowds of children. The guy also waits! We were able to get a room with secure parking. We thanked the van guy and all was well.
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| Our dinner cooking in Jachal, Argentina. Same room as the tables. |
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| While we waited for the meat too cook! There was also entertainment, the roof broke from rare rain and the restaurant got a new "water feature." A large bucket and it was quickly solved. |
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| This building was being renovated, in Jachal |
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| A doorway in Jachal. |
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| NOT eating this. |
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| In Jachal. |
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| Our room key in Jachal |
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| Our cook and his son in Jachal. |
The bikes were an excellent choice for this trip. They work fine on asphalt and really can't be beat on bad asphalt. On dirt, they are big but manageable. We rode today with the bags off to go see the Dakar Rally. This reminds me of two things I'll address 1) In deserts power lines have service roads. Find a power line and you've probably found at least a track a dirt bike can use. 2) Police in Chile and Argentina are very helpful.
We were told by Carlos that if you have any trouble don't hesitate to approach the police, who wear green uniforms, they will help. That is true in Chile and in Argentina. I'd say the same for Customs (Aduana) Agents as well. I probably won't be able to remember all the times police helps
ed us, but here are a couple. In Argentina at roadblock/check station we were accustomed to being waved right through. It was late and we were trying to get to San Juan from Uspallata. It was dark, we were tired, we had just enough gas to get to San Juan. Jim decided to stop and ask where the nearest hotel was. The bad answer was San Juan, but they offered to let us camp behind the checkpoint. We decided to roll to San Juan, but not without first getting pics of the officers and their F650, and Jim and I on the F650. =D
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| At the checkpoint between Mendoza and San Juan, Argentina. |
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| Feels tiny after spending all day on a 990 Adventure. |
Jim was feeling really bad when we started out in Jachal, Argentina. It was a nice morning following a gully washer storm. The same storm that caused the Rally to cancel a stage. The tiny, poorly maintained roads took a beating. I only have one photo of the first twisty section out of Jachal because rocks were still coming down from all the unusual water. I wasn't about to stop and mess with cameras or video equipment with all the fresh rockfall on the road. After we got out of that section we stopped and an oncoming car asked if the road was even passable. Yes, reduced to one lane by rocks in many places, but yes. Well, back to the story about Jim... after we got over the pass and we were waiting in the very slow, thorough but friendly, customs line, Jim's condition continued to deteriorate. A customs agent was walking past an noticed that he looked under the weather. I encouraged him to explain how he felt and to go with the agent to see a medic. Super service. Jim got an exam and a shot, of we don't know what, that was supposed to help with his runs, as well as cold water and to sit in a cool room. The line was out in the hot Chilean sun.
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| Sunning in the Customs queue, lots of people to visit with. You can see Jim is almost dead. |
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| Your cameraman on Paso Agua Negra. |
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| Robby Gordon and Johnny Cambell. |
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| A truck at CP1. |
Our diets: Gerry: a mix of foods. No salad but any canned or pickled veggies I can get, ice cream at gas stops, steak, blood sausage, chorizo, chicken, olives, bread. ham, cheese, bread. Jim: ice cream and steak. It is not quite that bad, but I am definitely more varied, yet he is ill. I'd like to send a hearty thank you to my robust gut fauna.
We took a salt road that I figured would cut to the course away from the designated spectator spot. We ran into a road block manned by two Chilean Police. They told me the spectator area was 5km to the right. Jim had fallen behind to re-secure a pack so I decided to play friendly with the cops, which is easy because they are naturally friendly. When Jim caught up they said if we went left 1 km then we could follow the power line which would take us to the race course! Thanks! Great real dirt riding on the 990s. We were following a sketchy dirt track through the Atacama desert for a few kilometers.
When we got to the course we had just missed the last bikes but no cars or trucks had passed. Hang in there, this all gets back to key off. In the distance we could see a motorcycle. We figured that'd be a good guy to watch with, so we rode over there. At the bike we found Sebastian, Max and Luis three guys from Santiago who spoke excellent English. After the first few cars they were going to CP1 and we were going to tag along. Off we go! click-click-click of a bouncing relay. My bike would not start. Key left on. The truck with Luis and Max had left. Sebastian waited for us. We were traveling light, without our full tool kit, and didn't have our jumper cables. McGyver time! I cut a section out of the power cord for my computer and we quickly had my bike jump started. (We had tried to push start it, but not enough traction to start that big fuel injected beast.) Max and Luis got back just as we were ready to roll and we all went and got dusty at CP1. They took off for Copiapo and we went back to Vallenar for some rest.
Passing. I don't care who says soccer is the great national sport of Chile. They are wrong. It is passing. Passing on curves, passing on the shoulder. Passing in the face of oncoming cars. Expecting the vehicle being passed to take the shoulder. It is truly amazing. I saw one botched pass that scared the s*** out of me. The guy in front of pulled out to pass a bus. I thought WTF there is a pickup coming. I don't think he saw it, major brain fart. The oncoming pickup went to his shoulder, the bus went to his shoulder I was fully focused to find a way through the carnage that was about to happen and the passing vehicle just blithely continued like he does that several times a day. I don't think he does or he wouldn't live very many days.
Despite the passing craziness, some drivers do actively help you pass. Trucks move over so we can pass in the lane. They honk, wave and give thumbs up. We were behind a red truck eastbound on Paso Los Libertadores. He was great at passing, aggressive but polite. He was clearly running empty because he spun his tires pulling out for one pass. We continued to cheerfully follow him because he was such a good driver until we came to a stop at a construction zone. We decided to pass him on the right shoulder and get through the zone first. When we pulled in front of him I turned back and pointed at him, did a steering wheel motion then a thumbs up. He smiled and returned the thumbs up (which is clearly a friendly gesture here). Latter he passed us while we were taking photos in Argentina. He smiled and gave another thumbs up. On rural roads people wave much like in Wyoming. They also flash lights and honk horns in greeting.
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| Sneaking past the red truck. These pics were taken with a Go-Pro set to take one every 10 seconds. |
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| Looking back at the stop to signal our admiration of his driving. |
Off to dinner!
I am totally into this adventure blog
ReplyDeleteThanks, Noel. I'm totally into the adventure!
ReplyDeleteYou ARE a Hero, my GoPro friend! Muy bien!!
ReplyDelete