The best until last and late..? Columbia

What with the sheer size and time spent in Brazil I had guessed that Venezuela and Columbia may have ended up being a little “wafer thin mint sir?” This was not helped of course by the two week delay before I’d even got going and the many days of further messing about that came with riding with others. Having finally decided on a finish in Columbia (due to a lack of time) I have managed to find a cheery Dutch guy who is willing and keen to send Des to Holland for me from Columbia for a reasonable price and pretty quickly(!?) Hmmm...
A deadline was needed or I’d still be somewhere around Rio with BJ and Dave and so as a result I've been back in the realm of more Rio to Belem style smelly/hungry/tired flat out riding in order to not miss the boat so to speak. 1200km (including a border) in two days have meant that my view of western Venezuela and northern Columbia have been a bit of a blur but there you go. Still from the blur I have concluded that (well the northern 467km that I rode) is mostly very beautiful indeed. I was able to do the first day of 800km after being out of bed like a shot at 5am. Literally, as three unmistakeable gunshot rounds were fired off somewhere outside mine and Lenny’s hostel in Caracas followed by screeching tyres!!
What have I learned from the last couple of months then? Indecision is the key to flexibility...unless its other peoples and you end up paying the price later...
Still, I’ve made it to Cartagena my finishing point and I’ve a few days to clean up, drink beer, one more blog entry and relax a bit. Now then, where’s BJ...?

Caracas

Caracas I’ve now discovered holds the unsavoury title of ‘murder capital of the world’ with on average 300 murders a week. Previously held by Johannesburg and Bogota this was perhaps not the best place to be followed anywhere regardless of whether we could just “take the piss” as before. Fortunately though Lenny had lined up a few beers with a local rider named Sylvio who was able to show us around town and fill us in on the ongoings in this weird place. Basically, for me it’s only comparable to Ulaan Batar, Mongolia for places where you really need to be switched on at all times. An immediate assesment of the place as I sent emails behind bars up on the ‘terrace’ of our shocking hostel revealed two guys smoking crack cocaine next door on the street. Everyone that doesn't live in a Favela is behind bars here like prisoners in their own home. It has a feel of parts of South Africa about it, like nothing really matters beyond now. Big problems here aren’t helped by the huge corruption of politicians, police and businesses. So we headed out into the more affluent area of the city with Sylvio and his friend for pizza and beers. Good old motorcycle chat followed interrupted by checking out the local scenery. For those of you that are interested...you might like to know that cosmetic surgery is incredibly popular here from virtually any age resulting in some jaw dropping moments. I suspect it’s all to do with competition or even following ‘the norm’ but Slyvio’s take on it is it’s due to the hot weather meaning that the girls can’t hide behind much clothing. Whatever it is I’m just sorry that I couldn’t bring myself to take a few photos (for those of you that are interested of course..!)

A crazy end to a crazy day

With Lenny and his possessions gathered and strapped to our bikes we followed the officials to the police station for formalities. Lenny, fully admitting fault wasn’t keen to drag this out despite Venezuelan law stating that it was the truck drivers fault and Lenny could be compensated. So off we went in search of help to straighten out the battered KLR. Eventually after finding a cheap hotel we found a garage with some willing mechanics to assist. Lenny had his panniers expertly bashed back into shape with even some aluminium wielding thrown in. While this was going on I took the opportunity to give Des an oil and filter change before the fun began... What followed was a haircut by a passing hairdresser and several crates of beers with the mechanics. We had a right old laugh despite the language barriers, in many ways it was in relief of what had happen earlier. Eventually, understandably Lenny wasn’t able to continue though as he was now suffering with a sore back. So Venezuela...nice warm and helpful people then? This impression was immediately dispelled as we got followed into our ‘secure’ parking area of the hotel. This guy demanded money from us for an unknown reason and was pretty determined as we played the whole ‘stupid gringo’ game with him for over an hour until he eventually decided that although slightly bigger than me and Lenny he perhaps wasn’t quite big enough. As I told Lenny “If he pulls a blade or speaks English we’ll have a chat but until then just take the piss...”

Luckily, lucky Lenny lives

In the pursuit of new experiences and having to overcome challenges, huge risks are taken by me and my fellow two wheeled travellers. Very little of the riding here I can say that I’ve actually enjoyed mostly due to the amount of Lorries on the roads, the driving standards, the old cars and the lumpy roads. Most of all though is the sad story I learnt of only months before I left the UK for this, my third trip. After bidding farewell to my friend Mick at Cape Town he went on to Buenos Aires, Argentina and he too stayed at Dakar Motos until his motorcycle arrived from South Africa. Also staying there was an Australian KLR rider named Adrian Kemmis, of similar age to me and Mick and chasing the same dreams. Mick even rode with him for a few days but a week or so later Adrian got hit by a truck in Curitiba, Brazil and died. Over the years I’ve been more than aware of the high risk in what I do and although it gives my nearest and dearest worries I think that it is just a small part of what makes me who I am. This though has been the first time that I’ve started to wonder what will happen to all of these words and pictures should I suffer a similar fate. Maybe it’s time to tick off some other things on my quite small bucket list I reckon and save some more of these for when I’m older..?
And so Lenny...What was he doing? Maybe it was the classic ‘just eaten’ or even the ‘lady in the tight jeans’ but whatever in attempting to cut across a dual carriageway in order to double back after a lunch and fuel stop he inexplicably made half a glance to see what was coming. Not enough clearly, as he rode out to the outer reservation while I saw what he hadn’t and then has to await the full horror of what was about to happen...
The car trailer truck was never going to be able to stop or avoid an oblivious Lenny and once the fully locked up truck with smoke, horns and tyre squeals thundered past me I had the most gut renching few seconds as I waited for bits of bike and lumps of Lenny to appear from under the 30 ton object. Over the top of the trailer though, through the dust and smoke I caught a glimpse of Lenny’s bike jacket and once the truck had finally stopped miraculously Lenny appears from the central reservation on two feet!! I cannot and will not ever be able to understand how he survived this nor will I be able to grasp exactly how lucky he was to survive this episode. I should also mention that the truck’s skid marks in the picture are only about half of what they actually were, about 50-75 meters in total. The end result was a scuffed up Lenny, a rear ended KLR saved by the pannier rack/panniers which was just about rideable despite a broken brake lever, bent handlebars and a pile of scratches. It appears that the truck shunted Lenny along and finally off the road with him ending up a couple of feet away adjacent to the truck’s rear trailer wheels. I should also note that despite being in the middle of nowhere help appeared immediately with officials on the scene very quickly. What a lucky boy.
As he keeps reminding me (especially after the mosquito horrow show in the Amazon)..."The worse it is the better it looks on the blog." Hmmm, well in that case then just think how much better this would look had a different outcome happened(?!)

Venezuela

With the three of us all suffering from trench foot after the previous soggy days we crossed into Venezuela. Nearly all reports that I’ve had point to a dangerous country on the verge of civil war, run by an unpopular dictator President Chavez. Still, apparently Nigeria was more than iffy but both myself and Mick were impressed by its people and anyway if you listen to what’s supposedly bad for you you’d never leave your house. Or eat.
A three man faff including Venezuelan insurance, customs and shipping from Columbia issues resulted in us spending an extra precious day in the not particularly nice border town of Santa Elena. Border towns never are nice though to be fair and so all judgement on Venezuela will have to wait for now. Also up for discussion was whether to attempt Angel Falls or not. With time now pressing and having already visited Iguazu Falls at the start of the trip I wasn’t keen, especially seeing as it involved a two day plane and boat journey costing £200. Plus it’s out of season and a question mark remains over whether there are any boats operating now at all? And anyway, the road north through Venezuela’s Grande Savannah offered several free waterfalls albeit none of them as spectacular as Angel’s. BJ though was adamant and so off he went with me and Lenny making for Cuidad Bolivar a couple of hours behind. Something worth a mention though is the cost of fuel in Venezuela. 0.097 Venezuelan Bolivars for a litre of the higher RON95 equates to...just a smidge over 1p a litre!! In fact it’s so cheap that BJ managed to get a free tank full as the petrol (NOT “Gas” Lenny!) attendant couldn’t be bothered to give him change from a fairly large note!!
As for the ride itself, it was the usual hot, long and tiring day with pretty much the same scenery as Brazil once past the beautiful Grande Savannah. On the road there’s plenty of old American beaten up cars and Toyota Land Cruisers. Unsurprisingly if you’re Venezuelan and don’t drive a V8 you’re in the minority and at 1p a litre I can see why!

Me+2=3

After three weeks of very little riding it was finally time to fire up big Des and head north away from the Amazon and up to Venezuela for country number three. Despite knowing Lenny for what seems like ages since first meeting him way back in Buenos Aires, today was our first ride together. A brief introduction then...Lenny Neugarten, 41, New Jersey, I.T. man, shared humour, and (sorry if you’re reading this Lenny, but) rides what felt like a truly horrible KLR during a brief swap over in Belem.
With a long days ride in prospect to Boa Vista the first few hundred km’s flew by as we sped through the national park admiring the nice road and view. After the heat and humidity of the weeks before the heavy rain that came down late in the day was actually fairly welcome but little did we know what implications that would lead to further down the road...
Before then though Lenny’s KLR (Killer?) managed to commit murder (OK then, birdslaughter) by taking out one of the huge er...blackbirds that are found in these parts. Not nice but we’re all in the firing line on these roads...Next up was another Equator crossing with my last in Gabon last year. Photos quickly taken, we rode on and the rains continued, until the road didn’t. The first reports we had was from a truck driver that seemed to indicate that the road north was closed for maybe up to three weeks(!?) with no re-route option. Hmmm. Still, we managed to persuade the police to allow us to “take a photo” and attempt the first breached river crossing. Both Des and BJ’s TT600 rumbled through the knee deep stuff much to the amazement of the locals but Kenny’s KLR cut out a couple of times and needed to be pushed through. No damage done except for a little lost time but the second road closure 80km up the road was a different matter altogether. This time the truck driver was spot on. Chest deep, still rising, no hotels, dark, not good. After a little ‘beer money’ a local allowed us (me and BJ) to use our camp gear for the first time in South America and there we camped. More heavy rain during the night meant deeper flooding but after some negotiating and more bits from those horrible little black flies we managed to get all three bikes across the 3km flood to the dry and waiting road by way of hiring a ‘put put put’ boat.
All’s well that ends well or something.

Ayahuasca

I’ve deliberated over whether to post this entry as clearly it’s more than a little controversial. Perhaps if I’m a father one day this will have to go but for now I’ll remain true to my feelings and experiences and share this episode with you all. Again for nearly everyone including me yesterday clicking this link will explain what it is...Ayahuasca.
All set up by our jungle guide Antonio this was clearly going to be heaven or hell. The usual format for the full spiritual experience involves seeing how it’s made, a visit to a Shaman, blindfolds, plenty of chanting and suitable music for the 4-6 hours somewhere in the jungle. We however did none of this and after our Shaman didn’t turn up we simply sat away from the road in the light vegetation and drank...
I’m not going to pretend that I’m any sort of saint as my close friends hopefully wouldn’t testify but this was a new one on me and once the three third of a cups we in me I waited... What followed was partly expected with several hours of violent vomiting and diarrhoea, major problems dealing with light, time slowed right down and generally being totally bad worded. Even with the whole shaman, chanting thing I fail to see how or why anyone would want to do this but believe it or not it has developed into the new religion ‘Santo Daime’ with followers around the world. Somehow after what seemed like 100 years we got back to our hostel and still battered I saught redemption by way of Markus Schulz’s Prague ’11. Surely this would create the whole ‘sound as shapes and kaleidoscope’ phenomena? Er no. Think of this poison (it can only be) as making the brain like an early notebook computer not having sufficient processor speed to deal with sound and video. My beautiful trance music reached my brain at a speed of 1.5 times faster than normal due to time being slowed down so much. So all in all then, an absolutely horrendous experience. Time to move on now I think...

Save (mosquito) life...give blood

Finally off the boats and checked into the nice and clean Hostal Manaus we went in search of adventure by way of a two day jungle tour. The tour we eventually chose seemed to offer a more rough and ready experience and having met our guide Antonio there seemed little doubt that he was the real deal. Two action packed days followed that will live with me for quite a while were helped by the other three punters in our group Josh and Davina from London and Okae from Holland. Two road and two boat trips over four hours eventually got us all deep into the Amazon rainforest, south of Manaus but on the way we stopped to see the meeting of the rivers Negra and the Amazon. Again, for a more comprehensive guide as to what that means click here. Also en route to our intended camp was some dolphin spotting and a nice little swim just before a spot of piranha fishing(!?) Using chicken pieces I led the way and ended up catching four of the little razor sharp teeth swimmers. With the heavens opened and with darkness about to fall it was then time to get all Ray Mears like and build camp. This was done expertly by Antonio assisted by us all. We then headed back into our little boat and set off to a local family’s house where we met the family and cooked a meal. Despite feeling a little tired by now there was still time for some Cayman hunting which Antonio duly hunted. He was only a little fella to be honest but all the same a Cayman. Campfire and beers then before a 20 minute sleep in the hammocks awaited. Yes 20 minutes. Now I know that many people often say it but...I don’t know what or why it is but the mosquitoes absolutely love me. I got reminded of why during RTW09 I rode 1200km in a day to escape them as I got totally annihilated during the night possibly in part to an ill fitted ‘Gringo net.’ Whatever, it ended up being the joint worst night of my life along with my cold and wet rat nightmare last year on Mount Cameroon. Mercifully morning came and nobody could exactly say how bad it was but the general opinion was that I’d sustained over 200 mosquito bites mostly on my back which meant that the little bastards did me through the net, hammock, shirt and even Deet. If you really want a laugh then click on the picture for a closer view of the carnage. Not happy at all I broke down camp with the others and we then set off on a two hour trek. An introduction to the Amazon’s amazing plant and tree life was given including a IACGMOOH grub eating session by me BJ and Okae. Next Antonio moved onto wildlife as a tarantula was coaxed out of his home and presented to us before the final piece of action involved a Sloth being brought down from a tree for us all to hold, photo and generally annoy. Only after all of this lot we finally headed back to civilisation. We weren’t however finished with the Amazonian experience just yet as a beer fuelled camp conversation highlighted a wonderful or nightmarish final experience that me, BJ and Lenny decided to face head on the following evening. But hey it couldn’t be worse than being bitten 200+ over the night surely..?