Jammin thru the Global South

Ok, so bike has been rebuilt with full suspension refresh and old jet needle put back in the carb and bike is running great. Took it for a test ride and she's pulling very strong in all gears even near WOT. Was going 65-70 mph came upon an incline and still pulling hard with no bogging. Idling nicely and not running rich after air/fuel settings redone. Feels like a new bike, fun to ride

So, maybe I have a bit more breathing room now to get a new jet needle.

Mechanics said the ethanol in the fuel here makes engines run leaner and even after running rich for a few days, spark plugs look more on the white side than black. So I think Ill leave the main jet as it is now. Oh and they said the engine was sounding very nice, running very smooth with no noises Valve check again showed all in spec. Hopefully I can make it to South Africa before the next major rebuild.

I read up on brazing and will try to find a place that does that here. But it should be strong enough for carb action, right? Wiki says this as a disadvantage: "The strength of the brazed joint is likely to be less than that of the base metal but greater than the filler metal."

Yeah I figure it's going to be hard to find the same part, since the source is unknown of this carb. I didnt take measurements before the bike was put back together but maybe soon, since Ill try and pursue the brazing method.

Here's some pictures of the bike work in the past few days:


The flat slide Mikuni TM40 carb with jet needle. I broke off the inside tip of the needle


sanDRina at Street Fighters, a high end motorcycle shop and bar in Sao Paulo. Getting a lot of preventative maintenance done.


Chief Mechanic, Rogerio at Street Fighters pumping in new Motorex oil into the rear shock. He said I had very little oil left and nitrogen was also low. Good thing to do a rebuild, has been over 30,000 miles. He's the official KTM mechanic in Sao Paulo as well as a certified Honda and Race Tech mechanic. He raced in the Rally dos Sertoes (Brazil's Dakar) with KTM.


Andre whacking out the old dented steering bearings. First time I've let anybody else work on the bike on this trip; I felt I could trust these guys and most of the work was stuff I can't do on my own anyway.


In front of the shop with the whole crew who went flat out over the last two days running around town getting parts for the bike (like new seal savers). A big thanks and they cut me a sweet deal on the work done.

hey jay,

I hope that my indicaations had worked for you.

SP has great mechanics!

When you`re goingo to ship your bike? or get out of sao paulo?

Yes, thanks for the help with where to find moto stuff

Well from here, I'm heading to Rio, then heading west to either Paraguay or directly to Bolivia.

This is great news Jay.
Nothing like a good running bike.

I stumbled upon your interview on the Side Stand Up Pod cast. Good job man! You could be the ambassador for all RTW travelers.

So I am assuming you put your broken Jet needle back in ... ?? Wow! Lucky! I will still ask Marc (Factory Pro) about your Carb. Now that I see it, I know exactly what it is. Maybe we can find a Jet Needle for it.

I hope your Brazilian Race Tech guy had a look at the internal rubber seals in your shock? I'm sure he would have changed any worn ones. When these blow out, all the oil will leak out. Race Tech normally put in all new seals when they do a shock re-build.

Heading back into Bolivia again! Great! Then down to Argentina to ship to Africa? Safe riding, rubber side down!

I'm working on Bolivia pictures, but here's a little fun way to view some of the highlights from Colombia to Peru. Click in the bottom right to go into full screen and enjoy

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Right Click on images to go into full screen mode and move cursor away from zoomed-in image to hide captions.

Let me know how you like this.

Hehe, so you finally managed to get a hold of Side Stand Up, huh. Thanks. Yeah, seems like there's lot of listeners and I like answering questions they have. Spread the good word about motorcycle travel

Yes, broken jet needle back in but running nice, so far. I didn't monitor him the whole time so not sure what he looked at but he said all the seals look good and shouldn't blow once properly set. Im going in with the panniers on Wednesday to set sag correctly.

Yup, didn't get to see the Salar de Uyuni, so have to before leaving South America.

great

July 22 - 26, 2010

Bolivia is a landlocked Andean nation, known for its breath-taking altitude and its lesser known share of the Amazon. I wanted to take a tour of the country before heading north for Brazil. However, I had a mechanical breakdown, cutting my time short in Bolivia. I got a taste for life in the country and vowed to return before leaving South America as I didn't get to see the Salar de Uyuni on this visit. However, I had an exciting ride down the Andes, through the Yungas onto the flat dry savannah heading north. I met many warm people and felt very welcome.

Entering at Lake Titicaca, I went through La Paz, then attempted a visit to the Salar. Had to return to La Paz and then continued north to the border with Brazil.


Crossing at Kasani, near Copacabana on Lake Titicaca. Border processing was very smooth.


My route through Bolivia: entering at Lake Titicaca, then La Paz, down to the start of the Salar, then back to La Paz and heading north for Brazil. Click on it to go to the interactive version in Google Maps.


Panorama of Lake Titicaca from Copacabana, about 10 kms (6 mi) from the border. Boats leave from here for Isla del Sol. Elevation is at around 3,800 m (12,460 ft).
Click here to see the high resolution version.


A crafts vendor in the main plaza of the town.


Entrance to the 16th-century Basilica of Our Lady of Copacabana, in front of where the pastor blesses vehicles.


Tower next to the cathedral, looking very middle-eastern. The current Spanish-built basilica sits on top of the once Temple of the Fertility of Kotakawana, scared to the Incas.


The gold-leaf covered facade of the altar inside. Very intricate.


Bolivia's currency is the Boliviano. $1 = 7 Bolivianos. 100 Bol = $14.


Heading out of Copacabana for La Paz.


Panoramic view of Copacabana on the left with the massive, impressive Lago Titicaca stretching beyond the horizon.
Click here to see the high resolution version.


The road was in good condition and it twisted around the shoreline. The lack of traffic made it an enjoyable ride.

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Video from Copacabana heading to the Strait of Tiquina.


Llama crossing.


The blue-ness of the lake is very impressive. With snow peaks of the Cordillera Real visible in the distance.


Coming down to the town of San Pedro de Tiquina to take a ferry across the Strait of Tiquina.


Pushing off from San Pedro for the 20 Boliviano ride.


The water was very choppy and I had the attendant hold the bike while I grabbed some pictures. Heading to San Pablo de Tiquina on the other side.


The ferry is powered by a small out board motor.


It's looks so fresh and clean and with no major cities nearby, hopefully it'll stay that way. The straits are monitored by the Bolivian Navy, being the only landlocked country to have a navy, which should help in Bolivia's struggle to regain access to the sea.


Looking into the sun and absorbing the shimmering rays from the thick surface.


Now that's some good sun for the solar panel.


On the other side, enjoying the last bit of riding by the lake.


On a clear day like this, the snow peaks in the distance keep calling you further to them.


Twisting across the altiplano towards the bustling capital of La Paz.


View of the bowl-shaped city of La Paz at an average elevation of 3,600 m (11,800 ft), making it the highest capital city in the world, with snow-peaked Illimani towering over the city. The downtown area is at the trough of the valley and houses sprawl in all directions from there, up and over the surrounding ridge.


A panoramic view of the city as the sun disappears behind the ridge.
Click here to see the high resolution version.


New bridges set to open shortly to connect one side of the valley with the other. The city is not flat anywhere and the steep elevation changes are impressive. You can drop about a 1,000 m (3,280 ft) and still be within city limits.


A rally-edition Lada. And that's Alfonso, whom I contacted through HorizonsUnlimited and he helped me take care of a few things around town.


The Government Palace of Bolivia in the main plaza of the city. Not having much flat area, the central plaza is quite small compared to other major cities, but cozy.


The main cathedral.


Steps on the main plaza. Alfonso told me how a few years ago the military and city police exchanged gunfire across the plaza due to some policy issues, similar to what happened in Ecuador recently. Bullets holes can still be seen in the surrounding buildings.


Pigeons, lot of them everywhere with kids running around making them take flight.


The roads are pretty confusing around La Paz, so I just went 2-up on Alfonso's KLR and got a nice view of the city that way.


Buying spices in preparation for a chicken curry for Alfonso and his family. He works in computer security and did some work for the US embassy.


Impressed to find such a wide array of fresh spices, along with pealed garlic. It's a good sign that people are cooking with spices up here and I was told Bolivian food was bland, bah.


Selecting some fresh chillies at the Rodriguez market.


The red chillies are hotter than the green but the small guys pack the biggest punch.


Illimani shining in the setting sun's light between a valley of buildings.


Following the moon back to Alfonso's home.


A full moon and Illimani shining over La Paz. Colorful building adds a nice juxtaposition. The galciated peak provides drinking water for the city and they've started to take notice now that the glacier has been shrinking and the city is concerned about near-future water supplies at this altitude.


Taking a ride into the surrounding hills with Alfonso and his riding friend, Gonzalo.


They have fun rides like this just a few kilometers from town with snow peaks in the distance.


Our destination: Devil's Tooth, a horny rock formation.


Scaling up to the peak.


The slate rock was loose and made for tricky footings with motorcycle boots.


View from the top of the city and its surrounding ridge.


View of Illimani from the top.


Alfonso and I with a view of the city.


Our three bikes are the little dots in the foreground with Illimani peaking out in the background.


sanDRina enjoying the company of 650cc thumpers. And besides, everyone thinks my bike is a KLR because of the color scheme.


Looks more like some devils teeth from this view.


Hoodoo rock formations, similar to Bryce Canyon in Utah. The city is full of geologic wonders and almost feels like it could be a national park.


That afternoon, Alfonso's daughter came over with her son for lunch in her green bug.


And his cute pit bull, Achira who was fun to play around with. They are such docile dogs covered in a bad reputation.


The chicken curry that I prepared for Alfonso and his family.


Heading out north of the city the next day for a ride along the Death Road, Camino del Muerte. We got an early start and it was blistering cold as the road climbed up to 4,300 m (14,100 ft).


We saw these two guys walking their bike back down and stopped to help. They had a flat, so I used my air compressor but the tube was ruptured, so they continued pushing it back down. We saw them later in the day on our way back, zipping by.


At the summit near 4,600 m (15,080 ft).


A light snow dusting on the peaks with grand views from the guard-railed road.


Heading down to warmer climes. The road continues dropping all the way to the Amazon.


At the inconspicuous start to the Death Road. Since the new road's been built, there's very little traffic on the old road to Coroico.


The road to Coroico winding its way along the twisted cliffs.


It was very similar to the roads in northern Peru from Chachapoyas to Cajamarca - single track dirt road with no guard rails. And the numerous accidents on this road earned it its famous name of the World's Most Dangerous Road. Well, not anymore with no traffic, but Alfonso tells me there's another similar road quickly gaining notoriety as the new camino del muerte.


Whatever it's called, it's a nice ride with great views.


The sun was bright over head, so excuse some of the over exposure.


Following the contours of the cliffs, slowing winding downhill.


A well-designed road, but just not safe enough for crazy two way traffic.


The bikes perched on a ledge.


I think I can see an old van... The unacceptable regular high loss of life finally lead to the construction of the new wider road to Coroico.


Where's my "I survived the Death Road t-shirt?"


Looking up at the new road with its many bridges making for a straighter path.


Enjoyable ride and we only came across a few vehicles.


A bus winding its way along the old Death Road. You can imagine what happens when two buses meet and are negotiating a pass, at night, in the rain :/


The inconspicuous turn off for the old Death Road, heading to Chuspipata, then Coroico.


Having some lunch of freshly fried trucha (trout).


Riding back up to the pass and into La Paz.


Getting the corners of my panniers reinforced at a welding shop to prevent future cracks. They're sturdy panniers, but I'm putting them through lots of abuse with bike tip overs.


And a nice thing for guys is that in all Peruvian and Bolivian workshops, the walls are plastered in scantily-clad models showing off their merchandise. Yes, make love to the bearing.


Achira watching over the bikes as I got sanDRina ready for a supposed tour of southwest Bolivia.


A hearty meal before hitting the road of quinoa, onions and cheese.

Yay, more pics! Fantastic.

July 27 - August 3, 2010

From La Paz, I headed south towards the Salar de Uyuni. A mechanical breakdown meant I had to return to La Paz to fix the bike.


Filling up the tank on the outskirts of the city. The price of gasoline is fixed all throughout Bolivia and there's only one grade, I think it's close to an 86 octane. Bol 3.74 / liter = $2/gal, half the price it is from Peru.


Heading out on the flat altiplano at around 4,000 m (13,120 ft).


Sherlock Holmes and Ferrari(?) welcoming you to Oruro, a city known for its carnival celebrations.


After finding a small hotel, a residencial for 25 Bolivianos with parking, I walked around seeking out a place to eat and where ever there's a crowd of locals around some pots of food, it's gotta be good eats.


It was a mother-daughter team working rapidly to serve out their food and people were waiting patiently in line for their dinner.


Menu was rice, a potato, some chuno (freeze-dried potato of the Andes) and a meat choice of chicken or lamb (cordero). I went for the lamb.


And topped with some onion and tomato salad. All for 12 Bolivianos ($1.75). After you empty your bowl, you can get some thin pasta soup for the chilly night. The people welcomed me to sit and dine with them, recognizing I was a stranger when I started taking photos.


A busy street near the center where there were numerous juice bars serving up protein shakes.


The cakes looked real appetizing but they were in the open air at an intersection and I already consume enough carbon monoxide while riding, so I passed.


Taking off the next morning and grabbing some quick breakfast at a gas station of an empanada with eggs and some veggies. And homemade hot sauce is always around in Bolivia and it's good. Note the plastic bag that the empanada is served in. In general, I feel people serving food have a good sense of hygiene here.


South of Oruro, heading towards the Salar. The mountains on the left grind down to the flat plains on the right.


Distance board. The pavement ends just outside Huari. I wasn't going to Uyuni directly.


On a turn-off, heading west to the town of Jirira, where I planned to enter the salt plain and ride across the salar to Uyuni. This road was being paved but it wasn't open yet and there was a wide sandy track instead.


After seeing a local biker buzzing by on the new pavement, sneaking through the barriers, I figured I could easily climb this sandy embankment to get up to the asphalt. But my rear tire sunk in some soft sand and I gave it too much throttle, which ended up burning a fibre plate in my clutch (heavy rear weight and touring tire - no match for the sand). I managed to climb up the embankment and then realized I couldn't go faster than 32 kph (20 mph); the engine spinning freely as the clutch wouldn't engage past slow speeds.


Burnt clutch in the middle of nowhere at 3,600 m (11,800 ft). This engine had 36,800 kms (23,000 mi) at this point.


At least I had all the necessary tools to go into the engine and diagnose the problem.


The fibre on the first disc was completely disintegrated (it's supposed to look like the disc behind it).


Storing the oil from the engine in two zip lock bags as I had to reuse the oil, not carrying enough fresh oil and besides, couldn't really dump it just on the road. It had fibre bits of the ruined clutch all through it, but what to do.


My Scotts stainless steel reusable oil filter catching bits of the disintegrated fibre from the clutch. I used some carb cleaner that I have strapped on the bike to clean the filter.


I had only ruined one disc, so I thought I could remove that bad one and use washers to exert the needed pressure for the clutch to engage properly.


The clutch cover has probably never been open before, so the brittle paper gasket broke in many places. I spent about an hour cleaning the cover and then applying RTV silicone to act as a gasket and it worked great, with no oil leaks.


A touring bicyclist that I passed earlier in the day finally caught up with me. Kevin here is a German-Bolivian and began his trip in Mexico city in late 2008. He stopped and gave me company for a while. He was a quantum physics researcher in Berlin before deciding to sell off everything to do his dream ride (urupica.de). He planned to spend a week riding around the salar, carrying all his provisions and the crazy thing was that he was sleeping outside and this is winter, where temperatures drop to around -20 C (-4 F) at night (my sleeping bag's only good to 10 C (50 F)). And I always feel guilty when I pass these touring bicyclists creating their own locomotion while I sit on my seat and twist the throttle. Much respect. He told me I had about an hour of sunlight left and if the bike's not working, I needed to find shelter for me and the bike.


My idea of removing the burnt disc wasn't good and I had no traction in the clutch. To get a sense for where I was, those mountains on the other side are about 15 kms (9 mi) away.


There was a small town at the top of this hill, Santuario de Quillacas. I walked into town and found a place to sleep for the night and then came back to roll the bike up the hill into safety. A few people stopped and told me it was not safe to leave the bike here overnight. This road is used to smuggle cars illegally into Bolivia from Chile and bandits are rife at night. I was struggling to make any progress up the hill; gaining 2 meters and then huffing and puffing out of breath at this altitude. I figured I had to do it even if it took all night. Don't worry, sanDRina baby, I got you covered.


I filled up all 40 liters (10 gal) in the last town and thinking of how airplanes need to dump fuel before making an emergency landing, I decided to start dumping fuel to lighten the load that I had to push. Besides the environmental hazard, the flow rate was too low to make any difference. I would need an hour just to lose a few liters. But I kept pushing as the fuel drained.


Luckily, a local quechua family was walking back into town after herding llamas during the day and they offered to help. The mother and daughter were quite strong and we made good progress up the hill. Gaining about 10 meters before a 5 minute break. And I didn't need to waste any more fuel.


The father put my panniers on his bicycle and struggled up the hill with them. They took me to the local church, the santuario, since it had an enclosed place for safety of the bike. I thanked them for their generous help and they simply said "de nada" - think nothing of it.


I got a bed with lots of warm blankets for 20 Bolivianos and they fed me some dinner for another 10. They had a long distance phone, so I rang up my mechanic in Chicago, Gus and asked his advice. The $5 phone call told me what I had to do to make it back. Gus suggested I cut some steel discs to make up the stack in the clutch to get some engagement. In the morning, I put the burnt disc back in and since the bike was rolling, I figured best to get back to a town where I could make some steel discs to get back to La Paz.


Rolling at 40 kph (25 mph) on the side of the road heading to Oruro. Luckily it was generally flat, thanks to the nature of the altiplano. It took all day and I made it just as darkness fell and the temperatures dropped.


I found a residencial close to a mechanic and then when out on town to find some tasty dinner.


She's frying up some lamb kidneys and livers. How about some high-quality proteins, loaded with vitamins and minerals. Only downside is high cholesterol.


Nice, hearty meal for 5 Bolivianos ($0.71). The plastic covering on the plate ensuring clean food even if the plate hasn't been cleaned properly.


The next morning, Fernando here offered to help to get me back to La Paz.


He got me some sheet metal and I set about sniping the discs.


Took quite a while, but I managed to make two discs that would take up the stack of the ruined fibre.


Fernando flattening them out to make them fit in the clutch basket. He didn't accept any payment and said it was a pleasure to help a traveler out. The steel discs worked great and I had full engagement of the clutch through all five gears and speeds up to 100 kph (62 mph). I had about 3 hours of sunlight left for the 200 kms (125 mi) to La Paz. I rode with utmost focus to make it back in time.


Safe again in Alfonso's home in La Paz. I was happy to see the clutch still working along the steeps of the city. My attempt to tour the southwest of Bolivia came to nought and now I was running out of time to enter Brazil, but I promised to come back again to see the Salar.


The next day, we went around to some bike shops and luckily I found some clutch discs for a Kawasaki KLX650 that just about matched the dimensions of my clutch disc. The inner diameter was a bit bigger and the teeth were a bit smaller, but it would work and the bike felt great. I was confident of making it through the Transamazonica to Sao Luis in Brazil where I planned to get a care package from the States, now with a new clutch.


Tasty Saltenas of Bolivia. They're a fried snack from the Salta area of northern Argentina and now are part of the local culture here. We had some the other day at a bike dealership and the guys forgot to tell me that the stuffing is liquid and it dripped all over, but it was so tasty.


Having a tamale, another street snack.


After hearing about my chicken curry at Alfonso's last week, Gonzalo asked if I could prepare it for his family. Happy to spread the joys of curry.


Frying some onions with ginger, garlic and chillies. You can't go wrong with a base like this.


I'm getting better and better at making this particular recipe and I'm happy I can source all the ingredients locally (you can find curry powder everywhere) and it comes out pretty good using different pots and stoves each time.


Going for a test ride after lunch to make sure the clutch feels good and it did.


Zebra Crossing Enforcer. The local mayor's office has these guys dressed as zebras at various zebra crossings, as their known in Britain or pedestrian crossings for everyone else.


Fun-loving characters and Alfonso said you could be a zebra for a day, volunteering to the city. They're trying to foster good habits of crossing only at designated places.


This car on the left stopped past the white line into the zebra crossing making it harder for this lady to get across and the zebra gave the driver a scolding, making a big drama out of it - you know, a little public humiliation to drive home the message. Quite progressive of La Paz to see this.


Alfonso's wife is from the Yungas and her family harvest oranges to sell them in the city.


With Alfonso's mother-in-law, a Bolivian with very strong African ethnicity, where I'm headed next year.


One of numerous murals around the city.


Saying bye to Achira and Alfonso as I head north out of La Paz for Brazil. Thanks for all the help, Alfonso.

August 3 - 9, 2010

I left La Paz and headed north to more remote regions of Bolivia towards the Brazilian border about a 1,000 km (625 mi) away and most of it was off-road. The road plunges from the heights of the Andes, down to the Yungas and finally onto the savanna leading to the Amazon jungle. I was in expedition mode, as I knew the terrain and conditions would be tougher.


At the peak of the Andes at around 4,670 m (15,300 ft), all going downhill from here. I rode this road to Coroico just last week and it was bright and sunny, but today, fast moving clouds shrouded the route in neblina (fog), greatly reducing visibility. It was also lightly drizzling, making for a slick road surface.


Riding into a white-out, where visibility was reduced to a few meters. I slowed down a lot but had to keep moving. Imagine these conditions on the old Death Road and one can see how it gained its notoriety. But this replacement was going to show me that the danger is still there in inclemental conditions.


Taking refuge in a tunnel and putting on my rain gear. Unaware of the accident about to happen.


Fog didn't ease up and visibility was still just in front of my face. As I was negotiating some tight hairpin turns with my safety glasses and helmet shield fully wet, I saw a truck emerge out of the fog suddenly in front of me in my lane. He was one of the typical vehicles down here that doesn't have a working rear tail light or brake light. The truck came to a sudden stop, maybe to let me pass but it was too close to me and I knew if I slammed on the brakes, I was going down (reminiscent of my first accident in Costa Rica) so I had to go onto the shoulder to avoid hitting him, but the shoulder was covered in slick mud and I went down instantly. No injury to me, but sanDRina suffered a broken windshield as she hit the right rear tire of the truck. The truckers jumped out and helped me get the bike up and I didn't know if they were shouting at me or apologizing, but it was all over within a few minutes. I regained my composure and carried on with my eyelids taped open!


The pavement ended near Coroico and the road turned to cobble stones as I pushed north to Caranavi.


And a little further, it went one step further to mud. Wet mud was the one road condition that I was most dreading with this heavy bike but was happy to see that it wasn't so bad to ride through. Just take it easy and go smooth on the bike inputs.


This road wasn't that bad as you can see the wet mud was only a few millimeters deep and underneath was a hard road surface. Pretty nice views of misty valleys with the sun trying to poke through the constant drizzle.


Blechk. First time riding in wet mud.


The road from Coroico to Caranavi is cut into the cliffs and is narrow in most places, making encounters with oncoming traffic tricky, especially as this is a commercial route with lots of trucks and buses. And I didn't catch on for a while that traffic on this road drives on the left (like in India) - repeated flashes from oncoming traffic on the right side of the road was confusing.


It's because in precarious situations like this, the outer-most driver needs to be able to see how close he can get his wheel to the edge of the cliff to let traffic past (driver is on the left side of the vehicles here) and margins are very small in places. In these muddy conditions, I wanted to stay closer to the inside edge, but no, I had to ride close to the cliff :/


When there was no traffic, it was quite a pleasant ride and I was getting the feel of riding in mud.


Mmm, everything coated in a thin layer of mud. I was hoping not to get a flat tire in these conditions, cause I didn't want to touch the bike. I used a hose near a river to wash off the bike, especially the oil radiator and cooling fins on the engine. Even with my shortened front fender, there wasn't much mud on my oil radiator.


A typical scene of two trucks facing off each other around a bend. It was slow going with lots of stops for traffic encounters but everyone was well-behaved.


A wide view of the Coroico River as the road winds through the valley.


Coming across a natural tunnel, which was underwater.


Beautiful ride in this steep valley and besides wetting the road, the misty rain added some epic quality to the terrain.


The clouds finally parting as I neared Caranavi, where the first thing I did was wash off the mud again from all the important places. And then soak under a hot shower.


A mural in a restaurant in Caranavi. Say, that looks really familiar...


Bolivian independence was coming up in a few days and the parade was having a practice through the streets with kids doing some cool synchronized line dancing with some breakdance maneuvers.


The next day, the rain eased up, but the road was still wet.


Oops. Sure thing it's peligro (dangerous). This is a fuel truck and imagine how many times they must slip the other way over the cliff.


I was chugging along mainly in first or second gear since I'm no expert mud rider, but that got the engine very hot, so I took frequent breaks. The road climbed up and down over numerous hills and I was impressed that I didn't get stuck any where, that too with a worn front tire. This is the only route from La Paz heading to the northern region of Bolivia so buses and trucks were frequent.


I guess it doesn't matter what kind of tire you have for mud, cause the tread's going to get clogged anyway.


Taking another break as the engine temperature (between spark plug and cylinder head) soared to 176 C (350 F). I was skating with my feet down through the real thick goop away from the tracks.


Misty, jungle riding through the Yungas.


A sense for the terrain that the route passed through. The Yungas are a transitional region of the Andes, a swath of rainy, humid and warm forest along the eastern slopes leading to the savanna below.


Reaching the small town of Buena Vista where every driver from the route breathed a sigh of relief at coming across an oasis.


Warming up with some typical pasta soup before the meal.


The restaurant owner was also selling coca leaves and home-made chocolate. I loaded up for the dry, dusty straight roads ahead.


He also said the road gets dry within a few kilometers. Encouraged with the drying track.


Crossing the Sapecho Bridge and...


It's dry and dusty! My enthusiasm for the end of the mud roads quickly faded as I realized it would be dry and dusty for the next 4,000 kms (2,500 mi) across the Amazon. Where are those coca leaves?


Taking a break for some lunch and looking back at the wet Yungas.


As I was packing up, Oscar here was riding the other way on a KLR. He's from La Paz and a friend of Alfonso's who'd told him about me. "You're the crazy guy with a solar panel, right?"


Oscar and his wife coming back from a weekend trip. All suited up for dusty riding conditions and I told them about the mud ahead.


It was easy dirt riding that afternoon and towards the end of the day, I saw this Mitsubishi Pajero come barreling down the road and in front of me, his left wheels got caught in the trough by the edge of the road and it spun him violently across the road into this ditch against some trees. The guy climbed out and said he was fine. The dust hadn't even settled yet when I took this picture. Crazy drivers.


I did about 170 kms (106 mi) today from Caranavi and with the light fading, I asked a lady with a small shop in this building if I could camp here for the night.


She said no problem and I had some water access. It was breezy and elevation was about 800 m (2,600 ft).


Sunset over the eastern forests of Bolivia.


The young lady running the small convenience store and her crazy uncle were intrigued as I setup my kitchen to prepare some dinner.


I was carrying lentils and quinoa from Lima and I bought a few eggs from her.


A pretty good high-quality protein meal of lentils with quinoa and scrambled eggs, sprinkled with some Indian spices.


Continuing to drop elevation the next day as I pushed towards Rurrenabaque.


Entering the remote northern state of Beni.


The road was in better condition with some stretches of asphalt even.


The end of the Andes. The foothills end and the flat terrain starts. I've enjoyed these past months roaming around the majestic Andes and look forward to coming back soon. The Amazon lies ahead.


Colorful rock formation as the road touched down onto the flats.


Remove the hills and you get a wide, straight road. It was now getting hot for the first time in three months and time to remove my liners that I put in around southern Colombia.


Arriving at the halfway point between La Paz and the Brazilian border at Rurrenabaque, a tourist town geared towards jungle and river boat trips. I didn't intend to stay in town but as I rolled into the gas station on reserve, the attendant told me they had no petrol and he was the only gas station for around 50-100 kms (31-62 mi). I rode around town trying to find gas but no one was selling. He said the fuel convoy broke down in Caranavi and then later said they were being held up by road blocks. I figured I was going to be here for a while, waiting on petrol to arrive.


At least the setting was quite nice. Watching a sunset over the Rio Beni.


Still in 'expedition mode,' I cooked in my hotel room.


Preparing some pasta with tomato and tuna sauce.


Bolivian independence day celebrations in the streets of Rurrenabaque. The different colors represent the colors of the Bolivian flag.


I walked around town, mainly to the food market and spent the downtime learning Portuguese for the upcoming crossing into Brazil.


I managed to get a hold of 2 liters of petrol (0.53 gal) for 10 Bolivianos, about 1.25 times the regular price. As the days passed, the price for bootleg gasoline kept rising and I was debating whether to bite the bullet and buy 40 liters at now 4 times the regular price at 15 Bol/liter ($8/gal) or keep waiting for the fuel trucks to arrive. As I decided to buy the petrol at whatever price it was, my contact I developed at a local tour agency (where they horde thousands of liters of gasoline to ensure business stability), didn't follow through.


But luckily, on the fourth day, the fuel convoy arrived and everyone in town rushed out to the gas station to queue in lines to fill up their 2-wheelers, cars and spare barrels. It was slow moving and I was in line for about four hours. There was only one pump and the attendant alternated between filling up cars, barrels and the bikes. The moto taxi riders were the most vocal and demanding, but it was generally a jovial atmosphere. The attendant said there was no rush since three fuel trucks had arrived and there would be plenty of petrol for everyone. He encouraged people to come back in the afternoon to disperse the crowd, but no one was going anywhere until they got a fill up. Those three trucks probably didn't last till the afternoon.


Everyone gathered around to see how many liters my giant tank would hold and with those 2 liters that I dumped in earlier, it swallowed another 39 liters (10.3 gal). And luckily at the regular price of $2/gal. Only when it's scarce, do you really get a feel of how much our lives depend on this black gold from prehistoric plants that runs our current world. Hopefully it won't take more severe scarcity for us to realize the finite amount of natural resources on this planet.

What an outstanding RR this is, I wish you well Sir and ride safe.

August 9 - 13, 2010

After being stuck in Rurrenabaque, in northern Bolivia, for a few days waiting on petrol, the ride was on again. North to Brazil.


Eager to get back on the trail, I left Rurrenabaque around 3pm after getting petrol and packing up.


I didn't make it far before deciding to find a place to stay for the night. I came across this small farm and asked them if I could camp for the night.


It was a good ways away from the road and the dust and it felt quite tranquil.


They were herding cattle and sheep.


As I set about preparing dinner with my stove, they offered me a plate of food: rice with some eggs. Very generous of them.


In the evening, as darkness fell, the old man sat by the fire and their young child fanned the flames.


The next morning, back on the pebble-riddled sandy track. It was going to be hot and dusty for the next 550 kms to Riberalta, the next major town.


The surface was pummeled into soft sand in places and riding through wasn't that bad actually. The only downside was oncoming traffic with trucks barreling by with a huge wake of dust in the air, causing zero visibility for a few seconds. Good thing there was a breeze blowing most of the time to clear the road of the dust clouds.


Picking up some bananas in Santa Rosa, a reasonably-sized town about 97 kms (60 mi) from Rurre.


To avoid the bone-rattling rocks, I followed a path on the side of the road in some places.


Oops. As I was coming back to the main piste from a side track, the heavy sand caught my front wheel and laid the bike down gently, with the pannier resting against the small embankment.


It was quite a struggle to wake up sanDRina from her nap and the loose sand not helping.


I waited about 15 minutes and a local biker came by who helped me get sanDRina right side up. If no one would have come in 20 minutes or more, I was going to start removing the panniers and lightening the bike, but didn't really want to do that in these conditions.


Wow, now that's a tall bird. This is a Jabiru and it's the tallest flying bird in Latin America, standing as tall as 1.5 m (5 ft). As I got near, it was an impressive sight to see this guy take flight.


A group of jabirus around a pond in the Bolivian savanna.


A welcome sight of water in this dry, hot region.


The lose sand made for slow going but I was ratcheting up my sand riding experience as the day wore on.


A dust cloud was moving towards me and instead of the usual truck, it was a herd of cattle.


I got enveloped in them but the cowboys cleared a path for me.


The road condition changed later in the day to a smoother, harder surface allowing me to taste third gear after a long time.


The first sign of natural bright color in a while and the harder surface quickly lead to wash board, a phenomena of undulations that form from the vibrations of heavier traffic as they speed across dirt roads. If everyone would go slower, there'd be less washboarding.


Around 4 pm, I came across this farm and asked them if I could camp for the night, which wasn't a problem.


It was quite a big farm with lots of mechanization and they were also herding cattle.


Strange sunset in the pampas. The strength of the Sun started fading around 4 pm but dusk lasted till about 7 pm. The outline of the Sun was clearly visible all through dusk until it went under the horizon.


I think it's the fine dust in the air, obscuring the strength of our home star that allows us to see the Sun whole without blinding effects. At night, even with no cities around, I could only see a handful of stars.


The kitchen on the farm with an outdoor oven.


Fresh river fish for dinner and that one with the red stripe is a piranha.


The wood fire stove in the kitchen.


Frying up some fresh fish.


The owner and his wife sharing their dinner and their house with me for the evening.


Sunrise the next morning with a similar effect on the Sun.


Back to more mind-numbing washboard road. If you're an expert dirt rider, you can fly across the tops of the bumps by going very fast, but I took the slow route and went up and over each undulation. I was more concerned about the health of my rear shock and the vibrations breaking off something on the bike.


Riding across the bridge at Yata.


A river and colorful trees at Yata.


Looking forward to that curve up ahead. To keep my mind focused on the simple task of going in a straight line at slow speed, I had to listen to some audio books to keep my mind engaged.


Scenery of the pampas (savanna) of northern Bolivia.


And a lot of it is burned, creating pastures for cattle. As a country develops, its demand for red meat increases.


Look, there's a hill. Yeah! There were some stretches of respite from the washboard but after a short while, sudden intense vibrations would be felt signaling the return of the dreaded washboard.


As the sun started to retreat, I kept an eye out for the next farm.


I came across a few clusters of houses in Mariposa and was told I could camp under this tree.


Cute little piglets having a drink from a cut tire-drinking trough.


And after I setup camp, they reclaimed their territory and promptly went back to sleep.


This little guy tagged along and gave me this Caju fruit, from the tree I was going to be sleeping under. I didn't know the cashew nut comes from a fruit like this. Looks pretty strange with the nut outside and a sweet fruit attached to one end. The juice from the caju fruit is very common in these parts of Bolivia and into Brazil.


After I took an outdoor shower, one of the locals who told me I could camp here invited me over to his house for some dinner.


Some of his and the neighboring kids.


Dinner of some fried pork with boiled yuca and rice. There's no electricity in these rural parts and sunlight pretty much governs the day with farmers rising at dawn and trying to finish dinner before it gets dark with everyone turning in around 8 pm. I slept well these nights, get as much as 10 hours of sleep, recharging for the next day.


On the last stretch into Riberalta. Cars would pass me, flying at around 100 kph (62 mph) while I was chugging along at half that speed.


Road engineers have tried to analyze why washboard (corrugated) roads appear, but the cause of the phenomena still hasn't been figured out with prevention impossible. The only remedy is to regrade the road or go slower with lower tire pressures. I think I prefer sand riding over washboard.


Finally a road sign to Riberalta. Good to know I was on the right road (thanks to the trusty GPS).


The road got better as I neared Riberalta.


You're going to warn me about a dip after all that I've been through? Civilization must be close.


Coming across the first proper gas station since Rurre in Riberalta. You can find gasoline in the small towns along the way for about 5 Bol/lt.


The vibrations of the washboard took a toll on sanDRina and I had the right pannier weighed down a lot so wasn't surprised to find this crack in the pannier frame.


Welder in Riberalta promptly working on the bike.


Big, fat weld for 10 Bolivianos.


The accident in the fog had cracked a joint in my left pannier and he said he could also do aluminum welding.


A fine job of joining the split walls.


He also made me a new highway foot peg as the old one got sacrificed in the accident, acting as a frame slider and protecting any damage to the engine.


Having dinner with Rodrigo from CouchSurfing. He's from Santa Cruz but has been working here for a few years as he's involved in transporting the lucrative Brazil nut, which is gathered from wild trees as it can't be grown in plantations.


Dinner of some grilled beef with veggies and a soupy rice.


That evening, Rodrigo invited some friends over and we polished off two bottles of a local alcohol made from the Caju fruit.


The final stretch of the road in Bolivia, nearing the border at Guayaramerin.


More washboard, but construction was taking place to pave the 96 kms (60 mi) stretch from Guayara to Riberalta.


Having one last cheap meal in Bolivia before crossing into Brazil.


I didn't get to see what I really came for in Bolivia, the Salar de Uyuni but I had a wonderful time here, nonetheless. The people were warm and the food was good. I was shown lots of generosity from mechanics who helped me out with sanDRina and farmers who let me stay with them. It was a rough journey north of La Paz, but the experience will linger.

Going to be interviewed on SideStandUp.com tonight at 8:20 pm ET. Tune in to get an update on my ride thru Brazil.

Because of your occasional fall, you may want to get some elbow and knee pads.

When I see those miles and miles of washboard, all I can think of is hell no, I ain't doing that. Kudos to you!

I'm in Lima right now, heading to Bolivia before turning south. What's your plan after Brazil?

Enjoy

thx

I have foam pads in those areas in my Motoport suit and they seem sufficient. Have had 5 falls so far in this suit (since 2007) and no real injuries
It also has hip and chest pads along with the usual elbow, shoulder, knee and back pad. Thanx for the concern

Yes, it was painful but I knew it would end at some point but am glad I went through at least once. Dont know how excited I'll be about doing it again any time in the near future

Awesome. You'll enjoy it. Let me know if you got any questions.
So, since I didnt get to see the Salar, Im heading west from here back into southern Bolivia then turning south thru Atacama and down the Andes to TDF by Christmas (with a detour to Viedma on the eastern coast of Argentina to present at the HU Travelers Meeting).

As much as I feel for you and all the mechanical issues, I must say that I am selfishly happy you posted an update sans shinny bits and parts falling apart.

I am chatting on Talk shoe now, waiting for you to show up.

Thanks again and ride safe.

Jay,
Those are some of the best photos of the road to Coroico I've seen. I never went further than Coroico but did meet guys who rode into the Yungas and beyond. Awesome. That road scared the crap out of me ... I was on a bus. One set of the double wheels would hang off ... over the edge on corners. No one can really imagine just how far down the cliff goes. Now I guess there are two roads? I was there in 1976.

On Side Stand Up you mentioned running out of pages in your Passport. I was able to add pages to my US Passport in Argentina. (US Consulate) After seven years and 17 or so countries down there ... mine was full. Big stamps for some countries can take up a whole page. A waste.

Also, I got a whole new Passport ... in one hour ... in Quito. I did bring my own photos. This was decades ago. My old Passport had expired. They issued a new one on the spot. Perhaps your Indian Consulate will add pages to your current Passport? Its like an Accordion of pages. Adds about 10 or 15 pages. Good luck.

Waiting for Marc to show up at Factory Pro ... he has been gone.