Across the Darien...

South American Goldfish


We finally bridged the Darien Gap, that infamous stretch of swamps and mountains seperating Panama and Colombia. It´s only 120 miles between the end of the Panamanian highway and the nearest Colombian road but neither country wants to build a link. They are equally suspicious and distrustful of eachother, a characteristic prevelant throughout this entire journey. A useful tool at borders is criticising the previous country to get on good terms with the guards of the country we are trying to enter, without fail it brings an agreeable response which at one time helped out of a very tricky situation at the Peruvian border. Back in Panama I dropped Beth at the International Airport and took the bike to the cargo terminal, about 10kms away. Before getting there I found the road blocked by an angry mob and a hijacked bus. They refused to let anyone pass in a protest over public transport conditions. Hardly surprising as a fire had broken out on a bus the previous day killing 18 people. I was assured the delay would only be for a ´few hours´ so I settled in for a long wait. Soon the T.V. crews and the press arrived to cover the event and shortly afterwards one of the lead protesters gave me permission to pass, took the chance and sped around the bus straight into a line of soldiers. Equally shocked they stepped aside and let me through. Prepped the bike for shipping and said goodbye hoping to see it in a similar condition on the other side. We´ve heard a few horror stories about bikes going to the wrong countries or turning up damaged.

It`s not sunny everyday


We flew into Bogota that evening, got a taxi into the city and spent the night at the Platypus Hostel, exhausted from the days events. Next morning it was back to the airport to liberate the bike. Lots of paperwork, lots of waiting and 3 hours later we were driving back into the city on an undamaged bike, hats off the Girag Cargo. Colombia has a strange law that requires all bikers to wear reflective vests with the plate number clearly printed on the front and back, a response to the use of motorcycles in drive by assassinations. We got a few nervous looks as we drove back into the capitol without vests. Immediately noticed a big difference passing through the hourglass of the Americas into the South. After the bottleneck of Costa Rica and Panama where U.S. influnces are most prevalent Colombia was a new experience altogether. The people are open and friendly, keen to dispel their reputation as drug barons or guerrillas. The country has more than it´s fair share of problems but there is a strong feeling of optimism and enthusiasm. After a couple of days in Bogota we located our bullet proof vests, enjoyed plenty of their second biggest export, coffee, and checked out the Museum of Gold, an incredible display of pieces from all over the continent. It was time to move South again and we drove over a spectacular 4000m pass towards Cali. Spent the night in the cloud forests of Salento , the heart of Colombia´s coffee growing region. Passed through Cali the following day, climbed over the incredible Devil´s Nose, a piece of road that defies description and we soon settled into the ´White City´ of Popayan. Heavliy damaged in the 1983 earthquake, 20 years of restoration have seen the city transformed back to it´s former glory. Tranquil plazas are surrounded by cathedrals, monasteries and haciendas, the streets are clean and cobbled and the people friendly and welcoming. Colombia exceeded all expectations and even getting pullled over for a traffic violation (bribe), this time undeservedly, didn´t spoil the impression of this beautiful country. For the last 30kms of the ride we were escorted by the local touring bike club. Stopped at the frontier, shared stories and email addresses, took care of paperwork and ventured into Ecuador.

Border party


Entering the country was surprisingly easy, no bundles of paperwork common at all the other crossings and we should have suspected something was amiss as we later discovered it was. Our enthusiasm to cross without further enquiries led to some major problems later which almost cost us the bike itself. Blissfully ignorant we carried on and spent the next few days in Otavalo, famous for it´s traditional markets and friendly natives. Driving along the spine of the Andes took us through many small mountain villages where locals worked the fields in traditional dress. A few curious looks were exchanged as they stopped and watched us pass by. Soon afterwards we crossed the Equator expecting some kind of fuss or at least an acknowledgment of it´s location but we slipped by it without even noticing and were soon on the approach to Quito. Typical Latin American city, not a sign in sight so we followed our instincts and promptly got lost. Stumbled, eventually, onto the Panamericana and once again we were on our way. The next couple of days we stayed in Cuenca, a large University town to the South. Took strolls along the river past remnants of Inca temples, explored the cobbled streets and checked out the cathedrals and flower markets. Sat in the central plaza enjoying traditional music played on classical guitar and the Andean pipes until they began playing western tunes in the same style. When will people realise ´Greensleeves´ no matter what instrument is used will always sound terrible.


Bad cop, bad cop, Peru
After Cuenca we planned and early start to tackle the Peruvian frontier, always good to have a couple of hours spare just in case and on this occasion we needed them. Leaving Ecuador should have been straightforward had it not been for the fact the border official on entry had neglected to give us the correct documents. Officially the bike didn´t exist in Ecuador and Customs were threatening to seize it as an illegal import. Suspected they were after another bribe but we decided to wait this one out. Eventually the agreed to ´illegally´stamp us out of the country and let us proceed with a severe reprimand. Without the correct exit paperwork from Ecuador the Peruvian Customs were immediately suspicious. I slowly explained it was because the Ecuadorians were stupid upon which the atmosphere lightened, we all agreed and they happily gave us what we needed. The delay turned out to be a blessing as we were unable to make it past the beautiful beach town of Mancora before nightfall. A swim in the ocean to clean off the sweat and grime of the border posts, a delicious meal of fresh seafood and we collapsed exhausted, falling asleep to the sounds of the waves outside the mosquito nets. The North has been full of surprises, had expected the ´deepest, darkest Peru´ Paddington Bear described but our road has taken us through seemingly endless desert broken ocassionally by an oasis where the rivers drain the Andes. Silhouettes shimmer on the horizon hinting at what lies ahead. Spent a night in Trujillo and another in Pisco before moving inland towards Nasca. And that is where we are today, not a hotrod in sight. Stopped along the road by an observation tower but it´s impossible to get an idea of what is out there so we splurged on the flight over the desert. The scale is impossible to appreciate even from the air and there are still many divided theories as to their origin. From here we move further inland towards Cusca and Machu Pichu...

Nazca Lines, click on em if you want detail