Sunset Palermo Neighbourhood, Buenos Aires

Of course, being en retard meant that Aduana (customs) were having lunch and nothing would be processed before 2pm.  So I had time to try to hide my clothes and other non-motorcycling-related belongings (clothes, camping equipment, etc, more than half of my luggage for the trip) in my cases in the hopes that the inspector wouldn’t force me to take all of those things with me on my own flight. After disconnecting the battery terminals, lowering the tire pressure, and showing that the fuel tank was almost empty, the Aduana woman spent about 30 seconds looking at my bike (without checking the ID numbers) and then said ‘OK’.

KLR650 on pallet, aduana inspection, Buenos Aires Airport

The bike was then strapped down onto a makeshift wooden pallet, and then covered in loads of shrink-wrap plastic and picked up by a forklift and taken away – it was a big production for my bike which only has sentimental value.  While watching this I was approached by three businessmen who were taking an interest in my activities. It turned out that they run a biofuel business and are motorcyclists themselves.  The president gave me his card after talking to me for a while and asked questions about my fuel usage and said he wants to sponsor me with biofuel if I take another trip.

KLR650 wrapped for shipping, Buenos Aires Airport

Buenos Aires is a seductive city, it does indeed feel more like a European city than any others I’ve been through in the Americas – right down to the sport of trying to dodge dog crap all over the pavement.   I’ve walked an gotten lost in the Palermo area, fought the crowds in microcentro (the center), stayed out all night like the locals (the bars don’t open in many cases until midnight and aren’t full until 3am, closing at 6-9am), and caught impromptu tango in the streets of San Telmo.

Impromptu Tango in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina

And went to the Recoletta neighbourhood cemetery which contains the remains of the richer and more famous Argentines – including Eva Peron.

Recolleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires

I left it yesterday and arrived in Los Angeles, California this morning – it’s a bit of culture shock.

Sunset Palermo Neighbourhood, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires	Sunset Palermo Neighbourhood, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires
KLR650 on pallet, Buenos Aires Airport	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires	KLR650 on pallet, Buenos Aires Airport	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires
KLR650 wrapped for shipping, Buenos Aires Airport	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires	Near San Telmo, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires
San Telmo Cathedral, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires	San Telmo Cathedral, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires
San Telmo, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires	On Plaza de Mayo, Microcentro, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires
On Plaza de Mayo, Microcentro, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires	Eva Peron Memorial, Recoleta, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires
Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires	Jim and Ashley, Google Crew, Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires	Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires
Recoleta Cemetary, Buenos Aires	Good bottle	Obelisk, Microcentro, Buenos Aires, Argentina	Obelisk, Microcentro, Buenos Aires, Argentina
Impromptu Tango in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina	Impromptu Tango in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina	Impromptu Tango in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina	Impromptu Tango in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina
Impromptu Tango in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina	Impromptu Tango in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina	Impromptu Tango in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina	Impromptu Tango in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina

Passing Trains, Ollague, Chile

My plan was to leave for the much more tourist-friendly climes of the town of San Pedro De Atacama.  Having only $50 USD  and no bank machine for 200 kms,  I could only stay one more night before running out of money.  As the rain continued to fall through mid-morning with no break in sight, I decided to start my bike. I pressed the button and the starter turns but the engine won’t catch.  Seeing my trouble several of the, by now drunk, miners takes an interest and start yanking out cables under the fuel tank.  My anxiety increases as the belligerently ask each other where that cable came from and how it goes back in.  Finally an older, sober, competent mine surveyor tells me that one of three parts (spark plug cover, ignition control electronic switch, or connecting wires) is wet and starts to help me take off the side covers, seat, and finally fuel tank in order to get to the parts.

Bike Repair, Ollague, Chile

We dry the parts but the engine still doesn’t catch.   So we drain the fuel tank and he disassembles the fuel switch (off/on/reserve) and we discover that it doesn’t seem to allow liquid through.  I then remember that it only operates with the vacuum hose forcing the diaphragm open. So we re-attach everything and then drain the carburetor at his suggestion. It turns out water had entered it and so was blocking the fuel from being absorbed from the tank.  Now with the bike running and many miners taking an interest, they re-attach my front fender with spare wire through the bolt-holes.  Another one applies a missing washer to one of side panels – previously secured by duct tape.   I re-assemble my disabled side-stand kill switch mechanism while a few miners support my bike.

Mine Surveyor and Good Mechanic, Ollague, Chile

By this time it’s 5pm and the miners are telling me to stay another night and that I shouldn’t attempt crossing the snowy passes on the dirt road to San Pedro at this time.   Besides the meat is being cut-up for the parrilla (massive meat barbecue).   So I find myself standing around with 10 miners and 3 geologists (we four are the odd ones out) eating large hunks of meat and drinking wine from the shared bottles in the freezing cold, high in the Altiplano.   Despite one calling me ‘gringo’ (and being chastised by some others) and their initial hostility, I’ve now been accepted by miners as an odd but welcome addition.   The geologists gave me a huge bag of food and offered me a place to stay south of Santiago and wanted to give me money upon finding out I was running out of cash quickly.

When the sun began to set the landscape’s beauty became apparent.  Even the garbage and debris strewn outskirts of the settlement don’t somehow seem so hopeless and wasted as they did in the coastal Peruvian towns with the same mess.  It’s vast, cold, desolate but completely compelling.   I like the people of the settlement all the more for having seen the surroundings after the veil of clouds lifted.

Volcano Ollague, Ollague, Chile

Communication station,Volcano Ollague, Ollague, Chile

Cemetary, Ollague, Chile

Cordillera, Ollague, Chile

Ollague Station, Chile	Bike Repair, Ollague, Chile	Mine Surveyor and Good Mechanic, Ollague, Chile	Volcano Ollague, Ollague, Chile
Volcano Ollague, Ollague, Chile	Outskirts, Ollague, Chile	Ollague, Chile	Ollague, Chile
Volcano Ollague, Ollague, Chile	Volcano Ollague, Ollague, Chile	Bones, Ollague, Chile	Bones, Ollague, Chile
Cordillera, Ollague, Chile	Children Riding, Ollague, Chile	Ollague Skyline, Volcano Ollague, Ollague, Chile	Communication station,Volcano Ollague, Ollague, Chile
Train, Ollague, Chile	Road, Earth, Sand, and Mountains, Ollague, Chile	Cemetary, Ollague, Chile	Cemetary, Ollague, Chile
Cross, Ollague, Chile	Cemetary, Ollague, Chile	Cemetary, Ollague, Chile	Cemetary, Ollague, Chile
Cemetary, Ollague, Chile	Cemetary Entrance, Ollague, Chile	Church, Ollague, Chile	Passing Trains, Ollague, Chile
1 of 2 streets, Ollague, Chile	Ollague Morning, Chile	Ollague Morning, Chile	Ollague Morning, Chile
Ollague Morning, Chile	Ollague to Calama, Chile	Ollague to Calama,	Ollague to Calama,
Oasis of San Pedro De Atacama, Chile

Altiplano Sunset near Oruro, Bolivia

I then made the long, bumpy, and dusty drive to Uyuni.  The thin atmosphere was pressing on my chest and the constant jack-hammering effect of the washboard road surface grated on my nerves but I did see flamingos.

Flamingos, Oruro to Uyuni, Boliva

At about 3pm I rounded one final set of hills and quickly noticed the blindingly white salt flats in the distance.   I decided to not explore them right away as I was planning to drive across them the following day and needed to buy provisions as it’s known to be quite unforgiving and almost everyone only crosses them in 4×4 truck tours.  So I spent the afternoon checking into the rather depressing Hotel Avenida, buying a 20 L petrol container, 4 litters of waters, and putting half of my dinner into a plastic bag for breakfast the next morning.

Confident that I was planning as best I could for a trip through the remote Salar de Uyuni and the Atacama Desert I packed the bike at night and set the borrowed alarm for 5:45 am.  It rang as promised and I packed the final clothes into my cases and stuffed a 2 L bottle of petrol into the spare tire that I’ve been lugging around since Cuenca, Equador and woke the hotel matron to let me and my bike out.  The GPS starting bleating and I discovered a loose connection on the bike wiring – squishing it with my fingers seemed to quiet the Tamagochi.

When I arrived at 6:30 am under light rain at the only proper gas station within 200 kms or so, naturally it was closed. I weighed waiting for it to open but decided that I  could fill my new bright yellow 20 L container in San Juan (one of the two places in which to buy petrol by the bottle in the Salar and Atacama).   The rain had improved the road – no dust from passing vehicles – and more treacherous at the same time as the mud on the side became slippery.   Two buses passed me causing me to move closer to the edge, my back wheel slid down the embankment then as I over-compensated by turning the front wheel it jump back up on the road sliding the other way.  I held the bike upright, barely, much to the amusement of the 4×4 following close behind me.  A few kilometres later I noticed that the 2 L bottle of petrol carelessly loaded earlier had gone flying when the spare tire had turned over and was now hanging beside my side case instead of precariously on my top case.

By 7am I had negotiated which of the multitude of tracks crossing the Salar I should take and was cruising happily along – despite the threatening clouds in all directions except the one I was coming from.   It was then that I noticed that my speedometer never went beyond 55 km/h, it would reflect lower speeds but nothing higher.   Thinking that as long as the odometer was functioning I could still estimate how much fuel I had left I continued, until the speedometer quite unhappily slowly fell to 0 km/h and the odometer ceased to turn.  I gave up and took some photos of the Salt Flats.

Threatening Rain on Salt Piles, Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia

Salt Geometric, Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia

KLR650 Goes Salar (De Uyuni), Bolivia

Death Memorial, Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia

By the time the other side of the salt flat was visible, an uninviting cactus covered barren hill, it was starting to drizzle heavily and the sandwich bag was produced to cover the chirpy yet precious GPS.   As I drove the 30 or so kilometres over sharp rock, washboard bumps, thick sand, or slippery mud it continued to rain but for added pleasure began to snow at times.   I had dropped the bike twice (on the magically slippery mud) and my hands had become red and blue as I looked upon the sad collection of mud houses that constitute San Juan.   Four cups of Nescafe – Extra Fuerte and a long conversation with the fellow working at the lonely hotel revealed that the town only had electricity from 7pm-9pm daily.   He was worried about the impending arrival of 24 hour electricity along with internet and mobile phone service as these would change the village forever.   He claimed that currently without refrigeration they were able to eat as well as they wanted with Quinoa growing and Alpaca grazing the imperceptible desert foliage, that people went to bed early and rose with the sun, and that generally everyone was content.

I was pointed to the wizened old shop-woman on the corner who told me they were out of gasoline but a litre cost $0.90. Confused, I smelled it before helping her pour it out of giant barrel – which spilled down my jacket, and subsequently watched her siphon it expertly into used vegetable oil containers.   She then warned me about my plan to head to Laguna Colorada, saying it was not passable with mud and snow as the route climbs about 5,000 meters.   My fingers numb, gear soaking wet, and with a dawning realization of the remoteness and primitive state of the roads I wavered as this was just the kind of dissuasion I needed.  So instead of my original plan to see the lagoons at the southern border point my shop-woman drew me a map in the mud to the closer Bolivian-Chilean border of Avaroa – Ollague.   I tried to leave but my usually reliable KLR650 stalled each time I put it in gear.  This had happened once or twice in the past two days and I wasn’t worried when it started on the fifth try.

After one hour of slipping around in the freezing mud a strange noise came from the front of the bike and as I nervously looked down the front fender fell off and lay on the wheel.   I strapped it to the two fuel containers and spare tire and then discovered the bike wouldn’t remaining running when in gear at all this time. Figuring out that this was probably the switch that cuts off the power when the sidestand is down, I oiled the switch which didn’t work, and then disabled it entirely and was on my miserable way with the water, mud, and stones now flying up in my face from the front wheel.

Front Fender falls off in a mini-Salar, Bolivia

The scenery improved as the road conditions deteriorated into giant pools of water covering slippery mud.   Some brief moments of respite from the rain showed giant glaciated peaks of some of the highest mountains in the Americas.

Snow Peaks, Nearing Ollague, Chile

Dark Hills, Nearing Ollague, Chile

After passing through some of the water pools the motor coughed and spluttered to a stop and wouldn’t start. I began to get really worried and started looking around at the inhospitable snow dusted hills for what might be an appropriate place to camp.  As I was reading the manual and preparing to remove the fuel tank to look at the spark plug a trio of 4×4′s containing bewildered foreign tourists passed by honking and waving at me.   I waited another five minutes, wondering if I had just seen my last help for the night drive away, and tried the starter and the bike came grumbling to life. I’m not sure if it’s bad fuel, the mud and water now spraying the engine, or a myriad of other possible causes.

Fenderless KLR650 Not Starting in the Mud, San Juan, Bol

After another 40 minutes with the bike stalling occasionally I finally spotted the border and arrived like a dirty alien at the Chilean border to the amusement of the migration policeman.   The ‘short’ and eventful drive from Uyuni to Ollague ended at 5:29 pm – 10 hours and 53 minutes to cover 225 kilometres.

Bienvenida a la Frontera, Ollague, Chile

Uyuni, Bolivia to Ollague, Chile Distance and Elevation Profile

Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia	Altiplano Sunset near Oruro, Bolivia	Altiplano Sunset near Oruro, Bolivia	Oruro to Uyuni, Boliva
Oruro to Uyuni, Boliva	Oruro to Uyuni, Boliva	Flamingos, Oruro to Uyuni, Boliva	Flamingos, Oruro to Uyuni, Boliva
Red Earth, Oruro to Uyuni, Boliva	First Salt Flat View, Uyuni, Boliva	Another KLR650 Photo, Almost at Uyuni, Bolivia	First Salt Flat View, Uyuni, Boliva
Threatening Rain on Salt Piles, Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia	Salt Piles, Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia	KLR650 Goes Salar (De Uyuni), Bolivia	Death Memorial, Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia
Endless Salt, Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia	Salt Hexagons, Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia	Cactus, Near Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia	Mini-Salar en-route to Chile, Bolivia
Wet, Cold, Muddy, Scrub, Bolivia	Front Fender falls off in a mini-Salar, Bolivia	Snowy hills, Bolivia	Fenderless KLR650 Not Starting in the Mud, San Juan, Bol. to Ollague, Chile
Snow Peaks, Nearing Ollague, Chile	Snow Peaks, Nearing Ollague, Chile	Snow Peaks, Nearing Ollague, Chile	Snow Peaks, Nearing Ollague, Chile
Cold-Tired, Nearing Ollague, Chile	Bienvenida a la Frontera, Ollague, Chile

GPX track: Oruro to Salar de Uyuni to Avaroa – Ollague, Chile

Crossing the Salar De Uyuni on a motorcycle or own vehicle, useful links:

• Horizon’s Unlimited Discussion and GPS Coordinates for the Salar and Tourist Sites

• Google Map showing points on the Salar
• Most useful. Garmin GDB file from someone on the H.U. site: Salar Uyuni From HU User.gdb

Not For Highway Use, Duro Knobby Tire

Chessi and I got out of Cuenca the following day heading  to Vilcabamba.  The road climbed to about 3500m and kept threatening rain but we kept avoiding it.   Nice views and nice empty winding road as it passed through very dusty and remote towns heading south through Ecuador.   These blowtorched pigs in the process of being scraped made for an entertaining stop – the first time I’ve taken photos of people without asking first.

Blowtorch and Scraped Pigs, Before Loja, Ecuador

The road was dramatic as it descended into a desert canyon and then climbed out the other side – we decided to stage a riding photo – without much success.

Cuenca to Loja, Ecuador

Staged Corner, Above Loja, Ecuador

We arrived at Hotel Izhcayluma where we had a double bed room for $12 USD each. The hotel is more of a resort (with bar, pool table, ping-pong table, restaurant) on the hills overlooking Vilcabamba – highly recommended.   The setting in a valley is beautiful with an excellent climate and both Chessi and I wished we had spent less time in Cuenca and Banos and more time there. The town and people aren’t even spoiled by tourism (yet!).

Main Plaza Vilcabamba, Ecuador

Church Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador

We left Vilcabamba with the best intentions of reaching the Peru-Ecuador border crossing of Las Balsas and beyond to Chachapoyas, Peru (well I did – Chessi was already skeptical we would make it).  When we left town the road quickly degraded with construction projects delaying our way and then climbing into a cloud forest with the requisite rain, mud, giant holes, waterfalls, and washouts.  We passed a touring group of about 5 bikers (possibly German) on Africa Twin bikes. They looked fatigued as they asked about the rest of the road from where we had come.

Leaving Vilcabamba for Zumba, Ecuador

The road descended into a valley and followed the river along dramatically steep sides sun, rain, heat, and humidity.  As I rounded yet another corner to face yet another barking and bike-chasing dog, my back wheel slid out in a deep rut of mud and the dog latched onto my leg and despite wearing thick riding trousers over jeans, punctured the skin on my ankle.  I shook off the dog and furiously yelled at it.  It cowered from Chessi as he rounded the corner behind me.

Muddy towards Zumba, Ecuador

We arrived in Zumba to find it another 1 hour to the Peruvian border at Las Balsas on a crap road that the Lonely Planet said was a 10 minute bus ride. When we arrived at 6pm (about 10 hours motorcycle ride from Vilcabamba) at the Las Balsas border the Ecuadorian border people were apparently playing beach volleyball by the river.  Others appeared and asked me for a cigarette and processed out personal and bike exit papers within minutes.  We then drove across a grass covered bridge into Peru where we were greeted by a slick Peruvian Migracion fellow sporting shorts and a t-shirt.  He did our entry for 90 days and asked for $1 USD each – when Chessi asked he said it was for all the children of Peru.   Then we went to Aduana (customs) for the bike import papers.  This was manned by a deaf old codger who we had to dictate the various pieces of information from our licenses and bike papers.  He took 1 hour to do the paper work – which we ended up filling out ourselves.  He told me to sign the back and after I did told me sternly that if I overstayed my visa the bike belonged to Peru – I laughed and he re-iterated it belonged to Peru.

Aduana Idiot, La Balsa, Peru

We spent the night just across the border in a mostly horrid town of Namballe, where the locals stared and talked about us while we were standing in front of them – the recompense may have been the moldy room and beds for $2.50 USD each.  Determinedly, we left town at 7:50am to get to Chachapoyas (a touristy town in the Eastern Andes of Northeast Peru).  The route took about 10 hours – multiple construction sites after Jaen and 4 hours of drill-like stones and mud beforehand from the Peruvian border.  The highlight was the majestic canyon that exists for 1.5 hours driving before Chachapoyas – unfortunately I was too tired and worried about running out of gasoline (we hadn’t changed enough money) to take pictures – will probably retrace our route to Jaen anyway in two days.

Towards Jaen, Amazon River, Peru

Chachapoyas, Peru

Not For Highway Use, Duro Knobby Tire	Leaving Vilcabamba for Zumba, Ecuador	Cuenca to Loja, Ecuador	Leaving Vilcabamba for Zumba, Ecuador
Cuenca to Loja, Ecuador	Leaving Vilcabamba for Zumba, Ecuador	Cuenca to Loja, Ecuador	Leaving Vilcabamba for Zumba, Ecuador
Cuenca to Loja, Ecuador	Leaving Vilcabamba for Zumba, Ecuador	Cuenca to Loja, Ecuador	Leaving Vilcabamba for Zumba, Ecuador
Blowtorch and Scraped Pigs, Before Loja, Ecuador	Vilcabamba for Zumba, Ecuador	Blowtorch and Scraped Pigs, Before Loja, Ecuador	Muddy Boots towards Zumba, Ecuador
	Muddy towards Zumba, Ecuador	Staged Corner, Above Loja, Ecuador	Muddy towards Zumba, Ecuador
Staged Corner, Above Loja, Ecuador	Muddy towards Zumba, Ecuador	Staged Corner, Above Loja, Ecuador	Muddy towards Zumba, Ecuador
Staged Corner, Above Loja, Ecuador	Muddy towards Zumba, Ecuador	Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Muddy towards Zumba, Ecuador
Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Towards Zumba, Ecuador	Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Towards Zumba, Ecuador
Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Towards Zumba, Ecuador	Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Towards Zumba, Ecuador
Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Towards Zumba, Ecuador	Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Towards Zumba, Ecuador
Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Zumba, Ecuador	Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Zumba, Ecuador
Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Church Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Church Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador
Church Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Church Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador	Leaving Vilcabamba for Zumba, Ecuador	Church Above Vilcabamba, Ecuador
Zumba Love!, Ecuador	Zumba, Ecuador	Outside Zumba, Ecuador	Outside Zumba, Ecuador
La Balsa, Ecuador Peru Border	Aduana Idiot, La Balsa, Peru	Outside Nambullo, Peru	Towards Jaen, Amazon River, Peru
Towards Jaen, Amazon River, Peru	Towards Jaen, Amazon River, Peru	Towards Jaen, Amazon River, Peru	Construction, Towards, Chachapoyas, Peru
Construction, Towards, Chachapoyas, Peru	Construction, Towards, Chachapoyas, Peru	Construction, Towards, Chachapoyas, Peru	Construction, Towards, Chachapoyas, Peru
Construction, Towards, Chachapoyas, Peru	Construction, Towards, Chachapoyas, Peru	Chachapoyas, Peru

Cuenca to Vilcabamba, Ecuador to Las Balsas and Chachapoyas, Peru GPX Tracks

New (left) and old (right) mount

I took the bike to a second mechanic – an authorized Kawasaki one to be sure about the state of the engine after running out of oil upon arrival in Puerto Vallarta.  He revved the engine for a few minutes and then told me it would require adjusting the valve clearance which would stop the ticking noise and also that the cam lobe would need to be adjusted.  I wouldn’t need any new parts and it would take a day and cost about $1,000 pesos (< $100 CDN) and that I can drive it – “But don’t return to Canada” with a sarcastic grin.

The second part of the morning was spent eating two fish tacos at the taco stand in the neighbourhood and taking my snapped GPS mount to a soldering shop just near the taco stand.   He wasn’t able to solder the snapped aluminum plate and bolt back to the bolt atttached to the rubber ball. So he looked around at the scrap metal all over the place and pickup up a flat piece of metal, a metal rod, and a metal ball of the approximate size and proceeded to cut the rod to one inch, drill two screw holes in the flat metal, cut the flat metal and bend it to go around the handlebar on the bike, and soldered the ball and plate to the ends of the cut rod.

For $100 pesos  (< $10 CDN) and in 35 minutes he had manufactured (from scrap) a replacement mount for less than the cost of the mass produced original and did it happily, on the spot, without any extra waiting on my part.  This was my second experience with metalworking shops in Mexico and if anything happens to my bike mechanically I want it to be in Mexico where the workmen are far better than in Canada or the US.

Beached Mum, San Francisco, MX

Near Cathedral, PV, MX	Jacarrandas Flat, PV, MX	Fruit, PV	Beach Mum, San Francisco, MX
San Francisco, MX	New (left) and old (right) mount (left)	Services of PV, MX	Winding Staircase
Stairwell	Mum Above Olas Atlas	Rio Cuale, PV, MX	Cathedral PV
	Sand Sculptures Apparently	Man in a tree

Puerto Vallarta to Punta Mita, San Pancho, MX

It makes a noise like this other person’s KLR: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hP5QbE6QDzU

——————————————–

Update: I went back to the bike after waiting for an hour with the drunken street party outside the rental  for the drunk superintendant to find the keys.  Another liter of oil, waited five minutes and then it started.  It stalled again when put in first but then worked the second time. There is what I think is engine knocking and it backfires now and stalled again. However I made it up the hill to the hotel so I´m feeling much better that it´s not totally wrecked and may turn out OK.

——————————————–

Feeling Ill in Puerto Vallarta

I had bought two litres of oil in San Blas and was going to change the oil on the bike as it’s been 6000km so is overdue. I thought I’d do it outside the rental apartment in Puerto Vallarta.

So I drove the 2 hours to P.V. today and got within four blocks of the hotel to check where I was and how to get to the rental apartment. When I left the bike just stalled in an unfamiliar way. So I got off and checked for spraying liquids, cracks, broken cables etc and found nothing. Then tipped the bike to look at the oil guage which looked normal. On closer inspection there was a permanent mark that I had thought was the oil level but was just something on the gauge window.  There was no oil in the bike at all. I’ve added a liter but the bike still wouldn’t turn over the engine at all.

I think I’ve seized it and feel quite sick and stupid about the whole thing.   When I can get into the apartment I’ll be looking for a mechanic but I’m not expecting this to work out very well.

Temporary Office

Trying to Enjoy Post Bike Failure

Jungle North of Puerto Vallarta

Jungle North of Puerto Vallarta

Temporary office

Trying to enjoy post-bike failure

San Blas to Puerto Vallarta, MX

Leftover aircraft aluminum, bent, drill-pressed, dremmelled, and sprayed with auto underbody rubberized coating.   Towtronics (ebay UK) waterproof marine socket.  Mounted on the three windscreen bolts.

Garmin and Ram Mount