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Old 11-29-2010, 11:00 AM   #1
klous-1 OP
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Tales from the Saddle


Mennonites - Bolivia:
31 Jan 2015


Tales from the Saddle Website

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With a heavy heart and a churning stomach I left home alone on my Yamaha YBR 125, fears and anxieties of the long journey ahead, to Cape Town first. Having never ridden a motorcycle before the thought of getting even a simple puncture was terrifying.(....I'm on puncture number 76 now...or is it 77?)

Despite my worries I managed to savour Europe slowly, where in Albania I got to experience my first ever dirt roads along the Mediterranean coast, I was hooked....

I was shot at in Turkey,

interrogated by the military on Christmas eve in Syria,

tailed and arrested in Egypt (who isn't though!),

crossed Ted Simons Atbara Desert in Sudan,

underwent surgery in Kenya,

accused of being a cow thief in Tanzania,

Crossed still-flooded flood plains in Zambia,

Enjoyed the delights of Namibia,

before finally reaching my first goal after eleven months; Table Mountain, Cape Town.

All of this, alone, on about $5-10 a day, on a Yamaha YBR 125. (I ride a Honda XR125L now).

And its not over yet!

Now I'm in the Americas, starting from San Francisco, USA heading Ushuaia....and you can read about it here (soon, when I've written it!) but you can also view the website where there are a myriad of photos, tasty tales and of course the ubiquitous map with a line on it.

You can also follow on facebook

I hope that some people find enjoyment in reading about it, and if not tell me why as I'd like to improve my writing, and photography too, so please give me some pointers as I'd really appreciate them!

Until later,

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Old 11-29-2010, 04:24 PM   #2
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You gotta love the gas mileage of that 125...

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Old 11-29-2010, 05:02 PM   #3
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Hiya Nick, just checked out the website and the pics from Africa look stunning. What an incredible place to ride. Weren't you scared of any lions or anything camping out like that?

Anyhow, I wish you all the best for the trip through the Americas, and what a perfect bike for the job. Safe travelling my friend.
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Old 11-29-2010, 09:28 PM   #4
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$5 a day, dirt roads RTW on a 125cc

Ride on dude! Excellent adventure!

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Old 11-30-2010, 03:43 AM   #5
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Wow, you almost slipped under the radar!! Now that you've given us a teaser, let's get some more details and updates on your Americas journey. Thanks for the link to your blog.
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Old 11-30-2010, 08:40 AM   #6
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What an excellent teaser! I'm looking forward to reading more and following along.
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Old 11-30-2010, 08:53 AM   #7
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Not until they come....

Originally Posted by nathanthepostman
Hiya Nick, just checked out the website and the pics from Africa look stunning. What an incredible place to ride. Weren't you scared of any lions or anything camping out like that?

Anyhow, I wish you all the best for the trip through the Americas, and what a perfect bike for the job. Safe travelling my friend.
I was always more scared of people. I met people who knew before I arrived that I was coming as they received calls from the chief of the previous village...and had already informed the next chief.....the power of the cell phone, even in Africa most people have one!

A very large majority of the big game animals are actually - to my quite vague knowledge - behind park fences, to protect them from poachers, and their habitat, though I was warned a few times about lions.

One animal I tried repeatedly to see was elephants and somehow I didnīt....telling someone my route in Namibia who had a lot of experience seeing game, he couldn't believe it! I didnīt have the money to pay the large entry fees and after seeing other animals outside camp or by chance on a small road I found this more spectacular than paying - and therefore expecting - to see animals. I guess I have a reason to go back!

But, you canīt take the bike into those parks with lions of course!
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Old 12-04-2010, 01:39 PM   #8
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There's a new blog post and photos on the the Tales from the saddle some point I'll write it here too!....



Sorry I don't have time to write here....but I will soon...
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Old 01-23-2011, 12:38 PM   #9
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Mexico Part 2.....January 22nd 2011

I'll skip part one, on account of being lazy and having little internet here's part deux....

It was time to leave the fabulous Colima. I loved this place, for it's complete lack of tourist garb, it's pleasant cafes, plazas and it's comfortable safety...and perhaps too for my fabulous hosts; Ernesto and Lea and other friendly people; those at Koki Moto and especially the great Sigi Pablo and his girlfriend Kaiko. But it was time to leave and, as always I find it hard to leave the comforts of 'regular' life.

"Don't stay too long in Michoacan." Lea said as I hopped back in to the saddle of a rejuvinated - after his work at Koki Moto - Rudolf. I didn't really know where Michoacan was, or if I was going there...I was off to some volcano as far as I knew and so didn't ask questions...perhaps I should have?

Soon enough I reach the volcano, it seemed nice enough here and wondered what Lea was talking about, the interesting mountain village of Angang the jumping off point to see what remains of the old village, now buried beneath a thick crust of lava. I deny the caberallo his offer of a horse wanting to stretch my legs out of the saddle, with a hike, peacefully through the forest and over the outer limits of lava glimpsing as I approach the church poking up half-buried in the black bubbled rubble, as if it's God against Nature.

Higher in to the mountains still I go, to view the Monarch Butterfly migration at over 3000m. Waking stiff and cold in the morning in a nearby forest, my heart is warmed by a young man, his son and their ever increasing number of rabid dogs, out together collecting tree sap, providing me with half their breakfast and despite my best efforts won't have a cup of my coffee! I don't say anything about them killing EVERY single tree for their sap.

The butterflies were a disappointment. Too few, in a dark patch of forest, nothing like I'd been told or imagined and I leave being hounded still by the horsemen and guides...perhaps the wrong time of the migration.

Then, having visited the towns of Patzcuaro and Morelia where I'm requested to return most hastily to England, though not quite so formally by the locals, I find myself at a car accident, a bus, smouldering still....then another and another, still ablaze, a truck shot out and on the horizon more and more fires, the air thick with black smoke, the army and police all around. Something is afoot.

I ask someone what's going on, how can I make progress on the roads in my best Spanish, which I realise quickly isn't up to much, when he replies,

"I don't know what the f$%! you just said, why don't you talk do speak English....want some gear?"

"No thanks, just directions..."

I realise I'm actually in Michoacan and all starts to become clear - more so later when I read that one of the main druglords has been shot - and I try my best to leave the state, following other cars down little tracks and through fields doing the same...trying to get around the road blocks, trying to get out of Michoacan.

I have some time to spare before a meeting in Mexico City and so pop up to view the wonderful subterranean labyrinths of Guanajuato, a long detour but worth the trip and a visit with another kind farmer who lets me camp on his beautiful land near the city.

It's another cold night at altitude on my way to the big city, kept awake and then woken by a non-stop barrage of fireworks, commemorating or celebrating Saint Augustine or something....the road is quiet to Mexico City though as most everyone has driven off the road in a drunken stupor and I meet a chirpy Garry Dymond, whom I plan to stay with for four days before catching up with Adam for Christmas.

Two weeks later I leave, having realised that meeting Adam ( is a bit beyond the realms of even Rudolf's quick feet and Christmas on his mind. Alas, I got to spend it with the fabulous Garry and his equally fabulous wife, Ivonne as well as fellow motorcyclists Rob and Duncan, of Top chaps and great cooks both of them and Christmas dinner - served at midnight on Christmas eve.... well a little bit earlier; we were getting hungry - a gastronomic delight, but despite it's true excellence, twas not quite as good as my mum's!!!...there's just no pleasing some folk.

Staying with Garry was a true delight, staying in his house that once stood amongst pine trees on the edge of the city, has since been gobbled up by the growing millions of inhabitants and so gone is the dirt track and donkeys and instead is replaced by the 43 bus route and graffitti world....and a pretty good "panadaria."

"You live in the SLUM!" someone said...actually I think it was Garry...and actually it was fantastic...behind the safety of Garry's 'tagged' gate that is...

no really it was top! Garry is previously of the UK and so the food was tremendous....cottage pie, lasagne, apple pie, steak, chips....and toad in the hole and chocolate brownies made by yours truly (with no assistance from Aunt Bessie). I left weighing the 300lbs I started the trip on.

Soon though it's time again to leave those lovely comforts and hit the road though not before one last meal, a lunch of homemade gorditas - my Mexican favourite, made just for me by Ivonne!

I head off feeling extremely lucky to have met Garry and Ivonne...a meeting I am in great debt to the world for....and I consider that I have to earn some worldly brownie points soon, before something catastrophic happens.

Alas, it's too late, high up in the Sierra Gorda all movement ceases and Rudolf literally grinds to a halt....on closer inspection I discover that the bearings in the rear wheel have been sneakily replaced by pieces of tin foil.

Then my key snaps....

Standing waiting for a truck to help me out, a man in a VW Jetta - itself held together with string and wire - stops and is quick to tell me that unless I can get to Ciudad Valles myself, I'll be in for a very long wait, for there won't be any trucks this way.

So I strap the wheel together, completely without bearings

....and tot off a bit gingerly up the road with the VW shadowing me behind - even gingerlier - in his motorised ball of string.

Geoff (or whatever his name was) stops and tightens down the wire holding down his bonnet, signifying that we've made the first 15km to the main road, now for the fast stuff, 25km more to the city so he tells me and I give him an optimistic thumbs up, the wheel having only fallen apart once so far. But I lose Geoff in the obstacle course of "topes" (speed bumps), though I wait for him I assume he got bored and stopped for a cerveza and I carry on to Valles alone, where the wheel gives out again, though this time rather timely; outside the Suzuki garage. New bearings are made and only a few hours later I'm back on the road...I was expecting a lengthy stop in the city of days or weeks, waiting for parts! I start wondering if these very helpful people have just tipped the balance of debt I owe to the world irredeemably even further.....

Back on the road, and looking out for black cats, ladders, tipping balances and gun-touting druglords, I head to Sir James' garden...a highly bizarre and interesting house he built while most likely off his rocker on drugs as it is most peculiar and then a visit to the SPECTACULAR waterfalls in the area, reached only by rowing boat, 4km, upstream in a boat made for 12 sturdy fellas. Though for me it's just myself and my ample guide Celestino. We slogged our way up to the falls, earning several blisters....but it was worth it...105m high of emerald waters, and truly special.

Sr James Edwards gaff.....

"Those boats are ginormous!" said David, "El Gringo" in his bike shop in Matlapa. Obviously looking worse for wear after the mighty effort, he buys me superb breakfast from a beautiful woman, wrapped in banana leaves and cooked in an earth oven...the breakfast...not the woman. David, thanks, you're a top chap!

On I go, out of the jungle, through the cloud forest - where I get to see the inner workings of a cloud close up! - and then into desert! what a landscape! Alas, there are no photos as the camera was soaked days previous exploring some caves....which, it turns out, were rubbish....and full of water.

I need more parts for Rudolf, and email my contact in Mexico City....then I spend all day lost in the city trying to find the place eventually doing so only to discover it is infact a completely different Yamaha store to that which I wrote to!....luckily they are top chaps Cuajimalpa and start taking apart a showroom bike to fix up Rudolf before they nip home for the weekend....Thanks GREATLY to them for helping me out at short notice and goign to such great lengths for me!

The balance is really tipping now and I ride along on tenderhooks....death must come soon, or maybe a sharp blow to my head....another cold night is all I get, and a still deflating thermarest, 22 punctures and counting - damn you cactus! - but a great visit to Volcan de Toluca and it's lakes, where Rudolf splutters at the altitude

....and then on down to the Pacific coast to revive him and me, north of Acapulco to collect a sleeping bag from Uri and Jackie, friends of Rob's whom I met in Mexico City.

Alng the way through the Sierras again,

in a tiny village I meet an old lady hosing the dirt and ask her where I can find tortillas....soon she returns with freshly made tortillas, and then offers me a coke....and then her nephew comes to chat too, Oscar....great chap, who "wants to give me something for the road" and gives me a cake and two packets of chips!!

Because of all the kindness goign around I'm getting anxious and seeing a boy and old lady with a puncture tire I stop to repair it....I get no thanks and feel a bit disappointed...peraps that's how it's supposed to be, perhaps it's more selfless this way, I shouldn't expect so much....

Then Ireach the beach and my new sleeping bag.....As I pack the new bag away on the bike Uri comes over...

"Nick, we all think it's best if you stay the night, have dinner with us, have breakfast....unless....that have somewhere to be?"
"Are you serious!? Oh, that would be fantastic! I could hug you!!"
Uri mumbles and "OK" and so I hug him.

In the morning, after breakfast, Uri comes over again
"Nick, we think it's best if you stay today too, I mean if you want to and have nowhere to go?"
My reply was much blunter "Sounds good to me."

This was repeated, and repeated, and finally I have to leave for Oaxaca....where getting very worried about the tipping balance, I stop and help people, give them lifts, fix their punctures and try and be really nice....who knows what lurks....?

Now I must decide whether to race on south and skip the Yucatan, or obviously visit the Yucatan as I think I may have had my fix of Mexico, three months has perhaps been enough and I'm already thinking about exploring dirt roads in the Andes.

A special thanks to Uri and Jackie for letting me stay and bringign over a sleeping bag, Garry and Ivonne a very special thanks for letting me spend a wonderful Christmas with you, it really felt like home.
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Old 02-16-2011, 11:00 AM   #10
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Mexico the Finale....Feb 16th 2011

The End of Mexico......

Like the man said, "you've gotta stay for lunch!" So I did. Uri's kind charm and Augustine's great "ceviche," (a shrimp dish "cooked" with lemon juice) hard to resist, though this does make for a rather tardy departure of 3pm! Not only that but the first thing I must do is find a welder to fix my rear rack! Completed I must go to the "mercado" and stock up...and then finally, 20 miles down the road from Uri's, look for camp!

Then I commence three days of the most boring riding ever, entertained along the way only by the left signal light antics of the Mexicans, do they mean they are turning left, or are they saying I can pass (a risky prospect if one is true!) or are they just about to embark on some undreamt of manouver and are infact using their hazard lights and are just missing between one and three bulbs?!

Receiving a free tire! Needless to say; it was a long ride to Oaxaca that had me contemplating if all my time in Mexico wasn't actually too much time....and money. But things change fast and soon new exciting glimpses of culture are popping up; a strange market, kind people, more freebies including a free tire in Oaxaca from the great peeps at Maxima Motos (mentioned in more detail in a previous post).

With the guys there having tipped my ever biased balance of good and bad (discussed in Mexico Part two) I head off with anxiety, eyes flitting left and right for signs of trouble, trouble finds me three minutes after leaving the garage, in the form of a puncture. Well, look on the bright side, the balance is levelled....or is it?

Fixing punctures in the shops light It's a little after 4pm and people come to their doorways to watch the gringo repair his bike and I sit in one shop chatting with the owner as I frantically do battle with the tire and tube anxious to get to a camp spot....and in a rush I make the novice mistake of pinching the tube with my tire lever....and then I do it again, and again and, just to confirm that yes, I am a novice, I do it again.

And just once more.

Samuel tucks into his dinner Making for a total of twelve holes and lots of tire removals and refits and pumping. Finally at 9pm I think I have it sorted and the shop owner heaves his own sigh of relief that he can now go home for the night. However, all is not finished, the balance is still tipped towards "Good," with a tire pressing gently on "Evil"....I can't seat the tire. No problem, there is a tire repair shop nearby and ride over gingerly and ask Samuel, the owner, if I can use his compressor. Samuel has spent 30 years fixing tires and by the looks of it it is taking its tole, he flits from one job to the next and I fear that the vulcanizing fluids and rubber cement have destroyed a few brain cells. A long story but at 12am I am in his van on the way to dinner, he stabs at the dash looking for a button to turn off the hazard lights, beeping his horn at all passing vehicles, and then blasts out some music and tells me we're amigos. Then, after a great dinner of giant Oaxacan tortilla whose name I've forgotten, I am slipping into my sleeping bag below his bed in his dog filled, pee stenched home of one room.

Samuel's house. "Just hit the rats off your face if they come..." he mumbles as he rolls over to sleep. I lie there with a look of grim reality etched on my face, trying to fall asleep, to the sound of his three dogs; Van Gogh, Anne Frank and Berk (the blue plastercine fella from the infamous British kids TV show "The Trap Door") going potty, wondering where the rats are....feels like a prison, and I contemplate that it's not the prison that makes you crazy but the other inmates....what with Van chewing the lower part of his left ear lobe, Anne just sitting silent in the dark and Berks booming inner voice and strange bark with a Cornish accent.....umm, maybe this joke needs more thought.

Regrdless, I got naff-all sleep.

In the morning I help Sam feed the dogs, tossing the food down on the ground as one feeds birds, alas in ones house and then walk up the street to fetch water from a dank well for a "shower." The water from the well is blacker than a gorilla's armpit and after "washing" my hands, I thank Samuel and him farewell.

Oaxacan streets, hammocks for sale I spend some time in Oaxaca, a nice place with busy plazas and clean streets and ncie templos and iglesas, as well as the archealogical site Mont Alban and with a good camp nearby I'm able to visit and leave daily to camp.

One evening on my way back to camp, I notice a small stadium set up in one village and stop to ask what's going on. I speak with a member of the band, he plays a ginormous bass brass instrument that curves over his head and goes BOMM, Bomm, BOMM, Bomm.....he tells me inbetween bomms that there is a rodeo on afterwards and after buyign a tasty bun I sit inside with a hoarde of sadistic Mexicans drinking moonshine from a upturned cut off coke bottle top, watching silly fellas get pummelled by big dopey looking cows, top stuff.

About to get pummeled....

Jilberto, a local farmer I then headed to the mountains nearby for a hike in the Pueblos Mancomunados, where I was greeted by the fabulous Zava, who bought me bread and went beyond helpful in putting
up with my "I really don't want a guide" requests. Zava gives me a walkie-talkie, just to make sure I don't get lost and with his two big hunks of bread I head off in to the rural villages, mountains and valleys and talk to locals like Jilberto, who grows potatoes and maize and likes it there as it is safe and there is no music!

Duncan awakes at camp The next day I descend back down the mountains to meet with Duncan whom I had previously met at Garry's in Mexico City. Duncan and I had planned an exploration of Chiapas and we start the day looking at our respective maps and bits and pieces we've scribbled on them, Duncan pointing out a few things from his guide book and me pointing out a few roads of zero note and zero tarmac. And with that, we head to the dirt where we meet local mezcal brewers....

Mezcal mule, grinds down the roasted piņa Mezcal is an alcaholic drink produced in a similar way to tequilla, using the piņa (very large bulb) of the blue agave plant. After a few sups of the nasty stuff we hit the road again and head into the cloud of the cloud forest, thick fog, damp mud and small villages the order of the day, where people come to gorp, run away, dropped jaws that sort of thing. In one sleepy village, where the only past-time seems to be watching it pass Duncan and I chat with the locals.

"What'd he say?" asks Duncan as I return to put on my helmet.
"I think he said the road's closed."
"Yeah, but the kid reckons we can do it on the bikes no problem."
"Oh, okay then."
"They always say that though, they think the bikes are magic carpets or something."

Duncan, up in the cloud drenched forest We continue on, carving a path through the thick fog, the strip of red dirt road immediately out front all one can see beyond Rudolf's red nose, to the sides the mountain drops sharply into errie misty depths giving a sense of claustrophobia....a desire to get out of it before camp.

In the next village our fears are somewhat confirmed.

"The road is closed," says a local couple who come out to see what the noise is on the street (two gringos on bikes), "but," he continues "you'll make it on the bikes. He also mentions something about "derrumbes," and "mucho" and I ask Duncan if Derrumbe is Spanish for "magic carpet," it's not, it means "landslide".

Beaten...or are we...? The road turns to thick wet mud which claws at the wheels and feet as we paddle our way through, no people or homes now, no vehicles, no tracks even, save one motorcycle tire tread which gives us hope and we call the rder "Mad Max." We cross some minor landslides and with each think "this is what the locals must have meant," but it only gets worse, and we have huge puddles and mounds of sticky red mud to navigate and dig to make a path, until eventually at the end of the daylooking for camp we reach a huge obstacle, a tall powerful waterfall that has washed away the road.

"Well, we're not getting across that!" I say, and start setting up camp right there on the road, safe in the knowledge that they'll be no other vehicles coming this way.

In the morning, contemplating our position and the thought that maybe we can just make it across the waterfall, all whilst hovering over my freshly dug toilet, I am greeted by three men; an old fella wielding a machete and his two sidekicks Smith and Wesson (odd names for Mexicans I know), who were wielding rather large shiny rifles.

"No passer!" says the old fella.
"No kidding," I say.
"You return?"
"There are landslides!"
"How many?"
"How far is the town?"
"Ooooooh, it's very far!"
"Possible on the bikes?"
He thinks for a moment, "yeah."
"No problemo then!"

And he trots off to hunt jaguars or something else he shouldn't be.

Packed up Duncan and I set to work on the rocky falls and carve and chisel away a path across, we carry our gear over and with a bit of help from each other, get both bikes across.

"Let's just hope THAT was what the locals were talking about!" I say.

Duncan navigating one of many "derrumbes." We follow the huge channels cut by the torrent of water down the track, around the corner to another derrumbe. Get off the bikes, inspect it on foot, make renovations where necessary, walk back, ride it, walk back, help Duncan by pushing him and holding him as he has me and Rudolf.

Ride another 200m, repeat. I ride along terrified what the next corner might bring, will we have to turn back....surely not, all those derrumbes we've crossed, all that mud and fog....but again we find a way through and again. And so on, until eventually at 12pm, having covered a glorious

1 mile ,

The booby prze, a marmalade tortilla. we reach an impassable derrumbe, a huge landslide with a gaping void of infinite depth barring the way to the other side and with the village within earshot, we must give up, and return. Not before a ruddy good marmalade tortilla. "The booby prize." I say to Duncan, "The Marmalade of Defeat," just in case he wasn't feeling downbeat enough.

Then we have to ride all the way back.

We decide to then head to Puerto -escondido, where Duncan's brother and sister are staying for a short while, taking a beautiful route through the agave field strewn mountains, getting interrogatted in one village by an angry mob of drunken men and their village President on a Sunday afternoon - making a sharp exit.

Nick and Rudolf, dominate the dirt....

From Puerto Escondido we head east along the coast, where I'm a little ill and we camp out on the beach for a few days to recoop. I spend my time fighting a losing battle to get shade whilst Duncan whittles his time away walking the 5miles of empty beach looking for egg laying turtles, finding only dead ones and nests emptied of their eggs by local poachers. Though we did see one live baby turtle scampering into the heavy surf at Puerto Escondido, a magical sight I must say!

One of many lovely people we met along the way From here, visiting markets and fishing villages, great people, great photo opportunities and crazy towns make for interesting days before we reach the coffee plantations of Chiapas where we meet even more fantastic people, all happy to pose for pictures, laughing and joking as they work, a happy place to be it seems.

Get my coffee! Punk!
With Duncans drive chain starting to fall to bits it was time to call an end to our time together, he heads back to Oaxaca and I will head into Guatemala in aday or two.....once I've updated this pesky website!

klous-1 screwed with this post 02-16-2011 at 11:16 AM
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Old 03-11-2011, 10:39 AM   #11
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Sorry everyone....

Not really working out with the pics this time...they're all the wrong size but I'll be damned if Im redoing it to view it at the website really

There's also a video blog there too!
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Old 04-01-2011, 12:46 PM   #12
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Location: Mex City
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We had Aldous, a Canadian guy who was here with Adam, come back. He left his bike for 2 weeks and went off on a bus trip with his uncle. He then came back for a couple of days and then rode north.
We had a French Canadian guy who was on his way back from Ushuia leave his bike, a KTM, for 4 or 5 days. He stayed in a hotel downtown as he didn't want to waste time on the 43 bus.
Apart from that we have been pretty quiet.
Perhaps if we charged we'd get more people. We could market it as a stay in the "Real Mexico City" where you have to be fearless if you want to survive.
I had the stator rewound and also got a new battery, I'll pick them up next week as work is now a bit hectic.
Safe travels
__________________ Mexico City's Free Motorcycle Resort
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Old 04-08-2011, 06:14 PM   #13
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Parts received at last!

Finally I have the new parts....mainly all the ones I broke trying to fix an imaginary problem....maybe tomorrow will be the day Iget to push the start's hoping (and speaking to soon says my inner voice....)

Must dash....banana sarnis to make....
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Old 04-09-2011, 03:17 PM   #14
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No way Jose

My dad once said, actually he said it numerous times, that if I didn't have bad luck I'd have no luck....

But of course I am on my trip and can't really agree but, the new part was faulty....meaning for another dismantling....Ian laughed rather heartily when I pointed out that the part had been manufactured with an oversized hole and no thread as I twiddled the screw and slipped it in and out for effect before hanging my head in disbelief....

Oh well, there's always tomorrow....
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Old 04-14-2011, 06:36 AM   #15
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Oddometer: 214
Bike troubles in Guatemala....

After a complete engine rebuild, toiling for over 5 weeks obtaining parts, tools, and breaking said parts, tools, as well as obtaining faulty parts and sending the engine off to the machine shop several times.....

find out if Rudolf the Wonderous YBR will ever wander clicking the link to see the latest video....

made because I have a lot of time on my hands....
klous-1 is offline   Reply With Quote


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