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Discussion in 'Ride Reports - Epic Rides' started by EvergreenE, Jul 21, 2016.
I'm in, been following Paul's, this should be good as well.
Can't wait to hear more! SMS indeed...
"Ryan advised me to get a 250cc one, but because CC’s were a complete mystery to me back then, I got the blue one instead."
This is hilarious. In.
I'm definitely "IN."
Haha hope so!:)
Thanks! I'm translating my Lithuanian blog into English right now. And I did bump into a bunch of riders from all over the world, so chances are I am in someone else's photos or ride reports:)
thanks! It's all going to be from a very green and exceptionally unskilled rider's perspective, so do bear with me...
The deep end is where the fun starts!!
Yes, messing with people back home is always entertaining:) Alaus?
Thanks for the interest everyone - I'll post my first ride report tomorrow as soon as I sort the photos out! Here's a random one of me and Blinkin somewhere in Southern Bolivia
Taking off on a road trip the day after learning the basics of how to ride a motorcycle is a horribly irresponsible and bad idea..........
........and really friggin awesome all at the same time
The really good news is that you obviously lived to tell the tale!
This one is gunna be good...
I'm in...cuz blue's one of my favorite colors!
IN, as well.
I'm so in on this!!!!!
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In! I want to see what your helmet hair looks like!
Gotta love people who live it to the fullest!!!!!! Your awesome kid. More stories and pics please
I'm in. That hair is out of control, i love it.
In... Been following Paul's adventures for a long time... It will be fun to see your perspective as a newbie...
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Nazca - Mollendo, Peru
My first day riding out of Nazca was an epic success of awesome proportions: after packing and re-packing again (I knew nothing of panniers, waterproof bags, or even rok straps back then, and even if I had a clue, all that was available was some string and rope in the market, so that’s what I used) and naming the bike Blinkin, I finally set off and almost immediately crashed at the next corner, which I found very confusing because I thought I had learned how to ride already?.. I picked the bike up, set off again, and crashed again at another corner just barely missing an elderly gentleman who jumped out of my way, then looked at me with a sort of fatherly ridicule, helped me to pick the bike up, then smiled a wonderfully toothless smile, said something in his local dialect and went away shaking his head. I then inferred that perhaps one does not, in fact, learn to ride in a couple of hours; also, a laden pony behaves a bit differently than a pony without luggage.
Eventually, I did make it through a maze of crazy little streets and one very scary roundabout and was out on the open road. Holy crap!!! I wasn’t sure whether I counted as a proper biker yet because Blinkin was only little, and it was my first day on the road, but I definitely felt like one. I was enjoying the hell out of all the 85 kilometers per hour, and soon enough, I got all brave and smug about my superior road skills (the two crashes in the morning were very soon forgotten) so I decided to test Blinkin’s maximum speed and twisted the throttle all the way. Blinkin obliged and managed an absolutely staggering awesomeness of about 107,5 km/h!!!
I mean, of course I’d seen bikes before, I’d seen people riding bikes, I knew that bikes were fast things – but I never knew what it felt to ride one. So to me, Blinkin was this incredibly amazing, beautiful machine, and 107,5km/h on it felt like more than any Fireblade could ever dream of doing that day on the Panamerican.
A few hours after my outrageous maximum speed attempt, the world suddenly turned blurry, the road became all weird and silky and all my bravado was gone within seconds: out of nowhere, there suddenly was a sandstorm. Of course, you’d expect sandstorms to be fairly common in a desert – and the whole region of Ica is nothing but desert – but it completely threw me off, so I stopped at the side of the road to wait it out.
The sandstorm came and went, and I set off again, cautiously sticking to the side of the road and only doing Blinkin’s standard 85km/h instead of previous recklessness of the fabulous 107,5km/h.
The sun was about to set, it was getting cooler, and I suddenly felt a little uneasy. There was no one else on the road. If the bike broke down, I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do. There was nothing but desert around.
So when I finally rolled into Chala, a tiny fishing village on the coast of the Pacific, it felt like an incredible, hard won victory of extraordinary value and meaning instead of being what it was – just a day’s ride. I found a little hostel – it had no windows, but the owner let me park Blinkin inside – and then I found beer, and sat down on the sidewalk, and the women were selling fish, bananas and coca leaves and sharing tea and gossip, and the sun set into the ocean, and the whole village stank of fish and diesel oil, and the beer was warm, but I felt like a hero, A Conquerer of Street Corners, A Master of Incredible Speeds, A Defeater Of Nasty Sandstorms – it was the best evening imaginable, and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, and life was good.
I spent the next week riding through a bunch of little fishing villages along the Panamericana, stayed in Camana for a day and then headed to Mollendo; I spent a couple of days there and then decided I should have a destination. I had vaguely heard of Valle del Colca from someone, so I figured, why the hell not.
And so the journey started…