Just when I thought it couldn't get better, it did.

The rest of the story,or, Chapter two

2011-05-16T07:01:00.000-07:00

When you are gone for a few months "shit happens". There were a few issues not on the menu when I left. A little plumbing, lots of dead battery's, empty fuel tanks for house heat, and a lot of catching up with people who were concerned about my well being. There was no problem occupying my time with social catch up, general maintenance and repairs around the house and garage.

The KLR was left in the hands of a bonded shipping agent in Costa Rica at the end of March, the deposit with a bonded shipping agent made the motorcycle exempt from the import duties and registration charges for Costa Rica. I flew home on the first of April and waited to see if I would ever be contacted by a shipper.

The shippers have lead me to believe that the KLR is in transit and will be arriving in Tampa Florida soon. I think "soon" in Tico might translate a little different than in Engles. So I wait for word from the receiving agent informing me of it's arrival and will buy a one way ticket to Tampa. There I hope to collect the moto and get some maintenance done in preparation for the ride back to the N/W. The KLR will need new brake pads, tires and an oil change, and I expect it might have starting issues because it has sat idle for 2 months with a gas tank at minimum. I plan to rely on local shops and AAA if I have to. Once in the "Way Back" I had to call AAA while on a tour in California while riding a Hyabusa, they are helpful if you have the correct coverage.

I expect the trip back to the Low Foggy and Soggy will be a lot different than the first leg. The weather will be more hospitable and I don't expect to be accosted at gun point when I cross the border from Arkansas to Missouri, but like the man said "paddle faster I hear banjo's". Different roads different challenges. I plan on taking a little more time and relaxing the pace this leg.

Nicaragua revisited

2011-05-16T06:56:00.000-07:00

While in Jaco I had a chance to go to Nicaragua on an excursion by rental car. The Expats that reside in Costa Rica on visitor visas have to leave every 90 days to have their Visas renewed. The most common trip is a jaunt to Panama for a four day weekend or up to Nicaragua for a getaway. Using the local bus system is an option for travel and a travel business has built up around the Visa renewal getaways. Another option is rental cars. We made arrangements with a national rental car company to provide a car for the trip from Jaco to the Nicaragua border. There we would cross the border on foot and pick up a rental car from the same company on the other side. My memories of border crossings left me a little skeptical about this arrangement going smoothly. My fears were for naught, the crossing was seamless and fast. The traveling party was made up of four adults and a three year old. I could not believe the change in attitudes of the officials when you have a blond blue eyed three year old in your arms. No hassles, escort to express line, respectful responses. So much for profiling.
Near Granada there is a 200,000 year old volcano that imploded and created a crater lake. On the shores of this lake (Laguna De Apoyo) the Nicos have built a few resort hotels, one of these San Simian, was our destination. Our arrival was a little late and the staff held over for a fifteen minutes to make sure we had a chance to get dinner. At about seven O'clock in the evening we found out that the bar closed at five.The angst over the prospect of not getting a beer was relieved when the manager made arrangements with the night watchman to open the cooler for us. Jorge was an attentive and an appreciated provider of iced buckets of cold beers.
The lake was warm fresh water the food was good the beer was cold the ambiance was delightful. Small cabinas on the slopes over looking the lake, sleeping under mosquito netting, was a very fun time. It cost 20 bucks to take a 1 1/2 hour horse drawn carriage ride in Granada, with historically significant sights pointed out by the driver.
I know it didn't fit the Motorcycle theme but this trip was a memorable pleasant part of the whole package.
The transit back across the border was even easier than the northbound leg.
Now its back to Jaco and address the issue of shipping the Moto

Nicoya

2011-03-14T08:26:00.000-07:00

"How highs the water Mama"
We have been sitting around enjoying the sights and attractions of Jaco for a few days and decided it was time for the next adventure. Last year we did a trip to the Nicoya peninsula by rental car and thought it would be a great application for a dual sport bike, so we were north bound.
The trip can be made on roads via bridge at Puente Amistad or by ferry from Puntarenas. There are two ferry's out of Puntarenas, one transits to Naranjo and one crosses to Paquera. There is one that goes to Montezuma but is passenger only and wont carry vehicles.An 8 O'clock start got us to Puntarenas in time to make any choices we wanted. We opted for the 10 O'clock to Naranjo,it would put us on a counter clockwise loop around the peninsula ending up at Paquera as our departure point.
The ferry ride over was to early for the services to be open, we usually found snacks water and beer sold on the ferry this time we wanted for water.When we got off it was a short distance to many choices for food and drinks. The road to the city of Nicoya has a stretch of gravel that can get dusty if it has a lot of traffic we stopped for a burger just before the gravel and watered up.
We had been up north to Tamarindo in the rental car and decided that this trip was going to be more outback oriented so headed west at Nicoya for Samara, good paved roads with incredible vistas and restaurant stops along the way.
At Samara we got lodging at a hotel and did a walk about after a dip in the pool. We arrived about 4 O'clock and had plenty of time to catch the sunset. We have been here long enough that the declination of the sun has changed so much that we cant get a sunset over the water unless we go up north. A very cool geography lesson.
When we checked out the desk clerk tried a bait and switch with the bill. All transactions are aimed at a scam! He offered a cash discount of 35 dollars if we paid in cash, which he would have pocketed, or the more expensive if we paid by credit card. After a heated conversation he decided that he could extend the cheaper price on the credit card, which was what we negotiated the evening before with the staff at the desk.
I cant imagine what a hassle it must be for business owners to collect there fees with employees that pocket anything they can steal.A few conversations with employers indicate that a common practice is to fire everyone on a regular basis, then renegotiate the rehire, or weed out the ones that can be expected to steal the least.
This day was to be a trip over gravel roads with notorious wet river crossings. The maps that are available get out dated quickly because the rainy season changes the roads and the crossings, Local knowledge is valuable and asking before committing to the wet is a good idea. Its also smart to walk a river before you wet your wheels. The tracks you see going into a river and coming out might be before the change in the river bottom topography.
We had an incident at our first crossing that covered all that advice. While we were reversing our course to backtrack and investigate any alternatives a 4 wheel drive with locals in it came up and talked to us. While we were discussing some options an old man came up and said we could cross his land for a couple of dollars(1000 colonies) the bike could go for free. We let him know that if this didn't pan out we knew where he lived and would be back. He got his bribe opened the gate and we were on our way, a kilometer down the trail we came to the river crossing. We let the 4 wheeler get wet first, it was a triple wet threat with two islands, the last splash being about a hundred feet across. On the last crossing we had water above the foot pegs and the bottom got soft,two up on skinny tires and knee deep in water was a challenge for the bike and me. On the exit side the goat trail went steep and the 4 wheeler was having trouble with traction, spinning wheels bucking and spitting rocks. I thought I had given him enough lead time but found myself in the position of loosing momentum with no way of passing him in this narrow chute. If I had to stop we would have to retrace our way to the river and start again, that was when the torque of the KLR really payed off, it pulled from a grunt like a mule leaning into a plow. I was inches from his bumper as he clawed up that chute and passed him as the pinch point widened. In my youth I had occasion to be involved in a couple of ISDT qualifiers, this was that kind of terrain.We later found out that this was last years route and all the smart ones don't go through the old mans property.
At the next crossing we opted to go upstream and search for a shallow forde, which worked well for us. We had about 10 crossings that day most were uneventful. One that looked easy pitched us into a ditch that would have put my dick in the dirt if T had not launched her weight to the high side. It would have been a 2 MPH dump and she was looking to get on top of the bike if it went to dirt,her move gave me back the advantage on the center of gravity and we could back out of the ditch and proceed.
This was a great motorcycle experience, enduro type terrain, single track, 4 wheeler roads, river crossings, steep and deep, not passable in the rainy season. We did it two up, at the end of the day T said it was the only ride she had ever been on that she was relieved when it was over. It was performing without a safety net. Like I said before I would rather be lucky than good.
At Mal Pais (translate bad land) we found lodging and kicked back. Sunset was beautiful and beers were cold. Mal Pais is one of the great surfer destinations in the world. I don't surf but this town and break really makes you want to learn.
The rest of the trip was to the ferry at Paquera and back to Puntarenas. This time the ferry ride was more party atmosphere. the snack stand was open and we had a good time and conversations with other travelers.
Home again home again jiggidy jig, back to base and plan the next step.

February 16 to February 21

2011-02-23T07:32:00.000-08:00

Two Up and Travelin Down
Started South on the 16th at about 0800 Hrs, going to Panama to see what its like, bet its tropical and hot. It took about 3 Hrs to go the 250 klicks to Paso Canoas that's the boarder crossing on Hwy CA2. The road south was unpaved until last year for allot of its length, the improvement cut many hours off the trip.
We spent about 45 minutes getting passport stamps for exiting Costa Rica, for persons and for Motorcycle. We then moved to Panama side and there was a bus full of German tourists that created a line that lasted a little over an hour. Now we had to get the Moto migrated to Panama. This was done easiest with a guide, also known as border leach. He cost twenty bucks and was one of the few I met that was worth his pay, I thought the red tape was over done. We had five stations to go through, all in different offices. If that wasn't confusing enough some of the Oficio's would ask insignificant questions to make it more difficult. An example is where will you be leaving Panama? The question is not necessary and has no official value, you have to clear customs no matter where you exit, its purpose is to confuse and make the border leach look more necessary. All in all it was relatively painless process that took about 3 hours.
We decided to get to David and find a crash pad. David is a larger size town with lots of services. We went to the town square and found a hotel that had a restaurant and covered parking, it cost about 25 bucks a night.The town square was a few blocks away and we had a nice walk and a few drinks at a sidewalk cafe over looking it. The restaurant served us a nice dinner at about 8 dollars total for the two of us.Good lodging good food and 75 cent beers, pretty nice.

February 17
Today was going to be spent touring the country side looking for a Pacific beach. There are no real easy access beaches in this section, we ended up going back to Paso Canoas and west to the pacific where we found some nice beaches but no services so we opted for the mountains. This is a picture of a bird that got angry with my mirror, notice Terry's helmet hanging under the handlebars to catch the bird shit, she is always protecting the bike. It was a little late when we made the decision to head for high ground and we got into Volcan close to dark. The first hotel was full and the second had a room but it was expensive. Volcan is very touristy and its prices reflected that. The ambiance was really nice and the place gets rave reviews, it wasn't quite my cup of tea. Beautiful tropical woods and manicured gardens with a stream running through the grounds, very pretty but a little pricey.

February 18
Volcan to Paso Canoas by the back road was some of the best vistas have ever seen. This leg was going to complete a figure eight and put us right back where we crossed the border. I've ridden a lot of roads all over the world and this section of 70 miles was as challenging as any I have ever done, steep canyon walls with switch backs that scrubbed the chicken strips off the tires. To be a challenge doesn't mean smooth pavement with no pot holes, it does mean steep descents with repeated max braking and having a 130 pound back pack (passenger) on. I really enjoyed this section, it was a test of the machine and me. The machine was superlative, the human factor survived.
With the fun stuff under our belt we were still ready for some beach time and knew that we had to get farther south than we had been so on to the slab and put some rubber down.
Seventy some miles south was las Lajas near the little town of San Felix this was our stop for the night. The beach hotel was full but 10 miles inland the little town had two more hotels and three bars, three restaurants A restaurant hotel owned by a German family got our vote and we settled in at the Paradise Inn.

February 19

We had been communicating with a gentleman about lodging on the computer by E-mail, he was farther south and we set off to investigate his invite.He said he was in Penonome and we should contact him when we were near. Fifty miles past Penonome he was still 30 miles out and we gave up with a bad taste for Panamanian directions. When we got to the point we could see the high rise sprawl of Panama City we reversed our course and headed back. Our lodging that night was in Penonome.

February 20
The 20th was an early start, we had discussed the idea that retracing was going to be a grind and could entail a lot of tail in the saddle time. We were ready at day light but a rain shower delayed our start 30 minutes while we rounded up some coffee and sticky buns.
When we started out I kept looking over my left shoulder at the sun and thinking we can't be heading south, this part of the isthmus is east west and where we were the road was dipping south for quite a while, North bound, right.
Almost back to David and we really did turn North , across to the Caribbean side. Chiriqui was the destination and the gateway to Bocas Del Toro. Chiriqui is in the pic and is a sleepy little place with pangas
The stop at Almirante was to investigate the ferry system to Bocas Del Toro, a very popular island resort area. Our arrival hour dictated we could get over by passenger ferry that night but would have to leave the bike or go in the morning with the motorcycle, we chose to catch the island another day.
Changuinola was the town with lodging that was closest to the frontier at Guabito so we got a room there and prepared for the border.
The days ride across the divide rivaled any passes I have done. At the top the natives would stop their cars and get out to experience the high winds. Great vistas of mountains, valleys, man made lakes,and dams. It was a supper day for moto.

February 21

Awake at 7 o-clock and on the road we wanted to get to the border early, then found it didn't open till eight and we had a twenty minute wait. The crossing was quaint ,attached is a picture of the bridge over the river that is the border. It was a slow ride across and T had to walk the boards were wet with rain and slick as slug snot. The pass ports and vehicle immigration went smooth, we were on our way by 9 O-clock. There is not a lot of traffic between the border and Lemon and not a lot of reason to put a ton of money into maintenance, the road showed that.
At Lemon the traffic changed Lemon is a major shipping port and almost all containers from America go through Miami to Lemon, the next 50 miles was congested truck traffic at about 30 MPH max. The moto was a lot faster as we could pass safely in a shorter distance.
The mountain pass from the Caribbean side to the Pacific side was spectacular, there was a several hundred meter long tunnel at the top, on a moto it challenges your eyes to accommodate the change in light when you enter the tunnel.
The decent into San Jose was easy and good roads, the entry into San Jose is just a drop in the middle of the city with no direction signs. Again we relied on intuition and braille to find our way to a neighborhood where we new our way to the new divided highway and a short hour and a half to our digs. Well surprise surprise the divided highway was closed and we had to divert to the old road which is twisty and steep and because all the traffic was diverted the road was loaded with buses and 18 wheelers doing 10 to 15 MPH. Not a problem just a little longer to a shower and a nap.
We had started out with two nights of clothes and luggage, we had so much fun it lasted 6 days and 5 nights, it will feel good to relax a couple of days.

Arenal and La Fortuna

2011-02-15T11:34:00.000-08:00

Gee mom from up here you can almost see the house.
Mid morning we loaded the tank bag and headed for Puentarenas, stopped at La Nacion newspaper and put an ad in the classifieds and then headed North. In about an hour the CA1 gives you an option of turning East or West. A left takes you to the Nochia peninsula and a right takes you to Arenal and the highlands to view the volcano.
The peninsula is more enjoyable if you have a few days and we thought the cooler temperatures of the mountains would be pleasant so we took a right. Previously we had travelled upland and were greeted by rain and wet conditions. On that rip we learned that it is very rare to see the volcano because its referred to as a rain forest it is low visibility most of the time, best season is Sept Oct for clear Sky's. We expected to get wet this time.
Our initial climb we were buffeted by some strong winds, at first these were unnerving for Terry, with elevation gain the winds diminished and the ride turned pleasant with clear sky's and great visibility, what a treat.
The entire ride up to Tameril and on to Arenal was striking vistas and 70 degree temps. We could soon see the volcano and it stayed in sight for the rest of the day. The volcano is about 1600 meters and has a slow eruption continuing, with molten lava cascading down its slopes regularly.It's not like the Mona Loa river like flows, more in the manner of red glowing A A rock tumbling down the mountain side.
A stop at the Macadamia restaurant for a snack gave us a terrific vista of Lake Arenal, and a leg stretch rest stop. When we continued we crossed paths with Capuchin Monkeys, Terry took pictures pictures as we rolled by on the Moto, neither of us thought we wanted one of these little guys crawling up our legs while we rode by.
On our first trip we went around counter clockwise, this trip we went clockwise and had the vistas to our right with no traffic to obstruct them, there was no traffic problem its just nicer egress and access to our lane.
En route to La Fortuna are several hot springs that we explored and enjoyed last year, this year was about the motorcycle ride.
When we arrived at La Fortuna it was about an hour before sunset,with 180 miles on the clock, lodging was our biggest priority and we easily found a 25 dollar room, ground floor that had a courtyard and locking post for the bike right in front of the room. At this price you get no AC but the bathroom was clean and shower worked great. The vents had no screens and were open to the air, all noises travelled through the courtyard, we had no trouble with bugs and experienced very little noise disturbance.
The roast chicken dinner across the street often comes up in conversations with gringos as one of their favorites. The locals often priced items lower if the payment was in cash and in dollars. I found the tour guide business occupied by people a little to anxious to take advantage of tourists, a reputable established business could be a lot cheaper than a street vendor, be careful of exchange rates and different prices for cash, charge card, or US dollars. Like I said before "Its hard to recognise when you make the transition from tourist to prey".
The next morning we were going to travel back to Jaco, fuel was not going to be a problem and I like the lower center of gravity that a half full tank affords. We had a great time going to San Ramon and got lost repeatedly, had to ask directions several times. About 5 miles from San Ramon I switched to reserve, lots of fuel to spare.
From San Ramon we went towards San Jose for 5 K and took the exit for Palmares. A little serendipitous it opened up a back route to Atenas and connected to Orotina, which is the back yard to our digs. This was about the ride and it was super, adventurous, lovely vistas, good food and drink, cheap comfortable lodging.

Logistics

2011-02-02T11:55:00.000-08:00

The best laid plans of mice and men , in one blink of an eye, transcend to rat shit.
This is an E-mail I sent to a bud who is planning a trip South, I am not sure my experiences are indicative of what another traveler would encounter
I did not keep accurate records of my expenses, I have to guess. My recollection is that from Mexico south I spent an average of 20 dollars a night for lodging, and three hundred miles a day average would have consumed six gallons of gas, the price was so variable I would budget 30 dollars a day. Food and beer are another wild ass variable, my eccentricity's required 1 meal a day. Beer was a huge variable depending on my appetite, so I would say 20 dollars a day for my sustenance. Not enough,to eccentric. I spent about 40 dollars on repair crap and 150 dollars on bribes.
I transited all countries south of U.S. in about 10 days, ridiculously short time. I think I was under 100 dollars a day. I used credit card, bank card for cash withdrawals, and started with about 200 dollars in my pocket all of these methods served me well. I carried back up credit card, the foreign phone numbers for lost cards in several locations and 2 calling cards for contacting people stateside. I had an old laptop PC that came with me and carried a Ipod that had E-mail capability. The laptop crashed and I did not use the Ipod to its full advantage, my fault I just didn't get around to it. The lap top would be left out next time, Ipod in.
I would bring a little more cash the next time, but not to much, each person has their comfort level. I did leave medical power of attorney with contacts in the states and lists of credit card numbers with trusted friends.
I talked to several people that are making and have made the trip with sleeping bags and camp gear. My level of comfort is a credit card and tooth brush.
Your question really started me thinking, thanks again for stirring up the thought process. Maybe this page should go on the blog. The logistics of an endeavor like this are so variable you can't pin them down.
I am communicating with shippers now to see if I can ship the bike stateside. The main reason is because the Guatemalans limit the time I have to re transit their country. Locating a shipper has been a hassle but mainly because I asked the wrong people at first, presently I have a couple of contacts that are trying to be helpful, I am optimistic that I will have info that will allow me to make a definitive conclusion in a timely manner.
That's about it good travels to ya

January 24 Lazy Days

2011-01-24T10:11:00.000-08:00

"Enjoy them while you can"
The trip down was 5000miles on the moto, it was well over due for an oil change. It takes a bit of research to set up the logistics of such a task when your language challenged and are not knowledgeable in the local facility's. I soon found that the three quarts (2.5 liter) of oil could easily cost 12 dollars a quart.
I went to the store and bought some rudimentary cleaning supplies for the washing of the bike. Then I found ,after my purchase, that it cost less to have someone wash it for me at the lavacar than I paid for the supplies. The wash station was next to the lube wrack and they assured me that the oil change could be done for 40 dollars. I had brought a filter with me. The lifetime filter I planned to put on the bike had not been delivered when I left, bringing one was the second best plan.
I wanted a second opinion about the cost of the oil change and I didn't except at first look the ASME rating of the oil they offered at the lube wrack. I like to hands on my own maintenance and had not recovered fully from my experience with Jobe. The local shop that rents four wheel off road tours has an English speaking owner and is very friendly guy that offered 3 quarts of JASO rated oil and he would do the work dispose of the oil and I could assist for 20 dollars total. I was very happy with this arrangement and will go back to his place if I need other stuff.
On another occasion he supplied me with a 5 mm hex drive cap screw, fine thread, the cost was two cokes for the kids who work the shop. The screw had vibrated out, stuff vibrates out of KLR's, I came equipped with locktight for such events. My thoughts now are that I should go back and pay him premium price for a good set of gloves to keep this relationship going. He has become a respected asset.
Fruit smoothies for breakfast on the veranda until the sun hits our seats then down by the pool to catch some shade. you gotta savor these kind of days.

Epilogue Jan 21

2011-01-21T06:48:00.000-08:00

"Toes in the sand, buns in the sun".
After arrival life quieted, it slammed to a stop, like racing full tilt boogy into a giant marshmallow. The pool is relaxing, the farmers market is open Friday morning. There we buy most of our weeks vegetables and fruit. These commodity's make up a larger part of our diet here.

There is something so wrong about me in a sarong

Neighbors KTM and the KLR next to the pool.

Twice now the residents of this condo (11 units) have gathered for a Friday night social, this gathering is loose knit but could be a regular occurrence. The occupants are a mixed bag of nationalities, Russian ,Canadian, French, Austrian,American and Tico There is usually a cocktail hour each day. at the pool about 4PM. We catch up on the gossip and hear reports of excursions, then decide if we want to catch a the sunset on the beach(a block away). The big decision is about the source of dinner, eat in or eat out.
When I arrived I felt rested and ready to keep going. That feeling was a little off, I had some aches and pains that kept me laying low for about a week, Advil and some pool days in the sun seemed to help. We had planned to use the moto for some touring and had a lot of protective gear with us, jackets pants boots helmets and the like. All of this at the same time all of the time proved to be inappropriate. The temperature is normally 90 degrees F, at that temp the prospect of full gear is a pain in ass. We often use the moto for shopping and short hops. Those instances often find us not exceeding 20MPH and we are in shorts and shirts, we have been wearing our foot protection regularly. I haven't found a pair of gloves in a reasonable price but would trade in my leather ones for something more airy. When we leave for longer trips (a day or over night) we take jackets and long pants, helmets are mandatory by law at all times, as are reflective suspenders or vests at night. This last week has been used to explore just what is going to be prudent protective gear when traveling on the moto here.Distances are shorter in our travel here and that reduces the luggage needs. We have a lot of luggage options and don't need to use all of what is available.
I reflect on my adventure and I recall a quote from me "Its not an adventure if your not a little scared". I was scared every day and some days very frightened. Fear under control makes you sharper and more aware of our surroundings, I have seen fear be overwhelming. When you are complacent and at ease it is easier to be blind sided. It seems fear and obsession are like fire and water wonderful friends in control and terrible enemy's when not.
Its time to go to the market. My next blog will be an update on happenings here,

Day 15 Jan 2

2011-01-20T08:20:00.000-08:00

"Are we done? Are we really ever done?
My gracious host had opened the gates for me before sunrise and I got to the frontier (border) about 6AM. I dropped off my Vehicle permit and went to find the aduana for my exit stamps on my visa. The line waiting for passport stamps was 500 meters long and 4 people wide. Secondary lines were forming at the back and side doors to the building that housed the officials that stamped your passport.

These are pictures trying to depict the length of the lines at the Nicaragua border just to exit!

I parked the bike near the building thinking I would see it again as the line shortened. It was still in the morning and the temperature was down around 80 degrees Fahrenheit. That didn't last long, the heat rose and the line tripled in length. Around ten O'clock I was very close to the building and had gotten to know the people in line with me a little. There was a camaraderie that comes with suffering heat. No water, no shade, slower than a waiting line to a ride at Disney Land. I should have used my cable lock to secure my jacket and helmet to the bike and stood in line with less gear, I did not know it would take an eternity. The black whole of Calcutta comes to mind, people were passing out in line and there family or travel companions would get them to shade and water. If you were alone you lost your place in line. Reminded me of the military parade ground, standing at attention with a few of the guys passing out and being carried off, you just closed ranks and hoped you were not next. I finally made it into the building and thought this will be a relief, NOT, asshole to belly button for another 45 minutes to get to a table where the stamper was.
I made it through and was on my way to Costa Rica customs, the lines there were longer. On the way to the cluster of buildings that house the agents I need I was delayed by a station with a pressure washer. I was reluctant to let them pressure wash my bike but they were insistent and I relinquished when I realized it was a contamination station. They were fumigating any wheels that had touch Nicaraguan soil. bad blood between these borders. I was approached by a young man (a leach) about him assisting me with the crossing, he seemed different because he could not speak, he had no tongue. With pencil and paper he wrote he was sure he could make it easier. We haggled a little on price and settled at 20$ US, payable only if I was satisfied.He took me to a back door and led me through the police offices and strait to the aduano and my passport was stamped entrada. Two doors down was the Insurance agent that sold me minimum coverage for 90 days for 20$ US. We then walked a block away to the vehicle permit lady and 5$ later I was legal for Costa Rica. One Hour, the first border leach that had done what he said and he couldn't say it.
I had previous experience with Costa Rica and felt a lot more comfortable than I had since Salvador. I stopped and got some Colonies from an ATM. It was only a few hours south and I would be in a safe haven with freinds. Liberia and Punt arenas passed by and I was getting close to the end of this leg of the trip.
Thirty Klicks out of Jaco on the crest of a hill three lanes wide , the traffic had slowed and the left and right lanes were traveling about 30MPH the center lane was free and I was doing about 55. I tried to shoot the gap between a bus on the right and an SUV on the left and when I was fully committed the bus driver jerked the wheel to his left and put the pinch on me. I braked hard and had the left handle hand grip touch the side of the SUV. The contact put me into a into a violent tank slapper I was sure I was down but the KLR snapped to attention and I held slight throttle on till I had clearance to down shift and accelerate past the bus on the right. I thanked him appropriately and sped on. Five thousand plus miles and I almost bought it 30 klicks from safe haven.
Jaco produced a a fine reunion and much needed rest..

Day 14 Jan 1

2011-01-19T21:08:00.000-08:00

"Toto I don't believe we're in Kansas anymore."
The ride to the border was short and the scenery was nice. When I got to the border the agents were pleasant and efficient they processed me easily and I was off and across the bridge to Honduras.
Where I was greeted by an army of border leaches, one was the friend of the leach that I dropped my left over Guatemalan money on, He knew my name because he got a call from his buddy. I refused his services so he tagged along anyway.. The Honduras border building was built in 1947 and had no maintenance since its completion, paint peeling broken windows bars on the window where you put your passport through to get your entry stamp. the agent was in a dirty T-shirt with a cheep nylon cord holding a badge around his neck. The leach said it was going to be 10 dollars US for the fee for the passport stamp he would get it done for me, when I went to the window they asked for 3$. I can't emphasize enough the contrast from one side of the bridge to the other.
The passport stamp conversation created a bit of volume between me and the leach. A man walked up and asked if I was having a problem, in English. I said "I don't know". Then the leach tried to interrupt us and I told him to back off and then I said to the stranger "yes". He introduced himself, his name was Steve. We talked about what was going on and he said the permit process was easy and I could get it done within 20 feet and I shouldn't allow the leaches to separate me from the officials or let them handle handle negotiations for me. They would, as they had tried , tell me that the permit fees were greater than they are so they could pocket the difference while they handled it for me. That pissed off the leach and he walked away.
Steve asked the border agent where the permit agent was and we were informed that he wouldn't be in till later. "How much later" Response "I don't know" Ask "Can you call him" Answer" No answer" During this frustrating exchange the leach reappears with a cop and a heated conversation ensued between the leach and Steve. The Honduran policeman was I think still hung over from the last nights revelry and hadn't got his uniform shirt on yet so he wasn't quite up to speed and maybe he did not appreciate the leach dragging him into a situation. Even though the Spanish was fast and furious I got enough to gather that the leach was pissed because his bitch had been high jacked by this Americano, the bitch he referred to was me, his to fleece. I also gathered that Steve responded by telling them that the entire system of border rats was a disgrace to there country and that it was shameful that they cheated every visitor they could. The leach got no satisfaction from the cop and stormed off in a Spanish tirade of profanity aimed at Steve.
The border agents had enough time to investigate the where bouts of the permit agent. He was not going to be into the office for 2 days. Their opinion was that the permit was "No possible" Steve did a very good job of telling them that it was not fair to hold me hostage for two days.
We sat at a roadside eats spot and talked over the situation, and shared our story's. You know mine, Steve is an American that lives in Salvador and was on his way to Nicaragua, Granada, to catch up with his family. They had taken the auto and he was reuniting with them for a holiday via bus. The bus he was going on was parked at the border waiting for enough passengers to make it cost effective to transit the country. The trip across would take about an hour and a half. We talked it over and decided that I would cross the country following the bus and I would with his help offer to purchase the permit where there was an agent.
We walked back across the border to Salvador and asked the agents if we could step into there country to buy some minutes for Steve's phone. There said why not use our phone and asked us into there office where I sat down and called the American embassy in Salvador. I spoke to the guard on duty and he referred me to the on duty officer, that phone was not answered. I recalled the guard, who had no authority and asked if he could leave the duty officer a message, its not in his job description, hes just a marine guarding a gate and referring phone calls. He did take down my ID and a phone # so the duty officer could get in touch with me or I could call back on Steve's phone later. was concerned about the reception I would receive at the other border.
It was getting closer to noon and the bus did not have enough passengers to leave yet, I asked Steve how many more they needed and when the driver said five bucks, I ponied up the five bucks and the bus passengers cheered me. Lots of Mucho Gracious and a cloud of dust the bus was headin south with me following.
Honduras is a short hop across at this point and it will be the first time I have made two borders in one day.
libre, free to go, my passport was stamped and i was off to Nicaragua, for entry stamps and vehicle permit. With Steve's help it went pretty smooth. I owed him a couple of beers, he had called his wife and there was a couple of hours to kill before his next bus left. I was feeling good about making two borders in one day and had a thirst.
The border areas are a little seedy and I had until now avoided having a beer until I got away from them. This was definitely a poverty pub atmosphere, bright daylight and midday. The canteena was a cinder block building, it had a courtyard alley,dirt floor, roll up garage door front and a back yard patio with small rooms for the working girls to ply there trade. There was a couple of refrigerators for cold beer. The sound system music was really loud. The patrons numbered about 25 , 9 at one central round table and three tables of four, these four tables were older guys socializing and sipping, the rest of the patrons were passed out or preparing to pass out. In the front court was a cowboy trying to get on his horse he was to drunk to stay on and kept falling off the right side. The horse was used to this, he stood calmly until the rider got a good seat and then walked away , i guess he knew the way home.
Steve was mixing right in and joking and laughing showing his new found friends porn pics he had on his camera. I backed up to a wall and sipped my beer and watched the cowboy trying to get on his horse. The 9 at the round table had a full table of empties in front of them and were joking about who's turn it was to buy a round. I noticed one of them pass a large stainless steel revolver like a Ruger 357 (I have one). I didn"t see the bore and I didn"t want to. I walked over to Steve and said "I have to leave now". When we got outside I explained that I could not stay where people were armed and I wasn't.
I followed him to his bus stop and we talked at a quiet side walk tavern over another beer and I said adieu and thanked him again. He did assist me a lot.
The border crossings and following the bus at 50 MPH had eaten up a lot of the day, I could still try to make Granada. Not such a good plan, I got caught in a rain storm and night fell and I was forced to take the first place I could get to.
Sign said motor hotel, as I pulled into the court yard I saw that this was a place that rented usually by the hour. I stopped the bike, I was dripping wet.
The manager said to me in good English "What do you want".
I say" I want a room where the door locks a safe place for my bike and a cold beer. Is there a restaurant close?"
His comeback " How many beers you want?"
I say "How much for six beers and a room"
He"20bucks"
Me"OK"
Him"Take that room, the bike parks in the garage outside your door. The cleaning girls will bring your towel and sheets, tell them when you want one of your beers. The restaurant is 200 feet that a way".
Rudimentary conversation and to the point. The beer and the sheets are delivered, there is a rubber on the towel. I get changed and go for food.
When I get back the manager is outside sitting in a lawn chair, and asks if i had a good meal. We talked a little while and he told me he had lived in Washington for 10 years and had been to the area of my town. We enjoyed practicing a little English and I turned in early. He locked up the front gate for the night and when I started stirring in the morning at daylight he was up to unlock.

Day 13 Dec 31

2011-01-19T07:34:00.000-08:00

Papers I don need no stinkin papers!
Guatemala was going to be a pleasant site in my rear view mirror. I pulled into the building housing the Aduana (border agent) and was beset by boarder leaches. I was trying to verbally swat them away like fly's when the fat little bastard in the greasy T-shirt that carried the official clip board came up. He had been watching and allowing them to pester me until it was clear I wasn't paying them. He probably gets a kick back from them.
He demanded a white paper that was my vehicle permit, I explained that did not need one and he informed me I needed to return to the entry border to obtain one.The parking lot incident yesterday is starting to loom in my memory banks, drats. I explain that I cant be here illegally because I have Mexico exit stamps on my passport, dated and Guatemala stamps for entry. Plus there is a legal sticker on my windscreen that cant be got without jumping through all the hoops that you pricks demand. One of the leaches was augmenting this conversation with some interpreter skills, he helped. The oficio was confused enough to recognise I had an issue that was beyond the capacity of his clip board and after I refused adamantly to return to the other boarder he consulted a higher authority. I assured him I would not be intimidated unless he had a gun. Well the authority showed up and SHE was big, and she had a gun, and I was impressed that she would handle this situation. I might be going back to the entry border, drats.
It certainly did confuse them that I was here without that white paper. She took down the VIN and the sticker number and my passport and disappeared in her official office behind a big door with an armed guard. and i sat down on the sidewalk in the sun baking. A little later she came back and the border leach interpreted that she was requesting the paperwork from the entry border by Internet and would soon know if I was legal, you have to remember that SOON is a word defined by cultural values. So I waited.
While sitting in the sun baking a bicycle rider rode up and we shot the breeze. He was an Englishman that had been in Antigua enrolled in a language school for two weeks and was today resuming his trip south. He was packing full panier's on a very adequate bike and was obviously up to the task.I think both of us had many times been approached by people questioning our sanity, we seemed to have a bond, maybe because of this common reaction from people.
It was a pleasant conversation and during the talk he asked me what I was doing for New Years Eve? I said "When is it ?" That response led to a topic of how we both lose track of chronology, our endeavors occupy so much of our attention we lose track of time. When I retired I went through a time of reflection on how the clock controls our existence normally. When you escape the daily planner and pay no attention to the minute hand then lose the a day then a week it is a feeling of freedom that few get to experience. We thought that this freedom could be attained through poverty or the other way by choice. The conversation is cut short by Madam Officio.
The paper has been e-mailed to her and I am Libre. She stamps my passport, Salida (exit) and I am on my way to El Salvador.
The Salvador offices are clean freshly painted and the border agents will have no part of the border leaches hassling me. Leaches were discouraged from entering the buildings and I was reminded often that the services were provided and I did not need to pay anyone for entry or exit. My paper work was prepared and my bags inspected the numbers on the bike were inspected and recorded. I was wished a pleasant visit and excused. What a refreshing change. I had about 11 dollars in Guatemalan money and thought that the border leach that had interpreted for me deserved a tip. I had convinced him that I was broke and had no money, he was disappointed that his tip was so small but as a favor he would tell his Friend at the other border I was en route.
Salvador is beautiful and clean. I passed the English bike rider about an hour later and honked as I went by. I soon thought I had made a mistake by not

Day 12 Dec 30

2011-01-17T08:48:00.000-08:00

"Gimme three steps gimme three steps mister and won't see me no more"
The border crossings attract an unsavory group of people. I was going to try minimizing my exposure to them by being early, they are aware of this ploy and are prepared to rise and greet you with all sorts of scams. Rise at day break at the border before 8AM maybe I can squeak through.
Terry and I had been on the cruise a few weeks before and I passed a Mayan Archaeological Site that we visited on a bus excursion from the ship. The same buses were there, probably different people.
About 30 kilometers away from the border I approached a government structure, the kind that bridges the divided highway and has a kiosk in the center like a toll booth. I had encountered them previously manned by police or army and the normal occurrence was to be waved through by a official wearing a orange vest carrying a orange flag. I think in the USA the unofficial badge is a clip board.
This time two guys came out and flagged me over. No biggy they were wearing light blue uniform shirts that had insignia on the sleeves and carried the orange flag and vests. One asked for my passport and registration in spanglish and I produced it. He then said I needed a vehicle permit and my passport stamped to go into the next country, He would take me to the official to obtain this. He then promptly pocketed my passport and said he would get on the back of the moto and go with me to the Aduana. Bad scene, I know I'm a fucked monkey. My problem is how to shed this guy who impersonated a border official. I figured the structure was unmanned and he took advantage of this to fish for a sucker and I bit. We were headed for the border.
At the border he directed me, from the pillion seat, to enter a parking lot. He got off and I said "I want my passport "and he said "I'll be right back with the stamped document." and he ducked into a building about a 100 feet away. When he came out he informed me that Mexico had stamped me out on my passport and I was ready to get my vehicle permit for Guatemala. He had changed shirts while he was gone and had a plastic I.D. on a string in his pocket. As he approaches I snap a picture of him and stash my camera in a pocket, it made him uneasy and he said so I replied "I want my passport back"
I have been collecting my thoughts, and inventorying my surroundings. The parking lot is about 100 yard by 100yards gravel with many cars parked the plates indicate origin of Arizona, California, Texas and the like. I figure this is well lit and lots of witnesses but i am still intimidated and scared. My arrival has attracted an entourage of 5 of his com padres that are money exchangers or solicitor's of protection for my moto. I figure there is no doubt about there ability to kick my ass the unanswered is how many it will take. I position my self with bike at my back and have in his absents attached a nylon cord loop to my disc brake lock leaving the lock in the tank bag and the cord easily reached by me. I am of the opinion that nothing I have is worth a physical confrontation. Give it up if it means a fight, but its really hard to recognize when you cross the line from tourist to prey.
"I want my passport back, now". He is telling me that to obtain the papers for all the border crossings in Central America it will cost 350 dollars US.
It started to get a lot more tense now as I explained that he could go fuck himself and he needed to get my passport. While him and I are doing this silver back war gorilla, chest thumping, macho dance in the gravel I plucked the ID from his shirt pocket. YA HOO, let her buck, were havin fun now, it really got escalated and all 6 are screaming at me. the commotion attracted a lot of attention lots of people are looking. I'm certain that in a calm manner (not) I explained that it would be returned when I got my passport and registration or we could get a cop involved. During this minute of activity one of them touched my arm just slightly on the forearm, this evoked an immediate response, I put on my best Clint Eastwood, Charles Bronson look on and threatened him with visiting his ancestors, or maybe I resembled a caged rat,the message got through and nobody touched me again.
A very tense hour passed and he went away and came back with my passport my registration and a windscreen sticker for the moto. We passed the ID and my paper work to each other like a spy exchange at checkpoint Charlie. I had put a couple of twenty's in different pockets in case I had to contribute Mordida (bribes) without disclosing a bankroll. He is still demanding 350$ and I am still refusing as I get on the Moto. He drops his demand to 150$ and I increase my response to a double fuck. I started the bike and got 40$ out of a jacket pocket tossed handed it to him and dropped into gear clutch out and I'm headed for the gate. There's lots of Puta, Chingow
I have thought about it and reviewed the situation, ran it over in my mind a lot, I still cant say how dire my straits were. Just exactly how much trouble I was in, I don't know. I know I was scared and in many happenings perception is reality. These guys had an elaborate game plan that relied heavily on intimidation, and they intimidated me. I consider myself lucky and I've always said I'd rather be lucky than good. I can't deny this could be called dumb luck.
I was checking my rear view mirror a lot, in a couple of hours I was sure nobody was following. I couldn't make the frontier(border) today so I got a room in Escuintla, nothing notable except that I had a lot of choices for lodging and had not been threatened with sleeping in the dirt. Tomorrow will be different maybe I can make a couple of borders, YA RIGHT.

Day 11 Dec 29

2011-01-16T06:49:00.000-08:00

A visit with Jobe.
I was still concerned with the attachment of the rear trunk and told myself that today was more about relieving that angst than making miles. If I pressed hard for the border I would probably make it but later in the day than I would like.
The guy who ran the hotel woke up and unlocked the garage at day break and I was on my way. A little over a 100 miles down the road and I stopped at a Mechenic and asked about a moto mechanic, he directed me a few blocks away to Motorcycle Row, a block of shops that were not open yet.
This is in Puerto Escondito and it looked like I had a lot of options when they opened. All I needed was a drill and a small bit and an easy out, The bolt had broken cleanly and would need little coaxing to back out. At home I have a set of left hand drill bits that have served me well for just such a project.
My search led me to a Husky chainsaw shop across the street from a hardware store. I looked in on the nuts and bolt guys and saw they had drill bits and easy outs, I should have good access to the hard parts. Then I went to the chainsaw shop and asked about use of a drill. The shop passed me down the line to a young man that spoke fair Engles and we made a deal for the use of some tools, in the street next to the shop entrance.
I should have seen it coming when he introduced himself as, hear "hobey" read Jobe. This guy was about to reek biblical havoc on my KLR. I disassembled the bike and got down to the problem bolts. Jobe then collected up an extension cord and drill. I stopped him from using to large a drill bit and picked one out of a bin that would not have eradicated all traces of threads. He plugged the two bare wires at the end of the cord into the wall and twisted the bare wires on the drill to the bare wires on the other end of the extension cord, my guess is this technique eliminates the need to have a specific end of the extension cord at the receptacle.
lWhile I was busy rummaging a bin for a center punch to give the drill bit a start Jobe was busy starting to drill the bolts out with a dull drill that drifted into the thread surface and securely insured no possibility of ever getting the bolt ends out. I took the drill away from him and explained that I thought he made a mistake, his response was " Not my fault, its to hard" . I am again distracted by a real mechanic who was working on a chain saw, while we were discussing possible corrective action, in bad spanglish Jobe managed to break off a tap in one of the hole he finished drilling. "not my fault is very hard". I now have the factory tabs that excepted the bolts rendered useless, not many choices left. I forbade Jobe from doing anything I did not witness and explained that although he was a nice guy he was no mechinic. I then hacksawed the tabs off and sharpened a drill bit on a borrowed angle grinder, and through drill the rear frame loop. The frame had enough meat to accommodate the holes and the next problem was shimming the height up so the space the removed tabs created was filled. The hardware shop across the street supplied nuts bolts and washers. I was a lot more trusting of this fix than I was of the zip ties and jury bolting I had to resort to. I hated to drill the frame loop but I will check the nuts from under the fender often and I had some thread lock to put on them. With no slop factor to allow movement and reasonable speeds at the bumps I should be OK.
This all transpired in three hours, most of the time was negotiating borrowed tools and getting hardware, then returning hardware to get the correct size then repeating all the above. In my garage it would not have taken an hour. Jobe's boss charged me 20 bucks for his services, I thought that was a little steep (muy caro) seeing as how he broke it three times before I fixed it. He implied it "wasn't hims fault, its to hard" besides there was something about compensation for Jobe not being able to perform his normal duty's of delivery and sweeping.
There for sure was to be no border crossing today,another 150 miles and I would stage so I could get there early in the morning.

Day 10 Dec28

2011-01-15T06:06:00.000-08:00

"Damn this traffic jam O how I hate to be late, burns my motor to go so slow, damn this traffic jam."
Acasucko was a bitch, heavy traffic, Hong Kong heavy traffic. Bad signage, just bad bad bad. The best advise I can give for transiting Acapulco north to south is, follow the signs directing you to the air port. Before you get there look for an invisible sign that directs you to CA2.
I was lost for 3 hours, got misleading directions, and a lot of no hable engles. Huge traffic jams that required hair raising lane splitting and beating on the side of buses with your left hand to make them move over at the pinch point. Miserable stifling heat wearing full riding gear.
After escaping the shit hole of Acasucko I had some easier roads. The concern about the Rube Goldberg rear rack repair caused me to stop at a roadside moto repair shop around Juchitan. The vendor and his two sons were real nice to me and offered there shop and services. They offered up a drill and a couple of bolts out of the scrap bin. These augmented the zip ties but I needed a drill and an easy out to remove two bolts ends that had broken off in factory tabs that were on the rear frame loop.

On the road again and stopped by Major Major of the Mexican army at a military rod block. He wanted paper work and to geek the bike.He delayed me enough to hasten my decision to stop for the night. It was 8 kilometers to Pinetepa and that was going to be my rest spot.
The traffic was backed up the entire way.This day was to test every aspect of my riding skills. I employed my best attempt at track stands, heavy braking, emergency swerves, acceleration to avoid danger and trials skills.
Speed is truly relative to the venue, 180 MPH on the salt is as challenging as 20MPH in a snow storm.
The traffic jam was caused by funerals. The procession walks through town carrying the coffin. A band playing a dirge precedes the mourners. This is on the national hwy CA2.
It became apparent while searching for a room that this fills up the hotels. On my third inquiry I got an eight dollar room in a hotel that had an under ground garage that locked up for the night. The room was a little like a cattle stall but had a TV, toilet, shower, and a steel door that locked, it did cross my mind that if locked on the outside it was ma cell.
Not posh but secure.The word posh comes from the sailing days of the British dominance of the seas. On trips to the Spice Islands around the African horn paying passengers preferred Port berths Outbound and Starboard births Home creating the acronym POSH. The cargo of fertilizer, dried and compressed, if exposed to water would swell expand and could crack the hull and sink the ship. It was marked ship high in transit giving us the acronym SHIT.
Now I'm into unpack, change clothes, wash out some stuff by hand, and take a walk to find some grits. Dinner is turning out to be a high point in this trip because of the great meals. After dinner I walked around the town square and found a beer with an outside bench where I could people watch. a Couple of local guys sat down then left, no conversation, they were enjoying the eve same as me.
I stopped at a vendor to get a couple of beers for the room a local by the window helped with getting the beer into a bag and covered with a little ice. He then offered to sell me cocaine grass or girls, that emphasized the difference between my normal environment and this economy.

Day 9 Dec27

2011-01-14T06:56:00.000-08:00

Barra Navidad created good memories. I left early in the morning hoping to repeat my mileage days. that expectation was an allusion much like that experienced by the Obama voters.
The Velocitad Retardo's, read speed bumps, have taken their toll. I added at the last minutes of preparation a Givi trunk. The idea was to include a method of security better than soft luggage. It was so handy I could not resist over loading it. Directions indicated that its capacity was 12 pounds, I was over that. The trunk bolts to the rear rack of the KLR, the rear rack bolts to the rear frame loop. Negotiating the retardo's at speed results in air time for the Moto, repeat this action and the rear rack separates from the frame and the rack pivots on its front mounting bolts and the trunk occupies the operators seat during flight time. You could say this produces operator stimulation.
In my possibles kit I had zip ties. A possibles kit is a compilation of equipment and tools used to fix maladies. I think I first ran into the term when reading about Mountain Men, interesting explorers that paved the way west. With my trusty multi tool (doubles as emergency underwear remover) I bored a couple of holes and secured the trunk and rack, at least well enough for more conservative speeds.
Acapulco was looming in my future, the warnings I had received from riders who preceded me made me want to transit it early in morning, rather than late in the day. jury rigging the trunk had eaten daylight, so I got a room in a motel with a restaurant a few miles from Acapulco and settled in for a rest. Here is where the lap top died and communication got a little more difficult. The hotel had guest computers in the lobby and I got off a few e-mails explaining there might be a lapse in communication. I should have used the I-pod for e-mail more.

Day 8 Dec 26

2011-01-14T06:12:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the hotel California.
Today the Toll roads will be replaced by two lane black top at Tepic. Its there that I turn west and south to Central America 2 (CA2). This will take me south to Porta Vallarta and Alcapulco. In the month previous to my departure Terry and I had taken a 14 day luxury cruise through the Panama Canal. This had been a long time dream of hers and it coincided with her 60th birthday present. On that cruise we had a few ports of call that I would be skating through. Porta Viarta was one.
That morning I had the option of using toll roads to Tepic or the Carrilla Libre (free roads). It was time to slow down and I chose the slower free route. a pleasant ride with lots of scenic distractions. The road to P.V. from Tepic is a great twisty with lots of opportunities to exercise your skills in braking passing and accelerating, It was the first chance I had to challenge the chicken strips on these tires.
chicken strips are the section of the tire that get exposed to the road when you lean the bike over in the corners. You can wear a tire out by flat slabbing (freeway cruising) and never expose the sides of the tread to the ground., or the bike can be used to negotiate corners at speed and greater angles, thus using more of the tread on the sides.
Different bikes have different capability's and can attain different lean angles.
On my 60th birthday I was considering a present to myself that would let me explore them. Terry had organized a wonderful birthday party that included guests from all of my past. Matt was there and we had a great celebration that culminated with him and I climbing out the window of the hotel in the early A.M. and sitting on the pitched roof with a bottle of Tangle foot, reflecting on the aging process. I was explaining to him that I had some reservations about buying a track bike. A 600 Honda that was not street legal and would be trailered to the events. I was feeling a little bit of guilt about what I thought was an extravagant birthday gift to myself. Matt listened to my whine and then said " Dad if you don't do it now I'll use your money to do it when your dead". That's what got me into exploring my chicken strips. His intent was selfless, an expression that I should spend his inheritance, I did my best but Still wonder if I could maybe have spent a little more on things we could have done together.
This road gave lots of opts to explore the speed and agility of a Moto. Even if it was over weight, top heavy, and shod with tires that were not designed for the track, sounds a lot like a description of me not the bike. Entering P.V. I passed the dock area for the cruise ships and recognized the streets where T and I had strolled down to the old town market area, past Senior Frogs. Lots of heavy traffic on cobblestones. CA2 gets a bit obscure and you are occupied with splitting lanes passing on the right and left. Everything from donkey's to pedestrians pop into your way. Its easy to get lost and off CA2 here but its hard to get a long way off track.
The first part of the day had been a little consumptive of fuel. Above 5 thousand RPM the mileage drops down a bit. I was in petrol search mode and about 12 miles south of P.V I came across a P.Mex that had not opened yet (under construction). P.Mex is the government run fuel supplier for Mexico. I asked a guard at the facility how far it was to the next fuel and his reply was 300 kilometers. I am thinking I can do this but in the end resign myself to retracing the 12 miles getting fuel and starting out with a 300 mile capability.
This was an early indication of how some of the locals don't relate to where they are on a map. I pull out a map show them where we are on it and ask if there is fuel between here and another city on the map and the response would indicate that they didn't know where they were let alone that there was another city in any direction. You have to be careful about the credibility of advice, sometimes it was spot on and others it made no sense. I know in my other travels you sometimes have to recognize that the advice is from the perspective of the giver. If your in California on a bicycle and ask how far it is to a land mark the answer is often in minutes of travel on the freeway by car, you have to extrapolate. I thought I sometimes got responses in C.A that were relative to horse back or airplane I couldn't be sure which. It turned out the next fuel was about 50 miles out, I would have made it with a 100miles to spare.
Here met a couple of young guys on Motorcycles that were on their way to Argentina on a BMW and a Kawasaki. We chatted for a few minutes and compared bikes and itinerary's. They commented on how light I was traveling and I mentally registered that their 650 cc bikes were loaded down with huge aluminum panier's and trunk and tank bags. I am sure they knew they needed lots of equipment and everything they had was necessary. I was getting by with one less pair of underwear.
Last nights finish in the dark with low fuel effected my decision to stop tonight an hour early at Barra Navidad and it was lucky because it took three inquires to find a motel. I was happy with it, it was secure , desk manned all night and a place to lock down the bike. I was using the steering head lock, a disc lock, and good cable to a BFR (big fuckin rock).
The local Yacht club was parading the bay with there boats all decked out in Christmas lights. I got to enjoy a nice meal with a great view and a walk through the market place. I found conversation with several Canadians in the watering holes and had an early turn in.

Day 7 Dec25

2011-01-13T07:38:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday Jesus.
The plan was the same wake up early, pack and on the road at first light. it was time to replenish cash and an ATM provided Pesos. I had been making good speed and progress because I was using the toll roads. The travel was uneventful, it was noticeable that I was getting further into Mexico, less gringo influence.
The day ended in Aceponta about 15 minutes after dark and the pet cock was on reserve. I found a Hotel for 360 Pesos, it had a nice secure courtyard and a desk that was open all night. It was manned by the cleaning lady but at least someone was up to watch for mischief.
These are pics of the courtyard, entrance,street, and room.
Two blocks to the town square and i experienced the first of some great meals. Back to the room with an 8 pack of those little beers they serve on ice and settled in with the TV. Then the toilet plugged up, out came the translation book and off to the office. The help was responsive and it was corrected fast, while I got off an E-mail.
I took a computer with me an old dell that was expendable. my experiences lead me to think an I pod with the Wi Fi capability would have been adequate. That old lap top was heavy and broke towards the end of my trek. Wi Fi connections were prevalent even in the most remote places.
In the morning language skills would have helped getting my deposit for the TV remote refunded, it all worked out.

Prologue

2011-01-13T07:13:00.000-08:00

"Spend your life searching for Hemingway with a Peter Pan attitude this is what you get".
If you have followed the blog this far you might be interested in some info on me, it may help understand the motivation for this adventure.
This is my 64th winter.I had a typical base education with an apex being a boys technical, vocational, high school. Then part time community college and a forty hour work week evolved into "Greetings your Uncle Sam needs you". 1966 to 1968 service number prefix US means drafted. as scary a word as can be, closely competed with by, IRS Audit or I'm pregnant. I had no combat exposure just dumb luck.
The next chapter was early poverty married life, cinder block coffee tables, incense,drip candles and foggy memories. Well they say if you can recall that era you didn't do it right.
A secure warehouse job and looking at a 35 year career to retire from the united auto workers. Health coverage steady decent pay daily grind reminded me of the army, I wasn't satisfied.
My dad was the greatest guy in the world and when I became troubled by a possible career change I asked his council. His was a generation that fought the 2nd war and survived the depression. He left a share croppers existence working for a dollar a day in Iowa and launched his family on a trek to Washington where he could wield a shovel on the Coulee canal's for a dollar an hour. 5 kids a wife and me the youngest in three corner pants. he was the patriarch of an extended clan that numbered more. I find that gutsy.
So when I asked him about leaving this job and going to work in the construction trades his response was "Security is a state of mind not a state of being". I bailed.
I had a chapter of camaraderie and peers that I generally appreciated and rewards commensurate with my efforts, not bad.
Along came Matt my son, you heard of him on day 2, more in a few sentences.
The economy crashed, construction crashed unemployment was running out, food stamps were a supplement. I was doing what labor I could find for cash. Timing belt on a Pontiac, head work on a Chevy, running hot tar kettle for a scab roofer, squeaking by.During this time it was normal to falsify my job search for unemployment, I noticed in the paper an add for fire fighters so I wrote them in. Then paranoia about the unemployment checking up on me, I submitted and application. When I got the application I realized that it was an on going process and I could use this for weeks on my job search resume. Then one of the operating engineers slipped on the job and broke his leg the company called me up and asked if I could fill in for him as a concrete pump operator and I was employed. The fire department kept sending me notification of tests and I kept up on them. Written(1500 applicants) Physical, grunt groan strain (800 testees) and then oral interview(100 testicles). Then 6 weeks and the results were posted, I came out 11 on the list they hired 14 on December 1st.
I had no Idea I would be thrust into an arena of people so smart and competent that they would challenge me every day of my career to just keep up. A huge shaping event in my life.
While all this transpired there is divorce followed by serial monogamy (its not an oxymoron) and a relationship with my son who was the center of my life..
Matt and I got into bicycles and rode thousands of miles together. When he reach the age of majority when he wanted to spread his wings and make it on his own he exercised his Independence. We really got back together over motorcycles. M/C's had been a part of my life since the early sixty's. 250 Honda scrambler, BSA 441 Victor, Yamaha DT1, Huskavarna, Hodaka super rat,Honda CX500D, V65 Magna, ST1100. Presently Suzuki Burgman, Drz400, KLR 650,CBR600 F4I(track Bike) and a Hyabusa(1999). Matt came on board with SV650 Susuki at the same time John graduated to Kawasaki ZZR1200, That's John of John & Debbie John a dear Friend of 35 yrs and the three of us had ridden bikes together. We first met when John was 16 and Matt was 9. Now we were three amigo's on moto's.
We did a couple of trips to Laguna Seca. and had some great times. John and I got back from a trip to the Bonneville Salt Flats in September of 07. We made great plans for the three of us to return and assault the salt. Matt died soon after. Matts influence spread to many peoples lives, 4 years later his peers gather as friends and testify to the significant influence he had.
In 08 John and I returned to the salt. John had qualified for his 175 MPH licence the year before, I was his pit boss and Terry was official tootsie Rod was advisor and speed freak extraordinaire.In 08 we went back with some of Matts ashes. On our last run John first we put Matts ashes in the belly pans of the fairings and John did a 199.99 mile per hour pass and I cracked a ton eighty(183.286). My pride of accomplishment is that I did it on a stone stock Busa, sans turn signals and mirrors. Present were John, Debbie, Rod, Phil & Jerry, Dixie and my sweetheart Terry. Honorable mention goes to Dale Wayne and Barry. Since Matts death I have also launched his ashes 2000 feet up in a rocket from his favorite beech and sprinkled his ashes on the Corkscrew at Laguna Seca.
Lots of these people have been in my life for 35 years some for 55. P&J let me crew on their boat, Cabo to Hawaii and some down the west coast.
When I turned 60 John gave me a T-shirt that had on the back writing that said, things to do before your sixty. Ride bicycle from Canada to Mexico-Ride bicycle 200 miles one day-Ride bicycle down the east coast Australia,without a gun-climb Mount Rainer-sail to Hawaii- Sail the San Juans and Gulf Ilse solo. Enough the list went on. They were all a lot of fun, and not possible with out a bit of obsessiveness.
Which brings me to the other star of the narrative, the KLR. for years in our M/C travels I have admired the KLR. In 07 I bought a used 06 (100 miles on)with the intent of modifying it for an adventure. I wasn't sure what adventure.
On Johns birthday I bought him a T-shirt that said "does this motorcycle make my butt look fast".It was a comment on one of the things that sickens our culture. The idea that form should take precedents over function is an aberrant symptom of the American culture. I call it the Harly syndrome. It doesn't make a difference if it works does it make me look good permeates modeling autos M/C's omens shoes, on and on.
To me the KLR is in your face rebuttal that idea. Its major design is about function, it works. So you want to do central America by M/C, you need a 150 MPH flash Machine-NOT. Why crack a walnut with a grape press. Apply the tool that accomplishes the task, that's niche the KLR fills.
My mods to it were basic done in my garage. Front fork springs changed to progressive wound coils. Rear shock replaced with after market, better adjustment. front fork brace. Aluminum skid plate, Might not have been a necessity for this trip. Free flow intake and exhaust. Steel braided brake lines, better feel. Assorted guards for brake reservoir water pump and stuff. I upgraded the frame bolts and the connection between the front and rear frame loops.Contrary to a lot of advice from the KLR community my modifications stiffened it up and eliminated flex. one train of thought is no fork brace and soft suspension. I opted to wire the spokes at there cross points to make the wheels more rigid.. I regretted none of the mods none.
I Central America predominately Mexico, maybe because there is more of it, you encounter speed control device called "Retardo". These are large speed bumps that slow trucks and buses to a stop. If you traverse them at speed it can launch the M/C into the air, the following suspension compression can be very stressful to the bike. The KLR negotiated these several times with no resulting damage other than luggage attachments.
OK soap box away ,rant over back to the blog. If your still with me thanks for the attention and merry Christmas,

Day 6 Dec 24

2011-01-12T05:58:00.000-08:00

On the road early, no hassles to Nogales. Its as close to an open border as I have experienced. On the Mex side the border leaches direct me to an insurance agent. I was told by others that have done this trip that its mandatory. I tried to comparison shop but came up with only one guy at the border that would sell M/C insurance.I planned on no more than 7 days in Mexico, it cost me 10 dollars a day, payable in USD cash, no haggling the price. I was never asked for proof at any of the stops by police or army. I wish I would have research this more. I did call Gieco and AIG for advice and they indicated mandatory and only available at border. I left the border and less than an hour south was a government roadside stop for passport stamp and tourist cards. Mandatory and not much of a problem. At this stop was an insurance agent that i did not check out but maybe he could have given me straighter answers than the border scum.
Nobody gave me advice about the fact that from the border to Guemos is a no hassle zone, that means they don't check vehicle registration or paper work. If you pass this zone and don't have the correct documents your bike can be confiscated! Normally you have to retrace your steps to the agent who is just south of Guemos and obtain papers (vehicular permisio)
It was not a big issue but I think I should have carried a bit more cash. Of course in different pockets in different places. I found that sometimes I needed strategically stashed 20$ bills. They would have eliminated the trip to an ATM and the exposure of the bike to an unguarded parking spot. On the occasions that I had to leave the bike it was handy to have a cable lock for the helmet, It also doubled for the sleeves of the jacket, and a tank bag that I could carry with me. Once I left the helmet and jacket cabled and on the way back I remembered there was a couple of wrenches in the pockets, they were there when I returned. On the other hand I had a flash light disappear from a zippered tank bag pocket while I was holding it, just distracted. I think security is a great topic for discussion and my Internet discussions with people did not prepare me for the reality.I survived, to this point.
On to Guemos, bureaucracy sated. The toll roads made it easier to eat miles. Here there called Carrillo Cuado, as apposed to Carrillo Libre. Aarrived with about 45 minutes of daylight left and I got a room and went for food, 600 miles on the odometer. in my search for food and drink I spotted a couple of bike outside a watering hole and stopped. There I met a couple of expats who started a conversation, nice guys. If it wasn't for them I would not have known about the vehicle permits and they gave me some good advice about some towns I should pass up. The towns to avoid can change on a whim and the current advice I think is the best. They had been here for a few years and said I made a mistake by not hanging out in San Carlos, I think they were right and would do that if in the area.

Day 5 Dec 22

2011-01-12T05:04:00.000-08:00

Destination today is a place called Pleasant Harbor, Just north of Pheonix. Its my only planned stop for more than one night.
Phil Jerry and there little dog Dixie ( P&J and D) are snow birds who summer in the High Cold and Lonely, read northern Washington, and winter in Pheonix area in there RV.
Kingman disappears in my mirror and its south on 93, the first 2 lane black top,white line fever. Uneventful trip just grind away, still didn't finish till the last 15 minutes of daylight.
Its really appropriate that this is called Pleasant Harbor. Being with P&J and D is like being back in the nest, Good anchorage with good ground tackle barometer steady.
Tomorrow will be a welcome day of rest with some laundry to do. Its time repack and eliminate some luggage. No more long johns. What to do with the water proof liner for the riding gear? Border crossings will require that paperwork be in a handy location. Good day to reevaluate organize before Mexico.

Day 4 Dec 21

2011-01-12T04:38:00.000-08:00

God spoke to Noah "NOAH" and Noah said "Huh". God said "NOAH" Noah replied "Am I on Candid Camera".
On the road at sunrise and connected to I5 south, the miles melted away. The weather man said there was a break in the pineapple express and the rain had a 20 hr period of easing up. The prediction was for a storm coming in to drop the most rain accumulation in recorded history. The record breaking weather event would be for a three day stretch and I might luck out by sliding through during a lull in the storms.
At Lost Hills I left I5 and headed east to Bakersfield, It started to rain hard. I recalled the decision at Cottage Grove, Where I could have taken the coast route and if I had it would have put me in the middle of the worst of this storm. In 8 hours California was going to experience mud slides, road closures and traffic jams that only Noah could relate to.
The storm up to this point had reeked enough havoc that the evidence was still obvious. I was off the freeway and on surface streets, at one intersection I couldn't judge the depth of the water and waited till a 4-wheeler crossed before I committed to the forge. Standing on the pegs the water came up just above the plastic bags covering my boots, wet feet now. I had forded a stream in Bakersfield Cal.
Up the Grape Vine and crest Tahachapi Pass. The rain really started coming down now. At about 60 to 65 MPH I could tuck down behind the wind screen with my face mack in the blast of air over the screen and it kept the face shield clear of water droplet visibility was not bad, and ergonomics were tolerable because I distributed some of my weight on the tank bag. On one normally dry river bed between Mohave and Barstow, on a divided Hwy I encountered a stretch of road where the visibility was confusing. The sand the water the road were all the same, the bike seemed to feel different. It seemed to be slowing down but not really. I finally registered that the road was covered by water the riverbed had become a lake. I was creating this spray - splash behind me that was gaihugic (big). At that speed I was out of the hydrofoil about the time I realized what was happening and I really could not testify as to how big the water hazard was. I am sure others have done it, and was really lucky to have had no traffic around me. The spray from a cage or a truck could have easily knocked me off the bike if we had entered at the same time unexpectedly.
The next time I experience a Gravity Storm, an event often occurring around a keg of beer late at night when the bullshit flows. I will be able to say "No shit I road my bike across the great Mohave Lake"
I arrived in Barstow just at dark in a hard rain, soaked to the bone, it was going to be a job drying out. Motel, rest, supper, warm, sleep.

Day 3 Dec 20

2011-01-11T06:06:00.000-08:00

This to will pass.
I got a good fresh start at first daylight and was feeling positive about the day ahead. After all I had made about 7 degrees of latitude south, California was on the horizon and it never rains in California.
Only a few miles down the road and I was starting up a pass that was going to crest above 4000 feet. Of course it started to snow but I get through this and its only 400 miles to Sacramento where I have a safe haven at Rick and Donna's. That's Terry's sis and brother in law.
Well there was to be many an obstacle twixt here and there.
The snow out of Ashland was a challenge but never developed past single tracks of wet pavement. I dropped some elevation and the snow disappeared. On the flats there was a bit of high winds just before Weed. As I said before the bike was a compromise on side wind stability and it is tiring tensing against the buffeting.
The wind abated a bit just about the time the CDOT (Cal. Dept. of Trans.)set up a road block diverting cars that were two wheel drive and advising them they could not proceed without traction devices. The implication is that it could get bad between weed and Shasta, right. They waved me on through.
The road turned to snow with wet tire tracks then at about 3500 feet it went all white, then hard snow and visibility decreasing. I am thinking that I am close to summit and conditions should improve after, its the last pass I'll push on a little farther.
The snow increased and the ruts got deeper. I couldn't climb out of the right hand lane rut at times, it was at least real difficult. My riding technique here is to weight the pegs as much as you can it allows the bike to squirm under you and you have a better chance of accommodating its lack of traction. I don't contend I know what I'm doing its just what works for me. Standing on the pegs at about 15 to twenty MPH is complicated by the snow build up on my helmet visor, I have to wipe it off with my left hand every few seconds.
I am in the right most rut when one of my cleaning swipes revealed the sign that indicated summit. Alright now I can drop some elevation and get out of this stuff. WRONG. It got worse I had to go even slower , the 18 wheelers with chains on were passing me. The slush was smacking me and ice was building up on the bike and fairing and my chest.
Again at about 3500 ft it started to rain, black ribbons of wet pavement appeared in the wheel ruts and if I tucked behind the wind screen the air pressure generated by about 40 MPH helped the visor stay clear.
I don't know how much time had passed, I am sure my perception was a life time longer than the reality.
It was the last challenge of this type and I had a couple hundred miles to Rick and Donna's safe haven.
I stopped in Redding for coffee and a warm up. The severe soaking and thermal degradation at Shasta was still effecting me. The 65 MPH speeds and the 50 degree temp was still sucking body heat from me.
I remember talking to a sailor in Hawaii who fell off his boat in the middle of the Pacific half way on his passage to Hawaii. His wife and brother in law were crew, they saw it happen and did everything hey could to stop the boat. They threw anything that was in reach that would float overboard, life rings, lines, a cooler, cushions. He was in the water watching the boat get smaller and collecting some of this stuff. the swells and sea conditions contributed to them not stumbling on him for 9 hrs. He survived. The point is he related to me that hypothermia was a major concern. In 70 degree water for that time span his mental capacity had diminished greatly and his muscles wouldn't cooperate. When he saw the boat he thought it was a hallucination, but yelled at it anyway.
Now as I recall that tail I am looking for my exit, the one after the Sacramento Air Port, 99n to Marysville. Now which way does that throttle twist to slow me down? Then I'm on the ramp to the stop sign. there's no stop sign on the 99n ramp! So I turn left and find myself going the wrong way on the road leading out of the Air Port. Hypothermia sneaks up on you. I stop off the road opened up my clothing checked the pocket warmers, they had ran out of O2 and hardened. I massaged them into heaters again and put them under my turtle neck next to my carotids.I could feel the black riding gear absorbing heat from the sun. I was there for about 20 minutes a 20 minutes that would have been better spent earlier.
I held the speed down reducing the wind chill and started out again. It was about 15 miles to Rick and Donna's. Safe haven, hot shower and at 4Oclock a 45 Minute nap in a warm blanket I was exhausted.
No Excuses for how stupid some of this was, but a comment. When you establish an itinerary you complicate the issues and increase the risks. If you sail to the next port or climb a mountain under deadline pressure you make risk management more difficult.
I know this and still set a priority to see Rick and Donna before they left for Xmas Holiday. Slipping that little thing in was damn near suicide.
Mia culpa Mia culpa Mia Maxima culpa.

Day 2 Dec19

2011-01-10T03:09:00.000-08:00

"YOU BOUGHT THE TICKET TAKE THE RIDE"
We had a great time last night visiting with freinds and extended family. Because I was going to be on the road this was my Christmas. Terry was spending hers with her daughters family, we would be together in spirit.
I started stirring early and was donning riding gear about 6am. I planned not to ride in the dark but this is my back yard and I know these roads well. We got a traffic report that I5 was having problems so I opted for surface streets for the first 50 miles.
Terry John Deby and Rod gave me a nice send off, There is an inkling about leaving a safe harbor that haunts you at times like this. Its not a fear, its more like an awareness that this is your decision.
Hugs kisses well wishing all around and I was outbound to the freeway to make connetions. At the turn on to the ramp my low beams failed and I thought OK switch to high and fix it in the day light. On the ramp the high beam failed. I took mthe first off and then lefts to the oppisite direction and back to Johns. The household had started settling in after my departure and could not believe I was back.
A flurry of activity ensued and the bike was dismantled. Fuses were checked circuits checked. We finally found a broken ground spade on the headlight bulb. Inside the plug. John had a DRZ400 in the garage and we canabalized the bulb from it. I had planned on uing a 80-100 bulb and johns was the stock amp 50-80 but it would get me started.
Its now 9.15am and i'm repacked and on my way, the KLR has a range thats more than the 200 miles I had on the tank so I thought I would make Salem and fill the tank there. I went on reserve a little before I thought I should and filled at 240 miles with 4.2 gallons. that means I have a very substantial reserve.I was riding along pondering the advantages of shortening the pick up tube, thus extending the main tank miles and shortening the reserve tank miles and decided the prsent status was adequate. After all the main tank would last longer than my bladder.
200 hundred miles, no stops, then water in, water out,gas and go. I-5 soputh bound ,do that 3 times a day and you eat up maps. I was actually hoping for 400 mile days not 600.
It is cold and I have so many clothes on that John and Rod had been teasing my about a new handle, RIP VON ZIPPER. Actually a character from Annette and Franky beach movies. I carry the ashes of my departed son around my neck in a vial. Matt was getting warm and warmer and then hot. I had packed disposable pocket warmers in strategic pockets to help minimize heat loss. I thought maby that was contributing to this discomfort. A hundred miles into this and I had to stop again to investigate this source of heat, it was getting uncomfortable.
Six zippers and I was at the vial, there was a red mark on my chest as if the heat was slight irritant. No biggy.I moved the vial and thought I would try the road again. I was at a quicky mart and took the opportunity to use the head.
No urgency here just precautionary urination. while i was releaving myself I squeeked out a little fart.SHIT MY PANTS! Well i proved the adage about over sixty not trusting dry dreams and wet farts.
Seventeen zippers in so many seconds later I was on the throne experiencing evacuation cataclismic. I personaly know government employees that would have gone on disability from such an event. Yes it would have crippled a lesser man.
Now i'm sitting, pants around knees, gaze fixed on an unholy sight. What was to be done? Out came my leatherman and I cut the underwear off, threw them in the garbage and started wiping. The mess had been contained in the underwear. Nice start 150 miles and only 5000 to go.
This section of I-5 is boring. Seventy indicated is sixty five true speed and holds the tach at just shy of five grand. Its 40 degrees f and at this speede the wind chill is a factor. I've got t-shirt long johns sweater rain liner and riding gear on the top. Long johns denim trousers rain liner and riding gear in bottoms, the underwear wasn't a factor here. The top zips to the bottoms of the riding gear and has the pads that have almost become standard, elboes hips knees shoulders and spine pads.
The pocket warmers work well but I found out that after an hour they would start to starve for O2. They would cake up and get hard then stop producing heat until I massaged them into granuals again. there normal life was over 8 hours, I was so air tight. I had put plastic bags over my shoes and electicians tape was securing them on.The foot protection served me well and I did hit some real rain.
I have been mulling a decision that is coming up for months. At Cottage Grove I can turn west and follow the coast down or stay on I-5 and try for southern latitudes faster.
W. F. Buckly said "Where there are no options there are no problems". The coast was going to be a longer route with a greater possibility of wet 45 degree weather with some winds off the beam. Winds can be a hassle with a bike with this high a center of gravity and this weight{relatively light for this application}.
Straight south would be less miles but greater chance of bad passes this time of year. ODOT did not predict bad weather on the passes and temperatures were supposed to be in the high 30's.
I opted for I-5 at the last second, I could make ashland before dark and that would be close to 400 miles. After the other delays I thought it was closer to my goal.
With about 100 miles to go, just before Wolf Creek there is a pass elevation about 2000 feet. As I approached this pass it started to snow. It was sticking on the sides of the lanes but the tire tracks were wet pavement. At the exact summit the wet pavement disapeared and turned to solid snow, the traffic stopped, a parking lot and the snow was building. I'm looking at all these people sitting in there cars with there heaters running and snow is building. I started splitting lanes imediately. idling along at 10 15 mph,left side, right side, beteen lanes, whatever it took to drop elevation. I made it to clear traffic in about 45 minutes. I made it into ashland just before dark. The hotel had a parking lot pub with a good restuarant and a open mike night with pretty good talent. I was in bed early relaxed rested fed.

Day 1 Dec 18

2011-01-09T06:45:00.001-08:00

I left P-Low mid morning going to P-Town, Terry was going to leave a little later and we would meet at a friends house there. I was following the weather reports closely and new I had the possibility of bad weather.The weather doesn't usually sock in and stay bad for more than a few days, if it did I would delay.
I encountered about 20 miles of snow around Shelton, no real traffic problems as can sometimes happen when others on the road are not used to the conditions. The motorcycle was handling and running like it did in the shakedown runs, no surprises. The run down took about four hours and some change, usually I can make it in three an a half. The snow did slow me a bit but it was slushy and an inch deep. At 440 pounds the bike was getting adequate traction if I held the speed to reasonable.John was waiting with the garage door open finishing up last minute prep for their employee Xmas bash Terry and I were staying the night but were gong out to a local pub to meet other folks. There were plans to meet with a few younger friends to congratulate each other on making it to another Christmas season.All was well and Christmas was cheery. Early to bed and start the real trek in the morning.

The chapters by day

2011-01-09T06:45:00.000-08:00

The chapters of my adventure will be posted in a serial manner of days in sequence as I recall them. Generally the trip took 15 days with one day of layover with P J& dixie in Pheonix, so 14 days of riding for 5000 plus miles. I think some of the readers may not appreciate some of the language, I have tried to tone it down a little. the reality is I did clean it up. Communication skills being what they are vulgarity is often resorted to, by everybody.