Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

As we're spending the night in the border town of Macara, which is a bit of a one-horse town, we get to lie in this morning, so we don't arrive too early. So I updated the blog and sorted my things out, then checked the oil on the bike... it had been replaced in Bogotá but had already burnt a fair bit, so when we stopped at the garage for fuel I bought some more to top it up. It's not unusual for R1150GS' to burn oil, but they usually stop as the mileage rises, and now mine has 38,000 miles I'd have expected it to stop burning as much... will just have to keep an eye on it going forwards...

Riding as a small group with Kevin and Julia and a couple of others we headed out of town and back into the mountains. The road was as it was yesterday, mostly great tarmac and sweeping bends, but with the occasional stretch of dirt and potholes, typically just round a bend, requiring maximum concentration even when riding behind others. After almost two and a half hours of constant riding we stopped at a little roadside café for some lunch and a drink – no guinea pig today, just chicken and chips for $2...





Whilst we were eating, several families walked down the hill past where we were sat, all dressed int their Sunday best. The traditional clothing of the indigenous people of Ecuador on full display, complete with hats. They were also tiny people, and looked even smaller as they walked past the huge motorcycles we are riding...





After lunch we continued on our way, the road still challenging for its varied surfaces, sometimes good, sometimes dreadful. After a while, Kevin pulled to the side of the road and we stopped behind him. He'd heard his mobile phone buzzing in his pocket and stopped to check the messages. It was bad news, Simon had had a crash before La Paz, which was back up the mountain about 2 hours behind us. A few hurried exchanges of messages and we got the news he was alright, completely unhurt, but the bike had suffered a puncture and they (Aaron was with him) didn't have a repair kit. As the F800GS he's riding has tubed tyres (unlike our tubeless ones) we also didn't have a repair kit so there was no point in heading back to meet them. They were getting the bike in the back of a truck and taken to Saragua, a slightly larger town where they eventually managed to get the puncture fixed and the clutch lever housing repaired. Relieved they were all OK and able to sort the problem out, we continued on our way and arrived at the hotels we were staying in (2 next door to each other) around 5.30pm. Gradually the others arrived and we lined the bikes up on the road outside the hotels, trying to ensure we'd got enough room for all 20. Then a small group arrived including Nigel, who had also had a crash. Only his was worse, as he'd gone down hard as a result of (in his own words) entering a corner too fast and finding a car on the wrong side of the road, the natural reaction of grabbing the brake enough to have him fall. He was visibly shaken and had a sore shoulder, but no broken bones, which was very lucky. His bike was worse for the crash, but once again the crash bars had done their job and saved the engine. The front subframe, on which mounts the screen and instruments, had bent and broken and the screen was badly scratched. His nearside pannier was also badly bent out of shape, but nothing Jeff won't be able to knock back into shape when we finally meet up with him again. The bike was rideable, which is also lucky as we currently have no support van, it being still in customs in Ecuador, waiting for Jeff to clear it, hopefully tomorrow, and then catch us up again. So whilst Nigel took some painkillers we did our best to make his bike a little more solid, removing the screen, swapping his right mirror for his broken left one (so he can see what's behind him as we're riding on the right), and generally cable-tying up the loose bits. It's a warning to us all to ensure we're taking it steady and riding with maximum concentration, especially late in the day (his crash was just 30 miles or so from the hotel).





After we'd sorted his bike and Simon had arrived, his bike showing no real signs of the crash (but his new trousers, that he'd bought at a premium in Bogotá, were trashed), we went to the little café round the corner for dinner (Macara doesn't have any real restaurants). The chicken soup and carne with mushrooms were excellent, as was the beer, which helped quench what was now a raging thirst...

Tomorrow is another border day... and then we're into Peru!