Garys page

Monday 14th April.

I’m sitting on the bed in the same hotel we had 2 weeks ago, a bit bored, just finished half a bottle of Bacardi so I thought it was a good time to get on the puter and tell you my side of the events of the last 2 weeks.

Just to be an awkward bugger I’m going to summarise at the beginning of the story instead of the end.

India and Enfields have many similarities and if I stayed here 6 years I still don’t think I would get it. The Enfield is in a time warp because of the attitude of the Indians, there is never a problem with any thing they make or anything in the county it self, nobody sees the problems so nobody fixes them. We spent a day with the marketing manager of Enfields in Madras and he had rode to third place in a rally raid in the top end of India on a 500cc bullet engined motocross bike, he doesn’t ride off-road competition events normally, but his opinion was and I quote: “KTM’s aren’t as good as Enfields because they aren’t reliable and have got radiators,there was one guy on a KTM and he had moose things in his tyres and they broke”.

The first of many mechanics we visited used an adjustable spanner and a hammer to fix the fork seals on one of the bikes, fucks the threads on the bottom of one of the forks and buggered up the petrol tap trying to get petrol out to clean the components up, he just dropped the bits he took off on the dirt floor and his mate was walking on them. Back to the hotel where I started to voice my concern to the hotel owner and he looked at me like I was the devil himself! There are no bad people in this town and I’m sure you don’t mean to insult him because you are probably a very nice man yourself. All very nice but not healthy if you want to move forward a little.

We just sit in restaurants saying why don’t they give that wall a coat of paint or pick all that rubbish up over there in the corner, but no, 4 of them will watch bollywood on TV while an old duck will brush crap off a path just so the wind can blow it back a bit later.

At this point I will say that I have fallen in love with Royal Enfields and also with India itself, they both ooze character and one day I will return!

Now the last 2 weeks.

We set off late on Monday went the wrong way and did about 35kms on a seriously shit road, Loo grabbed the front brake at the sight of a very large dusty hole and came off just behind me (I had stopped just the other side of the hole to warn her of the approaching hazard) At one point I looked behind to see Loo’s front wheel air born coming off a bridge which looked like it had been bombed, holes and bits of re-bar poking out all over the shop.

 Loo has a wire attached to a wrong terminal somewhere, on a nice bit of tarmac she will change down a couple of gears but show her some fat speed bumps and she is on the gas like David Knight at Weston beach race. (The dusty hole was a no win situation.)

Hampy was a great hippy hang out with a shit mechanic, then more very bad roads to the middle of nowhere. New front brake light switch on my bike, more bad roads to a hill resort with a setting to die for, in its day this place must have been awesome but now rubbish, cows eating rubbish and peeling paint. More Mechanics, spring in the gearbox broke on Loo’s bike, on again to the next mechanic for wheel bearing, tyre, split link, tappet adjustment tighten bolts, grease chains etc. Good mechanics this time so a tip was given that was twice as much as the bill.

On to the Enfield factory, “can we have a look around?” “No.” Said we were doing magazine articles, “can we take some pictures of the bikes lined up over there?” “No it is a holiday”, “can we come back tomorrow?” “No.” “Bye then.” “Bye.”

Then we meet the marketing manager on the road, he was riding his 500 and he showed us to a hotel and we meet him and his mate the next day and had a great time.

On again until Loo’s head gasket blew, all fixed in 1 hour and 10 minutes by a good mechanic who couldn’t see us, all he could see was Rupees, over charged us so no tip there then. The next day was mechanic free and a hot slow ride though Bangalore and the strangest meal I have ever set eyes on in the evening! Next day an oil change and gear adjustment and a new air filter hose on my bike, I came back from the spares shop with the hose and a new air filter and said can you pop that in while you are at it. This he could not handle because he is the mechanic and it is his job to say if the bike needs a new air filter, so without looking in side the air box he says there is nothing wrong with the old one and even after looking at the old shitty filter still refuses to replace it. The gears where worst after the adjustment so he gets me to place my foot on the foot rest and adjusts the footrest to suit my boot, “now try it” Steam was coming out of my ears at this point but I’m British and so polite I just took it down the road and back finding more neutrals than gears. “Let me try it” and off he goes no problem there. Arrogant twat just couldn’t believe he could get it wrong.

On again missing gears for a past time to a beautiful beach, we stayed 2 nights but just can’t seem to fit in with the hippies “yea my yoga teacher is so cool man” “Oh is he that’s nice” end of conversation.

The last day it was back to Goa and a few beers back at the hotel.

Loo saw a cow get run over and had a near miss with a truck or a bus about every 5kms, she spent more time in the ditch than on the road, poor old Loo will be having nightmares about this part of the trip for years to come! I had my fair share of ditch riding but the worst ones where my own cock ups. A two lane road with a wide gravel central reservation on a long sweeping bend came up so stupidly I assumed the cars coming the other way would be on there side of the road so I unleashed the vast power of the Enfield and went for a full on stand scraper, well we both saw each other at the last minute, he went on to the gravel while I was stamping on the right hand gear change looking for the back brake, after 2500kms when push comes to shove I was still getting the brake and gears the wrong way around.

Another time I just didn’t see the truck coming the other way and again I suffered a red face and my right hand boot pushing wildly on the gear lever, the brakes are shit but they slow you down a bit if you can remember which pissing side they are on.

Most of the time though I was having a ball riding anyway I fancied, in towns I could get past half a dozen trucks on the inside weaving in and out of tutt tutts, people and pushbikes, and on the dirt roads I could piss all over even the maddest truck driver as he bounced off his seat, my nimble little bike could pick a path between the lot of them.

I have this great picture in my head of 3 trucks coming down the fucked up road and there in the cloud of dust trying to get past was poor little Loo, she was the same colour as the road and so was her bike and she looked so small in between the lumbering beasts, I just wish I had a camera in my hand at that moment, it would have been a classic.

We are leaving India on Thursday after four and half weeks, but four and a half months would do it more justice as we have only just scratched the surface of this mad country and its mad people.

I have said “why” so many times to so many bizarre sights, but this one stands out. A simpleton standing on the side of a busy road in a busy town wearing only a shirt that was 4 times too small for him, mouth wide open, cupping his meat and two veg, why the hell doesn’t someone put some pants on the poor sod?

Next instalment drekly my lovers.

Here we are in Goa, India.

So far I have rented a Pulsar 150cc, a Royal Enfield 350 and today my chosen steed is a Honda scooter, I’m loving riding around looking at the bizarre sights, yesterday’s sight of the day was 2 young gay Indian lads, one was leading the other by his cock, which was a fair plan because if they held hands the lad being lead couldn’t carry on eating his bag of crisps.

Malaysia was a great country, we rode up the east coast stopping in cheap posh hotels and loved being on the Dommies again. We planned to enter Thailand on the northeast border crossing but where advised against it by several people because of problems in that corner of Thailand, so an early start and a ride from east coast to west coast was planned. Well what a ride that was, corner after corner though rain forest and palm plantations, we stopped for lunch at just over a 1000 metres and then back down to the heat of the lower levels towards Penang, this ride came close to that magical ride up to Cusco in Peru. After a couple of days on the beach and a ride around the island it was illness for me and a change of plan for the bike shipping. I had an ear infection so a trip to the doctors for a hot wash and some antibiotics, then an eye infection which made me look like Quasimodo and then a temperature and hot sweats which didn’t seem to want to go away, another Doctor and he did a blood test to check for Dengue fever, this was inconclusive so he said come back on Friday for another test. After two worrying days we went back to the hospital a bit late to find the doctor had gone home, some young lad asked what I wanted then went and got my notes and blood test results looked down though and waved his hand at me and said you don’t have Dengue fever, I will never know if he was a cleaner or what but he made me feel a whole lot better.

In this sick period we managed to get the bikes in a container and in the docks, flights booked for Goa and on with the next leg.

We got into Goa at about 6.00am and Lisa and Matthew came in at 11.00am, I was beside myself with excitement and the customs officer let me run in to the baggage reclaim area to met them. Since then we have been doing the tourist thing swimming in the pool, a boat trip to see dolphins and lots of shopping and eating.

Went to the Royal Enfield dealer ship a couple of days ago and got some prices:

350cc electric start 5 speed L/H gear lever £1141.00 Shipping to Southampton £593.00. VAT to be paid in England £200.00.

So a total of just under £2000.00 for a brand new Enfield in England.

If I ship a few home the shipping costs should come down so place your orders and I will get busy with my credit card.

Well I better get out on my scooter to check out the sights around town, cows in shops, gay love etc.etc.

LISA’S BIT  

It is crazy hot here, that was the first thing we noticed, getting off the plane with our jeans and 3 layers on. It’s the sixth day now but I am still sweating more than is really ladylike. The airport was quite intimidating, all jetlagged and bewildered with about 7 people trying to help you with your baggage when you really wanted to carry it yourself, then all sticking their hands out for “some English coin?” I’m glad Dad was there to fend them off because I would have weakened straight away and handed over all my money like a victim of a mugging.

Then we got into a taxi and made our way to a hotel. Indians drive like crazy mofos, overtaking and swerving and tooting their horns wildly. I clung to Loo’s arm with my claws like a little cat.

Eventually we got to our hotel and luckily Dad and Loo could get a room there too, though their room is not as splendid as mine and Matt’s. Ours has some armchairs and an Occasional Table even! It is good that we have more space though because I haven’t shared a room with my brother since I was about 5. I have only had brief murderous thoughts, when it is the middle of the night and I cannot sleep for Matt’s incessant nose-whistling.

We have done quite a lot this week, on Tuesday we went on a boat trip to see dolphins, that was amazing. A couple jumped right out of the water, back-flipping and spinning. The boat stopped briefly so we could have a little swim in the sea, and It also stopped near the Fort Aguada prison on the cliff, and a criminal waved merrily at us. I forgave him at once for his murdering, he was so friendly. Then we had a barbecue on the beach, all this was included in the price of a mere £10!

Wednesday we went to a flea market on the beach in Anjuna, that was an experience. The sellers were very persistent, particularly the bongo sellers for some reason, who followed you banging a drum by your ear, as if this would make you want to buy one. Me and Loo got some really nice wall hangings and bed cover, haggling like demons. Then a man poked a cocktail stick in Dad’s ear, and dug out a bit of wax. He was an Ear Picker, by trade. The most noble profession.

Other than that we have swum lots in the pool, Matt is doing about a million lengths a day. Loo is quite terrifying though, she bobs about in a rubber ring, all sharky eyes and predatory. We are all scared of her.

Food’s been good until yesterday, we stopped for lunch in this café, it smelt a bit of bleach and drains. Me and Dad ordered toasted chicken sandwiches, and they looked a bit grim, a few shreds of grey chicken smeared about on some bread, but we probably would have chomped them down except Loo’s fish she had ordered was off, so we got all nervous and didn’t eat them. I had only had a little nibble of the chicken and a bit of the bread, but yesterday night I felt an ominous gurgling in my bowel. And Lo and Behold, squit squit squitto. “Why me?” I cried piteously, as the toilet bowl filled alarmingly. So today we are hanging around the hotel, so I am within sprinting distance of the loo. Feeling a bit better though. I will stop talking now. Tata! Xxx

 

MATT’S BIT:

It’s very hot and sticky here. I’ve spent plenty of time in the pool cooling off each day. It was here in the pool where I met a new friend. As I swam merrily about, I caught a glimpse of a young lizard who went by the name of little Herb. He didn’t have much to say, but we quietly acknowledged each other as I swam towards him. After a refreshing morning swim, little Herb was struggling to get out of the pool (foolishly ignoring the steps). I gave him a small encouraging push, which did little to help the guy. He scrabbled to get up the side, but kept falling back into the water. He looked frustrated and I pretended not to watch his toils, afraid that I might inflame the situation. After swimming a few more lengths, I saw that little Herb had still not scaled the swimming pool side and exhibited a rather embarrassed expression.

I offered up a leaf for him to clamber on to, which he duly accepted. As I gently set the leaf down, little Herb ran onto my hand where he sat for some time. We shared stories of previous travels and adventures until he decided he’d better go. As he scuttled through the undergrowth with a quick pause and a nod to his saviour, I thought of his adventures yet to come. The days down by the seaside, the mountaineering holidays, which he so enthusiastically recommended. I plan to spend the remainder of the holiday beginning my bibliography of the lizard who changed my whole outlook on life with his tales of family life in nearby Kafallalugahmolyland. Of course, in the book he will adopt the name Pete for security reasons. If you see little Herb wandering about on your own travels, please tell him that he is welcome to come to mine for the night if he’s partying in St. Agnes

Singapore

Well here we are in Singapore, the last couple of weeks have taken on a bit of a posh turn for us, we left Bunbury and headed for Fremantle to stay with a friend of Tiffs who she met in South America, apparently they lay on the road on Ruta 40 to get out of the wind had a chat, met up a few more times and have been mates ever since. Well Lance loves money like I love cake! He owns more bikes than me and they aren’t pieces of shit neither! He has a 4 storey house with wall to wall TV and more champagne in the fridge than food, we pay less for about 10 bottles of wine than he pays for 1 bottle of port, he is so rich when he has sex he pays someone to lift him on and off and to grunt for him! Anyway he went out and got himself a Roller while we where there, so we went swanning around up the swan valley wine tasting darling, what a hoot! Then bless his posh little cotton socks, he only went and dropped us at the airport in it.

Then on to Singapore where we meet up with an associate of Loo’s in the printing business, he is only staying in a mother of an hotel in the executive suite and invites us up for cocktails and nibbles don’t you know! Singapore pissing slings and pork scratchings, yea baby!

Since then I have been up to my elbows in oil and grease sorting the bikes out. Loo’s was running bad, she said “shit in the carb” so I did. (the old ones are the best eh) It was dirt in the main jet so sorted that cleaned and oiled the air filters, changed the oil and cleaned the stainless steel oil filters, (bet Lance hasn’t got stainless steel oil filters), put a new set of wheel bearings in mine and we are ready to go. I will let you know what I have cocked up or forgotten next time.

Bye for now, going out drinking with a prostitute called Ting Tong and a she he called Ralph.

Real Aussie Tucker

Well we are now in Western Australia sitting in our little two-man tent listening to Grace Jones on the laptop. The bugs have been in, they got a warning, “Louise and Gary would like some privacy now, so if you could vacate the premises it would be very much appreciated thank you so much for your cooperation” then I killed the bastards with my mega can of Motrin bug spray.

Today was one of those days where we had just done too much biking and needed to kick back (get pissed) we started to look for a motel but like every thing in Australia it was too expensive, so after just 200 kms we put the tent up in a posh camp site and spent what we saved on a bottle of red wine and a 6 pack of Toohey’s extra dry. (We may be pissed off with the price of every thing but at least we are happy?) Drink… don’t you just love it!

Well after my last rant, I found my mo-jo… it was in the River View pub in Balmain, Sydney! We rented a place 50 yards up the road, it had an international corner where we met a guy from Falmouth, a drunk welsh woman and a Kiwi called Kiwi Frank. Now you would think that was an obvious name for a bloke from New Zealand but that is not why he was called Kiwi Frank, as we found out after a few sherbets one evening. Apparently when Frank was about 18 and still living in New Zealand he was in a wild life park and decided he wanted to catch a Kiwi bird, so over the fence he goes and takes chase! Well he must have been a nippy little bugger because he got him and got the shit peeked out of himself and has been known as Kiwi Frank ever since. Then there was Bruce (its true) he owns a crayfish farm in Cambodia, he employs local workers for not a lot, then sells the crays for the daily Sydney Cray fish rate to all the up market hotels catering for all the rich “must see Angkor Wat” brigade. He even feeds the crays rice husks from the rice farm next door to fatten them up a bit.

Since then we have got a couple of XT 600s, a tent, some roll mats, some sleeping bag liners, (we had a duvet already) and have ridden across Australia.

On the way across I noticed a few things, Freddo frog chocolate bars went from 60cents to $1.15 right in the middle and back down to 80 cents at the other end. Some people don’t seem very happy working out there. We went in a roadhouse for a coffee, had a sniff and it smelt burnt, it also tasted burnt and so did Loo’s. Now I’m 48 and have never complained about a cup of coffee before but this was the day. So in my polite English manner I explained the problem, “nothing wrong with it” came the reply, “perhaps you could smell it”.. “Smells ok, I’ve been making coffee for years”.. “ Perhaps you should taste it”..”Nothing wrong with it” and with that he walks off. We put our $10 paper cups down and started to walk out but it just wasn’t right. A young fat bloke was stood there so I told him I wasn’t happy, he looked at the floor and went to get the other bloke who came out again and mumbled something about the milk being off and then made another one. This time it just tasted of hot milk so we left them and pressed on with the trip.

13th feb 2008

We are in Bunbury now where I lived for 18 months back in 1981 and 1982, it has changed a tat in 25 years for example the flat I lived in got blown down in a cyclone 2 years ago! Funny old life there was 4 flats and they where all owned by the church next door, I suppose they spent the rent on maintaining the church roof etc. Well when this cyclone hit, it tore a big chunk of Bunbury to bits, the church, the 4 flats and St. John of God hospital, a hospital ran by nuns and that was about it. To me that says he most certainly does work in mysterious ways or it is the most cunning insurance job in world history!

We got Loo’s XT rego today which we where a little concerned about because every one we spoke to about getting a bike inspected did that suckie in though puckered lips thing and then suggested we don’t bother. Well I gave it my own little pre MOT back at the campsite after jet washing and cleaning best I could, took it around to the inspection place and he was on a par with Dougie Kendle in the good old days of “oh don’t bother bout getten out the van boy I can see she’s a bootie”.

It was around to the RTA next to get west Australian plates and to return the old NSW plate which Loo desperately wanted to keep to put on her office wall back home. Not a chance the inspection man said, no you see it is government property said a kindly lady wanting to help. So we came up with a story of,” it fell off on the way here”. And then chickened out at the last minute, but Loo said lets leave it on the bike any way. Well the lady didn’t even ask for it, so Loo got her plate for the wall. Beats a shitty hand painted china job eh?

Check out the pics of Aussie tucker, you know that old line one lump or two, well yes that is a flag standing up in the gravy! The only rules the roadhouse cooks have are if it tastes like shit add more salt, unfortunately this only makes the food taste like salty shit.

Made an ass of myself a week ago and only found out about it yesterday, I will explain:

In a camp ground in south Australia about a week ago, Loo went to bed so I said I’m off exploring for a bit. I went out of the camp site and started going up the road towards the town, I then stopped in my tracks at the sight of a dog standing next to a electric pole, you all know I’m scared shitless of dogs so I returned to the tent adventure-less and told Loo of my problems. Yesterday Loo had all her pics on the laptop and we where having a look through, and there was the same dog in the same place, that’s the dog I shouted in disbelief. Loo just wet her pants, it was a cardboard cutout!

Tune in next month for the great adventures of… Loo and Gary go to mystery moor. {Or Singapore}

AUSTRAILIA. WHAT HAS HAPPENED?

I emigrated to oz in 1981, my chubby faced mate Bazza had a boat and we had a ball water sking, diving and fishing. Motorcyles are in my blood though and I soon got a Bultaco 250 sherpa, a Suzuki PE 175 and a Montesa cota 200 and a Holden HQ ute to cart them to events.

I actually won the Bunbury trials championship! (trials wasn’t big in western Austrailia back in the early 80’s)

I broke my arm less than a km into a time card enduro on the nippy little twin shock PE and spent many many hours in the bush trail riding seeing lots of weird and wonderful wild life.

After 2 years it was back to Cornwall for 3 years then back to Oz for another 9 months before my 1st child was conceived on a Yamaha XT 250 which was in the back of Bazza’s ute being driven down a dirt road at about 100 km’s an hour after drinking a slab of Emu export stubbies and smoking a bag of home grown from a bong shaped like a large black penis. Actually thinking about it…the contents of the last paragraph has mistruths, it could have been me driving the ute?

The XT got me a win in the trail class of an enduro which was one of my better rides because it wouldn’t pull the skin off a rice pudding.

Well 20 years later I’m back and how it has changed! We have been up and down the east coast between Byron bay and Melbourne in our hire van while waiting for the bikes. OK we have just come from South America but the MONEY here!! I hate to say it but it is like America!

Apparently all the homeowners are spending there newly inherited equity on all the toys, speed boats, campers, big twincab 4 wheel drive utes. Hummers! More Hummers than we saw in America!

Yesterday I saw the biggest 4 wheel drive I have ever seen towing the biggest jet ski I have ever seen, if this was to make up for a small dick then this guy must have a bean sprout!

It is the holiday capital of the world, if you can imagine Newquay with sunshine, money invested in it and lots of rich people filling the streets instead of London football fans pissed up on Fosters then you are still not close.

 

The east coast of oz is like one of those girls that walk past a pavement café in Paris, so so beautiful but god don’t they know it!

  Gary Prisk 2008.

OK so I don’t know how to describe it, but I know we couldn’t afford a backpackers hostel in Sydney, a small bar of Caburys dairy milk is $2.30, over a pound! A trail ride on a poxy Suzuki DRZ 400 is $330.00 and we have been 4 times over budget all the time we have been here. And another thing!! A dirt bike mag $10.00! and I have bought 5 of of pissing things. Parking ticket $79.00!!!! I could of bribed my way out of jail for Llama shagging in Bolivilia for that sort of money! Camp sites $35.00 minimum no thanks mate.

And where have all the Abo’s gone? The only ones we have seen are making a fortune wearing silly make up and playing digery doos between the Opera house and Sydney harbour bridge! They used to live in the poorer suburbs, drive around pissed up in very old Vallients, go home and burn the skirting boards.

I don’t think there are any poor suburbs or old cars here any more.

Hopefully in my next report we will find a cheap way to travel, towns with character and characters, beer for thurpence a pint and some real Aussies that will spend some time to talk to a couple of poms!

Long time no talk!

A month has passed since I last put pen to paper, or finger to key, or letters to screen? It is now the 30th of December 2007. It is 9.15am I’m sitting on two second hand $30.00 mattresses in the back of a Toyota Hi ace rental van in Kiama a small town about a 100 kms down from Sydney. We parked up in a car park over looking a beautiful crescent shaped beach, with the towns lights twinkling away about a mile in the distance. We had an evening all alone last night and parked with the rear ‘up and over’ door up looking over the bay drinking beer and wine.

 Cusco, Peru to here.

We carried on with Tim to La Paz, Bolivia. Lake Titicaca was a great stop, (the bit I remember was a cup of tea stop over looking the lake away from people). We didn’t go right into La Paz, we kind of skirted around it, but had an awesome view of the city from the dirt road slums we rode though, we know how to holiday! To aid the water shortage in the area we erected our tent for the 3rd time, and sure as eggs is eggs it pissed down. We found that our North Face tent let water pour in though the ground sheet, but wouldn’t let it out again, ideal for collecting water from an African well but piss useless as a tent!

A couple more days of Loo with the shits at the highest town in the world, (Potosi). Maybe it is just the air pressure, like the exploding shampoo bottle? Then on to a great dirt road towards Argentina, I would race on with the camera as an excuse, “I’ll go on and get a shot of you coming up the road hun” then I would be gone sometimes looking down at my Speedo just to see if I could cut the mustard in the Dakar, all good scary fun. Then a wait with the camera poised and then another good old chase to catch Loo up again. It was all over to soon, then came the boredom that is border crossings.(maybe the word border came from boredom?)

The first bit of Argentina was stunning, unfortunately I forgot it was my turn for the shits, I just let it go next to the road in the end “what are you you looking at ass ole, never had the shits before?” That is the trouble with bus trips people get so bored they will look at anything!

Humahuaca, Salta and Cafayate where stunning, it was hot, the food was good and we where in a wine growing region! We camped for two nights in Cafayate and it didn’t rain! Things where looking up, we then came down the other side of the Andies and down to below 400 metres and my god was it hot!!! A plan was hatched to get up very earley in the morning to avoid the heat, complete waste of time, Loo dosen’t do mornings so we had a hot and grumpy ride instead of just hot.

We finally arrived at Buenos Aires and used the GPS to find Daka motos the people who could help us get are bikes to Australia. Well that was the 15th of December, we have had a Christmas that was probally about as good as it could get without being with family, we where made welcome but we were outsiders looking in at another family’s Christmas. Mum gave me a Christmas card with some Australian dollars in it before we left home and Vicky sent out a couple of pressies for us with Jude and Tosh. It has been great to get away in the hire van, so so easy compared to travelling on the bikes, we just park up anywhere have a swim in the sea wash and shampoo under one of the many cold water showers, jump in the van and go! Will motorcycle travel ever be the same? Will our bikes ever arrive in Australia? Will we just stay here over looking this beautiful crescent shaped bay?

the beginning

We finally left St. Agnes at about eight in the evening, rode to Exeter, had a coffee and on again to arrive at Pod and anna`s at about 1am, beer, chat and bed. (Pod and Anna live at Sherbourne near Yeovil)

We worked out how long it would take us to get to Harwich, went shopping so as to use up any spare time that we may have, then set off at the last minute. We then got held up in traffic on the M25, the boat was due out at 6pm my GPS e.t.a said 8.30pm opps!

Loo got the bit between her teeth and we filtered most of the M25 with my waterproof bag which was held on my right hand box with bungies sticking out far too far. I felt it hit a car but couldn’t do the right thing ‘sorry got to get on’.

Last on the ferry ! In the morning last off the ferry! (Why do people keep looking at there watches, it doesn’t make me go any faster).

Denmark was shut and flat, Germany wet and expensive, found a hotel at 11.00pm knackered, damp and pissed off. More shopping the next day ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Got to the boat on time! (9.30am) By 8.00pm in the evening we realized we didn’t have to, the bikes were still on the dockside where we parked them.

The ship left at 7.00am the next morning. The next day and a half to Le Halve where great, we had 3 meals a day plus afternoon tea with cake, the midday meal is a 4 courses! We just have enough time between meals for eating the complimentary chocolates and toilet duties.

The sea has been like a mill pond and last night we had just over a minute of rampant sex to burn off one of the chocolates!

Well I’m now in a hammock in a place called Vilcabamba known for the longlivety of its inhabitants some have lived till 125 years old.

To some up the in between bit...

The first week on the boat was great the second ok and the last 4/5 days “just let me off now!!”

Costa Rica was great getting out of the tent to see smoking volcano was so cool.

We then a great time with Chris and Andrea (Mike Russel’s daughter) just outside Jaco.

Garys Trail Ride

Loo was going horse riding with her mate andrea who had lived there for the last four years. She called a friend Jonny who owns JAGUA RIDERS www.jaguariders.com and arranged a trail ride for me. We set off on two CRF 450 moto crossers. Up the pavement past the shop, little wheelie up the main street and out of town to fill up at a petrol station. We left the road and headed up a track into the hills. Costa Rica had had some serious rain this year and soon the track had completely washed away, so back to the road. 5kms down the road and back up another track, soon we were onto technicle single track with some deep puddles. I found the CRF very high geared compared to my KTM and stalled a couple of times, once with my front wheel on the bank of a small river. Just getting it into a position where I could kick it had me sweating like a pig. Kick, Kick, Kick and off up a bitch of a hill. Jonny was waiting at the top with a big smile and a bottle of water. This guy was good and I was struggling hot and exhausted. We then went down the other side into the next valley and came across a very wide deep river. The day before we had been feeding hugh crocodiles under a bridge bits of chicken. I asked Jonny if there was any crocodiles here? “No 2 kms down river, but none here!” We went up and down the river bank and picked spot with an island in the middle. Jonny went first to the island and then across safely to the other side. I followed with currents pushing down river, big rocks in the bottom, this was sketchy! Now we were down river and in virgin rain forrest and needed to go up river to find the track. I followed closely behind over fallen trees and thick scrub. Up a gravel road went past a village a few more single tracks and stopped at Jonny’s mates house for a rest and a drink. A guy sat in a hammock feeding his breakfast to a wild parrot you don’t get that in Cornwall! The next few trails were wider but very washed out. I fell and had a hell of a job getting going again back wheel spinning and my boots just slipping. It was good to see my riding partner struggling aswell at this point. We must have looped around to get onto a gravel road because there was Jonny’s mate pulling a brama bull (like a water buffalo) behind a push bike. He did some wheelie gestures so I just had to oblige. It was so so easy on this big 450. It was pissing down now and some of the up hills were like riding up rivers. I was getting the hang of the gearing going alot faster and really enjoying myself. At least the rain is warm! At one point on a wide gravel track a toucan flew next to me for a while and then crossed my path a sight I won’t forget I’m sure. I got back wet muddy and exhausted but with a big smile on my face. What an awesome country for a dirt bike!

Panama was a bit of a mix. Loo was needing attention she tried wearing low cut tops and shouting “Don’t look at me” when this didn’t work she fell off her bike on a straight bit of two lane Pan American highway in front of our Italian riding partner making him crash his new 650 KLR. After that I got a puncture and then we got pissed for the next 4 days waiting for the bikes to go to Ecuador. Quito was a beautiful city and we stayed in a shit hotel with a nice landlord and then in nice hotel with no landlord but “got to get on” so onto Alausi and then Cuenca where loos blue bag was nicked off the back of her bike while we were in another street eating ice cream, lots of tears and swearing then off to a supermarket to replace pants and waterproofs. The next day it pissed down again and we found out that Loos nice new waterproof leggings were a bit clip. She split one of her legs pulling them over her boots, then watching her trying to get her leg over her now higher bike (less weight without the blue bag) was a sight to behold. Each time her leg would stop short an inch or two from the top of her saddle. On the 27th go it perched on top of the saddle to the sound of ripping plastic. Split crotch waterproofs does it for me, Oh yeah!

Well it’s just gone 12 noon is that too early for a beer? Are there special rules for beers and hammocks? And if I stay here looking at the sun shining on the beautiful green Andies drinking beer in my hammock will I live to 125?

It is now 8.45pm on the 24th of November and I’m in bed in a strange little hotel room in Cusco, Peru and feeling as rough as a badgers ase’ole. Now it could be altitude sickness or the spaghetti I had at about 5.30 but to give you the whole picture I feel I should tell you a little about last night. We rode into town just before dark and a guy called Jeff came up to us too tell us about his bar the Norton Rats Tavern which sold English beer!

It is now 1.30pm on the 26th and it wasn’t the beer I’ve been sick as a dog, the sick just keep coming all night until the green bile stage then the shits. I then sleep most of yesterday and last night and feel as weak as a kitten now. Loo was awesome, she went to the chemist and got some antibiotics and some paracetamol to get my temperature down and plenty of bottled water. I don’t think I could ever travel alone again, the though of being alone feeling like that scares the crap out of me.

Well from Vilcabamba we rode to the border with Peru, very easy crossing where we met up with Tim a guy from Dudley on a very nice BMW 1000cc D reg going from top to toe, and a swiss couple also on a BMW who had been traveling for two and a half years. Well Tim adopted us the next day, there is only so much you can learn about cookoo clocks, and he has been traveling with us ever since (poor sod) He hasn’t got a traveling partner because he is the only person in Dudley who has left England!

The deserts of northern Peru where great, the flight over Nasca was exciting, the pilot banked the plane so far over so we could she the lines that the alarm would go off every time and his lack of English was entertaining “my friends on the right you will see a paaarott please look” then some more serious banking and “my friends on the left side you will see a paaarot please look” Now with only 4 of us in a 4 seater plane and only me and the pilot on the left side I reckon he could of saved half of his talking and concentrated on driving.

From Nasca we turned inland and headed up the mountains, this was motorcycle haven, bend after bend and the kind of bends you could play with, let me explain, you could see right around some of them alot where hairpins so you could get part way around and lean abit more (until the alarm went off) and scrape on of the boxes come up again and then have another scrape! AWSOME.

Soon we where up on the pampa at 4500m, it’s a lot like dartmoor only instead of sheep there are llamas and the bikes run so so bad, its the lack of air don’t you know (said in a rather smug know all fashion). But by reving the engines a bit more in a lower gear they would get there, but no way would they pull top gear.

Loo’s highlight of this stage was seeing me come back from the toilet after handling a very hot chili, I had heard about this but never had the experience (it doesn’t sting at all go on rub a chili on your dick, it could be like a weird kind of a sniff and scratch book only web based) she said milk will take the sting out and got out a pot of condensed milk, well it didn’t work because I didn’t wash my hands first so I ended up with milky balls and stinging bits.

I just had a comical moment, Loo just took a swig out of a bottle of grape juice said that is disgusting, took another big swig and then found out it should be diluted with water, little things like that make me chuckle, like the rubbish truck that just went up the street playing very loud pan pipe music from a load speaker fixed to the roof!

We have moved rooms now (the other room was stinking) and I’m feeling a bit better, may be Jeff’s Norton rat bar tonight! (He owns a 1974 Norton Commando which he rode down South America on)

Next update Argentina