My Brother: The Motorcycle Habit

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LITTLE BROTHER!

2009-09-25T08:54:00.002-05:00

Just wanted to tell Woodrow happy birthday today. He still lives without an address, without a telephone, without internet access, somewhere on the shores of Lake Superior...so if you see him, wish him well.

[Note: he has spent a significant amount of time constructing a gorgeous fence at my house.]

-- luludilly

Tuesday, August 4, 2009 - a memorable birthday

2009-08-06T22:49:00.005-05:00

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Make no mistake dear readers, Woody, the prodigal son, has returned! And just in time for our mom's birthday!

He should be writing a final story in the near future, but alas, I have no control over the boy.

Thanks to you all for well wishes and following the stories. We should get more photos up before too long also. I'm so glad you could all share in this journey.

-- luludilly

Sunday, August 2, 2009 location, location

2009-08-06T22:49:00.001-05:00

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-- luludilly

Some New Photos

2009-08-01T08:20:00.005-05:00

A***** and Wood pre-boarding of the Stahlratte, I believe, Panama Canal; kicking back on the KTM (imagine riding like that for 10 hours a day for seven months.)

Got some new pictures from our Portland connection, and since there haven't been any new stories, I thought a visual might help.

Photos courtesy of A***** (thanks, man.)

-- luludilly

Missing Missing 7/31/9

2009-07-31T09:05:00.002-05:00

No, don't worry, Woody is NOT missing. He writes to tell me stories but only a line here or there. Buenos Aires has been nice, good times with A*** and G***** and adventuring about. It is quite a large place and the SPOT, although working has been requiring over 40 minutes of "open sky" time which is hard to come by in a large city, especially when staying on the 9th floor of an apartment building above a busy street. I've assured him that we don't need the updated maps if he is in the same place. I'd probably be more worried if he were standing in Argentinian traffic just to notify us.

You may have seen the recent NY Times article about the fabulous historic district bars throughout the city. Very cool. Pa and I are hoping Wood has tried the delicacies, like blood sausage, canned eel and sweet and sour pork.
check it out at: http://travel.nytimes.com/2009/07/12/travel/12journeys.html?scp=2&sq=Buenos%20Aires&st=cse

Is Woody frequenting these places? Place your bets ladies and gentlemen...

Going back to the days of crossing the salt flats in Bolivia -- he wrote to say that he lost another camera (pretty sure this is number three but truthfully, I've lost count.) I'm going to try and post a picture here:

From Wikipedia:
"Salar de Uyuni (or Salar de Tunupa) is the world's largest salt flat at 10,582 km² (4,085 square miles). It is located in the Potosí and Oruro departments in southwest Bolivia, near the crest of the Andes, 3,650 meters high. The major minerals in the salar are halite and gypsum. Some 40,000 years ago, the area was part of Lake Minchin, a giant prehistoric lake. When the lake dried, it left behind two modern lakes, Poopó Lake and Uru Uru Lake, and two major salt deserts, Salar de Coipasa and the larger Uyuni. Uyuni is roughly 25 times the size of the Bonneville Salt Flats in the United States. Also, Salar de Uyuni holds half of the world's reserves of lithium, a metal which is used in high energy density lithium batteries."

So Woody is bouncing along the flats, apparently keeping his camera strapped to the outside of one of the panniers. A*** and G**** are up ahead and pause for something like a flat, as I recall. Wood looks to take a photo and realizes his camera is missing! Most likely recognizing that I would skin him for losing another one, he decides he better "just run back a ways". Why not bike, you ask? Oh, because he was afraid he'd run out of gas. Wouldn't that be unfortunate? So he starts jogging through the salt (look at those mounds and read the stats, can you imagine finding ANYTHING out there?)

The charmed young traveler crests a mound and what does he see? You guessed it folks, he found the darn thing. It was filled with sand and didn't work for three or four days but has apparently since resumed its functions. What next, I must wonder, SPOT in the toilet, camera in the sand...

-- luludilly

Enjoying the Big City...

2009-07-22T19:43:00.003-05:00

Apparently someone somewhere has heard from the guy. He's still in the bustling city of Buenos Aires, Argentina.

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I will try to make things a little more interesting WITHOUT the promised story.

Some things you might not know about Buenos Aires:
Actor Robert Duvall, poet Pablo Neruda and director Francis Ford Coppola ALL LIVED HERE! For those who have crushes on Mr. Viggo Mortenson, Jr. he ALSO lived here.

The state of Ohio (!) is apparently twinned with Buenos Aires, as well as the state of New Jersey and Miami, Florida. Go figure...

The tango (a dance few heavy-Norwegian-bloods have attempted, let alone mastered) was born in the suburbs of Buenos Aires. It wasn't considered respectable until the 20's when Paris society stamped it...now isn't that something. Who out there can picture big oaf Woodrow doing the tango? (Note: if you can, I do NOT want to hear about it.) I guess there is now a style "Finnish tango"...no comment.

So, until the great white man sends another spot...try to wipe some of these mental images out of your mind. I'm going to crank Bobby D. and crack another beer. It's Wednesday after all...

-- luludilly

Buenos Aires, Argentina 7/21

2009-07-21T21:39:00.003-05:00

Well, news from Woody is that the Spot might be nearly dried out. He'd find out if he weren't on the ninth floor of a high-rise apartment building that his friends A*** and G**** are renting out. It is pouring rain there and he is whining about it, of course. Tonight's plans include making a Hawaiian dinner for them. I'm sure some of the readers can smell that dinner which we have all been treated to by Wood. Yet another trick he learned from his good life of travels. It reminds me of our little one room cabin, where the fear of fulfilling our father's prophesy of the old brother and sister in the woods, growing old alone, following failed relationships one after another...egad. Typically, in those days, I and the Latvian gypsy would determine and make every meal but maybe once a month we'd be pampered with Woody's cooking -- using every pot in the plumbing-free, one fuse bungalow, and oh yeah, girls, can you wash the dishes...ah, brother. A*** and G**** are in for a good meal.

Other than that, bike is getting worked on finally and he is playing a lot of pool. Okay, I made that last part up; I have no clue what he does with his days -- if he is taking pictures, running for public office, getting in fights with tourists, or saving rare species of turtles. It could be anything. We'll have to hear what he has to say before I make anything else up ----

-- luludilly

Spot News

2009-07-13T19:26:00.003-05:00

So...not surprisingly there has been yet another electronic device malfunction/casualty. This time it wasn't a camera (he has had three now!) I do not expect that we will be getting any new location updates for a while --- as Wood's trusty Spot took a swim. Anyone out there remember when he dropped a cellphone in the toilet at the Marion Street house in college? Yeah...I think this was similar, although I'm guessing the toilet was cleaner in South America. Correct me if I'm wrong, but pretty sure that toilet --- servicing eight football players and their numerous friends and party goers --- went uncleaned for four years. I think the scum built up thick enough to flush down every year or so.

Sorry, I just wanted to paint a colorful picture and show why it was difficult for me to advise Woody to send the toilet drowned Spot home for a replacement...

First he is going to try and dry it out for a few days or maybe a week since I kinda doubt this is covered under the warranty.

He is in Argentina, happy and spending time with his friends A*** and G****. Go ahead and give Woody a hard time; he expects it.

-- luludilly

New location as of 7/11/9

2009-07-12T22:49:00.002-05:00

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I got a postcard from Woody the other night. It was written before he crossed the salt flats. Seeing his handwriting was too much for this big sister to handle. The habit goes on without notice but missing your brother is that sort of slow ache that never goes away. Here's to safe travels and the KTM staying in good working order for a while.

You are missed Wood, and loved more than you know.

-- luludilly

Location(s) 7/5/9

2009-07-08T22:52:00.001-05:00

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-- luludilly

Location 7/2/9

2009-07-08T22:51:00.001-05:00

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-- luludilly

...the ending [don't worry, not really!]

2009-06-30T08:08:00.002-05:00

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Here we are, the last chapter in the road block story -- it's a good one. If only we had pictures of Wood to go with it. I'm wondering how long his hair is, if he's got a range-y red beard again --- just how scary might he be these days?

"after i rode through that first block, i thought i was probably in the clear. impressed by the effort, however, maybe at least a bit disappointed. however, as i thought these thoughts, the rocks scattered along the roadway seemed to increase, and i was still the only vehicle on the road. well, i was wrong. the next block was larger than the first--more people and more rocks across the road. as i approached i received shaking heads and waving fingers from those walking in the opposite direction. carried however, upon the same cloud of confidence, i reached the the block. greeted by smiles from some, angry eyes from others. i shut the bike off, but because of the angry looks, decided to leave my helmet on. there was no running this road block. too many people, and the rocks piled too high. the conversation started out the same as the first--there is no passing. you cannot go through. nobody can go through. you have to go back to cusco. the thing was, at this point, i had gained leverage. i had been let through the first block, and as i explained this to the man telling me there was no way, his expression changed as he realized that i was telling the truth and what this meant. the rocks piled were blocking the road leading to a bridge. beyond the first row of rocks stood a small group, 5 or 6 people, standing around a tree stump glaring at me. the man i was talking with told me, sheepishly, that i would have to talk to ¨them¨ to see if i could pass through. a younger man approached me, eating jello out of a cup and talking, with his mouth full. as i got off the bike he motioned for me to stay, telling me that he would talk with the leaders. he did and then waved me through. i drove through slowly, smiling and saying ¨gracias¨, which was received with more glares and scowls. but i was through. more rocks in the lanes, followed by many more small blockades--each the same, requiring some patience and the offering of the facts--that i was being let through. nonetheless they each took awhile. it was interesting, as some of these blockades had obvious leadership, and others, seemed to be comprised of only followers. the women were the toughest, throughout. even throwing rocks at me as i drove by, yelling things in qechua--the native language, which, of course, i cannot understand at all. i continued on, growing confident that i would make it through, yet on edge the entire time. i arrived at another large block--the largest yet, and was immediately surrounded by 150 people, some yelling, some smiling. there was nothing that i could do--i was completely at the will of this mob. somebody moved from the front of my bike to the rear, with knife in hand, preparing to slash my tires. i was fortunate. i was talking to the leader--an elder man, and he said, with authority, do not slash the tires. there was nothing that i could have done had he slashed my tires. the thing is, as i learned after i made it into bolivia, that the people at these blockades are staying there 24 hours a day, and drinking most of those hours. it becomes a drunk mob. i made it through, a bit more concerned than before. the rocks on the road continued, now with broken glass dispersed as well. i had no choice to continue on, hoping at each block that it would be the last. eventually i did arrive at the last block. another bridge, but this time with 400 or more people, complete with a stage and a p.a. system. someone speaking passionately up top. again i was surrounded immediately by the crowd, told i could not pass. this time, however, there were many smiles in the crowd, many children and women who were not scowling at me or spitting in my direction. i began talking with two men--one on my left and one on my right. i explained again, that i had to make it to puno, that all of the other blockades had allowed me to pass and had told me that i may pass to puno. they told me that i probably could, in a couple of hours. we kept talking, when another man approached from the front, displaying headbands with words of the cause printed on them. the man on my left told me that i should have one of those, which i received, and then he told me that i should put it on. they were made out of a silky material which was fraying uncontrollably at the edges. i took my helmet off and as i tried to put it on i realized that the strings were too out of control, that i could not very well tie the thing onto my head.....so i reached into my tank bag and brought out a lighter. as i sparked it, i realized just what i was doing. about to burn their flag in front of the mob. i stopped. put the lighter back into my bag and managed to tie the thing onto my head. with strings everywhere i looked up to be greeted by smiles and cheers. the two men on either side told me i could pass immediately, and that they would guide me through. with the engine off so as to not disturb the speech, they, along with some boys, pushed me over the rocks, through the crowd, across the bridge to the other side. the end of the blockades. i stayed there and talked with these men for a bit, and another crowd formed around us. it was a more personal conversation, with some talk of politics and the problems with government, of course. it all ended with smiles, handshakes, pictures, and the exchange of email addresses. i made it through the protests, the blockades, and rode into the night, freezing, but safely in reach of puno. i received an email later that night from the man on my right......it said, 'it was an honor to meet you, good luck to you on your journey, god bless you always.' the road is still blocked today."

I tell you, this is a man-kid destined for politics. Or some other type of persuasive career, talking himself into and back out of just about anything that falls across his path. Impressive. He could be a jury coach in big trials -- get into the heads of the people and make things happen. Personally, I think this is the fall-out of a spoiled childhood. One wonders what I may be able to accomplish had I been the baby bear in the family, always getting my way with blond curls and the biggest bottom lip pout you've ever seen...

Apparently, he's off to the south of Bolivia tomorrow. We'll see what adventures await as this dreadful habit persists into July.

-- luludilly

From Cusco Part II

2009-06-25T22:35:00.002-05:00

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Parasites Protestors and Escaping Cusco Part I

2009-06-23T22:44:00.003-05:00

Woody has been a bit slow on the stories these days. I suspect it is in part due to the KTM engine troubles, the campaign for his next office in Peru (presuming Colombia does not materialize as anticipated) and oh yes, basking in the serious reverence of Machu Picchu. In any case, I nagged him --- having been nagged by followers --- to produce, produce. What is he up to, what is the story of getting out of Cusco?

Here is the first part. Emphasis on sweets and Danes and oh yeah, Woody's dragon blood ideas of staving off his 32 parasites. We all have them folks, get used to it.

"from cusco to puno. after returning to cusco from machu picchu 3 days later than i had planned, i was ready to head south once again. on monday morning i packed up the bike and ran into my danish friends, ****** and *****. they had just gotten back from machu picchu as well, and were also planning on leaving cusco on monday. we were informed, shortly after seeing one another, that the road to puno and bolivia was blocked. protestors. traveling in south america, one must expect such happenings; inconveniences if you choose to see them in that way. for me it simply meant another day with allan and stine, which would be great, another night in an uncomfortable bed and one more cold shower (when there was water at all). not too bad. so the three of us were off--walking the streets of cusco. lucky for me, both of them have equally large sweet-tooths--those who know me, know i have a hard time resisting anything sweet.....

we ate and walked and laughed and ate and talked and walked. it was a grand day. our time together had ended, as they had been informed that their bus would indeed leave at 7p.m. for copacabana, bolivia. we said goodbye and i went back for my cold shower and too-soft bed. i did not sleep well. around 4 a.m. my stomach woke me up, very unhappy with me. apparently i had indulged in something less than appropriate. i had news later in the morning that the road was still blocked, no passage possible. i walked, stomach rolling, to the market for my morning smoothie made by carmen. she is a sweet lady, standing up high over the aisle, with her mountain of fruit and capable blender, and her little baby sleeping in a make-shift crib at her left knee. it was a daily event for me--and nice to be a ¨regular¨ 10,000 miles from home. on my way there, however, i was distracted by a woman carrying a basket full of empanadas. i followed her up the street, trying to catch a whiff of what might be inside. for some reason, i could not seem to catch up with her, nor did i seem to care that i could not. i turned around, taking a different route to the market, and passing by a bench upon which allan, the dane, sat. their bus did not fly by night, but they were told, once again, to be there at 7 p.m. turns out neither of their stomachs were too happy either, but that did not stop us from walking the streets once again, peer-pressuring one another into a piece of chocolate cake, sugar cane juice, and everything else that looked new, exotic, and possibly delicious. as a back-note, allan and i, during our first day spent together, shared a ¨cuy¨--that is, a guinea pig......yes, a guinea pig just like the one some of you had as a pet--we ate one."

[Sidebar: Bz had a hedgehog that could have been eaten had we known how to prepare. Fortunately we were too young to try such things.]

"we said goodbye one more time in the plaza, and headed our ways. for me, yes, another cold shower, another uncomfortable night. and another early morning with a screaming stomach and the news of a yet-blocked road to puno. i took it easy most of the morning, sitting in the sun, reading, and not eating anything. by early afternoon i had some new information from a nutritionist staying at the hostal, about a possible cure for parasites. so i was off to the market to buy ¨sangre de grado¨, ¨dragon´s blood¨, and begin stomach therapy. after i had found it, haggled my way down to the going rate for the dragon´s blood, i headed back out through the crowd. believe it or not i walked out right behind the danes. our paths, cross, once again. lucky for all of us, it was after 4 pm and their bus was slated to leave at 7pm, once again, so we did not have time (nor the stomachs) to push one another up and down the streets. we settled for a cup of tea and a game of cards in the sun, followed by a short walk to the plaza in order to say our proper goodbye and head in opposite directions. still not feeling too well, i was bound and determined to get on the road, and decided i would take a chance at puno in the morning. the information i was receiving was spotty--no one had solid answers, only guesses. i did a bit of research to find out what the protests were about, and to get a sense of what had happened in the last week and a half.....unfortunately i learned that the indians are angry, and that their anger is at least connected to america--seems as though the peruvian president had just handed down decrees (which were part of a trade agreement with, yes, the united states) which the indians viewed (clearly and justly) as opening the door to the exploitation of their lands and their resources (water, mining, timber) to forest interests (u.s.). so they are not happy, as i learned that 23 police officers and an unconfirmed amount of indians had been killed in the clash in the preceding days. on the road to puno, no less......."

to be continued........

Woody wrote that, not me. Stay calm parentals. He is obviously okay since he has the time and the nerve to remind ME of father's day and being kind to you. Seriously, this kid. He is in the middle of South America and yet, I'm answering to him? The younger brother without a forwarding address.

If he doesn't write the next installation soon, I'll tell the story of his week sojourn to my home for respite and unfettered hypochondria growth. It is funny and it involves the film Dying Young if that helps...

- luludilly

La Paz

2009-06-23T22:25:00.002-05:00

From Woodstock, "the stories are coming, later today, i promise. i am in la paz until thursday morning--sort of soaking in this place for a bit, waiting for some things to get done here. another round of bike stuff to purchase in anticipation for the saltflats--i am a bit nervous (along with very excited) as i have heard that the flats are terribly rough on motor vehicles. included in my purchases are two large cans of WD-40 (for a whopping $10 each!) with which i will spray down the entire bike daily (except for the brake discs) to help against the salt.

i have mentioned before ***** and **** from california, no? we have talked and i am thinking that it may be best for us to ride the flats together, in the event of trouble...i am going to have to go to santiago for an air filter before i cross the continent, as i could use a new one now but there is not one in bolivia, for sure...i will write more to you later today (my hotel is rather posh, with free internet and breakfast included, and a hot shower with more pressure than a small waterfall, all for $8, which is a bit expensive for bolivia, but with breakfast, internet, and parking, it equals out)."

I cannot even imagine this, the salt flats, what a wild possibility. And yet, I am not surprised. Here we sit in 110% humidity, no where for peace but the big lake, and Wood, he's heading off across salt flats. Good grief. This brother. This habit. When will it be broken?

-- luludilly

Copacobana Bolivia

2009-06-19T06:53:00.002-05:00

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This from Woodstock:

"the story into puno will have to wait until tomorrow. i rode into bolivia today, surrendering $135 for my 5 year visa. i started to have bike trouble on the drive in last night, do not remember if i told you or not--but made it to copacabana this afternoon, riding with xxxxx and xxxx from california on their klr. i started working on the bike this afternoon, but it got dark and cold fast and i was very hungry so we went to eat and i let it sleep for the night. i will work on it tomorrow, possible head out to an island in lake titicaca--can you believe that i am sleeping on the shore of lake titicaca? wild, then onto la paz. hopefully i can solve the bike issue tomorrow, if not, there is a good shop in la paz which is just a few hours away and hopefully they can help there. that is all i have got at the moment."

Meanwhile, we're leaning into the solstice, light until 1o pm and starting again at 4:30 am, muggy heat and humidity and blooming flowers...he really is a long way from home.

-- luludilly

6/17/9 Puno

2009-06-19T06:51:00.001-05:00

"just a quick note to let you know that i made it to puno, peru, tonight and all is well. much of a day to get here, and a good story--will have to tell a bit later as i am tired and ready to lie down. will not send the spot tonight, so you know."

I'm hoping and guessing the roads opened and the belly got better, but we'll see.

- luludilly

The Cusco Belly

2009-06-17T06:40:00.002-05:00

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A few updates from Woods -- apologies for the delay, I've been sailing, working and preparing for a slow jog on Saturday --

"it is monday, had planned on being in bolivia last friday, and then had planned on leaving for the border this morning. woke up with a soupy stomach, made my way to the market for breakfast, ran into my wonderful new danish friends who were supposed to have left on a night bus last night, but were informed, as they informed me, that there is a strike and the road to bolivia is blocked so they could not pass and neither could i. so cusco for another night and hopefully tomorrow there will be news of an open road...i ran into grace and adam, a couple traveling on a bike from california, on my way to machu picchu. they were on the stahlratte with me. if it works, we will meet up in bolivia and travel together for a bit. could be good as i hear the salt flats are rough and good to have a second set of hands--"

It persisted into Tuesday: "hey deahl--tuesday morning in peru. i woke up yesterday feeling sick, am worse today and do not think i should move..."

Later in the afternoon, he updated me: "the roads were still blocked today, so i am stuck in cusco for another night. in the morning i will go for it and maybe make it all the way into bolivia by night. depends on the border crossing. stomach is feeling a bit better at the moment. cannot believe you have got a blackberry--i think they call them crackberrys in some circles--love you."

We'll see how today goes, maybe it is one of his parasites again. And yes, they do call them crackberrys, but fortunately I don't know how to use the damn thing so it is not possible for me to become too attached. Besides, the crackberry let me email him from the halls of the courtroom. This from a man with a motorcycle habit who has probably been wearing the same jeans, listening to the same 1,000 songs and certainly wearing one filthy bandana for seven months...

Little brothers!

-- luludilly

location 6/14/9

2009-06-14T19:10:00.000-05:00

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-- luludilly

Machu Picchu AT LAST 6/11/9

2009-06-13T10:03:00.003-05:00

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(For more, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Machu_Picchu)

Not sure how, but Woody finally got a chance to tell us a good long story...sit back and read this one out loud around the dinner table...there's no need for my editorializing. i don't want to ruin the moment for anyone.

"well deahl, i made it to machu picchu. it all started yesterday, as i had spent the night in the pueblo of santa teresa (where there are perhaps the greatest thermal pools in the entire world, save perhaps, iceland from what i heard today) and drove to the hydroelectric plant and the end of the road. from here it is a two or two and a half hour hike, following the train tracks up the river to the tourist oriented town of aguas calientes, in the valley below machu picchu. it was a beautiful walk. i kept on remembering that i was on my way to machu picchu! a world away. i got into aguas calientes with plenty of time to hunt down a $7 hotel, with hot water. it was a mistake. screaming children and loud-talking mothers, and a hallway light that i could read by, shining through the transom.

you see, there are only 400 people a day that are allowed to hike up waynapicchu, which is the northern peak above the ruins of machu picchu. i read that 1000 people visit each day, so there are many who do not get the chance to climb. i had heard varying reports on it--some say it is entirely worth it, and others say that it is too crowded and not to bother. i figured that i would give myself the option. the gates open at 6am, and from there you have to cross the ruins in the pre-dawn to the waynapicchu checkpoint in order to get a ticket to climb. buses start running up the mountain sometime around 5:30 a.m. perhaps, but to be first you have got to walk, which means climbing straight up the mountain, cutting directly through the swatch-back road. because there is so much traffic, i imagine, they have built stone steps the entire way up, making it a bit easier, but also a bit tough on the buttocks and quads. many people begin from aguas calientes at 4:30 a.m., as it is over an hour hike at a solid, long-striding clip. i decided to make a morning of it, getting up at 3:15 a.m. to brew some chai tea for the sunrise, and leaving at approximately 3:35 a.m. it was dark, of course, and cloudy, but with the half-moon there was enough light to walk without a lamp, which made it all the more fantastic. to reach the trailhead it is a 20 minute hike down the road, then begin the climb.

by 4:15 i was drenched in sweat with another half hour to go. ah yes, also i decided to bring my full pack up with me, with clothes, cook kit, etc., etc., and a rock for mom. my thought was that i would return to santa teresa at the end of the day, and by carrying my pack i would not have to return to aguas calientes just to retrieve it, turn around and walk in my footsteps....anyway it was all unnecessary in the end, but the 30 pounds on my back made the walk up extra special.

when i arrived at the gate it was all dark and there was a solitary figure sitting on the steps. i was number 2. i had thought that there would be throngs already squeezing and pinching and pushing. number one was quiet, listening to music with his eyes closed and hat pulled low--not a great conversationalist from the onset. shortly after me, arrived numbers 3, 4 and 5. unfortunately for all, number 4 was a rather loud and unpleasant man from israel, and number 3 was a nice guy from denmark who had been hiking for 5 days with number 4, and who, understandably, was rather tired of number 5´s company. more continued to arrive sporadically, and somewhere within the next 15 arrivals, came most of the rest of the same trekking group which number 3 and number 4 belonged to. for the next 35 minutes i listened, with little interest, to the dramas of the trek. above anything else it made me glad that i did not sign up to walk with strangers for 5 days.

it is unfortunate, this trekking business in peru, as much of the time you are required to go through an agency, have a guide, and pay outrageous amounts of money to walk in the mountains. as the lines grew and the guards prepared to open the gates, i realized, with much concern and uneasiness, that everyone around me had their tickets in hand. i had no ticket. a ticket into machu picchu costs $41, which is ridiculous. however it is worth it and i suspect that the prices will continue to skyrocket, as people will continue to pay, whatever the price. fortunately, my spanish has improved and i was able to talk my way through the gates and to the ticket booth and pack storage, all before they officially opened the gates, thus not losing my hard-earned number 2 spot. whew. relief. i had feared that they were going to tell me i had to return to the village to buy a ticket.....

once they opened the gate the rush was on. it was light enough to see, but the way to the second ticket booth for waynupicchu is not too well marked, perhaps as entertainment, as the path leads you through a maze of terraces and buildings, often unsuredly, to the north end of the ruins. walking through in the early light, i felt transported. i was walking in the picture which i had been seeing since i was a kid--and it was real. i was really there, truly walking through the ruins of machu picchu. we found our way to the waynupicchu gate, and i had retained my number 2 spot. from there it was a 45 minute wait until all the tickets were handed out, only then did the gate open. i liken it to the start of a dogsled race--each person must sign in, which takes maybe 45 seconds, and only one can sign in at a time, thus creating 45 second intervals between hikers. this hike is an hour hike, once again with steps, only these are really old and were built for little incans. they are steep like none other--more like a ladder in places--absolutely incredible engineering.

drenched in sweat for the second time of the day, i was close to the top and the trail split in two. i went straight and arrived at the top just as number 1 did, as he took the other route. we had made the climb in 35 minutes. each of us put claim upon a rock and got comfortable. the next 15 minutes had little traffic and may have been the most incredible of the whole day, i am not sure. the top of waynupicchu has limited space and only a few rocks on which sitting is comfortable and affording a view of it all. the top of the valley. machu picchu. did i tell you that i was at machu picchu today!? i sat on that rock for 3 hours. i will not try to explain what it was like--nor the rest of the day. i spent 10 hours wandering around, sitting, talking to the danish number 3. i even took a half hour nap on my own private terrace. all day i was in partial disbelief. all day i had a bit of a goofy grin on my face and a little extra enthusiasm in my voice as i greeted every single person i met going up or down. the whole day was, well, incredible. i am still smiling, even close to tears as i realize where i am and what i have blessed to experience."

Told you it was good...

-- luludilly

the road to cusco

2009-06-09T23:09:00.003-05:00

It just occurred to me that we once had a sleddog named Kusco. I am wondering where that came from or if it was intended to be this Peruvian town. Pa will remember. Woods takes a long time to write stories and he has so many people to talk to when he can get on the computer. Parents often wonder why they don't get the stories. (Likely because they don't act as his personal biographer and editor...) To reacquaint himself, relationships are stated, just in case:

"wood here, your son. i am in cusco, peru, after 4 hard days of travel--from the desert heat to the frigid high plains, and back up and back down and up and down and.....it was a long journey, but good. peru is rather large, but more than that, it is the mountains and the bad roads that make travel so long. on one particular 12 hour day i covered somewhere near 175 miles. that was quite the day....i ended up spending 10 days in a town called huaraz--it is situated in the valley, between the cordillera negra (the old mountains), and the cordillera blanca (the new, jagged, glaciated, granite peaks). i really enjoyed huaraz, mostly, of course, because of the people. there is an excellent coffee shop there, owned by a minnesotan man and his peruvian wife. real nice folks. i was staying at a hostal called, ¨jo´s place¨, which is run by jo, an english ex-pat, and his peruvian wife (seems to be a trend here....)"

ummm, don't get any ideas Woodstock...

"on sundays i partook in the family volleyball game. good fun. hiking, or ¨trekking¨, as they refer to it in the mountains, is endless. being that close to the glaciers and the peaks made me feel like going for the tops--another day, perhaps. also while there in huaraz, chris (the owner of cafe andino, the minnesotan) sent me to meet simon. simon is an english ex-pat (yes, with a peruvian wife) with a restaurant and two ktms--a superenduro and an adventurer. an interesting fellow, simon, with much bike experience in peru. so this is where that 12 hour day began.....with conversations with simon. i was heading for cusco, and the main road runs along the coast, through lima, and then inland and up to cusco. i had no real desire or need to go to lima, as i was able to find a new front tire in huaraz, so staying on secondary roads in the mountains was appealing to me. simon and i mapped out a course, and come bright and early on that monday morning, after coffee with chris in the street below the cafe, i headed into the mountains."

"it was, indeed, the most beautiful scenery that i had yet seen. we began climbing (on dirt, of course) and didn´t stop climbing until we had reached nearly 16,000 ft. this was, and still is, the highest i have ridden. the road was all dirt, and not necessarily good, and the switchbacks were gruelling. i started to lose power around 13,500 ft., with the slow speed and heavy load. to get around those corners i was having to rev high and ride the clutch--not good and it had me worried the entire way up, enough to think about turning around. but finally, after 100 hairpins, we made it to the top, crested, and began descending. soon after beginning the descent i realized that one of the bolts connecting the two sides of my pannier frame, had sheared off. some adjustments, zip-ties and wire, and we were off again. 20 minutes later the other bolt sheared off. so i got a bit more creative with some rope, and the problem was solved for the time being. it was already, at this point, after noon. thankfully i found some fuel before i got to the bottom of the valley (climbing really sucks the gas), and we continued on, finally reaching the valley floor and thawing out a bit. by now it must have been 3pm, and judging by the gps, huantar, my destination for the night, was only 40 miles away. i didn´t truly understand what this meant at this point, as i was enjoying the scenery, watching the road, and basking in the sunlight. shortly after 3, i came around the bend to find a number of buses and vans parked, and an old man on the side of the road waving his finger and shaking his head. landslide. i moved up to the front to see a covered roadside and a mountain that was still throwing rocks down from above. there were people removing the big ones, always with one eye looking up the slope, ready to run when anything more than a pebble came into speeding view. i parked and walked through the rubble, beginning to help and dodging when necessary. the people on either side of the slide were constantly watching the mountainside, and constantly yelling ¨cuidado¨(careful!) so began what was similar to ¨crying wolf¨, which as we all know, is not a fun game to play. it was after the 20th time of hearing ¨cuidado¨, that i stopped paying close attention to the yelling. you can guess what happened next. the wolf came down the mountainside; a rock roughly the size of a large footstool. i picked my line through and ran, and as i looked over my shoulder i saw the boulder fly by and land, with a dull thud, in the grass below. so with that out of the way, apparently the road was clear enough for travel."

"my bike is unlike anything most people down here have seen, and because of this, they believe that it is a super machine capable of super-machine feats (like flying, i am convinced). when i ask for directions, i always ask in duration of hours, as distance means little. the answers are always the same--on a bus, 5 hours, but on that bike, 1 1/2 hours. so being that my bike can fly, it was only logical that i go through first--and as i have learned, it is best not to think very much at all before attempting something difficult on a motorcycle. over-thinking brings bad results. so i straddled, started, and began. the stretch of slide was about 60 meters in length, with rocks varying in size from small to basketball sized, making moving difficult. i got hung-up at one point, with my rear tire behind a big rock and my front behind another--all the while, looking up the mountain, watching small rocks tumbling. we made it, though, to a cheering crowd on the other side. onward. climbing once again, i ran out of fuel and stopped to break out my first reserves--3, 1 liter, msr fuel bottles. there were roughly two hours of daylight left, and at this point, according to the gps, huantar was 18 miles away. recall what i wrote earlier, that distance means little.......shortly after this stop it began raining, and then hailing. i was, however, warm and dry inside the aerostich suit, and sure that i would make it to huantar before dark. once down in the next valley, i entered a large town that was not on the map or gps. i had to ask many people for directions out of the town, and when i asked for huantar, there seemed to be a bit of confusion on faces. finally out, however, the road was paved for the first time since 8am, however it was in terrible shape with large sections missing. and now it is dark. as i continued on following the river and heading in the direction of san marcos (a town near huantar), i knew i was getting close. gps was telling me 5 miles. suddenly, out of the darkness, came the first sign all day, with an arrow for san marcos, and an arrow for huantar. so we began climbing once again, this time, running out of fuel half way up. to reach my other reserve tank (the 4 gallon), i have to unpack the entire bike. i really wish that i would have bought the big aftermarket tank for the bike before i left, lesson learned. i was so tired at this point, that i did it very slowly and without much aggravation, after all, huantar was close and there was a nice hotel, simon had told me, on the west end of the plaza. when i had reached the top, i arrived at a dark archway; and upon entering, was greeted by dark streets. i found the plaza but there were no lights and certainly no hotels. i pulled up next to a kid sitting on the sidewalk, eric, and asked him what the story might be--apparently there are two huantars in peru, and i was in the second. before long there was a small crowd around me, and people offering help and directions to a hostal and a secure place for the bike. in conversation i learned that i was the first gringo in this huantar since 1982......you just never know where you might end up."

wow, what a day....and to think Woody wasn't born until 1981.

-- luludilly

News and Stories

2009-06-09T10:34:00.003-05:00

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Wood has gotten some time to give us a story or two, here's an update for now, the story of the great mountain climb by KTM and rockslide should be up tonight...after I try not to fall in the big drink during sailing.

"made it to cusco this afternoon, after two days riding from the coast, which was, without a doubt, the most beautiful ride to date. starting in the desert at 6:30 a.m yesterday, climbing the foothills. by 10 a.m i was freezing and had to stop to strip down and put on my long johns. at 11 am i was back down in a valley and sweating over cold lomo saltado and lukewarm instant coffee. some people get it, some people don´t. after disappointing breakfast, we climbed up again, just under 15,000ft. we rode on like this for hours, as it is high plains. moonscape. cold but good road and no traffic. some lakes, llamas, vicunas, and a few hearty folks walking from nowhere to somewhere. ran out of gas once up there, but found some low octane to prevent me from having to unpack to get at the reserve tank. descended, on empty once again, and landed in a warm, green valley with a big healthy river. found fuel and continued on down the valley. the road went on for 120 km, beautiful tarmac, crisscrossing the river. such a great ride. finished up by climbing back to 10,000 ft and sleeping for the night. slept in a bit today and then finished the ride to cuzco, climbing back up to 14,000 and back down, and back up, and back down a bit. and here i am. so many ¨fancy¨ (by this i mean ¨western¨) restaurants, cafes, and shops. gringos and gringas everywhere. after being brought to a $13 a night hotel and turning it down on the grounds that it was too nice and too expensive and more than i needed, i found a $5 hostal that is empty, with a garage for the bike. almost tipped her over, as the street up to the hostal is very steep, cobblestone, and narrow. all was fine except that the old girl struggles up steep grade with the load i make her carry, and without speed we get into trouble. had to unpack at the hostal to finish the climb to the garage, and at that point, she shifted and started to tip. lucky i saw it and stiff-armed her from the downslope side and saved us some scratches and embrassment. planning on spending tomorrow investigating this old city, then on tuesday head for macchu picchu. sure are a lot of white folks around here."

Ah Woody...the large Norwegian Viking that he is...now noticing the skin color of the tourists and wayward journeyers.

"there is a biker bar here in cusco, i went there today but the biker owner wasn´t around. apparently he is from the states. i hope to find him tomorrow to talk. maybe he has got some knowledge. i imagine that i will be out of peru by the end of the week, and into bolivia. i have got a route worked out, (which included the town where butch cassidy and the sundance kid met their ends.) sounds like bolivia is a bit crazy, with a lot of protests and such, and roadblocks--could get held up, hopefully not at gunpoint. plus the roads are all bad, from what i hear."

This might sound a little scary to the readers, but believe or not I was held up at gunpoint. In Minneapolis, Minnesota. And I lived through it. And I'm not nearly as charmed as my little brother. This habit of his may be nervewracking for the parents out there, but he's a smart kid and this is the dream he wants to be pursuing.

One little reminder for everyone, Wood says:
i am not here because it is easy, nor for it to be easy. ¨if it were easy (bulldog football) every swingin´ dick on campus would be out here.¨

Nothing like a Steger quote to end a post...don't let the bastards grind you down, man.

-- luludilly

KUMD in Peru 6/5/9

2009-06-06T08:24:00.002-05:00

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Finally a little news from the road. A two hour story was prepared for the parents only to have the computer kick it...so this is what we've got.

"i am listening to KUMD right now--pretty cool that i figured out how to do it, and makes time on a computer a bit better. by the way, i am in nazca, peru today--traveled hard out of the mountains early yesterday, hit the desert once again, and on south. nazca, of course, is the desert of the famous nazca lines. i saw them today--from an observation tower on the roadside--made me feel far away from home, and, though there was nothing to do but look, i felt a bit as if i had made it to some sort of unmentioned, unmarked checkpoint. maybe because i have seen pictures of the lines all my life.

i am heading for cuzco tomorrow, don´t know if i will make it all the way in one shot--a couple days there, then bolivia is not too far away. not sure how long i will be there, but i hear that the roads are bad, so traveling is slow. i will stick to the west, through la paz and on south to uyani, the salt flats, which have been in my mind for two years--once i hit argentina, the roads should be good and the days will be long as i make for santiago. this is my tentative route."

I'll let you know when I know.

-- luludilly

In the Middle of Somewhere

2009-06-03T07:12:00.002-05:00

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As Pa says --- he's out there. Yet, interestingly enough, I got this message yesterday afternoon:

"hey deahl--have not heard from you in quite awhile and i am wondering
if all is well--it is tuesday afternoon, you must be working. write if
you get a chance, just to let me know that everything is alright. love
you deahl.

wood"

Good grief. You've got to be kidding me. He's in the middle of nowhere, been gone for months and months, not even trying to kick the motorcycle habit, and I'm here still working, still walking the dog every morning, still shoveling snow and mowing the lawn, and oh yeah, keeping up his blog, plotting his routes...all in a very safe community mind you, and he's worried about ME? That brother...

He is now on the east side of Parque Nacional Huascaran. [Read about it here: http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=es&u=http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parque_Nacional_Huascar%25C3%25A1n&ei=eWkmSub4EqLuMpfV8IQF&sa=X&oi=translate&resnum=1&ct=result&prev=/search%3Fq%3DParque%2BNacional%2BHuascaran%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26hs%3DAkp]

I can only imagine the climbing dreams he is having...

I hope we can get a story or two out of him once he stops worrying about his very capable, self-sufficient, older sister who is now building her own garden, no thanks to the handyman brother. I'll be re-siding the garage before you know it.

-- luludilly

Peruuuuuuu

2009-05-30T07:30:00.005-05:00

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Woody is still basking in the Huaraz atmosphere. If you click on the link for the original map site and look to the left side of the page, you'll see pictures (posted by other travelers) of the area. Pretty neat. But man, I wish W could figure out how to connect the camera to the computer with that hi-tech device we spent $270 mailing to him....

Just kidding, Bone, it is worth the wait, I'm sure.

For the motor heads, check out the fuel pump, at least, that's what I think it is...it's been in and out and replaced possibly more than any other part on the KTM.

-- luludilly

at home in huaraz

2009-05-27T21:34:00.002-05:00

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More from Woody. We'll see where he ends up going...

"i have had an interesting couple days, which i shall soon fill you in on. i am not seriously going to move here to huaraz, but i could see myself here, living. i am going to spend a few more days here, and then move slowly through the mountains towards cuzco. this is, of course, the gateway to macchu picchu, which i feel as though i need to see, being that i am down here. it will depend on the cost, however, and i do not think that i can afford to do the inca trail, which is a four day hike to macchu picchu, but i do not think that will break my heart. from cuzco, bolivia, i think. however that is going to be pricey as well, as bolivia requires american travelers to have a visa, which is in the neighborhood of $135. bolivia has had a draw on me since the start, however, and i would not feel right about by-passing it because of the cost of entrance. we will see. i need to remember that i may never be here again in this life.....

it was a tough week or so, prior to getting into huaraz. it is good here though, and much of that is because i have been here for four days. you have got to spend time in a place for it to feel right. it is that simple. blowing through towns is lonely--i have met some great people here; genuine, friendly, helpful, entertaining. more on all that later.

so is santiago, chile, the destination city? i am hoping to go further south, actually, to bariloche, argentina, which is probably 1200km south of santiago, from what i have been told. santiago is, from what simon told me, exactly 5000km from here--i assume that to be a rather direct route, which i am not on nor will i be."

My bet is we hear that Woody is shifting from South America to Africa or back to Australia...lucky boy, but gee, I do miss him, and I have a fence that isn't getting built on its own.

Love you little brother, with the damn habit and all.

-- luludilly

huaraz steals a heart

2009-05-25T17:33:00.002-05:00

"i am in huaraz, as i have mentioned, and i am quickly and easily falling in love with this place. there is excellent coffee here, and chai tea that is as good as java moose in the days of lisa. incredible." [this must be something as W has not drank chai for seven or more years after realizing that most coffee shops pour it out of a box.] "the city itself is busy, somewhat crowded, and a bit dirty....but, there are pockets and gems throughout and the backdrop is stunning. the valleys stretch out and meander through the snow-capped peaks. i have been doing some maintenance and general errands and have not yet ventured into the greenery, but soon i shall." [one must ask, what errands could he possibly have to do? certainly not buy groceries or mow the lawn or pick up mail...I'm curious about these obligations.]

"did you know that yesterday was bob dylan´s 68th birthday? i only do because i attended a birthday party for him, with a latin bob dylan and friends playing his songs. they were good, and the latin ¨bob¨, actually resembled bob in the low-light. pretty awesome. i saved my ticket." [ah my brother...so aware of my esteem for mr. dylan...here I sit in the hills of old duluth, miles and miles from latin "bob" and my little brother...] "so this place, huaraz, is a bit of a climbers mecca, and has, from what i saw last night, a decent sized international/ex-pat community of climbers and livers. the place that i am staying, ¨jo´s place¨, is owned and run by an english ex-pat, jo, who stopped by here on a world trip about twenty years ago. he never left. looking out at the peaks in the mornings is drawing my interest and curiosity, bit by bit. this is a place where i could stay and live. there is so much to explore. anyhow, i have got to go meet up with simon, who runs motorbike tours here and his a ktm enthusiast."

For the record, I tried to get Woody into climbing. My dad bought him climbing shoes, which he did use in Joshua Tree. He took class in school, but it didn't seem to stick. I had a live-in climber he could have learned it all from. He did not. This would be the sort of move that would make me so green with envy I'd have to self-medicate. Again/more. Ridiculous brother. Ridiculous sister. Where oh where did I go wrong with my life choices? I will be returning the office tomorrow. Woody will be exploring the greenery...

Note: if we could get Woody to learn how to upload pictures from the road, we'd have some shots of this scenery. Anyone with ideas should post or email him.

-- luludilly

Map and Photo

2009-05-24T21:52:00.003-05:00

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Here is what I hope to be a link to Woody:
http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1DTtHTvYzxo/SgYIENWNN2I/AAAAAAAAAEA/MpK8wCHjdKI/s1600-h/IMGP1027.JPG

If that doesn't work, go to preparation, a blog of andrew's and scroll down to Saturday, May 9, 2009.

http://andrewlinker.blogspot.com/

Check out the new tattoo! Maura Rose will love it...

-- luludilly

Border Crossings

2009-05-24T21:42:00.003-05:00

Woody sent a quick note about his crossing into Peru; I guess he is free from the swine flu...of course, there are the rest of his citizen parasites to worry about. Woody has gotten a few posts lately and maybe another follower or two. The fans are calling, man, send us a story.

"i made it to the border in good shape, prepared for a quick exit and easy entrance--the exit was smooth, except for the health screening in the mobile command vehicle--this was on the ecuadorian side, and actually it only took 10 minutes. apparently i do not have the swine flu. [who does?] with all stamps stamped, all that was left was the paperwork for the bike on the peruvian side. i was informed, however, that i had to go across the road to the ¨ministerio de salud¨--the health department on the peruvian side, before they would do my paperwork for the bike. so i walked across the road, put my face against the barred window, offered a friendly greeting, which was returned by silence. great. back across the road the official told me that i would just have to wait, the health officials must be at lunch. an hour and a half later, still no health workers. i am standing, sweating, in the hot sun. trying not to attract a crowd, which i am failing at. i did my best to look politely frustrated by the inconvenience, [what is polite frustration in a 6'5" white man with a fully loaded ktm? I don't think such an emotion can exist] and made certain that the official on the porch saw me. i was beginning to wonder if i would make it to piura in the daylight.....

as i stood, looking pitiful, the national policeman whom i had spoken with earlier, approached me and asked if i had gone through the health screening on the ecuadorian side, and after i responded, ¨yes¨, he relayed that, assertively, to the official on the porch. ten minutes later i was shaking hands and revving the motor. it could have been all over in 20 minutes......

more later, i am tired. i am in casma (?) tonight. i am still in the desert, and it is a wasteland. tomorrow i will head back into the coolness of the cordillera."

Ah, such a small inconvenience for the man with nowhere to go but follow the habit and the open road. I'll post the map location of where he is tonight and try to link to a fabulous shot of him en route to the stahlratte. Bear with me...

-- luludilly

Peru

2009-05-22T07:02:00.002-05:00

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He made the crossing.

"i am in peru--another long day riding. i am going to hit it hard again tomorrow and try to get out of the desert that i drove into. cannot write much more, as this f-ing keyboard is impossible."

The day before was more rain and looking for yet another fuel pump:

"just got into loja, ecuador, in the pouring rain again all day. but a good ride. met two germans on 650 bmws travelling north. real nice. talked on the side of the road in the pouring rain for 20 minutes. never got their names......anyway, peru tomorrow unless i wake up with a cold and it is still pouring rain.

i can´t believe it is still so cold there, although, it is getting to be cold where i am as well, and i rode a few mornings ago in what had to be below freezing. it was the morning, however, that i was feeling especially lousy, so much of the thought that would have normally went into the cold, went towards how lousy i was feeling and whether or not i was going to be able to ride for the next 6 hours."

Hopefully we'll get more stories soon. I'm not sure if he is camping in the cold or finding lodging elsewhere...

-- luludilly

Bogota and a New Leader

2009-05-19T20:35:00.005-05:00

So Woody is stuck in Cuenca tonight; I guess it is pouring rain (better than our late May snow) and seven hours before he can stop again. This means we get to hear the promised story of socialist revolutionary party in Bogota, Colombia...and boy oh boy is it a goodie! Warning: you will experience fear, disgust, joy, humor and "you're shitting me" all in one story, and it is long.

"as it were.....i traveled through most of colombia with three other riders; two from the u.s., and the third, from canada. however, wading through such dynamics is always difficult, so when my motorcycle went into the ktm shop for a valve adjustment, the split was natural. i found myself in the ¨old city¨ of bogota, after a painful, confused, hour long taxi ride with a driver who had no idea where i wanted to go and little idea how to operate a manual transmission. he was burning his clutch right up climbing the hills, and we were crawling at times. i arrived however, at ¨hostal platypus,¨ and immediately met two adventurous norwegian travelers with whom i shared stories for a few hours. they had some good ones, which i will not share as i may intend on attempting similar travels and my friends and family need not know about them until they are safely over. onward."

[side note: my brother is the king of double clutching for maximum speed. He loves to criticize me shifting in heels or flip flops -- both of which are troublesome. Also, I love how he tells us that there are travel plans that we would object to --- this, while I'm still funding his sorry excuse for an adventure, okay, okay, so it is a good adventure. Still, I'm older and wiser and do not intend to start sending money for new cameras, bribes or better yet, bail, while he makes questionable choices. Point made, I hope.]

"the next morning, may 1st, started out like many others. i walked the streets getting a sense for this new city in this much feared country. as i walked, i happened upon a parade. interesting. i watched. so i can be a bit slow, especially in the mornings before i drink coffee, and it took a solid 10 minutes of watching before i truly realized that it was a protesting march as opposed to a happy parade. of course the signs were all acronyms so i didn´t yet understand......i watched a bit longer then wandered on down the sidewalk, where i sat down to read and watch the people streaming by. it was interesting, viewing the faces of the passerbys--happy, confused, enthusiastic, outright disgust...the reactions varied greatly. a couple enthusiastic colombians cruised by smiling, and asking me, ¨estas listo?¨ -- ¨are you ready?¨ oh boy. ready for what?"

[parade...typical, backwoods, small town homeboy brother...Alboroto, Woody, alboroto!]

"i continued on walking, finally finding the elusive coffee house actually serving colombian coffee (apparently more than 95% of colombian coffee is exported, making it truly difficult to find a cup in-country). sitting on the second floor, overlooking the sidewalk through enormous plate glass, i was really enjoying the coffee when i heard the first explosion. enough to shake the glass a bit. i immediately looked to the faces of the people on the street below, and my stomach dropped a bit as i saw fear registering on their faces. many began to quickly move away, looking back down the street at something i could not see......i guess that perhaps this is where the adventure of may 1st begins.....i became incredibly curious. out into the street i went, heading (cautiously, of course) in the direction of the explosion. shortly after came the next explosion (closer this time...), and more people shocked and moving quickly away. i continue in the same direction (cautiously). from around the corner comes a stream of motorcycles; two-up, the driver in ordinary police-dress, the passenger in full-on riot gear complete with shield, shinguards, and shotgun. i counted over 50, and as i counted, a number of the passengers dismounted and began pursuing punk-rockers on foot (okay, so they were anarchists, but i bet some of them listen to punk rock). i didn´t witness much brutality......"

[Sitting on the edge of your seat? Marveling at how he has made it this far with such slim common sense? Me too. Who walks into explosions?!]

"so i continued on into the heart of the old city, hearing sporadic explosions (which were tear-gas grenades, my lungs can attest to this...), and coming upon dozens of smashed building fronts and graffittied walls. around each corner i would come upon a group of riot police, and usually on the other side of the street, in a lingering sort of procession, the anarchists. some great mohawks in this crowd. the stand-off seemed to be occurring all over the city, and moving slowly towards the center.....

finally i arrived at the central square to see thousands of protestors before a stage set up in front of the president´s mansion. as fate would have it, i came across an older gentleman who was dying to talk to someone about what was happening in his country....and fortunately, for both of us, he spoke some english so between the two languages he was able to explain it all to me. i can sum it up very simply for everyone: corruption at the highest level of government. we stood and talked for an hour, all the while the crowd was shrinking slowly. apparently the stand-off was over; there would be no all-out riot. the tear-gas was still lingering....

as our conversation was coming to its end, i was approached by a middle-aged woman who was accompanied by an elderly woman wearing a crown and a sash, declaring her the queen of something. the queen had a tape recorder, and she stuck it in my face after she asked me what i would do if i were the president of colombia. well.....i began. you can imagine the rest."

[oh good lord...somewhere in norseland, a crotchety father is muttering, 'serenity now, serenity now.']

"i was encouraged along with nods and smiles and eyes full of revolution. my interview lasted only a few minutes, but by its end a crowd had gathered and i began to sweat a little. many more questions from many more intense faces (thankfully the recorder was turned off at this point, as my platform promises had been properly documented). somewhere in the midst of the barrage, the middle-aged leader, calling herself ¨luz¨, which means ¨light¨, asked me if i was hungry. starving, i was. political turmoil, protesting, and rioting has a way of draining....so off we were, a rag-tag group of about a dozen, bound for some backdoor with luz leading the charge."

[That's right, following fictiotious/delusionial queens -- who, granted, feel you may have what it takes to be the next President of Colombia -- terrific plan, wonderful idea, and you wonder why we all worry...]

"it was upon this march that i randomly ran into g**** and a***, a couple from california traveling on a kawasaki klr, whom had been aboard the ¨stahlratte¨ with me. all i could tell them was that i had just met these people, we were on our way somewhere, and i may have just become a candidate for the colombian presidency...after a coup......i was glad to see them, nonetheless. we arrived at a metal door leading into an inner courtyard, greeted by, no, stopped by a man who made it his business seeing that his will was accomplished. we were not going to get into this party. but luz charged forth, seeking a face in the crowd and returning with him--an organizer of some sort. she made him look at the faces of each of the uninvited guests, and somehow, he nodded with satisfaction and we were granted access. the flurry began. i was seated, brought beer and plates of cuban food, and looked upon intently by each set of eyes in the circle. [well, of course, you're the latest presidential nominee...] many questions, many struggled, muddled through answers in spanish. all the while g**** and a***, who were receiving similar treatment, would look up at me from across the circle, confusion flooding their faces but all the while being overcome by a smile.....this is why. why we travel. why we leave home for unknown, unsafe (so they tell us), far-off destinations, where truly God only knows what lies ahead each day.

the courtyard quickly filled up and the cuban guitarist had begun. early on i was cajoled into dancing, being passed around from one to the next, fumbling for the elusive rhythm that each partner had no difficulty discovering. it was a blast. i couldn´t believe any of it, and continually looked around trying to understand how i had gotten there. i was introduced to dozens of people, and each one was genuinely interested in me; where i was from, what i did there, and how i found colombia and colombian people to be. it was somewhere in the middle of all of this that i realized the answer to this last question, and i gave it enthusiastically to each and everyone: the best."

[For those who have danced with Wood, you can imagine the experience --- clumsy, strong, lanky, aggressive -- it must have been quite the sight next to the South American rhythmic movers. Ha. Serves the fools right for selecting such a hero; I bet there was at least one dislocated shoulder. And note, that last line, "the best". Remember that other travelers told him that months ago; piqued his interest and I guess they were right.]

"my favorite and most frequented dance partner was the 80-year old ¨queen blanquita¨. we danced most of the night, and she, at random moments, would simply start yelling. i have no idea what she was saying. as the night boiled on, the dancing only increased. between each song, the time was short, i was introduced to someone else. soon enough my notebook was being passed around and people were writing down phone numbers, addresses, and notes telling me that if i needed anything, anything at all, call them. g**** and a*** were long gone so i was finally enjoying the title of: ¨the only white guy here¨. with invitations for the rest of the week, i was ready to head back to the iguana, but.....the hospitality did not stop. luz and queen blanquita, along with luz´s daughter and her boyfriend, invited me to come back to their house. i don´t think that i could have said no to the invitation and not felt terrible, honestly. moments later i was squeezed into the backseat of a taxi, headed somewhere, once again......

i was welcomed into the home, given more food and orange juice, along with more questions. queen blanquita took me down the street to meet her son and his family, after which, luz took me walking further down the street to show me some points of interest in the neighborhood. bogota is huge and i had no real idea where i was in the city. it was late, aye, later when we finally got back to the house. i was shown to my bed and wished goodnight.

the next morning i was nearly choked with hospitality, and the question of the motorcycle arose. i was to pick it up from the shop and be ready to head on south, to meet up with the other riders. it took much convincing as luz and blanquita gave me a dozen options on where i could put my bike so that i could continue to stay at their house, one option that luz gave, as she did not understand the size or weight of the bike, was to lift it up onto the roof. three stories. lots of space up there, no doubt. i finally did break away sometime afternoon, headed for the shop and the unfortunately expensive bill. it took me the rest of the day, and half of the next, to process all of what had gone on.

oh, i failed to mention earlier, though i knew immediately upon entering the courtyard, that it was a socialist/communist gathering to which i had been invited to as something of "guest of honor". it was a week later, my last night in colombia, when i saw luz on television passionately speaking on a political rant. i listened for my name, but since ¨woody¨ is impossible for latin-american people to say, i wouldn´t have heard it anyway.....and my spanish is not quick enough to put together what she kept referring to....all i heard was, ¨.....big, tall, white, and motorcycle...¨ alright deahl, that is bogota. love you, gotta go."

Yeah, well, all right THAT is Bogota, and that is Woody...the next leader of the aft-feared Colombia, a country which, remember, he promised he would not enter under any circumstances. Thank god he didn't tell me this until he was through customs. I might have had him arrested.

-- luludilly

an aggressive tire & promises of riot stories

2009-05-18T22:19:00.002-05:00

This in from Woodstock (no idea what a more aggressive tire is --- heavier tread?):

"i found a new rear tire at the ktm shop in cuenca, ecuador. it is a bit more aggressive than i would have liked, but it was the only one they had and it was only $95, which is less than half the price of what i was figuring on having to pay. i also found a camera--it was a hair under $200, so cheaper than the one in colombia. this is absolutely the last one. [I really feel like I've been told this before.]

the ride yesterday was perhaps the toughest yet--i was looking for miles for a grassy place to take a rest, but i never found one. there are no shoulders on the roads here, and what is worse, where the shoulder should be, there is a foot and a half deep gutter which you cannot drive over or through, thus blocking the ditch. it was rough, but i am glad that i made it here. i am thinking that i will cross into peru on wednesday--i will keep you posted.

alright, more later, more stories. i have one from bogota that you will not believe....it involves a socialist revolution party and riots......"

Naturally he waits until he has gone through Colombia to scare us silly. Never mind that we're all hoping he will go back through there again one day...and then what? We try to forget socialist revolution party expressions of dissatisfaction? Brother, brother. Wood was battling stomach issues again not too long ago but is apparently feeling better. I can't wait until he has time to tell me more on his theories of parasites (yes, apparently all Americans host many of these devils, as in dozens, all the time, everywhere...he studies this stuff, to scare himself, to make me into more of a hypochondriac, I have no idea why...) I wish we had some pictures of the roadway and planetary topography, but alas, we have not yet mastered getting photos from camera to computer to sister. Heck, he can barely get photos TO camera these days!

Let's rally for Wood, post here with notes of support or reasons why he should not be missing home (a good one may be that there are still snowbanks on the north shore, for example). He is all on his own down there and has been for quite some time. I think lonesome blues can lie dormant...sorta like those nasty parasites.

We're thinking of you, Woody.

-- luludilly

cameras cameras

2009-05-17T11:51:00.003-05:00

Woody wrote Saturday to tell me news about his new camera. It is hard to believe, but not really considering I've also gone through an inordinate number of cameras in my thirty years. I think they just don't make them like they used to. Others claim that I'm "jerky" with things due to my "work hands" --- go figure. Since we have nearly identical sized hands (his may be a little thicker, and be more calloused) I'm guessing my brother has similar issues with delicate, technical devices. I can't recall if I reported that he got a new camera to replace the not-so-indestructible version I got him, and this was maybe a week or two ago, at most, but...

"some terrible news on my new camera. don´t freak out, [like I freak out! -- give me some credit here] or do as i am not there to hear it. it broke. i did nothing to it. honest. i took it out to take a picture of a pig in the dirt, snapped the shot, and then it said, ¨lens error, restart camera¨, which i did, but it continued to give me the error--so i pushed the lens in and it really broke then. good news is it is definitely under warranty, as i specifically asked about it before i bought it (good for me), but bad news is that i bought it in colombia and have to send it to florida (according to the guy who sold it, he gave me the warranty company, as of course it is not canon directly), so......i am in the market for a new camera. ridiculous. i was eating breakfast with some people who knew the story about my first camera, and they immediately mentioned the fact that perhaps i am not supposed to take pictures--i thought about it, but i have got to. anyway, that is the story of the new camera--i am holding onto both of them and i intend on being a satisfied customer upon returning. alright, now the kids are loud and getting to me in this cafe. i am still heading out tomorrow, but i think i am going to camp along the way, near the place where i sent the Spot this afternoon. it is like mars. or the moon. silent. cold. absolutely beautiful. wish i could take a picture. really."

Oh brother...

Well, the north shore sun finally came out in suburbia so I'm going to look at my tulips, mow the lawn and feign important work.

Here's the current location that we will never have a picture of...

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It helps if you look at the satellite view.

-- luludilly

News from the Bike

2009-05-16T13:25:00.002-05:00

Well, you may have noticed that we have not had any new postings for a while. The SPOT seems to be down, maybe the mountains or cloud cover are affecting it. Not to worry, I have now heard from Woodman. As usual he gives me a loser excuse for why he isn't giving full accounts of the habit...this time it's the chair hurting him. A chair...the man has been straddling a motorized horse for six months and he's whining about a chair?? Seriously?

"i have got to keep this one short, sorry, but the chair here is killing my back and the mountains are calling. i am in guaranda, ecuador, somewhere in the andes. i am on my way today to chimborazo, the highest mountain in ecuador and the furthest mountain from the center of the earth on the planet, due to the equitorial bulge. the road goes up to nearly 15,000 ft, which is obviously cold. i have split from the group entirely….. i am on my way to cuenca tomorrow, for a couple of days and a new tire, and then into peru. love you deahl. i have got stories and soon i will write them to you--"

I took the liberty of finding a map since the gps is failing us. This should be the terrain version, pretty mountainous, I'd say.

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That's all for now, folks. We'll see what sort of adventures await Woody --- meanwhile, here in mid-May Minnesota, we'll keep enjoying our snowfall...

-- luludilly

Status 5/11/9

2009-05-11T21:53:00.001-05:00

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-- luludilly

Ecuador - 5/11/9

2009-05-11T06:35:00.002-05:00

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Here's Woody's current location; he's left Quito. His plan is to head for the Andes, spend some time in the mountains, in his tent, away from cities and computers, get "cold" as apparently all the balmy weather has finally got to him. The discussion now is about shipping the bike to the US or driving it. Shipping may be a less expensive option. And no, none of this is happening anytime soon. The motorcycle habit is not easy to break.

Regarding his desire for cold air: I can't break it to him that on the Shore there are still little snow banks and even the hardy Scandinavian citizens are starting to writhe in discomfort over the long, cold spring following a cold and icy winter, so much so that one particular old Norwegian is plotting a journey to the New Orleans Jazz Festival and appears to be living in an altered state by exclusively listening to the New Orleans radio stations.

Oh little brother, the things I do for you...

-- luludilly

Stahlratte Tales Continued

2009-05-08T21:40:00.002-05:00

True to his word, Woods filled me in on the rest of his time on the big sailboat, from the romance of being a sailor turning to restlessness to motorsailing and landsickness...

"next order of business, the continuation and conclusion of the boat story. where did i leave off last? i think i was snorkeling in the reefs, loving the boat and the crew and the food--that night we had a barbecue and party on one of these islands where there was nothing but coconut trees and white sand. the food was excellent and the party got loud and a bit too much, so i headed down the beach in search of firewood for the bonfire and seashells. it was a great night out there on that island. away from the people and the noise i found silence and solitude. the next morning as the party-goers rose, the sickness began to spread. all that over-consumed the night before were feeling pretty lousy. i was up early, however, helping the crew prepare breakfast and get the sails set as we headed a short distance to another set of islands 10 miles away. i was still loving sailing. we stopped for the day and i partook in more snorkeling, and it was here, unfortunately, that i took my waterproof camera into the water to take some pictures of the reef, and it fried itself and died. very disappointing. the day was rather lethargic from then on, and i was beginning to need a project and realized that in order to survive on a sailboat, one must always have a project or two on the tick, in order to not go stir-crazy. fortunately, on a 106 year-old sailing vessel, the upkeep is endless. had i joined the crew, i would have had projects all day.

[Woody did end up purchasing a decent new camera in Bogota. He claims it works better than the bomb-proof $400 version his darling sister got for him...what the effff. At least we will be getting more pictures some day.]

the next morning we began the 30+ hour sail to cartagena. unfortunately the wind was not quite right, so we had to ¨motorsail¨ the entire way, which i found very unpleasant. the sound of the old diesel got right into your head, your stomach, and twisted them and banged them about relentlessly. for 30 hours. i helped set sails, then tried to get used to the rhythm and sounds of the boat and the open ocean. it was difficult and i found myself sleeping much of the day, but still feeling good enough to eat and talk. many others were losing themselves over the railings and not at all enjoying the trip. my time would come…

because i had slept so much during the day, i was up late talking with rollie as he had a 4 hour nightwatch. while we talked, rollie and i, we sailed into a storm. thunder, lightning, and wind--the whole works. it was quite thrilling. walking on deck became a game, a challenge to step and grab and remain stable and standing. i finally went to bed, listening to ¨the wreck of the edmund fitzgerald¨, over and over while we rocked endlessly. then i woke up and knew i had problems. for the next 4 hours, until landing in cartagena, i was wishing that i had never even thought about sailing on a boat on the ocean. i was so weak that i could only stand and walk for maybe 2 minutes before i had to sit, or better yet, lie down to rest awhile. and it was hot.

to get my bike on shore, we had to lower it into the dinghy, and then i had to sit on it while we motored to the dock. unfortunately for everyone involved, the water level was 3 feet lower than normal, which meant that the dock was 3 feet higher than normal, which meant that we had a beast of a time lifting the old girl up onto solid ground. prior to loading the bike into the dinghy, i didn´t think that i was going to be able to do it--but i made it to shore, barely, and once upon, i felt immediately better. not good, but much better. i looked up at the buildings and realized that they were tilted, and then they started to move. i thought that i had better go tell the builders on site that they had some issues here, and that they had better take a step back to look at what was going on. so this is ¨landsick¨, as the sailors call it. that last morning Pierre, one of the crew, asked me if i thought i might want to stay on board the stahlratte to work....i told him that i had better go ride my bike awhile...."

What did I tell you? Woody is not a man of the sea. Love him to bits, but he belongs on dry land, admiring the waters from the shore. I'm off to rest up as I've got a "race" mimicking my little brother's daily life --- hiking through the thick brush, riding bikes, kayaking and trying to get un-lost the whole time. I suppose this is what we posers do when we can't go out and live the great adventure in real life.

-- luludilly

Ecuador!

2009-05-08T21:33:00.002-05:00

Words from Woody at last. He made the border crossing and is safely through Colombia.

"well i am in ecuador, in quito, actually. we crossed the border yesterday, finally, after 4 hours of power outages and long lines. i think two days ago i hit 10,700 ft. it was cold! yesterday i went up about the same, shortly after crossing the ecuador border, then back down into the valley and the sweltering heat, then back up again into quito, around 9,500 ft. it amazes me, at each border, how immediately and distinctly different it feels on the other side. colombia was great--some of the nicest and most helpful people yet; yet through it all i had a bit of uneasiness inside of me. i am not sure if it was due to truth or simply my own preconceived senses about the place. i had decided to continue traveling with these guys through colombia, mostly to appease those at home....which i gladly did. it was a sacrifice, however, and because i traveled with them i missed much of the country. but i am here now, in ecuador, and those uneasy feelings have left me. i will be on my own again, soon, i think."

It sounds like he may be considering traveling with the Lukas twin, but is torn as traveling with others often impacts the way locals treat you and how many new people you might meet. More from his days on the Stahlratte soon...

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-- luludilly

From Bogota 4/30/9

2009-05-06T21:38:00.003-05:00

I was fasting and falling out of my head so I forgot to give everyone the rest of Wood's update from the days his bike was in the shop. He is currently approaching the Ecuador border. Check it out and hope for the best. He has been in Colombia nearly a week, or maybe over a week now. SPOTs have been going out, but no new personal updates. Obviously, the bike got fixed and is running well on the open road.

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"so, colombia. i have continued traveling on with andrew and milan, and they met up with the canadian man, randy, in cartegena. they met randy, riding a ktm adventurer, on the side of the road in mexico. he has been riding with them ever since, now actually paying milan as a translator and guide. I am going to try and stick it out with the group through colombia, to appease the minds of my family, which i am happy to do when i can.

i am in bogota tonight, actually on my own without my bike. she is in the shop getting her much needed valve adjustment and overall engine tuning. i had some more trouble with the fuel pump a couple days ago, and actually had to do a roadside swap of the fuel pump. it took two hours, which i think is pretty good considering i had to re-route all of the fuel lines. the issue first occurred, although briefly, in costa rica. i lost power at highway speed, as if the carbs were being flooded with fuel, which i think they were. in costa rica it lasted for only 30 seconds and then i regained power. i was getting low and fuel and the fuel had come from plastic jugs in a garage, so i figured it could very well have been dirty. this time, however, i had a full tank of fuel and it was clean and the bike actually sputtered and stalled and would not restart for a few minutes. then it did and ran good for 10 km and then repeated, at which point i decided to swap pumps (richard left me his old one, thank God, that was still working when he took it out and replaced it with the same aftermarket pump that i put in) and got to work. since the swap the bike has run pretty darn well, even at 10,000 ft. richard at this point had written to me to tell me that he had the same problem, starting in mexico, and that his bike is currently not running at all. he was also having some other problems as well.

and i am a bit overdue to have a valve check so i found the ktm dealer in bogota. one of the two owners (brothers) speaks english, which is great as my mechanical vocabulary is lacking. you see, i am so far away from the typical ktm rider of central/south america that they truly don’t know what to think or say when i pull up, overloaded, peeling grey paint, and filthy myself. ktm owners here have a lot of money. they have to. it is comical to roll into a dealership and this one was by far the nicest i have been to. a modern building with lots of glass and three levels. a woman, upon my entrance into the building, approached me carrying a silver tray with a glass of coke on a saucer. a saucer. it was for me. i then began talking with the owner and explaining to him and another english-speaking employee what has been going on with the bike, what i have done to it etc. it is starting to be fun talking about motorcycle systems as i am beginning to understand more and know more about them. there is a bit of respect that is given here. then the good news came. the owner, juan, explained to me that they have a special deal for ktm travelers. 40% off all ktm parts and labor! this is what i had imagined and hoped for prior to leaving--excitement about what is being done on a commonly loved motorcycle. so the bike went in for the work yesterday and i will not get it back until saturday. i am a bit miffed, however, as the mechanic and shop are not connected to the dealership. the mechanic does not speak english, but juan translated from me to him, everything that i had done and every problem and hypothesis that i had. today i went to the shop half expecting to pick up the bike only to find that the mechanic apparently did not understand all that was supposed to be done to, or what was wrong with, the bike..no sense worrying too much at this point.

so i am on my own in bogota, which it is nice to be once again...i have had some great experiences with some colombians so far, and expect them only to increase over the next few days. traveling with a group limits contact with local people. it is a huge downfall. it is much better to know a place and its people, alone.

at this point now, i am going to continue south. i want to leave colombia and get on my own again. i want to see bolivia more than anything, for some unknown reason. chile also has this draw on me."

So, it looks like that is where he is headed. And here we are finally seeing some green grass and a few stray tulip stems. I think it is probably staying pretty cool for him now, especially in the higher altitudes. You'll know about the crossing as soon as I do. Thanks to all for positive thinking and well wishing.

-- luludilly

Ludwig, Rollie and SOUTH AMERICA

2009-05-03T12:13:00.002-05:00

First, check out my comment from Wood on Villa Leyva. Then, get ready for a good story, Woody-style...

So, while the damn fuel pump is getting reworked yet again (who would have known you'd need six or seven fuel pump reworks/pieces just to get from Iowa to to Colombia...) Woody has had plenty of internet face time to fill us in on his adventures at sea. Among the family members we had decided he is happier and better on land, but now, I'm starting to think he might make it out there on the water better than I'd first thought (as long as there is no threat of sharks or scurvy)...

Anyway, the story of the Stahlratte is really something. It should make everyone want to pack up for Panama. (Remember what I said about the scaredy cat little brother when he talks about the underwater adventures!):

"i will pick it back up, heading out to the "stahlratte" in the dugout canoe, straddling the motorcycle, in practical disbelief of where i am and what i am doing. i was greeted at the side of the boat by the largest austrian man that i have ever seen. i have not seen many austrians, but this man, named rollie, was 6 feet 8 inches tall, at least, and his accent is just like that of arnold schwarzenegger. his first words were, “your bike is from my country.” rollie had been on the boat for two and a half months, beginning his work as payment for the passage of him and his motorcycle (which he built himself and has been traveling on for the last five years, living in many places for months or even a year at a time). rollie and i had quite a bit in common, as it turns out, and i will talk a bit about later. we had some great conversations out at sea. the boat, the stahlratte, is a 40 meter sailing vessel which was built 106 years ago for the purpose of fishing. sometime in the 70s it was bought by an organization of free thinkers/lovers, with the intention of overhauling her and living community style on it, which they did for 12 or so years. the organization still exists, but no more community living. the boat runs off of the energy of its fearless tri-lingual captain, ludwig. the money made goes directly into the boat maintenance and upkeep. upon my arrival with the two oregon boys, milan and andrew (andrew looks so much like luke xxxxxx--it is eerie), there were only a few people on board--a couple from san diego traveling on a bike, as well as an ecuadorian man, roberto, also traveling on a bike. roberto bought his 1150gs bmw in washington d.c. two weeks before getting on board the stahlratte. he traveled an average of 10 hours a day to reach panama, as he had only one month to make it back to ecuador. also on board was another man from germany, whose job, other than smoking cigarettes, drinking beer, and taking photographs, i never figured out. rounding out the crew was a german/swiss couple who belonged to the organization and had just arrived two weeks prior for a couple months stay on and around the boat. the german man, named pierre, is a carpenter by trade and truly a joy to talk with. calm and patient, he taught me a bit about sailing along the way. so, on board in time to enjoy the sunset and some delicious food prepared by the crew. at this point, i was so excited, so overwhelmed by the newness and awesomeness of the boat, that i was ready to sign up for the crew. i did voice this at one point.

we were anchored for the night, waiting for the rest of the customers to come the next day, and i slept soundly. up early and exploring the boat i was even more amazed and taken than i had been the night before....and i was on my way to south america! this fact, to me, i had a hard time grasping. i was actually going to be in south america, in colombia for that matter, in a few days. all the planning, all the work, all the time and energy and money and stress.....i don’t know, but south america, just the thought of it, seemed like someplace too far away to ever reach on a motorcycle, just too far away. but there i was, only 220 nautical miles from cartegena and another continent, at last.

the rest of the passengers arrived that day, and we set sail (actually started the engine) and made our way eight miles to an island like you see in the postcards: palm trees, white sand, blue-clear-aqua water, and not a person anywhere. i snorkeled through the reefs, seeing so, so many different fish and coral configurations. it is another planet, and it makes me a bit wary at times, for a moment or two. there are so many weird shapes and color combinations under there, it just doesn’t seem real. but it is incredible."

More on the bike repairs and Colombia soon!

-- luludilly

Fellow Riders

2009-05-02T09:32:00.003-05:00

Without Rich, Woody is on his own many days and likely more in his own head than he has been the last four months. Fortunately he continues to meet interesting people to share the motorcycle habit and to pass the miles, share stories of adventure and meet friends and family. On his way to the "steel rat" he found a few and maybe finally started to realize Minnesota was a long, long way from him. :

"the ride from bocas del toro to the boat took three days. i met up with two other riders from oregon who were going to be on the same boat in bocas, and we headed out towards david, panama. one of the riders, milan, has family there that he had not seen since he was a child. we stayed with an aunt of his who fed us wonderful panamanian food. the next day, the ride was flat and hot and uneventful. it took us, however, across the ¨bridge of the americas¨, which brought to me, a feeling of being far away from home. the panama canal is something to see, no doubt. it is flat out amazing that man constructed this to join the two largest oceans of the world. incredible. the supertankers are impressive as well. they do not have the length of our oarboats, but their height and width leaves one feeling very small. we stayed in veracruz at milan´s grandfather´s house. he had not seen him since he was young either. good people all around."

-- luludilly

Water Crossings and the Stahlratte

2009-04-29T22:58:00.006-05:00

Woody writes to tell of his adventures in getting to and onto the German boat that brought him from Panama to Colombia. He was (possibly still is) with two other riders from Oregon. I can only imagine what went on and the worries and laughter that likely followed...

(Note that I do have a movie of a Minnesota water crossing. I can't post it, I don't think, but if you're dying to see how it went, comment and ask for me to send it to you separately. But, I'm going to need some credentials to confirm that you are not a secret agent for any radical environmental group or government agency. One showing and it's pretty clear that KTMs don't do great things for the natural water flow.)

From Woody:

"the drive to the boat was great, winding up and through the hills on a new dirt road with great views and fresh air. finally moving away from the heat and the people. we were charged $6 a person to drive on this new road, apparently because we were americans. i have experienced this over-charging on several occasions and it bothers me quite a bit. it is less for anyone else.

as the road worked its way back down to sea level, we came to the river. of course the road went right through it. there was a truck on the far side, full of people, overheated, adding water to the radiator. we waited for a bit, but eventually decided that there was enough room on the left side of the truck to make it. i, being the oldest and most experienced rider (yeah right!), went first. the bottom was nice; small gravel and even looking. back in minnesota last summer, after one of my first ever water-crossings, i vowed that i would always walk the water before trying to drive it. ever since then however, i have found a reason not to walk it. i always seem to forget about the effect that water has in refracting the eye. for some other reason, i always think that i can make it through without getting my feet wet. so, to the left i went, shooting a straight line for the opening near the truck. when my exhaust pipes were under water, i knew that i had underestimated the depth of the water. but alas i had committed and had no choice but to stay on the throttle and pull us out of the quickly developed, dire situation. and we made it, with washed boots and pants and practically half of a jacket. the others, after seeing my near disaster, stayed right, where the water was less than a foot deep. andrew´s bike stalled however, and since he had been having electrical issues, this meant that we had to push him through the river and pop-start his bike on the other side.

the road dead-ended at the same river, where there were a dozen vehicles parked. when the canoe pulled up for the bike, i had my doubts. it was maybe 24 feet long and less than 3 feet wide. the bank was 4 feet above the bottom of the canoe, which made loading a bit more difficult. i helped andrew and milan load their bikes first (kawasaki klr´s, which are at least 100 pounds lighter than the ktm.) and watched as they motored away, rocking back and forth and gripping tightly to their machines. milan´s bike shifted and almost went over the edge. glad i waited to see how it was done. with my bike safely in and perched on the center-stand, and me on top of it with a foot on either gunwale. i was off to the Caribbean sea and the mighty german ¨stahlratte¨, which literally means, ¨steel rat¨, a fitting name for the ancient vessel."

I love that Woody can recognize his old, wise, experienced self might not be all that wise and experienced. At least he isn't fooling himself! You have to appreciate the modesty; now if only he gave a little deference to his wise old sister...

More to follow in the days to come ---

-- luludilly

Villa Leyva, Colombia

2009-04-28T06:47:00.001-05:00

Finally heard from Woody on Sunday morning:

"first computer time since panama and it is late and i need to have a bit of time to unwind before i sleep, so i just wanted to tell you that all is truly well and that i will write you a bunch about what has been going on in the next couple of days."

He is now in Villa Leyva, a town of about 4,000, founded in 1572, with incredible historical architecture that has been preserved. Look at the posted pictures from the map.

View Larger Map

According to Wiki, this town was where Zorro, the soap opera was filmed. For any followers in Mrs. Neal's Spanish II class, this ought to ring a bell. It is also the setting for part of Love in the Time of Cholera (a favorite).

I'll let you know more of the Woody adventures once I get them.

-- luludilly

Colombia Colombia

2009-04-25T22:25:00.002-05:00

View Larger Map

Woody is inland near the town of Curumani, which apparently is quite small. In my search about it, I discovered a blog posting for two cyclists. Not motorcycles but bicycles. I must say that my anxiety over Woody's motorcycle habit trespassing into Colombia lessened dramatically upon the discovery. If two young bicyclists were able to pass through this country --- and only just last fall --- well, Woods will be okay.

I'm hoping we'll get a real update from him soon, but for now this is it.

-- luludilly

Cartagena, Colombia

2009-04-24T19:18:00.004-05:00

It looks like Woody is in a marina in a port near the city of Cartagena. It looks big. No news from the little man himself yet, but I'm taking this as a positive sign that they made it past the Darien Gap and have not encountered any pirates. I think I'll be able to sleep tonight. If not, there's always Hornitos.

Here is a new take on a utilitarian motorcycle. I'm sure Woody was thinking, "I could put a table saw on that!"

Writing from K-zoo, with our Latvian gypsy and her sweetheart, because even big sisters need a road trip now and then...

-- luludilly

heartburn

2009-04-22T20:44:00.004-05:00

It appears now that they have sailed further from the coast -- which is good (farther from the rebels of the Darien Gap.) If anyone mentions pirates I'm going to lose another night's sleep and possibly be hospitalized for self-medicating my anxiety. Note that although I have all sorts of ailments, including possibly the need for knee replacements and a stress ulcer, I have consumed more antacids in the last three days than is healthy and I still can't get my chest to stop hurting, so pirates are not something I need to think about.

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=9.8275,-77.0743&ie=UTF8&om=1&ll=9.8275,-77.0743&spn=10.594267,17.53418&z=6

Here are some shots of Rich and Rach and Wood and Rach in Costa Rica. Look closer and the green building has a sign for Alka Seltzer --- apropro. And a shot of Richard's motorcycle collecting stickers --- let's not guess what might be in that bag...

-- luludilly

Is Woody Seaworthy

2009-04-21T22:17:00.004-05:00

Woody is still out there, off his motorcycle and on the waves, hopefully not seasick. Although having just watched some of his action videos, shot dangerously from a moving motorcycle ala the Latvian Gypsy, I can’t imagine anyone could be any sicker than me --- 90 degree, hair pin corners, the steady grrrr of the KTM engine putt-putting along at maybe 8 or 10 km, with an occasional drop into the crotch or off the wrist when a corner is miscalculated or a loud bus is barreling down the center line…nothing safer or more steady than that.

I'm not sure when, but he is getting close to being off the shore of the Darien Gap, which is what we have all been the most afraid of during this trip. There are no roads so it is not passable, but our understanding is that is controlled by rebels only and is incredibly dangerous and violent.

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=9.5112,-78.6176&ie=UTF8&om=1&ll=9.519158,-78.617477&spn=0.165912,0.273972&z=12&iwloc=A

Wikipedia's quick summary of the political challenges:

"The Darién Gap is subject to the presence and activities of three Colombian rebel groups. These include the United Self-Defense Forces of Colombia (AUC), a right-wing paramilitary group formerly headed by Carlos Castaño; and both left-wing National Liberation Army (ELN) and Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC). All three groups have committed human rights violations. The U.S. State Department reported that combined, the ELN and FARC have been responsible for 51 kidnappings and ten murders of U.S. citizens. Kidnappings are common for political and financial gain."

Lots of prayers, please.

-- luludilly

2009-04-21T06:31:00.002-05:00

Just in at 6:30 this morning, Woody is on the sailboat, current location:

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=9.4814,-78.8182&ie=UTF8&om=1&ll=9.412484,-78.916168&spn=0.331926,0.547943&t=p&z=11&iwloc=A

Off the coast of Panama. Check out the posted pictures on google maps (not Wood's, but others) and then think about our recent snow. Some guys have all the luck.

-- luludilly

P.S. Sister Confession

2009-04-19T21:56:00.003-05:00

Tonight, looking at 703 photos of my brother's travels, his new friends, the incredible sights, him...well, I am proud of Woody, but I can't lie: I really hate this habit sometimes.

And so, little brother, you are missed more than you know. We are all hoping and praying for your safe travels to continue and that one of these days we will have you home. If you run into trouble, warn the perpetrators that I will find them -- at all costs -- so they best leave you alone. Sorta like my threats on the school bus back in 1988...I mean business.

-- luludilly

Scenes from the Road

2009-04-19T21:19:00.002-05:00

1. sporting Aerostich t-shirt
2. and we think Duluth has pothole problems
3. a camp set-up early on
4. can you imagine "laying down" one of those bikes?
5. just another ride along the ocean at dusk

-- luludilly

The pictures are here!

2009-04-19T20:56:00.004-05:00

We'll have to rely on Woody and Richard to tell us about these pictures. Wood's bike still fully loaded and clean. I suspect this is one of the first border crossings.

-- luludilly

3/31/9 Fuel Pump and Stories I Forgot

2009-04-19T13:18:00.003-05:00

I forgot to share these entertaining anecdotes before I got to the current day. Track back. Remember that Woody got a Honda fuel pump in the interim (while the replacements were somewhere en route). And if you're a gear head or monkey wrench kind of reader, you're going to really appreciate these details and creative fixes:

"while in monteverde we ran into 3 out of 5 guys from washington state whom are traveling on motorcycles as well. we first met this group in san jose a couple weeks ago. they are an interesting conglomeration and i am not sure how they have made it so far without killing one another, or at least separating. they started out january 30th with five guys ranging from 21 to 26. in mexico, the first of them cashed in and sold his bike to jarko, the fin. in mexico, jarko was a stranger. he has been riding with the original 4 ever since. also while in mexico, the new 5 met a 50 something man on a ktm adventurer traveling solo. this guy has ridden with them since as well, more entertained than anything, from what i understand. there are 4 kawasaki klr's and jarko is on a 600something suzuki something. so the 3 who were in monteverde, had met the owner of a hostel there, and this guy is a motorcycle enthusiast, along with his family and his friend. anyhow, we ended up leaving monteverde a day after they had, headed for playa samara, on the nicoya peninsula, to meet up with them for a couple days. playa samara is a smallish, relatively laid-back, surfing town. lots of tourists, of course. so we spent a couple of nights there, camping cheaply and walking the beaches. last wednesday it was, rachael and i went for a ride north up the coast, looking for something new. the roads were all dirt and fairly rough. it was a good ride, but hot. nosara is about 25 kilometers, or 45 minutes, from samara.

on the way back we were literally 100 yards from the tent when the fuel pump burned up. i took it out and it was really hot. this was the first time that i had really seen the pump the ktm mechanic had put in. it didn't have points like the old one, but it was fully electric. the "greenboard" was literally burned right up. i had had a few problems with minor flooding under certain circumstances, but otherwise it had been very good and i thought it would go for a long time. there was not fixing this for me. however, i had my old fuel pump with, and i went to work on it. i put it away that night at midnight, with some success. the material of the actual "points", of which i am not sure exactly what the material is, was completely gone on the bottom, leaving only metal, top had a touch left. the more time i spent on this pump, the more ridiculous the design appeared. basically because the the points were gone, the position of the loading spring was changed just enough so that it could not reset itself, thus causing the plunger to over rebound and "lock" the spring. if that makes sense. so i did what anyone would have done. i used my $18 butane soldering pen i bought from radio shack, and i soldered a "shim" onto the bottom plate where the point once was. then i zip-tied around the pump, the plate holding the new point, and the plunger, thus creating a "stop" for the plunger so that it could no longer over-rebound and lock out the spring. and it worked. it was good fun problem-solving this. so because of the zip-tie, the pump was no longer very waterproof. we headed out thursday morning for nosara, and further north to ostional, on the "backroad" where supposedly there would be no water crossings to potentially damage the pump. it was hot, steep, and rough, with little traffic. we drove for a good 3 hours with no problems, and i think that we were about 8 kilometers from nosara when the pump fried. i think it was because of the zip-tie. i didn't think about it at the time, because i was so excited that it was working, but the plunger was having to push against the zip-tie, which gives a little, causing the pump to strain. had i been able to fabricate a solid "stop", i may have gotten further. but the pump was fried. we (rachael, richard, me) were in the woods.

begin the good times. our first attempt at towing came last summer, when i ran out of gas by the state garage while practicing at the motorcycle test course with duane. we towed into super america with relatively little sweat, granted there was nothing on either of our bikes. now we are both loaded, and i with a passenger as well, on rough dirt roads with hills and big rocks. it took us close to 3 hours to make the 8 kilometers. richard tipped 5 times, all on hills, and we crossed 3 rivers. it was a blast. we made it to "playa guiones" just before the sun went down. while checking out for camp areas (and there were many, as there are no houses on the beach and no town nearby), we met "chainsaw". real name "ryan", from mission beach, san diego--he has been living in costa rica for a couple years, working on his tourism website business. he has long hair and an interestingly manicured beard, which was definitely not done with a chainsaw. he drives a 1971 toyota landcruiser, and lives in a house in the actual town of nosara, where there are no tourists. he immediately invited us to stay at his place, opening everything up to us. we towed into a secure place and rested. this guy chainsaw is strange in a different way. he started out in the screen printing industry as a teenager, building up fast and developing a name in california. he explained it all to us in pieces, which have been difficult to piece together. he and his business partner went to high school together, where they became known as the "regulators", as they "ran" some things. they had a few t-shirts printed with their name and logo. shortly after, with dozens of requests for t-shirts, the "regulator" name and brand went into the screen printing business (the logo is a skull with dreadlocks). this clothing company has since been put onto the "shelf", as "chainsaw", (he uses the 3rd person sometimes), refused to go big into the surf shops with his line, opting instead to keep it small and special. in fact, the only way you can buy from them is to meet one of "them", or someone who has, and get a password number to use on their website to order their clothing. we, of course, are going to be given the code, as we have befriended chainsaw. so this happened on thursday night.

rachael and i stayed at chainsaw's another night, then he turned us onto a friend who was moving into a house up the coast, in ostional. the "house" his friend is moving into is something special. wide open kitchen with concrete bar and countertop, artistically tiled bathroom, and two sleeping lofts. the entire bottom is open to the air, on a hill, overlooking the tiny town of ostional and the pacific ocean. his friend is paying $170 a month for this place. we slept on the beach and then stayed at the house the next night. yesterday, monday, we took the bus for 7 hours into san jose. it was a coach, and actually a rather enjoyable trip…richard is hopefully picking up the package as i am writing this, and tomorrow i will take a bus back to chainsaw's, and get the bike ready to drive."

And that is exactly what he did.

-- luludilly

4/16/9 To Colombia

2009-04-19T13:05:00.002-05:00

Woody tried surfing (again). My recollection is that the last time he was going to do this in San Diego he was terrified of sharks and wouldn't get off the dry sand. But then, I like remembering my little brother when he isn't so brave, helps me stay in charge I guess. And so, that is it and Colombia it is:

"bocas del toro is a new and interesting place. i met a guy from northern california my first night here and spent yesterday traveling around some of the islands with him. i went snorkeling for the first time and i loved it. saw tons of fish and beautiful, amazing, crazy coral reef. i also tried surfing a bit, with little success. i paddled out, with some difficulty, then i looked up and realized that i had paddled further out than any of the other surfers in the sea. so i figured i should try to catch a wave to close some ground, but before i could even put my mind to it, one caught me and i flew into the beach, however, i never stood up, just surfed on my belly. it was good fun just being out there in the water, riding over and under the waves. until the board wax rubbed my nipples raw. they are very sore today.

i ran into the two bikers from oregon yesterday and i am going to ride with them from here to the boat. there is some confusion as well, as the boat is going to colombia. it is, in fact, difficult if not impossible to boat around colombia. i understand how you feel about colombia, but you have to understand that everything that you have heard, read, and seen, is not all that there is to the story of this country. i will not be traveling alone, either, but rather with 3 other bikers. milan is from panama and his parents live in colombia now, if that makes you feel any better. have some faith, and realize that adventure is moving through the unknown and being uncertain of the outcome. do not be afraid and do not freak out, as those things can only affect me negatively, and mindset is key to adventure--being clear headed and positive. i am headed tomorrow, with milan and andrew, towards panama city. unfortunately i do not think that i will have a chance to meet up with anders or the couple from minnesota. i spent too much time in monteverde getting ready for the plunge into south america, and now i have a boat to catch."

There really is no alternative, and whomever told me I could still be bossy from a distance was wrong. My influence is not as great from thousands of miles away, nor are my empty threats to make him sorry for disobedience. Oh, wait, I guess the efficacy of that threat was lost when he turned twelve and could beat me arm wrestling...how soon I forget.

-- luludilly

3/14/9 The Route

2009-04-19T13:01:00.003-05:00

There has been a lot of discussion about the dangers of this trip, not the parasites or the starvation on volcanoes, but the civil unrest, anti-American dangers. One thing that was "agreed" in advance was that under all circumstances, Woody would not enter Colombia. Whether it is rationale or true, it is the one country which provokes the most fear for the family.

As I finish getting our readers up to speed on the great adventure and start current time, I thought the background would be helpful in understanding how it is that Woody is now sailing to Colombia on a German sailboat with his motorcycle.

"i cannot know for sure until i get into panama and talk to the people there. i understand that colombia has this greatly terrible reputation. it is not very accurate, however. a few weeks ago i met an australian man on a motorcycle. he is on his way to alaska, on his own. he started in argentina over a year ago. now, based upon what he had to say, colombia is the greatest of the south american countries. he told me that if central america continued to disappoint him, he was going to turn around and head back to colombia. he traveled in and out of colombia for something like two months, seeing most all of it and crossing the borders many times. he said the people are try harder than anywhere else to help you out. they are overcompensating for their bad reputation. he said it would be crazy to skip it out of fear, as his experience was excellent. it is difficult to find shipping information when you are not near the ships. thus, i will have to wait until i get into panama to find out the options available. the australian gave me the name of a guy in panama who deals with most of the bikers coming through, and knows the captains and schedules. i plan on looking him up. literally every traveler i have met who has been to colombia speaks highly of it, and the first thing they say is that they were warned about going there. you will know when i know."

-- luludilly

2/26 to 3/14 Finding Rachael

2009-04-19T12:56:00.002-05:00

Rich's sister Rachael was studying in Costa Rica this spring. The guys had been planning on visiting her somehow at some point. The original details are foggy to me, but it turned into one of those great romantic birthday surprises you might see on HBO...you know, the ridiculously unlikely way that things line up and work out against all odds.

"we are still on the island of ometepe, planning on leaving soon. actually we were planning on leaving today, but that has changed to monday. it is nice here, and very cheap to stay and eat. on monday we will take the ferry across the lake (10 hours, i hope i don't get seasick) to san carlos. from san carlos we have to try and fenangle our way onto a panga (very small boat) with our bikes so we can cross the river into costa rica. not sure if it is even possible, but we will give it shot, knowing full well that we may have to turn around."

"we made it to cano palma, biological station, on sunday, unannounced. the entire transport there worked so well and was so easy. rachael had told me the steps one had to take to reach the station. we were able to camp for free at a hotel the night before, about an hour from the boat to the station. the woman there was exceedingly nice. in the morning, at the hotel, we had 3 two-toed sloths in the tree above us. the ants ate my feet up, and my camp stove was spitting fuel at me. not a great night. when we arrived in pavona, where the boat was to leave from, we met ronald. he runs the car-park, as you can't easily get a vehicle down the river or up the canal. he spoke english well and was fully trustworthy. he introduced us to his father-in-law, don edgar, the owner of the vista mar hotel, across the canal from the station. by fate, he was waiting for some clients and offered to give us a ride, for free, to the station. the canal that we started on was narrow, with trees on either side, touching one another. thick jungle rain forest. dark, muddy water. the ride took about an hour. as we pulled up to the station, which was flooded from recent heavy rains, there were a couple of people in the look-out above the submerged docks. as we got close, not quite sure what to say, the girl sitting there broke the awkwardness with "hey, you're woody!"

it was more of an accusation than a statement. we landed and were greeted by those around, all of who knew who we were, and also that we were not supposed to be in costa rica yet...

we spent five days there at the station, participating in some of the surveys and events, as well as eating with the group and everything else. i saw some wildlife, including a large american crocodile and a few caymens, many colorful birds, iguanas, and some huge spiders and other scary bugs. it was a great time."

-- luludilly

2/24/9 Island of Ometepe

2009-04-19T12:51:00.002-05:00

For all the preparation and common sense that the boys appear to have, one of my favorite stories thus far has been the poorly thought out volcano hike. Apparently, they are not quite ready to be world explorers. And for the moms out there, it is true, that you still get them through their darkest moments.

"we climbed to the top of a volcano yesterday. it took us 7 hours to complete the climb, up and down, that is. my i.t. band started to kill me again on the way down. it was pretty sore and swollen last night and today. i know that you used one of those foam rollers, and i tried that too (although i've no access at this point), but is there anything else that you did to help it? the volcano was definitely anticlimactic. there was no view from any point on the way up, and at the top it was cold and cloudy and wet. it was good, though, to do. the mud on the way down was treacherous. worse than minnesota red clay. so we climbed up one side and down a different side, ending at an old coffee plantation that has been converted into a funky, run-down hotel/restaurant. they made the most incredible french toast that i have ever had in my entire life.

oh yes, the stupidity of the two of us--we brought only 1 clif bar each, for the entire climb. we had plenty of water, but only one frickin clif bar. 2 hours from the top we were both starving. we talked about food for 4 hours; our favorites from home, from our moms, from our own creations. upon arrival at the coffee plantation, we ate, waited 3 hours, ate again. we had breakfast this morning. i think i had 5 orders of this french toast between the 3 meals.(it cost 1.50). amazing."

Oh the love of adventure. And the foolishness of boys. Big, calorie-burning boys.

-- luludilly

3/6/9 the fuel pumps - still waiting

2009-04-19T12:44:00.003-05:00

On the 6th of March, Woody was trying to take a positive spin on the situation, waiting it out for the fuel pumps that I had ordered weeks before, but heard nothing of their status, and once I received them from Canada, would need to be shipped to Costa Rica for about $200, plus the duty tax on their hand. Woody kept me entertained with how he passed the time:

[on not having the pumps yet.]

"no problem, this is what it is all about. i was fortunate that the fuel pump died when and where it did, as opposed to on a lonely stretch of road somewhere, close to sundown. we are going out to look for a better hostel this morning, and then to try and run some errands around san jose. i have started carving, that is, woodcarving. it began on ometepe while we were spending a good portion of the days in a hammock. once i started, i didn't stop for two and a half days…"

[on stomach ailments and parasites.]

"from what i read, they [parasites] are sneaky. often times they are not detected in any medical tests, thereby going untreated for years. they have been known to live for 30 years! i also read that a large percentage of people, even in america, are hosts to parasites. something around 30 percent. crazy."

[on the local climate.]

"the picture of the grand marais harbor looks pretty cold. there is a part of me, however, that wouldn't mind walking down wisconsin street, bucking the wind on my way to a hot cup of something. a small part of me. san jose is at or around 1200 meters, so it is a bit cooler than i have grown accustomed to."

[on my creative solutions.]

"well it sounds like you are kind of getting into this motorcycle mindset after all. looking for alternate pumps for your bro, eh? cool. thanks. the new pump that is in my bike came from a honda--most likely it is identical to the pump in your car. it cost only $60, so is way cheap as well. also, the mechanic who found the pump and checked the pump to be sure that it would work (that the p.s.i. was close to the same, and the amperage draw was close as well), is, i believe, an extremely competent mechanic. so i feel good about the whole process. richard is a little nervous now, being that the new pumps are somewhere in ship land, mine just died, and his bike has more miles, which means more hours on the pump. my new pump is the only one in all of costa rica, from my understanding. so richard is out of luck at this point, completely. he may either be riding with me, or i will be towing him. i sent xxxxx an email this afternoon, but alas, today is friday, so maybe i will not hear from him until monday, if he has his act together. we will be alright."

-- luludilly

3/5/9 San Pedro, Costa Rica

2009-04-19T12:39:00.005-05:00

The pump concern eventually became a crisis, complete with stories of bribery, deceit, being stuck in their least favorite country, in a disco club hostel, feeling the youthful crunch of drug searches, and oh yeah, two white boys on a bike, as Woody provides a colorful picture for us:

"hey, its me again. so have those fuel pumps showed up yet or what? today we took our bikes to the ktm dealer here in san jose to have the radiators flushed. when they were all done and put it back together, it wouldn’t run. the fuel pump decided to die on the spot. this is a real bummer. fortunately, the mechanic is good and all of the guys at the shop are very helpful. my bike is there, safe and sound, waiting for a new fuel pump. tomorrow these guys are going to search all the motorcycle shops and parts stores in the city for a temporary pump. i believe that we will be able to come up with something that will work. fuel pumps are relatively universal, as long as the pressure is close, we should be able to make her run. so when you can, please send the new pumps. i talked with the santos, the owner of the shop, and he said that there should be no problem shipping to his shop, as long as it is DHL. i am not sure how long it will take, but i would guess somewhere around 2 weeks. maybe there is faster shipping for a bit more money? if so, i say go for it. costa rica kind of sucks. it is nothing like the rest of central america. i am sitting at a computer at this hostal, it has a swimming pool, a bar, a restaurant, and a dance floor. like a club dance floor. it really sucks. we stayed here last night because it was cheap, and close to the ktm dealer, and because we were only going to stay for one night. and here we are, again. there is a kid who works here, however, who has a ktm, speaks english pretty well, and seems to have some connections in this city.

wow. 3 hours ago i started writing to you, at which point, 20 police officers entered the hostel and demanded everyone’s passports. they have been going through all the rooms with a dog, looking for drugs. they have not been to our room yet, and they will not find anything, unless, of course, they decide to plant something. wouldn't that be just great. as i was saying, costa rica really sucks and if i never come back here again, i will be happy.

tonight richard and i rode through san jose on his bike. the two of us, morons that we are, navigating through third world traffic in the dark, me holding onto the gps and shouting directions and richard laughing hysterically each time he stopped quickly and i slammed into his back. comical. wish someone who knew us, could have seen us. we are supposed to be waiting in our rooms for the police to come with the dogs, but after 2 hours we have moved into the computer room. our connection here, his name is mauricio, has gotten us a private room in the basement, where it is quiet, for the price of a dorm bed. he also got us free parking for the bikes, or bike, as it were. well being that i am going to have some time on my hands tomorrow, i will write to you soon enough. keep me posted."

-- luludilly

2/11/9 Danli, El Paraiso, Honduras

2009-04-19T12:31:00.004-05:00

Woody and Rich studied up on their mechanical repairs in preparing for this trip. I suspect that they practically took their bikes apart completely more than once. They had fabulous guidance from some of the best local resources, who continue to give advice from afar. The major mechanical failure thus far has been having to replace worn out fuel pumps. Accessing replacement parts is something they don't have control over, unfortunately. The fuel pump saga went on for a month, or close, and involved many days of correspondence, me giving my credit card number to a stranger on a cell phone somewhere in Canada, waiting and waiting and waiting. It started simply enough -- with fear that they might run into difficulties in the future, as parts wear out after thousands of miles on rough roads.

"we are holed up in a town called danli, about 30km from nicaragua. we will cross later today. we spent that last 3 days in san pedro sula, honduras. i was told that san pedro was not a place worth checking out--maybe from a tourist viewpoint it is not, but it turned out to be a nice stop. Our first day we located motorcycle shops, (we both needed rear brake pads, and an oil change was close enough to be done as well), of course they were all closed until monday. the only ktm dealer in the country had 5 bikes on display, no parts, no accessories of any kind.

we were directed to a mechanic by the name of xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx--an american married to a honduran. he and his family raced motocross. he pointed us to some shops and also told us that if we were unable to find the brake pads, he could have them sent to a nearby town to be re-done. so i spent the next day stripping the bike down, changing the air filter, checking for loose bolts (after the 100 plus kilometers of washboard, potholes, river beds). i took the fuel pump out to file the points and was a bit discouraged by their appearance. they are worn way down and i am not sure how long they will last. hopefully to costa rica…

that first night we met marcos, a happy honduran in his thirties. he told about his church and said that he would pick us up sunday night to take us there. it was an experience. A celebration of sorts, nothing like churches at home. on monday morning we found brake pads and 15w50 synthetic oil. the shop, vrc motorsports, let us do the work in place, using their tools. very nice.
while there, we met matamoros--a very excited honduran. he has a ktm adventurer and wanted to ride with us. with the work on the bikes done, we left san pedro yesterday morning. at 8:27 am (3 minutes early), matamoros showed up on his adventurer, along with two friends also on ktm´s--another adventurer and a superduke(the sportbike). they rode with us for 2 hours or so, took us out to lunch at a fancy restaurant and made sure that we were planning on returning to san pedro. their homes are open for us upon our return. it was an interesting experience--our first with wealthy folks. the gap between the rich and poor is huge in honduras. they were nice guys--a bit much bravado and machismo, though. riding with them, i felt as though we were looked at differently--alone, we are on big dirty bikes loaded down with a pile of stuff. with them (their bikes were immaculately clean) and their fancy riding suits, it was different."

-- luludilly

Granada - Melting Pot 2/14/9

2009-04-15T23:03:00.002-05:00

Usually I envy my brother...I swear that I was really a straight-shooting kid, and yet, I'm the one here in a traditional routine with responsibilities and people counting on me. Some days when I read his stories and see his latitude and longitude I really want to box his ears. But then, I realize, you only get one brother, if that, and hell, I'm lucky he's out there living like there's no tomorrow. Can you imagine my complaints if I had an accountant for a brother? (No offense intended.) Of course, we both have our soapboxes, and Woody's experiences are interesting. His comments on the tourism and privilege strike a chord. I have to remind him that most people don't have the luxury of the motorcycle habit.

"yeah granada is definitely a place to see--and i am sure that you will find my complaint ridiculous and out of place--but it is so hot here! hot like hot. hot like standing i was totally drenched in sweat at 9 am. i got too much sun yesterday on the ride here, and today, on top of something i ate, i´m not feeling too great. it will pass. so will the heat. the other problem here, is the number of tourists. white skin everywhere, and the feel of resentment and desperation in the eyes of some darker skinned folks. it is too bad. the question, "why are we here?” as in here, in granada, as foreigners--came into my head today. because it is not our country. because it is not yet as plasticized, commercialized, or dramatized as our own land is. but, with this in mind, this place just as every other place viewed through the eyes of developed westerners, is on its way. because that is what these tourists want anyway. the same thing they left behind in their own "developed" countries, they want to find here, at their fingertips. hard to understand. so as granada appears to be beautiful and enchanting, it is, in my mind, simply a vacation destination. this is admittedly a gross generalization, having spent 19 hours here at time of writing, and undoubtedly the true beauty lies behind the gates in the hidden courtyards, buried in the life-histories of the people here. undoubtedly. but it is too hot for me to hang around and find a way to get invited into the courtyard."

And then, back with the humor and frivolity:

"in other news, my arms have taken on a neopolitan theme, going from brown, to red, to white. yes, i know, the sun is more powerful here, closer to the equator...

well alright XXXXX, i gotta go find some ice water."

Oh yes, my brother, can't you tell he's the survivor of a tourist town? That bitter resentment never evaporates completely, and the empathy, well he's spot on.

-- luludilly

Nicaragua 2/19/9

2009-04-15T22:34:00.003-05:00

We grew up on the shore of the largest freshwater lake in the world -- actually a few miles from shore. That is supposed to mean something, but mainly it has been an affliction. I am restless and claustrophobic unless I can see a wide open expanse of water. Mountain tops work okay for a while, but water is what I crave. Try living anywhere else and you shrivel up, or run into walls, cars, bad men, unfortunate situations...water is in our blood.

That's the curse of the great gitchie gumee. It haunts you. Whenever we have traveled, we seem drawn to large water spaces. I lived on the shore of the North Sea while studying abroad. Woody chose the big island of Hawaii as one of his winter stopovers. Despite being midwesterners, we are not land lovers by nature.

However, this does not mean that we have spent much time in that cursed lake. In fact, despite many discussions about why it would be a worthwhile endeavor, neither of us have driven around the lake nor have we traveled to the Susie Islands or to Isle Royale. I suppose this is one of those we-live-here-so-we-don't-do-the-tourist-things. There is a lot of that in our small town. I went to our historical society once in fourth grade. It was fascinating. I have never been back. We went moose hunting on the moose viewing trail when our cousins visited in 1995 --- no need to go when you live there. So, the lake: we should be familiar, but frankly, we don't know much about it. Maybe if we hadn't given up family vacations when Woody finished high school...

This kind of delinquency in our home culturing causes awkward situations and inconveniences out in the big world. Take this, for example, from Woody:

"we have crossed safely into nicaragua, spending the night in esteli. today i think that we will ride northeast to the miraflor reserve. sounds like a good place to see. from there i do not know exactly. the island of ometepe, in lake nicaragua, is the largest lake island in the world, i think. that means that it is bigger than isle royale--would help me to discern had i ever been to isle royale. the island is actually two volcanoes joined by a lava flow. we can put our bikes on a ferry and head out there, which i think we will do when we get that far south."

And oh yeah, at some point on this journey, Woody decided we really ought to plan a brother-sister circumnavigation of Lake Superior by kayak. How's that for total disregard of my blanket prohibition on all family vacations until death?

-- luludilly

Boat Passage - 4/4/9

2009-04-15T07:33:00.002-05:00

As with so many journeys, luck plays a big part of the story. For Wood and Rich it's been meeting the right people and using their common sense when they need to. Woody's goal of Tierra del Fuego stands strong, but to reach this destination, luck is required. A few Saturdays ago, it paid him a visit:

"i am back in monteverde today, up high in the cloudforest. i came back to track down a guy with a campstove that i wanted to buy. my stove has broken 3 times on this trip. it is now working only because JB Weld is holding the gasoline in. i am not confident in it any longer, and this guy, who was traveling on a motorcycle with 5 other guys from the northwest, is selling his bike and everything else. i bought the stove, which is a dragonfly like i used to have and got stolen, only the larger size, for $60. it is almost brand new, plus another fuel canister. i went for a ride with him and another of his crew, and found out that two of the guys are continuing south. they have booked passage for the 20th of april on a german sailboat out of the san blas islands. i have emailed the captain, and hopefully there is still room on the boat

so all is pretty well here. i am staying at "pension santa elena", and reading "the world according to garp" and his story, "the pension grillparzer", if you remember. funny stuff. this pension has a flaming italian named "ro" who has taken to calling me "tiny". this place has a good feel to it, though, and it is cheap, as i am camped out back. i will be here for another night, maybe two, then one or two in san jose before i head for the border at sixaola, on the Caribbean."

And a few moments later, the follow up:

"hey, while i was writing to you i got an email from the captain. there is room for me and bike on the 20th of april. that was so easy! tierra del fuego, here we come!"

Stay tuned as we find out if Woody meets Anders, the Hawleys or Rani.

-- luludilly

PANAMA!

2009-04-15T07:18:00.002-05:00

I am jumping ahead to current events. At 7:30 last night, Woody sent a Spot message from Bocas del Toro, Panama.

I hope this link will work:

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=9.3386,-82.2407&ie=UTF8&om=1&ll=9.346601,-82.242966&spn=0.020749,0.034246&t=p&z=15

You may have to cut and paste it until I figure out how to put a link in a post. Weird. Anyway, gorgeous, check out the pictures on the left side of the map. If you use the satellite image you can see streets and everything.

From here Woody will be catching a ride on a German sailboat (I believe the captain is German, I don't know the nationality of the actual vessel) around Columbia. Thank goodness for that. (There have been some significant threats of physical harm -- by mom to him -- if Woody disobeyed mom's request and went through Columbia...)

We are hoping he is going to connect up with some contacts in Panama (thanks, Thibodeaus!) before he departs. I'll have more tonight!

-- luludilly

on a lighter note

2009-04-11T21:48:00.006-05:00

Woody has a way of being really funny, even in foreign lands, with only minutes to spare on a borrowed computer or a pay by the minute internet cafe. And I don't even like jokes. Or humor. But then, this is the man who once told me to be quiet, he was teaching my dog how to eat (while on all fours, mouth to the bowl, chewing ProPlan with no shame.) One of my favorite Woody funnies came in response to my reminder of our pa's birthday. I thought I should help him since he seems to lack modern amenities and probably has no idea what day or even what month it is anymore, but apparently, he is more responsible than I give him credit for...the punch line of his email goes like this:

"thanks for the reminder, but i did not need it. i have had feb. 11th written on my hand for the last week. i wrote an email to pa today. honduras has been good--we went to a cool church and met some wealthy hondurans with ktms. i will tell more later, for now i am hot, hungry, and i have to go to the bathroom. love you."

oh, that Woody and his direct style of communication, and details --- that really? do we really need to know?

-- luludilly

Big Scare Pt II

2009-04-11T21:21:00.002-05:00

About twelve hours later, the first help message came through. It actually shows the following: "Help. Entering situation with caution. If you receive no further messages, seek help. -Rich & Wood." The problem, of course, comes from failing to discuss what it means in advance. When do you seek help? When do you assume there will be no more messages? Also, when this button is pressed, the Spot tries sending the message every five minutes. So, our inboxes showed five "help" messages ending at 7:52 pm. Why did it stop? Was that a signal to seek the help?

Luckily for me, being in Ely I had no cell reception and was able to sleep through the night blissfully ignorant of the fear and panic spreading along the shore. The rest of the family: not quite so lucky.

Around 7 am on Saturday, I went into town and got the call from the patriarch. This is not good news. This is scary. Really scary. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming. The Spot did little but show us why we should be so afraid. There is no way to call and check, no one to drive by, no police for welfare checks, no...my little brother is deep in the jungle, thousands of miles from me and there is absolutely nothing that I can do to protect him. After all those years of guarding him on the school bus and keeping a hawk eye on the big kids in the gym, bailing him out of jail and talking him out of being evicted...there was nothing, nothing to do but wait.

Finally, at 11 am, Woody sends the following nonchalant, typical carefree and irritatingly casual about danger, email:

"hey guys--just checking in at this point to let you know that everything is good. we ended up on a bad road after dark last night--one of those things where we were in the middle and had to keep going, and turning around would have been just as long on just as bad a road. it was like driving on franks´ driveway (at its very worst) for 6 hours. on my map it showed the road as being secondary paved--and it also showed good-sized towns along the way. we are on our way towards san pedro sula, honduras, where we will try to buy 10w-50 synthetic oil for the bikes. they are getting close to needing a change. we also are going to need brake pads before too long here. we spent a couple days in la ceiba, on the coast of the Caribbean--sort of a dirty, untrustworthy town…i will write more soon, but i´ve got to get going here this morning. love you guys.

--wood

p.s. we pushed the ¨help¨ button last night because that is what it is there for...."

My brother...

At the time, I remember screaming, "hey guys?!" "just checking in?!" "i've got to get going here?!" What the efff?! What was he thinking the rest of us had been doing for the last 16 hours??? Eating bon bons and watching reality TV?

Luckily, his cohort was a little more responsive in addressing the significance of the event.

-- luludilly

The BIG Scare

2009-04-11T20:50:00.006-05:00

So far I've been trying to get everyone up to speed and cover the stories of four months on a motorcycle since it took me this long to start the Motorcycle Habit. Everything appears to have been sunshine and roses. This is not exactly true. In the beginning of February, we all experienced our first scare of the trip.

The boys are equipped with a device called the Spot. Essentially this is a GPS personal tracking device that was set up before they left. It directly emails the immediate family on a nearly daily basis. There are three options on the device. The guys push one of the buttons depending on the circumstances. One says "OK All is well on Bike adventure Love to all - Rich & Wood." Also in the message is the latitude and longitude link so you can tell where they are and look at the satellite photos and topography. We get these so often that I hardly read the message; I just click the link, seethe with jealousy and go back to working ten hours a day, inside, during our seven month long winter, wonder where I went wrong...but who is complaining. After all I am the oldest and I have been acting 30 for over 30 years.

Another button on the Spot is the "unknown/caution" button. At least, that is what we all anticipated and believed it to be when they first departed. The idea behind the button is that it means they do not what lies ahead and it has the potential to be dangerous. The third button is the 911 button. We do not get messages from the 911. That button triggers a direct call to the local search and rescue, embassy, etc. who calls the family later. It is not a thought we like to entertain. But back to this second button...

I was in Ely and it was a Friday. I got this message from my little brother that evening, sent at 7:55 in the morning:

"xxxxx, soon the pictures will be there. i'm in a rush this morning, but tell the parents that the spot may not be working as we are heading for the jungle and it may all be canopy, therefore no clear shot to the satellites. we have met yet another motorcycle traveler, this time from oregon, on his own. nelson is his name. we are heading into what is called la mosquitia, a region in honduras which is still undeveloped, and they say it is the last of its kind in latin america. nelson is coming with us. okay, gotta go, love you, bye.

wood"

We do not know La Mosquitia. We do not know Nelson. Imagine that this is the last message you get. At first read, it did not scare me too much, but I was on edge, something seemed troubling even if it was only the blackberry brandy in my purse...

-- luludilly

Honduras 2/4/9

2009-04-11T20:33:00.004-05:00

We only occasionally hear about the food and the beating the digestive tracts are taking. The boys did take a series of vaccines and I believe packed home remedies and necessary prescriptions but living on motorcycles has its downside, no matter what country you're in or what the water source is. I'll spare the details, but on the food, this comes from Woody in Guatemala:

"on the subject of food, it has been great. simple stuff--tortillas always, beans, rice, chicken, vegetables, fruit. it tastes similar everywhere we have been. good coffee is hard to find, surprisingly. and it is not cheap when you do. costs about the same as it does in minnesota, and you can only get it in a full-blown coffee shop. but it is delicious."

Along the way, as often happens, there have been struggles with traveling companions. At one point I got a message saying "and then there were two" -- after a break with another American. I look forward to hearing the story as it reminded me of a late night getaway I pulled myself once long ago...of course, that was with my best friend on the beaches of Tulum and the perpetrators were a trio of Greek jet setters/night club owners. Ahh, but that's another story for another time...for Woody it meant leaving the good people of Guatemala and crossing into Honduras:

"We crossed into honduras yesterday, so mom should be happy. we´re in copan ruinas today, leaving a litter later for the east coast and the city of la ceiba. from there, we may take a ferry to the island of utila, where brock is living. also, at the border yesterday, we met a couple from canada whom are moving here. they bought property outside of la ceiba, and although they won´t be there yet, they offered it (it is beach property) as a place for us to camp. for the third time and in the third country, we have met shre, from california, on a 650 suzuki v-strom. we will travel with him to la ceiba."

-- luludilly

Antigua 1/25/9

2009-04-11T18:54:00.001-05:00

At some point the boys realized communication in a native language was a superior quality. Woods used to speak Spanish increasingly well as he upped his tequila levels. Since motorcycles prohibit the consumption of alcohol, we all wondered how he'd get by. Wisely they met up with some local instructors to hone the skills they would need in the coming weeks and months. In the course of their travels, they have been reminded of home in the characters they meet.

"we met some minnesotans today. they are from st. paul, and he (the son) lives right near wm. mitchell. small world. we are going to go meet them for a beer later tonight. talking with them, i realized that i have completely forgotten that it is winter in the northland. he (matt) will actually be in grand marais in two weeks. crazy. we´ve been in antigua, guatemala for the past two nights, and plan on staying here for another week. we signed up for spanish language school today, beginning tomorrow and running until friday. 4 hours of school a day, one-on-one instruction. plus we will be living with a family. Total immersion. my spanish has already gotten much better, and i am hoping that this boost will help a lot. in total, it will cost 160 U.S. dollars for the school and the in-house, including 3 meals a day. it´s cheap. earlier this afternoon we headed out of antigua for a place called ´earth lodge´, which is only 20 minutes away, up the slope. 12 or so years ago an american and a canadian, brianna and drew, moved here and started this place. sounded pretty cool--treehouses, cabanas, camping, little restaurant....we checked it out, but decided against it. too many white people. last night we met dora. she owns(?) a little restaurant a few doors down from where we have been staying, with great, cheap food. tonight will be our third meal there--anyway, we had an hour long conversation/language lesson with her. excellent people, these guatemalans. our time here has far surpassed our time in mexico. many factors, of course, but it is wonderful here nonetheless."

-- luludilly

Good People of Guatemala 1/20/9

2009-04-11T18:45:00.006-05:00

I believe the story Wood tells here is one of the first, personal and welcoming interactions they had on their journey south of the border. He can probably add more later, but I know that their time at Lake Atitlan was particularly good and heartwarming. From Woody:

"so indeed, we are in guatemala....we arrived last night, in the dark (not on purpose), to a city called solola. i tell you xxxxxx, god's hand has placed us here. indeed, traveling in guatemala, or anywhere, at night is not advisable. basically, the roads we traveled were not the same roads on the gps, therefore, the mileage was not the same either. we arrived in solola not knowing where we could stay. it is an old city, reminding me of a european city--cobbled, narrow streets, lots of people. the buildings are not european, of course. we checked 3 hotels. none of them had a courtyard for our bikes and we cannot leave them on the streets. at the fourth hotel we found laura, the matriarch of a wonderful family. alejandro, her grandson, speaks english pretty well. freddy, her son, is a machinist. both are motorcycle enthusiasts. we spent our first night eating and sharing stories from the road. i knew the moment i met laura that we had landed somewhere special. today we woke up to see lake atitlan, which is perhaps 1000 meters below the city. flanked by 3 volcanoes, it is incredible. people say that it is the most beautiful lake in the world. around the lake there are several cities, some of which have schools where one can spend a week working on spanish. we are going to look into this. we spent the day with freddy (the father), and benjamin (his younger son), traveling down to the lake to swim, fishing with freddy's friend (which we are going to eat in a few minutes). it was good. tell mom that the people of guatemala are wonderful; they say that yes, it can be dangerous, but it is not like what we perceive it to be. freddy, actually freddy's dad, (whom i saw running today!) is building a house. "

-- luludilly

Approaching Guatemala 1/17/9

2009-04-11T18:40:00.003-05:00

Here is another note from Woody's earlier days of traveling: "We are quite a ways south now, almost on the Guatemalan border, in the town of Lacanja. It has been raining daily, off and on, for almost a week now. But all is going well despite. We haven’t been traveling too much in the rain, spending most of our time exploring. We spent 3 or 4 days at Palenque, and now in Lacanja, we are in a very small, very indigenous community. We are camping under a metal roof, on a concrete slab. Our host cooks meals for us. Our shower is the waterfall 50ft from our tent. This is Mayan land. The ancestors of these people built Palenque. They speak Spanish and Maya, which is what is spoken in the movie, Apocalypto. It often sounds angry. There is an American cyclist from California here as well. She is fluent, so has been able to help us a bit. We are planning on crossing into Guatemala on Monday, as long as it isn’t pouring rain."

-- luludilly

The Real Beginning

2009-04-09T10:41:00.005-05:00

it was indeed the 28th of december, and both rich and i were past being ready to leave. we put the bikes, fully loaded, onto ege's beautiful little motorcycle trailer and Douglas started driving us south. we decided to stop at Schultz's house, in Clear Lake Iowa, when we were an hour away. it was about 3 hours until dark. we arrived at the Schultz's and, after brief conversation, we began loading and putting on every single layer of clothing that we had. we left just after dark. it was 36 degrees. prior to departure, richard said to me, "you know, this is probably not one of the smartest things that we have ever done." i cannot count how many times he has said that to me throughout our lives. i am not sure if at the time, he was saying it about leaving on motorcycles in 36 degrees, or about the entire trip. within an hour the temperature had dropped to 26 degrees. the next 8 hours were as close to outerspace as i have ever been, and indeed, it was not the smartest thing that i have ever done. we made it into kansas city at 2:30 a.m., wired and confused. that was the beginning.

woodrowguthrie

Reaching Mexico 1/9/9

2009-04-08T22:21:00.002-05:00

I thought I would start by catching everyone up over the next week or so. Here are Woody's first comments from outside the U.S. border, nearly three months ago already:

we are somewhere southeast of the city of poza rica, camped right on the beach. this is the first internet cafe that we have been able to find. it has already been a grand adventure. the border crossing was surprisingly simple--we had to purchase a visa and that was all; no customs whatsoever. we still haven´t been stopped by the police, even though we see them all over the roads. the food has been delicious, and the leche de coco--coconut milk, is the best thing ever. my spanish is already getting better and i am able to hear it better as well. it is very fun to speak to people. our bikes do indeed draw a lot of attention; double-takes and stares we have become used to already. we have met some wonderful people in 3 days and i can only begin to imagine what else may be in store for us down the road. speaking of the roads--the condition has been pretty good for the most part, however there are some potholes which could swallow our bikes whole. the driving, on the other hand, is close to insane. no on follows any rules, they pass on hills, on corners, and in towns. they pass when there is oncoming traffic. it is a different kind of defensive driving. we are getting into the swing of it, being careful and smart. we drove through the city of tampico 2 days ago and that went from scary to fun as we quickly understood and followed the method. though i have never done it, i imagine short track racing to be similar.

-- luludilly

llllllearning curves

2009-04-08T21:35:00.007-05:00

I'm working on learning to boh-lahg oh so painfully slow...and apologize to everyone following along. This is a giant step for a girl like me. [image: Woody in North America days, on Eagle Mountain.]

-- luludilly

the old days

2009-04-08T20:52:00.004-05:00

Well, Woody is fine and safe but having operator difficulties with the intrepid Spot device -- technology could ruin the world. To keep us all in good spirits, I decided to share a story of days past. This dates back to December of 2003 when young Wood was foolish and naive. I was in school when I got a call from Woody, who had just experienced some civil injustice after sticking up for a friend in a bar fight, in his own words:

"The police were there, asked me what happened. Asked me to sit in the back of the police car so they could ask me questions. I waited for at least ten minutes, by my own free will, in the back of the car with no contact from any police officer. At this point I got upset because no one would talk to me. I banged on the window. Two cops got into the car and drove me to the
police station. I asked them why I was being taken to jail. They simply said, 'Because you were fighting and now you are not cooperating'...I also continually asked if I could make a phone call--to which they told me, 'It's not like the movies, you don't actually have the right to a phone call'...The guy at desk made some crack about my name--'Is your brother's name Pete Seeger?' Real fucking funny, asshole."

Oh, man I am laughing remembering this story (my response was even more ridiculous) -- yes, Woody sure has come a long way since then. And for the record, he defeated the city attorney and got all charges dropped, with merely a pocket constitution, the name of an old folk singer, and the will of a Norwegian monster.

-- luludilly

The Start

2009-04-07T23:30:00.011-05:00

Here it goes --- I finally got the blog running for Woodstock. It is time to start the blog of Woody's great adventures to Tierra del Fuego by KTM motorcycle. It began on Sunday, December 28, 2008, just two men and their bikes; the end date is unknown; the course is unknown; but the lessons are certain to last a lifetime.

He is on his own now, traveling somewhere into Panama, we hope, although suspiciously the Spot has not sent a signal since the third...today, I got my first Aerostich catalogue and realized that I am now officially a motorcycle junkie if not by my blood, then by my brother's.

This will serve as a simple and hopefully entertaining way of staying in touch with Woody, his progress south (and back north again), see photos and give him words of advice and support, remind him that the journey is worth the pain, but that nothing can ever surpass the North Shore for stoic beauty and quiet courage. Bless my little brother, the wandering soul with big dreams and the gumption to follow them.