Remember in the last post where we had to make a long day’s ride to Uyuni due to the lockdown? Well…. we were up early, packed up and said goodbye to the kids as they were loading a van to ride bicycles on the Bolivian road of death. We rode almost 5 blocks in light traffic when this warning came on my motorcycle….

Not good. I considered continuing on at the risk of damage or turning around. The decision was made for me when the engine suddenly quit running. I got to the side of the road and eventually ended up pushing the heavy bike down the sidewalk back to the hotel and into the parking garage. Deby went to the front desk and booked us for another night in the same room. Now what…

The modern BMW R1250GSA is one of the top of the line motorcycles made by BMW. As such, with all the electronic techno wizardry it’s highly computerized. For this reason I carry a diagnostic tool that can read fault codes and make certain corrective action. I always hope I never have to use it. In this case I’m pretty sure I knew the problem.. bad gas.

If you remember, we bought gas from a person at the hotel. He brought 15L to fill Deby’s bike right away but it took days of asking and persuading for him to get the 30L I needed for my bike. It finally arrived the day before we left in suspicious containers. The computer confirmed my suspicions.

Dr. Google helped me translate the error codes….

We had a pre-arranged tour of the Salar de Uyuni scheduled for the following day, 300 miles away. I called Marco, our intrepid friend, motorcycle rider, and tour guide in Sucre. What to do. Of course, he knew a guy who knew a guy in La Paz who was friends with the owner of the local BMW motorcycle shop. After a bunch of back and forth with phone calls and WhatsApp messaging we had a plan. We would leave both bikes at the hotel and Deby and I would take the overnight bus to Uyuni where we would arrive bleary eyed at 5:30AM, plenty early for our 10:00 departure on a three day Jeep tour of The Salar (technically, a Toyota Land Cruiser). Meanwhile the children would travel to Uyuni via a 1 hour flight. Hmmm, what’s wrong with that picture?

Somehow during that time the BMW dealer would arrive at the hotel and pick up my bike and take it to the shop.

For the next 10 days we were tourists without motorcycles (mostly). Since this is a blog about motorcycle riding, I’ll skip most of the details but show just a few pictures.

“The Salar,” the largest salt flat in the world was flooded so that limited our excursion but provided great photo opportunities.

We did get to visit the Dakar salt sculpture erected in 2014 in honor of the famous Dakar Rally.

Sunset on the Salar.

Then three days exploring the surrounding terrain.

We stopped at an area with steaming geysers as the sun was setting. The dark clouds against the steam made for dramatic photographs.

Here’s one of Lindsey and Jon.

The next day we found out those clouds weren’t rain clouds but snow! Our guide said he never in his 12 years saw snow in the area.

After the tour we did have some motorcycle fun. Our guide from Sucre, Marco, rode his motorcycle to Uyuni and joined Weston, Jon and me on a day long dirt bike ride through the surrounding mountains. Here is Marco with Robin, an ex-pat Brit who runs the motorcycle guide service.

Marco would be with us for most of the rest of our time in Bolivia, we had a blast.

We were glad to find ourselves on some classic Honda XR400’s.

Robin took us on a fun day ride that was just enough of challenge and scenic beauty in the mountains.

We stopped for lunch at a hot spring in a small village. When we arrived there was a local Amara woman sitting naked in the hot spring washing out some clothes. We were not sure what to do but our guide Robin said not to worry, usually there are two or three sitting in there and they don’t mind the company! Soon everyone was stripping down next to the bikes putting on swim trunks. Except me since I forgot mine, I choose to keep on my quick dry boxers. Probably, it didn’t matter anyhow. When we climbed in the Amara woman stepped out with a friendly smile and not much modesty and let us have our time. While down to our necks in hot water Robin produced a bag of ham and cheese sandwiches to pass around.

Some threatening weather was getting close so we took a little bit of a faster dirt road back, fast riding, great scenery good friends (and family).

I’m skimming a lot of the other details here. Like getting back to the hotel after a late dinner following the motorcycle ride. The driver of the cab got lost in the rain, we circled a nearby town on increasingly muddy roads and almost got stuck more than a few times. It took nearly 2 hours to go 20KM to the hotel and we arrived just before midnight.

The next part of the tour with Marco started in Sucre, one of my favorite cities. Marco rode his motorcycle while we navigated the public transportation system for the day long journey. The last section was a three hour van ride with a crazy driver who was totally jacked up on coca leaves and some type of clear white liquid. The curvy mountain road between Potosi and Sucre is known for deadly collisions, our driver did not instill much confidence as he squealed his tires around the mountain curves and made risky passing decisions as we jostled about in the passenger seats. Whew, we made it but wow… nobody snoozed during that ride.

Again, I’ll summarize here. Here is a photo of a street in Sucre, another place called “the white city.”

We ate dinner at a restaurant with a balcony, I took this picture. A llama walking down the street? All normal….

We left the next day for a three day exploration of the “Route of Che” Here is one of me and our guide Indiana Jones Marco.

We drove his Land Cruiser and a rented Hilux Toyota down some nearly impossible 4X4 roads to a trailhead that led to this waterfall. I left a sticker on the sign pole.

Worth the hike for a cool waterfall.

So here is a coincidence… back in 2017 when Deby and I were here we met Aude and her friend Jacque from France. We rode together for three days in rain and mud to La Higuera where Aude and her ex run a small ecolodge. You can read about that adventure in my blog archive here: https://advdonnh.com/chasing-che-in-the-mud/

Here is a picture of Aude and Deby from 2017.

When we arrived for the night at del Telegrafista to our surprise Aude was back after having moved away for most of the past 7 years and her friend Jacque just happened to be visiting from France for a few weeks. Ha, we had a great time catching up.

Aude prepared a spectacular meal for us and a few other guests from Germany and Austria.

It was one of the best meals of our trip. I’m amazed at what she was able to do with a small kitchen and limited supplies in the city of 47 people. The evening was spent with old and new friends and as the wine and beer flowed the conversations grew animated in equal parts German, French, Spanish and English. A true multicultural experience. We concluded the evening around a roaring fire trading more travel stories, both true and mostly true.

Just one more tie to the past….Here is a picture I took in 2017 on the muddy road to La Higuera.

This time we stopped at the same place under better weather conditions for a family picture.

All too soon our time with the family and Marco was coming to an end. Marco needed to head off to another Salar tour, this time on UTVs where he would be a co-pilot. The rest of us flew back to the capital city of La Paz where Deby and I hoped to be able to get back on the road and the rest would fly home to their jobs and responsibilities.

At breakfast on our last day in Sucre a woman walked past us and did a double take. Hey, do you remember me? I looked at her with an I’m not sure look and she said, “you were on the motorcycles on a barge, right?” Ha, of course! She was the woman from Chicago who was born in Bolivia who told me Bolivia was not really setup of tourists. Now, almost three weeks later we meet on our last day in the country. So, maybe she was right, or maybe the random chaos is what make Bolivia a fun place to visit.

Of course, I have to give a big thank you to Marco at “Soy Sucre” https://www.soysucre.info/ our fearless guide and fixer. He made made it easier to navigate a country not really setup of tourists. He helped us setup the whole tour for six people and solved countless logistical problems including getting my bike fixed. If you ever find yourself in Bolivia I wholeheartedly recommend contacting Marco.

Marco met us at the hotel to say good bye and made sure we had our hotel and transportation taken care of. Nice. After the chaotic bus rides in the past few weeks we were all glad for the one hour flight from Sucre to La Paz, I took one picture….

Get well soon??? How about when we safely land!

Back on the road

Back in La Paz the kids continued their long series of flights home and Deby and I returned to  the Madero Hotel & Suites. Waiting for me was a message from the BMW dealer, my motorcycle was ready! Wow! I grabbed my helmet and hailed a cab for a 30 minute ride to the south part of town. The cab driver knew a short cut that went through a dozen small neighborhoods. We had an animated conversation with my broken Spanish and ended as near best friends. The BMW dealer was cool and efficient and soon had my newly washed motorcycle brought to the service area. They explained that after a thorough diagnostic evaluation I had water in my gas. Ok, that sounds about right. They drained the tank and cleaned the injectors and got it working. I asked how much gas they put in… only about 1/2 liter. Ummm, can I get more??? They explained it was hard because I was a foreigner. Really? I didn’t know! Finally, they said I could follow their mechanic on his motorcycle to the local gas station where I could fill up using his credentials.  Ok, works for me. We rode together for a few blocks in traffic and at the gas station a cute attendant seemed glad to see the young mechanic and greeted him with a big smile. After some negotiations and looking around for cops she started adding fuel to my tank. At the end I paid for the gas and then the mechanic said, “now 10 for the girl” which I gladly gave her and then slipped 10 to the mechanic. I’m slow to catch on, but I was starting to see how this worked. Total price to BMW for pickup and repair? $174USD. Wow, that would easily be almost $1,000 in the US.

It was late in the day when I returned so we had the room booked for one more night and were excited to finally get going the next day.

We were up early hoping to beat just some of the traffic. My 30L tank was full with what was probably ok Bolivian gas. Deby had a full 15L of fuel from a container purchased on the black market. How far would we get this time? Oh, would Deby’s bike even start? We were at 12,500 feet in elevation well above the elevation where her bike had problems in the past. In addition, her bike had been sitting for nearly two weeks. So, before even loading her luggage I attempted to start the bike anticipating I would have to push it out of the garage and give it a “bump” start. It started!

Ha! Don’t turn it off, I yelled and we hurriedly loaded our gear and started our escape from La Paz. Traffic was the normal chaos, but the bikes seemed to be running ok as we navigated through town. I winced as we passed the spot where mine quit running weeks before and we kept going. Traffic was brutal, seriously bad. Bumper to bumper with absolutely no regard for lane markings or traffic signals.  Remember the USPS commercial that said “If it fits it ships?” The motto in La Paz is “If it fits you slip” into the opening. It took us an hour to go 20 miles to the outskirts of town. Finally we were on an open highway heading south. But where?

Marco suggested the closest border crossing was into Chile, 187 miles southwest. My motorcycle would be able to make it with my 300 mile range but that was on the edge for Deby’s smaller tank. Ok, could we get gas at the border? I checked Google maps for the border crossing…. hmmm, elevation 15,500 feet and nothing for miles around. I mean nothing!

We would have to attempt to purchase gas along the way. With positive expectations, I made a reservation at the small town of Putre, Chile, 30 miles into Chile. Would they have gas? A quick search of Google told me no.

Seventy five miles into our trip was came to the small town of Patacamaya where we passed what looked like a respectable(?) roadside stand selling gas by the jug. I could buy 10L for 60 Bolivianos, about $8 USD. By some coincidence that was enough to top off Deby’s tank and nearly fill mine. That would have to do.

Once we turned off the main highway towards Chile there was nothing… I mean nothing.

We were in the high planes, over 12,000 feet in thin air the whole time. With the additional 10L of fuel we could make the border and a little further. We would see. In mid afternoon we were hungry and needed a break and came to this small grouping of buildings.

There was a small tienda that only sold snacks so we bought a pack of cookies. Deby searched for a bano but no, nothing. We rode to the other end of the line of buildings where there was a sign for a public bano. Even better, it looked like a restaurant. Deby went in and paid her 1 Boliviano to use the bathroom which ended up being a literal hole in the ground with a half curtain for a door. When she asked if they were serving food the Amara indigenous woman flatly said no. She came out and recommended against me using the excuse for a bathroom. I had to go but decided I could ride a little and use the bano del Inca’s as I’ve been told it’s called (along side the road).

Hungry, tired, worried about the weather, gas and our general situation, we stood around eating our stale cookies and thinking about moving on when a little boy about 8 years old came over to admire the motorcycles. In a universal gesture of kindness we gave him some stickers, I shared a couple of cookies and encouraged him to sit on my motorcycle. He was all grins and you could tell he was very excited about being on such a huge motorcycle. About this time his mother came out, the same woman who said there was no food, and produced a cell phone to take pictures. This went on for a few minutes before he ran inside and we started once again, to get ready to leave.

We were about to get on the bikes when the woman came out with a plate of food for us weary travelers! Yum! Ok, it was Llama and potatoes but wow was it good!

No forks, napkins, or even a table inside, but we didn’t care. We found a couple of folding chairs and shared a great lunch.

Back on the road we headed West into the dark clouds. We were climbing in elevation from 12,000 feet towards 15,500 feet at the border and the clouds were getting lower by the mile. When we arrived at the border the dark clouds opened up and we had just enough time to get into the immigration office as huge booms of thunder rattled the buildings and lightning was striking the surrounding hills. We were almost the only people there but the process still took almost two hours. Some of that delay was because the storm caused the internet to go down and we were told we would have to wait. Of course….

With perfect timing, once we were free to continue the rain stopped and there were glimpses of blue sky. Welcome to Chile.

By WeHaKa – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=120303580

We arrived at the small town of Putre and checked into the Terrace Lodge a modest hotel that didn’t really live up to it’s name implying a lodge or anything to do with terraces. The only thing lodge-ish was the price. Again, welcome to Chile. Deby took a picture of our room. Nope they didn’t have a room with a double bed. Isn’t that what I booked? We took what we could get.

We walked around town and verified there was no gasoline for sale. The next morning, still above 12,000 feet in elevation Deby’s bike started. Hmmm, is that problem behind us? Her motorcycle computer said she had 80 miles of range, Google maps said it was 67 miles to the next gas in the small town of San Miguel de Azapa at a place called… Combustible Jerry. Really? You just can’t make this up. Is that even a place?

It didn’t matter, we were on our way. The sky was clear and we had perfect temperatures for riding, near 70 degrees. The northern part of Chile is mostly vacant vast sections of bare hills and twisty roads. We were finally having fun. If we could just make it to Combustible Jerry’s oasis.

Deby’s reserve light came on shortly after leaving Putre and the gas gauge slowly dipped to zero. The onboard computer counted down towards zero and was in the single digits when we finally arrived at the non-descript two pump gas station that is the closest to the Bolivian remote border. We made it! This would be the first time filling Deby’s bike from an actual fuel pump since Peru, nearly a month ago.

Oddly enough, the staff at the gas station was excited to see us and amazed about our journey and the fact that we actually made it through Bolivia. Another car pulled up and two guys got out and were equally excited about our bikes and getting through their neighboring country. They shook our hands and declared that Chile has the best gasoline anywhere! Awesome. We topped off both bikes and filled up our spare gallon tank for good measure. Whoo hooo, full tanks, a beautiful day and great roads. We were on our way.

We decided to go to the port city of Iquique and booked two days at a luxury resort high rise hotel on the beach 197 miles away. Within 50 miles we dropped down to 2,000 feet above sea level. We haven’t been that low in elevation in well over a month and and if felt fantastic to be able to breath in deep breaths and soak up the oxygen. My stuffy sinuses started to clear and we perked up with newfound energy from our pumped up red blood cells.

The riding was fantastic on wide open roads through the northern desert. Nobody was on the road but us.

And wow, the power! My motorcycle had actual good gas, not the crappy stuff from Peru that was mostly alcohol or the unknown bucket gas from Bolivia. That and the lower elevations and it felt like a race bike. I had back all of my 136 horsepower at my disposal. Deby was feeling it as well and with renewed spirits and power we wicked up the throttles and cruised along at 85 mph most of the way.

As we slowly descended to sea level there was a small marine layer welcoming us but we didn’t care. About 130 miles into our 200 mile journey Deby announced her gas light came on. Dang. Travelling at 85mph is exhilarating but at the cost of poor fuel mileage. My mental math said we wouldn’t make it. Garmin and Google agreed, there was nowhere to purchase gasoline on the deserted stretch of fun highway.

For the first time on the trip I used my spare gallon of fuel and dumped it into Deby’s bike. We rolled down the hill into Iquique with her gas light back on and a few miles to go on the computer and checked into the swanky Hotel Terrado Suites Hotel

Ahhhh, now this is Adventure Motorcycle Travel!

Iquique is a nicely organized clean modern city on the south Pacific ocean that is backed by high mountains that look like giant sand dunes. Probably because they were at one time. The weather was perfect and the hotel had one of the best restaurants we’ve had on this trip.

We should stay longer right??? Nope. When I asked about extending our stay the staff said they were booked. Bummer. So where next? We decided to climb back into the Andes mountains to San Pedro de Atacama. A small town on the border with Argentina. From there into Argentina. Guess what…. from my online research, Argentina continues to have problems with fuel shortages and sparce opportunities for gas. Oh, not to mention the currency crisis and the necessity to carry large piles of Argentinean Pesos because of their low value due to inflation. Now, because of unrest because of the recent presidential election and runaway inflation there are protests and a huge outbreak of crime against tourists. Great. Today I received a notice from our next hotel warning about an uptick in thefts and to be extra cautious with our belongings.

I suppose I should buy a bigger spare gas can but then I would have to worry about someone stealing it!

So… more to come!

Thanks for following,

Donn and Deby