Amidst this noisy mayhem I’m trying to reflect on the past days escapades. This trip is described as one of the most challenging motorcycling adventures in the world and I am privileged to have ridden some of the most demanding sections. It’s a journey too that has let me experience some spectacular scenery and land formations that just can’t be appreciated or believed from photographs or film.

The group of riders were totally diverse in their backgrounds , from multi-millionaires with highly equipped bikes through to those using life savings for a one off trip of a lifetime, on bikes that were barely roadworthy let alone fit for off-road!. There were husband and wife teams, father and son and father and daughter units all adding to the group dynamics. Two young professional guys had both packed in well paid city jobs to undertake this adventure. Each has a different reason for being here, and each will come away much richer in knowledge and experience.  One thing for sure is that you can’t stereotype a biker/motorcyclist /adventurer!

The riding skills, like the personalities, of the individuals were completely varied.  One guy, John, who was 64, was amazing at off road riding having come from a motocross background.  In the small time I was with the group I also noticed a big change in the confidence of the riders and how much they were learning and willing to teach each other.

Extreme thoughts

The trip encountered many extremes such as dry barren deserts and white snow covered mountains, which gave life to lush vegetation and mountain lakes.  Bright red and orange mountains merged into flat grey gravel tracks.  The temperatures ranged from 27 degrees to -8.  Throughout a single day many changes of clothing took place.  Accommodation spanned everything from camping on desolate waste land with no amenities through to smart, well appointed hotels and restaurants!

We passed from Argentina to Bolivia to Chile, then back to Bolivia with each country offering up different cultures, currencies, time zones, poverty and wealth.

The challenges of the trip presented themselves in a number of ways. There was the physical aspect of riding for up to 12 hours on some of the challenging piste sections, overcoming injuries from “offs,” coping with little sleep, dealing with extremes in altitudes and temperature and the language barriers. All of these have a knock on effect with your mental well being and attitude!

The long straight flat roads allowed time for personal reflection on work, relationships, aspirations, and problems!  Apart from wind noise there is only you inside your helmet so you enjoy the rarity of losing outside interference.

Motorcycling is a great way to travel and see these vast continents. You see so much more than you would in a car, bus or train and your senses are alive to the different smells, noises and the changing temperatures around you.  The limited carrying capacity of your bike ensures only the basic essentials are needed and it becomes very evident how the western world is cosseted with gadgets and gizmos!

A self discipline and organisational routine kicks in very quickly, from packing clothes, pitching tents, bike maintenance, currency requirements and basic personal hygiene!

Probably the least obvious benefit of biking on a trip like this is how quickly the group develops camaraderie and friendships.  Whilst riding the bike is a lonely and personal experience the help and support offered amongst the group, based on the common passion of motorcycling, is very evident and heartening.

Thank-you and goodnight

Finally I’d like to thank all the riders who made me very welcome on the trip and helped me along the way.  Thanks to Nick and Caroline for making the trip possible and ensuring that everyone was safe and for Jim and Erich for keeping bikes going that should perhaps be in a skip!  Thanks to Carole Nash for allowing me the time to engage in this fantastic experience and to my lovely wife and family for their love, support and concern in allowing me to indulge myself!

We had the usual morning briefing and set off around 8am to cross the Andes again and re-enter Bolivia.  The border control was the usual farcical, disorganised event that we had now experienced on several occasions.  Nick is truly a sight to behold when dealing with officialdom and he managed to use his silver tongue on both the officials and other people waiting to cross the border and reduced our queuing time by about two hours!

Yet again the day presented us with some dramatic landscapes as we passed active volcanoes with their shadows cast over lakes where flamingos could be seen walking.  Despite the glorious sunshine we had to layer up on clothing as once again we climbed would up to altitude.

Nick and I spent most of the day riding together, stopping occasionally to do some more filming. As we approached La Paz we got to see the poverty that exists in Bolivia, something that we would get to understand more of later.

During the past week we had seen very few other motorcycles on the routes, however today we were to see large numbers of Harley-Davidson’s, many sporting what’s often viewed as the stereotypical Hells-Angels look with their ‘bitches’ on the back!  It turned out there was a Harley convention with large numbers expected for fun, music, food etc.  It was interesting to see the contrast in their appearance versus ours. We and our bikes were covered in mud, many guys had grown beards and the bikes were laden with panniers, tyres, petrol cans and various bits held together with tape and string!  In contrast the Harleys were immaculate as were the riders and we often saw them cleaning the bikes at the gas station to remove some fine layer of dust that, God forbid, may have landed on their chrome or paint work!

We didn’t predict a riot

We approached La Paz as a group as requested by Nick who had warned us that finding the hotel would be difficult, particularly given the dense population and traffic. We passed through an Army station and then within a few miles entered the main highway to La Paz. It didn’t really surprise me when I saw the long queue of lorries parked up one in front of the other and we passed them on the inside for what must have been a mile or so.  But as we filtered our way through, we started to notice groups of people scurrying around waving and gesturing to us. Some were waving us on, others pointing to turn back.  We passed the first lorry which had been stopped by bricks, logs and burning tyres being placed across the road and weaved our way through making slow progress. It suddenly became evident this wasn’t right.  We saw a burned out motorcycle and then what looked like dead bodies lying on the floor or hanging by the necks from stanchion poles.  We also caught sight of the severed heads of horses/lama/donkeys lying on the floor.  We had now reached a definite divide. Our way forward had been blocked and several hundred people surrounded us on high banks.  Nick started dialogue to show we wanted to pass but was quickly gestured at to turn back; I was right behind him with two other riders.  Suddenly the crowd were shouting for us to go back and we saw a crazed looking man swinging a large rock in a sling a moving towards Nick. Rocks started being hurled in our direction and so we quickly signalled to show our retreat.

Stuck with seemingly no way forward we noticed some dust in distance and could see some vehicles passing across some dirt land. We quickly followed and made good use of the off road skills that we had acquired during the week.  We then saw a group of the Harley riders doing the same thing.  We followed them until we could see a way back into La Paz in the distance but by now the crowd had cottoned onto what we were doing and started to form a large group where we wanted to exit.  Nick shouted “Go! Go!” so we sped off following the Harley riders who knew the route.  We had to cross a dirty; water and mud filled ditch about two metres wide by a half metre deep.  Despite being alarmed at what was happening we did chuckle to ourselves as we watched the immaculate Harleys enter the mud bath!

When we reached a point of safety we grouped together with the Harleys, had a good bonding session and thanked them for their help.  In the time it took me to remove my helmet Ian, the Aussie, had cracked open a beer!  Nick had taken his camera out and was trying to capture the excitement atmosphere of the moment, when he asked Ian for his thoughts on the event – in true Aussie fashion he responded by saying “Well that wasn’t in the brochure!”

Bolivian blues and twos

The next half hour was just brilliant fun!  We spotted a group of riot squad police, a lead armoured vehicle with a number of police on top being escorted by about 25 guards on trial bikes, each with gun toting guards riding pillion.  Nick gestured them for directions to our hotel and in a move only he could pull off  ended up having travelling at high speed with our own armoured escort.  We went through red lights, across junctions whilst traffic police stopped other traffic. It was fantastic!  We dropped off the escort and found our way to the hotel.  It was chaos, the city was grid locked but we didn’t care, we went up one way streets, and when we came to stops Nick would gesture the guards, who were now at every junction, and they would wave us on to keep us moving!  We arrived out our hotel absolutely buzzing. We didn’t check in for some time but instead took over the hotel foyer and drank several beers, whilst the excellent staff gave us some lovely cakes and savouries.

The evening concluded with a group dinner, where there was a great atmosphere thanks to the riders really beginning to bond with each other. The stories, humour and banter flowed!

Before retiring to bed, Nick briefed us on the possibility of the riots continuing tomorrow.  To remain in La Paz would cause a nightmare in terms of the itinerary and hotel logistics but if the city was in gridlock and violence then there may be no choice.  It was agreed the riders would set off as normal in the morning, hopefully before the protesters had got out of bed and re-gathered.

Meanwhile we discovered that the events we’d been caught up in that day had hit the front page of the BBC News website.

We hit Route 5 – the famous Pan American Highway, – and travelled through the vast Atacama desert, the world’s driest and second largest desert.  Some parts have not received any rain for over 100 years and the last rainfall in this region was 22 years ago.  Quite different to Manchester then! The bizarre thing is that beyond the desert you can see the snow capped mountains of the Andes!

We arrived at Putres where the group was split into various hotels/hostels.  After two days wild camping the accommodation felt like five star luxury.  We took the opportunity to do some washing and to sample some decent food, a nice change from the gas station supplied junk.

Nick took the opportunity to film some riders asking for their feedback on the day’s journey. The response was unanimous as everyone said this had been the best biking day of their lives. With a wry smile Nick reminded them that they had said that about the previous day and the day before!

When I returned to the tent Caroline was looking after John, who was struggling to breath and needed medication.  I have never wanted the daylight and morning to arrive so much.  If there was ever any compensation it was the fact that we had camped at 5,000 metres on the Andes and the stars in the sky were absolutely amazing. Because we were so high it was like being at the end of the world and we had a clear unobstructed view of millions of stars.

We had breakfast in a nearby hostel and then left for Calama, approximately 350 kilometres (220 miles) away.  There was circa 240 km (150 miles) of piste to cover, mainly corrugations and then hard sand, eventually leading to tarmac.  Whilst easy compared to previous piste this section still needed concentration, as being downhill and fast it was easy to hit soft sand ruts. We only had one off on this section and both rider and bike were fine.  But by comparison this section was uninteresting and we were all relieved to hit tarmac.

The following section was long and desolate and unfortunately I ran out of petrol with 30 miles to go before we hit civilisation.  I took the opportunity to sit in the sunshine and for the first time in over 12 hours eventually started to get warm. Nick was to be the first rider on the scene and topped me up with some petrol to get me to gas station.

Fuel play

We were now in Chile and Calama was the first sign of life we had seen in over two days.  We filled up with gas and several riders changed tyres and undertook some basic maintenance. We all fuelled up and suddenly realised that several of the riders, including Nick, had been ripped off by the young petrol attendant.   We were treated to a Nick Sanders show of a kind I have never seen before and he laid into the guy with some wonderful English vernacular followed up by some choice Spanish. It worked – he got his money back!!

We rode for another few hours and stopped at some truckers/control point and pitched tents on some gravel waste area.  We were all very tired from lack of sleep and another long day’s riding, but we had dropped 4000 meters, so had a temporary reprieve from the effects of altitude.  We used this to best advantage and got stuck into some basic Chilean food washed down with plenty of cheap, but very quaffable wine! We were in good spirits and there was plenty of banter before the wine induced some short lived sleep – the truckers started firing up their engines around 5am!

Caroline had briefed us in the morning about the effects of altitude as we would be travelling up to approx 4500 metres (1,500 feet) above sea level. We had all been tested for our reaction to lack of oxygen and Caroline had several medical concoctions on hand should we start to suffer any of the symptoms.

We set off at 8am for a couple of hours riding to Villazon at the Argentina/Bolivia border.  As we climbed up the mountains the air started to thin and the temperature dropped dramatically despite the glorious sunshine.  We arrived at the fuel station and layered up the clothing, the wind chill factor having made it bitterly cold riding.

We spent the next three hours at the border waiting to clear immigration control – what an absolute farce. Sadly this delay was going to prove costly and later cause some serious issues.

Concentration problem

Today was the first time we had ridden in large groups. This was necessary as the road to Uyuni contained several unsigned forks, so the idea was to have a lead rider/guide with the support vehicle following at the rear.  This stretch of piste was extremely challenging, a mixture of deep drifting sand, corrugations, mud rivers and loose gravel and rocks.  The majority of the section involved ascent and descent through the mountains tracks, with sharp hairpins and sheer drops off the mountain side if you get it wrong!

For the next eight hours my heart was to be in my mouth as each mile presented different challenges and hazards.  The large group soon reduced to groups of three or four and the distance between them grew considerably as incident after incident took place.  I was making good progress and my confidence was slowly building, I had passed a number of riders and was starting to feel a bit more relaxed.  I then had a couple of near misses where the front wheel went from under me as I entered two hairpin bends.  I hated the loose gravel with a passion. Fortunately I rescued both of them and stayed on the bike.  But within 10 minutes I found myself heading off towards the edge of the mountain. I had lost concentration, missed the correct line to take the corner on a downhill stretch of loose gravel.  In a panic I did the worst thing possible and stamped on the rear brake and froze as I skidded out of control towards the edge.  It took a moment of rational thinking and the realisation of what was about to happen for me to lift off the brake and get some grip and steerage back. I missed the edge by half of a metre!  My mouth was as dry as the sand I was riding on, my heart was pumping out of my body, but I was still upright and alive!

I eventually saw a town in the distance but the feeling of euphoria quickly evaporated when I realised this was not the finish post – we had another 130 kilometres (80 miles) to go.  A few hours later I’d had enough. It was getting dark and there was no way I wanted to be on these corrugations for any longer than necessary.  I picked up the courage to open the throttle, to effectively float across the corrugations, and nailed the last 30 odd kilometres (20 miles).

Counting the cost

With three other riders I pulled up at the hotel just after 8pm, the first to arrive. We had ridden for 12 hours, the last eight virtually nonstop.  A few hours later other riders started to come in and then it became apparent all was not well.  There had been a number of “offs” with several riders suffering injuries. Fortunately there were no breakages, mainly bruised ribs and badly sprained ankles.  The low point of the evening was hearing that Danny and his wife Becky had suffered a high speed off with quite a bit of damage to the bike. Worse, much worse, Danny’s father Brian had been repairing a puncture and upon packing his luggage a bungee cord had sprung back and hit him in the eye.  They were still 30 miles away and it was now pitch black with some very difficult terrain yet to complete.  Danny had to leave Becky with the bike whilst he brought Brian back to the hotel where Caroline attended to him. There was blood everywhere and as I write this it looks like he may lose his sight.  He’s being transported to a specialist hospital for further treatment but this will involve a 13 hour drive on piste.  Wishing you a full recovery Brian.

To add to the drama we had not heard from the support vehicle which was needed to bring back Becky and the damaged bikes.  It turned out that the trailer chassis had snapped in two and ended up in a ditch.  Jim our support driver and mechanic somehow managed to drag the trailer out of the ditch and improvise a repair.  He had also lost the support of Erich our guide who had to ride back another bike after the rider had suffered an injury. Danny and Caz did some heroic return rides in the pitch black to bring back stranded riders.

Before we knew any of the above we’d already had our own little incident in the hotel.  Whilst eating dinner, Ian, a lovely Aussie guy, just fainted and fell off the chair smacking his head on the stone floor.  He had come off his bike during the day and banged his head as well as bruising his ribs, so a further blow to the head was the last thing he needed. Thankfully he turned out to be OK.

It was probably close to midnight before we finally had all riders and vehicles back to the hotel. I don’t think many of us had realised just how remote we were from any form of medical help. Bolivia is probably the poorest area of South America and there is just nothing around for miles, and any form of travel is over rough terrain.  There are no emergency services of any description to call upon.  Likewise with the bikes you just can’t get any spares so anything other than superficial damage puts an end to the trip!  These guys have got another seven weeks of riding serious mileage so they really need to look after themselves and their bikes!

This morning was very much like a doctor’s surgery with Caroline treating the walking wounded!  Jim the mechanic is being surrounded by riders looking for assistance for repairs and the hotel car park looks like a breakers yard!

Down and out on the town

We had a walk around the small town at lunch time which was quite depressing. These people just exist, that’s all.  The main form of employment is metal ore mining, outside of that the country relies on grants from other countries.  Money is unfortunately being channelled towards drugs and all the associated vices that go with it.  There is virtually no sense of order or responsibility.  We had a brief conversation with the hotel owner who pointed out the police car just passing by with no registration plates on it – the immediately following cars were the same.  MOT tests here and in Argentina are voluntary, so you can imagine the state of the vehicles on the road. Many cars pass in the dark with just one headlight working and no other lights at all.  The vast majority of vehicles are all over 20 years old.  Bumpers, doors, exhausts boot lids are secured with rope and pieces of string.  We even saw one vehicle with the bonnet lid flipped up covering the windscreen with the driver looking through the gap at the bottom whilst driving through the town.  Children are quite often seen sat on the laps of the driver or placed in baskets on top of large trucks!  This blatant lawlessness is quite perverse when compared to the bureaucratic jobsworth border patrols.

Tomorrow is another challenging day with several hundred miles of piste.  We will be wild camping so need to make the best of the hotel tonight.  Please note a Bolivan hotel is not quite the same as a UK one!!

It requires a completely different skill set to tarmac riding as the bike is much more lively and prone to wobbles, slides and, most commonly, the front end sliding from under you. Apart from being physically demanding it’s also much more mentally draining. To ride piste competently means doing everything against what the brain tells you to. When hitting soft sand the bike tends to wobble violently and instinct says grab the brakes and slow down but this will inevitably lead to a spill. The correct action is to open the throttle and increase speed.  I was aware there were some seriously good off road riders within the group and the fact they had been riding their bikes for two weeks and I for only a day added to my fears and trepidation!

We travelled through some spectacular scenery with the rocky mountains glowing orange and red from the brilliant sunshine and the off road section was fantastic , thankfully not too difficult comprising mainly compacted hard red sand.  We left the piste section and had another amazing hour of fast decent down long winding roads and whilst the surfaces were good there were frequent rock falls that waited for us around the corners!  We stopped for some coffee and as each of the riders took their helmets off the grins were like Cheshire cats.

No thank you for the music

After seven hours riding we arrived in Cafayate, pitched our tents and headed off in to the square.  It’s quite a quaint little town and fairly lively and vibrant given it’s in the middle of nowhere.  We had some fantastic steaks and too much wine.  When food and drink is this cheap it seems rude not to!!

Come bedtime I lay on the hard ground hoping the wine would take away the discomfort. It was no matter as I was woken just a few hours later by the sound of thumping music. I listened for the next four hours and, deciding that sleep wasn’t going to happen set to work writing this blog. At 5.30am the music finally stopped!

This was not the perfect preparation for the 350 kilometre (219 mile) journey to Ticara.  After very little sleep I was grateful for an easy tarmac day and we took our time so we could take in some more scenery. It’s very easy to become complacent about the surroundings and it’s not practical to keep stopping for photos, so I’m going to be relying on other people to provide some shots.  Some of the guys have helmet mounted cameras that automatically take frames every 20 seconds or so hopefully they will have all the action covered for posterity.

Tomorrow is to be the most challenging day of the trip so far as Nick reckons the route we are taking is ranked among the top five in the world.  I was grateful then that we checked into a decent hotel and I looked forward to a good night’s sleep.

I sent a text to Nick who was due to pick me up from the airport who replied with a change of plan.  I was to now get a taxi to a hotel and meet him and Dr Caroline (Nick’s partner) there. The good news was my bike would be there, so I didn’t have to go pillion for the day!

And so I was reunited with the Yamaha 660 XT, the same bike I had ridden five years ago when I joined Nick to ride across Africa to Timbuktu – yes there is such a place!  After loading up the panniers with my gear we finally set off at about 1.30 local time.

We left Mendoza and set off for San Juan 357 miles away.  Within two minutes I nearly rear ended Nick’s bike, discovering at the first junction that the front brake was next to useless. This instantly set me on edge as most braking on a bike, with some obvious exceptions, is done with the front brake!

We left the city traffic and eventually hit Route 40. The roads were long and straight with little or no vegetation.  We stopped for fuel, a ritual which becomes very much a part of the trip. It’s a bit like being on a pub crawl in that every time you see one you have to call in!  Because there’s no guarantee that fuel will be available it really is essential to fill up at every opportunity.  Thankfully fuel is cheap here, only £7 to fill the tank compared to three times the price at home. This is good as we’ll be filling up four to five times daily.

Singing and winning

We’d done 250 miles and I had been singing and shouting to myself to stay alert so I loaded up with coffee and Red Bull before we went off again.  At last we hit some spectacular scenery and the roads changed from endless straights to Monte Carlo hairpin bends through bright orange and red Grand Canyon Style Mountains. Amazing. This is what biking is all about.  We stopped and took some pictures and Nick filmed some footage for his next DVD.

Time was moving on and it was now beginning to get dark and the roads had become long and straight again. This was good in one respect as we could increase the pace, but poor in terms of helping maintain concentration.  As daylight left us I zoned into Nick’s rear light, which I kept about 100 metres in front of me.  He was to be my shepherd for the next two hours.  It is so important to stay alert on these roads.  For the majority of the time we are cruising at 80 mph but the journey is punctuated by numerous emergency style braking manoeuvres (even more scary without a brake to do them!) as wild horses, foxes, road runners and cattle suddenly appear from nowhere.  In one instance we came across two donkeys, two dogs and a horse accompanied by two men and two children, all walking across both lanes in the pitch black!

At long last and after six hours of riding we pulled in to our stopping place for the night.  I was introduced to the other riders, a group which, including pillions, now numbers 28. Tomorrow was to be one of the longer days, with several piste sections and so after a rather large steak, washed down with some Argentinian Malbec, I gratefully hit the sack.