Blog – Motorcycle trip through America
Welcome! If you like stories that talk about adventures and motorcycle trips we present this tale, seasoned with a dose of realism, fiction, satire and surrealism. A peculiar blog that summarizes a 2-year motorcycle trip across the American continent, covering 18 countries and a thread that deals with the relationship between man and motorcycle
CHAPTER I (My new travel companion)
At the moment this is the plan.
I leave the picture of our wedding, the sanctuary was the Concesionario Potenza in Cali, with the witnesses Juan and Mamucha.
CHAPTER 2 (Honeymoon)
The first day of our honeymoon I tried to surprise Kawa with an unexpected trip. We got on the road towards Bogotá, about 1,000 km, a decision that Kawa did not took very well, to my regret. She did not know that an old friend had invited us to visit the city, capital of the country, for a few days.
The views that we found on the roads of Colombia were spectacular. Crossing giant mountains populated with lush vegetation, small towns surrounded by humble homes and street vendors, friendly and grateful people at every step, military checkpoints that made us feel safe and endless astonishing spots. All this made us bond even further.
Back in Cali we continue the trip to the south with the intention of crossing to Ecuador and arriving to Quito, by mountain and by sea, through forests and dry lands, for us.
A few days later we arrived in Quito, this time a consensual destination with Kawa, where our Ecuadorian adoptive parents, Edward and Isa, welcomed us into their home, luxury available to very few. We rejoiced a few days of the city and its people, and we mentally prepared for the real life that awaited us after our honeymoon.
The relationship was “wind in the wheel”. Kawa’s engine could hold everything and gave me security. We adapted well to each other, so much that even the position on it was very comfortable, I would say even ergonomic. The days passed and we felt more loose, sure, once we even dared to play the horn or dodge a tuk-tuk, never without losing respect for anything or anybody.
We were also beginning to feel that detachment from which we wanted to release ourselves. We were very happy, and that made us even happier.
END of the honeymoon.
CHAPTER 3 (The moment of truth)
During the hours prior to departure, we had the opportunity to buy the last supplies that we needed to collect before our trip. It was a sunny Saturday in Quito, the city was smiling on us, but that morning fate was waiting for us with an unpleasant surprise. A reckless action by a driver caused us to suffer an accident in the middle of the street. The balance of such misfortune? Some scratches on me and Kawa a twisted leg (wheel) hit by the the car that broke her left suitcase. The most unpleasant thing of all? The guy fled. Yes, he left. Kawa and me asked ourselves, what would that character feel as he looked in the rearview mirror of the car and saw us lying on the asphalt? Only he knows that. We had not been traveling a lot, but these were situations that we had already thought that could happen and that we had internalized. The bitterness is not really that bitter.
A few days later and since we “forgot” the incident, we continue determined not to look back on that episode any further. These were things that could happen and we had to be prepared. We had a long trip to go.
From Quito we arrive at Cuenca, a colonial city dressed in white and with a sensational national park, called El Cajas, adorned with small lakes and a relatively arid environment. Again Kawa had to stay in the parking lot while I visited the trails offered by the place. A giant signal made it clear that it was prohibited to enter a motorcycle.
After a few days of relaxation and walking around the city, we continued to cross the Peruvian border through Tumbes. At Customs, despite our inexperience, we managed to do all the paperwork relatively quickly, even though we had to go here and there in search of photocopies, stamps and all the bureaucracy that requires crossing a border.
As for the cuisine of the country we could recommend very little, the truth is, that with our poor Budget, it was quite basic. Menus from what the road could offer, ceviches, soups and rice from street vendors that we could sometimes find. For Kawa refined gasoline 95, the best. She was more selective than me.
CHAPTER 4 (Game of the Goose – From bridge to bridge)
We took a few days to visit its surroundings, including Punta Farallón where there was a sea turtle sanctuary. It was a nice experience to be able to swim with them in total freedom. Again Kawa had to stay in the parking lot, I had forgotten her swimsuit in the hostel.
From Mancora we went to Piura and arrived on the way to Ciudad de Pescadores, a small desert town where everything was glances and whispers after we passed. We spend the night in the only hotel in the village and the next day we fled to Huanchacho (Trujillo), a traditional place in Peru that houses, in the form of pyramids and ruins, the remains of the ancient Moche and Chimú cultures that inhabited the place.
We continued crossing the road escorted by desert on both sides until we reached Lima, where Kawa had an appointment with her doctor at the “Kawasaki official” hospital for an oil change and a general review. Kawa’s health was important.
Two days in the capital and we flee again, this time to another small town on the coast called Paracas, where we visited its National Reserve, a huge expanse of desert with infinite roads that get lost towards the sunset and giant dunes that ended in spectacular cliffs in the Pacific Ocean. Also an ideal location to see sightings of sea lions and birds.
Along the way we were meeting many people, from other travelers who were fulfilling dreams, to local people with incredible stories. Fleeting friendships, also intense ones, ones that give (or take away), some perhaps for life, that made the journey more enjoyable and easy going. Let’s say that, at that time, they were a substitute for my family and friends.
We had been traveling for more than a month and a half and we did not think we were making a trip to finish the game board, but we felt that it was the trip that was transforming us .
CHAPTER 5 (Inca world)
We fell in love with the city, its hustle and its Christmas holidays. They were days of rain and sun and of kilometers through its cobbled streets in search of spare parts for Kawa. The idea was to be 2 days but we left after 2 weeks. Peruvian city highly recommended.
One day, walking among its historical ruins, I experienced a surreal conversation:
Inca: Hey, you!
Me: Yes!! Who speaks…? Who…?
Inca: Look at the stone that is exactly on your right.
Me: Fuck! But what are you doing in there !?
Inca: I have been living here for more than 500 years, since the Spaniards came to puff our balls.
Me: Ahh…I see.
Inca: And you? Where do you come from?
Me: My mother from Korea and my father from Alaska.
Inca: Ahh…because of your accent I thought you were Spanish.
Me: No, no, from a korean mother and an alaskan father. Lifelong.
Inca: And what brings you here?
Me: I’m traveling with my partner, but unfortunately she had to stay in the parking lot.
Inca: Altitude sickness is what she has. Sick from the heights, vomiting, but nothing that cannot be fixed with a little coca.
Me: No, no, she’s fine, it’s just that she can not climb these stairs.
Inca: Ah, is she tetraplegic?
Me: Well…yes, she has wheels, but she’s not exactly tetraplegic. She is a motorcycle.
Inca: Ahh…And traveling together?
Me: Yes, she carries me and I guide her.
Inca: I see, I see…And have you already visited Machu Pichu, Pizak, Sacsaywaman, Salinas de Maras, Morey, Ollantaytambo…?
Me: Yes! Yes! But what has surprised me more is finding an Inca embedded in a rock.
Inca: I understand that it surprises you. I am also the last Inca, the last stone incrustation that was made. That’s why they use me to talk with tourists, but it’s cold and they pay badly.
Me: Courage, with luck in a few years an earthquake awakens and all this disappears.
Inca: We would call that an earthquake “a la española”.
Me: Well, enough about the Spaniards! It has been a long time…
Inca: Spanish that I see, Spanish that I try to deceive and confuse. I cannot stand them. And you, what do you think of those conquerors?
Me: Sorry, I have to go, the crane is taking my wife. We will speak another day.
After Christmas and New Year’s Eve we managed to get away from the city and resume our journey to Arequipa, where we rested our bodies a couple of days before continuing through Puno, on the shores of Lake Titicaca, and crossing the border to Bolivia.
TO BE CONTINUE…