Paracas

We are progressing slowly thru the maze of Peru. Not having any transportation, we need to take buses and/or taxis to get anyplace. Yes, we made arrangements for the bus to take us to Paracas, the first step of our journey, but how do we get to the bus stop. Where is it? I thought I would just tell the taxi driver when I hail a taxi at 6 AM the next day but again, help comes from Francis. He orders a taxi to pick up us in the morning to take us to the Bus Terminal. Yes, the taxi was there in the AM, just on time and good thing, too, because when I looked along the normally busy street, there was not one taxi is sight this early in the day. We would have been in a pickle without help from Francis.
Just like at an airline counter, this bus terminal has a place to check in the luggage. The seats Francis booked were in the First Class section and we were served breakfast. Imagine, being served food on a bus by a stewardess. We left on time, exactly as it spelled out on the ticket, at 7.30 AM. I read that each Bus has 2 drivers and stewards. The drivers switch every 4 hours. This bus line, Cruz del Sur (www.cruzdelsur.com.pe) is run like an airline. The seats are comfy; they recline and have foot rests. Everything is clean and neat and organized. I was pleasantly surprised.
We arrived in Paracas on time and were greeted by Galinna, a friend of Francis. She had a car waiting and in no time, after reclaiming our bags we were at our new hostel. A bit away from the town on a dirt road the place is like a hotel; secure, quiet at night, an inviting pool and the room we finally received has one big bed, a large shower and serves us well for 2 nights. Galinna waited patiently for us get settled in and then took us for a 25 minute walk along the dirt road into town. Paracas is not St. Tropez, nor is it Monaco. It is a town someone decided to make into a tourist attraction. A Marine National Park nearby serves this purpose as Paracas is the jump off point. The town itself was very poor just a few years ago and it still shows in many places, especially away from town as we are. The main road still gets flooded during very high tides and the resulting puddles are a nuisance to traffic, especially on a dirt road as you can imagine. Yet some very wealthy folks have their summer place here. Houses near the water are so rich that security guards are hired full time to watch over them. A hotel, the Paracas Hotel, is so guarded, so secure, it is like entering a Bank. The town itself has just started to renovate. The board walk is almost done with some nice restaurants, but still a lot of hokey business stalls and cheap plastic things vendors are trying to sell to make a living. I had to turn one boy, begging for money, physically away from Carol. He was about 12 years old and should know better but when you are poor you take chances, I guess. He never saw me coming. The temperature was so hot that we just walked one big round thru town. We did not stay in town. Walking in this heat, even if it is only for about 1 hour is not for a born Canadian like Carol. We went back to the hostel and just rested. Dinner was a sandwich we bought earlier and I believe the mayonnaise on the sandwich turned bad. I had high fever last night and even after one long night of rest Carol convinced me to take a day of rest. We had a trip booked with Galinna and when she showed up this morning, we told her to forget it. We postponed our trip until tomorrow. Yes, these things can be done in Peru; you just postpone things until manana. I feel fine now; let us see what manana brings.

A bus ride in Lima

It is recommended not to stay after 5 PM even in Downtown Lima. We could have taken a taxi back to Miraflores, made our life easy but I wanted to try taking the local bus even if we get totally lost. Francis told us we need to take the ‘A” bus and he showed us on a small map the approximate location of the bus stop. The first trick was to find the street; we walked for a while in the general direction of where we had to go but got lost on an intersection which formed a star pattern. Since there are not always street signs, or the streets change names even on a straight away, we had to take a chance. We arrived at a place where a lot of buses stop and I asked a conductor in my limited Spanish if he knew of an “A” bus. He asked me if I wanted to go to Miraflores, I said yes. He said I am going to Miraflores, hop in. I thought, well, let’s take a chance and Carol and I stepped in and did not even find a handhold before the bus took off like a jack rabbit. Imagine a smallish bus taking off as fast as possible, heading for the most left lane on a 3 lane road after being parked on the right; in heavy traffic.
I could not find a seat nearby but saw that the bench in the back of the bus was not occupied. With some effort, Carol and I arrived at the back bench only to find that the seat in front of us had a broken backrest and the person sitting there was making the seat lean partially into the bench. We managed, somehow to find a comfortable position by moving our legs in awkward positions and holding on for dear life.
Meanwhile, I hear the conductor yelling ‘Miraflores’ to any person on the street. I understand Camino Royal and Miraflores and I am relieved because it shows we are on the right bus. Even if we just get to the suburb of Miraflores we can always take a taxi. So now I need to watch for familiar buildings, signs, something I remember when I walked around Miraflores trying to find the beach, the bank and the travel agency before I worked with Francis.
This bus ride is controlled chaos. Each bus has a driver and a conductor. The conductor stands in the doorway, half hanging out. He jumps on and off the bus when needed. The conductor calls out to the driver if there is a large hole, enough for the bus to fit into and the driver will make a right into this hole just because the conductor said so. The fit is tight. There is a communication between conductor and driver only they understand. They work as a team. One relies on the other. Even though the conductor is not at the wheel, he drives the bus, too. His eyes are everywhere. He yells to find passengers in the street, he watches the traffic patterns, tells the driver when there is an opening someplace, he collects the fare, in this case 1.50 Soles for the trip for each passenger. I only had 2 Soles for the two of us and he talked to me but it is hard for me to understand. He said give me just a little more but he did not say the exact fair. I gave him another 50 cents and he said, ok yet I knew it was not enough; he was too busy to worry about the exact fair. When he saw a possible client he told the driver to stop and somehow the young man driving the bus managed to get to the right. Again, the person was just on the bus when the race started again, with full force the bus veered left again and moved along the street; the conductor always yelling at full force, “Miraflores, Camino Royal!” When we had to stop at designated bus stops, an ice cream man got on the bus trying to sell ice cream. He got a free ride until the next stop and then got off. At one time a candy man got on, too, selling candy. I imagine Newspaper boys, any kind of sales person can get on for one stop to sell something. The speed for all of this is hectic, chaos reigns, yet it is controlled. At one point we came to an intersection that was blocked. Off the conductor went to see what is happening and just a few seconds later the driver takes off without the conductor. I thought, well that is it, the young man driving the bus lost his partner without realizing it. No, I am wrong, just as they reached the intersection which is now moving at a pretty good speed, I see the conductor running to catch up with his bus and jumps in while the bus hardly slows down. It is acrobatics, it is planned. This happened one more time a little later at a bus stop, the conductor jumps off, runs behind a building, the bus takes off and then the conductor runs full speed to catch up with the bus and jumps on. I am watching all this in amazement. I watch the street packed full with cars, horns blaring, I see no way to move forward only to find the bus getting in a small opening to get ahead. Somehow the bus hardly stops in between bus stops. The driver finds his way.
I see 2 seats closer to the door and Carol and I change seats. While being seated I tell the conductor we need to get off near a roundabout, ovalo, which I remembered from our walks. He said, ok, he will let me know. I still don’t trust the whole thing for I am in between trusting the guy and still believing we are on the wrong bus. The bus does not have the letter “A” on the front, it is a non-descript bus, it looks to me like 100 other buses. I cannot figure out how the identification works, yet I am on a bus heading for Miraflores. I am sure I am heading for Miraflores. I can now watch the driver from my new seat and see that he acts like a race driver. He is full of attention to the road. Nothing matters to him but the traffic flow, the road, the race. He is shifting, giving signals, listening to the conductor, beeping his horn, watching, driving. He is all driver, heart and soul. He is about 25 years old and I have the feeling is being trained by the conductor. I can see them being a good team in time. The young man is learning and I can tell by the demeanor of the conductor that he is happy with the driver. What a team! After a 30 Minute ride, all of a sudden I hear OVALO and I do not hesitate, I yell at Carol and we are off the bus. Only after we are off, the bus already back in the sway of things, do I look around. Yes, I recognize some things; we are only one block from the hostel, at the right oval on the right street. What a ride.

Downtown Lima, Peru

After having secured our itinerary with Francis we took a day to visit Lima and to follow some of his suggestions for a daytrip. I need to preface by saying that just because a city is the capital of a county it does not mean it is the most beautiful part of the county. Lima worked out great for the Conquistadores because it had a very good natural harbor. Water was available due to a river nearby and the area is relatively flat, so all in all it was a good place to anchor. In the beginning Lima was just a small village, nothing to write home about. After the discovery of gold, Lima turned into one of the main centers for transshipment of the loot to Europe. In the fashion of the day, a Christian order was given the exclusive right to convert the heathens to Christianity. For Lima, the Crown of Spain gave this right to the Franciscan order and their monks. Maybe it helped that Pizarro’s first name was Francisco.
We visited the church of San Francisco which was build around a monastery mainly to see the catacombs. This was not the first Church built nor is it the main cathedral of Lima. The main Cathedral is near the Plaza de Armas, the main square, which is in the layout of a major Spanish town. I believe one has to choose which church to visit because there are so many of them and to visit all are not part of what I want to do when on a trip. San Francisco Cathedral and its cloister are known for the catacombs but besides that the woodcarvings are impressive. True Christians, in years past, were buried in the womb of Gods building to be as close to God as possible, even after death. Pizarro is buried in the main Cathedral, the church we did not visit. Like I said, I do not want to visit just churches while in a country. Maybe I will visit Pizarro’s tomb near the end of the trip. I also have the feeling that I will hear about Pizarro and the Franciscans and their counterpart the Jesuits all along this trip, so I will take it easy on the religious part of my history lesson. I will comment on what I learn after some time.
For now I want to write down what I learned in the catacombs. I learned that when bodies were buried inside the church lime was added to their decomposing bodies to speed up the decomposition of the flesh but the bones remained. After a while the whole basement of the cathedral was full of bones. Since its beginning in 1642 body after body was buried beneath the main floor of the cathedral. After 1842 this practice stopped, yet over 75,000 people were buried below the floor. Today only some bones remain. Most of them were cleaned up around 1940 or so and only the big parts were saved. Artfully arranged they remain in cases and special places, off limits to visitors yet plainly in sight. It is a bit eerie to see skulls and shin bones, etc. all lines up like in a warehouse. Just imagine the stink of the decomposing bodies filtering through the holes in the floor into the main nave of the church. Now I know why the church uses a lot of incense during a mass. The strong whiff of the incense helps to eliminate some of the other odors, I guess. It was an experience and worth a visit.
We stopped at the museum of Mr. Rafael Larco Herrera and his famous Archeology collection. In a beautiful house with an exquisite courtyard, Mr. Herrera today shows his private collection of Pre-Columbian art. It is not a very large, overwhelming museum yet it shows clearly that the Incas were just the tip of the iceberg in the cultures of Peru. Before the Incas were dozens of other ‘tribes’ that dominated. The Incas were just at the top when Pizarro arrived. Before the Incas, were other cultures I am here to learn about.
Visiting the museum and looking at the objects displayed, I can see why the Spaniards melted them down. It is hard to see the value of a golden object when your taste in art runs so opposed. I guess art is in the eye of a beholder. People made some mistakes when being faced with choices between a plain golden plate and an ornamented golden ring. Even today I do not share the feeling of beauty of a nose ring or an object one sticks in an enlarged earlobe. Yet those were objects prized and treasured by the Incas. I have a lot to learn.
We walked around the Plaza de Armas, visited Plaza de Martin and then took a local bus back to the hostel. The bus ride was an experience I will talk about in a separate small note.

Meet Francis,

There are all kinds of people in this world, I meet many and yet they just pass me by. I don‘t know them and will never know them. We both say hello to each other, even exchange a smile or at most a few words but that is about it, and then we go on our way. All the people I meet have a story to tell I am sure. I cannot even tell why a certain person has a deeper attraction than others. Time passes us by quickly and it takes an effort to sit down and meet each other. Some kind of spark has to ignite this relationship. Some people we meet have an effect on us that will last for years, some we will never forget and some memories of people will melt away like snow on a hot day. Yet at the time we meet them we just have to meet them. I am not saying that a meeting with new people is pre-determined but I often wonder why I meet people, what do they have to tell me, why am I here at this moment, is there a message I have to listen to? Why do I meet them?
So this time I met Francis P. Chauvel, the proprietor of the Hostel, Albergue Miraflores House in Miraflores, Peru (www.alberguemirafloreshouse.com) . Busy like a one armed paperhanger he runs a good hostel. He tries to run it like a hotel, it is better than a hostel. He has wakeup calls, changes sheets not just at the end of the stay but every other day, serves Pisco Sours in the afternoon, etc. Yes, he has a staff that helps yet he takes responsibility for everything. He takes his position as a hostel owner seriously, he cares about his clients. Francis heard of the dilemma Carol and I were in. Machu Picchu is not accessible until maybe April, so the newspapers here speculate. We saw pictures of the torrents that wrecked Aguas Calientes and it was obvious from the pictures that a visit at this moment is out of the question. Maybe it is the mentality of Peruvians, who take one day at the time, but Francis was not rattled by the facts. Things will work out for us. We all sat down Wednesday afternoon and talked and Francis found alternative ways to visit Peru. Through his long established network of friends, Francis found the solutions. He made more than a dozen telephone calls for us. Yes we had interruptions by his staff and his workforce, an electrician and a welder, who were installing an air conditioner a painter who painted some rooms, etc. Francis remained calm and cheerful and organized it all. After some 6 hours working for us we had all the bus tickets, we had reservations for all the hostels, for all the tours, we are now totally set. What did Francis charge? Nothing! He worked his network. He did favors for his friends who needed clients like us. He served his own pride by helping his clients and making sure that we were well taken care of. Could we have done it without Francis? NO! His demeanor is perfect for his position in life. We were lucky to have met him. Or was it more than luck? Do we really meet people we have to meet when we are in need? Some people believe there is a guiding thread in our lives. Sometimes I begin to wonder. No matter the underlying reason: Thank you, Francis!
PS. Not only did Francis make all the arrangements for us free of charge, he follows up, too. We are now in Paracas and Francis called his contact and spoke to Carol as well. He called just to make sure we are ok and all worked out for us. What a Guy.

Planning helps but…

We plan well. Well, as well as we can, sometimes we over plan. We left the house in Surprise, AZ after we cleaned up the place, and took a hotel (at least 3 Star) which I always bid on via priceline.com. I find it works for me, I don’t care what the name of the hotel is, and just that it is clean not smelly. We made arrangements to have our car stored at a place a bit away from the airport and got a corporate rate ($50) for a month. The car is secure. We left our bikes packed on the trailer in the garage in Surprise so that when we return, we just have to hook the trailer up and go. All went smoothly, we did plan well.
Our flight was no issue, the waiting in line to take our shoes off, take the computer out, etc is something we cannot control and I always feel I become a sardine in a sardine can. I feel I get packed tightly. It must be that this packing and shipping is easier for the airline. I hate to fly but what can one do? This is the fastest way to get places. We flew American Airlines and I had the notion that this airline can not last long. All went well; I used my accumulated points for this flight. Now AA can drop the point system, I have none left. I plan well.
We arrived in Lima about an hour late around 11 PM local time. We did not make prior taxi arrangements but I knew from a note I received from our hostel, to look for the ‘Green Taxi’ Company. Sure enough, their counter was right outside the secure area of the airport and it took only 3 minutes to get going. The cost was a bit more than the ‘regular’ taxis, but it was totally safe and safety counts in Peru. We had made accommodation arrangements via Hostelwold.com and we were assured that they would be open even at this late hour. The trip into town was successful and about 40 minutes later we reached our goal, the Albergue Miraflores House in Miraflores (www.alberguemirafloreshouse.com), a suburb of Lima. Yes, they had our reservations, all is well. We planned well.
This morning we woke up after about 6 hours of sleep in a non air-conditioned room. The temperature went from a dry 50 F in Arizona to about 80 degrees here in Lima, but the air here is heavy with very high humidity intensifying the scent of flowers mixed with cigarette smoke and pollution.
We took a walk to the beach near here today wanting to feel the cool air coming off the water even though the sky looked threatening. It was overcast and looked like rain so walking was ok. We even took sunscreen along, we plan well but….. We did not use the sunscreen and now here we are at the hostel and we shine in the common area with two burned faces. Yes, we plan well but do not always do what we plan for. I should have known better than to walk out on an overcast day near the Equator without head protection and/or sunscreen. Ouch! It hurts to be this stupid. You can tell on my face today, it is glowing red, how all the planning does not work if you don’t follow up.
We are staying here for 3 days, and then we had planned to go to Cuzco and Aguas Calientes. We also made arrangements via Hostelworld and received confirmations for our stays in those towns. We plan and do the best we can. But…………. the rain in recent days has washed out the roads to Machu Picchu, the main bridge to Aguas Calientes from Cuzco has collapsed, 3,000 people are being evacuated via helicopter from Aguas Calientes and brought back to Cuzco. So now we are not going to Machu Picchu. So much for our planning! Yes, I had bought cancel Insurance for the Hostel Reservation and cancellation was just a click on the screen of Hostelworld, but what do we do now, we came all this way to see Machu Pichu?

Frank Lloyd Wright

For years now, in places I did not expect him, Frank pops into my life. At the MOA rally in Madison, Wisconsin I first read about Taliesin and knew nothing about the place, I just knew the general information that Frank Lloyd Wright was an American architect. Carol and I rode out to see Taliesin, near his birthplace, to see what he was all about and learned that he was the father of modern architecture. I remember I was leery to spend the steep admission price to just view a building. Since then I ran into Frank near Pittsburg to see his famous house “Falling Water”; the building that brought him world fame and made him a much sought after genius. Yes, I spent another steep admission price to see Falling Water.
And again, here in Phoenix I run into Frank Lloyd Wright. Driving around the city, studying the map, Carol sees a Frank Lloyd Wright Boulevard and a Taliesin West site near Scottsdale and somehow we just had to see this place, too. I also saw that some good books were written about Frank L. Wright when I visited Borders the other day. Frank is mentioned in Eric Larson’s book “The Devil in the White City”. It seems that Frank has something to say to me but I am not picking up on it yet. I thought that maybe by writing this, something might bubble to the surface.
Frank was a short man, maybe 5.7 he always made sure he wore platform shoes to look larger than life. He wore a cape to make himself appear bigger. He wore a hat to give him height. He spent money fast and was in debt most of his life. He married 3 women and I do not know anything more about his private affairs but I know that when I walk into his buildings I get this feeling that I am home. Not that I like modern architecture, I do not in fact. Or let me say I prefer a house or home that is functional and warm and made so that if fits me. Like a shoe, it must fit without causing pressure spots. I do not really care what the outside looks like, it must feel right. F L W‘s homes feel cozy! They feel logical and have something that makes me realize that he knew something special. While his personality made people shake their head, his performance as an architect was unique.
I am told that Taliesin means shining brow. Frank Lloyd did not believe in putting a house on the top of a hill. Compared to a human face, his house was situated not on the persons head but was placed so that it appeared as an eyebrow on a face. Taliesin is a Welsh word meaning a shining eyebrow. He was adamant about using the natural environment around his houses and tried to compliment or blend in with Nature.
I am still wondering why I am so attracted to his style, his way of thinking. Maybe it will come to me. I visited Taliesin West, his winter hangout in Arizona, and I am posting some pictures here. He was an early snowbird, bought 800 acres of desert in Scottsdale, when it was cheap. He had vision, lived his own way, lived in a style he believed in and was an ego maniac. So why am I running into him all the time?

Off to Peru !

Well, what a nice guy, Wayne Lee turned out to be. After we spent 3 weeks exploring Phoenix, AZ and the surrounding area Wayne helped us load our bikes on the borrowed trailer for the next step on our schedule. This is not easy for Wayne, he lives about 2 hours away from here, yet he came in his truck just to help me load the 2 bikes. What a guy! Thank you, Wayne!
Loading a bike on a truck or trailer is always an adventure for me. I normally ride my bike to anyplace and only recently have I tried to get places via trailer, pulling the bike behind a car. I am not sure I like pulling a trailer although it is convenient. I miss the accomplishment of getting to a place via bike. A car seems a bit soft, too comfortable yet it is a good way to get your bike to a place you can ride. Canada right now is way below Zero and riding is not recommended. To trailer the bikes to warmer climates is a good alternative. And at least I can continue riding a bike rather than leaving it in the garage in Toronto, waiting for spring time.
I tried loading the trailer by myself but found this difficult, especially the bikes are packed tight like they are. The two bikes just about fit and we have only inches to spare on either side of the bike. I used 10 straps to hold 2 bikes in place. Did I overdue it? I believe better safe than sorry! I can drive the car now with the conviction that the bikes are loaded well and secured solidly. I use foam insulation, normally used for pipe insulation, as extra bumpers for areas that could chafe or rub. I tape all loose strap ends with duct tape so that nothing blows in the wind. I cover electric connecters for the GPS with electrical tape so that they are protected. I do what it takes to make the transport as safe as possible. Wayne was a great help. I could tell he has packed bikes for hauling before, he knew his stuff. Well, we are all set to go as you can see by the pictures. All loose ends are tied down, we are ready to go.
We are flying to Peru to see if it is possible for us to ride there in the future. Carol and I chose Peru because it would be the middle of a trip from the U.S. to Tierra del Fuego; let us see if we are not too old to ride those roads. This is a scouting mission and we will report on what I believe is a go or no go for a ride down to the Southern End of the world. We will keep all possibilities open; we are off to Peru!

Alien Desert Plants

As a man born in the temperate zones of Europe, having lived always in the Northern Hemisphere, I know nothing about the desert and the plants that grow here. I might as well have landed with an alien spaceship on a new planet. Everything seems so new to me. It must be a left over subconscious feeling after seeing the movie Avatar.
I do not recognize one plant. Sure I know what a cactus looks like and a tree, but I wanted to learn the difference between a Palo Verde, an Ironwood and a Mesquite Tree during my guided tour of the Sonora Desert. All three trees are of the legume family by the way. The specific weight of Iron Wood is greater than water. Iron wood does not float. Mesquite wood is used to flavor food. Palo Verde uses its bark for photosynthesis.
Chris Adix (christopher.a.adix@wellsfargo.com) was our tour guide. For about 2 and ½ hours we trekked on foot thru a small section of the Sonora Desert. Chris showed us why we really need to avoid the Teddy Bear Cactus (Cholla) since it is very brittle and sections break off easily and cling to you. It seems the barbed pieces easily pierce the skin. They are clingy like a Teddy Bear, hence the name. And yes, they itch and hurt for hours after you get rid of the barbs. Some barbs are so small they burrow into you and you will have a difficult time removing them if you can even see them. A barrel cactus, on the other hand is comparatively harmless, since it just stands there. Yet, don’t sit on this barrel. Some barrel cacti have bent barbs that can be used as fish hooks, hence its name, fish hook cactus. Some barrel cacti always twist themselves towards the sun and are called compass cacti. But watch out for the Teddy Bear Plant.
Strangely, though, the packrat, a rodent living here, collects the broken pieces of this Cholla cactus and brings them to its midden. I learned that midden is a dump site in archeology, and packrats pass their midden on from generation to generation. These fallen off pieces are needed for the propagation of the Cholla plant and the packrat aids in distributing the seeds of this cactus.
Chris told us that the creosote tree is the oldest living plant on earth. There is one in the Lucerne Valley in California that is 11,700 years old. The typical smell that reaches your nose in the desert, especially after a rain, is the smell of the creosote tree. The natives used the small leaves to make herbal tea which helped for some ailments.
Prickly pear cactus is edible for humans (you need to burn off the barbs) and for Javelinas as well. Javelinas are not pigs; even though they look like a pig. We did not see any animals (only a cotton tail bunny) on our short trip but I was overwhelmed with the knowledge Chris shared. He talked a lot but somehow I seem to remember many of the things he said. He has a natural way of sharing what he knows. He is a great guy and guide. The stories about the Saguaro cactus, about how they grow, how their blooms are harvested as food, how much water they can hold, etc are amazing to me.
The whole trip into the desert was a new experience. I like to know what is edible, what is ornamental and what is medicinal when it comes to plants. This trip into the desert gave me a totally new appreciation for the people who lived here and how they survived in an area that seems inhospitable yet offers free food and drink for the person who can find it or knows what to take or where to look.
We saw petroglyphs that were 1000 years old, just lying on the ground. People have been here for millennium living off the land. I am the new comer, I am learning slowly. I find it amazing and interesting to be able to live in this alien world, this section of the planet is so strange and so different from where I grew up.
My trip to the Botanical Garden of Arizona just a few days before was not as informative as this guided tour with Chris. Send him an email if you want to have a tour of the desert here in Phoenix, this guy is good.
Even Chris is still puzzled as to why the rattlesnake gives birth to live offspring and another snake that looks exactly like the rattlesnake, makes a “rattle” sound but is not poisonous, lays eggs and hatches them. Two snakes, both look alike and are often confused, both live in the same environment yet are so different from each other. There are a lot of stories here; there is a lot to discover. AZ is worth a trip, the best month would be late March or early April. I think I am coming back someday.

Copper Mines and a Helping Hand

We had a visitor here at our rented house, Wayne Lee from Edmonton, Alberta. He and Irene, his partner, rode up last week and told us about some good riding roads on the East side of Phoenix. To get there, though, we have to ride straight across Phoenix or use a belt way around the town. We decided to use the belt system; it seems shorter in time because it is mostly highway. Still, it took us about 2 hours just to reach the east side of Phoenix. The weather forecast for this week is rain and low temperatures, snow possible over 4000 feet. But yesterday, Sunday, the sun shone and even though it was cool, it was not cold. So, off we went to explore the other side, which on the map looked like good riding. Wayne also told us about a huge Copper mine that has to be seen to be believed. Again, we wanted to just ride for the day and be back by nightfall.
After reaching Apache Junction, we were due for a soup and saw a typical diner and perfect stop for a break. Before we went in however, I saw a fellow rider having trouble starting his bike. He was frustrated and when I asked him some basic questions he answered but I could tell he wanted to find the solution and ride away. The battery had enough juice, the lights were on, but when he pushed the starter, not a sound. No grinding of the starter, nothing. We checked for loose cables, checked each fuse in the fuse panel; tried this and that but nothing. He needed a tow. I offered to take him or his partner home on my bike but they both wanted to stay with the bike. I loaned them my cell phone and they called a buddy to toe them home. We went inside and had our soup to warm us up and after about 3o minutes were ready to move on. This poor fellow still sat and waited for his friend to pick him up. I ask again if he wanted me to call a road service, if he wanted me to ride one of them back to their home but no, they preferred to wait for their neighbor. I felt so helpless and frustrated; I really thought starting a bike, any bike, even if it was a Harley like he had, just needed 3 things: fuel, spark and air. Well he had all three but the bike would not start. I wish I could have helped, it would have made me feel like a hero but I can only say I rode away not knowing anything. Too bad, it would have been nice to help.
The road Wayne told us about was busy, a lot of riders were on their Sunday ride and even cars were in abundance. The speed limit was 55 miles/hour and there were police watching at strategic spots. Some spots were curvy and while the scenery was rough and very Western, I was disturbed by the destruction of some of the hills. I could tell a large amount of earth had been moved by an open pit mining operation. Yes, it looked neat but somehow so wrong to see this in the mountains of Arizona. To me it looked like an ugly scar on the rugged landscape. The mountains taken away were replaced by the remaining dirt which was terraced into mountains. It looked so false, so ugly it disturbed me. No matter what the rest of the day would bring, I could not get over the scars inflicted by man. These are huge copper mines, I know we need copper and yes, it is in nowhere land, not much around, just some small, decrepit looking mining towns made out of old trailers that look abandoned. Yet, I felt ashamed that this would be allowed to happen. I mean whole valleys were dug up, huge mountains were removed. Sure there is lots of space and on the whole it might not mean much; except for me it looks ugly.
We reached about 5000 feet in altitude and it turned cold enough to turn on our heated grips. Being in the middle of nowhere, we realized we needed to watch our gas. Lucky for us we found one gas station open and filled up and left for ‘home’. The trip back, again, was mostly super slab at 70 miles per hour plus in the HOV lane.
It was a strange day, we rode for about 300 miles that day, the roads were ok, some even beautiful but seeing the environmental destruction inflicted by man, overshadowed the experience.
Yes, I know we need copper!

Use it or lose it

If you rest, you will rust.

And we started to rust after 3 months of hardly riding our bikes in Toronto due to winter weather. Sure we rode a little but not enough to keep sharp in our riding skills. Going to BMW Open Road in Newmarket does not count as a ride, does it? Nor does going to a motorcycle show in downtown Toronto make us better riders. We needed to ride to stay in shape and not rust. So what to do? We rented a beautiful home in Surprise AZ for a few weeks this January and towed our bikes all the way from Toronto to Surprise, near Phoenix, AZ.
We left at -12 Celsius with snow on the ground and it took us 4 days of driving, taking only Super Slab Highways. We even spent New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day on the road to get away from the non-riding weather. We reached elevations of over 7000 feet and the temperature kept hovering around the minus 10 degree Celsius mark for most of our trip to Arizona. Only when we descended from the Northern Plains of Arizona and dropped to 1500 feet here in Phoenix did the thermometer climb to 68 degrees. For all the folks in the North Country let me tell you, 68 degrees F feels like heaven.
After we got settled into this large, luxurious home (3 bedrooms, pool, 2 car garage, etc. -actually bigger than we needed), we cleaned our machines, cleaned the car and cleaned the trailer( borrowed from Tom Stewart , an Ontario BMW Club member) and set our sights on riding to Sedona, AZ .
Yesterday we got started not too early, the nights are still cold here and we did not want to freeze while riding too early. So we left the house at about 9 AM. We took the back roads. The map showed some twisties on Rt. 89A and we were not disappointed. A stop at Prescott for a warm soup was most welcome. The sun shone but not strongly enough to warm us. Our bodies ached from inactivity and not riding for so long, we had started to rust and while we calculated 2 hours to get to Sedona, it took us almost 4 hours. OK, we diddled, we stopped in Prescott, we stopped in Jerome and all this ate away at the time. The road itself, twisty in some spots and with snow on the side and possibly black ice made for careful riding.
During our drive to Surprise, the cold weather took its toll on Carol’s bike battery and we had to recharge it. We now wondered if we would have any trouble while out riding but I can report that all is ok, her bike started every time.
We arrived in Sedona at about 1 PM, took a look around, decided that we have to come back here and visited the Art Village of Tiaquepaque. Somehow we are always attracted to Art Galleries, to the representation of the unusual. Tiaquepaque is a great example of what we like. We rode around some side streets until we got to some dirt roads that looked too dangerous to ride. I inspected the roads for a stretch but given that the rust in still with us, we declined and left Sedona at 3 pm amid bright sunshine and moderate temperatures of 68 degrees F. We knew we had 2 hours of riding before us if we did not stop. The light wanes quickly here at dusk and we had to be back in Phoenix by 5 pm in order to ride in daylight. The shortest route was Interstate 17 south to Phoenix which allowed speeds of 75 miles per hour. Well, not being used to these speeds, sometimes going 80 plus with the sun in our eyes, it was another experience that showed we had rusted some. Traffic was light on the way back until we got to Phoenix and then it became stop-and-go due to rush hour. We got back at 5.45 PM and had a good first day of riding for our first day after some rusting.

Yes, it shows, when you don’t use it you will lose it. We need to ride more!

Reflections of 09

We are on our way back to Toronto and this is a reflection of our trip. About 10 weeks ago we were anxious to start; now we feel a need to get back to a more civilized routine. Travel is not easy. Life is unpredictable on the road, yet we were very lucky. Each night we found shelter. Accommodation went from living in a tent or a garden shed to having the finest society had to offer in a 4 star hotel. We had the illusion that the internet is available all over the world, it is! Yet it is either expensive or so slow that it defies usefulness. We ate well, not always the finest but we were never hungry. The weather was on our side. Yes, we had rain, fog, cold spots even heat but all in all we rode in dry conditions. We were extremely pleased about that. Our bikes held up, no major repair needed. In the most desolate areas the machines ran well. I managed with a defective side stand to get off and on the bike using a wooden block. I was a bit nervous about my bald front tire but I learned from that, too. Next year we will start with a fresh set of tires. We rode slowly when Carol’s chain was worn out and needed replacement. We ran into people that were helpful and even offered their home for us to use. Thank you again, Hilde and Sigurd. We lived day to day with a destination in mind, with a theme to follow. There were a lot of firsts for Carol. The mind was on overload but we survived it all. Right now it rains, the last day of our trip we are holed up at Stefan Knopf’s place in Heidelberg. Our bikes are washed, the oils have been changed, the fuel stabilized and all is put away until next year. We had a good trip. Next year we will continue on a new venture and let’s hope that in the future all trips will be as good as this trip.

Familiar Places

I ask myself some days why do I travel. Do I have a gene that cannot sit still? Do I seek something new all the time? Am I that curious? Most people I know love to go on vacation but the travel I am talking about is different. When I travel I do not have an itinerary with a daily destination; I do not like that too much. I rather like the free flow and sense of discovery when I travel. Yes, I like a target, a city, a region or a country that I will aim for when I am on the road. I like a theme, for example I liked retracing and exploring the route Lewis and Clark took in the early 19th century. I like to find newness, things I never saw or knew before. With the Lewis and Clark example I enjoyed learning about the lives of the Native American at the time of Lewis and Clark. I am not sure how deep I want to go on some subjects but if it is new to me, I like to learn as much as possible. The difficulty is that my brain can hold only so much on any given day. I do get overloaded with impressions and newness over time and I can feel the learning, the sheer size of newness, physically. I know from experience that I need a rest when I feel like this. Weeks of accumulated new experiences wear on me.
That is the reason I go back to familiar places; places that do not burden me with new, but relax me with familiar. Familiar is predictable, something I normally do not like very much. But familiar is calming, reassuring and well, familiar.
So, after all of our travels for the last 9 weeks we went to France. I learned to love this county. France to me is familiar; the food is great, the people friendly and the French routine somewhat predictable. But because I can only converse in words, not in sentences I went back to Germany. Now here, of course, I am at home and I find some pride in the German ways yet I would never live here again. The language is my mother tongue. It is way, way too familiar. Way too predictable for me.
But my bike needed a new headlight, the auxiliary light from Touratech needed fixing and the right aluminum pannier needed adjusting. Touratech was the place to go and we over-nighted in Dauchingen at the ‘Schwarzwaelder Hof’ Hotel, a great, clean, predictably German place for a night. How people can live their entire life in Dauchingen is beyond my understanding. I cannot be like them. I need to travel. I need to explore. I need to search. I am curious. I want to know and learn. So I am constantly in flux; trying to find a place to settle, yet feeling the need to add to my experiences through travel.
I am lucky that Carol is as much a traveler as I am. Her reasons might be different, but we make a good team. After all this time, travelling and getting bumped around by circumstances, we get along just fine. I don’t have, nor do I pretend to know, all the answers to the way I am.
This blog is just a vent as to what goes on in my head while traveling. I am constantly searching for some kind of answers about myself. Maybe traveling is a diversion or an excuse not to face myself?
I am learning though and will do what I do until I can no longer do it.

Champions

One of my riding friends, Norm Smith, moved recently, permanently, to Switzerland. His wife Denise is Swiss and Washington D.C., home for Denise and Norm for the last decade or so, lost 2 good citizens.
I first met Norm on a GlobeRiders (http://www.globeriders.com/) Trip in 2004. Norm and I rode together for 65 days, from Shanghai, China to Munich, Germany. If you want to get to know someone well, ride with him/her on a daily basis for some time. Norm is a Champion, hands down. His riding skills were honed by many years of off-road competition all around the U.S. and Canada in his early years. He never lost the touch of riding off road and still does it well. Not only did he win the 1963 Corduroy in Canada (http://www.corduroyenduro.ca/), he became an off road champion everyone can read about or look up on the internet. But Norm is more than just an official page in a book; he received the Friend of the Marque award from BMW 2 years ago, too. All that makes Norm a great guy in many eyes but in my eyes he is a Champion of special caliber. He is my friend.
We visited Norm and Denise in their new home near Montreux, Suisse. Norm still has his passion for motorcycles but seems to start to replace it with learning about the best wines in the region. He gave us a tour of the best wineries he knows and we even had some wine tasting that was very real, without the pressure of ‘buy’ this wine.
What a great spot Norm picked to spend his evening of life. I admire his ability to adjust to all these new circumstances, to the new languages, even though he speaks French, German and Italian and of course English, quite well. Thank you for your hospitality, Norm and Denise. I salute the contentment you found in your new life. Thanks, Denise, for a wonderful diner from your own garden and the local product from your favorite sausage maker.
Norm is a guide for me in some ways; a guide to living as you get older and life starts to wear on your body. I still see Norm’s determination, his will is very strong. I see his passion in everything and I think that makes him or anybody else I admire a champion. A person who knows he/she is getting older, yet never gives up is what I admire. I see this in Norm. You are doing well indeed, Norm, my hat is off to you.
I have a few selected people in this world, all Champions. I like to stay in touch with them. I like to visit them, talk to them, and learn from them. These people have collected experiences not only in the motorcycle community, but in life, too. Life has made them the Champions I so admire. Each one of my Champions teaches me something. Each one has their own unique value; their personal aura is what attracts me to them. It may not be visible to everyone, but to me those people are very special.
The late Lyle Grimes comes to mind, too. Life was not so generous with Lyle yet he was so determined to make the best of it all and he showed it in never giving up. Lyle rode 1.2 million miles plus on a motorcycle before he passed away this year. I talked to Lyle many times, he treated me like a son and I learned from his friendly nature and generous personality. Lyle was a Champion for sure. Everybody loved this guy; everybody must have seen his aura, too. He always spoke kindly about everyone; he was never rude or abrasive. I can still see him in my mind and I think I always will remember him. Lyle and I had a little game; each time I saw him at a rally I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, like they do in Italy. He pretended he did not like it but yet I know otherwise. Lyle and I had a good mental connection, he was a Champion. He was my friend. I will miss you, Lyle.
Only David Swisher has more miles riding a motorcycle. Dave is a living legend, one of my Champions. Dave and I have talked many times and he told me his life story. We talked about his struggle as a young man, his innovative application of mechanization in the early days of dairy farming and all that added up to what Dave is today. Yes, Dave is still counting his miles, presently over 1.75 million miles, but I am not counting his miles. Dave is my friend. Dave will always be a Champion whether he adds miles or not. David and Lyle were riding buddies for years and I am sure David feels the loss of Lyle the most.
Some people I admire don’t even know me well. Michelle Duff is one of those. Last time I met Michelle she was in Toronto at the yearly Motorcycle Show. She does not know me well enough to talk to me freely, I hear about her in the racing circuit of the generation that came before me. I admire her spirit, her independence, and I admire her for doing her thing no matter what society thinks or believes is proper. Good for you, Michelle! You are a Champion in my book.
Joe Katz, a very friendly, self-sufficient man opened my eyes to another level of motorcycle riding. Joe is no longer able to ride but he drives his new car to rallies now. Joe never owned a car before and all this is new to him. Joe Katz is still a motorcycle rider at heart; never mind that he rides his car now. He is an institution at most rallies and he is a true Champion.
We all are getting older, we all start to fail. Some of us more severely than others but yes, most of my Champions are older. Not that this is a requisite for being a Champion, not at all. Being of a more advanced age just brings more experience to the table. I like to learn and I like to learn from people that can give me a new, different view on life. I do not believe, just because years have gone by, that my Champions have nothing new to contribute. Just the opposite is true. We can all learn from each other, I seem to learn more from my friends who have gone through life and situations before me. I admire their knowledge, their experiences, let me learn from them. I hope I can be as gracious as Norm Smith, as determined as Lyle Grimes, as independent as Michelle Duff or as popular as Joe Katz, no matter my age, no matter my physical conditions. My Champions are always an inspiration to me.
I agree with Norm Smith who is now enjoying life with a glass of wine in his hand and 2 motorcycles in the garage which he now rides infrequently. Life is to be enjoyed.
L’Chaim, enjoy your age, enjoy life! And thank you all, even the ones I did not mention here, you are my Champions no matter what.

Swiss, Schweiz, Switzerland, Suisse, Svizzera

A delightful day in Bolzano (Bozen), where we finally found an Italian Internet connection, gave us a starting point for Switzerland! Bozen is a town I could spend some time in. I loved the real life, the real market, and the real people in that city. If only they had better internet set up in Italy.
The anti-terrorist laws in Italy on Internet use are very strict. A copy of your passport is needed to use any public internet. So if you own an internet café you need a copy machine because each customer must present their passport so a copy can be made. All this is rather cumbersome and, of course, nobody wants to be bothered doing it. WiFi is not in use since this would circumvent the law. The fines for letting someone use the internet without you obtaining their passport copy are steep and expensive. Two hours of internet use in Italy, if you can find a café like this, costs 8 Euros. But Italy is fun, lively, real and a great place to visit. In Italy I don’t see the falling apart houses, the grime. I only see life as it is. But we cannot stay here, we must move on.
So we left Italy after some outstanding, difficult riding in the Dolomites. When we left Bolzano we did not use the highway since even the secondary roads were in the valleys and riding secondary roads after all the Alpine passes, seemed a breeze.
I have always wanted to add Lichtenstein to my roster of countries in which I have ridden so we made sure we visited Valdus in the country of Lichtenstein. I had such a romantic notion of this Earldom that the reality of what we experienced there floored me. There is nothing pretty about this county. A hodge-podge of building styles put together without a master plan. Chaos is the best word I can think of. Nothing nice; all just business oriented and may I say it, ugly. Well we visited but were glad to get out of it, fast! We thought it can only get better in Switzerland.
We entered Switzerland from the east after riding on some rather mild roads. Maybe it was Lichtenstein, but this time around I was not impressed with Switzerland either. The buildings were old, dirty and in some cities, full of graffiti. A power washer business would be a good business to have in Eastern Switzerland. Maybe it is hard to keep these old buildings up to snuff. I am not sure; my impression was that the towns we rode through needed help.
There is sticker shock too. Hotel rooms are 140 Swiss Franken a night. One Franken is about one US Dollar. Yes, it includes breakfast but the rooms we stayed in were so-so. The furniture was old, the light fixtures old, the backyard stuffed full of stuff. Yes, next to each house, in every backyard there seems to be stuff. Building material lies around, ladders are leaned against the house, plastic tarps cover something, etc. It does not look pretty.
So how do I tell you about Switzerland? Is it as romantic as in Heidi? NO! Although we did see some of the old ways still preserved. We rode through some towns where cows were driven through the streets to spend their winter in barns after a summer in the high pastures. The cows were decorated in the old Alpine tradition with large bells around their necks and garlands on their heads.
Today, however, the cars drove right past them and the cows and cars did not mix well. The glorious old days of the cows coming down, the celebration of a good year on the high meadows, the feeling of jubilation is gone. The dung left on the roads by all the cows is now a nuisance. You have to be careful were you drive, this stuff is all over. You do not want to slip on this goo with your motorcycle tires.
Gone, too is the sense of beauty, it seems. All is business; all is a striving after money. I did not get that feeling in the French part of Switzerland. Here I felt that wine is still the driving force; there is a joie de vivre and life comes before money. In the east it was the other way around.
Carol and I rode a few major passes, the Flueelapass, Klausenpass and the Sustenpass. Beautiful riding with the usual switchbacks and riding above the tree line. It was cool but not cold. The weather was wonderful and we were extremely lucky that we had no rain. We stopped for lunch and it rained. It starts to rain lightly in this valley but we get into a tunnel and when we pop out the other side, no rain, and beautiful sunshine. We must be protected somehow, isolated from getting wet.
Our feelings start to change now, we only have about 10 days before leaving for Toronto and we are kind of mellow. We ride without a target, just drifting about. Will I visit Switzerland again? Yes, I am sure. Switzerland is a wonderful country in general, the areas we rode through, the Eastern parts I will try to avoid next time around. I am partial to the French Alps and I find them wonderful and a great place to ride in too. Yes, I am sure I will be back here. I just need to stick to selected areas and not assume that all of Suisse is the romantic Heidi Mountain out of movie land. Life and modernity has changed Switzerland I need to change as well.

Passes

What did we know about passes when we left Ampezzo this morning? We left after a nice breakfast of croissants the owner of the Albergo baked fresh for us. We have perfect weather, 21 degrees and bright sunshine.
After a while we run into road work where the asphalt has been milled off the road surface and only the harsh grooves remain for us to ride over. Some areas are already tarred for new paving but the road is open for traffic. Signs warn us of debris on the surface, too. After riding through the tar (we could not do otherwise) we pick up small stones on our tires. This makes for a weird ride when going around curves. Not only do we get a strange wiggle sensation from the grooves milled into the road, but now we feel like we are riding with pop corn tires too
the road is carved into the mountain side with twist and turns.
Paseo de Mauria is the first section for the day and a hard section to ride. We thought the road was fairly straight, judging from the map. But we get through it and are looking for a little relief with a straight section. No such thing today.
The next Pass is Falzaregopass and it is like a screw driver. I remember one curve in particular. A right hander, tight, first gear and as soon as I made the right turn, the road climbed immediately after the turn. It had kind of a bump in the road, right after a sharp turn. Only with lots of gas did I make this turn.
Next was the Pordoi Joch, another beauty. Carol and I just looked at each other and you could tell we were both not happy with so many of the twists. These constant hard sections will wear you out. Your arms hurt, your shoulders cramp up, your neck is strained from twisting your head all away around all day. And yet, here comes the Sella Joch.
It is now about 2.40 in the afternoon and with the warm sun, the bright light, the high elevations, and the constant strain on our nerves we are worn out. We have had it for the day. There was no lunch today, just water breaks and this town Wolkenstein has so many hotels that we will find one with a Wi-Fi someplace. We call a few hotels from a telephone board set up by the town, but no luck. We stop at 4 ort 5 places to just walk in but no internet. We wait for the Information Booth to open at 3 pm and they do help in printing out a list of hotels with Wi-Fi and we call all of them. No luck, they have no Wi-Fi, they might get some down the road, but they don’t have it yet. It is now 5 pm and we have had it. Back to the first place we found which looked clean and had a room and just breakfast. We took a room here.
Today we feel like we got beaten up by the mountains and then again by our hotel search. The roads got to us. We did everything right, nothing bad happened but we are bushed. These passes are something else, they don’t quit. They keep on coming up on you and twist and twist and so on. No mercy here, ride or else. There is no way out, we must ride out of these mountains even though we will land in other sections of the Alps but tomorrow is another day