20 000 mile review of the Royal Enfield Himalayan BS4

20 000 mile review of the Royal Enfield Himalayan BS4

Introduction

I first bought a Himalayan for a trip to South America in early 2020. I’d been looking for a cheap, smallish and simple bike that I could reach the ground from with my feet while sitting on it. It soon became apparent that such bikes were rare, and before long I narrowed the search down to one bike, the Royal Enfield Himalayan. A few weeks later I went to London to buy a second hand Himalayan from a Polish plumber. On the way back to Manchester, I suffered what turned out to be the only puncture I ever had on this bike. The chain was shot too, and the bike had a few scratches, but I’d got it for a very good price, so I wasn’t complaining. The bike had 7000 miles when I bought it, and finished my most recent trip (which unfortunately turned out to be this particular motorcycle’s last adventure) with approximately 24 000 miles on it- the clock said 19000, but much of my South American trip was done with the odometer broken. I added a few bits and shipped the bike to Buenos Aires, and set off on my first (and longest) offroad  motorcycle adventure for more than 30 years. For the previous 6 years I’d been riding a Harley.

I decided to combine this review with a list of spares etc I took on the recent trip I did to Morocco with Adrian Rose, a recent convert to adventure motorcycling who still refuses to be called a biker and who has a serious Lycra fetish (he’s a keen cyclist and I took the piss out of him as much as he did me for being a ‘biker’). I’ve also included here a few of my thoughts on adventure motorcycling in general- if you’re only interested in the bike, you can skip the last bit.

Background

My recent trip to Morocco was my second long trip on the Himalayan. The first trip was to South America in early 2020, when I covered about 6500 miles in Argentina and Chile over two months, about 1500 of those miles on dirt. I wrote a review of the bike after the trip, though shortly after that I had to replace the cylinder head, barrel and piston as the threads had pulled out of the cylinder head bolts while in Argentina. This was a known issue on early Himalayans. The cylinder head was also slightly warped, probably the result of thrashing the bike for up to 10 hours a day in temperatures up to 40 degrees in central Argentina, and the valve guides were burnt. I had a few oil seeps, but the bike kept going. Towards the end of my trip, the bolt holding the gear lever on fell out, resulting in a bodged repair by a lorry mechanic on the side of the road. This repair worked for the rest of the trip, and in fact I didn’t change it until two months after I got back to the UK. I blame myself for the gear linkage falling off- although I regularly checked the bike for loose bolts on the trip, finding several that needed tightening, I’d not checked the gear lever.

About 18 months ago I fitted a Tec cam, which changed the bike’s performance far more dramatically than I expected. I then fitted a 16 tooth front sprocket to enable faster cruising speeds on tarmac. My logic in doing this was to use the extra power to speed the bike up a bit, and I was very happy with the result-The Himalayan was my primary means of transport, and I rode to work on motorways. However, I’d not taken the bike offroad except for a few green lanes since fitting the 16t sprocket. Morocco would show whether this was going to work offroad. I changed the headstock bearings, which were shot, and the bearings on the shock linkages.  As a precaution, I also changed the wheel bearings a week before setting off to Morocco, though the old ones were actually still in pretty good condition. I also bought a booster plug from Roalde Ralfe, which cured the occasional stalling issue while warming up the engine. Adrian, who I met just 3 weeks before the trip, bought a second hand Himalayan with 600 miles on the clock from Bolton Motorcycles. He also fitted a Tec cam and 16t sprocket before our trip. When we set off, my bike had 14000 miles on the clock, although true mileage was closer to 19000- the odometer had packed up fairly early on during my South American trip.

 

Modifications

Tec cam-As already mentioned, both our bikes had the Tec cam fitted. I fitted mine myself, accompanied by much swearing as is usual when I’m working on motorcycles. I have a tendency to lose tools that were in my hand just moments earlier. I couldn’t fit the locking pin Tec provided, even after putting it in the freezer, so I used the one from the original cam. I understand that their cam now comes with the pin fitted. In my mind, fitting a cam is an essential upgrade to the Himalayan- it increases torque and power, this extra power especially noticeable at the higher end of the rev range. Along with the cam, we both also had DNA air filters fitted.

Lextek exhaust– I fitted this after my South American trip. It shaves 2.2kg off the bikes weight, is smaller and thus less likely to burn your soft luggage, and I think it sounds good too. Adrian’s bike still had the stock exhaust.

16 tooth front sprocket– this enabled relaxed cruising on long stretches at 65mph with the revs below 5000rpm. Overall pulling power and acceleration imo remains about the same as a stock bike with the standard sprocket, though second gear sometimes feels a bit tall, especially in sand.

INNOVV Power Hub –Spotlights, heated grips and USB port are wired through this. It switches off all ancillaries 10 seconds after the ignition is switched off, and delays power to them for 10 seconds after the ignition is switched on.

Oxford Adventure heated grips– Again, these were fitted before my first trip. To me they are essential, and I ended up having them on more often than not on the trip. In the first two weeks, the temperature didn’t get above 10 degrees, and we ended up riding in temperatures down to -5 Centigrade, on three occasions riding in snow. Adrian didn’t fit heated grips, but then he’s used to riding mountain bikes in crap weather and thinks wearing Lycra is cool.

Spotlights- Bought from eBay. They’re very bright

Dual USB port – I paid less than 10 pounds of eBay for this in 2019. It has two ports, a voltage meter and temperature gauge. It was still working when the bike got written off a few weeks ago.

ABS Switch– I also fitted this before my South American trip. It wasn’t used as much in  Morocco, but I was still glad I’d fitted it. Adrian didn’t bother fitting one, and didn’t have any issues.

Givi engine guards- I’d fitted these before my trip to South America. I like these guards as they have a bar that connects both sides of the guards using a bar through the frame. I suspect these have saved the engine casings from damage several times when dropping the bike on rocks.

Handguards– Again, these were on the bike since before my first trip. They were bought from CooperB. In spite of having no metal in them, they’ve withstood many drops without getting damaged. They can also easily be increased in size for winter riding using two cut down 2 litre Tesco plastic milk bottles and a couple of cable ties. They finally met their end when I got hit by a car a few weeks ago, but the entire bike was a write-off so I don’t fault them for that- only a small chunk of one handguard broke off.

Heel Guard– This was also bought from CooperB. It protects the rear brake master cylinder, and is in my mind an essential upgrade, especially if you ride offroad.

Front mudguard raisers– Bought from CooperB. Another essential mod if you’re riding offroad. These raise the front mudguard so that mud doesn’t jam up the wheel when riding in the sticky stuff.

Fuel cans– I had the two 3 litre cans I’d used in South America fitted. They turned out to be unnecessary for the trip to Morocco. One of them disappeared on a rough track somewhere in the desert. I’d not noticed it falling off, as I was standing on the pegs most of the day.

Tyres– Once again, I opted for Mitas E-07’s, which served me so well in South America. Adrian fitted the same tyres just before we left at my insistence- his bike was fitted with road-biased tyres when he bought the bike. The Mitas tyres are very good on most surfaces, but they’re not great in  thick mud or heavy sand, especially when the bike is loaded. They are, however, surprisingly good on wet tarmac. Once again, no punctures on the entire trip, on either bike. These tyres are very strong, which does however make removing them quite difficult. However, on this trip they wore out far faster than expected, much quicker than on my South American trip. After the 5000 miles we covered, both rear tyres were worn out and the front tyres probably had about another 1000 miles in them. I put this extra wear down to the long ride through Portugal on the way down on a never-ending series of twisties and the many rough rocky roads we rode on in Morocco. Adrian won’t go anywhere unless the road has lots of squiggles on the map. If I was going to the desert again, I would probably fit knobblies, either Mitas E09’s or Motoz RallZ. There is a company that regularly ships stuff from the UK to Morocco, so I’d send they knobblies down there and ride home on them afterwards. For any trip not involving heavy sand, I’d stick with the Mitas E07’s.

Luggage

Panniers

I used the same Lomo panniers that served me so well in South America. These panniers really are great value for money. My only criticism of them is that their stiffness is very dependent on temperature- on a hot day, they become quite soft, but when the temperature is around zero, they become stiff and can be difficult to roll closed, especially if the panniers are full. I would imagine this is common to all roll-closure soft panniers.

Tank Bag-In South America I’d used a Lomo tankbag, but I found it too big, and a bit of faff to get my camera out of due to the roll-closure. For Morocco, I bought an Enduristan Sandstorm 4H tankbag from Sportsbikeshop. Although fitting the front strap was a bit difficult and it’s too long, I really like this bag. It is completely waterproof, surviving a whole day’s riding in torrential rain without letting in a single drop of water. For me, this is essential, as I had two cameras and a couple of lenses with me. It also has a handy pouch velcroed to the inside for keeping your documents, and a removable map pocket fitted to the top of the bag with velcro. Although the bag is quite large, it didn’t ever get in my way. I’ll be modifying the front straps before my next trip though.

Top bag- A 40 litre dry bag that Lomo kindly donated for my South American trip. This bag has been used on both my adventures, at a dozen or so bike rallies and is the bag I use to put my bike gear in when I go to work. I’m amazed that it is still completely waterproof and hasn’t worn through anywhere. Amazing value for money if you’re looking for a simple, hard-wearing and completely waterproof bag.

Rok Straps- These are quite simply the best luggage straps ever invented. Easy to fit, easy to tighten, durable and simple, I’ll never buy anything else. Two of them kept my top bag secure on the roughest terrain, and they are also very handy for lifting the rear wheel when you’re putting it back on- simply put one over the rear seat and through the rim, then tighten it to lift the wheel.

Spares

Tubes etc– We took one front and one rear tube, a puncture repair kit and I had a Motopressor pump, the same one I used in South America. Once again, it got a bit of crud in it and I had to strip it down and clean it. I won’t be taking this pump again. Adrian had a small bicycle pump, and he could reinflate his tyres after leaving a sandy section as quick as I could get my pump out, connect it and inflate the tyres. I’ll be buying one for my next trip. I also packed a set of three tyre levers. I find it much easier removing tyres with three levers than two. We didn’t have any punctures on the entire trip, which is quite amazing considering the rocky tracks we were often riding on.

Clutch– The only spare part used on the entire trip apart from the oil filter. A spare clutch doesn’t weigh much, so I’ll probably take one on my next trip too.

Cables– I had a spare clutch cable plus a kit for making up new throttle or clutch cables.

Fuses

JB Weld- In my opinion an absolute essential on any long trip. For those unfamiliar with this product, it is a 2 part metal epoxy that can be used to fix metal. It can be sanded or filed after it’s dried. I also carry a piece of steel mesh to use with it on any major repairs. I’ve seen a big block V8 with a hole in the crankcase that was repaired with JB Weld and steel mesh, and it had been repaired over a year earlier and was still going strong. JB Weld will also glue anything together- in South America I repaired a hole in my air mattress with it, and the repair is still holding nearly 3 years later. Adrian also used it on our recent trip to repair the selfie stick he used to mount his GoPro on the bike.

Duct tape– This got used several times. Don’t leave home without it.

Cable ties– always handy to have some of these in different sizes. My number plate light ended up being held on by one.

Brake and clutch levers– I had them anyway, so chucked them in with the spares. They weigh next to nothing, but it was probably pointless taking them.

Oil Filter– we both changed our oil while in Morocco

Oil– I took one litre, used 100ml or so.

Air Filter– We both had DNA filters fitted, so I took a small can of filter oil. For cleaning filters, I found a great tip online about using stain remover mixed with soda water. We couldn’t find stain remover, so used body wash mixed with soda water instead. It worked really well.

Tools

Before a trip, I take all the tools off the bike before doing a full service. I then put all the tools I use servicing it to one side. Then I check the tightness of all the fasteners, bolts etc, and add those tools to the pile. I don’t take a ratchet for the sockets, I had one pack up on me once, so I just take a bar. The screwdriver in the tools provided with the bike is a bit crap so I added a screwdriver with a selection of bits. I also take a small mole wrench and Knipex pliers. Knipex pliers are far easier to use than an adjustable wrench and less likely to strip a nut. They tend to be my most used tool. Don’t forget to check you’ve got the wheel spanners and extension in the bike’s own toolkit. All my tools fit in a roll inside the tube mounted to the left pannier rail.

 

Mechanical issues-.We had two issues on the trip, both on my bike.

My front wheel was a bit buckled before we left, and I’d not managed to get it straightened as I’d had difficulty finding anyone to do it in time. On a particularly rough track in Portugal, I hit a rock and the wheel got bent even more. We found a mechanic in a village who straightened it on the bike by eye, and did an amazing job. It took him less than ten minutes. The boss of the garage wouldn’t accept payment.

The other issue was burning out my clutch in the desert. I was being careful not to ride the clutch, but I guess the 20 000 miles on the bike and all the offroad I’d done in South America had probably not helped. I’d brought a spare clutch with me, and paid a mechanic to fit it in a village in the desert. He’d never worked on a Himalayan before, but after fixing the bike told me he could have fixed it even if I hadn’t had new clutch plates.

Overall impressions

I loved the Himalayan anyway, and nothing from this trip has changed my mind. I’m quite short, with a 29 inch inside leg, so I find most adventure bikes too tall. I’m not an expert offroad, and prefer to be able to reach the ground- I can have both feet flat on the ground on the Himalayan. I also find the bike very comfortable for long distance riding, albeit it’s slower than the larger adventure bikes. Handling is excellent, both on and off road. Off road, it reminds me of an old Land Rover; it’s not as fast as the competition, but it will go absolutely anywhere. It’s an easy bike to work on and simple to maintain. Any roadside mechanic would be able to work on it. Overall, it’s been a very reliable bike. 

Conclusions and lessons learned

The Himalayan is a very capable motorcycle. It’s cheap, comfortable, handles very well and will go anywhere. As already mentioned, it’s been very reliable- The only time I’ve got stuck somewhere was on this recent trip when the clutch went. This could have happened on any bike. However, I was a bit surprised to find on returning from Morocco that the headstock bearings had gone again. The steering had started stiffening up towards the end of the trip, and sure enough the bearings needed replacing again. The upper bearing looked like new, but the lower bearing was rusted and starting to break up. I believe that someone sells upgraded bearing seals, so if anyone reading this knows where I can get some, please leave a note in the comments. I’ve ridden the Himalayan year round in the UK for three years, as well as the two longer trips I’ve done since buying the bike. It’s great in traffic as well as on dirt- the high seating position is ideal when you’re weaving through lines of traffic. I don’t mind getting salt on it as much as I do my Harley; I’ve always treated it with ACF 50 in the winter and rinse it off regularly with a hosepipe. The only rust I’ve found has been on the pannier rails.

The bike handles really well and has no vices that I’ve found. Adrian had never ridden offroad before, and hadn’t ridden a motorcycle for 30 years before this trip, but he had no issues on any of the terrain we rode on except initially in sand. His extensive mountain biking experience obviously helped, and also explained why initially he struggled a bit in sand- I don’t think mountain bikers venture into sand too often. However, I came off several times too. It’s part and parcel of adventure riding. Adrian was riding as fast as me on rough trails almost immediately. The bike inspires confidence, not that Adrian needed it- he’s a Grade A nutter who doesn’t know the meaning of can’t.

Some people complain about the brakes on the Himalayan, but my other bike is a Harley. The front brake needs a good squeeze sometimes, but the brakes are perfectly adequate.The Himalayan is easy to work on, parts are cheap, and it’s low enough that shorter riders can reach the ground with being on tiptoes. If the worst came to the worst and you had to abandon the bike somewhere, you’d not be out of pocket anywhere near as much as with more expensive bikes. You’re less worried about scratching it or getting it filthy. My bike has ended up with scratched paint, a badly dented bash plate, cable ties holding stuff on, but who cares? The Himalayan doesn’t have lots of electronics that can go wrong and is simple enough that any competent bike mechanic will instantly know how to pull it to bits. The bike also doesn’t attract the wrong sort of attention- I’ve been asked several times what it is, and how old it is, but no-one has ever asked me how much it cost. When travelling, personally I prefer to be on a bike that doesn’t advertise my relative (to the locals) wealth. 

My only criticism of the Himalayan, apart from the issue with the headstock bearings, is that it is a bit heavy. At 182kg,  I wish it was 20kg lighter, but it’s still easy enough to lift on your own if you use the right technique. It’s lighter than a Tenere or Africa Twin, and not as top-heavy due to it’s lower stance. Some people moan about it’s lack of top speed, but if you’re travelling at 75mph on a motorway, are you really on an adventure? For a trip to Morocco riding through Spain from Santander, you’ll probably lose 4 hours on the time it would take on a larger capacity adventure bike. I can live with that. We took back-roads, though I appreciate that not everyone has the time available for that luxury.

Our biggest mistake was taking camping gear. That’s down to me. Yeah, I know, some people told me not to bother before I left and I didn’t listen to them. You were right. We only camped for one night on the entire trip. Most of the time it was too cold, wet or windy to contemplate putting up a tent. I’ve spent a lot of time in Morocco in the past, my kids are half Moroccan, but I hadn’t been there for nearly 20 years. The country has changed, and for the better. The police don’t stop you for bribes any more. There’s plenty of cheap auberges and riads available, and competition means that the quality and prices are generally very good. They all love you putting reviews on Google Maps, so it’s very easy to find accommodation. Only one place was full on the entire trip. So why am I mentioning camping gear in a review about the bike? Because the extra weight of the camping gear proved to be an Achilles heel for the Himalayan, on 50/50 tyres, in sand. We ended up paying someone to take our luggage three hundred km through the desert, but the additional bonus with that was that they knew all the detours round particularly bad patches of sand etc. We would have really struggled with fully loaded bikes, especially without knobblies. If I was going out into the Sahara again (and I may be going again next year), I’d get a guide on his 50cc Chinese Docker motorcycle to accompany me, and I definitely wouldn’t be taking any camping gear. I’d also fit knobblies, even though with the bikes unloaded getting though the sand was much easier.

Postscript

Two weeks after getting back from Morocco, I was hit by a car pulling out of a side street in Bolton. I’d stopped before the impact, but the guy obviously never even saw me, as he was still accelerating when he hit me. To add insult to injury, while moving his car after the accident, he ran over the front wheel. Luckily I wasn’t injured apart from sprained thumbs and bruised and sore wrists. The bike was a write-off. I bought it back from the insurance and Bolton Motorcycles kindly removed some of the bits before sending it to a scrapyard who paid the same amount I’d paid the insurance. I’m gutted that a bike that I’ve done so much on, that took me through Argentina, Chile, Portugal, Morocco and Spain, as well as serving as my main transport for three and a half years is now a write-off, though as it was classified as category N, it may end up on the road again. I don’t have the time or the space to fix it myself. I had a quick think about what to get next. It didn’t take long. I’ve just bought another Himalayan from Alan, an old friend of mine. It’s the same colour as my old bike but with only 4000 miles on the clock, and its never been ridden offroad. It’s got the Hitchcock’s 462cc conversion on it, and Alan is fitting a Tec cam to it for me. Hopefully I’ll pick it up in a week or so. I can’t wait.

Often the hardest part about planning a trip is making the decision to go, and then committing to it. The rest is easy. We planned most of the route on the hoof- actually, Adrian planned most of it. He turned out to have quite a talent for finding remote roads full of snow, gravel or mud along with some incredible scenery. We never got to my original planned destination, a hole in the ground near the Mauritanian border, but I wasn’t really expecting to anyway. A destination is just a point to aim at to get you going as far as I am concerned. We weren’t keen on riding 1300km over flat terrain from what proved to be our furthest point south and west to get to it. I never reached my original destination in Argentina either, instead veering off into Chile to ride the Carreterra Austral to O’Higgins.

A few friends have asked me why I risk going on such long and potentially hazardous trips. What if something goes wrong? What if the bike gets damaged or breaks down and you can’t fix it? What if you have an accident? I think my accident in Bolton after covering nearly 12000 miles on foreign roads without incident proves the error in that thinking. One biker friend of mine recently told me that he’d never have the confidence to do a trip like the two I’ve done on my Himalayan. Why not, I asked him? I’m a 62 year old guy who’d not ridden offroad for 30 years before I went to South America at the age of 59. Adrian is a 60 year old guy with nerve damage that makes it difficult for him to get on the bike, and he’d never ridden offroad at all before we went to Morocco. Yet we had an amazing trip, on all types of roads. There’s nothing special about us, we’re not expert riders, we’re just two old farts who decided to do something extraordinary. And the trip was extraordinary- we saw so much amazing scenery, rode so many incredible roads and had such a good time that we’re both already thinking about where to go next. Adrian is looking at Sweden and Canada, I’m looking at South East Asia and maybe Morocco again. For the next two years I’m restricted to winter trips only, due to work.

I hope one day I get to do another trip with Adrian; he turned out to be the best riding companion I could have hoped for. Before I met him, I was planning on going to Morocco solo, as I did to South America. Now I’m glad Adrian turned up at my boat one day in December, to my utter horror clad completely in Lycra, to ask me about the Himalayan. He’d been put in touch with me by Bolton Motorcycles after he’d wandered in to look at bikes to pass some time, and his eye had been caught by the Himalayan.

Finally, if any of you have been dreaming about a long trip but have some reservations, just remember this- whether you think you can or you think you can’t, you’ll end up proving yourself correct.

I am currently writing a book about the trip, which should be out later this year.

 

Men and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Men and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Lately I’ve been hearing a buzzing sound between 2-3000rpm while riding my Himalayan. It’s been getting gradually worse, and I’m using the bike every day to go to work. At first I thought it was the new windscreen I fitted- it’s off a later model, and I had to bodge a bracket from a bit of aluminium. However, grabbing the windscreen while riding made no difference to the noise. Further investigation showed I couldn’t replicate the noise with the bike in neutral, so I started thinking it might be the front sprocket, which I know is worn. I’ve got a new chain and sprockets on order.

The other night, night on my way to work, I started really worrying about it. What if it’s not the sprocket, I wonder? What else could it be? Is there an issue with the engine? I arrive at work and forget about it for the night. It ends up being a late one, and I leave work at 5 am. On the way home, the noise suddenly gets much worse. Bloody hell, it’s the camchain, I think. I’ve knackered something when I put the new cam in. Maybe I didn’t tighten the bolts on the camchain sprocket properly? Perhaps I shouldn’t have reused that tab washer? Or perhaps I’ve installed the camchain tensioner incorrectly? Images flash into my mind of the camchain flapping around, slipping a couple of teeth, a valve hitting a piston. The rear wheel would probably lock up as the engine seizes, and if I don’t pull the clutch in quick enough, I’ll finally get to try out my airbag vest. Assuming the best, I’ll be stuck on the M60 just before rush hour.

Gingerly, I ride the rest of the way home trying to avoid the rpm range where the buzzing occurs. It’s too early to have a good listen to the engine while stationary, I don’t want to wake up the neighbours, so I put the bike in the garage and go to bed. In the afternoon, I do a bit of online research, which seems to confirm my fears. I get the tools out, and am just about to take the camchain tensioner off, resigned to the idea that I’ll probably having to remove the tank and cylinder head too, when I think why not put the bike on the centre stand, run it in gear, and have another listen? I wheel the bike out of the garage, put it on the centre stand, start it and put it in second gear. The noise is there, really loud without a slipstream muffling it. I take the bike out of gear, and the noise continues- for the first time, it’s also there with the bike running in neutral, so it’s definitely not the sprocket. Being able to listen to the noise from different directions rather than from the saddle while riding, it soon becomes obvious that the buzzing isn’t coming from the engine, but somewhere around the headstock. I try pressing the clocks, pulling the windscreen, but the noise is still there. Frustrated, I ask my wife to come out and have a listen. After a few seconds, she grabs the phone mount, and the noise stops. It seems an harmonic vibration was turning the phone mount into a tuning fork, but without any visible vibration. Relieved, and feeling rather stupid, I push the bike back into the garage. Thoughts turn to the Harley, which needs a service, and the rear caliper needs looking at, the pads aren’t wearing evenly. I’m sure the gearbox sounded a bit noisier than usual last time I rode it, too…..I wonder what that could be?

Feb 8- RP71 & RN40

Feb 8- RP71 & RN40
8 Feb 2020
Another lazy start. Two local guys offered me some mate tea this morning, which I gratefully accepted. Then I just couldn’t pull myself from the view. I sat by the lake shore for ages, just gazing at the mountains.  Eventually I pulled myself away, and packed up. I left the campsite around midday. I had to ride up a steep slope to get to the road, and thought at one point I was going to come off the bike. The road was bizarre, a mix of nice flat bits, interspersed with sections of loose gravel, rocky bits, stretches of washboard.
Scenery was lakes, mountains, pine trees. Scotland on steroids, with dirt roads. I checked out a couple of the paid campsites, just out of interest. None of them had a patch on the free one I had stayed in.
The weather was nice, some clouds around, but I had sunshine most of the way through the park. Shortly after leaving the park, I spotted a Himalayan beside the road. I stopped, and was even more surprised when the owner turned out to be a fellow Brit. What are the chances of that, on an obscure dirt road in Argentina?
Jack (Britonabike).
Jack (Britonabike) was on his way to El Bolsón, so we rode together to Epuyen, from where I was then heading to Lago Puelo, on the recommendation of a couple I had met in the campsite on Lago Futalaufquen.  It was a nice ride. Shortly before Epuyen, we rejoined Ruta 40, and tarmac. We on the edge of Epuyen at a restaurant, where a group of bikers on street bikes were sitting outside eating. For the first time on the trip, bikers completely ignored me.  Jack had some accomodation booked at El Bolson, so wanted to carry on immediately. I needed petrol.  After saying goodbye to Jack, I headed into the village to find a gas station.  It took me a while to find it, and turned out to be back near where I had said goodbye to Jack. I called Jackie, grabbed a coffee, and then set out to Lago Puelo.
Not all recommendations work out. Lago Puelo was a tourist trap. There was a lot of traffic, and lots of people wandering around eating ice cream.  iOverlander recommended a campsite near the lake. It cost 450 pesos, very expensive imo. It’s a bit like like Butlins; you have to wear a wristband. Just outside the campsite, about 500 cars were parked, so I knew it wasn’t going to be a nice little remote camp. At least it had a sign saying no music after midnight. The campsite was huge, so I rode around a while looking for a quiet spot. The vast majority of people seemed to be camping nearer the entrance, where there were picnic tables and barbecue pits dotted around under the trees. It was quieter towards the lake. I found  a secluded spot under some trees, with an electrical hookup. An Argentinian guy and his Columbian girlfriend were my neighbours, and invited me for a coffee. After a chat and excellent coffee, I set up my tent. I was 50 metres from the lake shore, but couldn’t see it due to a line of tall trees. Just as well, because when I took a walk, I discovered that, although the beach was very beautiful, it was jam-packed with people. I should have learned my lesson by now. Avoid public campsites in Argentina on the weekends.  I went for a shower, and on the way back met two bikers from Rosario, Jesus and Joaquin. They invited me to come back later for homemade pizza, cooked over a campfire.
Lago Puelo
Lago Puelo
I got the drone out, and flew it above the trees to get a bit of footage of the lake. Then I took a walk down to the shore, on a path through a gate  with a sign saying the gate shut at sunset. Back at the tent, I picked up the litre of cheap wine I had bought on the way here, and joined Jesus and Joaquin for pizza. The food was excellent, and they were great company.  We chatted about our respective journeys, swapping funny stories from the road. I told them about the incident with the Malvinas veteran at San Antionio de los Cobres, which they found really amusing, though then apologised for the guys behaviour. I said it was the only time I’d had any hassle for being English, but that I also sometimes told people I was South African. We drank my wine and several beers, talking in a mixture of bad English I my even worse Spanish. I told them that one of the phrases that I kept remembering was “Yo bebe leche”, which means “I drink milk”. They thought this was hilarious, and suggested I kept it to myself. They told me they did two long trips every year, and also did camping trips with their wives regularly. They invited me to come and stay with them if I passed Rosarion on the way back to Buenos Aires, but it was unlikely I’d be going that way. I told them I was heading to Lago Roca, and they told me that the road was really bad. They’d been down it a bit before deciding it would wreck their bikes. I would see tomorrow. 
Back at my tent, some of the typical Saturday night Argentine camping fraternity also turned up, one lot in a truck blasting the dreadful Argentinian disco/salsa music that seems so popular. Unfortunately, for this subsection of the camping fraternity, playing really crap music really loud all night is how you enjoy the countryside. They were still at it at 1am. So much for the sign saying no music after midnight. Eventually, I fell asleep to the strains of Ricky Martin singing La Vida Loca. 
Another fairly short day or riding: 130km

Feb 5: RN40 & RP259

Feb 5: RN40 & RP259
Feb 5 2020
Although last night went on later than expected, I got a good sleep. Tim leaving around 8am woke me up, but I ended up getting another hours sleep. There was frost all over the bike, and the bed looked far more inviting. I took a look at the map, trying to decide which direction to go. Eventually, I decided to head to Esquel, and Parqes dos Alerces.  I fancied a bit of lakeside camping.  After packing my bike, I ended up leaving around 11am, later than I had intended.  Google Maps took me 7 km in the wrong direction, just to make a U turn in a dead little village called Jose de San Martin, where the road I had arrived on appeared to end.
Scenery back on Ruta 40 was semi-arid rolling hills, reminding me of Rannoch moor with the complete overcast. Temperature was 8 degrees and the intermittent problem with my heated grips continued. A pleasant ride though. I stopped in Tecka to get fuel and a Milanesa sandwich. Tecka is in a small gorge, an oasis of green in the barren hills of Chubut province.
More hills. An idiot in a car overtaking towards me nearly forced me off the road. I gave him what I think is a fairly universal signal, and the truck he was also overtaking blared it’s disapproval. A bit further on I saw a parked motorcycle, so pulled over.  The bike had an improbably large top-box, and was ridden by Richard, a 70 year old Frenchman on an Africa Twin. Like me, he was meeting his wife in a week, though further south. He didn’t really like his bike. He couldn’t pick it up, and had dropped it a couple of times. 
Richard and his improbably large top-box
I was glad of the manageable weight of the Himalayan. We had a quick chat, and shortly afterwards I turned off Ruta 40 onto the RN259, and, as has happened so many times here, the scenery and climate instantly changed. Now it was green, with trees, livestock, valleys, mountains with snow on them. Temperature shot up to 18 degrees. Ten minutes later I was in Esquel, a tentative stopping point for the day, the point I had aimed for. It looked a bit of a shithole.
Steam locomotive in Esquel
It seems geared towards winter skiing and like all ski resorts, has a forlorn feel in the summer. I found a little shop run by a father and son, a small grocers, where I recharged my Argentinian sim card, and also changed some dollars. I then carried on to Trevelin, one of the several towns around here where people speak Welsh. It looks a bit Welsh. iOverlander once again found me a great campsite, El Chacay, on what looks like a small farm on the edge of town.
Campsite in Trevelin
Fancying steak for dinner I walked to the nearest shop. I bought an onion and some tomatoes in a small grocery, then a steak in a butchers, and as I came out of the butchers I heard accordion music.
It was a small bar, a real spit and sawdust place with very little furniture, and 5 old guys drinking. One guy was playing a guitar and singing, and it was the barman on the accordion. I bought a litre of beer and introduced myself. They all seemed really happy I had dropped in. As so many people do here, once it was clear I knew no Spanish, they carried on talking to me as if I was fluent. Google translate amused them all greatly The music was excellent, and I videoed a bit.  
Back at the campsite, I cooked up potatoes with onions and tomato, and fried the steak. To my surprise, it was really tough. Still a good meal though. I flew the drone for a bit, before turning in for the night. Another great day on the road,  though a fairly shot one; I’d only covered 205km. 
Rain was forecast for the next day, so I decided to take a day off.  I needed to do some bike maintenance and wash some clothes.  Then it’s a few days in the Parque Nacional de Alerces before heading north to meet Jackie.
Sunset in Trevelin

 

 

 

Feb 4: RN40

Feb 4: RN40

Feb 4 2020

Breakfast was excellent, the best I’d had on the trip so far. Ham and cheese, in addition to the normal bread with dulce de leche (basically caramelised condensed milk) and jam. I even had yoghurt. Then a quick stop to buy another sticker and a fridge magnet before setting off for the 359 km to Gobernador Costa. I’d found Perito Merino overall a strange place. On the street, people said hello; In the shops, they seemed a bit surly. Apparently, they get tourists turning up all the time, thinking they are at the Perito Morino glacier, which is miles away. One of the waiters told me at breakfast that sometimes they even try and blame the residents of the town for daring to live in a place with the same name. Before I left, I went through my regular bolt-tightening procedure. I’ve not really mentioned the basic maintenance I carried out on the bike during the trip. The Himalayan, has a long-stroke thumper engine, and I’m sure most big singles (in common with the big twins I normally ride) are subject to vibration. I was always finding things that needed tightening on the trip. Every time I camped, I got the spanners out and checked bolts all over the bike. It was often surprising what was loose; one day a sprocket bolt, another a bolt holding a pannier rack on. The bolts holding my USB port on the handlebars were a regular. Yet, strangely, the chain hardly ever needed adjustment. Later in the trip, a missed bolt would cause me some delay….

Ruta 40 was tarmac, all the way to Gobernador Costa.  It was deja-vu. Long straights, riding suspended between two vanishing points on opposite horizons. After some initial hills, it became the familiar slog through a semi-arid plan with few corners, albeit without the heat I experienced on the northern section; temperature varied between 13 and 8 degrees. The heated grips were working, so I was plenty warm enough, with thermals and my down jacket under my bike gear. The wind was still a factor, but a constant lean of about 10 degrees to the left was all that was needed. It was severely affecting fuel consumption though. It also got me idly wondering about whether I was wearing out the left side of my tyres.

Vanishing point

As I rode,  the sky got darker. I could see thunderstorms ahead, and I seemed to be heading for the worst of them, so I put my rain jacket and trousers on. Every time I thought I was about to get wet, a rare serendipitous corner would veer me away from the rain. Quite a bit of the road was wet, so I evidently timed it perfectly, if accidentally. I got a few drops once.

A sign warned warned of pothole for the next 50km, and there were plenty. Some of them were of bike-wrecking proportions at the speed I was riding, so I had to take care. I didn’t slow down, in fact I ended up giving the bike a bit more head. the road a bit more attention, weaving all over the road, picking the best lines. It brought some fun to an otherwise fairly monotonous road. The Andes were barely visible on the horizon, but it  really didn’t matter, the road was all. 

Suddenly the plain dropped into a gorge with a large river; the Rio Mayo gives the small town I found there I found there it’s name. At the fuel station I met three other bikers, a young guy on his own, and two older guys, all heading for Ushaia. A quick coffee, fill up, and then back to the road, which, with the heavy cloud and dull light, reminded me of bits of the Yorkshire moors. With 232 km to go, and a full tank, fuel wouldn’t be an issue, without even considering the spare 3 litres I had. But, back on the road, fuel was dropping quicker than expected. Although I was cruising at I guess (from the revs) about 60 mph, I watched with alarm as the fuel guage headed steadily for E. Not much I could do about it, unless I stumbled across a gas station. Soon afterwards, I did in fact come across a service station, but it had evidently been out of business for some time.

A long way to go for shit graffiti

The garage was covered in really crap graffiti, very incongruous in the middle of nowhere. I stopped for a break, and took some pictures. I wondered why a service station miles from anywhere would attract graffiti. Did the “artists” specifically drive out here to daub it’s walls, or was it perhaps a group of graffiti artists on there way somewhere else, who hadn’t been able to resist stopping for a bit of vandalism? 

I carried on, the wind now quite gusty, with always the never fulfilled promise of rain driving me onwards. An hour later, I found I was on reserve, and the last sign I had seen said it was 71 km to go. It also looked once again like I was about to ride into a huge thunderstorm. Surely my luck wasn’t go to hold out all day? I stopped to empty the Jerry can of fuel into the tank. It was only when I stopped that I realised quite how windy it actually was. The same wind, from the north-west, that I had had the day before. I accidentally dropped the inner part of the fuel can cap, and the wind snatched it away, to oblivion. I looked for it in vain for about 20 minutes, dropping bits of dead plant in an effort to work out which way it would have been blown. Eventually I gave up, and, finding a piece of  shredded truck tyre that I could probably cut a replacement from. I jammed it into the spout of the can and carried on.

The next sign I saw said 71km, again. I had seen distances actually increase on signs as you head towards somewhere on RN40, so I wasn’t overly surprised. Once again I was on reserve. Without an odometer or speedometer, and few signs, it’s easy to end up with no idea how far I have gone, as I can’t always see the phone in my tank bag, or if I can, it’s often gone into hibernation. Stopping to check the map would have just used more fuel as I accelerated back to cruising speed, so I just reverted to my old trick of pretending nothing was wrong, and carried on. Gradually the landscape became populated, with more Estancias, and got a bit greener. The previous sign must have actually said 21 km, because suddenly I arrived. I had not got wet. The wind had drastically reduced my range, with an extra 3 litres of fuel giving less range than just the tank on a calm day. Gobernador Costa is a small place, and all Wikipedia has to say about it is “Gobernador Costa (Chubut) is a village and municipality in Chubut Province in southern Argentina” I filled up with fuel at the YPF, then went on iOverlander to find somewhere to stay. With the municipal campsite apparently being a bit crap, it being cold, and with thunderstorms still lurking, I liked the idea of being indoors, so I ended up at an excellent little hostel with apartments.

Home for the night

The price was per room, with it being a 3 bed room, but I managed to knock 25% off. It was still very expensive, but the room was excellent, with a big duvet on the bed and a kettle. Shortly after I arrived, another biker, Tim, from Germany, turned up. Tim was on on a KTM, and he had just ridden from El Chalten, 590km south of here, including a particularly nasty 70km section of deep gravel. He is on a six week trip and shipped his bike from Germany. I suspect he rides very fast on dirt. In Germany he races a CBR600.

We decided to go and look for a restaurant. One seemed uninviting. Then we found a restaurant, mentioned on iOverlander, that was apparently a bit strange. It looked the part. Wooden, inside and out, and a fire, which was also the barbecue. An old guy came out of the kitchen and shouted at us in Spanish. Neither of us could speak it. I thought he was saying 9 O’clock. He seemed to be shooing us towards the door, but, still shouting, he pointed us to a table. We asked for Cerveja, and a litre and two glasses were brought. There was no offer, or indeed sign of, a menu. About ten minutes later, a waiter brought over a tureen of vegetable soup, and two bowls. OK. We ate the soup. It was very nice indeed. I had 3 helpings before the waiter whisked it away.

The restaurant with no menu
Tim

Next thing to arrive was two massive steaks, on the bone, with two eggs on each. Somehow he knew I liked it medium rare. In a separate bowl, a green salad. It was excellent, in fact, the best meal I have had in Argentina. In a restaurant with no menu, where you eat what you get given. I loved it. Tim told me more about his trip. He was trying to get in as many miles as he could in his 6 weeks. He wore loads of gear, leg braces, a neck brace, expensive jacket and trousers. He also wore motocross boots. He said it gave him a feeling of invincibility, and, as a consequence, he said he tended to ride much faster than he thought he probably should. After dinner, we walked back to the hostel. It had been a great day.

Tim was off to Bariloche in the morning. I thought of heading for Esquel, where a bunch of enterprising enthusiasts run a steam railway that apparently has 18 working locomotives. However, I was now more than halfway to Bariloche, and I wasn’t meeting Jackie for another week. Should I instead head across country to Trelew? Or slow it all down, and go to Trevelin, and the Parque Nacional los Alerces, which I’d heard was very beautiful, and had dirt roads? I’d decide in the morning.

Map of South America trip

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Jan 16

Jan 16

16th  Jan 2020

I ended up finding a welder on Google, and a very good one he was to. Its a small setup called Welder Salta, owned by Gustavo, who employs a master welder, Walter. Walter can apparently weld anything: aluminium, titanium, alloys. They have a huge Miller welder bought from the States. While refitting the frame, Walter noticed one of the threads was very stiff, so he retapped all the threads. It’s great seeing a true craftsman at work.

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Walter at work

Meanwhile Gustavo called Nico, a motorcycle guy he knew. After Walter had finished a most excellent job, it was round to Nico’s for the throttle, plus a look at the chain, which hasn’t been running evenly at idle on the side stand. Oh, and a squeaky back brake. The chain was just mud, and a rusty split link. Nico took the chain off, cleaned it, soaked it in WD40, then put it back on the bike with a new split link, and lubed it. The throttle had a small piece of plastic in it, no doubt from when I fitted the heated grips. Nico lubed the cable too, fixed the squeaky brake, and his assistant Marcelo noticed that one of the bolts on the tail tidy was gone, so fitted new bolts. So a very constructive day. Nico worked on the speedometer too, but it’s still intermittent. It needs a new cable.

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Nico

In the evening I visited an electronics shop to see if they could fix a microphone. Turned out they could, but it would take several hours, not the hour they told me. Plus, they don’t actually close at 8pm, as they said. The guy who fixed it (hopefully) was simultaneously fixing 2 phones, working on my microphone, and taking part in two different chats on two different computers. Eventually, at ten past nine, it was done. Not tried it yet.
With running around, I’ve not actually seen much of Salta. Strangely, I am not particularly bothered. Cities and towns were never a target for this trip. It’s isolation, remoteness, and scenery that I wanted. Strange, but I have felt no urge on this trip to immerse myself in local culture, or go to tourist attractions. Perhaps my job as a pilot has made me somewhat jaded when it comes to exploring built-up areas. I did take time for a wander around though. It rained quite heavily in the afternoon.

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Iglesia San Francisco

Dinner was at the same place as last night. Cutlets with mashed potatoes. We shall see. Today’s mileage- 17km
Tomorrow I head back to La Cuaranta, Ruta 40. I am really looking forward to getting back on the road.

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The hostel

Jan 15

Jan 15

15 Jan

A bit more adventure than I was looking for today. I set off for La Poma and the Abra del Acay pass at about 8am. The forecast wasn’t good but the weather looked ok. There had obviously been a fair bit of rain: the 10km stretch of tarmac before the turn off to Ruta 40 had large patches of mud that had been washed across the road. The road to the pass was ok, though still wet from the rain the day before.  I could see that two vehicles had passed before me. The road wound upwards, some hairpins being a bit tricky due to ruts, where water had evidently been flowing across the road. The views were pretty spectacular, but, once again, the stupid side-stand design on the Himalayan precluded the idea of stopping very often for photographs.

About halfway up the pass the road turned to mud. Slippery, greasy and with virtually no grip. I toyed with the idea of turning round but it would not have been possible. It was first gear all the way to the top, feet down, bike squirming all over the place. I was aware that dropping the bike in mud on a steep slope would not be fun. I came across the two vehicles whose tracks I had seen earlier, both of them stuck. I couldn’t stop to help, there was no way I could have parked the bike. Occasional dryer bits gave me false optimism. It was too muddy to stop anywhere for pictures, and I was getting concerned about the wheels caking up with mud. About halfway up, I passed two cyclists, pushing their bikes. I gave them a wave, amazed again at the hardcore nature of cycling this part of Ruta 40. These cyclists have my utmost respect.

 

Eventually I reached the top, took the obligatory snap and noticed that the weather was turning.  I was getting another altitude headache, hardly surprising at 4995m I guess, so stuffed another wad of coca leaves in my mouth before continuing. It looked like another storm was brewing. This place seems to make it’s own weather. The temperature had dropped to 5 degrees, and I seemed to be close the snow line. Ahead looked clear though. I started down the other side, the road in slightly better condition, though still with large stretches of mud.

Top of Abra del Acay

 

 

I guess I was most of the way down the pass when I came across a landslide, the road completely covered in a 30 degree slope of mud. Behind me, up the pass, the cute little cumulus cloud that had been there when I set off was now a full-blown thunderstorm. I did a quick evaluation: going back up was not an attractive option, I had a tent, about 3 days food and a water filter. If the worst came to the worst, I could find a sheltered spot and pitch the tent. I walked across the landslide, about 200 metres across. The other side looked ok. I unloaded the bike, rode it across, then came back for the luggage. I had just picked up the panniers when two 4×4’s turned up. The first was driven by Manuel, with his passenger Nasaren (not sure if that is spelled correctly) I asked them if they could take my luggage across, and they said they would take it all the way to La Poma if I wanted. Excellent! The tail rack on the bike (after market) had snapped in one place on my abortive attempt the day before, so a bit of respite would do it no harm. I still don’t know why it snapped as there was little weight on it.

A few km further on the road disappeared. It had been totally washed away in two places. Manuel thought a river crossing further on might be a problem too. No option but to go back over the pass . Shit. So I set off back over the pass in front. It was as bad as the way up from the other side, and got much worse when it started hailing heavily. The road was now a total morass. Probably the most taxing bit of riding I have ever done. I had the heated grips on, but was still getting cold hands. Rain ran down my neck,

Eventually I reached the bottom again and waited for Manuel and Nasaren. They took a while as they had picked up two German  cyclists I had seen earlier.

Landslide

 

End of the road

 

Manuel

There was no option now but to go to La Poma via Salta, along RN51, which turned out to be one of the most spectacular roads I have ever been on. New tarmac, with the occasional dirt culvert thrown in to keep you in your toes. After airing up the tyres and switching the ABS back, on I settled into enjoying the sweeping curves, bizarre rock formations, giant cactus and weird colours, from red to yellow to brownish green. Then my throttle stopped working. The heated grip had come unstuck, and inspection and disassembly by the roadside showed the throttle tube was jamned in the housing. I fiddled about with it, squirted some chain lube in, and it seemed ok. So I reassembled it and set off again. It worked fine for about 50km, then jammed at idle again. This time I removed the heated grip and left it off. I could feel it sticking occasionally, but by pushing it into the housing, I could free it up. Just before Salta, my phone decided to update it’s software. Then I found I didn’t have a signal, so couldn’t get Google Maps working again. It was getting hot, 32 degrees, and very humid. A big change from freezing my ass off a few hours earlier. I asked two guys on a scooter for directions, and eventually arrived in the outskirts of Salta. I pulled into a gas station to cool down and get Google Maps working again, then found a hostel on iOverlander before setting off into the city.

So now I am in Salta, in a strange hostel with no exterior windows. I have arranged a welder for 10am tomorrow (he wouldn’t do it this evening due to a thunderstorm), dropped off some laundry, and in the morning will completely disassemble the throttle and find out what’s wrong with it. Meanwhile, I have effectively lost two days, as I expected to be at the end of the dirt on the northern part of RN40, at Cafayate, tomorrow. I will re-evaluate in the morning. For now, another beer, and bed.

 

 

 

The Andes by Himalayan-Preparation

The Andes by Himalayan-Preparation

So it’s less than one week to go before I set off for Buenos Aires, and I’m getting nervous. Bike is packed and shipped, it’s New Years Eve, and hopefully I’ve finished all the preparation.

The plan? To ride Ruta 40 north to south, and then see how much time I have left for the Carreterra Austral in Chile. The bike is a second hand RE Himalayan I bought from a Polish builder in London, for a very good price. He was heading back to Poland after suffering a stroke, and wanted to sell the bike before he left. Poor guy was in tears when I picked it up.

The last few months have been spent getting the bike ready. Heated grips, a USB port, pannier racks, engine guards, spotlights, tool tube, fender raisers, and switch for the ABS, wired through the fuse box. I also installed an INNOV 2 Power Hub. I was going to do some videos, in fact started to do so, but most of it would have been me swearing and looking for tools I’d just put down. I will try and shoot a lot of video on the road though, I’ve even bought a drone. The bike has been serviced, courtesy of Bolton Motorcycles (thanks guys!) new tyres, chain and sprockets, and I’ve got probably far too many spares packed on the bike. Luggage is all from Lomo, a Acottish company better known for wetsuits, but now making a very reasonably priced range of motorcycle luggage. They gave me a free bag, so thanks to them too!

Tool tube
ABS Switch
Packed and ready to go

So why Ruta 40? Initially, I wanted to ride to Mongolia and Magadan this summer, but, faced with having to leave a very good job to do so, instead I took the company’s offer of two months off at half pay in the winter instead. Then I needed a destination; initially, I was gong to Peru, but the idea of riding around aimlessly in the mountains for two months somehow didn’t get me excited. I wanted a journey. So where else can you ride in the southern hemisphere during their summer? Africa, been there, done that (I grew up in Botswana) Oz is too hot. South America seemed to tick the right boxes, so Ruta 40 it is.

A quick introduction for anyone who doesn’t know me, I guess… I’m an old fart of 59, not ridden dirt bikes for decades (had an XR500 in Botswana for many years), and my travels in the last few years have been mainly on a Harley Davidson Softail Slim, on which I’ve ridden in Qatar, toured Jordan, and ridden the UK north to south on B roads. My wife Jackie and me have been to many bike rallies in the last three years, her on her Sportster and me on the Slim, and last year we had two fantastic weeks touring around and camping, the first week in the Lake District, the second one in the Peak District (a bit of a wet week, but great fun nonetheless). I’ve also toured Italy on a Harley Road Glide with a group of friends from Qatar. I commute year round on the Slim,though lately have been using the Himalayan. When I left Botswana, my plan was to ride the XR 500 to the UK, but events conspired to scupper that trip, and it’s remained an itch , getting more annoying with time, to the point that I now need to scratch while I can still reach it.

A few people have asked me why I’m shipping a bike there and back for two months of riding. Well, rental worked out about the same, and this way, I get to ride the bike I want, set it up how I want, and keep it afterwards. Buying wasn’t a practical solution, as the paperwork would have eaten into my available time.

The plan is to camp a much as possible, stopping at a hostel or hotel when I need a shower, clean clothes, and beer. I’ll update the ride report as and when I can; I’m not taking a computer, so everything will be done on my phone.

Gonna miss Jackie like crazy, but glad she understands why I’m going. The hardest part of the trip will be missing her.

I will post regularly here, hope you all enjoy following my trip!