detour

Lost in Transition: First Day Back Home

2010-06-02T14:20:00.001-07:00

humid air holds me close. sweet flora washed. bbq smoke with no where to go. nastalgia sets in. I am comfortable, disoriented, but comfortable. I do not have to think, to figure out my surroundings, or what the strangers are saying. with family, I am home.

a fresh start.

Florianoplis: 3rd and final round

2010-06-01T13:07:00.001-07:00

The bike was secure at the bottom floor of a Puerto Madero apartment building in Buenos Aires. Everything I came with, and then some, was crammed into my four bags. Moto gear, cameras, camping stuff, gifts, sunscreen, trinkets etc. I left BA and flew back to Florianopolis for the last time of the trip, to spend a few days with my pal, decompress and get my head straight for my life back home.

Anyone feeding me fresh Acai has my heart.

Daniel and I grabbing breakfast.

We went into the center of Florianopolis, on the other side of the island to pick up some things before I left Brasil. This mannequin did just the opposite of what most are designed to do. Strange indeed!

Heavy rains were hard to avoid in Florianopolis and staying out in the jungle meant crossing flooded, muddy roads just to get out to the main road.

I rented the cheapest vehicle I could find and was anything but gentle when plowing through knee high muddy water! play time.

the lagoon.

There happened to be a 6 Star International surf contest taking place at Praia Mole, which is the beach that my buddy works on, and where I spent the majority of my time during my summer days. Spotty weather, but a fun last day in of a 5 month trip!

Aritz Aranburu takes first place, and a big cardboard check.

Adios amigo! Obrigado para tudo!

22 hrs after leaving Pura Vida Florianopolis, Brasil I arrived in Raleigh, North Carolina to be greeted by my lovely mother and youngest sister! This moment, the instant when I get to hug my family, came across my mind many times while riding through questionable weather, terrain and situations. I just had to get home to see my little sister graduate from High School. Just get home. The thought of this moment kept me cool when I was wound up or overwhelmed, when I was nervous or doubtful. I pulled it off, and if feel so good.

Buenos Aires, back to Colonia, Uruguay and back to BA again...

2010-05-28T17:32:00.000-07:00

I crossed from Colonia, Uruguay to Buenos Aires via the Buquebus ferry without my moto, which was securely parked across the water. I met back up with my buddy who I stayed with while in BA during February.

More of the usual BA events, wine, steak and more tom foolery with the boys at my favorite spot, Miranda.

But the next day I was informed by my buddy in Uruguay that I was given the wrong paper when I entered the the country only allowing me 90 days for storage for the moto. I was told be every official I asked if I could leave it for 1 year and was told yes. However, Arnaldo suggested that I come back to UY and either ride to another border (300 or 600km away) to get new papers, or beg a plead for new ones through the customs office in Colonia. Mind you, this is two days before my flight leaves for Brasil. So I try to get some information from the Argentine side, with no success leaving a not so cheap physical trip back across the water to Uruguay.

I arrive in Colonia around 10am and Arnaldo meets me shortly after. We go to the customs office looking for the boss. He casually strolls in 30 minutes later and Arnaldo does some talking. he says he will call the Rio Branco office (where I entered from Brasil) in a hour to see if they can fax us another paper giving me one year. So we kill some time...

Colonia is an absolutely stunning historical town dating back to 1680 when the Portuguese established a colony. The Spanish and Portuguese fought for control for the next 150 years.

After we met the boss in customs and he made his calls we learned that for NO apparent reason the border through which I entered does not issue one year temporary vehicle permits. FOR NO REASON. So latin. Oh and the closest border 150 km away was closed for no apparent reason. This meant that with the remaining 6 hours before my ferry left I had to either ride 300km to another border and get new papers and return back to catch my ferry. This MIGHT work, if absolutely everything goes according to plan. However, with the luck of things it didn't seem feasible. So I sent an email to my friend in BA asking him to ask his boss if I could store the bike in his apt. building garage. As last resort, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It was on, and I decided to cross back to Argentina with the bike and deal with whatever it cost to pay for parking in the garage, but hoping it would go unnoticed.

Back in BA after a crazy day it was time for Whiskey Wednesday and another visit to Miranda for some outstanding cuts of meat and vino tinto with the supper club.

Ride Report #25: Bento Goncalves to Porto Alegre, Brasil to Minas, UY to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay

2010-05-22T15:36:00.001-07:00

I headed out of Bento Goncalves to meet my buddy, Eduardo, in a neighboring city after his business meeting. However, I received an early call telling me of car problems. So I set out to meet him and help however I could. But by the time I found him, the car had been loaded on truck, down the hill we went for Porto Alegre.

With a HUGE day coming I chose to stay in and get some rest at Ed's house. The next day I aimed to ride from Porto Alegre to the Uruguay border and as far down as I could.

I made it to the border after a few hundred KM of beautiful, lush countryside of cows, rolling hills and tranquil bodies of water.

I decided to stop in a town called Minas, UY as the sun was setting and I was getting tired. This quaint colonial town was a pleasant surprise! Narrow streets and colorful antique buildings. Everyone was out in the square for the afternoon mate drinking as I found my hotel. I am always intrigued by these very small, but beautiful town that seem so insulated yet full of character and true identity. I set out to get some dinner and a beer, but must have gone out too early because I was alone in the restaurant. I tried to hang in and stay up the check the local bar scene, considering it was Friday night, but after a long day of nearly 700 km my eyes were lead.

Leaving the next morning I past these most vivid flowers and snapped a few shots.

I met two of these guys in Mendoza a few months before and randomly saw them again at this gas station in Colonia del Sacramento, UY. They were heading across from Buenos Aires and heading north and eventually back to the US. They had a good trip other than the brutal attack they unfortunately received at a soccer game just days before in BA. Black eyes and broken ribs never a comfortable ride.

The Indian in my buddy's garage that was to share a space with my Vstrom.

When you finishing drinking mate, don't say "gracias" unless you do not care for anymore. It wont get passed to you again if you you do.

I was connected with a fellow moto rider in Colonia, UY just across the water from Buenos Aires, who offered to store my bike for a while. It was all a good plan, but I later found out I got the wrong papers when I entered into Uruguay...

Casa Valduga and Lidio Carraro Vinicolas, Bento Goncalves, Brasil

2010-05-13T16:20:00.000-07:00

While in Rio I sent emails in an attempt to obtain some information on Brasilian wines. I received a reply from a very professional and helpful representative from Wines from Brasil. He helped to facilitate the process of deciding where to visit in my very short time in Bento Goncalves and to set up meetings. During my tour of Casa Valduga I was treated extremely well as the English speaking export manager educated me on the history of the family, it's role in the Brasilian wine industry as well as local culture. The same is true for my time with Lidio Carrero starting when I was picked up and driven to the vinicola (winery) to meet with the daughter of the wine maker for a tasting of their fantastic boutique wines.

Before the tour I was able to taste some of the typically southern Brasilian cuisine, which is heavily influenced by the local Italian immigrants. Starting with a Capaletti soup, some fresh greens, pastas and meats all being passed by servers moving around the dinning room.

The meal was finished with Sagu, a traditional desert from this area made with WINE, tapioca and sugar.

THE first bottle of wine produced by the Valduga family after they shifted from being solely a producer and seller of grapes to a proper vinicola.

The red stuff being bottled.

The largest cellar of delicious sparkling white wine in South America.

The sparkling white bottles ready for disgorging, after the second fermentation in which the crown cap is removed along with the yeast that has collected beneath the cap.

Time to put a cork in it.

Making sure there is no yeast floating around.

One of the owners likes to use vines to imprint in the ceiling leaving this design.

Popping a cork the old fashioned way, WITH A SWORD!

Casa Valduga is investing in their sparkling white wine program, which is understandable once you have a taste. The soil in this region is slightly more acidic which is more conducive for grapes to be used in the production of sparkling wine.

Perfection!

Lidio Carraro, a boutique vinicola run by the Carraro family, graciously opened its doors to me so I could meet with the Patricia Carraro as she explained the family's history and plans for the future. One of the most striking differences that I found was the choice to leave oak out of the equation. They are in the mindset that oak detracts from the "true expression" of the grape. There is also a strong emphasis on research in soil types and location of the vineyards. I found many of the varietals a pleasant surprise and with an unopened Tempranillo and a Tannat in my bag I am anxiously awaiting the discovery of yet two more of Carraro's fine wines.

Ride Report #23 & #24: Florianopolis to Lages to Bento Goncalves, Brasil.

2010-05-12T07:05:00.001-07:00

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Leaving Florianopolis on this sunny morning, looking out over the town of Lagoa set in between two fresh water lagoons, next to the sand dunes in the center before the Atlantic in the distance.

The bridge connecting the island of Florianopolis to the continent.

A few house after riding highway south along the coast started to climb up this steep ledge to the high plains.

Lots of these!

The higher I climbed the more moisture I met. This a beautiful road shooting straight up this lushly covered ledge lined with flowers and small waterfalls.

And then you arrive on top! A massive highland in stark contrast to the landscape below, and FREEZING!

I made it to Lages, the round about way, and the only place I stopped I was met with this fellow who owned the gas station. He seemed fascinated by the bike and journey and insisted on leading me through town as I only had an hour of light to get to the next town, an hour plus away. Once again, I have met a selfless Brasiliero! Unfortunately, once I got out of town I ran head on into the darkness and heavy rain and fog making it impossible to see ANYTHING. I stopped, and turned around for town and safe and dry place to rest.

It poured cold rain all night, and failed to cease the following morning. I sat in my room looking out the window for a while until I finally strapped on all the synthetic and waterproofish clothing I had to do battle with the elements. I am running out of time and do not have the luxury of waiting out the storm. I made plans to get to Bento Goncalves to meet some wineries.

I was hoping it would not come to this, but it was entirely necessary this day, as the rain was hard, cold and consistent. It was a good test for me, to stay focused, calm, cautious and ignore the discomfort. Honestly, they were some of the best rolling country roads I had ridden, and I hope to ride them again under different weather conditions!

The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow! Pousada Villa dei Fiori, Bento Goncalves! I rolled in just before dark and the owner came out telling me that she was worried about me in these conditions and was happy to see me. I instantly began to melt. She brought me in and started to light a fire in the SUITE that she said I should have for the same price as a single because I had a hard day. HA. I tell you, I do not deserve this! I insisted otherwise, and then was too tired to fight. I was so happy to have a fire and bed! Later in the evening she prepared three types of meats, salad, broccoli pasta, some sort of cheesy casserole with wine. I was in heaven. I love that lady.

A Few Days of Fall in Florianopolis, Brasil

2010-05-10T17:22:00.001-07:00

I have come full circle. At least with this trip. I flew into Florianopolis (Floripa) December 28th 2009 at the peak of summer and spent two unforgettable weeks there before making my way to Buenos Aires to begin the moto journey. Floripa in May is clearly off-season as the roads are clear and the air is cool. The swell pics up but the water temperature drops. I had two full days of rain which put me in the hammock at pura vida, reading and listening to rain hit banana leaves. The other days were spent surfing, riding around the island via moto and generally enjoying this idyllic setting.

The steps leading from the road to Praia Mole (Mole Beach).

Rainy day at the cafe.

One of the best duos of all time, Inca (rottweiler) and Maya (boxer). Pure comedy as they compete for your love.

Glauco admiring the skills.

The end of the Lagoon at Rio Vermelho.

Shhcrimps!

Anyone want to buy some property? I do...

And the mother's day rodeo in the pasture next to the house.

Even the cows are beautiful in Brasil.

Pondering a swap. Floripa to BA on a horse...

The very cool and typically friendly family from down the road.

SAMBAAAAAA!

You must believe me when I tell you that Samba is the most infectious, uplifting and inclusive music I have heard. This was THE way to hear it, a small beach shack on an island in Brasil.

The back patio of the samba shack looking at the continent.

Pura Vida Pousada. Home of the infamous Daniel and my brief place of residence. A special place, off the grid, down a dirt road, through a pasture, nestled at the base of the mountain surrounded by Brasilian jungle!

I slept in the loft, and it is difficult to see, but the windows are filled with all green.

Second floor open room.

Second floor porch with hammocks!

Front yard with mountain stream that supplies fresh, untreated water for the house.

Ride Report #20, 21 and 22: Rio de Janeiro to Sao Paulo to Curitiba to Florianopolis, Brasil.

2010-05-03T09:32:00.000-07:00

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After three very memorable weeks in Rio de Janeiro the time came to start heading south towards my moto's my final destination, Buenos Aires. I left Rio in the rain, like most Brasilian depatures, and started to push hard for Sao Paulo, once through traffic. The ride was all freeway, with expensive tolls and inconsiderate truck drivers. But I am always given beautiful, lush jungle scenery!

Most of the Bonita Hostel staff (except for the chubby Welsh guy), where I lived for the better part of 3 weeks, seeing me off after I had 5 "last nights" in town.

I connected with a friend from high school who is living in Sao Paulo with his family. I unfortunately missed him, but was able to get some rest in the guest room.

Leaving SP after a good nights rest (missing out on the "best night life in Brasil"). Sometimes I have to remember that I am a motorcycle rider, and make sacrifices to ride safe and smart. I really surprised myself at how responsible and mature I can be. ha.

My gracious host Reginaldo met me and brought me to his home in Curitiba where I stayed for three nights before heading to Floripa! Once again, an extremely hospitable Brasilian.

Curious girl in the window as we make our way around town.

The Curitiba Botanical Gardens!

I am now a huge fan of the native Brasilian artist Poty. His work can be seen all over the walls of Curitiba's historic district.

An illustration of the state tree of the state of Parana, the Araucaria.

My lovely tour guide, Raquel.

This horse gave me nightMARES for weeks...

My host, fellow motociclista and tour guide, Reginaldo.

Back to Pura Vida on the island of Florianopolis, Brasil.

Daniel and I washing the boards, post sunset surf session.

Later in the night I had some pizza with a friend I met during my first visit to the island, then off to Samba in town. The band played in the living room of a house turned samba club while we hung out on the porch drinking beer and listening to the 8 or 10 very talented musicians send everyone into a groove. It is fall in Floripa which meant I was probably the only gringo in the house, which is always the ideal situation.

The road home to the stone house in the jungle, Pura Vida.

Today's all you can eat lunch of fresh vegetables, rice, beans and a fresh fish. Oh and papaya and mint smoothie. This is why I love Brasil!

Rio Reflection

2010-04-29T09:03:00.000-07:00

I am all packed up and ready to start the last leg of this fantastic journey south to Buenos Aires. I have been in Rio de Janeiro for 3 weeks enjoying the Carioca life. Just as my Brasilian friend predicted I have found a place I just cannot leave. I feel as though my trip is over and it is time to find a job, a place to live and continue my life here, in Rio. However, I did not structure the trip with this as a feasible option. I am delighted to return to North Carolina to see my youngest sister graduate from high school and two months later be a part of my other sister's wedding. Family milestones on the horizon that I would not miss for the world, or Rio. Not to mention the fact that I am broke and need to get back to work!

When someone asked why I like Rio so much I find it easy to explain to a Carioca, but difficult to explain to someone who has never experienced Rio. With this being said, I do not believe that just coming here, drinking some acai and going to the beach is sufficient. Everyone has their own way of travelling, of knowing a place and its people and culture. But the more open I am, the deeper I dig, the more I engage, the more I love, the more I smile, the more I say "yes" the more truly affected I am and the closer I come to understanding my environment. I realize that I am travelling, without any major responsibilities or the problems of everyday life, and that this is no perfect place. Every society has its problems. However, Rio has a magical mix of ingredients resulting in a lifestyle unlike anything I have experienced. Beautiful warm turquoise Atlantic ocean water punctuated by distant islands, surrounded by towering rock domes, meeting long sandy beaches filled with beautiful people swimming, surfing, dancing, playing volleyball and relaxing next to a wide boardwalk of cafe kiosks selling coconut water and ice cold beer as Cariocas run and ride past under the warm sun. You cross the street and enter the tree lined streets of the neighborhood of Ipanema. Juice bars and restaurants on every corner filled with businessmen, surfers and bikinis. You can hike luscious jungle trails taking you to the best views of your life, surf perfect warm waves, exercise along the many beach paths, cool off under waterfalls, explore the many lagoons by day and eat, drink and dance all night next to contagious smiles and mesmerizing moves. This is how I will remember Rio.

I am surrounded by positivity. I never hear my Carioca friends wasting their time bad mouthing others, judging or setting up a barrier of pretense. There is more of an emphasis on what we do have, and not what we do not have. Brasilians are rich in natural resources and quality of life, and they know it, love it and share it! Granted, I cannot understand all conversations or interactions around me, and maybe it is just the nature of the people I have met, but I would like to think that there is a sincere affection for life which is why everyone seems so damn happy.

Because of these elements I have never felt some comfortable or happy around so many people. I do not typically prefer cities, but this one is different. This is a marvelous city!

Pedra da Gavea night hike. Sunrise over my favorite city. Pure magic!

2010-04-28T07:27:00.000-07:00

We started the the hike after taking the bus from Ipanema to Barra da Tijuca around 2am. Then walking through town, up a neighborhood to the trailhead.

We wasted no time shooting straight up the rock climbing roots and rocks. Taking breaks for fruit and water.

The moon was near full, poking through the thick jungle foliage, rarely reaching the ground. The local frogs put on a free concert all night.

After two hours of 1500 ft of vertical climbing we reached some exposed rock sections. The strong wind and city lights far below made these sections challenging for my nerves, but with experienced friends near by and my trusty headlamp we persevered.

Above is the top of the Pedra da Gavea just before we summited. It was very dark as I needed to use a 2 min. exposure for this image.

We made it to the top, around 2500 ft above the sea level start, for a quick rest before sunrise!

Facing east over Rio as the first bit of light arrives.

The white lights in the center line the beach of Ipanema where I am staying.

Some other folks made it just in time!

Christ the redeemer on the left, the Atlantic on the right, the Lagoon in center, Niteroi across and ALL Rio.

After surfing all day, going out at night and a strong hike I was exhausted, but fully intoxicated by what I saw.

We took a nap in the grass, just meters from the edge, for a few hours after sunrise, before descending.

To give perspective the rock face above and right is the same as the one from the long exposure night shot from earlier taken while we climbed.

Juan catching some wind facing west looking over Barra da Tijuca.

The other side of this field is where we slept and watched the sun rise.

The rock face we scaled in the middle of the night with only a headlamp and an insane urban view.

This insect was glowing and shining like a green diamond. The most beautiful bug I have ever seen.

Lindsay acting like Jane.

I got a good swing in before the vine snapped mid-air sending me quickly to the dirt. If you zoom in you see that there is a foot and a half of vine above my hands then nothing. Hilarious.

Jaca fruit. Hangs off of trees like a big wart. Some people eat it, but it is less than appealing to me.

Hanging with the curious dog while waiting for Juan. A good day to say the least, but ready for bed.

Sunday in Rio

2010-04-27T17:19:00.000-07:00

Ok fine, I'll stay another day. It's a holiday for god's sake!

2010-04-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

SO MUCH FANTASTIC FRUIT!!!

My friend Lindsay acting as my model. Much thanks menina!

The Welshman can't manage to eat Acai and put on sunscreen at the same time. All laughs with this one.

This is the first time that I have ever been this comfortable surrounded by this many people. It must be a special place!

She was attempting to carry both coconuts, but as I approached she dropped them and gave me the death stare.

We stayed on the beach hours past dark, as did most of the city. Above is a band playing traditional Brailian music at the beach bar. Pure bliss.

Brasil is a drug: 10 days in Rio

2010-04-19T17:30:00.000-07:00

Photos taken with me in the frame by either Anderson, Joyce or Lindsay.

Ride Report #19: Paraty to Rio de Janeiro, Brasil

2010-04-14T13:32:00.001-07:00

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I spent the previous night tasting Cachaca, for which Paraty is famous, with an Italian and a Swiss bloke while roaming around this colonial town. Paraty is situated on the "green coast" between Sao Paolo and Rio de Janeiro states surrounded by jungle mountains on one side and blue water punctuated by small islands on the other.

As the puddles would indicate, it rained the whole night before, but I was given a window at departure to stay dry.

This sign always puts a massive grin on my face, especially with this view.

In addition to Rio suffering the worst flooding in 44 years, the hillsides where littered with landslides spilling onto the road. There most have been dozens, ranging in size from small bits of dirt to MASSIVE boulders.

As I approach Rio and the lanes start to multiply the sky grows dark and gives me a nice welcoming present. I would have loved to take more pics, but entered Rio in the heaviest rain I have experienced in an urban setting. I was trying to find my way through this huge city to the hostel to meet my friend, only following signs for Ipanema, getting stuck at stop lights and crossing flooded streets and testing my limits. But it all worked out and I am loving RIO!!!

Over flowing man hole!

Ride Report #18: Ilhabela to Paraty, Brasil

2010-04-12T18:01:00.000-07:00

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As I left Ihlabela the rain had let up and I was given spectacular views of the coast the beach communities along it. However, this weather didn't last and I was once again riding under water. And this is why there are so few pics. I was just trying to keep my equipment dry.

I will say that the road is a dream (other than the dreadful speed bumps in each town) with views of the ocean on one side and the mountainous jungle on the other split by plentiful curves.

The sky cleared just in time for a nice sunset.

The rain was quite consistently heavy in the charming colonial town of Paraty. The pictures online of this village are nothing short of paradise, but I was not afforded the luxury of this experience. I had a great fish dinner, met some european travellers and tasted what Paraty is famous for, cachaca! I plan on returning once I head south for a second go.

Rainy Ilhabela, Brasil

2010-04-12T16:17:00.001-07:00

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I posted up on Brasil's sailing capital, Ilhabela, for four days in the rain figuring that if this was the "big one" I'd be surrounded by boats and could be like Noah. It turned out not to be the big one and I spent my time drinking coffee, running around in the down pours, speaking only portuguese and spanish to locals over a cold cerveja Skol. The pics above are from the Wednesday night Forro dancing session where I witnessed a very talented and lucky man dancing with three lovely Brasilieras at once. I have video but this little computer and crappy connection cant handle the HD madness...

On Thursday the rain let up and I joined some friends for a trip to 4 of the MANY cachoeiras (waterfalls) for a few dips.

His front yard was a jungle and bird sanctuary. Stunning.

One reason why my sister calls me "monkey boy". Eu adoro cachoeiras!!!

The sun poked out for my departure. This is where I parked meu moto while staying at the pousada.

The ferry back to shore.

Ilhabela!

Ride Report #17: Curitiba to Ilhabela, Brasil

2010-04-09T13:44:00.000-07:00

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Not many photos because I was submerged. Rain, banana trees, beautiful mountains, fast curves and more rain.

Made it to the ferry just in time to get across to Ilhabela for a bit of dryness while scouting a hotel. Found a great spot with a courtyard and my own room. I stayed 3 days waiting for a change in weather. I did not know one person who spoke english. Muito practicando!

Ride Report #16: Porto Iguazu, Argentina to Foz do Iguazu to Curitiba, Brasil

2010-04-07T07:37:00.001-07:00

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I crossed from Argentina into Brasil around noon. It was a complete breeze. The folks in the Argy customs office had no idea what form to give me, or so it seemed, and more or less printed something off and said "adios". And once I got the the Brasilian border, the lovely girl in the booth filled out a form, chuckled a bit and said "bienvenido a brasil".

10km later I arrived in Foz do Iguacu to closed shops and empty streets. It was Semana Santa (easter weekend) for these very religious people. I sent an email to Xyko, my local moto amigo, earlier in the day informing him of my plans. In proper Brasilian fashion, he told me to call him when I came into town. Once in town, I headed for a bank, none of which accepted my card. I tried to call him but my phone was without credit. I tried to buy credit but the system was down. I ended buying a phone card, tracking him down, and trying to remember any bit of portuguese I could to supplement his english. He ask me where I was, and to stay put, as he was on his way. 20 min later he showed up at the cafe. He told me to follow him to his sisters house for lunch. My man with a plan. I put my moto in his garage on the way to meet his family and was greeted with smiles and open arms. The feed me delicious fish with veggies, shrimp risotto, salad and an ice cold cerveza. Life was good, and I was falling back in love with Brasil. After a fun lunch speaking portanol (portuguese and espanol) we headed to his house where he and his wife insisted that I shower, do my laundry and rest as I needed before we hit the town for traditional food and beeeeer. I tried to graciously decline out of respect, but they wouldn't allow it. Later in the night we went into town to meet another fellow rider. We shared a large plate of fish, rice, papas fritas, veggies and, of course, cold beer! I am, once again, treated like a king with hopes of returning the hospitality in the future. Riders look out for one another.

I left Foz do Iguacu the next day rested and determined to reach Curitiba. Shortly after departing the warm, humid jungle town I intersected some strong storms. The funny thing about what I wrote a few days ago regarding being IN my environment and experiencing the elements more completely is that when it pisses rain, you are most certainly IN it. I came in and out of a few storms but none as bad as what I would experience leaving Curitiba.

The country side in the state of Parana is rich with vegetation, rolling hills and curvy clean roads.

They love their moto clubs!

I made it to Curitiba just after dark to Curitiba Eco hostel just outside of town where I met some chaps from Sao Paulo who kindly took me out for some saturday night brasilian socializing. It was a highly entertaining night on many levels. For some reason the girls I spoke with (to practice portuguese of course) thought I was a brasilian acting like a gringo. Seriously, they thought I was faking an English accent and lying to try to pick them up. In fact, one girl got mad and basically told me to piss off!!! Hilarious! Either my english is horrible or my portuguese is getting strong. I even flashed my Cali ID for proof. But the fact that there were no other tourists and my sao paulo company confused these folks. Either way I had a blast and met some nice new friends!

Iguazu Falls, Argentina

2010-04-04T17:40:00.001-07:00

With 275 different waterfalls and marvelous vistas I really don't to write much about Iguazu Falls. The photos illustrate how absolutely stunning this place is!

Ryan and I headed out to check out Devil's throat.

One of the heaviest things I ve ever seen. Breathtaking.

This moron thought it would be cool to pet the Coati Mundi. He got away with his fingers this time.

The view from the Sheraton Hotel pool.

Ryan and I attacked the park with a vengeance, covering all the possible hiking trials and taking advantage of a comped boat ride!

Lining up for the boat ride.

Ride Report #12, 13, 14 and 15: Mendoza to Iguazu Falls

2010-04-01T15:26:00.000-07:00

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I grouped these days together, because other than some spectacularly expansive countryside and glorious sunsets I was burning rubber to cross the plains. The first day leaving Mendoza started late after some coffee and biscuits with friends and took me due east away from the beloved Andes. I past endless fields of grapes and olives, as it became less arid and more humid. I finished the day in Villa Maria, a small farm town with a lively central square perfect for people watching with a glass of Campari and soda. I was clearly the only gringo around as the locals spent hours strolling around the center or sipping coffee with friends and family on that warm summer sunday night. I found a cheap room (40 pesos = $10 USD) with secure parking and rested well for a big day ahead.

Somehow I was able to avoid this storm the second day as I made my way to Federal in the state of Entre Rios. A few hours later, after riding around the storm, the sky was lit with this saturated glow.

These days spent crossing the plains where less about the road and more about the little pleasures of travelling in the country. For example, I was riding on two lane roads through rural Argentina and would come to a different agricultural community every 20 to 50 miles. There would be some kids playing by the side of the road, fishing off a small bridge or riding bikes, doing what kids do in the summer time. At least one of them would start waving his hands, showing off a big smile as the alien invader (yours truly) came cruising through town. The overall excitement and love for motos down here puts a huge grin on my face every time I get this reaction.

Another great thing about travelling this way is that, other than being completely free to go wherever I please, my route takes me through parts of the country that my backpacking counterparts may never see. I do not have the option of sleeping or reading while moving, I am completely immersed in my environment. I smell the bakery as I come around the corner, or the rain on hot pavement, I feel the temperature change when I descend into a river basin. I have no metal and glass shell around me, I am IN it. I am also unable to travel through the night, as I need to sleep and it is much more dangerous for many reasons. I spend nights in towns that are not in the guide books speaking only spanish to locals at the neighborhood cafe. Talking about their country, my country and all the cultural differences and similarities we share. I have learned more from these interactions than could ever be taught through a book.

After Federal I continued north, approaching the Uraguay and Brasilan border. The climate was humid, the forest thick and the soil the color of a red velvet cake. I stopped here at a bus/shack for two beer empanadas and a 7up.

Later in the day after passing the medium size city of Posadas, I noticed a strong clicking noise coming from the rear of the bike as I pulled out of first and second gears. I rode north to find a smaller more relaxing village to stay the night. As I was riding the streets of San Ignacio a mechanic came out of his shop to listen and as I was trying to isolate the noise he waved me down. We added more tension to the chain but the noise continued. He thought it was my bearing, which meant I needed to return the 90km back to Posadas for a new set. If it was indeed the bearing, a break could cause a seizure and subsequently the locking of the rear wheel sending me into a uncontrollable skid. Not a happy thought. However, he was an auto mechanic, and according to one of the local girls, who was hanging around for entertainment, there was a moto shop on the other side of town.

I followed the nice girl down some clay dirt roads to see Willy. Above is the shop that I spent hours with the mechanic trying to figure out exactly what the problem was. He took the wheel off, we inspected the bearings. As you can see below, they are spot on. No problems. The sprockets were fine, the transmission ok, which left the chain.

At first glance the chain seemed fine, but after removing it and carefully feeling each link we discovered this kink. He did not have the chain I needed, but I felt confident that we found the problem. He instructed me to travel 80km up the road to a town called Puerto Rico where I would find a Honda shop with the parts I needed. I felt better that I could get one up the road, but was not completely relaxed riding with a loud popping noise coming from my chain. I rode gently up the highway and was lucky enough to get exactly what I needed. Phew.

Just after getting the new chain on, and some rear brake pads, I noticed a group of riders pulling into the station across the street. I rode up to say hello and was greeted warmly by some Brasilians on their way home from a 20 day ride south to Ushuaia. We exchanged some words and I joined them for the final leg of their trip back to Foz do Iguazu, just on the other side of the border. I stopped on the Argy side but told them I would be crossing soon, and looked forward to meeting again.

I ended up meet with the fellow on the far right, who has the bigger version of my bike, and had dinner with his family and stayed in his home! Amazing hospitality, but more on that later.

The triple frontera! Brasil, Argentina and Paraguay.

The above photo is taken from the Argy side, with the sun setting over Paraguay and Brasil to the right.

Day Ride: Mendoza to Uspallata for a picnic

2010-03-31T11:46:00.000-07:00

We left Mendoza headed north towards Villavicencio, the town and water source for bottled water to be distributed all over the country. I was unable to find a gas station leaving town, but was optimistic that I would not get us stuck in the middle of the desert. That would be a truly rookie move.

We stopped at the restaurant for coffee and cocoa. My photographer/co-pilot making faces.

Hamming it up.

We followed the zig-zags up the mountain into the ominous clouds above.

A condor!

Happy-time smirk post zig-zags!

The other side of the range gave us cool air and blue skies.

Sundries as offerings. Cigarettes to electrical tape. I don't really get it.

In the valley coming into Uspallata, more of the always welcomed tree lined streets.

Pre-dip.

After lunch and a siesta by the creek. Pura vida.

Back through this field towards the ruta and down to Mendoza.

We were stopped due to typically inefficient Argentine road work. They decide to move a wrecked tractor trailer from the road on a Saturday afternoon as everyone is coming down the canyon.

We had two hours to chat and make friends with some other local riders. Yours truly rider's left.

The hustle back to town with no one in front of us for two hours!!!

*All photos with me as subject taken by S. Cirone. Gracias!!!

Mendozer

2010-03-26T09:20:00.000-07:00

I'm taking it easy in Mendoza trying to spend some good time with my amigo from home as well as buy some new tires (arm and a leg), get an oil change, fix my helmet, send some stuff to BA and rest. I was set to leave today, but with the prospect of some fun social gatherings on the horizon I decided to stay just a few more days. And that statement is used quite a bit, "just a few more days". I enjoy Mendoza because of its proximity to the mountains, the wine industry and the fact that its a city with the feel of a town. I am not completely excited about the first half of the transcontinental trek across the plains of Argentina to the triple border of Argentina, Brasil and Paraguay, however, if I am to see the bright beaches of Rio I must get a move on. Has to be Sunday, no later.

The proposed route:

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Ride Report #11: Santiago, Chile to Mendoza, Argentina

2010-03-24T14:17:00.000-07:00

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Santiago reminded me a bit of LA because of how arid, brown and hidden by smog the hills where. As I left the valley I found myself in wine country again, but without time for tasting. I was extremely tired and felt a cold coming on so I drank as much coffee and redbull as my liver could handle. Just had to make it to Mendoza.

Getting closer to the town of Los Andes, the REAL mountains began to appear. And as I was not expecting them at the moment I was, once again, surprised at their height.

This pass is the most intense and sensational mountain pass I have yet to cross. The sheer height and slope of these mountains is remarkable. The road was being repaired and I had time at each stop to look around and admire the natural power or my surroundings.

The section of road above is like something out of a motorcyclists fantasy. The road climbs so high, so quickly with forceful wind requiring all the energy and focus available to stay on the pavement. This view had me speechless!

At the top of the pass just before the tunnel was the Chilean exit.

They were constructing this part of the road to be protected from heavy winter snow fall.

Now in Argentina and approaching Aconcagua!

At 22,841 feet above sea level, Aconcagua is the highest peak in the western hemisphere.

In the parking lot I met two other guys also riding Suzuki V Stroms. One from Buenos Aires and the other from Santa Barbara. After going through customs I met with them and rode back to town.

I arrived in Mendoza just as the sun was setting following another superb day of riding through the Andes mountains. I am completely at peace and thankful for this experience!

Ride Report #10: Pucon to Santiago, Chile!

2010-03-22T15:58:00.000-07:00

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I woke after 5 hours of sleep in one of the coolest hostels I've ever seen. Ecole is located in the center of Pucon, with a full vegetarian menu, cafe and beer on tap. I would have loved to stay longer but I had a big day ahead of me. I left early after a mexican style breakfast knowing I was in for over 800 km of riding through the area of Chile hardest hit by the earthquake.

The morning started early, cold and extremely foggy. I was wearing all of the layers available and praying for sunshine. Soon after getting to the Ruta 5 my wishes were granted!

The Ruta 5 which is the main vein running up and down through the center of this skinny country is usually perfectly maintained and allows for big miles. However, once I got closer to Concepcion the road started to fall apart. Bridges were out, guard rails pulled down, huge cracks in the pavement and random depressions in the freeway. This all made for more detours than I could count. However, the Chilean authorities did a fantastic job of marking these extensive hazards.

I would be cruising at down the road at 120 kph and have to come to almost a complete stop to ride through a depression the size of a shallow pool, then get back up to speed to be stopped 1 km down the road and detour around a collapsed bridge.

All of this made for an eventful, albeit long and tedious ride taking 10+ hours. In a car or bus it would have taken closer to 13 or 14 hours.

After an hour or so trying to find a reasonably priced hostel I stumbled across this charming guest house in the center of Santiago with the oh so valuable moto parking!

The daughter of the family welcomed me and made me feel at home for my one night stay. We spoke extensively (as much as possible in Spanish) about the devastating earthquake just weeks before. Above is some of the damage to her family's adobe style home.

That night, although EXTREMELY tired and feeling a cold coming on, I ventured out to see the new W hotel in Santiago. A buddy of mine works at the W in LA and made arrangements for me to go the Whiskey Blue Bar. I had fun dancing a making new friends until I could barely stand, then back home for a few hours of rest before leaving for Mendoza the following day.

Ride Report #9: Osorno, Chile to Pucon, Chile

2010-03-19T19:09:00.001-07:00

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From the commercial (not tourist) town of Osorno, Chile I set off north towards Pucon. While looking at the map I realized how close I was to the South American Pacific, and figured I would not be any closer on this trip so I took a left from the highway and rode rolling hills through conifers and a seemingly thriving timber industry. The cloud cover was strong and the entire landscape reminded me of the Pacific Northwest of the US. I passed the port town Valdivia, crossed some bridges and followed the inlet to the sea past numerous fishing communities until I made it to this beach with a view of the Oceana Pacifico.

I was starving and circled back towards Niebla, the closest village, for some fish. Stopped at this little spot for fried fish, tomatoes, rice and a peculiarly spicy cold soup. This charming little girl came straight out and stood right next to my table, but when I spoke to her it was clear that although curious she was muy timida. But safe behind the glass she would make faces and blow kisses.

$3 lunch.

On my way back to Valdivia, I took a wrong turn down a dirt road and noticed some Chilean Huasos (cowboys) and some sort of event. This is one of those opportunities to truly explore a country. At first I turned around, thinking of Pucon, then realized that this is one of those experiences that I could not get from "Lonely Planet" guide book and I needed to stop and see what was going on. I went in and parked my bike in front of this barn. The fellas above where curious and although Chilean spanish is difficult for me to understand, we spoke a bit. The informed me that I had stumbled upon a traditional Chilean rodeo. AWESOME!

I was very interested in the attire, as I was completely different from the gauchos of Brasil and Argentina. I followed them to the bar and retail area where I bought some exquisite hand made leather goods.

Ornately hand carved wooden stirrups.

I spoke with these inquisitive cops as this gentleman is used resin for wood to seal this sombrero.

After the rodeo I made my way back to the highway, headed north for a bit then split off on a side road towards Pucon. I stopped along the way, went up a dirt road for a better view of the volcano and had some berries by the side of the road. Bliss. This town is famous for the lake, the volcano and the plethora of outdoor activities. I look forward to returning.

This town is famous for the lake, the volcano and the plethora of outdoor activities. I look forward to returning.

Ride Report #8: Bariloche, Argentina to Osorno, Chile

2010-03-19T18:49:00.003-07:00

I was sad to leave the fantastic town of Bariloche, and more importantly the people I met there, but I have much more to see and was both excited and nervous about crossing into Chile. I left under another massive blue sky and grand white clouds, but within 20 minutes of departing, as I followed the other side of the lake, I was riding head on into a storm. By the time I reached Villa de la Angostura it was pouring. Luckily I invested in the proper gear. From Angostura I climbed straight up to the border, alone, on the newest and most well maintained paved road yet. But with this much rain it was like ice, with no wear to give it texture and grip. On a sunny day this would've been bliss, but today, a challenge to stay up.

I made it to the exit of Argentina and went in to fill out my paperwork, getting every sheet stuck together from my completely drenched exterior. The girls at the desk giggled because I looked like I was from Mars, and was probably the only person they had seen that day that was silly enough to ride.

After you leave Argentina there is a 30km gap before reaching the Chilean customs office. This section was dense, green Patagonian forest, and I stopped wherever I pleased. The rain let up, but the thick cloud cover did not, preventing my view of the volcanoes in the area. But it forced me to focus on my immediate surroundings, which I didnt mind.

I was alone and in love with this particular spot in the world.

By the time I reached the border at the top, it was absolutely DUMPING, and my helmet lens was fogging heavily, but I took it slow and laughed it off.

Dropping down onto the Eastern slop of the Andes into Chile means more green fields, a completely new palette of scents and fast smooth roads.

The perfect way to punctuate a cold, wet day of riding seemed to be with a dip in a thermal pool next to a stream. The old folks and I had a good dip and made for a completely mellow ride down into Osorno, Chile where I would stay the night in a home/hostel that smelled of stew and potatoes and old things. But they let me park the moto in the front walk way so we both slept well.

Around Bariloche and El Bolson, Argentina

2010-03-19T15:34:00.000-07:00

I decided to take a day off the moto and get some work done, and joined my fellow hostel mates for a ride around the peninsula. The girls were ready to leave as I was starting my breakfast. After inquiring about their day, they said I could join if I hurried so we could catch the bus out of town. I grabbed the one long sleeve I had and off we went. It was windy as hell and barely over 45* F, and I was in shorts.

I rolled my ankle quite badly running to my bike at the shop. A great way to start a ride. But I taped it and we ventured out. We made to a quaint little beach void of wind and full of sun.

We casually rode the 25 km circuit surrounded by massive peaks and great views.

We stopped near a Swiss colonial village for some fresh trout and Heinekin.

oh, and ice cream.

The main square, back in Bariloche.

Sunset cerveza.

Above is the last of the 7 lakes, just south of El Bolson, Argentina, which is a 140km ride through more impressive mountain terrain with sexy curves the whole way.

A friend decided to join for the trip and we met some nice local riders who gave us the tour around El Bolson, then led the high speed pursuit back to Bariloche at sunset.

The mtn. range east of El Bolson.

Back in town we were on a mission for tacos, but it proved to be futile. Plan B, empanadas. We bought a whole rotisserie chicken, de-boned it mixed sauteed peppers, onions, spices, tomatoes, lemon, cilantro and fresh cheese topped with avocado and a side of veggies for the best empanada imaginable. Mexi-cali style.

I ate 7 and we gave one away.

Ride Report #7: San Martin de los Andes to Bariloche

2010-03-17T08:11:00.000-07:00

I have been a bit out of touch, due to a disgusting computer virus that turned my system into mush. I paid a chap in Bariloche some pesos to get me off to a fresh start so that I can keep the blog rolling and stay in touch.

The ride from Mendoza was a bit different than I expected, with more dirt, less peaks and more time. I like to do a bit of research, ask some locals, get a map and go. I enjoy the surprises. It's a balance between researching too much and not having any surprises and doing too little research and missing something spectacular.

As Frank and I arrived in San Martin de los Andes it was clear that we were now entering the land of tourists. Chocolate shops and tshirt shops in faux swiss buildings in between two mountain ranges nestled at the end of a clear blue lake. This was the start of the "Road of the Seven Lakes" route that leads into Bariloche and down to El Bolson. I knew we were due for some great scenery and some lakes, but was unaware of this particular route, which we ended up on by default. Another pleasant surprise.

We found a decent hotel in town, which seemed to cater to those over 70, and headed out for an affordable meal (not easy in tourist town). The next day we headed south for Bariloche, stopping where and whenever we pleased for photos or dirt riding.

We met some nice American girls at this fantastic little lake.

After 40km of dirt we made it to Villa La Angostura, an EXTREMELY touristic town, for a coffee and decided to keep moving both being unable to handle the cheesiness. We got word of a camping spot just out of town and decided to check it out, as it was perfect weather and we were up for a change of pace. We rode down this dirt rode along the stream onto the lake. AMAZING!!! One of the best camping spots of all time! So we found a spot next to the water, and headed to town for supplies.

We ate steaks, tomatoes, onions, bread with butter and drank red wine. Simple, but perfect.

I was in charge of scavenging for wood and relied on my caveman instincts to break down the logs. Good fun.

My rediculous US Marine issue knife came into handy with breaking up the small stuff.

I was previously unaware that this area is known for the fishing, but met this friendly Argy and he let me cast a bit in this magnificent setting. But no bites.

I slept on the beach under the thickest, brightest and most impressive sky of stars I have EVER seen. Words do it no justice.

Bariloche from the other side of the lake.

Best hostel view in history.

Ride Report #6: Chos Malal to San Martin de Los Andes

2010-03-12T16:33:00.000-08:00

Ride Report #5: Malargue to Chos Malal

2010-03-12T10:46:00.000-08:00

Was a bit cold in the morning as we started down the first bit of dirt for the day.

Stealth mode.

Some more bikers from BA.

Stinky Mr. Ed.

Mr. Frank Butler.

The crazy frenchman we bumped into in the middle of the desert.

Glad to meet the pavement.

Above, the valley leading into Chos Mallal! Beautiful! And Frank about to refresh after a dusty day.

Ride Report #4: Mendoza to Malargue

2010-03-11T05:11:00.000-08:00

The ride from Mendoza to San Rafael is rather mellow, lots of wide open arid plains. But we made it and began to look for a moto contact. Frank is asking this fellow where we can find a gringo by the name of John who runs a farm and gives work to travelling moto riders. No success but provided for an interesting adventure around town.

Frank was exhausted and decided to stay in San Rafael, but seeing as how it was my first day on the bike headed south, I was ready to roll! I took off towards the moutains and came across this salt bed.

All was good at first...

And then I got sideways. A thin layer of water under the salt turns it to ice and by the looks of that massive arching skid I was sideways for a while. Good fun, but I left with a bent and slightly higher right pannier. But as my friend Alex would say, "It's only metal".

Luckly, just after my fall, this fantastic Argy couple, that I had just met, were making their way out onto the salt bed. They rolled up with grins and helped me lift it upright. We had a laugh and they had some fun on their more stable four wheels. We ended up meeting again in the next town, finding a hostel, and having dinner together, almost completely in spanish. Good people!

Ice.

My Argy pals traveling their country.

Los Andes.

Day trip to Portrerillos outside Mendoza.

2010-03-07T17:34:00.000-08:00

From Mendoza I headed west up Ruta 7 to Potrerillos then up Ruta 89 into the mountains for a spot of lunch at the only micro brewery around, Cerveza Jerome. The brewery and restaurant are literally next to the owner/operator's home at the top of a gravel mountain road high above town. However, he manages to distribute his product all over the world, including Boulder, CO.

Had a tasty burger and the "El Diablo" beer.

Bottled by hand.

After lunch and a tour I got on the bike headed for higher ground. I followed winding gravel roads next to the stream then climbing up some fantastic switchbacks. Eventually, I made my way to Refugio "San Bernardo" at just under 10,000 feet above sea level.

This is the same hut that my buddy Adam uses for his winter ski tours.

I was warmly greeted by some local folks for a coffee and mate. These pleasant surprises are what make traveling alone so rewarding. I had no idea what was up that road, but ended up having a wonderful time with new people high in the Andes.

Then back to Mendoza, and off to Bariloche manana!

Vendimia 2010

2010-03-07T16:50:00.000-08:00

These big shows aren't really my bag, but it is a once in a lifetime kind of situation. Vendimia is a annual celebration of wine harvest with parties, tastings and other wine centered events taking place during the week leading up to this evening.

We parked it with a full spread of melons, empanadas, steak sandwiches and wine.

.After 2 hours of a very elaborate and colorful performance it was time to select the queen. I, however, skipped out early to avoid the chaos we experienced on the way in (These Argentines have yet to figure out how to organize a safe and efficient event entrance). A nice girl from Santa Rosa took home the crown.

Via Blanca at Vendimia in Mendoza

2010-03-06T13:06:00.000-08:00

Above, Adam's favorite Queen, but the loser. My girl from Santa Rosa took the crown. She's the one dancing for me in the video below.

Mrs. Stern and I breaking it down.

Hilarious.

Wine Harvest at Catena Zapata, Tapiz, O Fournier AND Asado with Adam and fam!

2010-03-05T13:46:00.000-08:00

Destemmer at Tapiz.

Chardonnay grapes after being juiced, to be used for Grappa, fertilizer etc.

Full line at Tapiz, including Zolo for the American market.

French oak on the left, American oak on the right. American oak has larger pores, thus absorbing more of the wine. Most bodegas use 70 or 80% French oak and the rest American.

Cloudy, unfiltered Sauvignon Blanc fresh from the tank before aging.

My daily commute.

Alien space ship winery at Bodega O Fournier.

Not all wineries hand select grapes, as they do here at O Fournier.

Once a container is full of whole grapes they are dropped directly into the fermentation tank below using gravity as a natural crusher.

O Fournier is one of the few wineries that uses French oak, concrete and stainless steal tanks for fermentation.

O Fournier batman style cellar!

Lunch.

The house rented by Adam's mom and friend in Chacras, just south of Mendoza.

White lion.

Asado prep.

Bodega Clos De Charras y Bodega Benegas

2010-03-02T16:14:00.000-08:00

Chile

2010-03-01T05:50:00.000-08:00

Although I slept through the earthquake here in Mendoza, many people did not. We were lucky to have only received a 4+ quake while our neighbors, a few hours west, are devestated. Everyday the news worsens with more aftershocks and an increasing death toll.

I want to help. With the motivation of a fellow moto traveler I was seriously thinking of heading over tomorrow. We have sent emails to volunteer groups requesting information, but I have yet to receive a response. From what those in Santiago are saying it is best to wait a few days before coming. If there is no food, water or shelter then I am not sure if I am helping or just adding to the masses that need these essentials. I feel it is best to let the professionals establish what they need and then go into help. However, it is tempting to just go.

Hopefully, there will be time in the near future when it is safe to go lend a hand. And if any of you hear of volunteer groups please inform me, as I am a bit disconnected.

Mega Degustacion Vendemia Mendoza, Argentina

2010-02-28T11:18:00.000-08:00

Ampora Wine Tour, Mendoza, Argentina

2010-02-28T09:21:00.000-08:00

Ride Report #3: Mina Clavero to Mendoza

2010-02-28T08:54:00.000-08:00

After an amazing ride from Cordoba into the Sierras I stumbled across the fantastic Andamundos hostel next to the river. It was the first place I stopped in and proved to be a lucky find. By 9pm the place was filling back up with folks from their day adventures and by 11pm we were all gathered around the table to a delicious chicken and veggie dinner, with live music of course.

I really had an amazing time with my new Argy friends and was able to practice my spanish and embarrass myself on the salsa floor. The tempted me to stay with a trip to the swimming holes of the river, but my long time pal was waiting for me in Mendoza.

Unlike the ride form Cordoba to Mina Clavero, this was flat, straight and un pocito aburrido. But the weather was nice and I was enjoying the day.

State line.

I made it to Medoza around 6pm after 5 hours of pinning it to meet my college buddy, Adam, for a beer then a night out of wine tasting.