It’s been a while since I updated as I am moving fairly quickly through Brazil at this time so down time to edit photos and work on the blog has been at a minimum, but if you’re still reading, thanks for sticking with me.
After leaving Montevideo I headed to the beach town of La Paloma, Uruguay. I met up with Javier who had kindly brought me some parts from California. Javier owns a motorcycle shop north of Los Angeles, CA, and spends quite a bit of time with his retired parents in La Paloma, Uruguay. He generously offered to bring whatever I needed from the States. Thanks Javier! So I put on a new chain and front sprocket, and did an oil change at Javier’s parents house. Its really a special treat to have these connections when you’re on the road for so long.
Javier and his folks, really wonderful people.
Just because you leave Argentina doesn’t mean that the great asados are over. The Beach Hostal in La Paloma put on a great asado a couple of times a week. the meat is every bit as good as in Argentina.
Sunset in La Paloma, Uruguay.
I met some nice Brazilian girls over new years in Uruguay.
Leaving La Paloma was a tough choice, as the town is very tranquilo, and beaches are wonderful, but Javier and I decided to go into Argentina to try and get a glimpse of the Dakar Rally passing near Cordoba, Argentina.
I was a long, straight, hot and boring two day ride, but on the way to Cordoba we did meet some really nice folks in Entre Rios, Argentina. We were in the grocery store picking up some supplies as we intended to camp that night. When we came out, a guy was standing at our bikes, and asked us where we were going to stay. When we replied that we didn’t know yet, he told us that he was in a moto club and they were having a big asado at his house. He said that we should come, and he also had an extra room where we could throw down our sleeping bags for the night. Once again, the hospitality of the Argentinian moto people impresses me yet again. It doesn’t matter where you are from, what you are riding, or what language you speak. If you are traveling on a moto, you are welcomed like a member of the family. Its just incredible and I am amazed at the great hospitality of everyone I have met on my entire trip. Meeting people this way is what its all about.
When we got to the place to try and watch the Dakar, it was a complete zoo of people, grid lock traffic, and it was impossible to see anything. In addition, the police blocked all access to the race course well ahead of time, so we couldn’t even sneak onto the course out in the sticks. It was a 1500 mile trip for nothing when I should have just stayed in La Paloma, Uruguay, enjoyed that wonderful beach town some more, and then gone straight to Brazil. Live and learn I guess. However, meeting the folks in Entre Rios made the whole trip worthwhile for me.
The next day, Javier headed for La Serena, Chile over one of the high Andean passes, and I made the 1000 mile straight, hot pavement journey to Iguazu, home of the world famous Iguazu falls.
Much of the way through Entre Rios province I had an interesting experience, no gasoline, anywhere. For some reason which I couldn’t quite figure out, almost all of the petrol stations were out of fuel. Some people told me it was because of the government, others told me it was because of the January holidays, and yet others told me that this is nothing special, its always like this, welcome to Argentina.
I stopped at one station and the girl working there told me the familiar, “no hay” (which means “there is not”) while doing the no, no finger waving thing that folks in South America are so fond of doing. I asked her when they would have fuel and she replied that they might have some in a few days. Wow, a few days! So I asked her if I could stay at her house while I waited for the gas, and without missing a beat she said that she knew where I could by a bicycle to continue my travels right away without needing gasoline.
Later on, I was about to really run out of gas so I stopped in a small town and figured that I would ask some people if they would be willing to sell me a few liters of fuel. This is how I do it in Baja, why not here too? This didn’t take long as the first people I asked were happy to sell me 15 liters, normal price, no gouging. Wow, that was extremely nice of them. In Baja they would have charged me almost double the going rate to make a little profit, which I am completely OK with in these circumstances. But here, these folks just genuinely wanted to help me out. How cool is that?
So after going almost 300 miles with out fueling up, I got lucky and figured that further north there must be a station that had gasoline. I did in fact find a place that had gasoline, another 100 miles up the road. However, there was a long line, and I was hoping they still had fuel when it was my turn to fill up.
The people ahead………..
The view behind. Por favor, can you spare a few liters for a poor moto traveler?
After 3 hours in line chatting with the other folks, it was my turn, and as it was my lucky day, they still had gas. However, just 2 vehicles behind me, the gas was gone and it was back to, “No hay nafta.” (there is no gasoline) Thanks for playing, please come again.
After a couple of very pleasant overnights in small towns in Entre Rios, I arrived at Iguazu, the home of the famous Iguazu Falls.
There is the Argentina side and the Brazil side. If you want to know which one is better, just ask people. The Argentinians will tell you that the Argentina side is far better. If you ask a Brazilian, well, they of course tell you that the Brazil side is the only one worth visiting. Ah yes, the old soccer rivalry between the Argentinians and Brazilian spreads into everything else. Ha! Argentina had the largest complex of catwalks around the falls so I went there. More objective tourists told me that both sides are very good, but different, and visiting both sides is worth the effort and expense. I skipped the Brazil side but only due to the heat and crowds of the holidays. I had enough of playing tourist by the time I left the Argentina side.
The falls are quite impressive and cover a large area.
The height and the volume of water cascading over the edge is quite a sight.
Looking up towards the part known as the Devil’s Throat.
These walkways run all through the park allowing you to get up close and personal with different sections of the falls, and of course get very wet in the process, which because of the heat this time of year is quite refreshing.
They had some boat trips going up to the falls but they were a bit expensive, about 200 bucks for an hour if I recall correctly, so I decided against it. If you don’t mind spending the cash, it looks like it would be pretty cool. But I’m saving my money for some other excursions later in my travels.
Niagra Falls is like a little trickle of water compared to Iguazu.
Beautiful.
Its really a magnificent place.
This is looking over to the Brazil side and over the edge into the Devil’s Throat. This was a neat experience because you could feel the thundering of the falls in your chest, and it was awesome to be this close to that much water cascading over the edge into the abyss.
After doing the tourist thing once again, I said a fond adios to Argentina and left for Brazil.
Bem vindo a Brasil.
From the Brazil side of the falls, Foz do Iguaçu, I made tracks for Curitiba. Once crossing into Brazil, everything was different. For one, they speak Portuguese. I thought it would be at least enough like Spanish that I could communicate. Boy was I wrong. If I spoke Spanish, people could understand me fairly well, but when they responded in Portuguese, it was like they were speaking Russian. It really does sound like a slavic language. So, I pretend to understand this language that sounds like Russian, nod my head and smile a lot, and say thank you, while I have no freaking idea what people are saying to me. However, the Brazilian people are so polite and friendly, that they talk to me anyway and patiently help me with whatever I need. Fantastic people here in Brazil.
Another thing that is different in Brazil are the beer cans. You know how when you open up that can of beer, look at the top, and the top is full of who knows what kind of crap stuck to the metal lip.
Apparently, they have solved this problem in Brazil.
Clean beer cans that you can drink out of without washing them off. How cool is that.
In Curitiba, about a day’s ride from Iguaçu, I met up with fellow motorcyclist Reginalo whom hosted me at his home. He asked how my ride was to Curitiba. I responded that it was really fast and I made great time, but I couldn’t understand why all the cars were going so slow. He laughed and asked me if I noticed all the speed cameras along the highway. Uh Oh. So that’s what those signs were about. Not good. I’m sure I passed around 100 of those things doing at least double the speed limit. No wonder people were flashing their lights and honking at me the whole way, and I thought they were just being friendly.
Reginaldo took me on a great ride around the countryside. He has done some big trips around South America on his DR 650. He guided me on some nice dirt roads around Curitiba. and as usual, I had a fantastic time. Nope, we are definitely not in Patagonia anymore.
Very tropical. The heat is brutal and I am soaked in sweat in no time.
Its a beautiful landscape in southern Brazil. Meeting local riders like Reginaldo and learning about where they live, what life is like for them, and of course riding with them is always a special experience.
Then as we were returning back home, like clockwork, every afternoon, the skies opened up and we took shelter at a gas station.
Thanks for everything Reginaldo, it was a pleasure to meet you amigo, and thank you so much for hosting me at your home and taking me riding around Curitiba. Keep in touch.
From Curitiba I headed to São Paulo to do a big service on the bike. It’s time for a little TLC as I had been pretty hard on the poor bike for the last, well, year and half. A fellow rider told me to check out a shop that he was very happy with, and they would also let me do my own work on the bike.
The place is called Street Fighters, and they are mainly a sport bike shop. However, when I pulled up with the big KTM, they were very welcoming and asked me what I needed. I told them I wanted to work on the bike a for a few days, and have them do the suspension and I would of course pay for the use of shop space. I wanted to do a valve check, a preventative water pump seal replacement, fork service, shock service, oil change, and some other odds and ends. They said to roll the bike in and I could get started whenever I liked. Of course, they washed the bike for me. Nice.
On the washing stand.
The head mechanic, Rogerio, used to set up the suspension on the off road bikes for the Brazilian KTM team, so I figured I would have him do the fork and shock service while I did the rest of the stuff.
Rogerio. Everyone calls him Chino, but of course he is Japanese.
The folks at Street Fighters were great, and the coolest part is that on Thursday and Friday nights around 7 pm, the shop turns into a bar full of motorcycle people. They even have live music.
Monica races supermoto.
I met many wonderful people in São Paulo and got the bike all ready for the long journey north through Brazil.
Saludos.