One day… you have to live your dream. Solo through South America
- Thread starter Pumpy
- Start date
Enjoying your write up Pumpy ... keep it coming please 
Sad to hear about Adrian .... RIP
Sad to hear about Adrian .... RIP
Ela, you're an inspiration to us all, I followed much of this report on your blog, so nice to catch up on some of the bits I have missed.
Life will never be the same, but I bet you have learned a lot about life and yourself - what an amazing opportunity you had - and here's to some more!
I can't wait to see you and talk through your experiences in person!
Life will never be the same, but I bet you have learned a lot about life and yourself - what an amazing opportunity you had - and here's to some more!
I can't wait to see you and talk through your experiences in person!
Ela, cracking write up, please keep up the good work.
have to confess to only being slightly jealous
have to confess to only being slightly jealous
Racoon
junkyard angel
Great write up,thank you.
Inspiring and real.
Out of all the ride reports this makes me say 'yes i can do that' so i will! Thank you.
Inspiring and real.
Out of all the ride reports this makes me say 'yes i can do that' so i will! Thank you.
Into Uruguay
The Ruta 9 out of Buenos Aires was long and uneventful - but the fact that I had finally hit the road and was riding the Pan-American Highway was excitement enough. Industrial areas changed to wide open Pampa and the traffic ebbed away kilometre by kilometre. I joined the Ruta 12 north near Zarate and crossed the Río Paraná Delta via two impressive bridges.
Autopista Mesopotamica
At Ceibas began the Ruta 14 and I stopped after exactly 100 miles to check the fuel consumption - due to my broken foot I hadn’t test ridden the bike properly and only had a rough idea how long a tank would last me. But hey, just under four litres per 100 kilometres or 72 miles to the gallon (fully loaded on the motorway) was a result I can’t really complain about.
The Pampa is mainly flat…
But if you look around you can still find things worth seeing - vintage, beautiful and still in use (I'm referring to the truck, cheeky!)
The GPS indicated a shortcut to Gualeguaychú and I had a quick look at a sandy dirt road. No, I was not ready for trail riding yet and so I continued on the highway until the official Ruta 136 branched off to the east. Over the beautiful Puente Internacional Libertador General San Martín I crossed the Río Uruguay and arrived at the border between Argentina and Uruguay.
If you look closely you can spot the bridge in the background
Rarely have I experienced such an efficient border crossing: although having to pass through four different desks - pre-check and start of the procedure, personal details, vehicle documents, insurance and customs plus temporary import registration - everything was dealt with as quickly and friendly as possible. I think I needed less than 15 minutes and that included chatting about my trip, the bike and the origin of some of the officers’ German surnames such as 'Ehrhardt' and 'Schmidt'.
Whilst changing money and talking to Leopoldo, the nice chap in the tourist office straight after the border, I thought it would be quite appropriate for a vegetarian of 30 years to stay in Fray Bentos, the home of the Liebig Extract of Meat...
Leopoldo recommended the campsite at the Parador Playa Ubici and off I went to find an idyllic little hostel directly by the river. Hostess Antonela was just about to leave when I arrived but stopped immediately to show me the facilities and the rooms from which I could choose, as I was the only guest this Sunday evening. Well, for the equivalent of £8.00 I decided to leave tent and sleeping bag in the luggage roll.
Parador Playa Ubici in Fray Bentos
Antonela carried all my panniers upstairs and made me really feel at home. The travel guide hadn't exaggerated about the warmth, helpfulness and hospitality of the Uruguayan people.
After transforming myself into a civilized, nicely smelling human being again, I headed into town for dinner, allegedly just a short stroll away from the hostel. Well, I won't bore you with the details of my odyssey through Fray Bentos but it was at least a three-kilometre walk until I found the excellent Pizzeria 'Los Immigrantes' in the lively town centre. Not a big deal normally but I was still limping! When I finally returned to the Parador after another 3 kilometres my ankle looked like a tennis ball. Maybe I should have splashed out and taken a taxi...
However, I found Fray Bentos a nice place with friendly and helpful people. Although I crossed a few rather un-touristy corners I never felt uncomfortable and my greetings were always returned with a smile. I was looking forward to exploring more of this likeable country the following day.
Río Uruguay by night
The Ruta 9 out of Buenos Aires was long and uneventful - but the fact that I had finally hit the road and was riding the Pan-American Highway was excitement enough. Industrial areas changed to wide open Pampa and the traffic ebbed away kilometre by kilometre. I joined the Ruta 12 north near Zarate and crossed the Río Paraná Delta via two impressive bridges.
Autopista Mesopotamica
At Ceibas began the Ruta 14 and I stopped after exactly 100 miles to check the fuel consumption - due to my broken foot I hadn’t test ridden the bike properly and only had a rough idea how long a tank would last me. But hey, just under four litres per 100 kilometres or 72 miles to the gallon (fully loaded on the motorway) was a result I can’t really complain about.
The Pampa is mainly flat…
But if you look around you can still find things worth seeing - vintage, beautiful and still in use (I'm referring to the truck, cheeky!)
The GPS indicated a shortcut to Gualeguaychú and I had a quick look at a sandy dirt road. No, I was not ready for trail riding yet and so I continued on the highway until the official Ruta 136 branched off to the east. Over the beautiful Puente Internacional Libertador General San Martín I crossed the Río Uruguay and arrived at the border between Argentina and Uruguay.
If you look closely you can spot the bridge in the background
Rarely have I experienced such an efficient border crossing: although having to pass through four different desks - pre-check and start of the procedure, personal details, vehicle documents, insurance and customs plus temporary import registration - everything was dealt with as quickly and friendly as possible. I think I needed less than 15 minutes and that included chatting about my trip, the bike and the origin of some of the officers’ German surnames such as 'Ehrhardt' and 'Schmidt'.
Whilst changing money and talking to Leopoldo, the nice chap in the tourist office straight after the border, I thought it would be quite appropriate for a vegetarian of 30 years to stay in Fray Bentos, the home of the Liebig Extract of Meat...
Leopoldo recommended the campsite at the Parador Playa Ubici and off I went to find an idyllic little hostel directly by the river. Hostess Antonela was just about to leave when I arrived but stopped immediately to show me the facilities and the rooms from which I could choose, as I was the only guest this Sunday evening. Well, for the equivalent of £8.00 I decided to leave tent and sleeping bag in the luggage roll.
Parador Playa Ubici in Fray Bentos
Antonela carried all my panniers upstairs and made me really feel at home. The travel guide hadn't exaggerated about the warmth, helpfulness and hospitality of the Uruguayan people.
After transforming myself into a civilized, nicely smelling human being again, I headed into town for dinner, allegedly just a short stroll away from the hostel. Well, I won't bore you with the details of my odyssey through Fray Bentos but it was at least a three-kilometre walk until I found the excellent Pizzeria 'Los Immigrantes' in the lively town centre. Not a big deal normally but I was still limping! When I finally returned to the Parador after another 3 kilometres my ankle looked like a tennis ball. Maybe I should have splashed out and taken a taxi...
However, I found Fray Bentos a nice place with friendly and helpful people. Although I crossed a few rather un-touristy corners I never felt uncomfortable and my greetings were always returned with a smile. I was looking forward to exploring more of this likeable country the following day.
Río Uruguay by night
Goose
Registered user
stunning - I got up at 5am to do some work... ended up reading your Rep... now 08:17 and still here....
Great, Fantastic... well done... NOW WHERE"s THE REST?
Great, Fantastic... well done... NOW WHERE"s THE REST?
stunning - I got up at 5am to do some work... ended up reading your Rep... now 08:17 and still here....
I'm really sorry that I interfered with your productivity - I'll try not to do it again...
Thank you all for your lovely comments; I'm glad you are enjoying the report so far and will post the next instalment very soon...
New Berlin, first trails and the Río Uruguay
The next morning I was greeted with this view of the Puente Internacional over the Río Uruguay
The Pulp Mill on the banks of the river looked slightly less romantic than last night... These factories along the Río Uruguay have been the cause of ongoing controversy between Uruguay and Argentina, although a series of constructive meetings between the presidents of the two countries have taken place at the end of July. If you are interested in more background information have a look here.
During my morning walk I spotted a lot of dead fish lining the shore, which was a rather sobering sight. Officially the fish mortality was caused by the freezing cold earlier that week, so hostess Antonela told me, but she thought it was down to the sewage of the manufactories further up the Río Negro.
Breakfast in the sun
The cat kept me company.
After packing up I went for a sight-seeing tour through Fray Bentos to find out where and how far I had been walking the night before and to appreciate the home town of the Liebig Extract of Meat Company - founded by the German organic chemist Baron Justus von Liebig in the 19th century - in daylight.
Main Square of Fray Bentos
The former plant of the Liebig Extract of Meat Company, shut down in 1979.
Then it was back to the Ruta 3 and heading north. Leopoldo had mentioned the village of Nuevo Berlin the previous day and I couldn't resist to make a detour to this new edition of my hometown by the Río Uruguay.
The city map looks slightly different...
… and so does the Kurfürstendamm….
I didn't fancy retracing my tracks and therefore took a dirt road leading roughly towards Paysandú, my next destination. The first attempt ended in a cul-de-sac, but as there was only a horse to ask for directions, I just tried another trail. It was bumpy, rutted and sandy but led me to a tarmac road which joined the Ruta 3 again after a while - voilà!
Paysandú
To be perfectly honest - and I'd like to apologise to my Uruguayan readers - the Ruta 3 was not particularly exciting and when I spotted a sign to a 'Parque Histórico', I happily went on a little excursion to the Meseta de Artigas.
The road was lovely
Lined by orange groves
Supposedly it's winter over here...
I was even treated to a little trail ride when I entered the historical park.
... where I had a fantastic view over the Río Uruguay
The bust of General José Gervasio Artigas, the national hero of Uruguay, after whom the site is named.
Still life with DRZ
I was not the only one enjoying the views...
A last look north...
... then I returned to the Ruta 3 again. The GPS showed a campsite near the Reservoir Salto Grande and so I rode past the Termas del Daymán and the beautiful town of Salto until I arrived at the lakeside. Only then did it dawn on me that the indicated campsite was actually on the Argentinean side of the reservoir (I had downloaded the map software from an Argentinean GPS forum). But I still wanted to stay a night in Uruguay! There were still signs to a campsite on the eastern shore of the reservoir and so I followed a little trail further north into the woods. Nada - nothing. It was getting dark and I still hadn't found a place for the night.
Finally I pulled up at the Hotel Horacio Quiroga Spa Termal. “Lo siento, I'm sorry, the signs stand for day-camping only and the nearest campsite is at Termas del Daymán, 30 kilometres south from here,” I was told by the friendly receptionist. Mmm, that's where I just passed through an hour ago and I really don't like going back. “How much is a single room in your hotel? 139? US Dollars? Thanks very much”, - back to the Termas it is then.
It was really getting late; against my usual behaviour (I'm German after all!) I broke the speed limit of 75 km/h and still arrived at the Termas del Daymán only after dark. No campsite was to be seen. But there - "Hostal Canela" said a sign, that's where I will stay the night!
The land lady was welcoming and very interested in my bike. She helped me carrying all the luggage into my room and made sure I felt at home. For the equivalent of £16.00 I was given a whole apartment to myself. The photos are from the next morning but you get the idea how wonderful the place already appeared at night.
Hostal Canela at Termas del Daymán
The Foyer
My apartment…
And another picture - just to show off a bit...
Of course, when I walked into the centre of the village for dinner I saw the campsite I had been looking for in the dark and a lot more hotels on the other side of the main road...
However, I was really happy with the place I was staying at and if you ever find yourself in the area, Hostal Canela can be highly recommended.
The following day would take me into Argentina again.
The next morning I was greeted with this view of the Puente Internacional over the Río Uruguay
The Pulp Mill on the banks of the river looked slightly less romantic than last night... These factories along the Río Uruguay have been the cause of ongoing controversy between Uruguay and Argentina, although a series of constructive meetings between the presidents of the two countries have taken place at the end of July. If you are interested in more background information have a look here.
During my morning walk I spotted a lot of dead fish lining the shore, which was a rather sobering sight. Officially the fish mortality was caused by the freezing cold earlier that week, so hostess Antonela told me, but she thought it was down to the sewage of the manufactories further up the Río Negro.
Breakfast in the sun
The cat kept me company.
After packing up I went for a sight-seeing tour through Fray Bentos to find out where and how far I had been walking the night before and to appreciate the home town of the Liebig Extract of Meat Company - founded by the German organic chemist Baron Justus von Liebig in the 19th century - in daylight.
Main Square of Fray Bentos
The former plant of the Liebig Extract of Meat Company, shut down in 1979.
Then it was back to the Ruta 3 and heading north. Leopoldo had mentioned the village of Nuevo Berlin the previous day and I couldn't resist to make a detour to this new edition of my hometown by the Río Uruguay.
The city map looks slightly different...
… and so does the Kurfürstendamm….
I didn't fancy retracing my tracks and therefore took a dirt road leading roughly towards Paysandú, my next destination. The first attempt ended in a cul-de-sac, but as there was only a horse to ask for directions, I just tried another trail. It was bumpy, rutted and sandy but led me to a tarmac road which joined the Ruta 3 again after a while - voilà!
Paysandú
To be perfectly honest - and I'd like to apologise to my Uruguayan readers - the Ruta 3 was not particularly exciting and when I spotted a sign to a 'Parque Histórico', I happily went on a little excursion to the Meseta de Artigas.
The road was lovely
Lined by orange groves
Supposedly it's winter over here...
I was even treated to a little trail ride when I entered the historical park.
... where I had a fantastic view over the Río Uruguay
The bust of General José Gervasio Artigas, the national hero of Uruguay, after whom the site is named.
Still life with DRZ
I was not the only one enjoying the views...
A last look north...
... then I returned to the Ruta 3 again. The GPS showed a campsite near the Reservoir Salto Grande and so I rode past the Termas del Daymán and the beautiful town of Salto until I arrived at the lakeside. Only then did it dawn on me that the indicated campsite was actually on the Argentinean side of the reservoir (I had downloaded the map software from an Argentinean GPS forum). But I still wanted to stay a night in Uruguay! There were still signs to a campsite on the eastern shore of the reservoir and so I followed a little trail further north into the woods. Nada - nothing. It was getting dark and I still hadn't found a place for the night.
Finally I pulled up at the Hotel Horacio Quiroga Spa Termal. “Lo siento, I'm sorry, the signs stand for day-camping only and the nearest campsite is at Termas del Daymán, 30 kilometres south from here,” I was told by the friendly receptionist. Mmm, that's where I just passed through an hour ago and I really don't like going back. “How much is a single room in your hotel? 139? US Dollars? Thanks very much”, - back to the Termas it is then.
It was really getting late; against my usual behaviour (I'm German after all!) I broke the speed limit of 75 km/h and still arrived at the Termas del Daymán only after dark. No campsite was to be seen. But there - "Hostal Canela" said a sign, that's where I will stay the night!
The land lady was welcoming and very interested in my bike. She helped me carrying all the luggage into my room and made sure I felt at home. For the equivalent of £16.00 I was given a whole apartment to myself. The photos are from the next morning but you get the idea how wonderful the place already appeared at night.
Hostal Canela at Termas del Daymán
The Foyer
My apartment…
And another picture - just to show off a bit...
Of course, when I walked into the centre of the village for dinner I saw the campsite I had been looking for in the dark and a lot more hotels on the other side of the main road...
However, I was really happy with the place I was staying at and if you ever find yourself in the area, Hostal Canela can be highly recommended.
The following day would take me into Argentina again.
From Uruguay to Argentina
The following morning the nice landlady at the Hostal Canela served breakfast in my room - did I mention my fabulous room?
- with fresh media lunas (half moons - croissants), café con leche and zumo de naranja natural (freshly pressed orange juice) - hmm!
I thanked her very much, promised I would recommend the place to everyone I know (done!) and everyone I would meet on the road, and set off towards Argentina. But no, I couldn't leave this lovely country without a Uruguay sticker for my moto! So I stopped at the next filling station in Salto. The guys were really friendly, offered me a sticker of their fuel company but unfortunately they couldn't help me further. But the shopping mall three blocks further down the road would certainly sell the object of desire.
When I pulled into the car park, I was immediately approached by a security guard - of course, I had done a U-turn and was going into the wrong direction of a one-way system... No, he just wanted to point out that it would be much safer for me to park in the underground garage. Muchas gracias, Officer, and off I went into the underworld.
Again, another security guard came over straight away, reassured me that his colleagues would have a close eye on my DRZ and then he accompanied me through the whole shopping centre on the hunt for a Uruguay sticker. Unfortunately no shop was stocking such a thing. I tried the motorcycle shop across the street, another filling station, the supermercado - but nothing. My security friend was really sorry and sent me into the city centre. We parted shaking hands: suerte y buen viaje - good luck and a safe trip.
Great, I wasn't even aware that I had missed the actual centre of Salto the evening before. So a brief sight-seeing tour was on the menu.
I stopped at the Oficina de Turismo, the most obvious place you would think, but they didn't have any stickers either - a kiosco would probably be a better bet. So I looked for a parking space for my bike – “Over here, Señora!” and three young men busied themselves lifting and moving lots of motorcycles about that were already stacked in a tight row by the side of the road. But, oh wonder, soon there was space for my fully loaded DRZ. One of the guys, Nelson, offered to accompany me on my quest for a sticker and together we roamed the shops of Salto. Well, I should have come during the World Cup, then I would have been spoilt for choice but now? “Lo siento, no hay”, - sorry, we don't have it.
Then, I had almost given up hope; we found a small and pretty unlikely shop that sold stickers of Uruguay - hooray! Nelson was obviously proud of our success and back at the bike I gave him one of my London pens as a little thank you. You know, the ones where a tourist walks over the Tower Bridge when you move it. Nelson was really pleased and again, we shook hands like old friends when I left.
Then it was off to the Salto Grande Reservoir and the dam that connects Uruguay and Argentina.
The officials at the border didn't seem to know what they were supposed to do with me and the temporary import of a foreign motorcycle but after half an hour I was on my way again - not without asking this driver if I could take a picture of his peculiar truck.
Back on the Ruta 14 the ride was pretty uneventful. The countryside was still flat, the corrupt police at kilometre 341 (who even have a dedicated thread in the South America Forum on Horizons Unlimited) had taken a day off and waved me through, and so I turned right onto the Ruta 129 towards Monte Caseros searching for more excitement. The road was dead straight as well but now I could feel a strong side wind, which made the riding a bit more 'interesting'. Shortly before I reached the town I noticed a dirt road branching off to the north (which was my ultimate direction).
In Monte Caseros the tarmac disappeared and I ended up in front of some military barracks - probably not the best point to stop and look at the map. The road was so curved that I couldn't bring the loaded bike to a safe halt without risking falling over, and therefore I didn't consult the map at that point; otherwise I would have known that I should have searched for the Ruta 47 towards Paso de los Libres... But so I turned back to the gravel road that I had spotted earlier, the Ruta 25.
There I had my excitement - ruts, gravel, sand and corrugations...
But the countryside was nice and everyone greeted each other when meeting on the road, which I liked very much.
After 25 kilometres I joined the Ruta 14 again and decided to stay in Paso de los Libres that night. As it would become a habit during this trip, I did a little sight-seeing tour of the town for orientation purposes and for finding a hotel. I asked a nice lady with her tiny daughter on a quad at the traffic lights and she pointed me to the Hotel Alejandro. Mmm, it looked pretty expensive - and so it was indeed: 180 Argentinean Pesos, which is roughly £30. Are there any cheaper hotels around? Yes, said the friendly receptionist, the Hotel Imperial two blocks from here. And he was right, bed & breakfast were only 80 Pesos (£13.30) there and aparcamiento seguro (safe parking) was available as well.
Now I have to confess that I rode to the car park without a helmet and on the wrong side of the road (well, the entrance was on the left!) and of course, at that particular moment in time a police car came round the corner.
Fortunately, they didn't even bother to give me a reproachful look...
Showered, shaved and changed, I went searching for an internet café in order to upload photos, write an email to my one and only Possu and catch up with my blog, where I was still stuck in Buenos Aires… It was just before midnight when I left the place, realised that I had forgotten to eat dinner, that the streets were deserted and that I had lost my sense of direction.
But I didn't feel uncomfortable at all in this friendly town. At a corner I saw two men standing around and when I approached them asking if they knew where my hotel was, they were very helpful, chatty and pointed me into the right direction. Tired and hungry I got back to the Hotel Imperial, hoping that next morning's breakfast would be plentiful...
The following morning the nice landlady at the Hostal Canela served breakfast in my room - did I mention my fabulous room?
I thanked her very much, promised I would recommend the place to everyone I know (done!) and everyone I would meet on the road, and set off towards Argentina. But no, I couldn't leave this lovely country without a Uruguay sticker for my moto! So I stopped at the next filling station in Salto. The guys were really friendly, offered me a sticker of their fuel company but unfortunately they couldn't help me further. But the shopping mall three blocks further down the road would certainly sell the object of desire.
When I pulled into the car park, I was immediately approached by a security guard - of course, I had done a U-turn and was going into the wrong direction of a one-way system... No, he just wanted to point out that it would be much safer for me to park in the underground garage. Muchas gracias, Officer, and off I went into the underworld.
Again, another security guard came over straight away, reassured me that his colleagues would have a close eye on my DRZ and then he accompanied me through the whole shopping centre on the hunt for a Uruguay sticker. Unfortunately no shop was stocking such a thing. I tried the motorcycle shop across the street, another filling station, the supermercado - but nothing. My security friend was really sorry and sent me into the city centre. We parted shaking hands: suerte y buen viaje - good luck and a safe trip.
Great, I wasn't even aware that I had missed the actual centre of Salto the evening before. So a brief sight-seeing tour was on the menu.
I stopped at the Oficina de Turismo, the most obvious place you would think, but they didn't have any stickers either - a kiosco would probably be a better bet. So I looked for a parking space for my bike – “Over here, Señora!” and three young men busied themselves lifting and moving lots of motorcycles about that were already stacked in a tight row by the side of the road. But, oh wonder, soon there was space for my fully loaded DRZ. One of the guys, Nelson, offered to accompany me on my quest for a sticker and together we roamed the shops of Salto. Well, I should have come during the World Cup, then I would have been spoilt for choice but now? “Lo siento, no hay”, - sorry, we don't have it.
Then, I had almost given up hope; we found a small and pretty unlikely shop that sold stickers of Uruguay - hooray! Nelson was obviously proud of our success and back at the bike I gave him one of my London pens as a little thank you. You know, the ones where a tourist walks over the Tower Bridge when you move it. Nelson was really pleased and again, we shook hands like old friends when I left.
Then it was off to the Salto Grande Reservoir and the dam that connects Uruguay and Argentina.
The officials at the border didn't seem to know what they were supposed to do with me and the temporary import of a foreign motorcycle but after half an hour I was on my way again - not without asking this driver if I could take a picture of his peculiar truck.
Back on the Ruta 14 the ride was pretty uneventful. The countryside was still flat, the corrupt police at kilometre 341 (who even have a dedicated thread in the South America Forum on Horizons Unlimited) had taken a day off and waved me through, and so I turned right onto the Ruta 129 towards Monte Caseros searching for more excitement. The road was dead straight as well but now I could feel a strong side wind, which made the riding a bit more 'interesting'. Shortly before I reached the town I noticed a dirt road branching off to the north (which was my ultimate direction).
In Monte Caseros the tarmac disappeared and I ended up in front of some military barracks - probably not the best point to stop and look at the map. The road was so curved that I couldn't bring the loaded bike to a safe halt without risking falling over, and therefore I didn't consult the map at that point; otherwise I would have known that I should have searched for the Ruta 47 towards Paso de los Libres... But so I turned back to the gravel road that I had spotted earlier, the Ruta 25.
There I had my excitement - ruts, gravel, sand and corrugations...
After 25 kilometres I joined the Ruta 14 again and decided to stay in Paso de los Libres that night. As it would become a habit during this trip, I did a little sight-seeing tour of the town for orientation purposes and for finding a hotel. I asked a nice lady with her tiny daughter on a quad at the traffic lights and she pointed me to the Hotel Alejandro. Mmm, it looked pretty expensive - and so it was indeed: 180 Argentinean Pesos, which is roughly £30. Are there any cheaper hotels around? Yes, said the friendly receptionist, the Hotel Imperial two blocks from here. And he was right, bed & breakfast were only 80 Pesos (£13.30) there and aparcamiento seguro (safe parking) was available as well.
Now I have to confess that I rode to the car park without a helmet and on the wrong side of the road (well, the entrance was on the left!) and of course, at that particular moment in time a police car came round the corner.
Showered, shaved and changed, I went searching for an internet café in order to upload photos, write an email to my one and only Possu and catch up with my blog, where I was still stuck in Buenos Aires… It was just before midnight when I left the place, realised that I had forgotten to eat dinner, that the streets were deserted and that I had lost my sense of direction.
But I didn't feel uncomfortable at all in this friendly town. At a corner I saw two men standing around and when I approached them asking if they knew where my hotel was, they were very helpful, chatty and pointed me into the right direction. Tired and hungry I got back to the Hotel Imperial, hoping that next morning's breakfast would be plentiful...
Ian Lynch
Registered user
Fantastic Stuff,
Thanks for sharing your adventure with us.
LGB
Thanks for sharing your adventure with us.
LGB
Great write up - enjoying this
b0mb3r
Registered user
Fantastic .... im in
Lady O
Registered user
Fantastic .... im in
Hi Ela, phew also got caught up with the read when I should be asleep,
Will stop for now and continue tomorrow. You spurred me on when I needed a push to do my test and now you've inspired me again. Maybe one day...when the brood has gone and my pit crew has recovered after seeing this. Glad your home safe.
Hugs
denise
Maybe one day...when the brood has gone and my pit crew has recovered after seeing this. Glad your home safe.
Hugs
denise
See what you've started Ela?
Pit Crew.
Possu
Registered user
See what you've started Ela?
Pit Crew.
Forry & myself are Denise's pit crew, perfectly capable of taking apart a functioning KTM for no good reason other than incompetence....
In case anyone's wondering about the next installment, Her Ladyship is currently sunning herself in Tenerife whilst I'm at home.
Forry & myself are Denise's pit crew, perfectly capable of taking apart a functioning KTM for no good reason other than incompetence....
In case anyone's wondering about the next installment, Her Ladyship is currently sunning herself in Tenerife whilst I'm at home.
Incompetence
It was quite funny afterwards who'd have thought a KTM had a kill switch
