Noemi Berry, DoD #443

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The following is the writeup of a trip I took in Europe in the summer of 1992. Please accept a disclaimer and apology for length; I always try my best to cut these down, but brevity was not one of my born talents.

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Prologue: Cage Scouting

A few years ago, a friend said to me that it would be fun to tour Europe on a motorcycle. "That's a really dumb idea," I said scornfully. "You don't get from one place to another any faster than in a car, you can't carry as much stuff, you get rained on and you get cold. Why not rent a car instead?"

© 1995 Bruce Clarke

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The following is a transcription of a journal I kept while motorcycle touring the Central American country of Costa Rica. The tour was run by Pancho Villa Moto-Tours (1-800-233-0564). The motorcycles used were BMW F650s and were rented from Costa Rican Trails ((506) 221-3011). I have no affiliation with PVMT other than as a satisfied customer. This journal may be freely distributed so long as it is unaltered.

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Sunday January 1, 1995:

I had to catch an American Airlines flight out of Vancouver, B.C. to San Jose, Costa Rica via San Jose, California and Dallas, Texas. The flight left Vancouver at 8 AM so there were no New Year's celebrations for me! The flights went smoothly with no real turbulence. Gee, Dallas is sure smoggy- looking from the air.

Costa Rica is four hours (by jet) south by southeast of Dallas. This country is the size of Vermont and New Hampshire combined and is sandwiched between Nicaragua and Panama. I arrived late at night (Sunday) and so I caught a taxi downtown and ended up staying at an old hotel called the Amstel Morazon. It's a bit beat-up but it's clean and has a private washroom with hot showers. Hell it's nicer and cleaner than my bathroom at home, but I'm a bachelor so what does that prove?

The accounts already given of the crash square with what I remember. Steve, who was following me, has the most accurate awareness of what actually happened, so he can answer questions better than I can. From my own perspective, I think several factors contributed to the crash, of which inexperience is probably the key. Add to that: several miles of freshly oiled road immediately preceeding the crash site (increasing my tension, if nothing else), fatigue, and confusing light conditions. I went into the curve too fast. While my head was reciting "look into the curve," "roll on," my body was hitting the brakes--both of them, thank heaven--and my eyes were grimly focused on the volcanic boulders I soon got to meet close up and personal. I remember my glasses _not_ breaking against the face shield of my helmet. Judging from nasty bruises where I straddled the bike, I must have impacted, initially, while still firmly attached to the bike, and then been thrown over the handlebars into the boulders. Steve couldn't tell, because after I went over the embankment, he couldn't see me until he arrived at the edge of it. I believe I landed face down, and turned myself over (probably with help). Checked out the digits on all four extremities--yes, they worked. Pain in the left arm. Augghhh, yes! Head seemed clear. Lucky. Very lucky.

Aotearoa on Two Wheels: A Motorcycle Tour of New Zealand

by Bruce Clarke

Thursday, Oct. 21, 1993

I flew on a Canadian DC-10 out of Vancouver to Honolulu. I had a window-seat looking out over the right-wing. I'd never flown at night before. The take-off was great - it was clear out and all the city lights were visible. It looked a bit like the old Microsoft Flight Simulator game (only better of course)! 

The flight was 5.5 hours long; it went by very quickly actually. I was seated next to a young woman from Germany who had completed her teaching degree and had to wait until February 1994 before she could do her 'practicum'. She had just finished renting a car and driving around southern California, Nevada, and then up to British Columbia.

I needed a long weekend somewhere away from home, dogs, parents, and even grandkids. Sometime a couple of months ago Dahlface had coerced me into buying a ticket for Denver. She coerced Beth and David into welcoming us into their home. I'm quite sure that all of us made it difficult for her to achieve her objectives, but she persevered. She's really quite persistent.

I arrived in Denver on time, bright (actually cold and windy) on early on Friday morning (9/22). Wendy wasn't so lucky, however. Her flight was delayed and I hung out at the airport doing homework on the laptop and waiting to see her shining face. She arrived, Beth picked us up, and the fun continued for the entire weekend. We ate a lot, drank not-a-lot (honestly), hung out with Wendy's cousins, hung out with ourselves, did a butt load of shopping (Wendy has new red boots to go with her new red sweater and my new red purse!). We did email. We did a VERY small amount of homework. We called and messaged loved ones. We chatted. We watched the Denzlers at the TT. Bethie got kind of sick, but we made her continue playing anyway.

Slept late, didn't drag out of bed until the crack of 8. Had a bit o'breakfast and noticed it was getting darker outside, not lighter. Ah, time to go sit on the front porch and enjoy a fine cigar and listen to the music:Morning music, August 12, 2006Morning music, August 12, 2006: Sorry, no audio.

 

 

That little shower lasted about an hour. Clear and hot forecast for later . Steambath time.<

My pictures can be found here; http://tinyurl.com/e7x35 All and all... 2 River baths. 12 Vike eaten Hundreds of mile of curves. 1 Cell phone Suicide. 1 Oil Change 1 Heat treated Thermarest. 3 Liters of Bourbon 1 Pummeling in Lap Pool 1 DL steering head nut tightened. And many new Friends.

Trip report: http://mz.denz.googlepages.com/dayone-july17%2C2006-monday