When I was in Cuzco I had planned a train trip 15 kilometres to see Machu Picchu the next morning, but disaster struck over night when a massive rain storm caused a mud slip to cover the rail track and bury a small village, I understand that 12 people lost their lives that night, a very sad thing indeed.

There was nothing I could do but move on and head back down the Alps towards Nasca by the coast. The incredible roads took my mind off the tragety that had happened high up in the Ande's, These people are poor enough without this extra pressure on them.

With this ride came a meeting with an American biker who had stopped to take pictures. You don't see travellers on big bikes every day, so I stopped and had a few words with him, only to be told about the lack of petrol to Nasca, and also from his on board Sat nav that we were a few feet below 15000 ft above sea level and that he had come through a bit of snow, but not much at this latitude and time of year, but we were both a little short of breath, all the same.

As reported earlier, I just got to Nasca with almost no fuel at all, Had a guy come rushing up to me to show me a hotel, and as it was one of only a couple I took it.

There was a bar and some music and a restaurant, which suited me fine.

They also sold tickets to fly over the Nasca lines that you can really only see from the air, So I thought why not as I was dissapointed not to see Machu Picchu.

This is the hotel and the bottom right is supposed to be a parrot, There were many others but my camera is not so good from a plane window.

From Nasca, I had to make up a little time so it was back on the Pan Americano Highway to Lima, where I got totally lost, Thank goodness I had a compass and a friendly fellow biker who showed me out of Lima,

On to Huaraz about another 150 kilometers north to avoid staying in Lima.

Seemed I was the only person staying in one of two hotels in the small town. Only the bottom part of the hotel was built and the next floor above was a building site, Still the young couple running the hotel were very friendly, and while I was there it was very quiet.

Heading towards Ecuador found the old bike climbing back into the Andes from the flat coastline of Peru, I was hoping the border crossing would be OK because the road was getting rough again until it became unsealed with gravel to content with. After some time I could see the crossing up ahead with a que of the usual trucks all waiting.

However, about half a kilometer before the border was a small shed or guard house, where two soldiers were waiting to stop me. They asked to see my passport which I did and then asked me to go inside the hut, where there was this Official looking soldier obviously the man in charge.

He looked at my passport and asked where I was going, and then said I was to pay a toll.

I asked what the almost $A20 toll was for, and he said to help pay for the roads, but could'nt help noticing that other vehicles were not being stopped, and mentioned it to him. He answered it is for foreigners only to pay. I had a feeling that this was going to end up in his back pocket as the two guards were told to stay outside. One thing I did learn before this trip was to always ask for an official receipt, so that I could show that I had paid at the borber just down the road.

Well, this set him off into a rage as he refused to give me a receipt. I stood my ground even though they were armed, I dont think they were even there to collect tolls but to just guard the area. So I said that I would pay with a receipt to give to the proper border officials.

Then he just told me to get out and go, which I did. The two smiling gaurds who could speak no English, had no idea what had just gone on.

The guy was on the make, and asking for the receipt had stumped him.

The actual Border crossing was fairly straight forward after that, and with my papers stamped I was on my way towards the valley of the volcanos and Quito, the capital city.

Think some ladies were a little shy have pictures taken, Sorry girls.

This site was 3000 metres above sea level, and these ladies were selling sea shells that they had dug out of the rocks at the burial site.

When somebody important died a cave was carved out of the rocks for their bones to lie and the more important you were the higher you were placed, but before your bones were placed into your cave your body was buried into soft ground to allow all traces of flesh to decompose,

Then you were dug up again and had a ceremony with your tribes people to which your bones were placed into your final resting place, which I founf fascinating.

Riding through Riobamba and Ambato the roads were quite rough, It was overcast and a little cool to say the least, then I arrived in Quito and stopped on the outskirts, looking down into what looked like a crater. How the heck was I going to find my way through here. You enter down a very long decent, a bit like La Paz in Bolivia. houses all around you. You just keep going down until becoming totally lost in what I thought was the centre of the city at the very bottom, but there was no centre, just more buildings, and when you look up to the edges of the crater you feel like your trapped in a massive washing machine and your at the very bottom.

I looked for a hotel or guest house but recognised nothing. It felt like I was in a panic and all I wanted to do was leave this place. I asked a few people the road to Columbia, but it was obvious they did not want to talk to strange people on big motorbikes. From where I was I could see all the roads leading out of this huge crater above me. I looked at my compass and looked for the road that pointed nearest to north. The roads inside the city were very bad, and with lots of dogs that I did'nt like the look of going around in packs looking for food and crossing the road like you were'nt there. After an hour or so I found a road that kept heading north out of the city and followed it till I found a gas station, where I did get an answer that I wanted and was on the road to the Columbian border. Now I was feeling much better, and the worry about crossing into Columbia was not worth thinking about, because all I wanted to do at this stage of the day was to find a place to get my head down and so on to Ibarra where I found a rough but quiet room for the night.

I was a little nervous about arriving at the Columbian border, You hear all sorts of stories about the civil war that has been going on for years and I was hoping I would not get caught up in any problems during my stay.

After leaving Ibarra in Ecuador and taking a nice but rough road towards the border at Tullan I arrived at the border at around 10.30am which is quite high up into the foothills of the Andes. I showed my passport and the papers for the bike. They were more interested in the bike and whether I owned it or not, but all the registration papers and the Carnet de Passage or bike passport seemed to add towards my favour, and they eventually allowed me to be on my way.

This road was still the Pan Americano I think only it was quite small with little traffic apart from a few trucks. The one thing that did stand out was the number of soldiers patrolling the roadside about every kilometer. I guess I travelled about ten kilometres before I was stopped and had to produce my papers, all was well and with a nod I was allowed to leave.

I must remind readers that foreign travellers are very few and far between. I had counted six bikers all heading south and one Dutch land cruiser with four people in it heading north who I had seen in a couple of places on my trip, and by now we gave the odd wave to each other which was quite comforting when your on your own. I quite liked the ride in Columbia, the roads were winding and interesting but it was not long before I had another stop. This time it was with more soldiers at a roadside hut on a rather steep slope down a hill.

This was going to be bloody awkward as the bike with all it's kit on board weigh's almost 300 Kg's so I had to stop by pointing back up the hill, so I could use the side stand to get off. Then the guy who stopped me wanted my papers again, which went OK and then wanted to ride the bike. Next to the guard house were three small 125 motorbikes which I guess were theirs. I tried to put him off the idea but to no avail.

This was where things almost got out of control, We turned the bike around to face down the hill which would make it easier for him, Then he took his gun off, Some semi automatic, (Probably an AK 47) and gave it to me to hold. Bloody hell I thought, I don't like this at all. As soon as he got under way I could see he had no Idea how heavy my bike was going to be. Then his mates came out to find me holding his gun as he was just about to fall off into the side of the road, They grabbed the gun off me before laughing at the guy on the bike. I was'nt laughing much as that bike had to get me a very long way.

Fortunately all he did was to twist the forks and scratch the paint a little.

He looked pretty embarrassed about the whole thing then shook my hand and let me go.

Then off to find somewhere to get some lunch.

The views in southern Columbia were very nice. The roads twisty and mostly sealed and the mountain air full of scents I have not smelt before, So with just a few more kilometres where I tried not to look at any more soldiers or catch their eye, I found a nice little place to relax and take in that I was actually in Columbia, a place I'd never thought I would visit in my lifetme.

Later that day I stopped at a resturant which also had some rooms to stay in which I did. It had been quite a day with a few nervous moments to contend with. In the resturant I was talking to some people who were suprised that I had wanted to come to Columbia and had to explain that it was part of a trip through the America's to Canada and the UK.

People react in different ways when you explain such things to them, Some look away in total disbelieve, and some ask you all about it. However, it's good to talk to anyone who can give you information, and did I need it for my own safety.

I asked why were there so many soldiers along the highway, to be told that these are government soldiers guarding the roads during the day, but at the end of the day they disappear and the road is a no go area at night and then used by the freedom fighters for moving contraband and other things at night. The largest groupe of these rebels is known as the F.A.R.C and they have been fighting the government for many years.

I was told that more than 40,000 people have lost their lives during the struggles, but not able to confirm these figures myself, Guess you will have to look these things up to find the truth.

So with all this spinning around in my head it was off to my bed and hope that all will be well until the morning.

Once again, I was stopped a little further down the road to check my papers and again more interest was in the bike than me. You dont see many private vehicles in this part of the world only trucks, and mini vans being used as taxi's, that all stare at you when you pass by. Must be like us seeing a Camel on the M25 London ring road or something. The papers were OK but I was reminded to keep off the roads at night, and no one wanted to ride the bike this time which was good, Hard to argue with a guy and his gun, I guess.

Anyway the day was about to unfold, and not in a nice way at all.

The road to Popayan was a pleasure to ride with lots of twists and turns, up's and downs and quite narrrow in places. The trees and plant life were so colourful and the scents from them drifted into my helmet and into me, I was enjoying this so much.

On the way I had stopped in a small roadside shop to buy a snack and some (Seven Up) soft drink that I could have later in the afternoon. By now it was getting pretty hot, I guessed well over 30 deg's C.

Up in the hills I decided to stop before my soft drink became too warm to drink as I was now gasping for some liquids and a chocolate bar to keep me going until I got to Popayan. Then I found a place to stop at about 3.30 in the afternoon, which had trees to shade me while I rested, at what looked like an entrance to somebodys property, only you could'nt see it.

I had in mind the thought that I needed to get going again before it got too late. It had also been quite a few kilometres since I've seen any soldiers or any vehicles for that matter, and when I had stopped all you could hear was the bird life, which was very pleasent.

So back onto the road and up into the hills, Then everything felt really odd on the bike. The back wheel had a mind of it's own as it followed the contour of the road towards the bushes by the roadside.

Oh no, my first puncture at the rear, Bugger. I managed to stop OK, only I was on quite a steep incline. I got off and put the bike on it's centre stand, Thank goodness it had one. I cant understand why the tyre went down as both tyres had a green product called Tyre Slime that was supposed to seal any hole in the tyre, anyway it did'nt seem to work, but at least I had a spare tube to fit. The only problem was breaking the tyre beed from the rim. I tried for what seemed ages to remove the tyre with my leavers. It was such a tight fit. I then beat the tyre with my hammer to soffen the edge of the beed before eventually pushing the beed into the centre of the rim and removing the tube.

I found that a nail about two inches (50mm) long had punctured right through the tyre and tube, and the green tyre Slime was everywhere.

The time was about 5.00pm and there was nothing on the roads or any people or houses to be seen, apart from an old fella on his horse who was comming towards me. By now I was in a bit of a state. The sweat was pouring off me, I was pointing up quite a steep hill and the wheel was covered in this green slime. I had used up all my rags to clean it but it was still a huge mess.

Then this old fella leans down from his horse and make out that I should leave now. He could speak no English but I knew what vamoose ment.

Yes, I would if I could but I had a bit of work to do first. The guy then slowley rode away, leaving me totally alone and a bit panic struck to get the hell out of the place.

I had to use my only towel to clean up the rest of the Slime around the rim before fitting the new tube or the tyre would have sliped on the rim.

The next problem was to pump up the tyre and fit the wheel back in the bike. I only had a small pump for carrying space reasons, and no matter how much I pumped I could only get 20 PSI into the tyre, and I needed 40.

Things could.nt get much worse. I had the wheel back in the bike and now it was almost 6pm and begining to lose the daylight. So now I had the rebels to worry about. Cant explain how alone I felt, I was proper hostage material and bloody stuck. I tried and tried to get more air into the tyre, but it was not going to happen.

Bugger, I'll just have to ride it anyway as it is. I started the engine and rode very carefully away up this steep slope. If this doesent damage the tyre nothing will. Now I was in real panic mode, I sat as far forward as I could to take the weight off the back of the bike and give the tyre a chance. I was riding as fast as I dare to find somewhere to stay or pitch a tent with the sun now going down. Popayan was about 140 kilometers away, and I had no chance of making it before dark. I was also low on petrol which ment only fate can help me now. I travelled about 25 kilometres with the bike squirming all over the road, and then to my surprise a gas station came into view. I coul'nt believe my luck, this meant I could fix the tyre properly and fill up. as I was doing so a lady came over to say that I must get off the road, then as I looked towards her I noticed a sign above her head saying Hotel.

From being at the lowest point possible to the highest point on the feelings chart, I was pretty overwhelmed. The lady had a room for me as she told me to hide my bike out of sight of the road as the F.A.R.C rebels often use this road at night.

Cant explain how you feel after such a day, only that I was dirty hungry and very tired, but on top of the world.

There had been a lot of movement during the night, but I had slept through most of it even though I was a little nervous. I got up and went to the eating area and had a sort of chicken and rice type breakfast and a large watermellon which was nice and fresh.

The same lady who gave me the room came over and spoke just a little English and told me that there was a little rebel movement during the night but not to worry, as I should be safe now.

I decided that while I was here I would check the bike out before moving on. But what were the plans. After tightening a few bolts and a few luggage problems, I decided that I would go to Bogota and find a flight to Panama.

I had become a little nervous of all this military movement and that I may be vunerable as a single tourist. The bike was packed, the tyres pumped up and the gas tank filled to the brim. I bought a few snacks and drink to have for a rest stop and got on my way, once again towards Popayan.

Another hot day and soon I was just outside Popayan  where I was stopped by another check point, but not before I tried to ignore the first request to stop, but the second when this soldier literally walked into my path. I swerved to miss him before I could stop, but I did stop, and was he angry. Went through all my papers and kept me waiting as long as he could. Then the usual question, Where are you going, so not to complicate things I just said Bogota, then I was let go.

Got through Popayan OK and stopped just outside for a drink.

This was a beautiful part of the world, and I was enjoying the riding. This is what I was looking at from being sat on the bike with some cake and my favorite seven up drink, which seemed to wake me up as well as refresh me, Think it may have a little too much caffeine in it but I did'nt worry to much about this at the time.

So on to the town of Cali, and the first thing I noticed about Cali was a small Airport on the outskirts.

I wondered if I can get a flight to Panama from here, so parked up the bike and made some enquiries.

Sure enough I could get a flight which would save me a trip to Bogota. I'm not much into large cities, as I always seem to get lost in them. I never had a Sat Nav, just a compass and the sun if I did get lost. There are a few flights to Panama city each day, so I said I would find a place to stay in Cali and return in the morning. The people there were very helpful, even having a crate that another biker had used once before.

I must point out that at the time, even though there is land to Panama the road is just a track used by rebels for smuggling through into central America and would have been of danger to me if I had attempted to cross the border there.

I found a small place to stay in Cali and made plans for the morning. I'm sorry to leave South America as I had never seen sights like it before, So little did I know at this time that I was jumping from the frying pan and will soon be in the Fire.

You hear all sorts of bad things about Columbia but these people earning an honest living could not have been more helpful, Thanks once again.

It didn't take long to Panama city airport but it did take long to find my bike as there bond store was across the other side of the airport, I walked ages to find the right Bond  store, and the heat carrying a lot of my things was stifling.

I found the right store in the end and gave my papers to the man I thought would help me, but he seemed not very interested at all, Oh well never mind, I was left to unpack the bike get my Carnet de Passage papers stamped and ride off to find a hotel in the city.

Had no Idea where I was even though I had the name of a couple of hotels to look at. I ended up in the Old town and just went to the first reasonable hotel I could find where I met up with a couple of Americans  who were working at the Canal, So at least I could speak some English with someone which was nice. Think the hotel was called the Cavagonga or something like that, People seemed friendly enough, so thought I'd stay for a few days. I had to look for a spare camera anyway as my Nikon was playing up a little. The Hotel had a lockable carpark which was locked up at midnight, and a security guard who I paid a little money to to look after my bike all for about $39US a night, so all up it was not too bad.

The next morning I went down stairs just to check I still had some transport, and sure enough the security man had been sleeping almost next to it.

I had some breakfast, and as the hotel was almost in the Old Quarter I decided to take my camera and have a look around.

This old part of town was where the politicians of the country used to live, before the new city was built and is used today.

Apparently, these herons were here to guard this old embassy. I enjoyed looking around by myself, but this was all about to change for the worse.

This begging type guy insisted showing me around the Old Quarter. No matter how I tried to put him off I could'nt get rid of him. He gave me a load of sad stories of how he lost his wife and kid's in the 17 minute war with the Americans when a rocket was fired into their apartment, when the then dictator Noriago, tried to kick the Americans out and take control of the Panama Canal.

I gave in as the guy was not going to leave unless I hit him and that would have got me into a load of trouble.

As it happened trouble was going to find me anyway, It was destined to be,

After further walking around the old city I told this guy that I would buy him a drink and something to eat. He said that he knew somewhere to go, but I wanted to be on the main street where there were plenty of Police about. anyway we compromised just off the main street, I bought him a couple of beers and a plate of food, and thanked him for his time.

Well then he said that I owed him money for the tour, which I never asked for. Anyway, I gave him a $US5 dollar note, which is not bad at this time for something I did,nt ask for. Anyway he was shouting in Spanish or something, and people in the bar were looking around, with no other tourists that I could see, It was not looking good for me so as he ranted on I turned and walked quickly out the resturant into the busy street.

I carried on walking around the town taking a few more pictures, Typical tourist, and noticed that it was getting very hot indeed, and could feel the heat on my head. There are lots of street stalls selling all sorts of tacky gifts, but one of the stalls had a few caps to help keep the sun off.

At this time, because of the earlier problem with people offering services to me, I was much more aware of what was around me, and I had noticed that every time I stopped, this young guy also stopped a little further down the road from me. I had the feeling he was in the restaurant where the guide went off his head at me. I looked at a couple of stalls which took my mind off this young guy. I found a hat that I wanted, paid for it and as soon as I had put my wallet back in my pocket another hand pulled it out again. I spun around and chased after this guy and sure enough it was the young guy in the restaurant. He had about 20 metres on me as he ran away from the main street into a back alley. He was not getting away despite the age difference, as I have been a runner for many years, where he was desperate to escape.

He then headed towards a block of flats when all of a sudden, two police motorcycles cut me off from him and stopped me.

I said that I had just been robbed, They said that they knew as they had seen it, but whatever happens I was not to go any further for my own safety, Boy was I mad.

I had to wait for a police car to pick me up so I could make a report for my insurance claim and look at some pictures of criminals to see if I recognised him.

Well he got both my NZ bank cards, about $us45 cash but he did'nt get my new hat. I spent the rest of the day at the police station before getting a lift back to my hotel. By the way the detective helping me said that not even the police go in the area where they had stopped me on their own without a weapon, So I guess it could have got much worse if I had followed my robber.

This is a time when I was pretty low, but had to sort myself out or I was'nt going anywhere. I had left a little cash back at the hotel in a body belt as well as my last bank card, a British Nat/West credit card that I had pre-loaded with plenty of funds to keep me going. I had got in touch with my bank in New Zealand and explained what had happened.

They put a stop on both their credit and debit cards so they could not be used.

I had to kiss goodbye to getting another camera at Colon 35 miles across the width of Panama where duty free goods can be bought.

I had tried to use this Nat/West credit card on this trip a couple of times as it was just for any emergency or back up but I needed it to work now.

I had seen a little of the old Panama city, but when you've been robbed  all you want to do is to get out of it. It's a pity really as these people have a lot less than us in the West and at one stage I felt quite guilty for being able to do such a journey when other people struggle just to survive.

The next morning I decided I would use my only credit card to pay for my stay, I only had enough cash to pay for one night and now I had to pay for three.

So using the swipe card machine and the few seconds of waiting noticed a message saying (Insufficient Funds). cant be as it was pre-loaded with a couple of thousand pounds, so I tried again and the same message appeared.

Bloody hell, what to do now? The manageress knew I had been robbed but it was not her problem, She wanted paying and got some heavy guy to keep an eye on me while she called the police. They locked up my bike and through my things into a store cupboard. The Police came, asked a few questions, could see I could not pay and took me to the same Police station as the one where I was helping them with their inquiries.

What a mess, I was questioned again and they asked what was I going to do. I did'nt know if I was insured for this but asked if I could use their phone to phone my bank in the UK, which ment a wait of a few hours until the branch where I had my account opened the next morning, not that I was going anywhere apart from a holding cell, where I could think of what I was going to say to the bank without swearing too much.

The mad thing about all this was that both my NZ and UK banks had six months warning of when I was to visit the America's and roughly what country I would be in at a certain time.

So, when the time came for the call i had calmed down just a little, I got through all the calming music and the "Your call is important to us" crap and I'd have to wait until I could actually talk to a human being. When I did and explained who I was and where I was, I was put onto the manager.

Oh, Mr Griffiths, he said, we have written to you at your New Zealand address a few times about your account, as somebody was trying to use it in South America. Yes, I said it was me and now I've been robbed with only my Nat/West card left and you have totally let me down, (Not my actual words) as they are not very printable.

A typical case of the left hand not knowing what the right is doing, Total plonkers. Anyway I gave them all the security words and numbers they required and the account was opened for my use. The Police then took me back to my hotel where I tried to pay my bill and much to my relief it worked. Now it was too late to get on the road, so I asked for another room and they seemed all happy with me again, but what a day.

Helping the Police one minute and locked up the next but it was not the complete end to my British banking problems.

The next day I was up early as I had decided to ride to Colon and try my luck with another camera, which I did and the card worked fine. Then back to Panama city where I picked up the Pan Americano Highway over the Panama canal and back on my way north towards Costa Rica.

Had no trouble crossing the border even though the sun was hot and the roads became very narrow. I had to be careful with my money as cash is still king in these parts, and the next place I could find a Wells Fargo office was Copan in northern Honduras. Only big hotels and international fuel stations took cards. I did find a motel by the end of the day owned by a Dutch guy who had married a local lady and was happily settled close to the sea. So I stayed here for a couple of days rest and to check over the bike.

Had a nice rest at the hotel Bella Vista, This must have been about the sixth Bella Vista hotel that I had used during my trip.

Then back on the road to San Jose and on into the hills which was a surprise to me as Central America is only a small stretch of narrow land that you would think fairly flat, So this was an added bonus simply because of the views, where I understand that lots of money is paid to go bird watching where the beautiful brightly coloured Toucan and a veriety of parots can be found.

I crossed the border into Nicaragua after my San Jose night in a small hotel for about $12us, nothing special but it did the job.

It was about midday at the border and the useual office to office caper to get all your papers stamped. Once in Nicaragua there did'nt seem much to look at apart from Volcano's. It seemed a much poorer country than Costa Rica, but the children looked very smart in their uniforms waiting for the bus to take them to school.

In two days I was through Nicaragua after staying one night at the PanAmerican hotel just outside Managua on the Pan Americano highway.

I must admit to getting pretty lost after Managua. There was a sign showing me a Detour for the next 10 kilometres. I went from lost to completely lost, with only my compass giving me a rough idea that I was heading in the right direction. This road went on and on, which made me think that maybe there was a nought missing on that detour sign, and this is what the road was like.

These were nice views to start with but after the detour things changed to dust and dirt with very little sign of life. This road passed by no houses or villages, just empty.

I nad no food with me I was very short of cash, as card's don't mean much in these parts and I had to decide whether to keep going of turn around to get some fuel. I kept going.