The Route

First some movies. First one: I arrive in Ushuaia, after three years of traveling.



Second one: traveling with Anne through the Bolivian Andes during X-mas



Third one: searching for the whereabouts of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
in Bolivia. Like this one.




Alaska
I started off in Anchorage (Alaska) on May second 05. People kept telling me about the Dalton Highway, a notorious 700 k’s dirt road that brings you all the way to to Deadhorse an alias for Prudhoe Bay. You drive the same way back, fun. It’s grizzly country up there you know, absolutely terrifying. The week before I roared off, I dealt with my small talk friends in my favorite Amsterdam hangout De Koe. In Alaska grizzlies surrounded me. I knew all about the city jungle, but the real one – no sir. To protect me from the claws I had the Guzzi, a hammer and a screwdriver. Not enough decided Yoshua, the cook of the Yukon-restaurant, the first stop on the Dalton Highway, and supplied me with a two shots Derringer .45 and a machete. His instructions: ‘when you aim at the grizzly’s feet you probably hit his head. And if you miss use the second round for yourself.’ Now that gave me something to think about. But what if I miss the second round? At Coldfoot (half way the Dalton Highway) Mickey Miskovitch invited me at his shack where I stayed ten days before the final run to Prudhoe Bay. In Alaska I panned for gold, aimed straight and became good friends with Clutch, Mickey, Clutch, Brain (´We´re all cousins, dude´) Lawrence, Jason and Jacqui Storm. Alaska still is the biggest motorcycle adventure I’ve ever had. The bike gave me after 1400 k’s of dirt road and washboards no problem at all. And no grizzly chewed on my bones.

Canada
I sa big fucking country. What I saw mostly was lakes and trees, trees and lakes and some hostile black bears trying to outrun the Guzzi. I cruised through the Yukon and British Colombia. I was honored being the guest of the Gitanyow community for a weekend and met Chief Robert Good of the Frog clan who was dressed for the occasion. At Destruction Bay I became friends with Scully. He was one of the Canadians who liberated our country from the Germans during WO II. Was proud to meet Scully. Never talked to a Canadian liberator before. I’ve spent only two weeks in Canada, because I was running out of visa time. Most of the time I was riding my bike, trying not to fall asleep while passing lake number 2017.

United States
Lots of travelers ask me how I liked the States. Two thumbs up. I had a brilliant time in the lower 48. People were very hospitable, more than I ever expected. From Seattle to San Diego people invited me to their houses. And sometimes they escorted me. Especially at the coast (the blue zone of the country, where the most democrats live) people were embarrassed about the US-politics and who isn’t? For 2500 k’s I drove along the coast, the highway 1. Made good friends in the States. I still talk to my friends. Will never forget Greg Field. (Greg gave me this Corbin saddle that I still use and that saved my ass), Patrick and Regina Hayes, Ingrid Vanderveldt & Robbie Booth and Todd Eagan. The United States rules the waves. I mean…

Mexico
The Mexican gods didn’t like me at the start, although I’ve been in the republic 15 times and I considered them as close friends. Nope, those Maya and Aztec spirits made me suffer in the Baja California desert where in August temperatures rise up till 50 degrees Celsius. Why 15 times? I had a Mexican señorita (Nancy) for 4 years in the late eighties, early nineties. She lived in Mexico-City. The strangest thing was that when I arrived at La Paz after two weeks driving in this oven to take the boat to the mainland I rested in front of a restaurant when I heard a familiar voice calling my name. It was Nancy. After 14 years I met her again in Mexico. You need to know that she lives in Germany. She was on vacations with husband Karsten and two kids. So why did Nancy showed up out off the sudden? You tell me! Was she my married little angel after this cooking ride through the Baja desert? Anyway, even the Guzzi had to weep. poor thing. After Baja I spent three weeks in the little village Pino Suarez and two weeks with Lizbeth’s family, a Mexican senorita who invited me to diner… Rest of the time I spent on the beach at Puerto Escondido my favorite Mexican hangout watching the days go by while laying in the hammock. In the city Oaxaca I’ve met Melanie from Toronto. We spent the best X-mas and New Year ever on the beach of Zipolite. We met again in Palenque for five days. I left Mexico knowing that the Maya and Aztec gods made it up with me.

Guatemala
Here is where I met my friend Tal from Israel. She became my best friend on the continent. We’ve spent three weeks at lago Attitlan. The last two weeks in Guatemala Canadian Mary Simpson joined us. Like the ride through highlands of Guatemala but didn’t like society. Guatemala is Centro America’s Wild West. The maras (gangs) like M-17 and Salvatrucha make the country very unsafe. The newspapers are filled with terror. My favorite Guzzi-picture I took in Guatemala. Love those 20 bucks off road tires.

Honduras
Same deal, maras and danger. But the people itself are very friendly even if you don´t expect it. Spent three weeks in the republic and met Tal again. Had a nice ride and ended up on Tiger Island near the border of Nicaragua.

Nicaragua
In Nicaragua people have huevos, balls. The Sandinistas fought hard in the eighties for their liberty and stood firm against the by Reagan supported Contra’s. When I drove into the first thing a saw was a street wide banner that said ‘The Harley Davidson community of Malaga welcomes you’ and I almost fell off the Guzzi. Everything is for sale, probably. Nicaragua is the poorest country in Latino America that I’ve seen. Bad road conditions, poor economy, but smiling people. Spent two months on the Island Ometepe in the village Balguë where people live from the lake and the fields. Like the Nica’s a lot. People are very friendly. Became good friends with Deyner Morales a young and brave Nica, He fell in love with a German girl and was broken hearted when she left. In Balguë people earn two dollars a day so no change to save money for an air ticket. So we decided to take our changes in Costa Rica where you can make more money. Deyner never had left his country before – his passport was brand new – and he was the first and only person who traveled with me on the fully packed Guzzi. We felt only once. On the back of the bike I could hear him screaming ‘libertad’ and ‘adventura’. Three months later I got an email from Deyner that he actually made it to Germany.

Costa Rica – Panama
Costa Rica was too expensive for me at that time and spent only three days in this popular destination. Panama was an easy trip. There’s only one road from the border to Panama City and was in excellent condition. Didn’t count one single hole. In the capital I had to find a boat to Colombia and the search could be time consuming. Not for me. In a hostel I talked five minutes to a German guy (Lulu) who happened to be the captain of the Stahlratte, a beautiful schooner that sailed the next day to Colombia. The trip took us five days. We went off board for two days at the archipelago of San Blas where I’ve met the Kuna Indians. The German crew, all from Berlin, where old hippies. So we happily smoked our joints and drank our beers while overlooking this fantastic view. The time on the Stahlratte was truly a highlight.

Colombia
Every traveler is a little anxious when he sets foot for the first time on Colombian soil. And so was I. The war with the FARC (Fuerzas Armadas Revolutionaria Colombiana) and all the drug problems makes this country for the average traveler a bit too adventurous. Spent a month in Cartagena, which is a wild place. Later on I had some problems with a police chief called Dalmiro Betancourt who stole my money in a village called San Juan. The next day I complained about this asshole at the local government of San Juan. I left numerous declarations with prosecutors. The last one was at El Carmen de Bolivar and that’s how I ended up in this village. El Carmen de Bolivar is a zona roja, which means the highest alert, a no go area. Later I realized that El Carmen was one of the most dangerous places in Colombia, but I didn’t see and hear any evil. I just cruised the Guzzi through the village with my girlfriend Yoheisha at the back. The place was packed with militaries, tanks and whatever. The village was surrounded by FARC. I’ve spent two months in El Carmen de Bolivar. People didn’t want me to leave and said ‘don’t worry Paul, the village will protect you’ and they did. In El Carmen I realized that the Colombians are the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life. For two months my ‘mother’ Rocio and her daughter Yoheisha fed me two times a day. Four years ago El Carmen was hell on earth. FARC and paramilitaries terrorized the village and killed people everyday. With the expansion of the police force to sixty heavily armed officers and at least 200 soldiers the place is more or less safe, but while I was there 10 soldiers where ambushed by the FARC and killed. I left El Carmen with a bleeding heart and with the knowledge that police chief Dalmiro lost his job, no lie.
In total I’ve spent half a year in Colombia. Eventually immigration kicked me out. Spent two months in Medellin, which is an awesome city. Made so many friends in Colombia that I have to go back one day. If you travel on a motorcycle through Colombia don’t be impressed by all the heavily armed militaries that guard the roads. Without their present it would be truly dangerous. I made a lot of fun with the boys. Colombia sobre todo!


To be continued (if you're interested) with Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia and Argentina...