Muchas Gracias: South America with Adventure Rider x Compass Expeditions Back to News List
Words by Graeme Sedgwick, Pictures by Graeme Sedgwick and Lee Boiler, originally published in Adventure Rider Issue #64, Aug 28, 2024
After more than twenty days and almost 5000 kilometres riding with a bunch of global characters who shared an irrepressible singlemindedness for a motorcycle adventure, I felt forever changed. From our 360 degree view high above Santiago in the glorious Sky Costanera, we raised a glass and barked Muchas Gracias to an extraordinary journey that had stretched and rewarded. Thanks to Compass Expedition’s Juan Farias and Agustin Yaconis who gave us a life of unforgettable storytelling.
Rollback three plus weeks. After a familiarization ride that immersed us into the Chilian coastal locality of Iquique’s traffic mayhem, we certainly found that our lead rider Agustin – who quickly became known as ‘Gus’ to his newly inherited comrades from Canada, Germany, United Kingdom, United States and Australia – could ride!
Our adventure shot south down an expansive coastal highway of sweeping bends for 250kms flanked by the massive uprisings of the Cordillera de la Cosa mountains and the wilds of the South Pacific Ocean under a cloudless blue sky to Tocopilia.
As we rode, we could sense how special this adventure ride would be.
Away from Tacopilia eastward, our first rising up the Cordillera progressively revealed the hauntingly beautiful Atacama Desert’s landscape where we rose further toward the Cordillera Domeyko foothills that form a part of that unbroken rampart called the Andes. That stretches almost 9000 kilometres from the continent’s southern tip to its northern most on the Caribbean.
It was a fantastic wheel chasing affair across moon like expanses where we’d been told it hadn’t rained for over 400 years and then we were plunging between stark rock formations enroute to the wonderful adobe village of San Pedro de Atacama. Archaeologically recognized as the capital of Chile, our accommodation brought food and libations and much camaraderie and laughter among the group.
An intriguing outpost, San Pedro de Atacama sits immediately west of the inactive volcano Licancabur which rises close to the border of Chile and Bolivia. It’s a sort of hippy town spotted with markets and a myriad of accommodation, together with many great places to eat. In sum, an evening atmosphere that’s alive, unthreatening, instantly peaceful and ideal if one feels the want to sip Pisco Sours.
The Pisco Sours cocktail is comprised of a type of brandy, lemon juice, sugar syrup and egg white that’s prepared by being vigorously shaken in a cocktail shaker with ice cubes. The drink is then poured into an old- fashioned glass garnished with Angostura bitters and served straight up without ice. A refreshment Chile and Peru claim ownership of as the originators, with Bolivia having its own variant.
Away from San Pedro, our passage scooted well-paved roads northward through the Atacama towards the former mining town of Ollague at 3990 metres above sea level. This passage boasts stunning plains surrounded by snowcapped peaks and volcanoes that delivered massive sensory overload together with no shortage of reasons to pause for picture taking opportunities. As we moved between dramatic peaks incorporating the composite volcano of San Pedro – historically one of the world’s highest active volcanoes at 6000 plus metres – intermixed with del Azufre at 5849 metres and Palonana at 6023 metres enroute. Today Ollague is not much more than a remote border crossing, freight rail-line interchange, sitting before its own name sake’s peak rising above 5800 metres.
On the other hand, Ollague, to the unsuspecting, immediately assumes the perfect streetscape location for a Harry Alonzo Longabaugh shoot-out (think Sundance Kid outlaw and a member at Butch Cassidy’s Wild Bunch), Where we overnighted was a rustic picturesque homestay that held an eerie feel of those could-a-been wild-west days.
Little did any of us expect dawn’s arrival would present a Hold-Up that would belittle anything Butch Cassidy’s wild bunch could match. Yes! A Border-Hold-Up complete with officials questioning the authenticity of our documentation as well as our Spanish speaking leaders Juan and Gus credentials. Both these led to Border Officials refusing the group’s passage from Chile into Bolivia.
To suggest the situation in the moment was an underwhelming bureaucratic nightmare is an understatement. The patient diligence Juan and Gus applied to try to avert the predicament was breathtaking.
The aftermath brought forward plenty of opinions as we were forced to re-ride the proceeding passage in reverse providing a second and different viewing of volcanoes and snow-capped peaks enroute back to San Pedro de Atacama. However, this was a blessing for some who’d found their first encounter with the effects of rising altitude a little more breath snatching and debilitating than they had anticipated.
Back in Australia, the Compass Expeditions brains trust were madly conferencing with their on the ground crew Juan, Gus and another long serving colleague Tomas who upon learning of the inconvenience of being turned back at the border had jumped on one of his bikes to knock over a few hundred kilometres to be in San Pedro to assist sorting a re-routed journey. A ride as it turned out that would entail a lengthy day in the saddle and have us rising further over the Chilian landscapes bisecting the Andes through Argentina which wasn’t originally part of our itinerary into Bolivia.
In all hardly a challenge for a bunch of irrepressible riders buoyed by the new journey briefed by the all-nighter’s who had created the remap: a ride that could only be described as a riders best deal with the inclusion of Argentina. Spirits and enthusiasm reinvigorated and keen to conquer what lay ahead over almost 700 kilometres, departure was swift toward a new border crossing via the Paso de Jama Mountain pass through the Andes into Argentina at an elevation of4200 metres (the highest and northern-most border crossing between Chile and Bolivia).
A picnic fit for kings followed, courtesy of everyone pitching in to prepare an assortment of cold meats, cheeses, crusty bread, tomatoes and greens complemented by fresh fruit and cold drinks. This was thanks to the support van driver and tour leader Juan. One could be forgiven for asking – Does life get any better? Here we sat perched on stools eating and enjoying new sights and sounds.
Picnic paraphernalia re-packed, a spectacular salt flat crossing spilt by our passage’s ribbon of pavement came and went before arrival at a policed blockade which signalled the beginning of an off-road detour to circumnavigate a massive landslide. A challenge this bunch took to like ducks to water. I mean what’s a little sand, rocks, shale and a splash in the overall scheme of what’s to be accomplished. And who cared about the series of never ending dramatic mostly safety barrier-less paved-roadway hairpin bends?
Nonetheless whilst experience counts for more than this story allows, many issues happened. For example, accomplished rider Australian self-made business creator Territorian Andrew Boller suffered misfortune when he attempted to change his sandy direction catapulting himself and equally adventurous pillion and dear wife Lee skyward.
And then, ‘The Avoidance’ by Australian Lance Mottram, who Lost-it and Regained-it whilst bouncing, hands clenched hard around grips in anticipation of the worst. Lance managed this together with Canadan Robert Beecroft who’s ridden more enduro and trials bikes than he’s created antibodies and peptides for the NASDAQ listed enterprise Immuno Precise Antibodies he founded.
A strategy Elliot Graham, who became known as the Minnesota ‘Wow-Man’ valiantly embraced but still came to kissing the fesh-fesh before remounting for another love-in.
In the face of such entertainment the inevitable fall of light to horizon became the push’s greatest motivator running on empty along the Quebrade de Humahuaca mountain valley into a refuel beneath the soft pastel colouratians of the blues, purples, yellows and orange dusk’s arrival brought.
Refuel and rehydration dances completed together with the stuffing of energy bars into mouths, lead rider Gus quickly briefed the ensuing night-fall’s wheel chase to day’s end point La Quiaca, a further 200 kilometres northward. Although for some the night-ride loomed as daunting, at least the running was essentially straight and significantly, the group understood one another’s pace and quickly morphed into a sort of conga-slip-stream-line invisibly attached to Gus’s riding rhythm.
Even so the ensuing ride’s conclusion couldn’t come soon enough unfortunately and particularly for Andrew and pillion wife Lee who hit a cavernous rut that immediately deflated and bent their 1250 beamer’s front wheel. Meaning they and their bike arrived into La Quiaca with Juan in the support van. Not perfect given everyone at some point during the night’s ride had unavoidably collided with ruts. That boasted an atrium stairway that cork screwed arrivals to their rooms upon the eve of Palm Sunday.
Breakfast was a simple relaxed affair complemented by a peaceful gathering of beautifully attired families coming together outside Hotel Crystal and the adjacent civic square gardens to celebrate Palm Sunday. A pace-less interlude that witnessed locals focus upon celebrating their gratitude for life, family, friends and beliefs.
After observing the festivities, we refuelled and lined up to exit Argentina into Bolivia. We enjoyed a peaceful, undulating meander over some 270 odd kilometres punctuated by shallow canyons, roaming lama, sheep, wandering dogs and rocky outcrops toward Uyuni and an appointment with the Salar de Uyuni.
A vast expanse of white glistening salt stretching 10,582 kilometres across the Andes Altiplano covering 10,100,954 square kilometres (or 3900 sq miles). The natural wonder is the world’s largest salt flat and natural mirror when covered with water where layers of salt have become sandwiched between sedimentary deposits that reach below to depths of 10 metres and more.
The flat represents a salt farm of no less than 11 billion tons from which salt is extracted daily to use locally and ship internationally. This makes the Salar de Llyuni a significant part of Bolivia’s Lithium wealth essential to make batteries to power vehicles, smart phones, computers and more. Uyuni’s salt flats are also a significant chapter within Dakar’s race history. When a couple of epic timed stages around the Uyuni Salt Flats detrimentally effected bike and vehicle electrics and the rarefied atmosphere brought forward levels of competitor exhaustion, Dakar organizers have not since revisited.
On the other-hand Uyuni is a deceptively curious place due to the large number of unfinished buildings. A situation we later learnt whilst enjoying what’s got to be some at the best wood fired pizzas imaginable at the Minute-Man restaurant within Hotel Tonito. Apparently only completed buildings draw tax.
North from Uyuni our pace amped up along the western flanking of the Cordilleras de Azanaques mountains. We passed through numerous small villages to a city more than 3800 metres above sea level Bolivia’s capital – La Paz. This city owns the highest elevation of any in the world thanks to its location in the Andes Altiplano plateau. Siting within a sort of crater littered with a mesmerising juxtaposition of buildings pressed hard together, the city boasts the world’s Iongest and highest public cable car transport system, the extension of which has become on-going to assist its bursting population of more than 1.9 million.
Named Nuestra Senora de La Paz in 1548 meaning Our Lady of Peace before renamed La Paz 1825, the place boasts a dramatic setting below the towering snow-capped Mt. Illimani. But it will be the baptism into La Paz’s insane outskirts via its spider web of streets, alleyways and movement to its epicentre that will forever have me romancing the notion ONCE! Our Lady of Peace!
The traffic can be explained as ‘its-everyman-for-himself’. Try, if you will, to imagine yourself leading your newest mates blindfolded through a swarming writhing minefield overflowing with every conceivable type of vehicle, wobbly contraption and on foot entrepreneurs. All prepared to chance ‘To Go’ countdown traffic lights! All eager to seize any gap to advance themselves within an atmosphere’s potency where preciseness is nothing more than wafer thin. And your mind’s eye will have a glimpse into how thrilling the riding was and why our lead rider ‘Gus’ will be forever a character deserving of legendary status having led all of us through no less than three and half hours of anticipatory reflexology to ride safely into and out of La Paz.
Traffic, sight-seeing and markets aside here we had the opportunity to ride down what is regarded as the world’s most dangerous road. From its start point La Cumbre, 4643 metres above sea level its approach was powerful. Locally known as the North Yungas Road and once the only passage connecting the administrative capital La Paz with the Amazon Basin, it’s passage once saw more than 200 trucks daily navigate its way with goods, livestock and others carrying anywhere between 30 to 100 passengers until an alternative route was created and the road then closed to buses and trucks in 2007.
Plunging 3443 metres from La Cumbre via Coroico to Yolosa, a mere 1200 metres above sea level, Death Road is barely 3 metres wide, just enough for a car let alone much else. Its narrow cliff faced way comprised of 34 kms of very ordinary asphalt with its upper most section off 33 Kms presenting as an exposed surface of stones, rammed earth, mud, harsh bends and abrupt rutted downs surfaced with large protruding smooth hazardous stones some wetter than others. Walled one side by a skyward vertical rock face opposite equally vertical 600 metre plus drops into the abyss without catch-rails that descends under waterfalls. After beginning our descent in a fog mist caused by warm air from the Amazon meeting the Yungas colder air mass, it is an awesome ride that could have easily been a gentleman’s stroll if compared to the real death road that is experienced navigating the pressure cooker that is La Paz’s traffic press.
La Paz behind our ride took a spectacular switch back course toward, above and around the shores of Lake Titicaca backdropped by great views of more snow-capped Andes in the distance. We boarded a planked ferry ride across an inlet of Lake Titicaca that extends in a northwest-to-southeast direction for a distance of 190 kilometres covering some 8,300 square kilometres. Titicaca is watery expanse of mind-blowing peaceful proportions and was a fitting location to enjoy a great luncheon interlude. Later there was a lengthy border stop that pushed the day’s remainder of riding head long into a setting sun along an ordinary paved road frequently spotted with roadworks and a range of obscure detours as night enveloped our passage to Puno.
Puno is an intriguing Peruvian city set on the shores of Lake Titicaca and ringed by peaks. It is a curious place to enjoy food and drink and holds a surprising assortment of architectural styles. You can remain engaged in history if the idea of a boat trip to the floating reed islands of Uros doesn’t excite.
Rejuvenated from our Puno stop over, the adventure continued northwest through the town of Juliaca high into the Andes crossing the 4,319 metre pass at La Raya, before reaching the beautiful city and Incan capital the world knows as Cusco, or what the Incans call the navel of the universe. This is a city built on still visible ruins of Incan fortresses. Cusco is a fantastic mix of Incan and Spanish cultures and thankfully our accommodation had us smack bang in the middle of the action. Close to the city’s main plaza, the impressive Plaza de Armas where choices for a drink or meal become plentiful, if the legendary biker’s bar, that is the Norton’s Rats overlooking the Plaza hasn’t enough attraction.
Leaving Cusco, our passage to where we parked bikes at Ollantaytambo travelled the expanses of the Sacred Valley, dissected by the silt-laden Urubamba dotted with Incan ruins dating back millennia. Ollantaytambo was literally the end of the road forcing us to catch a train to Aquas Calientes, the base for the legendary Machu Picchu.
A switchback bus ride next day took us from Aguas Calientes up to the world heritage site Machu Picchu, a site of astounding history and breathtaking wonderment. We then retraced the Gringo trail to Cusco. Beyond Cusco through stunning mountain and Altiplano scenery our journey headed to the more remote Espinar, or Yauri as it is known.
A chaotic place if that could be possible after La Paz. Our arrival allowed enough time to wander to find somewhere to chill and reflect upon the journey’s escalating raft of memorable encounters before calling it a day.
Awake, reluctantly I didn’t want to pull back the curtain only because the magic was soon to come to an end. I felt so fortunate, why couldn’t this adventure not end? I survived where others had fallen, missed as many lama, sheep, dogs and deep ruts as the best, only to collide with ‘one’ sucker that severely reshaped my front wheel’s diameter.
Standing guard, the ever-present Andes are awesome. Ahead Chivey became the next destination to enable easy access to one of the world’s deepest canyons so named Colca Canyon where the giant Condors live. And again, the riding before was magnificent because it is through these very mountains the mighty Amazon River flows. But we soon found ourselves striking out along an unmade course that immediately got everyone’s engagement. In fact, the further we rode the more things became interesting. Particularly as the sky became laden with dark rain cloud passing between Lama also who’d also sensed the atmosphere’s changing chill.
Further ahead the surface eventually turned into a sort of brownish corduroy black. Ahead someone was already down, another off for a mud-bath. Then a second. All around the landscape appeared gloomy for a fleeting moment seeming more like that of Wales. Up, down across another brow and then ascending and descending through another series of switchbacks and hairpins eventually onto paved roadway to the day’s end and unwind in the village of Chivey’s hot springs.
An early start next day was rewarded with magnificent up-close sightings from lookout ‘Cruz del Condor’ of the amazing Condors gliding the canyon’s thermal drafts. A sighting of wing spans and flight that had to be seen to be appreciated. We then retraced passage to ride further south along the spine of the Andes through endless valleys around countless curves and more hairpins through small Peruvian villages to the next overnight in the southern Peruvian city of Arequipa. This was a place no less surprising architecturally than Cusco. Its city square Cathedral amongst many other buildings was a sight to behold upon dusk’s soft illumination.
Hitting out next day Tacna, formerly a part of Chile, although sitting firmly within Peru’s geography, became day’s end after 330 odd kilometres chasing across the Cordillera Occidental high plains western branch of the Andes. This was a ride that at one point presented a descent of sweeping curves that extended for no less than 20 kilometres down from one plateau to the next. It was truly spectacular.
This was the group’s final overnight in Peru before crossing back into Chile; to arrive 374 kilometres later before the onset of a breathtaking fall to dusk across the South Pacific Ocean where the coastal destination of Iquique and where this whole mischievous motorcycle adventure had commenced.
The days ride from Tacna across the vegetation-less stark and arresting Atacama Desert landscape became an enduring and expansive bookend to an adventure none of us in our wildest imaginations could have anticipated.
A wheel chasing adventure that literally had it all, irrespective of how one might choose to slice and dice its magnificence as much as that moment which had necessitated a re-route that had opened a bigger adventure.
Compass Expedition’s so named Trail of the Incas motorcycle adventure etched many indelible story-telling moments, laughs and memories. My heart-felt thanks to all involved and especially Juan and Gus who ensured our adventure was truly one in a million.
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