I decided to head to Monteverde in the
mountains. I heard it was picturesque and I love to get into the
mountains. I packed and did my farewells
then rode back to Paquera and took the
ferry to Punta Arenas on the mainland. It was a large ferry that took 45
minutes with some nice sunshine to warm me.
As we berthed in Punta Arenas I walked to the bike
and started up. I noticed that my brake warning light was flashing rapidly, so
I turned off the bike and started again. I tried the brakes and they felt
spongy. I tried on and off a few times but it didn’t make any difference.
I rode across the
ramp onto the land and realised I had virtually no brakes. The power assist
wasn’t working. I pulled over and spent an hour on the side of the road
checking everything I could on the bike but I couldn’t get the brakes operating
properly. I decided to ride on to Monteverde, and although the brakes were not
working well, they did actually stop me, but slowly. I became
accustomed to them after a while but had to make sure I wasn’t in any emergency
situation that required fast braking because they simply wouldn’t stop me fast
enough.
It was Friday afternoon and I figured I wouldn’t find a mechanic until Monday and I had time
to take it slowly to Monteverde, so I headed for the mountains. It was a lovely
ride and not much traffic on the highway before I turned onto a smaller road
that wound into the mountains. It was sunny and I had about 80kms to go. I felt
ok and although confused about what happened to the brakes I was getting used
to it and riding with more caution.
With about 20kms
to go I came to a road junction and a road block. It was just after 4pm and the
guard told me that the road would open at 5pm. I knew it was getting dark at six so I was hoping I would get there in time. Good for his word, the
barricade came down at five and I rode ahead of the traffic with three other
motorcycles. The road wound up and up along the dirt for several kilometres
until we came to some trucks and heavy machinery packing up for the day. We had
to wait for one of the machines to load onto the truck and the light was
starting to fade quickly. Another fifteen minutes and we were on the way in a
decreasing quality and width of dirt road, now with oncoming traffic and dust.
As it became
darker some fog started moving in. I had no idea how far I had to go at this
stage, maybe ten kilometres. The fog made it dark and I could only see the
distance of my headlight. So here I was riding at night in the fog, on a dirt
road heading higher into the mountains, no significant brakes on my bike and
wondering why I chose this place to stay the weekend. I finally saw some town
lights in the distance at the bottom of a steep descent and I followed my ever
reliable iPhone App to the hostel I hadn’t booked, but hoped had a vacancy. It
did.
I stayed the
night and in the morning walked around the small town, checking out the options
for activities. It was full of jungle swings and zip-lines, but all I could
really think about was the problem with the brakes, so I decided to
just do a nocturnal walk in the national park. During the afternoon some heavy
grey clouds moved in and the rain started and didn’t abate all night. I had
planned on entering San Jose on Monday morning but had also been throwing
around the idea of leaving Sunday to miss the horrid peak-hour traffic, ever
present in Central American cities. Either way I had to leave early because I discovered
the road I had taken was closed from 7am to 5pm everyday for roadworks. The
other roads were a lot further to travel through the mountains, not a good
prospect with my brakes.
I decided to leave on
Sunday, ultimately a good decision, and rode off in the dark towards the
roadworks again. The rain had taken its toll and I found myself in the
roadworks area slipping and sliding in the mud. It had been churned up by cars
and had some very wet boggy areas. I haven’t ridden much in mud and going
downhill, it’s probably good my brakes were not working well because there was
a temptation to use them more than I should. I knew I had to keep the power to
the back wheel and focus well ahead. I wound my way slowly downhill as the
darkness lifted and after a few heart in the mouth moments I eventually came to
the turnoff where I had been stopped two days ago. It was before 7am and I was
now below the fog and on a nice winding country road with clear skies, heading
down to San Jose. I finally relaxed and enjoyed my riding for a while, knowing
that I didn’t need my brakes much as there was not much traffic around and not
too many sharp bends.
After a couple of
hours riding including a stop for breakfast, I entered into the outskirts of
San Jose. The traffic was light, as expected, and finally I realised that this
was the best strategy entering into a new city. Do it on a Sunday or public
holiday. I wound towards a hostel I had been recommended in the city and found
myself in the middle of a breast cancer awareness event after trying six or
seven times to access the road that the hostel was on.
The parade was running
straight past the hostel so a friendly local cop gave me permission to ride
down the street and access the hostel after telling me all about his 1800cc
Harley.
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