I awoke to the sound of wailing engines and exhaust fumes. In the courtyard below the motel, men were cleaning air filters, changing oil and preparing for the day's journey ahead. Men laughed and joked in a language…I couldn't understand. Still, I felt an immense sense of camaraderie with these men. We had come from the United States, Bolivia, Chile, Peru and Aruba to share a great adventure. It felt good.
After breakfast, Steve, Art and I mounted our Prairies and set out upon a dirt road that was flat, furiously fast and extremely dusty. The dust mask I was wearing made breathing tolerable and the roll-offs on my goggles helped somewhat, yet the three of us continually jostled position to find open air where we could both see and breath. We only traveled a few short miles from the motel when an oncoming truck forced Art to suddenly veer in front of me. Visibility instantly plummeted into negative numbers. All I could do was steer for the back of Art's helmet and hang on. Amidst the thick cloud something unseen caught me by surprise and tossed my Prairie into the air. I clung tightly to the handlebars thankful that the predictable Prairie didn't do anything ugly. I landed clean but the severe impact of whatever I hit caused the engine to abruptly die. I watched in silent dismay as my buddies rounded the corner and disappeared. Almost before I could dismount a support truck arrived carrying the two Bolivian mechanics. Through a series of hand gestures I managed to communicate that I hit something. I wasn't certain, but I suspected it was a large rock. The mechanics dug into the bowels of the machine and discovered a wire on the aftermarket winch had come loose grounding the ignition. I had also tweaked an A-Arm but the damage wasn't enough to prevent me from riding. Ten minutes later I left the mechanics, shaking their heads, in a cloud of dust as I raced to catch Art and Steve.
I caught up with Art and Steve and I began to think of us as the Three Amigos. We developed a riding technique where we rode in a Flying-V formation. One of us would lead in the center with two behind at each outside edge. This technique afforded the best vision and allowed the rear riders to avoid the worst of the dust. The rental ATVs available for the journey were a choice of Honda Foreman 400, Kawasaki Prairie 400 or a Polaris Sportsman 400 the remainder of the machines were owned by their riders and ranged the gamut. My Prairie had about 7 mile-an-hour speed advantage over the Honda Foreman. In the thick dust I began to really appreciate the Prairie. Given a choice of eating someone's dust for 100 miles, or blowing past them on the straights, I was glad to be able to wick the throttle and leave them eating dust while I grabbed clear air. This fine, silty dust was some of the worst I've ever encountered and it infiltrated my rack bags and all of my gear.
;)
;)
;)
;)