This morning I ripped half the fingernail of my right index finger back on itself and then placed a 220kg motorbike (minus the rear wheel) on the middle toe of my right foot. All before 8am. Pretty impressive I’d say.
However, I’ll start with the positive. Firstly, I’m finally off the Altiplano and down to the Chilean coast. So thankfully, no more cold and wet days for a while. Secondly, Maude (from Huanchaco) organised for me to stay with a friend of hers in Iquique. Roberto is an incredibly kind and generous guy so staying with him has been a pleasure. He’s also founded an interesting project to try and displace some of the sensationalist and negative press that is so prevalent here. Have a look at positivepress.tv and prensapositiva.tv.
Now for an explanation of my failings as a motorbike tourer. For the last 1,000 miles or so I’ve been riding on a bald rear tyre. I couldn’t replace it sooner because I hadn’t found anywhere in Bolivia that sold my size of tyre. As Iquique is a free port it was my best bet, outside Santiago, for finding a replacement. After a whole day of searching I finally found a single 120/90 – 17″ rear tyre that I could use. I had hoped to find the tyre in the morning and change it so I would be ready to head south early on Saturday morning, as I was supposed to be arriving at the parents of a friend of mine (800 miles away) on Sunday. No matter. I could just get up early on Saturday, change the tyre and be on my way south soon after breakfast.
I should have guessed that things were not going to go exactly to plan when I went to move the bike on Saturday morning and found the rear was flat. On further inspection (later on) I found three slow punctures that were probably a result of riding on such a thin/bald outer tyre. However, I’m relieved that at least they waited until Iquique to present themselves as repairing them on the mountain pass from Bolivia to Chile would have been miserable.
Now changing motorbike tyres manually can be rather tricky and there seem to be two schools of thought on the subject. 1) You should practice changing tyres yourself as much as possible so if you do get a puncture in the middle of nowhere you can fix it. Or 2) It’s too much hassle. Get a tyre repair shop to change the tyre and just hope you never get a puncture or if you do then you can transport the bike easily to the repair shop. Unfortunately the mechanic that taught me motorbike maintenance had me firmly in camp 1 (although after today I must admit I’m moving towards camp 2).
Roberto’s parents run a hotel and my motorbike was parked in their hotel garage. On Saturday morning I had to clean the chain and rear of the bike before changing the tyre so thought it best to move it from the garage to the street to avoid creating a mess in their garage. After wheeling the bike out I put it on the centre stand in the only available street space near the entrance, behind a self-standing sign for the hotel. So far so good. The rear axle was sticking in the rear swing-arm so I used the handle of a multi-screw driver to try and push the axle out of the hole. Now imagine holding the handle of the screw driver in the palm of your hand and pointing your index finger along its length towards the axle in the hole. Then imagine pushing that screw driver as hard as you can so it will push the axle away from you in the direction your index finger is pointing. Now imagine the axle suddenly giving and sliding out of the hole, to be replaced by the length of the screw driver and your index finger, except that the nail of your index finger catches on the edge of the hole and whilst your finger goes inside your nail refuses to and bends back on itself. It took a couple of seconds of staring at my bleeding nail for me to realise what I’d done before being consumed by pain and then rage at my own stupidity. Still, there was nothing that could be done so I cleaned it as best I could, taped it back down, moved all the loose parts from the bike into the garage and then went to buy some breakfast in order to regain some composure before starting the nasty job of changing the tyre (now made all the more difficult by the inability to use the most important finger of my right hand)!
On returning from buying breakfast I was greeted at the garage entrance by the hotel receptionist and a guest. Turns out the space I’d parked my bike was clear for a reason, as was the location of the self-standing sign. It was the entrance and exit to the hotel garage. The guest needed to get his car out, past a motorbike on it’s centre stand with no rear wheel. Now what I should have done was made him wait whilst I put the wheel back on and moved the bike. However, he seemed in a hurry and I couldn’t face touching the rear axle again so we decided to try and lift the rear of the bike and move it up the kerb and out of the way. Unfortunately, as soon as we lifted the rear the centre stand flipped up and we both immediately realised the bike was far too heavy to lift with one arm and steer with the other. We couldn’t even lift it high enough for me to flip the centre stand back down. So whilst the receptionist went to get Roberto to help we had no other option than to lower the rear to the ground, or more precisely onto the middle toe of my right foot (I was wearing flip-flops). I uttered an expletive, up went the bike, out came the foot and down went the bike. When I looked down to inspect my foot I saw that that bike was actually resting on the chain guard, which was now bent out of shape. Looking back on it, I feel slightly sorry for the poor guest. All he wanted to do was take his car out of the hotel garage and now he had to hold a motorbike upright whilst this mad Englishman opposite him turned the air blue with every expletive he knew (and a couple he made up on the spot). I’d calmed down by the time Roberto arrived and the three of us managed to move the bike out of the way and onto it’s centre stand.
So now I had a bleeding fingernail, a bleeding toe, my chain guard was busted and I still hadn’t started to change the rear tyre. I should have given up then and just waited for the tyre repair shop to open at 11am. But no, I’m a stubborn bastard and I thought I could still get everything changed and fixed and be off before then. The lack of right index finger slowed things up somewhat but after much pushing, pulling, levering and sweating I managed to change the tyre and inner tube and pump it up; only to discover I’d pinch-punctured the new inner tube during the change. I couldn’t use the other tube because it had the three slow punctures from riding on a bald rear tyre. BUGGER! At this point I admitted defeat and waited for the tyre repair shop… Of course, they used a machine to remove the tyre in seconds. They fixed the puncture and had the tyre back on within 20 minutes. In fact the more I think about it, I’m definitely moving to camp 2 with regard to tyre changes. Forget all this “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” cr4p.
I did manage to get away and I’m writing this whilst camping on a beach, somewhere off Route 5, on the way to La Serena. My finger and toe still hurt like hell but I reckon they’ll survive. My pride, I’m not so sure about.
Useful Links
Plan your own motorbike touring adventure by visiting the Greasy Sprocket webiste.
See photos of Ollie’s trip at the Greasy Spocket Photo Gallery.
Become a fan on facebook.
Subscribe to this blog
Become a fan