River City Beemers

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 January 10, 1999

 We are still in Caracas. The boat arrived yesterday with the container full of our bikes. The agent is with customs today, attempting to clear. We should have some word by late today or early tomorrow morning as to how long it will take. But, since the auto club where we need to acquire or carnetīs from is closed till Monday, it appears that we will be here at least till then. If they will not need us around over the weekend I think that we will head for the coast for a couple of days. We are getting very anxious to get underway. Caracas has been a wonderful experience. I like it very much. The people are very attractive, since they are of predominately European blood, but with light suntanned skin. In the city the population appears to be quite young and modern. Everyone is well dressed and groomed. Men still give up their seats on the Metro. A smile is returned with a smile, and everyone seems friendly and helpful, and quite glad to see you here. We are amazed by the activity here. For a country that is supposed to be in recession due to the low oil prices, things seem to be doing quite well. I canīt imagine what it must have been like during the boom. Thatīs about it for now, we hope to stay in touch but donīt know exactly when or where we will have access to the Internet. 

January 15,1999

 Well we are finally on our way. We managed to get the bikes out of customs with the help of my friend, Andrew Perez at the Venezuelan Consulate. He made some calls that finally got some action out of the folks at the customs house. We left Caracas with some mixed emotions, since we had become quite comfortable there. But, we were also excited to be on our way. We got our start on Friday the 15th, making our way out of Caracas to Malacy, Valencia and stopping for the night in Guanare. We traveled about 250 miles that first day. We were at 3,500 ft in Caracas and descended to about 500 ft by the time we got to Guanare where it was not. We were quite beat by the end of the day and opted to stop rather than press onward. The next morning we headed out towards Barinas were we turned westward towards the Andes. We stopped in Barinitas to take a break, but we were excited to get going as we could see the Andes from here. We resumed or journey heading up into the Andes. 

We reached Pico El Aguila, the highest road pass in all of Venezuela at 13,600 ft.. It was quite cool so we popped into a warming hut there, getting some hot chocolate and warming up by the fire. After our break we headed back down towards Merida, were we spent the night. Merida is a charming university town in the Andes. At the hotel we selected we found all the rooms had been reserved by a group from the Nazarene church coming to help the local farmers. As luck would have it they did have one last space available' their [deluxe Suite[. It was a two bedroom, two bath with an adjoining room on the corner overlooking all the action! Each room had a balcony where we watched the men ride their horses in to town for their Saturday night beers. These men never got off their horses, but yelled in to the bartender who served them outside. It was quite a sight and we wondered what their drinking and riding laws might be. We made our way to the centro, main square, looking for a restaurant. It seems they celebrate the holidays here until February 3rd so while we did not find a restaurant, we saw some of the most amazing Christmas decorations! We finally returned to the hotel for dinner and an early evening. Everyone that lived in and around Merida cruised the streets under our rooms setting off fireworks and partying until the wee hours of the morning!  

The next day brought us the kind of day every motorcyclist dreams of. We road from Merida to San Cristobal via Tovar, Bailadores, La Grita and El Cobre. The distance is 162 miles and it took us all day to cover this distance. The distance between Bailadores and La Grita is only 10 miles as the crow flies but takes 50 miles to cover due to the numerous curves getting over the pass at 10,300 ft.. John and I figure that there was a curve almost every 300 ft on average, most hairpin turns, and that we made close to 7,000 shifts. The scenery was spetacular. We stopped for gas and lunch in La Grita. We had one of our best meals at the Restaurante La Grita at the intersection with the road to El Cobre. We ordered arroz con pollo, which was made with a light curry flavouring, and we gobbled it up not knowing if we were just hungry or if it really was that good. On the way over the next pass, which was not quite has high, 8,300 ft, Vicki`s bike developed some trouble. Her oil pressure light kept coming on. We checked the oil level and found that it was a quart low, so we filled it up, and started off again, but that did not fix it. We pulled over again and laid the bike over on its side thinking we would change the oil pressure sensor. But we did not have a wrench that would fit it. It takes a 24mm wrench and the largest we had was a 22mm. While we had the bike on its side we noticed that oil had been blowing out from around the sensor, and so dirt had built up on it. So I cleaned it off and reconnected it. 

Where we had to stop was the only place with three feet of concrete and a large male turkey that took our motorcycles as a threat to his territory. He proceeded to strut around, extend his feathers and verbally challenge us. We decided that we had to try to find a place with a wrench if we were going to do anything. So we asked around about a gas station and we were told there was one not too far down the road. So we loaded everything back on the bikes and headed down the road leaving the turkey secure in the fact that he had faithfully defended his property. Vicki indicated shortly after starting that the problem had corrected itself. We managed to make it all the way to San Cristobal before dark and got ourselves checked in to a hotel. 

The next morning we got an early start on securing the carnets needed for the rest of the trip. First stop was passport pictures for John and then over to the Touring y Automovil Club de Venezuela to apply for our carnets. A nice young lady showed us in and made copies of our titles and the entry permits given to us by the National Guard. She filled out the forms with our help and told us to come back around 5:00 pm to collect the finished documents. They cost about $300.00 US for each one and after the trouble we had with customs in La Guira we decided it was cheap insurance. We did not want to get to some border deep in South America and be asked for them. It turns out $110.00 US is refundable when we return to Venezuela so it really is cheap insurance. 

We are now ready for our crossing into Colombia! After loading our motorcycles this morning, checking out of the hotel and going up for that last cup of coffee the skies opened and fog moved in. We kept drinking coffee hoping things would clear but an hour later we decided to scrap the day, check back in to the hotel and get an early start tomorrow morning. It looks like it was a good decision as the rain has finally stopped and the skies are clearing.  You are now completely up to date on our journies. We will be in touch from our next cyber cafe stop - wherever that may be!

 January 30,1999

 We finally made it across into Colombia on the 20th of January. The customs procedures took up most of the day, but we met three Japanese riders on Honda 250's that were waiting at the customs office for paperwork also. We ended up staying the night in Cucuta, Colombia . The next day we started out for Bucaramanga, Colombia and on our way out of town we were stopped by the police. The asked for our papers and asked if we weren't afraid. They said that there had been some rebel activity up the road the day before and that several trucks and twenty persons had been detained by the rebels. 

We said that we were not afraid, but promised to check with the National Police in Pampolana, prior to entering the area where the trouble had been. We do so and they say that everything is under control. I figured that the best day to go through would be the day after trouble, as they would surely beef-up security. When we get to the location of the trouble there is another military checkpoint, they ask us where we are going, and let us go. 

Shortly afterwards my bike developed trouble, sputter's and then quits all together on a hill. We push it up hill a short ways to a level spot where we start to tackle the problem. I am not getting any spark. So we start replacing electronic components. First the coil, then the diode board and finally the control canister. This finally fixes it. We laod everything back-up and take off. But, after a short while it sputter's again. We now think that it is a short. We wiggle a few wires and it starts again. We manage to make it into Bucaramanga, but he bike has not been running right. I finally figure it out the next morning. I had loosened the negative lead to the battery in order to disconnect it while we were working on it, and failed to tighten it again, thus causing it to loose power from time to time. 

From Bucaramanga we travel to Tunja and then on to Bogota. We are at the airport using the Internet cafe there, trying to catch-up on our email when the place starts to sway. Vicki asks if we feel the building moving or if it just her. We say that yes we feel it and all notice that the doors are moving and that hanging signs are swinging. We take notice but no one seems too upset by the whole thing. When we leave the airport the cab driver asks if we have heard about the terrible earthquake. We say that we felt it, but he starts to tell us about all the dead and the devastation in and around Armenia, Colombia. Our plans have us going through this area the very next day, the television is non-stop coverage about the damage, and the pictures look grim. So we make plans to take an alternate route down the Rio Magdalena river valley and cross over the mountains back to Popayan. 

However, when we stop the next morning for air and gas, a man asks us where we are going. I tell him of our plans, as we have heard about the earthquake. He says that the area we plan to go is not safe and that the road over the mountains is not very good. I don't know how much of this is true, but we decide to take his advise and proceed through the area of the earthquake, which he says that we should be able to get through on the bikes. 

So we make our way towards Armenia. As we get near we stop for a rest stop at a place along the road. We have seen a lot of landslides and parts of the road had collapsed. We asked the owner of the place if he had suffered any damage, and he pointed out some structural damage, and said that all the merchandise had been thrown to the floor. They had spent the day cleaning up. As we entered the area of the earthquake we saw people lined up for water. While others seemed dazed and where sitting in front of what had been their home or business. Others were packing up what they could salvage in to their cars or pick-up's. We had to cover a distance of about 290 miles that day since there was no water or electricity for anything, much less hotels in the area of the earthquake. So we made it to Palmira after dark, but we at least had a hotel with utilities. The following day we made the short run to Popayan and checked into the Hotel El Monasterio, a converted 18th century Franciscan monastery. 

John and Sally have been reading "Jupiter's Travels" by Ted Simon, and mention that they read that he had stayed here twenty-five years earlier, during his around the world journey. We make our way to the border town of Ipiales where we spend the night, so as to give us an early start at the border procedures. The next day we make our way to the border, and have the bikes and ourselves stamped out. This usually goes rather quick as they don't mind seeing you go. But, when we get to the Ecuadorian side we get our passports stamped, they stamp our carnet's and we are through in record time. If the carnet's get us through the borders this quickly from now on, then we made a wise investment. 

We make our way to Otavalo, Ecuador where we stay at the Casa de Hacienda a few kilometers out of town. It is located in a verdant green valley surrounded by two volcano's. It is a very tranquil place. We arrive on Friday knowing that the village is known for its Saturday market, and spend the night so that we can go to the market the next morning. The market the next day is wonderful. The indigenous people arrive in their native dress, set-up stalls covering a plaza that's an entire block and spills over into the streets that approach the plaza for blocks. The colors, sights and sounds remind me very much of the market at Chichicastenango, Guatemala. We return to the hotel for lunch and load up making our way to Quito, Ecuador, the capitol of this country. On the way we pass the Equator. Quito is a large city and we are glad that we have hit it on a weekend, so that the traffic isn't so bad as we enter a strange town. This brings you up to date with our travels, as I am writing this from a cyber cafe in Quito, Ecuador. Thanks to all of those who wrote with their concerns for us, due to the earthquake. We are alive and well, and will continue to send reports as we get the opportunity. 

February 14, 1999

 I have been remiss in getting our travel log out. So for all those who have been clamoring for it, here goes. When I last wrote we were in Quito, Ecuador. We enjoyed Quito quite a bit, even though we had quite the experience with the cabby from hell. We hired him to lead us through town to the hotel, and he took it as some kind of race challenge. We managed to also catch the Super Bowl game on TV, even though it was not a very good game. Things got pretty crazy upon our departure from Quito. We left early in order to try to beat the rush hour traffic, when we came to a small town on the outskirts of Quito called Lasso. As we entered town there was a railroad crossing. Normally this would not be a big deal, but it had been raining and there where puddles in and around the area where the crossing was. It turns out that there were large holes on either side of the tracks, hidden by the fact that they were full of water. The tracks alone can be a problem to motorcycles, but you mix that with the fact that they were wet and that the asphalt was torn up on either side, and you have the recipe for disaster. I managed to get over all right, but when I looked back in my mirror, I saw John pulling over to the right and stopping. So, I pulled over and stopped, but when I looked back I saw Vicki's bike literally upside down in the middle of the street. It was resting on the handlebars, seat and saddlebags, with the tires straight up in the air. I made a U-turn and rode back to her. She was up and walking around, but was holding what I thought was her hand, which I thought she had injured in the fall. I asked her if she was all right and she said yes, but I did not know if this was just shock talking. Later I came to find out that it was her hip that had been injured. Several by-standerīs righted the bike and helped to get it out of the street. I surveyed the damage while Sally checked on Vicki. The bike suffered minor damage. The windshield was demolished and the right hand mirror had broken at the shaft. This was the damage that was immediately apparent. John and I fixed things as best possible, by removing what was left of the windshield and replacing the mirror with one that I had brought as a replacement. When we got ready to start out again, I noticed that one of the brackets that holds the saddlebags in place had broken in the fall. We bungeed things as best we could and agreed to look for someplace to get it welded. We had not traveled more than a few kilometers, when I spotted a wrought iron shop. We made a quick U-turn and went there to have a new piece made. We were back on the road without too much delay. We made it just past Riobamba in time for lunch, even with the accident and all. So, we figured that we could make it into Cuenca without too much trouble. Well, that was the first mistake, as we did not realize that the road had been severely damaged by last years El Nino rains. The owner of the restaurant had told us that it would take us another five to six hours to get there. He also said that he hoped that it was not raining in the mountains for us. We said bye, and shortly afterwards it started to rain. We were heading up a mountain, the fog was getting worse and the rain was making it impossible to see. We finally decided to give up the glasses and faceshields, because we could not see at all otherwise. The road went from bad to worse, and it was getting later and later. We finally pulled into Cuenca at 9pm that evening. I think that we all thought about shipping our bikes home at some point during this day. The only saving grace to this day was the fact that the hotel that we had tried so hard to make, was well worth the effort. When we arrived they presented us with hot towels, like the ones that they give on airplane flights, which came in handy due to the fact that we had driven with our faceshields open and our faces were covered in mud. I doubt that they will be able to use those towels again, since they were covered in grime after we used them. Another one of their welcome courtesies was a hot toddy made from a local liqour which tasted allot like hot spiced cider and was so good we asked for seconds. We spent the next day relaxing in Cuenca, but we had heard that there was to be a general strike nationwide, that would close the highways and borders, for an indefinite amount of time. So we decided to make a run for the border. But we knew that the road there included some dirt portions, and after the experience of the other day, we weren't sure how long it would take, and whether we would make it to the border in time, since it closes at 6pm in the afternoon. Needless to say we arrived at the border at five-twenty, and I asked for the immigration office. They pointed back towards the nearest town and said in the Municipal Building. We rode back like bats out of Hell and found the place. We ran up and presented our passports. The officer asked for our entry forms and we said that they only stamped our passport upon entry. He informed us that the stamp we had was only a customs stamp and not an immigration stamp, thus we were in the country illegally. I said,Ļ We are leaving and have been through the entire country without anyone questioning our papers. So what do we do now?ĻĻ He said that there was a fine and I asked how much. He said ten thousand sucres each. Well that was just fine, as that amount works out to be about a dollar fifty each. But, we had to fill out the entry forms which we had not done when entering and every minute that passed made it less likely that we would get across. Finally, it was over and we raced back to the border arriving at five fifty. We rushed into the customs office to get our motorcycle papers stamped out of Ecuador and they take their sweet time. The immigration officer from the Peruvian side comes over the bridge to advise us to hurry as he is getting ready to close. Each one of us rushes over as soon as their papers are stamped, but there is a form to fill out. By the time I finish with this, I run over to the customs office to get the bike stamped in. The officer is there grining and says, "Sorry we are closed." I ask, "What know?" He tells me that we will have to leave the bikes there at the bridge over night and stay in some dive around the corner, where the bed bugs are fierce. However, if we are willing to pay for overtime, they can stay open. He informs me that for twenty bucks a bike he will get us through. I know that this is highway robbery, but what choice do we have. By the time we get out it is getting dark and the closest place with any decent accommodations is one hundred kilometers away. So we ride about thirty minutes past the border to a little village called Suyo, where we find some lodging that stops just short of camping. We end up with two rooms, with two cots each and a bathroom outside around the corner of the building. The next day we make it into Piura, but while loading Vickiīs bike in the morning, we notice that there are some more spots that need some welding. While we are getting it worked on someone points out a nail in her rear tire. We wait to pull it at the hotel, so that if it leaks, we will at least be were we can fix it. When we finally pull the nail, nothing happens, but we decide to check the other tire. It has a thorn in it and when we pull it, the tire goes flat immediately. So we pull the tire and replace the tube with a new one. We patch the old one and keep it as a spare. The next day we make our way to Chiclayo. The road is pretty good, but the bridges have been destroyed by the rains of the previous year, and most have detours around them. We stay an extra day in this area as there are allot of Pre-Columbian ruins here. Next, we ride down to Chimbote, which is not much of anything except a port town, and a place for us to stay. The following day we are headed up into the Cordillera Blanca to a town called Huaraz. We have been warned about the mountain roads in the rainy season, so we opt to take the asphalt road to the South. It means ridding up two hundred kilometers and back tracking to Paramonga to catch the road into Lima. On our way up we go over a 13,800ft pass, finally ending up at 10,500ft, when we get to Huaraz. Which is nestled at the foot of Mount Huarascan, an area that is very popular with mountain climbers. We spend two nights in the cool mountain air, before making our way back down to the coast and the road into Lima. On the way into Lima, we get nailed by two motorcycle cops with a radar gun, who pull us over as a group. One of them comes over and starts talking to me and I play dumb tourista. He walks me over to his other buddy and starts to explain the fine. I ask if we can settle it there. He says we can and hits me up for about thirty bucks apiece. I pay it and they split quickly, as this too is another pay-off. We do take it a little easier the rest of the way into Lima, which is where we find ourselves now.

 == Kenneth & Vicki Upchurch kupchu9702@yahoo.com 

VSUpchurch@yahoo.com

kupchu9702@yahoo.com VSUpchurch@yahoo.com

We spend almost a week in La Paz waiting for parts from the States.

 The battery on Vickiīs bike has quit holding enough of a charge to start the bike if we leave it sitting for more than overnight. We find that we can bump start it, which is pushing it and letting out the clutch rapidly in order to get the engine to fire. We are worried that it will only get worse, so we order a new battery from the U.S., because none are available here. While we are at it, we also order the other items that we need, like an entire turn signal housing and the rear brake light switch. The turn signal housing was lost to a fire that was caused by the exhaust melting the left rear turn signal. The bag that we were carrying on the rear luggage rack was pushing down on the rubber staff placing the turn signal housing in front of the exhaust, which eventually melted the entire housing. 

The shipment took longer getting here because it included a battery, which is considered hazardous material. But,the battery was dry and did not include any acid. Still, the shipment was held up in the U.S. for three days till they could confirm that. 

Finally we received the shipment. I went out to find someone with acid and a charger, so that we could activate the battery. Once this was done we fixed Vickiīs bike and were ready to head out. But, while in La Paz we met at the Internet a fellow from Delaware by the name of Dennis Moore, who was living in Bolivia and happened to be a motorcycle rider. He had just recently made the trip down South towards Tierra del Fuego. We got to talking to him about our plans, he suggested taking the paved road over to the coast of Chile and riding down from there, as the roads in the South of Bolivia were not good especially at this time of year, which is the rainy season in the mountains. 

We regretted leaving the mountains, but opted for the pavement and the coast road since we were well behind our schedule for making it down to Tierra del Fuego. This way we could probably make up sometime and still be able to make it all the way down. However, we were really already pushing the limit, considering the weather conditions for the region. We find a great paved road once out of the city limits of La Paz. We follow the road South towards Oruro for about eighty miles before turning West on to a brand new paved road the border with Chile and the coastal town of Arica. 

While in Bolivia we find ourselves on a high altitude plain called an ĻAltiplanoĻ in Spanish. Just before the border we start to climb up to a mountain pass. The Bolivian and Chilean borders are almost eleven miles apart, with military bases and mine field separating them. This is due to the hostilities still felt over the territory lost to Chile by both Bolivia and Peru during a territorial war. Bolivia become a land locked country and lost itīs access to the coast, as a result of this war. When we arrive at the Chilean border it is readily apparent that this country is much more organized and affluent than any other we have been to as of yet. At this point we are starting to get worried about our gas situation. This being an almost new road, it does not have any facilities as of yet. They are building a new gas station on the Bolivian side, but it is not open yet. 

So, we ask at the Chilean border for gas and they say fifty miles ahead. After about thirty miles we come to a town that is down in a valley about two miles below us. There is a sign indicating facilities available in town, but no mention of gas. We decide because of the mileage and the sign not to waste gas by driving down to investigate. This turns out to be a mistake as we do not come across any other place further down the road.

As luck would have it we finally come to a place with a couple of restaurants that look like truck and bus stops. I pull into the first and ask for gas, but she says to try the other place across the street. I ride over while Vicki and John wait. Sure enough they have a small amount of fuel available out of a drum. We pop inside the restaurant to warm-up while we wait for the fuel. They are serving a nice looking chicken stew which we order and find to be just the right thing for our cold bodies. We split twenty liters of fuel among the three bikes, which means that we take on an extra gallon and a half apiece. It turns out that this is enough to get us all to our destination without even hitting reserve. We do however stop at the first gas station that we find entering Arica. 

We find our way along the coast road to the Hotel Arica, which is directly on the ocean. We finally end up in cottages on the beach, where we can park directly by the room and unload the bikes without having to drag our stuff inside to some room. Vicki is not feeling well and skips dinner. The next day she is not any better. So after awhile we decide to stay and let Vicki rest. John and I decide to do some maintenance. We check my valves and find that they are extremely tight. So, we adjust them. 

At this point I make a decision that latter comes back to haunt us. John suggests that we take a look at Vickiīs bike since the same mechanic worked on both. I say that it can wait till we do a tune-up in Viņa del Mar, where I intend to change oil, spark plugs and clean the filters. We also have new tires arriving when we get there. 

Later that day Vicki finally gets up to have a little lunch and by evening she is feeling better, but a bit shaky. The next day we find ourselves riding in the great northern desert of Chile. It is an extremely stark, barren terrain and reminds us of what the moon might look like. We ride South till we come to the turn off back to the coast and the town of Iquique. The approach to town is quite impressive, because you find yourself riding on top of a sand dune about 2,500ft tall when you finally spot the town below at sea level. 

We enjoy this town even though we are there for only a short time. The architecture in the old part of town reminds us of New Orleans. As we are loading the bikes in the morning a couple approaches us and we start talking. We had planed to take the inland road since our maps show the coast road to have some dirt portions. But, the gentleman says that he had made the trip down the coast only two weeks earlier and it was paved all the way to Antofagasta. We thank him for the information and head out of town down the coastal raod. It is a fantastic road and much cooler than the desert road would have been. 

When we get to Antofagasta we head out to look for an Internet site as we have not seen one since Arica. It is funny but since arriving in Chile it has been far more difficult to find Internet connections than in some of the poorer countries. We are not quite sure why. Maybe it is because people can afford their own here. We spend quite awhile on our scavenger hunt for the Internet, but to no avail. We find someone willing to take us to their home and allow us to use theirs, but we do not want to impose. 

The police in Chile ride BMW motorcycles and we have even seen a few of the new R1100 police models, but most are riding an older R80RT model. The roads here are very good and we are racking up a series of 260 to 300 mile days, which is really improving our progress South. Our route from here takes us inland once again, and by the time we get down to Copiapo we are starting to see some vegetation and even some wine vineyards. We spend the night at a little motel along the highway, where we can park right by the room. 

Another sign of the difference between Chile and the other countries we have visited. Our guidebooks do not show alot of facilities between here and Viņa, so we opt to ride to the La Serena area and look for a place to stay before we make our final push into Viņa del Mar. We end up staying in a little seaside village called Tongoy south of La Serena. The next morning the hotel does not have anything but instant coffee, which Vicki will not drink. So the day is off to a bad start. 

We head out South and it is not till we reach the town of Los Vilos before we find a gas station with proper coffee. We are told by some folks there that we should turn off the highway and head along the coast towards Papudo on our way to Viņa del Mar. We do and it is a spectacular drive which reminds me of parts of the California coast. The coast is lined with gorgeous summer homes belonging to folks that live in Santiago. Things are rather quiet at the moment along here as it is late fall and heading into the winter season. When we arrive in Viņa we find that the hotel that we had picked out in the guidebook is not open anymore. So, it is back to the book to locate another, which we do and it turns out to be in the heart of the shopping district with an Internet site just a block and a half away. I contact Willy Samyn, who represents Pancho Villa Moto Tours here in Chile, to inquire about our tires. He says that he has everything there, so I tell him that I will be right over to pick things up. Vicki and I ride over and Willy comes out to meet us. I have heard alot about him from Skip Mascorro and he is a delightful person. We spend a little time talking and getting to know each other. Ana, his wife, comes by with their daughter Nicole and we all sit and chat for awhile. We invite them out to dinner, but it is Nicoleīs eighteenth birthday and they have plans. So, we extend the invitation to tomorrow night. Willy gives us a ride back to the hotel with all of the tires and we say good-bye till tomorrow. 

We have quite a bit of work to do on the bikes, but I donīt want to mess up the parking lot of the hotel. Plus, we donīt have anywhere to dump the oil when we change it. So, I go out looking for someplace that will let us perform the work. I luck into a Fiat car dealership only a block away that will let us work on our bikes there and also dump our oil for us. Everything goes smoothly until we check Vickiīs valves and they too are extremely tight. We make the adjustment to the valves, besides changing the oil, spark plugs and cleaning both the air and oil filters. We leave changing out the front tires until the next morning in the hotel parking lot since this is not a messy job. But, we take the old tires over to the dealership to dispose of them for us. The bikes are now ready for the next leg of the trip.