The Andes are the longest mountain range in the world and they run down the western coast of South America for 4500 miles and are 430 miles at the widest point. The highest peak Aconcagua is 22,840 feet and in Peru the highest is Huscaniann at 22,205 feet. The Northern Andes where I was riding are tropical.  So what was I, a 71 year old with a triple heart by pass doing sitting astride a Suzuki DR 650 Trail bike some 15,000 feet up in the Andes. Well I was on my latest motorcycle adventure.

I flew out on the 19^th June heading for Lima on a 17 day tour.  I was to join 6 other riders, one of them, Mark with his wife Carroll on the pillion! The others ranged from 38 to 65 years of age. We each made our own way to Lima where we were collected and taken to a hotel for the night. The following morning we all met up at breakfast for the first time and what a great bunch of guys they were. My room mate for the duration was 42 yr old Alastair from Dundee and he turned out to been about the nicest person that you could imagine. We were taken on a short walk around Lima to get the feel of the country and we then set off in our Mercedes minibus to collect our bikes some 30 miles away.

The bikes stood lined up outside of a lock up shop, 4 Suzuki DR 650`s, 2 Honda 250`s and 2 Honda 650cc Trans Alps. I was allocated a blue Suzuki and I was in heaven riding off along the Pan American Highway towards the Andes. I was surprised to find desert on both sides of the road with dunes rising high into the grey overcast skies. The road was good and I asked for permission to zoom ahead on my 650 as Peter struggled on his 250 to get any speed up. Everything was in kilometres so I took my speedo to also be in K`s so I set it at an indicated 80. After some 15 miles I noticed that it was actually in mph. I pulled over to await the rest of the group and then continued at 50 mph or so. Leaving the desert behind the green hills appeared with mountains in the distance. The smoke appearing at many places near to the top of the hills was coming from burning grass set alight by the locals to appease the gods. After all, we were in a 3^rd world country I suppose.

Our 1^st Hotel was very good indeed, but during the 14 days in Peru the quality varied as high up in the Northern Andes there are few tourists and we had to make do with what was available. But saying that, it was all part of the adventure. The food varied from brilliant to diabolical and that included the Peruvian speciality of baked, stone flattened Guinea Pig!

We stayed 3 times on the Pacific coast and each time the weather was dull and grey. But once into the mountains the sun shone brilliantly, often with white fluffy clouds.

The roads in the mountains and canyons were either, stony, rocky, sandy or a mixture of all three and provided us with some very entertaining riding. As I rode along these rough tracks my memories took me back some 50 years and more to my scrambling days. I was amazed that none of my off road skills has left me and I felt as though I was 18 yrs old again. Even more to my surprise I found that my stamina, no doubt boosted by huge amounts of adrenalin, was standing surprisingly well. This had been my main concern, but I need not have worried as I gave a good account of myself amongst the younger riders in the group.

Back in England we had been told that we could ride off alone if we wished to at our own pace and stop just as we wished. The thought of riding alone high in the Andes had captured my imagination, so with a map marked up with rendezvous points I frequently took full advantage of doing just that.  Stopping for a drink of water and a snack bar and sitting alone in complete silence high in the Andes with the pampas grass swaying in a silent breeze is a memory that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Of course, riding alone does have its drawbacks as I found out several times. But this was supposed to be a motorcycle adventure so falling off and also getting lost only added to that feeling.    The bus was heading straight at me, so the only option was to attempt to ride over the 2 foot high sandy bank to safety. But my front wheel had other ideas, so I finished up on my ear much to the delight of the passengers in the bus that had no option but to stop.

Another time our run leader Franco, a quite brilliant young Peruvian graduate electrical engineer, suggested that he and I take a steep down hill climb to cut out about half a mile of mountain track.   I willingly accepted the challenge and followed him downwards over loose stones, boulders and logs.   My trials riding experience came in very useful, but I followed too close and as Franco slid sideways I had no option but to lay my bike down on the 1:3 hill. At 71 years of age trying to pick up a big 650 trail bike was beyond me so Franco had to pick himself up and then pick my bike up for me! Great fun though. My third tumble again occurred riding down hill, but his time I was alone. The sharp bend had a nicely formed berm to ride around but I approached too fast in the wrong gear and not fully in control. My front wheel went over the top of the berm and I was down on my elbow, ribs and hip with my leg stuck under the bike that had slewed around lying across the berm. I paused and then managed to lever the bike off my leg. The wind had been knocked out of me and I was going nowhere, so I decided to sit and wait for the others to come and pick up my bike for me!

Getting lost on roads devoid of sign posts in a strange country can be rather concerning. But I only had myself to blame having missed a small turning in a remote mountain village. I finished up running low on petrol, having to find someone with enough to keep me going and covering an extra 60 miles as darkness engulfed me on a pot holed road with oncoming traffic. But this was an adventure I kept saying to myself. The other time I became isolated was not my fault, for I had stopped in a little village at a road side café to wait for the others whilst making friends with the locals. I waited 45 mins and then gave up. It transpired that they had bypassed the village centre. I arrived at the rendezvous point and waited. I rode down to the town in the hope of finding someone but it was pointless so I returned to the rendezvous point where a local policeman managed to tell me that 6 bikes had ridden by at 4.18. How they had got in front of me I could not at that time understand. My phone did not work and the police man could get no answer from Dave’s house in Cajamarca where we were heading.

In the end, the very friendly policeman jumped on the back of my bike and guided me all the way to the door and even rung the bell for me. The rest of the group thought it hilarious that I had the police bringing me home. I paid him his taxi fare of 75p back the 3 miles to his check point and of course a very handsome bonus.

Loose dogs were everywhere. Some chased you trying to get a bite of your leg. Poor Louise, the only lady rider in our group, fell foul of a large brown mongrel that got hold of her leg and would not let go as she road along with the dog hanging from her leg. The following day I travelled with her in the minibus to the local hospital to get her rabies injection that had to be repeated each day for 7 days.

My bike was suffering from a worn chain and I was one morning very pleasantly surprised to find that I had a new chain and sprockets. My steering then went distinctly lumpy and Heh Presto, the following day I had new head bearings. Some brilliant maintenance by Franco well into the early hours was much appreciated.

There is no praise too high for the tour staff of, Dave Groves, Peter, Lorenzo, Carlos and of course my great new chum Franco.

Was it worth all the trouble? You can bet it was! It is the best £2500 pounds that I have ever spent in my life.

Gerry Gooch.