It has been over 40 years since I did my motorcycle trip. People have asked, when talking about motorcycle trips, if I had ever put pen to paper. No, I never thought about it; there are always motorcycle riders out all over the place, travelling all over the world all the time, and there always will be. But recently, I read Jo and Gareth Morgan’s trip Up the Andes, and a few other articles in the local BMW Register newsletters. I thought I should do my bit and contribute a page for them. I started flicking through my 1971 Whitcombe diary, and that page started spilling into many more pages.
I hope that this old story might still be of interest for a few. It was a trip done before cell phones, computers, or good maps were available, and you used traveler’s cheques instead of credit cards or ATMs. The purpose of the trip was to visit my aging relatives in Scotland, and as I enjoyed motorcycling and travel, the first decision for the journey was: how do I get there by motorbike? There was no access through Burma, and as I’d done some motorcycling out a bit to the West and never to the East, East it was. The Americas.
But what with? I had two 650cc Triumphs, saints for everyday use, as well as a 1967 Trophy, which I used for a bit of road racing and hill climbing with the Ixion Motorcycle Club in Wellington. Being familiar with the Triumph and having five of them, I knew the basics of how to strip them down and fix most things. Parts were not too expensive, and readily available. The only problem with the metal technology of that era was a bit of wear and tear in the engine department after about 25,000 miles, but all bits were fixable.
Then, when visiting White’s Motorcycles for some new bits, the manager, Frank Wilson, said, “We have a surplus of new Transport Department 650cc Trophy police bikes, 1970 white, up for grabs.”
Most, if not all, South and Central American police used this bike, and, being less than two years old, it would get me a $300 tax refund off the original price upon my leaving the country. Easy decision: swap two bikes for one.
To test ride and warm up my new bike, I rode a big figure-8 around both islands, North and South, using as many backroads as possible, all the while working out a budget and travel kit in my head. Then, it was time to start looking for transport to South America.
Air travel was not an option then, so I checked out a Chilean tramp steamer plying between Australia, New Zealand, and Chile. But this steamer proved evasive and, giving up on it, I planned to shorten my ride by picking up easy shipping to Panama and riding north from there. But one day, my friendly shipping agent called up to say an Italian passenger liner, the Achille Lauro, was calling into Wellington before heading around the bottom of South America to Buenos Aires, stopping on the way in Punta Arenas. I had less than a week to prepare. Could I be ready in time? I said yes, and got moving.
I could only obtain a couple of visas; the rest I would have to acquire en route. The carnet—a merchandise passport—for the bike was a bit of a worry, as the value of the bike new was $1200. However, a valuation from White’s Motorcycles managed to reduce the now used bike by 1/3, to $800, which my father covered and insured for about $5. I decided against a carnet for Brazil, as a $10,000 bond was required; luckily, I didn’t need to go there, as there were no roads north of the Amazon, and I’d have to get north before winter set in. I made a quick trip to Lawton & Boyle, my local motorcycle shop, which sorted out the required wooden crate.
A couple of vaccinations were required before departure, with others to be obtained en route. There was no time to change tyres, clean, or do anything else to the bike, and no time to learn any Spanish, or even to find a Spanish-English dictionary. The Automobile Association sorted out my international license and carnet, but could not provide any maps other than some notes, a stick map, and to inform me that at least 10% of the Pan American highway had been sealed.
My bike kit consisted of two soft leather saddle bags and a faded green, well-used Stalker tramping pack, just in case the bike gave out and I had to walk. I also had some basic tools, a sleeping bag, a waterproof groundsheet, and fork and spoon—I’d lost the knife. I had my riding gear, open face helmet, goggles, and riding gloves, as well as a diary from Whitcombe and Tombs Ltd., a South America handbook, my Youth Hostels Association card, and my old man’s umbrella. For clothing, I had a Kiwi Parka raincoat and trousers, a green Harris Tweed sports jacket with leather buttons, corduroy trousers because I never wore jeans back then, a pair of suede brothelcreeper shoes, a good thick jersey, fleece-lined mitts, boots, socks, and other essentials. There was no time to be selective; I had to just get up and go, and if I needed something I’d buy it along the way.
My travel finances included a $350 passenger fare, $36 for the bike, $500 in traveler’s cheques in my pocket, with another $300 to New York and $300 to Los Angeles, and all of my travel expenses based on a $3 a day budget. I planned that if people would assist me with accommodation and entertainment, I would contribute to my $3 daily budget by way of food, wine, beer, or some sort of present.
Then, after all of my frantic preparation, on Friday the 26th of February, 1971, I boarded the Achille Lauro and began my journey.