So our first couple of days in Brazil hadn’t been too successful.
But we woke up in our luxury hotel room feeling a little bit less defeated than we did the day before, and after putting a few hours of work into the bike she started up again, much to our surprise.
We’d looked into hiring a van for the rest of the way, but it was going to cost us about $400 just to get to the coast just a couple of hundred kilometres away, where we’d have to hire another vehicle or look into trains. It was too expensive and too much hassle so we went with one last ditch attempt at forcing Betty the BSA to comply.
So we were pretty happy when she sputtered to life, and taking no chances we jumped straight on. We just rode and rode, through rolling hills and fields (not quite what we expected Brazil to look like) across most of the width of southern Brazil as we tried to get to the coast, where it would be easier to get the bike to Montevideo by other means. Ironically with the bike barely holding it together, we somehow ended up riding more kilometres in a single day than we had on any other journey so far this trip.
We pulled up at a nice campsite just outside of Curitiba, a big city not far from the coast. We arrived at 8pm and by 8am we were packed up and ready to leave, totally determined to get the last few hundred kilometres to the coast where we could relax on a beach whilst deciding what to do about the bike.
She started fine but as we came to leave, she would barely pull away. Without me on she did move, but the clutch was now slipping so badly that no gears would engage. We would not be going anywhere any time soon.
For the third time we took the crank case apart and had a look at the clutch, which was in a sorry state. There were bits of metal and rubber in every little orifice. After speaking to our on-hand classic bike pro, Rod, on Skype, we determined that by riding in the heat with the clutch already slipping, the internal rubber had completely melted, meaning the three internal arms were in turn smashing against the inside of the clutch. In summary we’d completely burnt it out.
The only way we were going anywhere was if we cleared out all the gunk and metal from inside, and somehow found someone to weld two pieces of the clutch together so that they moved as one, stopping the clutch from slipping.
Already we had attracted quite an audience, with the campsite owner and his friend watching plus an Argentinian pilot - who spoke excellent English - who helped us translate to the Portuguese-speaking campsite owner about what was going on. Both men could not have been more helpful, creating shade for us, bringing out all kinds of tools, rags, containers and anything at all they could provide to help. So when we found out we needed some welding to be done, we knew if anyone could make it happen it was these guys. So we told the pilot about our problem who in turn spoke to the campsite owner, and within ten minutes we had a welder by the bike doing exactly what we needed. On-site service within fifteen minutes for less than twenty dollars. We were gobsmacked.
But not as gobsmacked as we were when we put her back together and started her up, to find that not only did she run absolutely fine but the gears did not slip one bit, which hadn’t been the case for thousands of kilometres. Five hours of work seems like a lot, but to be back on the road that same day was a complete miracle, and we were overwhelmingly grateful to the wonderful guys who helped us that day, including Tom’s dad Rod in the UK who sat by the computer for five hours, taking calls from us whenever we needed help and advice and without whom we would never have identified the problem.
Two weeks later we’ve not only made it to the coast, but all the way down it so that very soon we’ll be into the seventeenth and final country – Uruguay. We have hopped from town to town, soaking up some sun in Bombinhas, jumping about in the waves on the island of Florianopolis, cliff walking in Torres and finally a ride down the spit to a very soggy ferry, to a totally sodden Rio Grande. And somehow, all without any problems from the bike.
With less than three weeks to go until we fly home, and with the end really in sight, there’s a lot of mixed feelings going on. Before long we’ll be in Uruguay, with only a few hundred kilometres to go before dropping the bike off in Montevideo, when it really will be over. We’re nervous, excited, sad… but for now are just trying to absorb these last few moments of this amazing adventure, whilst hoping the darn bike can make it through this last little bit!