XXXpedition
Explorer
the site doesn'tseem to be up...
i'm looking forward to reports and pics, though...
Feral Green - California to Tierra del Fuego
- Thread starter feralgreen
- Start date
i'm looking forward to reports and pics, though...
Scott Brady
Founder
SOAZ
Tim and Kelsey get lost..
First update. Sounds like a ford to me. hehe!
http://www.feralgreen.com/feralblog/?p=4
http://www.feralgreen.com/feralblog/?p=4
XXXpedition
Explorer
that worked, scott.
thanks
thanks
adventureduo
Dave Druck [KI6LBB]
already a dead battery, got stuck and ripped the bead off the rim.. Dang. Hopefully the rest of the trip will be better.
elcoyote
Supporting Sponsor, Overland Certified OC0004
Some updates....
September 21, 2007
The last week in Baja produced more highs and lows for Feral Green than a UCLA football season ending with pepper spray. We found out the brakes on our truck were shot the hard way. Pushing them to the floor and realizing we were 14,000 pounds without a way to slow down. Using a combination of downshifting and the emergency brake, we made our way into Guerrero Negro, the first main town in Baja Sur. Before the mechanic’s opened in the A.M, we went to refill our potable water, which had run dry at our last camp. Bill tried to ease the tuck into the parking lot, but ended up having no braking power and smashed into the door to the water company’s truck at a low speed. An awkward silence ensued. The workers came out of the purified water shop and stared at us with wide eyes. After making sure the window rolled up with ease, they began cracking up and told us not to worry about a thing. Relieved, we told them to keep the change for our water bill, and we set out for repair.
We took the truck to a mechanic’s shop run by a man nicknamed El Chepe, who we later named El Chepiac due to the fact that he was crazier than Gary Bucci after a seven day bender. Putting down his 2nd Tecate (it was 10AM) and belching loudly, El Chepiac informed us our master cylinder was bad. He laughed and told us that he would have to order the part from San Diego, which would take a few days. Eyeing the dingy town, replete with mangy cur and plenty of trash, we decided to limp our injured rig to a new venue on the beach in search of some tasty waves. Arriving, we found the surf flatter than Jane Fonda’s stomach. Kevin & Bill went for a spear fish, but found only murky seaweed and some mean looking plastic bottles. Eric befriended a local fisherman named Alicio, who gave us some mesquite and cactus to burn for firewood in a land where kindle is scarcer than non-alcoholic beer in a taco shop. We thanked our new friend for the tinder and set up camp in the windy darkness. Standing around the fire, Bill had two scorpions crawl across his feet in less than 20 minutes… we spent the rest of the night taking turns checking for scorpions on the ground with the flashlight.
We spent the next day working on the truck: painting, electrical work, minor repairs etc. Alicio, the fisherman came by in the evening to check his lobster traps. A spectral shadow, he walked up with his catch of eight healthy looking lobstrocities. Reading our minds and salivating mouths, he offered to share his plunder with us. Like finding $$ in a pair of dirty jeans, our day just became that much better. We gave him a $20 and told him to grab some cerveza and whatever else he needed from town. When he returned, we had already taken the tails off the lobster and he showed us how to remove the intestines and filet them with butter. We ate like kings; lobster, corn, rice, tortillas, beer and enough butter to keep someone on Lipitrol for years to come. We slept easy and awoke early.
Kevin and I took the inflatable boat out fishing with Alicio in the morning and scored 15 fish in just over an hour. We gutted the fish, gave half to Alicio, and took off back to our hovel of a mechanic shop in Guerrero Negro to get our brakes fixed once and for all. Arriving at El Chepiac’s, he and his cronies were already drunker than the 7th inning bleacher section at Dodger Stadium. Yelling at us with a smile on his face, he said the part was in and they would start working on the truck right away. Awesome… nothing like a group of inebriated grease monkeys fixing your brakes in a foreign country. Returning after a few hours of useless internet time, El Chepiac dealt us some bad news. The wrong part came for our brakes and we would have to wait 3 more days for the next part. Being that our truck was disassembled in this madman’s lot, we told him to order the new part and asked him if we could make his mechanic’s yard a motel and sleep there for the next few days. Screaming, he began swearing and finally said “Si, Si, Si. Venga Gringos. Hotel Chepe esta abierto”.
The next three days were like a bad version of the movie Groundhog’s Day, but instead of Bill Murray, we had Bill Boyd. Every morning, El Chepiac would walk into the auto yard (also our hotel at the moment) early in the AM and begin banging on our camper and would yell “pinche gringos” wake up. He would peak his head inside our tent, yell like a maniac, laugh aloud, and would jokingly yell every Spanish expletive I had ever heard of. Laughing with him, we would rise like white zombies out of the auto yard into the dusty streets of Guerrero Negro. El Chepiac and his lackeys would start their day working hard, but drinking harder. We would leave Hotel Chepiac for breakfast at a diner that showed C grade American movies in Spanish and served up a mean short stack of pancakes with tocino (bacon). The real draw to the place was not just the pancakes or entertaining movies, but the fact that they had a bathroom with a toilet seat, a small luxury we had taken for granted early in the trip.
The three days in Guerrero Negro were spent reading, logging internet time, interacting with the locals, playing pool and trying (sometimes in vain) to stay out of trouble. Bill, Kevin and I played soccer in the town soccer match (futbol rapido) on Sunday. Everyone had a great time and Bill pretty much dominated the town single handedly. The kids in the town loved us and sent us home patting our backs and asking us to stay another week. Then Eric scored us 50 gallons of vegetable oil from a guy who ran a taco truck. We filtered the Veg into our sedentary truck in Chepiac’s auto yard and taught some people about our Veg Oil System. The correct brake part finally arrived on Tuesday, September 11. Chepiac told us to buy him a 12 pack before he would start on our truck. We hardnosed him and agreed to buy him and his crew beer when they finished the job. Incentivised and thirsty, El Chepe had our truck fixed and running within 2 hours.
We scored him some cerveza and cash for his help and three days of madness and went to the local welder for some much needed strengthening on our surf racks. The welder, named BUCHO, turned out to be a great guy. He had a dog that was a hermaphrodite and was very proud of IT. He took a great deal of time showing us what a hermaphroditic dog looked like… I will leave it at that. He welded supports for our board rack and spare tire mount. We paid him with some tools we were not using and hit the road just before dark. Bill drove us partway to La Paz that evening. We holed up in a hotel parking lot in Santa Rosalia and took a swim in their pool while security was sound asleep. The next AM we were gone before sunup in an attempt to escape the omnipresent heat. By 3:30 PM on September 12 (Happy B-Day Taylor), we were enjoying phenomenal ice cream in an oasis called
La Paz in the southern part of Baja. We found a spot on the beach to camp and went for a refreshing dip in the Sea of Cortez before bed.
Waking up with sand fleas in our hair, Bill and Eric suggested ice cream for breakfast. Smiling, we rushed into town, grabbed ice creams and got back to the port just in time to get our truck on the ferry from La Paz to Topolobampo, in Mainland Mexico. We parked the rig on the boat and found a nice corner on the boat to hole up for the next 9 hours. As I watch the rowdy truck drivers getting belligerantly drunk before we have even left port, I know inside my head that things are going to get worse on this boat ride before they get better.
September 21, 2007
The last week in Baja produced more highs and lows for Feral Green than a UCLA football season ending with pepper spray. We found out the brakes on our truck were shot the hard way. Pushing them to the floor and realizing we were 14,000 pounds without a way to slow down. Using a combination of downshifting and the emergency brake, we made our way into Guerrero Negro, the first main town in Baja Sur. Before the mechanic’s opened in the A.M, we went to refill our potable water, which had run dry at our last camp. Bill tried to ease the tuck into the parking lot, but ended up having no braking power and smashed into the door to the water company’s truck at a low speed. An awkward silence ensued. The workers came out of the purified water shop and stared at us with wide eyes. After making sure the window rolled up with ease, they began cracking up and told us not to worry about a thing. Relieved, we told them to keep the change for our water bill, and we set out for repair.
We took the truck to a mechanic’s shop run by a man nicknamed El Chepe, who we later named El Chepiac due to the fact that he was crazier than Gary Bucci after a seven day bender. Putting down his 2nd Tecate (it was 10AM) and belching loudly, El Chepiac informed us our master cylinder was bad. He laughed and told us that he would have to order the part from San Diego, which would take a few days. Eyeing the dingy town, replete with mangy cur and plenty of trash, we decided to limp our injured rig to a new venue on the beach in search of some tasty waves. Arriving, we found the surf flatter than Jane Fonda’s stomach. Kevin & Bill went for a spear fish, but found only murky seaweed and some mean looking plastic bottles. Eric befriended a local fisherman named Alicio, who gave us some mesquite and cactus to burn for firewood in a land where kindle is scarcer than non-alcoholic beer in a taco shop. We thanked our new friend for the tinder and set up camp in the windy darkness. Standing around the fire, Bill had two scorpions crawl across his feet in less than 20 minutes… we spent the rest of the night taking turns checking for scorpions on the ground with the flashlight.
We spent the next day working on the truck: painting, electrical work, minor repairs etc. Alicio, the fisherman came by in the evening to check his lobster traps. A spectral shadow, he walked up with his catch of eight healthy looking lobstrocities. Reading our minds and salivating mouths, he offered to share his plunder with us. Like finding $$ in a pair of dirty jeans, our day just became that much better. We gave him a $20 and told him to grab some cerveza and whatever else he needed from town. When he returned, we had already taken the tails off the lobster and he showed us how to remove the intestines and filet them with butter. We ate like kings; lobster, corn, rice, tortillas, beer and enough butter to keep someone on Lipitrol for years to come. We slept easy and awoke early.
Kevin and I took the inflatable boat out fishing with Alicio in the morning and scored 15 fish in just over an hour. We gutted the fish, gave half to Alicio, and took off back to our hovel of a mechanic shop in Guerrero Negro to get our brakes fixed once and for all. Arriving at El Chepiac’s, he and his cronies were already drunker than the 7th inning bleacher section at Dodger Stadium. Yelling at us with a smile on his face, he said the part was in and they would start working on the truck right away. Awesome… nothing like a group of inebriated grease monkeys fixing your brakes in a foreign country. Returning after a few hours of useless internet time, El Chepiac dealt us some bad news. The wrong part came for our brakes and we would have to wait 3 more days for the next part. Being that our truck was disassembled in this madman’s lot, we told him to order the new part and asked him if we could make his mechanic’s yard a motel and sleep there for the next few days. Screaming, he began swearing and finally said “Si, Si, Si. Venga Gringos. Hotel Chepe esta abierto”.
The next three days were like a bad version of the movie Groundhog’s Day, but instead of Bill Murray, we had Bill Boyd. Every morning, El Chepiac would walk into the auto yard (also our hotel at the moment) early in the AM and begin banging on our camper and would yell “pinche gringos” wake up. He would peak his head inside our tent, yell like a maniac, laugh aloud, and would jokingly yell every Spanish expletive I had ever heard of. Laughing with him, we would rise like white zombies out of the auto yard into the dusty streets of Guerrero Negro. El Chepiac and his lackeys would start their day working hard, but drinking harder. We would leave Hotel Chepiac for breakfast at a diner that showed C grade American movies in Spanish and served up a mean short stack of pancakes with tocino (bacon). The real draw to the place was not just the pancakes or entertaining movies, but the fact that they had a bathroom with a toilet seat, a small luxury we had taken for granted early in the trip.
The three days in Guerrero Negro were spent reading, logging internet time, interacting with the locals, playing pool and trying (sometimes in vain) to stay out of trouble. Bill, Kevin and I played soccer in the town soccer match (futbol rapido) on Sunday. Everyone had a great time and Bill pretty much dominated the town single handedly. The kids in the town loved us and sent us home patting our backs and asking us to stay another week. Then Eric scored us 50 gallons of vegetable oil from a guy who ran a taco truck. We filtered the Veg into our sedentary truck in Chepiac’s auto yard and taught some people about our Veg Oil System. The correct brake part finally arrived on Tuesday, September 11. Chepiac told us to buy him a 12 pack before he would start on our truck. We hardnosed him and agreed to buy him and his crew beer when they finished the job. Incentivised and thirsty, El Chepe had our truck fixed and running within 2 hours.
We scored him some cerveza and cash for his help and three days of madness and went to the local welder for some much needed strengthening on our surf racks. The welder, named BUCHO, turned out to be a great guy. He had a dog that was a hermaphrodite and was very proud of IT. He took a great deal of time showing us what a hermaphroditic dog looked like… I will leave it at that. He welded supports for our board rack and spare tire mount. We paid him with some tools we were not using and hit the road just before dark. Bill drove us partway to La Paz that evening. We holed up in a hotel parking lot in Santa Rosalia and took a swim in their pool while security was sound asleep. The next AM we were gone before sunup in an attempt to escape the omnipresent heat. By 3:30 PM on September 12 (Happy B-Day Taylor), we were enjoying phenomenal ice cream in an oasis called
La Paz in the southern part of Baja. We found a spot on the beach to camp and went for a refreshing dip in the Sea of Cortez before bed.
Waking up with sand fleas in our hair, Bill and Eric suggested ice cream for breakfast. Smiling, we rushed into town, grabbed ice creams and got back to the port just in time to get our truck on the ferry from La Paz to Topolobampo, in Mainland Mexico. We parked the rig on the boat and found a nice corner on the boat to hole up for the next 9 hours. As I watch the rowdy truck drivers getting belligerantly drunk before we have even left port, I know inside my head that things are going to get worse on this boat ride before they get better.
viter
Adventurer
another update from mainland Mexico:
Kevin Broderick, signing in…The ferry ride across the Sea of Cortez was interesting to say the least. Here’s the deal, the ferry is primarily used by truckers with nothing to do for the 9 hour ferry ride; so in the true Mexican trucker tradition, they blast the music and drink excessively. Seeing as how the music was way too loud to allow us to carry a conversation within our little nook, we proceeded to watch these future engineers proceed to build pyramids out of their slain beer cans… and get WASTED!!! Rolling blackouts were a common theme. During the ride, we occupied our time watching flying fish go anywhere from 50 to 100 yards out of the water. We also struck up a 4 hour game of Liar’s Dice (LD) and soon had two Aussies (Gabe & Ash) and an English chick with surprisingly perfect teeth playing with us.
As we unloaded the ferry around 10 PM the question that had been shooting through our minds all evening was answered; if these guys are wasted, who drives their trucks once the ferry disembarks at port? Well to them this did not seem to be an issue, as they all climbed in their rigs and barreled out of the parking lot. Sean & Eric, who were down on the loading docs with these inebriated maniacs saw a truck crash within 5 minutes of the gates opening. We waited a few minutes to give these locos a head start.
Our new Aussie friends, Gabe and Ashley, purchased an around the world ticket, and as a part of it, they bought a truck and camper in LA, and were driving through Mexico. They decided to caravan with us to our first spot in Mainland Mex called Marmol, which is just north of Mazatlan and is said to have some great breaks. As we exited the lot we weren’t sure where to go, and found ourselves lost in the barrio within 5 short minutes. Consulting our map for some guidance, we hopped back on the road with the Aussies in tow. Within 1 mile, flashing lights appeared behind us. Realizing it was not a UFO, and only a federale (Mexican Police), we pulled over next to a swamp rife with mosquitoes.
Two rules to driving in Mexico: 1. Never drive at night (broken) 2. Never stop for anyone (broken). We pull onto the tiny shoulder as drunken truckers blast by us. Being next to the quagmire, we quickly find out the bugs are attracted to our headlights. The cop has found something bogus to pull us over for, and Sean and Eric are arguing with the cop, all the while fighting off the incessant swarms of biting bugs. The cop gives us our options: Pay $240 USD to get back on the road, or sleep on the side of the road next to the swamp and die from blood loss as the bugs devour us. The first two options just were not feasible for Feral Green, so we did what we do best, argue, negotiate and haggle. As Sean threw out his best ninja moves battling the bugs, he and Eric managed to talk the dirty cop down to $47… a great deal to get us back on the road and out of the swamp. We pulled away, a little dizzy from the bug bites and got back on the road. The Aussies to our surprise, had driven ahead, and pulled over on the side of the road to wait for us. Within the first 10 minutes of caravanning together, we had been pulled over, and gotten them lost… they are a trusting pair! Unfortunately, a little further down the road, they pulled off in a truck stop to sleep the rest of the night.
Eric somehow managed to drive us until 4 in the morning to our destination city. I don’t know how, I was asleep, only awoken to us being ushered in reverse out of the tollbooth lane as we had overshot the exit (which was an unmarked dirt road) to Marmol. Although expensive, the toll roads were the only way to go for safely driving at night. We parked it for the night in front of a small school, and set up camp for the night/ morning. We awoke to the sound of little kids yelling and the shuffle of small feet outside the camper. Unbeknownst to us, we had pretty much camped in the school. Awkwardly arising, we gave the kids a “Buenos Dias” and headed towards the beach. After a little help from the locals, we tracked down the surf break at the mouth of a river that was also used as a fish camp. We parked and locked the truck and made our way out to the breaks. After a good day of surfing Sean and I took out the crab trap, and some fishing gear to try and score some dinner while Guillermo and Hongo de la Gente (Eric) set up a nice camp of hammocks and sun shade. The fishing trip did not go smoothly by any one’s definition. In an attempt to check out a rocky beach we managed to nearly sink the boat, and kill ourselves. Let’s just say that Sean paid the price for choosing not to wear shoes on this little lark. Getting off the beach turned out to be no easier than getting in. After starting the motor, we spent a solid 20 minutes using our scupper to scoop out 4 inches of water from our inflatable boat. We decide to name ourselves Team Scupper International (patent pending) and headed back out to sea. We dropped our lobster trap and started fishing. After an uneventful hour, we decided to head in and wait for the cooler hours of the evening to try again. We headed in and couldn’t make it back up the river due to the low tide, so we buried a stick, tied up the boat and left it on the beach until the tide came up. The camp smelled like the outhouse door on a tuna boat and had more bugs than the Midwest. We decided it was time for us to move on. Sean and I now had the task of retrieving our homemade lobster “Trap” (patent pending). This task was not easy… for the sake of our mothers’ health, I will leave it at that…
We packed up camp, and headed for Mazatlan to celebrate the Mexican Independence Day.
_____________________________________________________
somebody should move this thread to expeditions in progress
Kevin Broderick, signing in…The ferry ride across the Sea of Cortez was interesting to say the least. Here’s the deal, the ferry is primarily used by truckers with nothing to do for the 9 hour ferry ride; so in the true Mexican trucker tradition, they blast the music and drink excessively. Seeing as how the music was way too loud to allow us to carry a conversation within our little nook, we proceeded to watch these future engineers proceed to build pyramids out of their slain beer cans… and get WASTED!!! Rolling blackouts were a common theme. During the ride, we occupied our time watching flying fish go anywhere from 50 to 100 yards out of the water. We also struck up a 4 hour game of Liar’s Dice (LD) and soon had two Aussies (Gabe & Ash) and an English chick with surprisingly perfect teeth playing with us.
As we unloaded the ferry around 10 PM the question that had been shooting through our minds all evening was answered; if these guys are wasted, who drives their trucks once the ferry disembarks at port? Well to them this did not seem to be an issue, as they all climbed in their rigs and barreled out of the parking lot. Sean & Eric, who were down on the loading docs with these inebriated maniacs saw a truck crash within 5 minutes of the gates opening. We waited a few minutes to give these locos a head start.
Our new Aussie friends, Gabe and Ashley, purchased an around the world ticket, and as a part of it, they bought a truck and camper in LA, and were driving through Mexico. They decided to caravan with us to our first spot in Mainland Mex called Marmol, which is just north of Mazatlan and is said to have some great breaks. As we exited the lot we weren’t sure where to go, and found ourselves lost in the barrio within 5 short minutes. Consulting our map for some guidance, we hopped back on the road with the Aussies in tow. Within 1 mile, flashing lights appeared behind us. Realizing it was not a UFO, and only a federale (Mexican Police), we pulled over next to a swamp rife with mosquitoes.
Two rules to driving in Mexico: 1. Never drive at night (broken) 2. Never stop for anyone (broken). We pull onto the tiny shoulder as drunken truckers blast by us. Being next to the quagmire, we quickly find out the bugs are attracted to our headlights. The cop has found something bogus to pull us over for, and Sean and Eric are arguing with the cop, all the while fighting off the incessant swarms of biting bugs. The cop gives us our options: Pay $240 USD to get back on the road, or sleep on the side of the road next to the swamp and die from blood loss as the bugs devour us. The first two options just were not feasible for Feral Green, so we did what we do best, argue, negotiate and haggle. As Sean threw out his best ninja moves battling the bugs, he and Eric managed to talk the dirty cop down to $47… a great deal to get us back on the road and out of the swamp. We pulled away, a little dizzy from the bug bites and got back on the road. The Aussies to our surprise, had driven ahead, and pulled over on the side of the road to wait for us. Within the first 10 minutes of caravanning together, we had been pulled over, and gotten them lost… they are a trusting pair! Unfortunately, a little further down the road, they pulled off in a truck stop to sleep the rest of the night.
Eric somehow managed to drive us until 4 in the morning to our destination city. I don’t know how, I was asleep, only awoken to us being ushered in reverse out of the tollbooth lane as we had overshot the exit (which was an unmarked dirt road) to Marmol. Although expensive, the toll roads were the only way to go for safely driving at night. We parked it for the night in front of a small school, and set up camp for the night/ morning. We awoke to the sound of little kids yelling and the shuffle of small feet outside the camper. Unbeknownst to us, we had pretty much camped in the school. Awkwardly arising, we gave the kids a “Buenos Dias” and headed towards the beach. After a little help from the locals, we tracked down the surf break at the mouth of a river that was also used as a fish camp. We parked and locked the truck and made our way out to the breaks. After a good day of surfing Sean and I took out the crab trap, and some fishing gear to try and score some dinner while Guillermo and Hongo de la Gente (Eric) set up a nice camp of hammocks and sun shade. The fishing trip did not go smoothly by any one’s definition. In an attempt to check out a rocky beach we managed to nearly sink the boat, and kill ourselves. Let’s just say that Sean paid the price for choosing not to wear shoes on this little lark. Getting off the beach turned out to be no easier than getting in. After starting the motor, we spent a solid 20 minutes using our scupper to scoop out 4 inches of water from our inflatable boat. We decide to name ourselves Team Scupper International (patent pending) and headed back out to sea. We dropped our lobster trap and started fishing. After an uneventful hour, we decided to head in and wait for the cooler hours of the evening to try again. We headed in and couldn’t make it back up the river due to the low tide, so we buried a stick, tied up the boat and left it on the beach until the tide came up. The camp smelled like the outhouse door on a tuna boat and had more bugs than the Midwest. We decided it was time for us to move on. Sean and I now had the task of retrieving our homemade lobster “Trap” (patent pending). This task was not easy… for the sake of our mothers’ health, I will leave it at that…
We packed up camp, and headed for Mazatlan to celebrate the Mexican Independence Day.
_____________________________________________________
somebody should move this thread to expeditions in progress
viter
Adventurer
2 more updates - http://www.feralgreen.com/feralblog/
feralgreen
New member
Feral Green Expedition Rig For Sale
As our expedition will be winding up in March we are going to be selling the vehicle (2000 Ford F350 4 Door Crew Cab, 7.3L V8 Diesel/Vegetable Oil, Long Bed Pick up with Six-Pac cabover camper) from Santiago, Chile. For more information see the ad posted on the link below.
(http://www.feralgreen.com/feralblog/?p=31)
Saludos....
As our expedition will be winding up in March we are going to be selling the vehicle (2000 Ford F350 4 Door Crew Cab, 7.3L V8 Diesel/Vegetable Oil, Long Bed Pick up with Six-Pac cabover camper) from Santiago, Chile. For more information see the ad posted on the link below.
(http://www.feralgreen.com/feralblog/?p=31)
Saludos....
Scott Brady
Founder
What happened to the trip? It does not look like you made it to SA...
Anything you can pass on the members? Pearls of wisdom from your experience?
Anything you can pass on the members? Pearls of wisdom from your experience?
In SA already
The blog says the truck was shipped to Colombia in January. The team's current location is unclear. One page says their current location is in Ecuador, while the "for sale" page says they drove to Santiago, Chile. Maybe that's their destination by the time the trip ends.
Chip Haven
The blog says the truck was shipped to Colombia in January. The team's current location is unclear. One page says their current location is in Ecuador, while the "for sale" page says they drove to Santiago, Chile. Maybe that's their destination by the time the trip ends.
Chip Haven
feralgreen
New member
Current Location
We are currently in Pacasmayo, Peru surfing the longest left hand waves in the world (on its day that is). We have had a couple instances of theft in Peru - 6 surfboards in Mancora and the face of our stereo (only the face not the carcass). We had just taken photos of the truck and had mistakenly left the faceplate on. Other than these two instances we only had one other break in and it was in Alajuela, Costa Rica. The locks on Ford pickups are surprisingly easy to jimmy with just a screw driver punching through the lock hole.
We will end the trip in Chile and have a trove of advice that we can share regarding the entire process.
Saludos. Eric
We are currently in Pacasmayo, Peru surfing the longest left hand waves in the world (on its day that is). We have had a couple instances of theft in Peru - 6 surfboards in Mancora and the face of our stereo (only the face not the carcass). We had just taken photos of the truck and had mistakenly left the faceplate on. Other than these two instances we only had one other break in and it was in Alajuela, Costa Rica. The locks on Ford pickups are surprisingly easy to jimmy with just a screw driver punching through the lock hole.
We will end the trip in Chile and have a trove of advice that we can share regarding the entire process.
Saludos. Eric