Riding a bike comes with risks. But there a quite a few things you can do to mitigate that risk. I have half a dozen rules that I set myself that worked really well for the first 44,000kms of my trip. On the evening of the accident, I pretty much broke all of them except for the one about wearing all my safety gear. It would have been a lot worse without that one. Don’t leave late for a long ride. Don’t try and keep to a set arrival time. Don’t ride at dusk. Don’t try and beat the rain to my destination. Check every intersection regardless of if I have right of way. Don’t expect that other drivers have seen you. Don’t be distracted by other issues. Don’t be looking at directions on your phone when going through intersections. And most importantly, be extra, extra, careful in the last 10 minutes before arrival.

I was hit by a bus in a big intersection! I should have seen it earlier and rode accordingly. The hotel was in sight, and I had mentally but not physically arrived there. I still have strong visions of slamming into the car. It wasn’t pleasant. I went back and checked it out in the daylight. I’m obviously not the first to have an accident there. I don’t know how I didn’t end up hitting one of those bollards. I was in Porto Ordaz which is about 800kms north of where I entered the country from Brazil.

after the hospital I ended up staying at the Hotel Llovizna for about 10 days. It was about $50 a night which was good considering it was a nice place and I could pay with my visa card (which was really helpful). And I could eat inhouse and pay with visa. I was usually the only person in the restaurant. I spent a lot of time just laying on my bed feeling sorry for myself ,and annoyed, and reliving the crash. It wasn’t a great time. But I was also lucky I wasn’t more broken. My pannier had absorbed most of the impact and protected my lower body. My riding boots had protected my foot and ankle.

I also had to try and sort out the problems caused by losing my good phone in the accident.  I still had my old phone and tried to set it up but came across heaps of difficulties with sims and receiving codes. My biggest concern was that all my money was on an app on the lost phone and I couldn’t swap it to my old phone without the new phone itself. I also didn’t want to cancel the card or account as I needed the card to survive. It was finally resolved to a workable extent by my daughter having to go to the bank and to Telstra in Australia and sort it all out with me talking to them on the phone. It was a big relief when I finally accessed my account and all my money was still there. I had done all the find my phone stuff and cancelled what I could but someone had my phone but it was never turned on or connected to wifi.

It turned out that I could not leave Venezuela without my bike (it was stamped into my passport) and there was no way I would be able to ride it. We visited various people to try and get permission, but the only way to be able to do it was to find an import agent and import the bike, pay the taxes, find and rent a warehouse to store it, with security, then export it when I leave. We had to find another option.

The guy who spoke English and helped me on the night of the accident was so helpful. He drove me everywhere, took me in with his family. And by coincidence he also showed me how people drive in Porto Ordaz. Through red lights while texting on your phone. Often. And the vehicles have such dark tinting it is almost impossible to see the driver. After looking at all the options, we decided that the only way for me to leave was to road freight the bike to the city of San Cristobal near the Colombian border which was 1700kms away. And then I would fly there. And then take me and my bike across the border into Colombia where I could store the bike and then fly to my friends house in Mexico to get treatment and convalesce.

The other guy, who rescued my bike on the first night also helped with our plan. A few days after the accident he had shown up at the hotel and said if I gave him $40AUD he would buy me some new handlebars and replace them for me as the others were bent. He stripped down the old ones and replaced all the stuff again and cable tied and taped the damaged plastic panels so it was more rideable and would not accept any payment. He just wanted to help a fellow bike rider in trouble. So nice. He also rode the bike to the transport depot for me. I forgot to mention he also washed the bike, serviced it and prepped if for transporting it on the truck.

Like everything else in Venezuela, paying for stuff was a problem. It was $250AUD (which was great) for the transport of my bike and a box with all my riding gear, helmet, panniers and luggage. And take 5 days. But my visa wouldn’t work. Fortunately, I had enough $US to pay for that. Then I had to book flights. After a bit of mucking around we were able to do that with my visa which was great as I didn’t have a lot of dollars left and the rare to find ATMs didn’t like my cards.

We booked a flight to the Capital of Venezuela, Caracas, and I stayed there for two nights and then next day I flew to San Cristobal to hopefully meet up with my bike. I only had to fly with my hand luggage of about 7kgs. My English speaking friend who was organising all this, is a tour guide and he had a client who was leaving on a flight about the same time as me, so we went to the airport together which was great as he carried my bag for me. in the airport. He was a nice guy from Denmark, and we got on well. He ended up staying at the same hotel and we caught a taxi and went out for dinner. It was great for my mental health to be on the move and have someone with me. I even looked okay in the photo. But i was still sore.

The next day I had a bit of a look around the local area. I was still finding it a bit difficult to walk very far but a bit of walking pain was better than sitting in a hotel room feeling sorry for myself. I found some nice street food, especially a Japanese one and I saw a few sites. The hotel I had picked was nice enough but in a dodgy area and so they recommended not to be out after dark. I followed their advice. The following morning I splurged and took a taxi to the airport for the next leg of my flight.

It turns out that the San Cristobal Airport is nowhere near the city or the border but there was a man in a black van who knew who I was and picked me up and took me to a place in town. My web of WhatsApp helpers extended here as well. There was a local guy who set things up for me, but he was very apologetic that he would be out of town while I was there. But the place he sent me, and the people there, were amazing. No one spoke English and so I’m not sure if I have the story right, but it was a big sprawling house above a gully and was attached to a mechanical workshop. A couple of generations of family lived there. The house was like a museum with heaps of amazing things on display. And lots of bikes and amazing old cars.

I think they set it up as accommodation prior to covid and all the issues Venezuela has had and now there’s only the odd tourist like me. They seemed happy to have me there and the older lady (my age) was very patient with my Spanish. The next generation down also had set up a small restaurant and bar to make a few extra dollars in these tough times. It was a cool man cave sort of place. Although they wanted to share their meagre meal with me I said I would buy something from their restaurant which was really just as awkward as it wasn’t open that night. But I felt cared for and safe.

Next day was a bit confusing. We had to go to the freight centre to get the bike and my gear. We went there in a cool old car and after a brief discussion and a phone call and inspection, I was allowed take the bike. It had all arrived intact and the son or grandson drove it back to the workshop.

From there we went back to the house and I packed everthing I could into a rideable form. I had snapped a few plastic buckles with the impact of the collision and so I just cable tied them together. Not long after someone turned up to ride my bike to the border and a private taxi turned up for me. It was more than an hour to get there and we had to stop and get a couple of coke bottles of fuel. It was strange to follow my bike and not be on it. The young guy said that it was a lovely bike to ride. I had no idea what would happen when we got to the border. When we arrived I had to do all the paperwork to get me and the bike out of the country but then we left the border and returned back into Venezuela and drove several kilometres north to another border. Apparently, this small quiet border was more lax and easy to cross back and forwards if you are a Venezuelan without a passport. But you can’t do vehicles or foreign stuff like me there. I just sat quietly in my seat trying to look local as we drove through.

It was no problem exiting and then I had to check in on the Colombian side. It was easy. And the best part was that because my bike is Colombian it didn’t have to do all the temporary import stuff I normally have to do at borders. From there we drove to yet another contact from the WhatsApp group. It was a motorbike workshop, and he was going to look after my bike and fix a few things, ready for my return. The owner wasn’t there but we left the bike with one of the guys and then the rider jumped in the taxi with us and we all went to the airport so I could book a flight out.

There was a plane leaving to the capital, Bogota in 1 hour but they didn’t take cards. I then had trouble with the airport ATMs but eventually got out the $200AUD over 4 withdrawals and $40AUD of ATM fees. I had no idea how much the guys who got me there wanted. The young guy only asked me for 20 bucks so I gave him $40. The taxi driver was more organised and wanted $130 and I gave him $150AUD. I thanked them both and basically walked straight on to the plane and was off to Bogota.

Bogota airport was really busy. I wanted the next possible flight to Puerto Vallarta in Mexico and I thought it would be a simple case of finding an airline desk and buying one. No such luck. I was feeling tired and sore but had to then try and sort some wifi so I could book a flight online. My mate in Mexico was also trying to help me do it. And the expensive wifi that I was logged into kept crashing.

It was several hours and two flights but I managed to book them eventually and drag myself onto the plane. I only had a couple of painkillers left and I was rationing them out. After a two hour layover in Mexico City I made it to Puerto Vallarta and the welcoming face of my mate at the airport. It was an ordeal but I was so happy to be there. Hopefully it wouldn’t be for too long.