Great Balls of Fur Mototaxi-Junket

Oh to be a dreamer, a traveller, an explorer of far-flung untouched corners of this delightfully mysterious green and blue orb on which we go about our daily business. There would be nothing so satisfying as donning fur and, with best British resolve, reaching out to lost civilisations and introducing them to the delights of a postprandial gin and tonic. But where and when, in this modern world of pre-packaged, last-minute.com sleasyjet holidays can such swashbuckling adventure be found? The answer lies with a little group of well-travelled, somewhat unhinged individuals known as The Adventurists. Their special blend of minimal organisation and 'man up and cope' attitude to globetrotting attracts only the most foolhardy...or the clinically insane.

And so we find the Great Balls of Fur embarking on their 3rd outing. More ridiculous and less organised than ever before. The team sees some old faces welcoming some new idiots to take on South America in a vehicle that one can only describe as hopelessly inadequate for the task. This mantra could probably be applied to many of the Furballers as well. The intention to ride a mototaxi from Cusco, Peru, across the Andes down the road of death, through the rainforest, across the Bolivian salt flats before finally (and hopefully) trundling into Asuncion, Paraguay, must surely be up there with Climbing Everest on a Tiger or Trekking to the South Pole in flip flops with only a parrot and a crate of Stella for company. Well, perhaps we are overegging it slightly but it is more dangerous than a lot of things, like jam or goldfish. We leave you to judge us accordingly but ask that you treat us gently... and give us loads of money for a really rather nice charity. Follow our adventures on this site and laugh hysterically at the sheer hopelessness of your friends and relatives tying to fix a motorbike at 15,000ft with only a banana and a mess tin.

Toodles for now. xx

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Posted : 17/08/2010

The final day. Cleaned up but seriously hungover, we struggled through breakfast and began the journey home. The taxis were dropped off at the compound guarded by a guy with a pump action shotgun and particularly massive dog and the remaining furballs headed off on their separate routes back to the ...

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