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Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} Lois on the Loose by Lois Pryce Lois on the Loose by Lois Pryce. I’m usually out and about somewhere, giving talks about my adventures – see News and Events for upcoming dates. I f you would like to book me to speak at your event please email me at [email protected]. ABOUT MY PRESENTATIONS. I give talks to all types of organisations around the world, from businesses and schools to book festivals and bike clubs. Previous clients and events include The Royal Geographical Society, The Ministry of Defence, TEDx Patras, Bosch, Motorola, The Edinburgh Book Festival, Cheltenham Book Festival, Telegraph Outdoor Show, SOAS, The Royal Society for Asian Affairs, Dubai Traveller’s Festival, RPS Energy, The Institute of Advanced Motorists and The British Police Motoring Club. Whether you’re looking to motivate your employees with a true-life tale of achieving your dreams, or seeking an example of real-life girl power to spur on your pupils, or you’re simply after some unique after-dinner yarns, my presentations can be tailored to your specific requirements, and no group is too large or too small. My talks are informal, entertaining and honest, and feature photography and film from my journeys and a fabulous musical soundtrack! Read a review of a talk I gave at the Royal Geographical Society in London. "Inspirational and a lot of fun too!" Anne-Marie Francis, Ministry of Defence. "The way Lois delivers her presentations and holds the audience’s attention is excellent and I guarantee you could listen to her many times and never tire of it!" Simon Elkins, Institute of Advanced Motorcyclists. "Lois Pryce tells a story that will amaze and inspire. Tales of her adventures kept our students captivated throughout and gave a message that was loud and clear; don’t procrastinate, go and do what you want and you too can achieve whatever you set your mind to - the perfect message for a Sixth Form audience." Rowan Macneary, Sherborne Girls School. "Lois entertained and educated each of us with vivid and humorous descriptions that just made us listen with envy and respect." Dave Lewis, Thatcham Research Centre. Lois on the Loose by Lois Pryce. After much weighing up of the options, I decided to use the Yamaha XT225 Serow for my Americas ride. It is a very simple, sturdy but light trail bike with a 4 stroke, single cylinder, air cooled engine. The 31″ seat height is reassuringly low for the shorter legged rider and the fuel economy is impressive with a range of around 130 miles from the 8 litre tank. The Serow’s size, weight and nimble qualities mean it really is the go anywhere bike. You just have to get used to the fact that your top cruising speed will be around 55mph, but who wants to be in a hurry on the road? There were just a few additions and of course, a luggage system required to turn the Serow from a sprightly trail bike into the mini-expedition machine that I needed. Enlisting the invaluable experience and practical skills of twice-round-the-world motorcyclists, Austin and Gerald Vince of the Mondo Enduro and Terra Circa teams, the following luggage carrying mods were made to the Serow: For my main luggage compartment a metal army ammo box (£6 from army surplus shops) was bolted to the rear rack. Metal bars were then bolted to each side of the box to carry two soft pannier bags (borrowed from my bicycle). The end of the rear rack extends far enough behind the box to carry my tent and sleeping mat. A home made metal rack was mounted above the headlight to accommodate lightweight items such as my sleeping bag. Small pannier style bags can be attached to each side of the rack to carry items that I will need to access easily, such as camera, maps, food and water. To store my tools a small metal box (also from the army surplus shop) was bolted onto the frame using the pillion foot peg mountings to keep the weight low down. In retrospect, this luggage set-up was too heavy and the weight too high up, which caused some issues with the handling, particularly off-road. By the time I set off on my Africa trip three years later, I had perfected the art of carrying gear on a small trail bike. The most important trick is, of course, to travel light! Lois on the Loose by Lois Pryce. Chiapas, Mexico, where my fictitious husband saves the day… My route took me down the West Coast of the USA to California, from where I would cross into Mexico at the notorious border town of Tijuana, before striking out for Central and South America. As far as I was concerned this was a fine plan, but not everyone shared my enthusiasm – almost every American I met bombarded me with horror stories of death, drugs and violence south of the border. ‘You’ll get robbed!’ ‘Murdered!’ ‘Or worse!’ they exclaimed, horrified at my travel plans. Due to this catalogue of doom, I entered Mexico terrified, expecting gun-toting bandits and corrupt policemen to jump out from behind every cactus, but it didn’t take me long to realise that the scare stories were based on little, if no fact. Riding down Baja was a blast and the rest of Mexico was turning out to be a breeze (except for the small problem of not bring able to speak Spanish). So when the policeman flagged me down, I wasn’t too worried. I’d had a couple of brushes with the Mexican bobbies, and they hadn’t roughed me up, squeezed a bribe out of me or attempted anything that could be considered in the slightest bit improper. In fact, one member of the force had even bought me breakfast, finally putting to rest the image of the corrupt, greasy-palmed policia. This latest member of the constabulary was no different; he just wanted to impart some important information to me about the road ahead. Unfortunately, I had no idea what he was talking about. But he spoke in Spanish to me anyway, gesturing to get his message across, pointing in the direction I was heading, shaking his head and waving his gloved hands in a manner that suggested there was trouble looming. I nodded, pretending I understood, thanked him profusely and carried on. Whatever he’d been trying to tell me, I figured it couldn’t be that serious. After a while I wondered if I’d got the wrong end of the stick; there didn’t seem to be anything on this road to hinder my journey. What could he have meant? I rode for a mile or so along the empty two-lane highway, passing a few wizened old men ambling along on their donkeys and a farmer herding an unruly bunch of cows. But after a couple of miles I put the whole thing down to a case of miscommunication and forgot all about it.Mexico Landscape. That was, until I came round a bend to discover the tail-end of a lengthy traffic jam. Oh! So this is what he meant. There must be road-works going on I guessed, and with the motorcycle proving itself as the finest form of transport, I whizzed up the side of the mile-long queue to the front, where to my utmost surprise, I found not the gang of swarthy, pickaxe-swinging workmen that I had envisaged, but instead, a mob of rowdy protestors, who, using a combination of themselves, rocks, tree trunks, branches, burnt-out cars and blazing bonfires, had brought the Pan- American Highway to a grinding halt. Despite the impassioned activity of the demonstrators, the roadblock had something of a fiesta atmosphere, with a few entrepreneurial types selling barbecued corn and overpriced cans of Coke to their captive market. The protestors were chanting and shouting, some of them had linked arms, creating a human barricade across the road. The entire blockade was a family affair with everyone out in force, from granny and granddad down to babies slung on their mother’s backs. But although the atmosphere seemed reasonably good-natured, the message was coming across loud and clear: NOBODY’S GOING ANYWHERE. In typical laidback fashion, none of the drivers of the trucks and cars seemed to object to the hold up; it was just another day in Mexico. Some of the truckers were taking the opportunity to have a nap in their cabs, while others strolled up and down the queue, chatting to each other. Families sat outside their cars, enjoying an impromptu picnic, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. As I pulled up to the frontline, the noisy crowd waved their arms at me, shouting ‘NO PASAR! NO PASAR!’ and glaring angrily. From the centre of the throng, their leader appeared, a man with twinkling eyes and a face that had seen it all, brown and lined from years of outdoor toil and strenuous roadblock organisation. I had to admire his tenacity. ‘Que pasa’ I asked him. What’s happening? The jeers of the crowd fell to an excitable hum when I spoke, all eyes turning to their head honcho, as he addressed the foreign muchacha on a motorcycle. Having made my opening gambit in Spanish, the leader understandably assumed I could speak his lingo and launched into what I guessed to be a stirring, rebel-rousing piece of agitprop, if the raised fists and whooping cries of his supporters were anything to go by.

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