Bordering on the ridiculous!!!

Leaving Panajachel was easy we had grown tired of the place and were desperate to get moving after such a long time off the bike, we had plotted our route to avoid the road that runs along the edge of the lake as everyone warned us of robberies and hold ups that still occurred in this area. True to form I missed the turnoff  and before we knew it we were on the wrong road, which was the road we shouldn't have been on, which was also the road where all the robberies had taken place.....Dont say anything just keep riding, the views from around the edge of the lake were spectacular but I wasn't stopping for sightseeing this photo was taken on the move.

 

The run round the lake eventually took us back to the main road and relative safety, we had avoided being held up or robbed and the most hazardous part of the ride was crossing the shit poor attempt to repair a washed out bridge.

"There doesn't appear to be a road on the other side" (Shut up and ride you wuss!)

A bit further down the road we came across the pick up truck that held the record for the most people crammed on board, we didn't have time to count the heads as we passed but on closer inspection I think there's around twenty!

What happens if the bloke in the middle wants to get off at the next stop??

The usual market day traffic in rural Guatemala.

We arrived at the border with El Salvador around one o'clock and were suprised by the lack of traffic, we needed to use the services of money changers to get rid of our unspent Guatemalan Quetzals and convert them into US dollars which have been adopted by El Salvador. We ended up aquiring the services of Raul one of the local tramitadores or helpers, for a few dollars they will run around and hopefully save you some time in what always turns out to be a bloody administrative nightmare, they know where to go and what to do as often the buildings are not readily identifiable and of course there's the language problem!

Here we are with Raul in front peddling like stink through 'no mans land'

Getting out of Guatemala was fairly straightforward and with only a slight delay in getting the VIN numbers checked at the El Salvador side we were through in a couple of hours. As always it was  hot and humid and whilst Joe and I took care of the paperwork Sue and Lynn tried to ignore the persistant beggars that frequent the borders in the hope of picking up loose change.

Border chaos and the usual standing around.

Before we left Raul he offered to ring a colleague at the Honduran border and arrange for him to meet us in a couple of days time, this would hopefully save us some time at what was supposed to be the most time consuming crossing in Central America.

The first thing that you notice on entering El Salvador is the general improvement in living standards, instead of straw huts at the side of the road most buildings are constructed of more substantial material, wood, concrete block, tin and there is the occasional street lighting. We found accommodation that evening at a swanky golf resort on the Pacific coast (now if only I could get hold of a set of clubs!)

El salvador coastline.

BOB tucked in for the night and 'Zuki' still wearing a dress.

Pacific sunset.

"Crabs Sir"

As I pointed out on the last blog entry,  we were rushing to get through El Salvador and into Honduras before the Day of the Dead which was in 3 days time, this was just in case everybody at the border had a dose of can't be arsed after the night before. Politically Honduras is in turmoil at the moment and whilst people we had spoken to had not given us cause for concern, there were reports that if the situation wasn't resolved shortly then neighbouring countries would consider closing their borders and as such the best plan of attack for us was to get through in as short a time as possible.

Here's another reason not to hang around in Honduras or El Salvador for that matter, I'm sure nobody wants to take pot shots at tourists on motorcycles we just don't want to get hit by the odd ricochet!

 If we could get through the El Salvador-Honduras border in under four hours there would be a chance that we could drive across Honduras and out the other side in one day (as long as we could reduce the number of times we got stopped by the Military or Police)

The gap between the barriers was just too narrow for the panniers.

The next day involved a run along the pacific coast road which was supposed to rival highway 1 in California. The road itself is probably a better ride but the ocean scenery is obscured by the jungle and only occasionally  would you get a glimpse of the coast, also, unlike California there is no provision made for people to stop and take photos. The closest town of any size to the Honduran border was San Miguel which is about 50 miles from the border town of El Amatillo so we chickened out of finding somewhere closer and cheaper and booked in to the Comfort Inn. The good thing about hotel chains is there is always hot water, internet access and breakfast, Oh yes, and a guy with a pump action shotgun to watch over BOB.

Bike security.....a 3 quid tip and it's cheaper than a bike lock and a lot more impressive!

We needed to get to the border before the tour buses so we got up at 5:15 and were out of town at just gone 6:00, On the way to the border we met Phil from the US who was heading as far a Nicaragua, he had managed to get this far with only photocopies of his important documents and it hadn't cost him a penny (this was about to change).

"No Phil, you don't need the original documents, in fact if you've got some coloured crayons you can do without your passport"!!

When we arrived at El Amatillo, Raul's 'cousin' Ronnie was waiting for us and even with Phil in tow we were through the El Salvador side in under one hour. This looked all too easy, and true to form the Honduran bureaucratic monster was about to bite back.

The Gates of Hell

The first indication we got that things were not going well was when we parked the bikes next to some offices and there was a portable generator running outside....Apparently power cuts are a regular occurrence and just another hindrance to the process of getting through the border, so take a deep breath, hand your documents to Ronnie and relax. Three and a half hours later.............I cannot bring myself to recall the full details of why it all took so long, I break out in a cold sweat at the thought of us sitting there next to a droning fucking generator, sweating buckets, forced to eat greasy chicken while these inept morons lord about in their air conditioned office. I'm convinced that the Border Officials, the Police, the Customs and the helpers are all in league with each other and contrive to extort as much money as possible out of decent folks like us. 

BASTARDS!! (big letters in bold just to show how much I hate these people).

"Is there somewhere I could buy a cheap RPG please".

If these were dogs someone would throw a bucket of water over them!

Now here's a thing, why do people smile for the camera even when they're really pissed off?

The most annoying part of the whole thing was Phil, who had tagged along and used Ronnie was out of the place 45 minutes before us, however, his lack of original documents cost him the best part of 100 dollars. Once through the border we picked up the pace on probably the best road in Central America, as the Pan American highway runs through the South of the country it avoids the highlands and the twisting mountain roads that normally double the riding time. At this time we knew we could get over the border into Nicaragua, it was just a question of how far, the horror stories of corrupt Honduran Police ripping off travelers meant I was constantly aware of checkpoints and always ready to slip into my Stupid tourist, very very sorry mode! We were stopped a few times after the border but only to check documents and the procedure was always the same for me (Don't try this at home please)

10 point plan for checkpoints: (Police or Traffic Cops)

1) Take off the helmet or lift visor

2) Remove sunglasses to show sincere eye contact

3) Smile

4) Shake hands

5) Offer greeting in feeble attempt at Spanish

6) Smile again

7) Fumble with reams of paperwork from every country but the one you're travelling through

8) Apologise badly in Spanish

9) Mention Ronaldo, David Beckham, Chelsea or some other soccer related trivia

10) Be very grateful for their time, bowing humbly as you fire up the bike and ride off into the sunset

10 point plan for checkpoints: (Military)

This is exactly the same as above but after step 2, look suitably impressed at the soldiers uniform/weapons!

You can at this point offer to take their photograph as a souvenir but this involves the risk of being shot (play this one by ear)

We arrived at the Hon/Nic border just in time to catch Phil checking out the bike at Customs so we jumped the queue and got all three bikes done at the same time. It's amazing the 200 miles across country the administration process is so different, the girl behind the counter did all the paperwork and came out and checked the bikes all within 30 minutes. After picking up the obligatory third party insurance we were into Nicaragua in just over an hour.

Now there's something to smile about.

Our main destination in Nicaragua was Granada on the shores of Lake Nicaragua but that was another days ride and the priority of today was to find somewhere to sleep before nightfall. As we have travelled South the days have got progressively shorter, in Alaska it never got dark and now in Central America the sun sets completely around 6pm. We pulled in at the first decent looking hotel only to find they were preparing the place for a Halloween party, it turned out the whole town was converging on the restaurant that evening but  by this time it was dark so we dug out the ear plugs and settled in for the night. Chinandega is one of those 'one horse' towns dotted along the main highway that appears to serve no function other than providing services for passing traffic, there  was only one resaurant in town and by now it was covered in plastic pumpkins and cobwebs and resembled a film set from a cheap horror movie. As luck would have it the guy running the restaurant provided a slap up meal in our room and invited us to join the party later if we were up for it........we were'nt!
Even with earplugs I was awoken around 4:30am by the most horrendous effort at karaoke you could imagine, by this time they had a portable microphone outside and speakers that were capable of being heard on the next continent. These people are not musical, not in the slightest! their attempts to follow a bouncing ball on top of lyrics on a screen was about as melodic as someone having their teeth pulled without anaesthetic. The young ones would scream into the microphone and the old folks would try and croon to some Latin American ballad and miss every note except bum ones. In the morning we hurridly packed up and headed out of Dodge but not before we were accosted by a turkey with attitude. As we were loading the bikes there were some female turkeys in the parking area and this male bird got all protective, at one time it had Sue cornered in a corridor and made attempts to bully Joe and I by puffing out his chest, ruffling his feathers and making stupid noises. I of course had had more than enough of stupid noises for one night so when it got within range I clattered it round the head with my riding glove! the turkey is a smart bird, it knows when to quit and the time to quit is when it's about to get the ugly appendage that looks like yer Grandad's scrotum knocked off it's neck!!

Roll on Thanksgiving you ugly old git!

Leaving Chinandega we stopped for breakfast at a service station and got chatting to the locals, on a bike you are automatically more approachable and people will attempt to communicate with you even if it's clear to them you cannot understand them. I have now become attuned to the usual questions and can structure a half decent response, this time Jay spoke perfect English and offered some useful advice about Nicaragua.
We arrived in Managua en route to Granada just as the rain stopped by the time we rode through town the sun was out and all that was left of the rainstorm was the rainwater.

Granada was something of a disappointment, it was supposed to be the Nicaraguan equivalent of Antigua in Guatemala but turned out to be dirty and run down. The beggars were more aggressive and instead of holding out their hands for whatever they could get they would shout at you GIMME A DOLLAR! GIMME A DOLLAR!

Lake Nicaragua is a muddy brown colour along its shoreline with Granada and whilst a trip to one of the islands would have given us a better picture of this inland sea we decided to head to the Pacific coast in readiness for the crossing into Costa Rica. On a good note the Police that we met in Nicaragua were civil and polite and not at all like the reports we had heard from other travelers.

Off street parking at the Hotel Colonial

More Pictures of Granada, Nicaragua

From Granada we headed South West to the Pacific again for some clean air and some warm waters, San Juan del Sur is a secluded resort which caters to backpackers and people like us. The bay is shallow and protected and there is always a flotilla of small boats tied up at anchor taking advantage of a number of good seafood restaurants that line the beach.

San Juan Del Sur beach.

See Sue try and stop the waves.

We had booked to stay at the Aventura Lodge, which was advertised as a jungle retreat, the reality was that it was surrounded by trees just off the road opposite the local cemetery!

Graves decorated for the Day of the Dead.

Jungle retreat My Arse!

The lodge was actually very nice, the rooms were tastefully decorated and there was a plunge pool which took the overflow from the tropical storms. The lodge was managed by a young couple, Dan from the UK and Kate from Oz and best of all it had parrots! bloody parrots! the novelty of a Spanish speaking parrot lasts about thirty seconds then I'm looking for my riding gloves!

This bird spoke better Spanish than we did.

Beautiful plumage

There was also a scarlet macaw which did nothing but squawk, unfortunately it belonged to Mike the owner and lived in a cage on his balcony so was always out of reach (sadly no birds were injured in the making of this blog)

Come on in the water's freezing.

We hung around for a couple of days and then made a run for the border with Costa Rica, at some point during the next day the bike and us will have covered 20,000 miles since arriving in Alaska. It's time to revise the trip mileage!

Here's a clever way of making a tyre last forever, when the tread wears down simply glue a strip of rubber round the tyre and 'hey presto' a racing slick!