America Central:

From America Central

Leaving Mexico we’d really hoped to stop hitting “topes”, or speedbumps. What we found going into Guatemala was that indeed there are topes, only now the signs for them are fewer and farther in between. Couple that with a nighttime arrival and the electricity being out in the bordertown, and you’ll get the picture of a rough arrival. We pull off to a gas station to get a map since the border was all out, and find that here the gas stations have armed guards with shotguns. They don’t have maps at the gas stations, but it really doesn’t matter because there’s hardly any road signs anyway, and nobody knows how to give directions.

From America Central

We ride most of the way across Antigua to find Mateo had left his wallet at the first gas station near the border. I get a shot of him going back with an active volcano in the background, and try to catch up until I realize I’d made at least one wrong turn, and two hours later I’m in the mountains looking at beautiful landscapes and women dressed in colorful homemade clothing.

From America Central

I take a step back and decide that Matt will probably follow the same logic, which is that he’d have seen me on the road and therefore would be better off going on to Antigua instead of waiting around for me near the border. On the way I stop for a quick lunch… I really like the mandarin limes here.

From America Central

I get to Antigua at dusk, and its really crowded. Finally I get some internet and find a hostel, which luckily has one open bed, internet, and a Christmas eve party with a nice dinner and drinks!

From America Central

 

From America Central

I remember the SPOT tracker, and get online to find Mateo is in Antigua, although his phone is off so I can’t call him but I’m resting easy knowing he made it and I can go out drinking.

From America Central

That night I wound up at a bar that had all white guy travelers for the first time since starting the trip 3 weeks earlier. I wasn’t too into it… Christmas day I woke up and called Mateo. We met up and I brought him back to my hostel, where we stayed two more nights. Turns out he was staying and drinking right near the bar where I had been the night before. We were able to bring the bikes inside and Matt grabbed a spot on a mattress on the floor for half price.

From America Central

We finally silicon sealed his exhaust, and left it to dry for a day. Taking a day off riding finally got my gestion crackin on both ends too J. After much debate, we head out for the Copan ruins in Honduras, following video we have of an adventure riders map we’d recorded on Christmas.

From America Central

There’s no maps here, which isn’t a big deal since the road signs are worthless anyway. We miss a turn and wind up in El Salvador. Oh well, we heard the beach road is nice. It’s dark and we get through the border quickly. Again we stop at a gas station and speak with the shotgun guard about some directions or a hotel. Apparently we shouldn’t go on because there’s a series of tunnels which have no lights, and people are generally robbed if they try to pass through at night. Matt had heard of this before as well, which makes us wonder: why don’t the police do anything if they know about it? It’s like the robbers that hang out at Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, what the fuck? El Salvador is on the American dollar, so for once we’re really sure we pay too much for the hotel and food. The next day is a nice day of riding some nice roads overlooking the beach.

From America Central

We pass through most of the country in a few hours, and wind up staying at the Monte Carlo in San Miguel for $8 per room. We ask the cabbie to take us to a good bar where we can meet some chicas, and they like Americans. He says he’s not sure about Americans, but they like dollars. I tell him I want to be clear, I don’t want to pay for women, no strip clubs, how about a college bar? He looks at me funny and stops talking. Five minutes later we’re at Safire’s strip club, where the beer is only $2! Okay, let’s see what these girls are made of. A couple of them approach Mateo and myself, and start talking. Ugh, swear to god, the one talking to me had the breath of a cheap hooker who’d just earned a quick $10. Not kidding. We got the hell outta there and called it a night.

From America Central

We wake up and head for the border, which is tough because the road we take only has signs from one direction, so we have to double back to find it. Anyway, getting into Honduras sucked. We ran into an American couple riding KLR’s whom I’d met in Antigua on Christmas eve when I was stressed out worried about Mateo.

From America Central

 

From America Central

Anywho, they’re the only ones ahead of us at 9:30am. They get finished with customs at noon, when everyone takes an hour for lunch break.

From America Central

Okay, at 1pm we’re making progress. They don’t use computers for much, so hand written paperwork and many copies take us through to 3:30pm, at which point I rip a nice wheelie and then find out she didn’t give us everything. We head back, and a copper takes Mateo’s license for cutting through a divider. I’m worried we’ll have to spend money and another day there so I recommend we just take the loss since he’s got another one. One wheelie later and I find out now I need two copies of this new paperwork. This time the copper stops me for turning around, so I just leave my bike parked in the street and walk back to get copies. At this point I’m out of money so ask the nice looking 16 year old girl working at the copy center for pity copies and she obliges. Last wheelie.

Honduras is nice! It looks like they have the same amount of money as Mexico, Guatemala, but they seem to take more pride in their properties. There’s colorful paint, some basic landscaping… It seems like they have some pride and maybe even zest for life over there. We drop by a gas station for a quick beer and snack, which turns into a photo shoot with some locals who really like us.

From America Central

 

From America Central

Then, we get the first decent directions we’ve gotten the whole trip from the local coppers, who don’t mind speaking slowly for us either. Wish we’d stayed longer really, but we’re pushing to get to Nicaragua for New Year’s and relax for a few days.
Into Nicaragua is a nice change of pace. After ripping a wheelie on the bridge there, we pull into Migracion and Aduana to find… nobody begging, bothering, or trying to help us. Only three young ladies who want to sell us insurance, but they don’t seem to care if we want it or not. Or they were trying to play hard to get, either way I wanted to talk to them. Apparently they don’t allow the “helpers” there… And, they use carbon copies when you sign so there’s no need for copies. We’re out of that border entrance in 45 minutes. We ride to Leon, where the American couple had said they would be. By the way there website is sapoyrana.net if you want to check them out, they’ve been all over. We find a hostel that has $4 beds, and pay a security guard a dollar to watch our bikes on the street overnight after comparing his club to Mateo’s quickstick.

From America Central

Not sure exactly what we paid for, since after unloading them I come outside to find him taking the sheepskin and bungees off because they’re not safe even with his guard.

From America Central

The next day we do some laundry and head to San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua. The main road there from Leon is awful, full of potholes, gravel, dirt sometimes. I think it did make good video though… We get stopped about 40 minutes outside of Managua and the cops go over our bikes until they find a problem: the headlights are on, which is illegal during the daytime here. They tell us we’ll get tickets, go to Managua, and return with the receipt to get out licenses back. But, they leave in 45 minutes, so even if we were able to find the bank in record time, the task is impossible. Fortunately we can just pay them cash!

From America Central

(For the record these are not the coppers that we dealt with. These guys stopped to check us out when we were doing some video action immediately after the shakedown, somehow they must have made it through the checkpoint themselves.)

Forty dollars and a half hour later we’re back on the move and finally arrive in San Juan del Sur a few hours afterwards.

From America Central

Awesome place, and I loved the vibe the minute I arrived. The camera mount on my handlebars came apart in the street, and I picked up one part and missed another. No more camera mount until we find an internal Manfrotto part L. Anyhow, we ride around for a bit and find Hostel Esperanza, where we score a private room for $20/night until after New Year’s, which is great since it’s hard to find anything there this time of year; this town really packs in!

From America Central

My man Carlos had given me two wife-beaters and a t shirt in Antigua, which have been great. The wife beater is hands down the best shirt under the jacket in the hot weather! Plus, it really compliments my creepy mustache.

That night we warm up to the night life with $7 bottles of Flor de Cana at a really cool bar called The Pier, which is a hub for travelers in town.

The woman who works at the hostel tells me I don’t need a helmet to ride around town (well the locals don’t seem to), and I get pulled over two blocks out. The girl from the hostel I’m with talks them out of giving me a ticket, then takes me 15 miles in the wrong direction looking for the famous Playa Madera. At one point we were about five miles in the middle of nowhere on a dirt road, when an ice cream guy rolls up, which turns my frown upside down right away. I go out that night, and get pick pocketed for my wallet, which has my debit card, Nevada driver’s license, and around $75 cash. I’m a little drunk, but after seeing someone on the floor below looking through a wallet like for the first time, I rush downstairs then realize I didn’t get a good look at them. I see two guys whom I suspect, and wind up following them around for an hour until a female friend from the hostel flirts and feels them up to tell me they don’t have the wallet on them. The card was later used that night for around $140. Got to love the locals, that card was a business card from Wells Fargo with my custom company logo on it. Somehow I don’t think the guy using it looked the part… For the record I don’t think Wells Fargo is giving me that money back either.

The next day I make good friends with Lilly and Dia, the two girls at the hostel that I’d been eyeing since I got there, and ride 3-up to Playa Madera.

From America Central

I get some surfing done, some beach timelapse, and we end the day with a Matt’s rear tire flat in the darkness miles from civilization. We ride back with the tire and decide to deal with it in the morning- this is New Year’s eve. We also happen to run into Sapo y Rana!

From America Central

 

From America Central

That day the hostel informed us they needed to take the extra mattress from our room, so Mateo and I would need to share a bed in our private room. There’s got to be another way! I strike a deal with the two girls from the beach that since they’re sharing a bed, we should trade up partners so Matt and I don’t accidentally touch one another while sleeping. Holy shit it worked. New Year’s eve is amazing, other than the fact I got pick pocketed, again, this time for $25 loose in my pocket, and Mateo found someone’s hand in his pocket. Time to get on the horn with the bank, on the internet, which cuts out sporadically and I have to start these calls over, and over, and over...

From America Central

This brings me to a rant- many authorities down here have a policy of don’t ask don’t tell, or see no evil here no evil, or something that makes common crimes happen. In Antigua, everyone knows that people get robbed at Lake Atitlan. Why can’t they arrest these people or put a guard up there? In El Salvador, everyone knows you get robbed in the tunnels at night, why can’t they put some lights in the tunnels, or again, police them? The pick pockets are so numerous in San Juan, I bet the bouncers must know who they are by now, I doubt pick pocketing is something people only do a few times then move on. And I keep hearing about the corrupt police in Argentina on the way to Iguazu Falls… I’m just bothered by this common knowledge crime that gets ignored by people in a position to do something about it, especially when that is their position- their job- their freakin duty!

From America Central

New Year’s day we change Matt’s tube and finally get the heavy duty Fly in there. The locals who are still partying on the beach from the night before are duly impressed with our skills, and we change it in about a half hour (after setting up the timelapse camera). A bus driver lets us use his air.

From America Central

I take the girls 3up again to the Jesus statue above the city, then have a nice dinner with the four of us.

From America Central

 

From America Central

We finally get out the next day after getting an interview from our new friend Dia, and head for Costa Rica. While in San Juan del Sur we decided our movie should be about the travelers we meet along the way, including hostel peeps, adventure riders, and Gringo immigrants. This takes a big stress off our shoulders, because properly covering our trip, which is what we were originally thinking the movie would be, is next to impossible. We finally get across Costa Rica, after waiting in line behind five busloads of people at immigration getting stamped out of Nicaragua.

From America Central

It's funny, this guy in the grey and red t shirt had asked me for a tip. Of course I refused and had no clue why he'd even asked, since I hadn't even noticed he was there while I handled all my own business. Then, weeks later I see this picture and realize he must have been following me the whole way through, probably repeating the words of the Migra and Aduana, LOL! I'm pretty sick of the helpers, and often talk down to them with little respect. Does that make me a bad person? I don't give a shit, those people go out of their way to make my life a little harder, so I'm not going out of my way to worry about their esteem. Also at this border a kid of about 12 asked me for a tip for guarding the bike, while Mateo was there the whole time!

From America Central

Costa Rica is a pretty easy border, but it’s night by the time we get into the country and we stop at the first hotel we find after having dinner. You had to see it to believe it. There’s a bar with rooms above in a town with all dirt roads. When I tell the jefe that we’ve got bikes he orders the entire bar to make way from the front door to the back where our bikes will sit inside. Every table in the place has to get up and watch their table pushed aside (if they don’t help) as we push our bikes past their captivated faces and drinks now in hand. The place looks to me like a whorehouse from the old west, built with all wood, and the visible stairs from the bar leading to rooms where you can see through the wooden walls and shared bathroom. I hang out for a while downstairs and learn the life story of several townspeople, and they force me to sing “Lady in Red” on karaoke, which I’ve never heard so I of course butcher the song. They really look disappointed when they hear me sing, but hey, I told them I’d never heard the song what the hell did they expect?

From America Central

We do some good offroading in the rain and make it to Volcan Tenorio, only to find there’s a four and a half hour hike involved at the top. Er, nevermind. Let’s keep moving.

From America Central

 

From America Central

We head towards the beach, make a wrong turn, and wind up in San Jose and hook up with a pretty eventless hostel, other than an American we meet who tells us how he was sliced and hacked up by a crackhead in Quepos.

From America Central

The next day we decide to change our oil, and luckily meet Alaskan Dan, who approaches us and takes us to his local shop where we can buy some decent oil. No silkolene 100% ester, but at least semi-synthetic 20W50. We do the change right there on the sidewalk and head to Quepos to stay at Casa de Rasta.

From America Central

Rasta’s proprietor, Ben, comes and meets us at the coffee shop with internet, then we follow him back to the island with a quick stop at his guy’s place and a semi crazy motorcycle load onto a small ferry across the water. When we get there we run into a Finnish couple I’d been waiting in line with at the Costa Rican border two days earlier.

From America Central

 

From America Central

This small island off Quepos was very relaxing, and this place had no internet so we were forced to really take a load off for a couple of days. Other than that, there was surfing, ziplining, a 420 daze, an interview with Ben, and a flat tire.

From America Central

Thank you, Del Amo Motorsports of Redondo Beach, for giving us the wrong tube. I did appreciate the cocky attitude and proving to me that your social life at work was more important than my purchase, but giving me a 21 incher for my Supermoto which I’ve carried for 5,000 miles on my front fender is really what sealed the deal for me. What a dick, now we’re stuck with the crap they sell down here and will probably have to change it again…

From America Central

Out of Quepos Matt gets stopped for speeding, but the Costa Rican police don’t waste our time trying to act like they want to give us a ticket. $20 and three minutes later we’re on the move to Peninsula de Osa, National Geographic’s most geographically intense place on earth. The ride in is awesome with some really stunning views, and scary potholes in the road.

From America Central

We stay in this town Puerto Jimenez, which is really a dump.

From America Central

My Central American peeps all know the Suicide Shower.

The next day we experience our first river crossings, which go smoothly other than the fact that I lose one of my sneakers. I really liked those… oh well, at least I still have one to dry the foot which was submerged in one of the crossings. Holy shit it was deep for a minute, I must have hit a rut because my foot was on the peg and it filled my Joe Rocket boot. 

 

From America Central

 

Anyhow, great day of riding, we should have stayed another day and really gone into the park. By now though we’re in a hurry to get to Panama City and make plans to get to South America.

 

From America Central

 

From America Central

 

From America Central

“Why!” (talking about my shoe)(and I’m running out of meth) 

We leave after taking a lunch and 360 degree timelapse from a summit overlooking the peninsula, and make it across the Panamanian border at night. While I do the stamps out of Costa Rica Matt lubes the chains and discovers that his chain has been tearing apart the wiring going in/out of the stator (I think). After a bit of fiddling now his bike won’t start, and he literally pushes it across the border to the Panama side. Acting as the good friend that I am, I make sure to get some video of the situation.

 

From America Central

Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s hard to focus shooting video on a DSLR.

 

We stop at the first hotel we can find, which is about an hour and a half in and seven miles off the main road. It’s $55, but we talk them down to $45, and stay just because we’re tired. Turns out there’s A/C, and the place is run by the German couple from Super Troopers. In the morning we’re fed a five star breakfast (included), by the wife who’s listening to techno at daybreak. Hands down the best breakfast so far.

 

The entrance to Panama City is great, we take a huge bridge over the mouth of the canal, then see the shoreline view of the city, which seems to be mostly high rise condos. We find a hostel, but there’s nobody working there so we stay for a half hour and use their internet to find another. The street signs are hard to read, and the one way road system (where not every other road is a different direction), is tough but we find the place, which is full. We stay in a pension that’s got singles with hot water for $15/night each. The next day we holler at a couchsurfer, who agrees to take us shopping for my new sneakers. She’s not sure about the helmet law so we ride for two minutes until the police stop us. They talk with us for a half hour, just waiting until we offer money. They point out if we have a ticket we can’t leave the country, it’s illegal, I have no paperwork on me, they could impound the bikes… I tell them that I’ve only ridden with people on the back where helmet’s aren’t required for the passengers. He tells me that’s not true, they’re required everywhere in the world as he looks at Matt’s Colorado license (no helmet law there). Who’s got more credibility here? The guy with the gun. Our couchsurfing host talks them out of it, we go to the mall then move our things to her place. Jeannett has graciously offered us to stay at her high rise apartment in San Fransisco as long as we need.

 

From America Central

 

I write overlooking Panama City right now.

 

From America Central

 

We keep changing our minds what we’ll do. The original plan was take a boat to Columbia, and follow through Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Argentina, Brazil. The looking on Horizons Unlimited I found people had flown to Lima, Peru. This would save us time, since we’re about 10 days behind schedule of where we though we’d be. The we met Steve here in Panama who suggested we fly to Bogata, then shoot through Venezuela and jump on a boat down the Amazon, which would be fastest. Then looking at the maps, we’re not so sure if it would be as fast for us as he’d predicted. We head to the Tocumen airport to find out what our options really are, today. Copa isn’t shipping bikes right now, and Girag only goes to Ecuador and Colulmbia, which cost $1900 and $900 per bike. But there’s a company called Cargo Lux that ships to Santiago Chile for $895! Deal. Next flight is Monday, so in the meantime we’ll try to use the big city for what it’s worth: Manfrotto parts, Mac laptop repair, nightlife, couchsurfing meetups, international shipping... Perhaps a quick trip to the San Blas islands?

 

From America Central