Every Day Has an End

Bathroom stop under a bridge in Nicaragua


THURSDAY APRIL 3RD

Central American Riding Rule 4 ..........DON´T do two border crossings the same day.

Left Usulutan El Salvador early this morning, and made the border with Honduras at El Amatillo by 9:30. This time, the tramadores really socked it to us however. We met these guys on the Salvadoran side, and it turned into a fiasco as they promised one thing and delivered another. Some payment up front, but the number kept getting larger. First, a story about the computer was down and they would need more money to have an official do all the paperwork by hand. Then this and that, and by the time we FINALLY (3 hours later) were thro, we were about $112 lighter per man.

Trucker getting some rest at the Salvador-Honduras border

Jogi trying to find a wi-fi connection while
killing three hours at the border

Let me just sumarize the way border crossings work in Central America......first you have to export yourself and your vehicle from the country you are leaving. This involves a stop, usually one but can be two where you must show your entry papers from the country you are leaving . Then you proceed into the border zone where you must go thro immigration for yourself and customs for your vehicle to enter the other country. They typically want two copies of license, passport, registration and title plus whatever else they dream up. These are officially stamped and then you BEGIN the process. Honduras and Nicaragua require fees and in the latter case, insurance for about $30. You are besieged with money changers and dozens of tramadores all loudly insisting that you use their services. They are very vague about just what their fees might be as we found out to our regret.

Most of the work is done on typewriters (when did you last see one?) altho in El Salvador, they scanned our passports into a computer system. The slightest irregularity sends you back in line. Hot, tedious, time consuming and confusing pretty well sums it up. Plus a constant line of BS from your helpers about why things aren´t going well and why more money is needed.

Anyway, two and half hours later we clear the Honduran border and race like crazy across the scant 75 miles of that country to Nicaragua where things really got bad. Again, the gringos got royally screwed by the ¨helpers¨who took


Honduras-Nicaragua border

another $90 off us, got our papers in about an hour, but when we tried to leave, were stopped by Nicaraguan Immigration officials who said we lacked an important receipt and would have to go back. Another hour of hot hassle, and we never were exactly sure what in hell was going on, but suddenly it was discovered that we HAD the necessary papers afterall, so were allowed to cross. Our plans to ride 120 miles to León in the toilet, we set out on absolutely the worst road we´ve encountered the entire trip.........Highway Central America 3 thro Nicaragua. It will be dark in about an hour now and the road, which we were warned about by a vendor of Gatorade and bottled water, is indeed ¨muy peligroso¨.........when she said this to me, I mistakenly thought she meant dangerous because of bad guys, not bad pavement.

This ¨road¨was little more than a series of washouts and enormous potholes..........complicated by the Latin technique of pothole repair which is to jackhamer out about a 2 X 2 foot square nearly six inches deep around every pothole, circle with chalk and leave for evental filling in. Sudden death if you hit one of these on a motorcycle at speed. Speed dropped to 30 mph as we weaved in and out and around these things, dodging kids on bicycles and veering out of the way of trucks and buses which would abruptly move into your lane to avoid a huge washout. A lot of passing on the dirt to the right and other heart stopping maneuvers. My major fear was darkness falling........it gets dark earlier the more south you travel and having to navigate this bloody excuse for a road in the dark thus violating Central American Riding Rules number 1 thro 3 which is DON´T RIDE AT NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thankfully, after about 20 miles, the road began to gradually improve. We passed several horse drawn carts full of firewood, and lots of other colorful stuff I don´t have pictures of because we were set on ¨getting to a town before it gets dark.¨

Merciful God, we made it to the Hotel Los Volcanos, a very nice place, bar & restaurant, internet, secure parking right in front of the lobby for the bikes. A hot (Yes! They have hot water) shower, good meal of garlic shrimp and a nice bottle of Cabernet later, the world looks much better.

Tomorrow we are going to take it easy. Visit Granada which Jogi says is beautiful, eat lunch in the park, spend aother night in Nicaragua and plan on entering Costa Rica Saturday. I could use a day of rest.

Mazatenago to Usulutan Wednesay April 2

Wednesday April 2nd

Pool at the hotel in Guatemala

We had just left the border station at La Hachadura, between Guatemala and El Salvador when a gaily painted bus pulled over to let us pass. Welcome to El Salvador! This would never happen in Guatemala where, as Jogi put it, "they drive like they are in a war."

Northern Guatemala is mountainous, like Chiapas, this gives way to lush green farm land as you go south. El Salvador is beautiful, my favorite country so far. Rugged mountains, good roads, very friendly outgoing people and they take American dollars so no need to hassle changing money. Gas more expensive.......$4/gallon and I'm now using premium on Gabriel's advice since he told me the gas in Latin America is "very dirty."

Border station into El Salvador

Wonderful mountain roads on Central American Hwy 2, several tunnels and we ran along the ocean for a ways also.

The border crossing was tedious, hot, insanely complicated, and hot. We used two tramadores, young guys who guide you thro the process, show you the way from copier to customs, to immigration, back to customs, back to immigration, etc.We paid one $5 to watch the bikes and $7 to the other who acted as guide. Well worth it too. The fact that my sister Sharman's name was on the title of my bike caused a minor problem. I explained to the official that yes, we bought the bike together, but she had since given me the bike. When he asked where she was, I considered telling Jogi to go buy a wig and try to pass, but instead produced the notarized document which attested to the above, and this made everything happy.

Got into Usulutan just at dusk, rang the bell on the high steel security gate to the Hotel Campo Real (the first hotel we tried upon the recommendation of a helpful guy at the gas station was out of business) and a uniformed guard wearing a pistol-grip 12 gauge shotgun slung around his neck, granted us admission. Nice room for $32. Everyone was quite taken with our saga, the bikes and Jogi's GPS, although I explained that it didn't work worth a hoot in Central America. (poor maps is why) Would have made our goal of San Miguel another hour away, but took a wrong turn this morning and went 50 miles in the wrong direction, arriving at the Guatemalan coast instead of El Salvador. I got worried upon seeing all these signs for "Puerto this" and "Puerto that" so we stopped at a park where a bunch of bikers were parked, eating lunch and asked, then back the way we'd came. 358 miles and a good day.

The Road is a Harsh Mistress

Monday March 31

Well, recall I mentioned looking for dark spots on the road which could signify oil? You can´t see dark spots of oil on a dark road however as I discovered in the Chiapas Mountains about 50 miles from the Guatemalan border. I came around a very sharp curve heading uphill, front tire hit a patch of oil (I walked back later to confirm this), washed out and down I went. Initial thought was, ¨what in hell happened, this was so easy?¨ Jogi was right behind, we pulled the bike up, wheeled it off the road before some car came along to squash me good. Clinically, my right ring finger is broken at the distal phalanx or tip.........knee pads did their job so no other injury. The tip of my finger was canted off a bit so I yorked on it some (excuse the fancy medical jargon) to straighen it out and did a makeshift splint with some bandaids. More importantly, the bike was relatively unscathed, at least from the outside. Guess I helped break its fall.

Limped it into nearest town of Comalapa, but by this time the bike was suddenly dying and becoming increasingly hard to start. Found an interesting little hotel where the room resembled a barn, but clean and the fan worked. Now bike wouldn´t start at all, so we pulled off the gastank, changed the spark plug, but little improvement.

Jogi went down to a nearby Internet cafe where it was mentioned that a pretty good motorcycle mechanic was close by. About 9 PM, Jogi returns with Gabriel.....wheeling his Honda 250 dirt bike into the tiny hotel lot. He manages to start the bike, takes it for a test ride thro town, but returns on foot nearly half an hour later explaining that the bike died so he left it with a friend. Jogi rides off on his bike, and together they push it back. Gabriel tells us he thinks the fall knocked debris from the tank into the carb and that he will return next morning to clean carb and tank. I was too tired and upset to do much more than peel off my filthy clothes, shower in freezing water and fall asleep.

Prior to The Fall, we had been enjoying an interesting day. First, a wreck between two trucks on a little bridge had traffic backed up for about half a mile, but we rode to the head of the line, and found about a three foot space between the immobile vehicles we could ride thro. It´s good to be narrow even if my mirrors almost touched the trucks as I went. Then, in Chiapas we rounded a corner and again traffic was stopped.........this time for a demonstration against high electricity prices. The protest was designed to shut down the major road to show the government how unhappy the people are. Thinking the flyer which was proffered was some ad for a fiesta, I almost said no, but noticed Jogi reading his so took one which was good or there would have been major offense given. Chiapas is a very poor state, heavily Mayan and was the locale for the Zapatista Rebellion in the nineties when the people there revolted against the national government (which typically gives this area short shrift) and actually took over several towns. This was quickly put down by the Mexican Army, but the spirit of rebellion is strong here and you see many pro Zapatista signs on buildings and car windows.

So we sit in the hot sun and are quite the hit with the young guys who crowd around and ask questions about the bikes, until we ask about leaving. We had ridden to the head of the line where the peasants had made a crude barrier of stones and palm branches. One fellow who looked important said we could pass, but when we attempted to go, a rather angry crowd blocked out way and made it apparent they didn´t like the idea. So, Jogi took their picture which pleased them....probably thought now their little protest would make all the Western papers....., but still no pass. There was much laughing mixed with loud arguments between the ¨they are just tourists and this isn´t their issue, let them go¨faction versus the ¨to hell with them, nobody passes, it would be disrespectful and besides we need to show we´re serious¨group. After a while it was agreed we could go and the crowd parted, a small opening was made in the barrier. Jogi decided to show off and popped a wheelie as he rode thro, but it went awry, the rear end sashayed out and he barely kept the bike up by using his feet as outriggers. This was well received by the crowd who no doubt thought it had all been purposefully done for their entertainment. I was loudly encouraged to do the same, but politely declined and awa



TUESDAY APRIL 1ST

7 AM sharp Gabriel (yes, just like the angel) shows up on his bike with a sack of tools bungeed on back, holding an oil drain pan and a can of spray carb cleaner in his right hand. The guy was just great, pulled the carb off and expertly disassembled it in no time at all. And yes, the main jet was plugged. All done and put back together in about 2 hours and the bike runs great. I twisted the handlebars back straight on the forks, and we proceeded to Gabriel´s house



Passerby watches the oil change

where he showed us his collection of old and wrecked bikes and quads, then to the store for some oil and then back where he changed oil on Jogi´s bike for good measure. Didn´t get out of town till nearly noon, but at least I have a functioning machine.

Border crossing at La Mesilla went very smoothly. Quite quick and absolutey hassle free....would that the other might follow suit! Rode about 150 miles. What a beautiful part of Guatemala......mountainous.....very steep, everything lush and green with both pine trees and palms. The buses here are painted bright colorful designs, everything looks much more festive than in Mexico. Tonight we are staying at a nice hotel in Matzatenango......$30 night WITH Internet obviously. In Guatemala, they don´t have the national gasoline company they did in Mexico, so good old Texaco, Shell and even Esso are found. Gas here is also sold by the gallon instead of the liter....about $2.80 for regular.

A trying 24 hours, but I´m happy now.

A Week in Mexico

Got up at 6 AM, did 368 miles and are now in Juchitan, nearly in the state of Chiapas which borders Guatemala. If tomorrow is good, we hope to cross the border sometime in mid-afternoon. You can make good time away from the big cities, even with the numerous small towns as long as there isn't much traffic and we pass everyone, riding about 20 - 30 mph faster than everyone else.Another surprise this morning at El Dumpo Hotel.....air conditioner (at least it had one) leaked water all over the floor soaking one of Jogi's bags including his clothes. I stepped out of bed and was actually relieved that it wasn't backflow from the toilet.

Did a little roadside maintainance when my rear brake fluid got low, so we bought some good old DOT 3, and filled it up, much better.


Stopped In Puerto Escondido.......a beautiful spot and pleasantly free of much of the tourist scene characteristic of Mexican resort towns. Fish fillet at a beachside restaurant then on our way to make up for lost time. Nearly in

Juchitan, saw this herd of goats and the palapa.


Riding a motorcycle is a completely different experience than riding in a car.A few people who may be reading this are motorcycle riders, but most are not. On a bike you are part of the environment rather than just passing thro it Operating the vehicle is very user-intensive, no sitting back on cruise control. You constantly are receiving and assimilating numerous bits of information every few seconds which you must process and usually act upon as you ride. Thought I'd recount the thoughts that went thro my head, what I saw and what I did during about three minutes of riding today as we came into and left a little town.


***********************Scanning the usual 8 seconds ahead...following the mnemonic of
Scan Identify Predict (SIP), looking for hazards. Notice a dark spot on the road, could be oil so I swerve to avoid it. Something you unlearn when riding a motorcycle is to avoid the natural instinct of target fixation...looking at the hazard, because the bike goes where you look. Look where you want to go, not where you don´t want to go. Jogi dives into a tight lefthander, follows a racing line and I do too. Set up outside,go inside to clip the apex of the turn, then outside near the road edge. Perfect, and I feel like Valentino Rossi doing it right. Big black rocks up ahead?, no...two large black cow butts facing the road as the owners graze with heads down perpendicular to the road about four feet away. I move to the right to create some space even though it seems unlikely they will spring into my path like deer. Speaking of which, where are they? Haven{t seen any deer since we{ve been in Mexico, 2000 miles now. Maybe the Mexicans ate all the deer? Another turn, right hand this time, but as I am in the curve, leaned over on my line, I notice sand along the inside so I adjust the line a bit to miss it and skim the center line as I exit. Suddenly, we round another corner and there is San Ignacio....population about 1000. Signs warning of topes. Hard on the brakes, lightening up on the rear as the front end dives under braking to reduce chance of a rear wheel skid, simultaneously blip the throttle and downshift two gears, stand up on the pegs and whack the throttle open to lift the front tire over the tope. Two little kids walking along the virtual shoulder. I create space by moving to the left of my lane, wave at them but they just stare blankly. It occurs to me that, in my riding clothes and helmet, I must seem like an alien from outer space to them. Accerating leaving town when Jogi{s rear tire abruptly kicks up...stealth tope.....no sign, no marking, just a big undulation on the pavement which we don{t see....BRAKEBRAKE BRAKE, only time for one quick downshift, stand up so my legs can act as shock absorbers, but hit it too hard and feel the front forks bottom out as the bike becomes slightly airborne for a split second. Mutter my millionth curse at these infernal things. A truck, barely moving directly in front of me. I do a quick head check to my left, lean out and look ahead. A car is coming, but I figure I can beat him, quick downshift, accelerate around the truck to make the pass and tuck in with room to spare. *******************************

Acapulco Hell

If yesterday was the best day so far in Mexico, then today (Saturday March 29) was the worst. Realizing that we are taking longer to travel Mexico than anticipated, we wanted to make some mileage today, but things started badly when we got turned around leaving Playa Azul, took a "shortcut" on the advice of a local guy (Central America Riding Rule #6 – Locals are always eager to give directions which are almost always wrong) which got us into Lazaro Cardenas all right, but not on the main road and we wasted a ton of time finding it. Two hour later, we'd traveled 28 miles!
Yesterday, we had another Federale stop.......17 year olds with M16's, looking very serious indeed as they unzip a bag here at pat down a duffle there. The officer in charge was friendly and even recommended the hotel in Playa Azul.
Back to the here and now, Things went from blue to gray as we approached Acapulco; we'd planned on bypassing the city altogether which was possible, as it turned out, only on the map. Instead, we inadvertently got into town, and spent the better part of two hours trying to stay alive in the utter chaotic mayhem which is Acapulco traffic. Buses cutting you off, cars blasting out from side streets, stop and go major gridlock jams..........all in the usual milieu of fluid lane demarcations ( there aren't any) with two vehicles often trying to occupy the same space simultaneously. I consider it fortunate that we escaped without injury. FINALLY, after 5 stops to ask directions (see above rule) and 3 to check our maps, we escaped.
The topes are rapidly losing their charm to put it charitably and in G rated language........not that they had any in the first place. By now, I must have ridden over a few thousand of the damn things. For the most part, they make no sense whatsoever. There are usually 2 – 8 of them at the entrance and exit of every little town,sometimes marked, sometimes not. Today, when we at last made the highway out of Acapulco, and are accelerating onto what amounted to a turnpike, what did we encounter but several of the ##$%%^&# topes....!!!! This on a major high speed thoroughfare. Called it a day after 300 miles, emotionally and physically exhausted. Stayed in an authentic Mexican hotel, i.e cheap, tawdry, but clean with an air conditioner that works and the faint odor of sewage throughout. Hey beggars can't b e choosers and there wasn't any more daylight to seek out a bigger town. Had a very good authentic Mexican dinner however, enlivened by several giggling senoritas who kept asking, "What are you doing here?" with genuine puzzlement , made jokes with Jogi and practiced their English.

Highway 200

The vehicle safety compound at Hotel San Miguel

Cobblestone street in Tomatlan

Hwy 200 from Tomatlan was the best riding day yet. 350 miles of mostly curves. The speed limits are ridiculous........posted limits of 36 or 42 mph (converted from kilometers/hr) were pretty much ignored as we went along at twice these speeds. Big mistake staying in Playa Azul tho, a beach town very expensive and touristy. A mile from the beach, Jogi's saddlebag came loose, lodged against his rear tire, tore open and spilled his underwear across the landscape. Could have been bad had he b een leaned over in a curve, but no harm done except to the
20 mile from Playa Azul

bag which was damaged severely. We lost an hour we could ill afford secondary to the time zone change. We are behind schedule to enter Guatemala Monday as it is.

Pharmacist where we stopped to change money

BELOW is a video Jogi (he's a genius!) took of me on Hwy 200

Puerta Vallarta

(above is San Blas)
Not a lot of progress today. Did some bike maintainance in front of the hotel in Acapoponeta, ate breakfast on the road and met some Mexican bikers headed for the big bash at Mazatlan.
cut over to the coast thro some of the twistiest stuff yet, some serious windy roads thro the mountains which makes for slow going at times since there is a tiny town seemingly every 500 yards complete with topes (large speed bumps) and vibradores (series of 10 -15 smaller bumps spaced over 50 feet or so) to slow you to a crawl at times. There were not one but two accidents in the mountains which really backed traffic up nearly all the way the last 30 miles into Puerta Vallarta. Close to the city we had our first police encounter. Didn't see Jogi behind me, waited and still nothing so turned around to look for him and see him coming towards me. Turns out he was pullled over by a motorcycle cop who claimed that both of us had run a red light.I'm pretty sure this was bogus although not impossible. Anyway, the cop is BS'ing him about his bike, and doesn't the seat get hot?, etc. Tells him he must surrender his license (which he took) and pay a fine at another town. This was repeated several times at which point Jogi decided it was all crap, told the copi he'd had enough and said, "Give me my license back. I don't have time for this (!!!!)" He then, showing considerable chutzpah, proceeded to grab his license from the cop's hand, got on his bike and left!!!! He seemed very nonchalant about it all, but I was flabbergasted. (
below are photos of Puerta Vallarta)


Anyway, into PV, stop for refreshment and then a tortuous, very hot 100 miles down the coast..........still very mountainous, and stopped for the night at a little town called Tomatlan where our bikes were locked in a gigantic metal corral for the night. (I'll post a pic of this later) Hotel Mision San Miguel, spacious room with a balcony, shrimp for dinner. Only 232 miles today so tomorrow will need to be a big push.