More Ric’s Fab Tour to Mexico and Back

Let’s see, I left off saying we often stayed in $8  night rooms.   Some had pictures instead of TVs but I found them more intriguing….   

I’m looking at my notes now…  January 14Th Woke, dressed, did Internet,  coffee and split.  This is basic Pan Am highway.  Not much but desert and odd bits of trash blowing wisps of color for the Mad Max footage running along with me.   Donkey drawn carts flash by on a parallel dirt road designed for three miles an hour.  Me and Ric are settled in, ass sore and running a respectable 120 clicks an hour…  Mud and tin shacks fly by in time, lest we loose the beat…

We stop for gas, stretch and ride back into it till the sun starts to set over Ocotal, Nicaragua.  We splurge and get a double for $8.50 at the Mirador, high up and on the right…”right as rain” it was, a Jehovah’s Witnesses gathering in a bleak and poor part of the country.   Respectful, quiet and somewhat suspicious they were.  We counted ourselves lucky for the beer next door and the bottle I found in one of my saddle bags.  We retired to a patio outside our room and watched the colors change over steel doors that separated us from the world outside.  ….and were forced to choke down a giggle now and then as the evening drew to a close.

Next day is a straight shot up to Los Manos and the Northern border of Nicaragua and Honduras.   There’s a shuck and jive thing that goes on at these crossings.   Young men and even children crowd around us, offering their services for the quickest, most official way  through immigration and customs.  They come in two waves.  One to ease you out of one country and the other to massage you into the next.  I think of them as locusts when I roll up.  Usually I recognize one of them and accept their help.  One needs to be on his toes here, and know the laws.  I believe it was here that I took this picture of Ortega in pink.

Rise! The Poor of the World!

It was also here that Fred, Jim and their tour came in from the States and we had a chance to compare notes and have a few words in passing.  Figure the odds, of meeting like this instead of missing a hundred miles apart on different routes.  We gassed amongst each other a half hour or so and it wasn’t long before Jim had them into Nicaragua and I had Ric and I into Honduras …..and down the road again.

This was a long day, too.  As I remember, we were worried about the time we were taking to get to Mexico and concerned that three weeks might not be enough.  Ric was right and we ended up paying on the trip back.  Still, at this point we were still Pura Vida!

It may be that you’ll recognize some of the towns we rode through as towns we’d been through on other tours; thus giving truth to the adage, “sometimes there’s only one way to skin a cat”…and you’d be right…to a point.  But you know each time I go, I find new ways.

As we rise in altitude, so the road begins to curve and soon it’s fun again.  A day passes just riding, lining up cars and trucks and taking them any way we can.  Like shooting pool…bank shots are extra and a cow in the road offers a chance to save two lives in one shot.

Orange Friends, Held Fast From Behind.

As dusk pushes the light and time is once again important, Lago de Yojoa begins to appear on our left.  Lot’s of little restaurants and souvenir shops come into view…always the lake in the background….sun falling in reds and yellows and hues of the rainbow.  Hotels slip by and still we look for a place Ric found in one of his travel books.   I’m a guide…I don’t need that stuff…. After some false starts and lots of asking, we at last find Agua Azul towards the north end of the lake and west enough that only a dedicated person would find it.  We were dedicated….and tired.  Ric was right about the hotel, found the bar and I checked us in.  

Lago de Yojoa (Lake of Yojoa)

We unpacked the bikes and rolled them down to our own front porch.  The lake unfolded before us and we had our first really quiet night without having to worry about anything except eating Sea Bass, Steak and good cold beer to wash it down.

The next morning we had a leisurely breakfast overlooking the lake and packed our bikes for the ride to San Pedro Sula and North to a coastal town near the border named Omoa, part of Cortes.   Little did we know Rain Man was about to take a giant dump on us.  We rode about 170 kilometers in and out of it and it had just stopped raining as we rode into town…

We stopped for supplies and found a small   Canadian Hotel named Suenos de Mar (.com) with wireless and good food… and, as fate would have it, it rained all day after that.  And the day after and the day after….

I refer once again to my notes:  Planning a route is a problem from here.  We decided not to go through Belize…We’ll be on dirt roads in very rural areas of Guatemala and Mexico.  Is there gas?  Are there places to stay?  How bad the roads?

Erosion has become a serious problem here..

Rain is a problem.  Ric wants to be on a warm beach.  Maybe a third night here…he’s watching the weather and we’re changing plans with each new forecast.  We’re going to Belize now.  He’s going about this like an engineer (which he is)….good ’cause I’m just waiting for a force to move me….

That force came in the form of boredom and frustration in not riding.  The sun was up enough and there was just no reason to stay.  It felt good to pack our gear and get out of town.  You’ll notice two of the videos are shot in Omoa.  I’m looking forward to going back…

Our next stop was Rio Dulce… or Sweet River, in English, and indeed it was sweet.  We only had a night there but it was a good one.

Rio Dulce and Back Packers Hostel Met Our Budget and Warmed Our Hearts.

I worked a bit on our bikes and felt better for it.  To a mechanic, fixing a bad connection is as therapeutic as a good swim for a duck.  Analogies like this have made me a laughing stock, but I keep doing it…

In the morning we breakfasted and planned our next stop…one drawing us closer to making a decision about Belize.  Meanwhile breakfast was more then great, it was magnificent, to the music of John Coltrane;  with boats filled with men on their way to   work.   I imagined myself living here and, with Internet and a busy mix of young tourists and hard working people, I realized how possible it would be to just step out of my life and insert myself here with room again to grow and find another me.

To be continued…….