October 3rd October La Libertad to Chinandega via Honduras

Hotel at La Libertad

I knew it was going to be a hard day, but didn't expect it to be quite so hard. Doing two lots of border crossings and 250 miles in one day was a tall order. I didn't want to spend anytime in Honduras, my intention has been to get to Costa Rica to rest and recover for a while and get myself organised for the last country in Central America - Panama.

Since Tinkerbell is still on partial strike, navigation has been more difficult, but today I managed to rig up my iPhone on the bike with some velcro, so that it was secure and open to the elements and avoid overheating. By using the Hotel’s wifi I could tap in my route and it would direct me turn by turn. I rode along merrily for a few hours out of El Salvador along good, fast  roads, but idly I daydreaming I forgot to look at the screen. This must have been for some time for when I did I found I had missed a turn and was way off route. I managed to retrace my steps but lost a good hour in the process. I was annoyed with myself and cross that I had not focussed. As I said before at the start of the day it is easy to make mistakes, one has rushed to get on the road and anxious to head out of wherever you are staying and then once on the open road you relax. In my defence I am used to Tinkerbell barking “Off route, recalculate’ which good old Google does not.

El Salvador was great, what I saw of it, and would enjoy seeing more - one observation though, it appears that in developing counties, once they create the infrastructure the detritus that comes with it (rubbish) just seems to be thrown way. El Salvador was littered with used plastic bottles all along the side of the road, which I didn’t find in Guatemala or Honduras. The other thing that occupied the hard shoulder was maize or some grain, scattered for a few hundred yards, one can only assume to dry out in the sun. But when gathered in I wondered how they separated it from the small chipping and whatever else was left there. I meant to take a photo, but never quite managed. This neck of the woods is littered with volcanoes and gives the place a unique landscape - it is also very fertile and one wonders why they are not better off than they are, it surely cant be explained away by CORRUPTION!

 I reached the Honduras border without further mishap by around 11.45 and even with a helper just to clear customs and fill in the import vehicle forms took an age.This was not helped by the Officers clocking off for lunch at 12pm for an hour. The proceeds is just so unnecessary, the cancelling of your visa (long queue) the rechecking of your vehicle, the photocopying of every document in triplicate. You have to satisfy the police, the migration and the customs - all wanting to see your papers and each wants a slice of your wallet. You could refuse but then you would be back of an extremely long queue of lorries and could be there a day or more. It is an industry in its own right. Today each crossing into the next country cost me close to  $100. It makes your blood boil. I forgot to mention that $20 is for some young boy to randomly spray your wheels with some disinfectant (in reality probably just water) and you get the other side of the border and their roads are littered with all kinds of germ ridden objects. After 3 hours I had eventually cleared El Salvador/Honduras customs and had a 80 mile crossing of Honduras to the Nicaraguan border.

Honduras was a pretty country, mountainous like the rest of this part of the world and the roads reasonably maintained. This was good as time was getting on, I complete the 80 miles in an hour and half and got to the next border around 5pm.

My Bonito at the Honduran customs, look closely at the cabling on the roof (a metaphor for Honduran civil administration)

This border was even worse than the last one, packed solid with huge queues and temperatures going through the roof. Without exaggeration I was literally dripping. One further problem was I did not have enough dollars to pay the import fees and immigration charges. The  cash machine did  not allow me to take out money or I was misinterpreting what it was telling me. After much haggling I managed to get through as night was falling, The 44 mile to Chinandaga started well with beautifully paved roads but I soon hit a major rebuilding development of their highway. It became shingle and loose dirt. In daylight it would be fine but in the dark, SCARY. At around the halfway point I ran into a long line of trucks all stopped, I cheekily sneaked up to the front of whatever hold up it was. It turned out to be a complete roadblock with the road closed. A local persuaded the armed guard to let me go through the block, which I did. There was merely a single lane dirt track where the road should be, but worse than that I was being faced by a continuous line of lorries coming from the opposite direction, headlights dazzling and blinding me. This went on for around five miles, good old Bonito hopping along the unmade up road. Putting my headlights on full beam was my strategy for slowing down the oncoming trucks. Eventually i found proper tarmac and could start breathing normally, relax and increase significantly my speed. I was poodle along around 50 miles an hour when without warning the road ended and became gravel and boulder strewn track, Seeing this suddenly before my eyes I thought I was a gonna, but my trustee stead flew straight across. Fortunately the unmade section was no more than 50 metres or so. I was so impressed with the way the bike handled such rough terrain.

By 8pm I reached Chinandaga (a smart and modern city) and had to find an ATM if I was to eat tonight. I also had to find the hotel (without a map or satnav). Having got some money I decided to get a taxi to take me there and I followed on the bike. It was 15km out of the City and when we arrived it looked decidedly dodgy, but I was past caring by this point. He departed and I walked to a makeshift reception. It turned out not to be the Hotel at all, similar sounding name, but not the one I wanted. After a strange conversation I managed to ascertain it was 10km down the road I had just come up.

It was easy to understand why the Taxi driver had made the mistake as my hotel looked more like a private residence. Standing by the gates of the property was a armed guard who let me in. Now this is funny, my armed guard was 4’10” and approximately 85/90 and weighed around 7 stone. He was very jolly and kind and the only person on site. The hotel was more of a privately rented outhouse, but very beautiful and tasteful. The old fella came with me (Escorted me) to a local bar where i had a few beers and a delightful steak and salad. There really was no need to be escorted it was perfectly safe and after all what could my companion really do if threatened, I was more worried by wether he’d fall over on the 1k round trip to the bar.

That night I slept uninterrupted till the sound of traffic at 6.30 am, a very hard and long day, but glad to be in Nicaragua and just one step away from Costa Rica.

Raphael Viga (my body guard) the guy standing next to him is 5' 3''

However there are some consulations

Flor de Maria Munoz (The maid)