Day 44 - Dominicalito Bay

Sadly, it was time to pack up and leave the fabulous Dominicalito Bay and head for the Panama Border. We were up pretty early, excited to be getting back on the bikes and crossing our final border, with the exception of leaving Panama itself. We were still on track to arrive at Overland Embassy in Panama City on Friday afternoon to check on my paperwork and get the shipping a little more sorted out. My Title had still not arrived in Panama City, and when we checked, the tracking details showed that it had been received and signed for at the address that Overland Embassy had given us on Friday the 17th of May at 16:43. So I was expecting that it should be in Panama City already, but maybe it would arrive the next day, a Friday, which would give them a  week to get the Title couriered to Panama City, which was the plan. Overland Embassy’s plan, to be clear. Anyway, there was nothing I could do to influence the situation so there was no need getting upset about it. We cleaned up around the place, put our dirty linen in the wash, packed up the bins, which were primarily empty beer cans, and decided that as we hadn’t been charged to stay for our wonderful time in Dominicalito Bay, thanks again Aaron and Jacky, we would leave Adrian and the others a US$50 tip. An outrageous sum of money for us, but it really had been wonderful to chill for a few days and decompress. We were on the road by 09:30 in the morning with a ride of about 2 hours to the Costa Rica/Panama border crossing at Paso Canoas. We left Dominicalito Bay with heavy hearts, but the lush riding along the initial road to meet the main road, Highway 2, was great and we were pleased to take in this little bit of extra enjoyment from Costa Rica before crossing the border. The crossing went pretty smoothly and the guards we helpful and directed us through the various stages. At one point, whilst entering Panama, the chap was filling in the details of my bike from the Registration document and he asked me what Make and Model the bike was. I wrote down on a piece of paper that it was a Royal Enfield Himalayan, which he misunderstood and filled in the Make as being “Royal” and the model as being “Enfield”. I also noticed that he included the chassis number for the engine number but didn’t think too much of it, I was just pleased that I hadn’t been asked to show the original Title. It didn’t cost much, but the insurance for the bikes in Panama was a little expensive at US$35 for each bike, but there isn’t much you can do about that. We did get assistance from a guide, but as he didn’t hassle us or even put us under any pressure, we were happy to give him a US$10 tip. The entire crossing only took about an hour, which meant that our initial destination, a town called David, wasn’t very far ahead of us, only about an hour. As we had anticipated that an easy border crossing might mean that we could push a bit further, meant we had also looked at stopping for the night in the next substantial town called Santiago. This was a ride of about 3 and half hours, but Santiago didn’t look like the kind of place you want to spend too much time in as it was just a stop on the main highway to the capital city. The ride from the border was really boring. We both commented that it would be nice to stop and do some filming, or even just get a couple of photos. However, there was really only one occasion that might have warranted a photo of some distant mountains, but as we couldn’t find a decent place to pull over, we kept going. That should give you enough of an idea about how average the scenery was. We hadn’t found a place to stay in Santiago, and the satnav was just taking us to the central square. As we entered the town, which is separated by the main highway running smack through the middle of the town, we spotted a couple of other overland bikers pulled in at a gas station, so we made a beeline for them to have a chat, why not. It turns out they were both on Royal Enfield Himalayans, 2018 models as opposed to our 2021 models. The chap and his girlfriend are from France and have been on the road for 8 months, having started out in Canada and they are heading south for as long as they can. We swapped details, handed out stickers, and then carried on to the town square. It was not the most appealing town we had been in, just a mass of people and traffic. We found a place to get out of the road and the traffic and found that there was a place called the Travellers Hostel not far from our location. So, we headed over there, all the while thinking that we were getting into a very dodgy neighbourhood, which just got worse and worse the further we went. When we arrived, the 2 ladies who were running the hostel were extremely friendly, and welcomed us in, and even changed the mattress on my bed as the boss lady didn’t think that I should have a crappy mattress. They made us some lovely dinner and we had a couple of beers and chatted to another French couple that had arrived just after us. The mosquitoes were still out in full force, and it was still very humid, so we finished our dinner and retired to our room and the a/c for an early night.

Day 43 - Dominicalito Bay

Waking up with no responsibilities to travel was awesome. A very slow start to the day and I was chilling out on the front porch having my morning coffee when a chap popped his head over the fence and asked if we were the guys that were travelling from Lake Tahoe. A bit random, but I mentioned that Jorik lived in South Lake Tahoe and yes, we were travelling on the bikes and had come all the way through Mexico and Central America to find ourselves in Dominicalito Bay. It turns out, Tony presents an online travel show about what people are doing in Central America. He had spent 4 years in Nicaragua and is now in Costa Rica interviewing people who were doing cool things in Costa Rica. He asked if he could do an interview with us, which of course we jumped at. I changed out of my pyjamas, and we ended up doing a very cool 15-minute chat with him and his girlfriend for their channel (www.radpadradpad.com). As we haven’t really managed to crack the internet with our channel and updates, maybe getting some exposure from Tony’s followers might help. We will have to see. We had met some American people at the beach the day before who were attracted by the bikes on the beach. They had advised us that there was a really cool brewery in Dominical, the next village along, and that we should check it out. As such, our plan for the day was to hit the beach to improve our surfing skills, or lack thereof, and then we were going to head into Dominical to check out the brewery, do some admin on the laptops, and maybe grab some lunch. We had plenty of leftover cottage pie for our dinner, but we fancied a pizza for lunch and the folks from the beach had also advised of a great pizza spot in Dominical. We hadn’t checked out Dominical yet, so it was a good plan for us. we did eventually find the brewery once we had already parked up and pretty much walked the town, and then got settled in for a couple of hours chill. We didn’t bother to ask how much the beers were and being an independent brewery, they had the ales and beers that they were currently offering on a chalk board, but with no prices. We should have been savvy to this, but we went ahead and ordered 2 beers, which were really only about half-pints. It was tasty, but I am still a simple guy who likes a simple larger and would have been happy with a local beer, Imperial! Still, when we were finished our first beers, we had a second. The check was US$35 for basically 2 pints of beer. Bloody daylight robbery and we were not happy about it, but hey ho, it had been a chilled afternoon. We then headed back into the town to find the pizza place, which from our efforts, appeared to be closed. There was an Indian place, but it just seemed wrong to have Indian food in Costa Rica, so we skipped the pizza, headed back to the house, and made it before the afternoon rain started up again. It was another chilled-out evening watching the thunderstorms and getting ready for the next day’s travel, which would see us cross our final border into Panama.

Day 42 - Dominicalito Bay

There had been some pretty amazing thunderstorms the night before, wild storms that knocked the electricity out a few times. This part of the world is still pretty primitive so when the storms come the power tends to go off for a bit. Not really a problem as we had a comfortable spot to chill out and watching the rain, whilst we weren’t riding in it, was actually pretty cool. It was still very humid, even at night, and what little the rain did to supress the heat, was barley noticeable.

After our efforts the day before surfing, we wanted to give it another go. Us old boys got pretty knackered, but it was still a load of fun, so we had some breakfast, made on the stove that was now working perfectly fine (thanks to Adrian and family), and made our way down to the beach with the boards strapped to the bikes again. Our second attempt was better than the first, but we were clearly not going to win any awards for our surfing prowess. Beach time done; we headed back to the house as we wanted to get up to the waterfall again to get some better pictures whilst the sun was up. As we were walking up the track to the waterfall, we were confronted by a monkey on the road, right in front of us. He kind of checked us out and then proceeded to walk right up to us and cruised past us into the jungle. A cool experience to be so close to the wildlife that is just everywhere in Costa Rica. It is an amazing place and full of life and lush green plants. Unfortunately, there were a couple of families at the Waterfall, which was fine as the pool is plenty big enough to swim and share the space with them. But it meant that taking photos was maybe a bit forward, particularly as there were little kids there. Whilst chilling at the waterfall and looking round, I noticed a rope swing that I had missed the day before when we had visited. It was pretty high up, so I clambered over the rocks to find a way to climb the tree where this rope swing was attached, found a long stick on the way over there and climbed up. I found that there was already a long stick carefully located in the tree to help catch the rope to swing from. I managed to get the rope in my hands, but I had no idea how long the rope had been up, when it was last used, and if it could take my ‘considerable’ weight. Looking down from the launch area, there were some very big rocks in the shallow area of the pool that I would need to swing over and if the rope snapped, I was certainly in for some stitches. I did it, and thankfully made it into the deeper area of the pool. Probably not the smartest thing I have done, but exhilarating, and thankfully, Jorik captured it on video, so the evidence exists. Following our activity at the waterfall, we headed back to the house as we had agreed that the dinner the night before of spaghetti bolognaise had been awesome so we would cook again. Another speciality – cottage pie this time. As there had been a power failure when we got back from surfing, we hadn’t been able to open the electric gate and the girls were parked out front of the house on a little bridge that crossed a drain into the parking area. We didn’t mind that the girls were outside, we had taken the boards off them, but they were still outside, and the power was still off by the time we had purchased our ingredients for the evening’s dinner. We cooked up our food, and whilst sitting down to eat, an absolutely massive thunderstorm started. The rain was incredible, next level tropical storm, and the girls were outside getting a much-needed rinse off. However, they were still out in the street, which was not ideal. As there was no power, we were limited as to what to do, the bikes could fit through the single gate, but with the rain as torrential as it was, the gutters and drains were completely overflowing, there was no ways I was going to attempt to move them through the gate in that weather. We settled in to watch a movie on Jorik’s laptop and after about 20 minutes or so, the power came back on. It was still chucking it down, but I jumped up, and wearing just my swimmers, opened the gate and moved the bikes inside the covered area, just in time before the power went off again, the girls were safe and locked up inside, we could sleep easy.

Day 41 - Dominicalito Bay

We had agreed that we would aim to arrive in Panama City on Friday afternoon so as to get the shipping details sorted out at Overland Embassy. As such, we had a few days to ourselves as it would only require 1 overnight stop to reach Panama City from Dominicalito Bay. As there was a very conveniently located supermarket across the street, we were able to purchase the necessary ingredients for a tasty breakfast. We had eggs, chorizo, onions, bread and juice, and Jorik got busy preparing the food. The house is fully kitted out with a gas stove and oven, coffee machine, air fryer thingy, and all the utensils we might have needed. However, as Jorik went to turn on the stove to start cooking, he noticed that there was no gas. Not that the gas wasn’t turned on, the stove wasn’t even connected to gas. Not to be outdone, Jorik managed to cook the eggs and chorizo with onions in the air fryer thingy (I’m not sure if it was actually an air fryer), and all was well. We did drop Aaron a quick message after our breakfast to say that there was no gas, and Adrian and his brother were over in flash to sort out the situation. They installed a new gas bottle in the kitchen, and also sorted out the washing situation for us so that we could get some clothes and our riding gear cleaned up. They were very helpful, and Aaron is lucky to have them so close and attentive. Aaron had said that if we wanted to, we were welcome to take a couple of surfboards down to the beach. We strapped the boards onto the bikes and made our way down to the main beach. It was definitely not something that you would see everyday in this chilled out little town, 2 Himmis with surfboards strapped to them. To be honest, neither of us was any good at surfing. I managed to stand up for about 5 seconds, tops, but only on the white water. I don’t think Jorik managed more than about 2 seconds, but it was great fun having a go. The water is magnificent, nice and warm and the waves weren’t too big, so good for us to have a go. We spent some time down at the beach working on our surfing skills, or distinct lack thereof, and then headed back to the house to recover from way more exercise than I have done in years. We had been told that there was a waterfall nearby to the house and when I looked it up on Google Maps, the Poza Azul Waterfall was only about 7 minutes’ walk from the house. It would be rude not to go and have a look when it was so close. It was a very short walk through the little town and then up a dirt track. There is no sign for the Waterfall and if you weren’t looking for it, you would completely miss the entrance to the trail from the road. It was a bit like a scene from Indiana Jones, or something similar. A very crude trail down to the most spectacular waterfall and pool. We managed a swim, the water was a colder than the sea, but crystal clear. We spent about 30 minutes at the falls before heading back to the house. As we now had gas, I offered to cook some spaghetti bolognaise for our dinner, which would mean another trip to our local supermarket. It was probably one of the best meals we have had on the entire trip, and there was plenty left over for our breakfast the next morning.

Day 40 - Believe Surf & Yoga Hotel, Santa Teresa

The ferry from the Nicoya Peninsula over to Puntarenas left around 4 times a day and we were aiming for the noon ferry crossing, which had a crossing time of around about an hour and half. As such, there was no need to get on the road early as it was only about an hour’s ride from Santa Teresa. We had breakfast at El patio again, which was once again a very tasty breakfast. The girls were in great shape and the riding to the port promised to be along some spectacular roads. We were not disappointed, probably some of the best riding we had done the whole trip, possibly even better that the route between Mulege and Loreto in Baja, and certainly less challenging than the routes we had taken in Costa Rica between Tamarindo and Santa Teresa. Jorik’s charger had stopped working on his bike as the mounting of his phone causes the cable to pinch between his tank bag and the phone, so we stopped at a little supermarket just outside of Santa Teresa to pick up a new charger cable. Whilst there, a lady jumped out of her car and went running over to Jorik to say hi. I was parked up in some shade some way off, but still had my helmet on with the comms switched on. Whilst I didn’t actually meet this lady, I heard their conversation through the comms as she stopped right next to where Jorik had parked, and his helmet picked up the conversation. It turns out that she was a bridesmaid at a wedding that Jorik had taken pictures at the previous year, and they had met then. She had seen the “Keep Tahoe Blue” sticker on his bike and thought that she would have to stop and have a chat as they too live in South Lake Tahoe but have a guest house in Santa Teresa. Once again, the “Keep Tahoe Blue” connection had paid off and now we have another contact in Costa Rica that we can catch up with again in the future. We made it to the ferry terminal in good time, but it was still ridiculously hot and humid. I suppose the heat is better than the rain, but we had all our riding gear on and stupidly, should have put our shorts on underneath our trousers. As such, when we got onto the ferry, we could take our jackets and boots off, but still had to spend the crossing in our riding trousers, which looked a little ridiculous. A Dutch coupe travelling with their 2 young children, a little girl of 4 and a little boy of 2, sat at the table next to us. The little boy was fascinated by my boots, which were nearly as tall as him and with no fear, he came bounding over to me as I took them off and wanted to play with the buckles and straps, which I was happy to indulge him in. Of course, a couple of stickers were handed out to the kids, which was enough of an icebreaker for the parents to strike up a conversation with us. They have been on the road for a year, travelling through Mexico and Central America with their kids. They only have about another month to go but have purchased a Mercedes Truck to kit out for overland travel when they get back to Holland so that they can take on some much bigger trips with their family in the coming years. I told them about my experience in Africa and they are dead keen to go but want to wait until the little guy is at least 7 years old as malaria can be very dangerous for young children who haven’t built up enough strength to fight it. I told them of my rather close call with malaria whilst I was in Kenya, which I suppose just concreted the fact that they won’t be going to Africa with the kids for at least a few more years. A very nice family and the ferry crossing was much more entertaining with them and the kids than it would have been otherwise. We also met and American biker whilst waiting for the ferry to unload in Puntarenas who owns a few resort spots in Costa Rica and he rattled off a load of places that we should try to see whilst travelling towards Panama, although he mentioned that he was based mainly on the Caribbean coastline, which was a little out of our way. We were heading for Jorik’s mate, Aaron’s place near a town called Domincal, about 3 and half hours ride south of Puntarenas, so we didn’t think we would detour to that extent to pick up the Caribbean coast, but we graciously accepted his offer to pop in on him but explained that it might not happen. We exchanged numbers and he got a sticker! The ferry port in Puntarenas is located on a narrow spit of land that is separated from the mainland by a lagoon on one side, and the Pacific Ocean on the other side. It wasn’t a particularly attractive town and the traffic from the ferry was pretty heavy leaving the area. We were pretty much the last to leave the boat, so we had to make our way through a lot of traffic to get out of town. We put our route into the satnav, and I had a look at the map so that I had a general sense of where we were going. However, the road signs, the satnav and my map all seemed to have different ideas about where we should go to get onto Highway 34, which would take us along the coast to Domincal. At one point, the road signs definitely told us to take an exit, which the satnav did not agree with, and we ended up at the entrance to what appeared to be a military base. The guard was adamant that we were to head back the way we had come and to take an alternative route that made no sense at all as it was directing us to San Jose, the capital. San Jose was definitely not on our route and if we did end up there, we had done something completely wrong. After a pretty long day already, we finally got onto the correct road towards Dominical and bombed south. The riding wasn’t that great as Highway 34 is just a massive highway, but the scenery was pretty good. We passed quite a few other bikers on tour and even met some guys at a stop we made that had a regular Sunday ride. When we arrived at the town of Dominical, Jorik mentioned that the satnav said we still had a fair bit to go to make it Aaron’s place, which was actually in a little surf town called Dominicalito Bay, about 2 or 3 miles further south from Dominical. We had let Aaron know we would be there around 5pm and he told us that his man, Adrian, would be there to meet us. We pulled up at around 16:45, so pretty much spot on time, and sure enough, Adrian came over from his house, which is on the opposite side of the street to let us in via a security gate that allowed us to park the bikes off the street. The place is fantastic. Aaron and his wife Jackie purchased the property about a year ago and as Aaron is a builder, he is in the process of renovating Jorik and Melody’s cinema room to create a speakeasy vibe with a bar and new wine cellar for Melody’s substantial and impressive wine collection. They have 6 or 7 cabins on the property, all very nicely decked out for holiday lets and Dominicalito Bay is such a chilled-out spot, that any holiday there would be an absolute delight. It had been a pretty long day for us, great day, but a long day, so we asked Adrian where we might get some food. He advised us of a few places but said that the best place was called La Parcela, a very swanky restaurant overlooking the bay, which was only about 10 minutes away on the bikes. So, we unloaded the bikes, got settled into our separate rooms, a real treat for us not to share, and jumped on the bikes to head out for dinner. The sun hadn’t set by the time we left, but it was definitely twilight, and we knew we would have to travel back in the dark, but it wasn’t far. We had a fantastic dinner and didn’t even think about the price of the food as Aaron has very kindly offered for us to stay for free. We even had some cocktails, only 1 each mind you as we had to ride back in the dark. I was expecting a rather large check when it came as I had a ribeye steak and Jorik had a whole red snapper, but we were surprised that the bill came to less than what we had paid for a couple of beers and dinner at the very average place in Santa Teresa a few nights early, result! We then headed back to chill for the night. We have a few days off now, so we had a few beers and even splashed out on some 100% Agave Tequila as a treat.

Day 39 - Believe Surf & Yoga Hotel, Santa Teresa

We had two key objectives for the day, the first was to clean the girls as they were absolutely filthy from the mud and river crossings of the day before. We were also going to do some zip lining in the jungle canopy, an absolute must do activity when in Costa Rica. There would be the usual beach time and a few beers as it was our day off, but it was essential that get these two objectives completed. Whilst the hotel did offer breakfast, it was not cheap. In fact, Santa Teresa in general was pretty damn expensive by our standards and on our budget. The really average meal we had had on the night before might even have been the most expensive since being in Cabo San Lucas. There was a great little spot right next door to the hotel called Le Patio, which did coffees and breakfast, and was actually very good and much more reasonably priced. We researched our zip lining options over breakfast and booked a tour with a local company for 11:00 that morning for about US$120 for both of us, which wasn’t too bad. We had seen other companies in Tamarindo and Samara offering tours for about $100 each. It was actually the same place where Jorik had taken his kids when they were much younger when he first visited Santa Teresa back in 2009, which would give him the chance to relive what he said was a great experience all those years ago. However, an 11:00 start meant we needed to shake a leg and get a move on as we had about a 20-minute ride to get to the location. We caught up with the receptionist back at the hotel about being able to wash the girls that afternoon to ask if they had a hosepipe we could use. I am sure they didn’t want us washing our filthy bikes in the surfboard wash area. Unfortunately, as it happened, the hotel was undergoing some maintenance and there was no water pressure at the time. I did check, and sure enough, the shower in our room wasn’t working so they weren’t trying fob us off, there genuinely was an issue with the water at the hotel and there were a few guys digging holes and stuff. As such, we would need to make another plan for washing the girls. We headed over to the zip lining place and arrived in plenty of time for our briefing. There was an English family there, who live in Belgium now, but have been travelling in Mexico and Costa Rica for about a month with their 4-year-old daughter and the lady’s mother, who appeared to only speak French. The French lady wasn’t going to go zip lining, but the family was well into it. We got into our harnesses and then were taken up a track in a truck up into the jungle. It was an awesome experience; way better than I was expecting. I was super impressed with the young kid, who looked a little frightened on her first experience as the guide strapped her to him for a tandem ride, but by the 2nd ride, she was well into it. A very brave youngster and it was awesome to see how much she enjoyed it. To be fair, I was a like a little kid as well. I was whooping and hollering as I sped along these awesome routes through the trees, particularly as the backdrop was magnificent, with glimpses of the sea and the vast canopy. A thoroughly enjoyable experience and a massive highlight of the trip. It was also great to do something other than just riding the bikes, even if it was a little expensive for our budget. Buzzing from the zip lining, we headed back towards town to see about getting some cash, getting the girls cleaned up, and I also wanted to sort out 1 of my jerry cans, the one that had been broken back in San Juan del Sur by Luigi when he was pissed. The bungy cords were not holding it steady enough and it kept moving around. The screws that held the bracket in place had been lost, probably due to all the vibration from the roads we had been riding recently, and I wanted to get them replaced and make the jerry can a little more secure. We haven’t really used the jerry cans on the trip, other than for some water back in Baja when I was a little dehydrated and needed to take a lot of water on the day after our camping experience at Papa Fernandez. We hadn’t run out of fuel, although we had come close a couple of times, so I wasn’t that attached to the jerry cans anyway. However, the bikes look great with them on, even if they are not that practical. As we got into town, we found a place to park up and Jorik went in search of an ATM, and I went in search of some screws. There was an ATV hire place across the road from where we had parked, and I figured that they must have a workshop that I could rummage through to find the right kind of screws. Sure enough, a young lad came over to me who spoke some English and we dug around through some tins in his workshop and found a bunch of screws that would probably be suitable. He was happy for me to take them, so he got a sticker, which he was made up about. In fact, he called a mate over, who also wanted a sticker, and then another chap came over asking if he could also have 1 for his bike. The stickers are clearly a hit. Whilst Jorik was still on his mission to find some cash, I noticed that they had a dedicated washing area for the ATVs and a young lad was washing a small motorbike at the time. I asked my new friend if we could wash our bikes, but he was adamant that he would have to charge about US$8 for each bike to be washed as it wasn’t his call and his boss might get a bit upset if he did us any favours. As I had already scored some free screws from him, I didn’t want the lad getting into any trouble, so after some haggling, including the offer of more stickers, I caved and said that I would check with Jorik if we were prepared to pay that much for the bikes to be cleaned. Once Jorik had found a working ATM and sorted out some more cash, we agreed that as the bikes really were filthy, they could do with a professional clean. To be honest, the lad did a very good job, and I don’t think the bikes have been as clean on this whole trip. Whilst my bike was being cleaned, we grabbed a beer from a local supermarket and sat back in the blistering heat to watch the dude doing his cleaning thing, throwing in the odd comment here and there to ensure that a thorough job was being done. Cassy cleaned and gleaming from the oil that he sprayed over her when had finished cleaning her, a bit like WD40, and Jules next up, I set about looking at fixing the jerry can. It wasn’t a particularly difficult job, but in the heat and humidity, I was sweating so much it looked like I had just stepped out of a shower. The girls attended to, we headed back to the hotel for a swim to cool off and then some beach time in the afternoon. The clouds meant that we once again missed what must be an absolutely magnificent sun set when it is clearer, but it was by no means to be sniffed at. Costa Rica is absolutely amazing and beautiful, and I accept that we might not have a magical day every day, it was just a shame knowing that whilst a great sunset, it could be better. It just means I’ll have to find a way to come back again. We had learnt our lesson from the night before, so we headed to a local cantina type place for dinner, which was much more reasonably priced and pretty good. We had a pretty big day the next day, so it wasn’t a late night, but after such a great day, we were happy to crash, particularly as the yoga lot back at the hotel are not exactly the party type so it was like a church when we got back to the hotel after dinner.

Day 38 - Hotel Giada, Samara

The hotel had breakfast included and it wasn’t substantial, but it was very good. Loads of fruit, which is a healthy option for us, particularly as our diet hasn’t been too good on this trip. we tend to only eat twice a day, breakfast and then an early dinner. I get too tired if I eat lunch and then have to ride in the afternoon again and it makes the riding much tougher if I have to fight to stay awake. It was the same on the Africa trip, we never ate lunch, which not only helps with staying alert in the afternoon, because we were hungry, but also means that we would have more money for beer. So, with our bellies taken care of, the morning ablutions done, the bikes loaded, we pulled out of Samara and headed for Santa Teresa. Jorik’s connection had messaged to say that the coast road to Santa Teresa was a bit hairy and that there is a substantial river crossing that has to be negotiated at low tide. The river in question was located about an hour outside of Santa Teresa and should be taken seriously. We checked, and low tide should be around 3pm. We had about 50 miles to travel for the day, not particularly far, but travelling in Costa Rica had been slow going due to the roads, and it had been raining and we knew that the roads would be challenging, so we had given ourselves plenty of time to get to the river crossing, which should be around 2 hours from Samara. As we left Samara, which had been a good stop, we rode past a beach called Playa Carrillo, which was absolutely gorgeous. The best beach we have seen this whole trip by far and there was hardly anyone there. We had to stop and get some drone footage and take some pictures. It is a shame we hadn’t know about this beach before as it was only about 5minutes from Samara and it was straight out of a movie, just magnificent. We had time to spare so why not check it out, and I am so pleased we did. I hope it comes through in the video clips, just how spectacular this beach is. The terrain we had to ride was very challenging as hardly any of the roads we were travelling on were properly surfaced and we had some seriously steep inclines to deal with, both uphill and downhill and when the surface is slippery and loose, that is a proper challenge on the bikes. About 2 hours into the ride, and as expected, we came around a bend to find a pretty substantial river in front of us and immediately stopped to check out our options. It was way too wide and looked pretty deep to wade into with a stick and we were contemplating our options and which route to take when a pickup truck came from the opposite side and drove straight through the river, but over to a side that we hadn’t even looked at yet. That was enough for me, so I jumped on my bike and took pretty much the same route as the pickup truck had taken, just in the opposite direction. I got through with no issues and then set up to film Jorik coming through next. Whilst waiting for him to turn his bike around and get lined up, I noticed a sign on the riverbank that said “Expert Crossing Rivers – How to cross rivers, ask me tour guide Erickson Diaz” with his phone number. Well, I had crossed the river with no problems and Jorik then proceeded to cross without a hitch. As such, we stuck an Enfields Overland sticker on his sign, as we are also expert river crossing tour guides now. We did a little video as we were super chuffed with ourselves for having taken on the mighty river that we had been warned about although I didn’t think that there would have been an issue if it was high or low tide as we were not that close to the coast. As we were getting back on the bikes, a chap pulled up in his Jeep and asked if we had any advice for him for the crossing. I think he said he was from Columbia, and we let him know which route we had taken. He thanked us, but then warned us that there were still 2 more crossing, the first of which would be a short distance, but the second one, our third for the day, would be much more challenging. He mentioned that the depth of the larger river came up to the bottom of his doors, so quite some depth and that we should mind how we go. Bugger, we had gotten all excited about the crossing we had just done, only to find out that this was actually the easiest crossing and that we still had 2 more to go. With his warning freshly in our minds, we pressed on and sure enough, not far down the road, we came around a bend and were faced with a relatively short crossing, but quite fast-flowing water. We should probably have clocked that fast-flowing water means that it is probably quite deep, but we didn’t even get off the bikes to check, we just went for it. Both of us got absolutely drenched. In fact, the video footage will show that the water from riding into the river actually came over my windscreen. That was not how deep it was, but the wash from the bike pushing the water as it entered the river came flying over and drenched my gloves and jacket, not to mention that my boots and trousers were soaked through. The hot engine was hissing, and steam was coming off from everywhere, so we quickly decided to keep pushing rather than to let the bikes cool down. It wasn’t much further when we passed a sign that said that we were entering a dead end and that if we wanted to get any further, we were to take an alternative route. Screw that, we had come this far and were already wet, so we may as well see what all the fuss was about. A few meters further and we encountered the river. It was a big river, certainly wider than I was expecting and it did look pretty challenging. We pulled the bikes up and whilst Jorik walked down the river a bit to see if there was a better location to cross, I decided that I was going to walk into the river to feel for the best location, particularly as the entire riverbed was rocky and not nice and sandy with a smooth surface to ride across. I stripped off my wet gear, down to my undies and waded into the river. Jorik thought this was hilarious, but I wanted to be sure we knew what we were getting ourselves into so why not take the extra time to double check. Whilst I was a little more than halfway across the river, precariously balanced in the river, in my undies, a dude came bombing through on his smaller motorbike wearing a pair of wellies, and didn’t even hesitate, he just smashed straight through the river right next to me. When he made it across, he stopped and said to me “you can do it!”. He must have thought I was a crazy gringo walking through the river in my scants. This was even funnier to Jorik, and he quickly got himself lined up and took the same route as the other chap and was a cross in no time at all. I had to get dressed into my wet riding gear again, whilst being wet myself, and then cross over, which to be fair, wasn’t as challenging as the other crossings, and the 2nd was by far the deepest. We were chuffed to bits that we had taken on the challenge and that the girls had done so well, but we still had about an hour to go so there was little time to hang about. The track, and it really was a track, certainly not a road, from the river was sketchy as hell. There were pools of water and muddy sections for a fair distance, so the going was slow, and we were sliding around a fair bit. I was in the lead at this stage, and I came to a bend that was basically a swamp with very thick, smelly mud across the full width of the road. I spotted some grass over to the right of the bend and tried to get as much traction from the grass as I could, but Cassy was all over the place and it took all of my experience and ability to keep her upright, but I made it. The mud was thick and stuck to my tires, I could even feel how different she moved with all the mud clinging to her. I had to get out of the goop and find some hard ground up a hill so that I could check on how Jorik was going. I looked back just in time to see him make the error of trying to go round the mud to the left, getting it horribly wrong, and then dropping the bike smack in the middle of the mud pool. What a disaster and as the bikes are heavy, I knew I needed to go back and help him not only get Jules back upright, but to help get her out of the mud. We got it sorted, but by that stage, both Jules and the both of us were covered in mud. Stinking gross smelly mud! Still, we were all good and there didn’t appear to be any damage to Jorik or Jules, so we pressed on, albeit slowly as the mud on our tires meant we had very little traction at all. We got to the top of a hill, right near the beach and the track just stopped dead. There was no ways I was going back, and we were faced with a steep decent down towards the sea, which did not look inviting at all. We were debating turning back, when I said no chance, and just headed straight down this ridiculously steep hill with massive ruts from the rain and rocks sticking out. Not a route I would ever have normally taken, but we had come this far, so I had to go forward. I immediately noticed that my bake breaks were not biting, probably covered in mud, and I was way to nervous to even touch my front brakes as the incline was so steep that if I locked the front wheel, I was going down. I made it and then headed off on what appeared to be a track towards the left when I reached the bottom of the hill. The beach was right in front of me and there were a few people walking along it, so there must be a village or something nearby. I called to Jorik on the comms that it should be fine as I could see people, so he came down the hill behind me. He took a route that went straight on to the beach, rather than turning left like I had done through the trees. I got to a point where the track ran out and I would have to turn on to the beach, so I stopped, climbed off the bike and walked down on to the beach towards a couple that were clearly not locals to ask for directions. Jorik had already made it onto the beach and was now riding towards me, and as I no longer had my helmet on, I couldn’t hear him so started back towards my bike as it was clear, we would do the next section on the beach. By the time I negotiated my way through the trees and washed-up logs and branches to get onto the beach, and the harder sand near the water, Jorik had pulled up next to the couple that were walking along the beach. They explained that if we headed on for about another kilometre or so, we would find a track that led from the beach to a dirt track that we could then take towards a more appropriate road that would ultimately take us to Santa Teresa, about 30 more minutes ride from where we were. Sure enough, we found the exit from the beach, where we had seen an ATV had come down onto the beach and took it. We had to cross a river first, but then once we left the beach, we got the first attempt wrong and ended up turning left, which took us to the entrance to a private property, rather than a road. So, we turned around and then found the road that we needed. We did have to stop and ask for directions a couple of times, but everyone assured us that we were heading in the right direction towards Santa Teresa, we just had to be weary of the road, as it wasn’t in great condition. It had been a great adventure, crossing rivers, tackling mud, and even riding on the beach, but we were glad to finally make it into the town. We pulled up at a little bar called CJ’s and had a beer whilst high fiving ourselves for having done some proper riding in challenging conditions. We then had to find the hotel that we had booked, which was called Believe Surf & Yoga Hotel. It turns out we had passed it on the way in and we needed to go back some ways to get to the hotel. It was very nice, but very peaceful, in fact as we arrived, pleased with ourselves for having done such a big day, covered in mud and soaking wet, Jorik was asked to keep it down as there was a yoga session on, well yogis session, as they called it. This would not be our normal type of hotel, but maybe some down time would be a good thing. We managed to clean up a bit, in fact Jorik just stood in the outside washing area for surfboards and hosed himself down to get the mud off. The girls were filthy, and we asked if we would be able to clean the bikes the next day, as we had the day off to enjoy Santa Teresa. The chap said he would ask the maintenance guy and get back to us in the morning. We were keen to get down to the beach to catch the sun set, which is getting earlier and earlier the further south we travel. It had been at 07:30pm in Sayulita, but it had started to go down around 7:00pm, then 06:30pm, and it was now around 06:00pm when we needed to be in place. The chap behind the front desk gave us some advice as to where to get good food and mentioned that there was a place on the beach, but it was about a 10-minute walk from where we could get on to the beach via a little track opposite the hotel. We did catch the sun set, just, but it was a little cloudy, so it wasn’t the most spectacular sun set we have seen to date. Still pretty good, but not fantastic. We then walked about 20-minutes to find the restaurant, which was ridiculously expensive, and the food was very average, but I suppose, if you are the only option on the beachfront, you can charge what you like. Back at the hotel, we had a quick swim in the dark, and then hit the sack as the next day was still going to busy, even if it wasn’t going to a be travel day.

Day 37 - Pura Vida Hostel, Tamarindo

We had booked a hotel in Samara, our next stop along the coast of Costa Rica and I was hoping that it would offer as much as Tamarindo had to offer. I had absolutely loved Tamarindo, and whilst it was expensive, by our standards, it was a very cool town. It turned out that the ride was only about 63 miles, but it took us the better part of 3 and half hours to cover the short distance. Some of the roads were incredible for riding, but the surfaces kept changing from really good tarmac to gravel with serious ditches and dongas (a South African term for extreme ditches), so we had to go slow and keep our wits about us. The lush countryside is amazing. Beautiful trees and landscapes, and so much life, you can see it everywhere. Costa Rica was turning out to be a really wicked spot and we had only been to 1 town so far, but I was already taken by the place. We stopped in a town called Nosara as Jorik has a connection from a friend in Tahoe that he touched base with before leaving and she lives in Nosara. She had previously done the road between Nosara and Santa Teresa on a Honda NAVI, and she offered to give us some tips about that stretch, which we would tackle in the coming days. Hell, if a Honda NAVI can do the road, we could do the road on the Himalayans. Anyway, we stopped in Nosara, even though we knew she wasn’t in town at the time, but if she had chosen this spot to live, there must be something to it. Sure enough, Nosara is a great town. A very chic/boutique kind of town with lots of designer clothes shops, real estate agents and smart restaurants, mixed in with the usual palm frond roofed houses and basic properties. Very much a town of 2 halves, the rich and the poor. We had a coke and a quick stop, and whilst chilling out, I noticed that the adjacent shop called the Hot Tamale had a load of stickers on the door. I popped my head in and asked if I could stick one of our stickers on their door. An American lady came out to say that she was very selective about the stickers that are placed on her door and wanted to know what we were all about. I gave her the standard speech and she agreed that we could place the sticker on the door, well actually she agreed that she would place it. So, with another Enfields Overland sticker in place, we finished our cokes and got geared up to head the rest of the way to Samara, our stop for the night. It had rained the night before, not during the day, we still had the fantastic fortune to have not ridden in the rain at all, even though there had been some absolutely massive downpours overnight, particularly in Leon, Nicaragua. The rain had left the unmetalled surfaces very slippery and difficult to negotiate. We had to be weary of the gravel and sand surfaces in particular as the bikes would slip and slide if we got the balance even slightly wrong. At one point, I was riding behind Jorik, and he hit a particularly slippery patch and he went sideways, before coming off on a grass verge where he got his foot caught under the bike. It wasn’t serious and he wasn’t travelling fast, but the weight of the bike was too much for him to lift, so I jumped off and helped him get free. This was much to the enjoyment of a few passersby that offered to help but could see that we had it in hand. By the time we got to Samara, we were very hot and sweaty and were ready to get into the hotel to take a load off and chill out. The hotel was very nice, with 2 great swimming pools, one of which was right outside our room, which had a little outside seating area with a table and 2 chairs for us to chill out. We jumped in the pool and sure enough, we hadn’t been in for long, when it started to rain. It was kind of cool to know that we were still on a clean streak with regards to riding in the rain, and it wasn’t cold, just nice to have the humidity dampened, even if it was only short lived. We walked down to the beach to have a look and a swim and passed a place called Limeys on the way down, which we decided could be a good location for our dinner that evening. The beach was great, not as crowded as Tamarindo and the water was crystal clear and clean. We had a beer down on the beach and whilst checking out a couple of other options for dinner, a massive green and red iguana came crashing down as it fell out of a tree right next to us. it didn’t seem bothered about falling down, but he was a beast, probably bigger than the green and yellow iguana that we had seen at the hostel in Tamarindo. Great to be so close to cool wildlife as we haven’t seen much on this trip so far. We headed back to the hotel for another swim to wash of the salt water and chill out until we went to Limey’s for dinner. The food wasn’t anything special, but what did stick out was a guy with 2 massive plates of food in front of him and the biggest belly I think if have seen on a human. He sat and scoffed his food down like Mr Creosote from the Monty Python movie – The Meaning of Life. It was pretty disgusting to watch this fat dude wolf down his food, blow his nose with a tissue and then proceed to wipe the sweat off his face with the same tissue. It properly turned my stomach and was possibly the most disgusting thing I have seen on this trip. Apologies for that mental image, but I had to endure it in real life so you can endure it through this blog. After that rather unpleasant experience, we headed back to the hotel for some kip as we would be heading on to Santa Teresa in the morning.

Day 36 - Pura Vida Hostel, Tamarindo

Fully recovered after a good night’s sleep, we wanted to spend our day off catching up on admin and chilling. Tamarindo is a great spot and whilst it is a little expensive for our budget, there was no point avoiding some of the activities, just because we were nervous about spending too much money. We had a smoothie and grabbed some breakfast from a little place in the town and then headed down to the beach for a swim and to check out what the scene was like. The beach is great, beautiful, clear water, a great temperature for swimming, but the waves were a little naff (I think that is surfer talk but may be completely wrong). There were a few people out surfing, but it was no Sayulita so we decided that we would skip the surfing efforts and hold on until further down the road where we felt we might have a better chance of styling it. We spent much of the day hanging out at the beach and watching the world go by. There are horse rides, loads of massage options, and the usual folk selling bracelets and sunglasses that trawl up and down the beach all day. It was pretty chill, but we needed to get on and decided that we would be better off back at the hostel, where we could get some work done, pick up our laundry, and chill at the pool with cheap beers as we had a fridge in our room, result! Back at the pool, I was catching some rays and just chilling out listening to 3 lads from Boston play some silly game where they had to guess a person from their past through 20 questions, or something similar. It was quite entertaining, but I didn’t get involved. Whilst sitting there, someone clocked a giant iguana in a tree across from the pool. We immediately assumed that it was a statue or a carving as the thing was massive and really well camouflaged. We were all chatting about how we had missed it up until then and a couple of us walked over to take a closer look. As we got within just a few feet of this huge iguana, it moved and nearly scared the crap out of me. Sure enough, it was a massive iguana that was cruising through the trees and eating leaves and stuff whilst minding its own business. It was beautiful, green with yellow flashes and absolutely massive. I really didn’t think that they could get that big, hence we all thought it might be a carving. I encouraged 1 of the American lads to get closer so that I could get some context of scale, but he was just as scared of it as I was, so we both kept our distance. The rest of the afternoon was spent chilling out at the pool as it was brutally hot, and it was just easier to relax. As the afternoon drew to a close, we headed down to the beach to watch the sunset, and to take advantage of a happy hour we had spotted the evening before at a great bar on the beach. It was a very chilled out day, exactly what we needed, and it gave us the opportunity to catch our breath after a hectic few days crossing a number of different borders. As we were finishing our drinks, and happy hour had ended, we spotted that some fire dancers were setting up a little further down the beach at another bar. So, we moved position and found ourselves a table right in front of them. There were 2 girls and a fella doing their thing, which was super impressive. We thoroughly enjoyed it and even gave them a tip, not something that we do much as we are still on a budget. However, it was impressive enough to warrant a tip and well done to them. When they finished and did their little speech about how this is their only income, we needed food. Most of the prices in the restaurants were inflated due to the cost of things in Costa Rica, but we had enjoyed the food court the night before, so why not. We headed back there again and found ourselves a good spot for some burgers, which were lovely. It was pretty busy and just as we received our food, 2 ladies come wondering through the food court looking for a table. As we had a big table to ourselves, I waved them over to come and join us. They are 2 mates from Argentina that are travelling through Costa Rica on a shoestring budget for a jolly. We ended up having a great conversation with them and a really good evening. They explained that they were also going to head down to Santa Teresa, a stop a few days from where we were, and we made a very lose plan to hopefully catch up with them down the road. For info, we never did, but they did follow us on Instagram, and I saw a few days later that they had been in Santa Teresa at the same time as us, we just missed each other. Following our chance encounter with the Argentines, we headed back to the hostel, played a few games of pool and had a chat to some of the other, much younger guests. A really great experience, but the next day, we would be packing up and heading further south.

Day 35 - Hostel Pachamama, San Juan del Sur

After the antics from the evening before, I had a quick look at Cassy whilst on the way down to the beach for a quick swim at 07:00am. She was fine and the broken bracket on the jerry can was nothing to serious, well nothing a few repositioned bungy cords couldn’t sort out. We got packed up and left San Juan del Sur, a great little town and I’m glad we made the decision to stop an extra night in Nicaragua. We were on to Costa Rica next, and this had always promised to be a big highlight, so I was keen to get through the border, and get into the next country. As the border was only about 30 minutes ride from San Juan del Sur, we were there in no time at all. We had done some research the evening before about the process of passing through the border and it looked pretty straight forward. However, Jorik had clocked a key tip in the research that told us where to get our TIP cancelled. It was through a door that has a NO ENTRY sign, that no one tells you about. Anyway, the tip paid off and we were through the Nicaraguan border in about 30 minutes. When we pulled up at the Costa Rican border, we were expecting dancing girls, a fanfare, and possibly a marching band. After the really crappy crossings we have done on this trip, I thought this would be a walk in the park. To be fair, it was pretty straightforward, but we had to join a massive queue for immigration that took about an hour to get through, then we had to get a few more stamps from various different departments before heading on to the vehicle inspection area a bit further down the road. We pulled up to a very secure looking arrangement with a guard on the gate. There was a bit of a fuss when we arrived, and I just wanted to go in to talk to someone. A more senior looking chap came over and we took it that we could get our insurance sorted out (US$45 for each bike!), but we would have to wait until after lunch to get the actual TIP. What you ganna do! So, we sat down to wait for lunch to be finished. We did chat with a chap who helped me translate some of what was being said to me through the process as my Spanish is still about as a useful as my Arabic. With our paperwork in order, it was on to Tamarindo, about 2 and a half hours down the road. The first stretch of road from the border to Liberia was interesting but was along a very busy route so we had to keep our wits about us whilst bombing south. When we turned off the main highway towards the coastal towns, not only did the roads get a little more interesting to ride (so basically worse), the scenery more beautiful, but the resorts and signs of serious tourism started to show. We had been warned that Costa Rica would be more touristy and that is to be expected, particularly considering some of the countries we had just come through. However, that comes with a higher cost of everything. I had seen a place online called the Pura Vida Hostel, which wasn’t too far from the beach, the main drag in the town, and had a twin room for about US$50 a night. But as per our style, we arrived in the town and pulled up to a bar. In fact, it was a brewery and sold craft beers. Not something that I usually go in for, but it was right on the beach and right at the start of town, so a good location for us to pull in and get our bearings. The security guard got a little excited when we pulled up and took the last remaining parking spot for the bikes, but an English-speaking chap, who I took to be the owner of the adjacent coffee shop, said that it would be fine to park there so we did. Whilst not a long day in the saddle, it was still hot and humid, and it was good to be off the bike for a bit. We jumped on the Wi-Fi in the bar, a craft beer in hand, which was bloody expensive for 2 pints, and we had a look at our options. We decided that Pura Vida Hostel looked like the business for us. Back on the bikes, which had already drawn some attention, we passed through town along the main road and found our way up a track to the hostel. It was very nice, had a pool, a good sized room with a communal bathroom, but importantly, it had AC as it was still pretty hot. We got the bikes unloaded and all our kit up to the room and then went for a swim, got some laundry sorted out with the Polish receptionist surfer chick, before heading down to the town to check it out. Tamarindo is great town, but expensive, so we opted for some food from a food market and then went down to the beach to watch the sun go down and have a few beers. It is once again clear that it is not peak season, at all. A lot of the restaurants are massive with huge amounts of seating, for hundreds of people, but there only like 4 of 5 tables being used. I have to admit, I think Tamarindo would be a very different place in peak season and not somewhere that I think I would want to be. It is a great town, just small so I could see how it could become overwhelmed with young students and backpackers. Mind you, there are not likely to be too many brits, so maybe the youngsters are better behaved in Costa Rica, but I doubt it. After our food and drinks, it was back to the hostel for some kip as the next day was ours.

Day 34 - Casa Abierto, Leon

Leon had been a pretty cool town, so we were thinking about 1 more night in Nicaragua. We could make the border in about 4 hours, but our 1st destination in Costa Rica was preferably to be Tamarindo, which was still another 3 and half hours, which meant another night in Nicaragua before we crossed the border, would be good. We had a few recommendations to check out San Juan del Sur, which is only about 20 or 30 minutes from the border. Having sorted out our route for the day, we grabbed a very nice breakfast for a very reasonable cost at the Hotel Casa Abierto, and whilst packing up the bikes, we met 2 other bikers from Panama City that are travelling north. 2 lads on Kawasaki’s. A 650 KLR and a 250 KLR. They are heading up to Cancun, where they will leave the bikes for a year, and then fly back to carry on their journey further north to Alaska. Nice work boys, rubber down! Our first stop for the day was to be the Masaya Volcano, which is in the largest National Park in Nicaragua. It meant that the route would take us very close to Managua, a very large city and we much prefer to stay away from large cities, particularly after the Guadalajara experience. It had rained the night before, in fact the rain had been next level downpours, but it hadn’t helped to keep the humidity and the heat at bay, we were still pretty warm. So, when we ended up riding through the outskirts of Managua in ridiculous traffic with smoke vomiting buses and crazy drivers, and pulled up at the entrance to the National Park to find that it was closed, we were not very pleased. No reason that we could see, other than the Park was closed. It would have been ok if there wasn’t so much cloud cover as we still couldn’t see the bloody volcano. We still have to see a full volcano on this trip, which is bonkers. Not much you can do about a closed National Park or low cloud cover, so we pressed on for a little spot called La Virgen, where we would be on the shore of Lago Cocibolca, a massive inland lake. We made good time, in fact at 1 point we were pulled over by the cops for speeding. As we couldn’t really understand the telling off that the officer was giving us, and we could see his frustration growing as we didn’t understand his rant in Spanish, he ended up just letting us go with a warning, we think! Further down the road, we pulled off so that we could see the lake. We also only had about 20 minutes ride to San Juan del Sur, so we found a little bar/restaurant with a few fellas watching the boxing on a really crappy TV with shit signal. They explained that the bar wasn’t opened, but Jorik did some smooth talking, and we got a couple of cans of Tona, the local beer. It was a spot that looked like it had potential, but there were a lot of wind turbines about, which also suggested it got really windy. The trees looked pretty windswept and the whole place looked like you would be fighting a losing battle to try to keep it maintained to a high standard. It was cool, but just a bit blown out! Whilst finishing off our beers, a tonne of tourists arrived on a bus and flooded down to the beach, so we were glad we got some pictures before they arrived. The bar didn’t open for them, and once they left, we jumped on the bikes and headed for San Juan del Sur. We were aiming for a hostel called Pachamama, which our friend Louise had recommended. But as per our standard procedure, we pulled up at a bar on the beach and had a swifty whilst checking the map and asking for local advice. It looked like Pachamama was a good recommendation and as the hostel was just around the corner, we jumped back on the girls and headed over once we had finished our drinks. It was a great hostel, but we were back in a dorm with 6 beds, although there were only 4 of us in there. Of course, we completely took over all the space in the cramped dorm and luckily the other 2 lads were happy enough about sharing with a couple of old fellas. It turns out that on a Monday, the bar at Pachamama is closed. In fact, the whole town of San Juan del Sur is pretty quiet on a Monday. Sunday is Funday in San Juan del Sur so the few people we did meet, were all pretty much recovering from the night before. We met 2 young English lads from Reading, Will and Luigi, who have been mates since about 6 years old and are travelling through the Americas on a jolly. Will is having a massive trip from November until October, pretty much a year off and started out in Peru (I think). His mate, Luigi, has only been travelling for about a month, but should see them through for the next couple of months. Nice lads and we had a lot of fun with them. So much so, that Luigi, in a rather drunken endeavour, climbed on Jules and then fell off, and Jules knocked into Cassy, and snapped the jerry can bracket. The last remaining fixed jerry can bracket on the crappy jerry cans. it wasn’t a big deal and we had it strapped up in no time. However, Luigi had cut his toe when he fell off and pissed blood all over the bar area in the hostel where we had parked our bikes. San Juan del Sur was a great little town and a great call to stop in there before pushing on for the border the next day.

Day 33 - Casa Vieja Hotel, San Lorenzo

After the nightmare that was the border crossing into Honduras, and Orlando’s warnings of how much stricter Nicaragua would be with regards to having the appropriate paperwork, we had also done some research the evening before and there is a hard and fast rule about NO DRONES in Nicaragua. It was a daunting challenge in front of us. We had discussed shipping the drone back to the Sates, on to Costa Rica, or even just leaving it in the hotel. However, we decided that the worst that could probably happen if we get caught with it, is that it gets confiscated, and we lose the drone. Decision made, we decided that we would stop a little short of the border crossing and then stash the drone in the rear of Jorik’s jacket, and I would put the controller in my riding trousers pocket. It was still a good hour and half to 2 hours to get to the border, but this time we were a little savvier and we were not taking shit from hustlers. Orlando, the thieving bastard, had told us to look out for a guy called Jorge. Sure enough, a guy called Jorge was there waiting for us at 10:30, when we said to Orlando we would be arriving. Jorik gave him an earful very quickly when he mentioned that it would be US$300 to get is through with no problems. We were not falling for that bollox again and after some strong words, the cost was all of a sudden US$200 for both of us. still, we told them all to bugger off and that we could get through the Honduran side of the border with no problem. I was more worried about the Nicaraguan side of the crossing. Sure enough, it didn’t take long to get through the Honduran side, they had had all they are getting from us, so it was with very little sorrow that we left Honduras after just 1 single night and moved on towards the Nicaraguan side of the crossing. It was hot, frigging hot and we were drenched in sweat, but we had been told not to mess with the Nicaraguan guards and to ride with our helmets and jackets on. So, after only about 20 minutes to pass through the Honduran side, we rode the short distance to the Nicaraguan side, with another chap called Joseph on his bicycle following us. We thought we had made it clear that we would try on our own to pass through the border, but this guy clearly didn’t get the message. However, he turned out to be quite helpful. Whilst the crossing took some time, and we were questioned about having a drone, which we casually suggested was not the case, nothing to see here, move on! It took a while to pass through the various sections, but there was aircon in most of the different spaces, and they definitely made us take all our stuff off the bikes and pass them through the x-ray machine. However, they didn’t take our jackets or my trousers, so we sailed through the Aduana (customs) with the drone on us. When we pulled up to the border control to park, there was a massive UNIMOG parked up with Montana plates on it. It was an absolute beast, very cool truck. We didn’t really chat with the couple that were driving it as we were in different parts of the process getting through the border. We also met 3 lads from Equator who are riding north to Alaska. I say lads, but I think they were probably the same ages as us. However, they had 2 x BWM 1200 GS and a Yamaha Super Tenere. Massive bikes compared to ours and about 3 or maybe 4 times the cost. We had a good chat with them, but the process demanded that we move on, so we exchanged details and then finally got sorted and allowed to pass into Nicaragua. We were aiming for the town of Leon, about 2 hours ride, which should be a breeze, but it had taken about 2 hours to get through the border. And of course, we ended up giving Joseph around US$200 and few of our remaining Honduran currency, which he wasn’t chuffed with, but the bastards have had enough cash from us. We only had US$20 on us in local currency after the second fleecing. After passing hundreds of trucks that were queuing up to go across the border in the opposite direction, we needed to stop and get some fluids in. It was seriously hot. As such, we pulled up at a roadside restaurant and had a coke and some water to cool down and shoot a quick video as we were chuffed to bits that we had made through, even if it did cost us a shed load of money, again. The ride towards the town of Leon was not great, but it was good to be in another country. After slipping through Honduras in only a single day, we were ticking off border crossings pretty regularly, and it was great to be in another new country, another 1 that even Jorik hasn’t visited before. We had booked a hotel called Casa Abierto, which means ‘Open House’ and we were looking forward to getting out of our sweaty gear, chilling for a bit and checking out the town of Leon. The hotel had a great pool, and as it was a Sunday, the pool and the restaurant were open to the public. It was great to see people enjoying the great space in a relaxed atmosphere. Very nice little spot. Big mosquitoes, but you can’t have everything I suppose! We went into town to look around the really cool streets and buildings. We had some food from a street vendor van and then walked along the streets to look at the photos that they have installed of the war heroes from the revolution. We saw Che Guvara and Emiliano Zapata’s contributions. I highly recommend a visit to Leon if you find yourself in this part of the world, but don’t go too far out of your way to visit Nicaragua.

Day 32 - Rancho Lokoo Resort, El Zonte

We were up early and had breakfast at the hotel, which was essentially a bowl of fruit and a cup of coffee. We did a quick video to say how much we had enjoyed our time in El Salvador and in particular, in El Zonte, and then loaded the bikes up and were on the road by 09:30am. We had opted for the more interesting route along as much of the coastline as we could. It was still ridiculously hot and humid, and it really took it out of us. There were plenty of breaks for drinks and to top up water as we pressed on towards the east and the border crossing. As we were nearing a little town call El Cuco, which took us up into a mountain range, right next to the coast, we passed 3 bicycle riders that were very slowly climbing the steep inclines. I didn’t envy them at all. Riding a bicycle in the heat and humidity must have been horrendous and certainly not something that I would ever do. We passed them and waved them along to wish them good luck, and then pulled over a few minutes later at a little roadside café arrangement for a coke. We had finished up and were just getting back on the bikes to carry on towards La Union and then the border, when the 1st bike came slowly trundling along up the hill. He was travelling seriously slowly, but moving forward so I wished him well and told him to keep pressing on as he went past me. A few minutes later, the other 2 bikes came slowly up the hill. A young lady was 1 of the riders and she stopped to say that she had seen the “Keep Tahoe Blue” sticker on the back of Jules and was wondering if we were from there. Of course, Jorik was straight in there with the chat and explained that we had been on the road for about a month and had a few more weeks to go until we finished the trip in Panama City. She mentioned that they had been in Tahoe in November last year, so it has taken them over 6 months to reach the point that we are at. That is just hectic and hats (helmets) off to them for taking on such a huge challenge. It’s not for me. The route didn’t take us into La Union itself, we could have gone in, but then we would have had to turn around and do the same road to get back to the main highway towards the border at El Amatillo. So, we pressed on for the border. It was pretty chaotic once we arrived, loads of trucks and people everywhere causing a right mess. We were directly along a route for vehicles, but then told we had to go into another area until we got out Temporary Import Licence (TIP) sorted, which we had already done. Once that was established, we then went through immigration with relative ease, although the line was very long, and it was just so hot and sticky. My shirt was soaked through pretty much constantly and we were sucking back water as fast as we could get our hands on it. The El Salvadorian side was straight forward, but a fixer dude had easily spotted us and said that he could help us out to get across and into Honduras. We were a little reluctant to get help as it should be straight forward, but there are so few instructions and as we needed to get copies of passport stamps, and various other things sorted, we simply caved and let the guy help us get across the El Salvadorian side with relative ease. However, when we pulled up on the Honduran side of the border, things went to absolute shit. A guy called Orlando met us where we pulled up the bikes. He was very friendly, and his English was spot on as he told us that he had lived in the States for a few years. He really was a very personable chap, but he lulled us into a false sense of security. He had a bunch of other guys with him and told us to give him our paperwork and that he would sort out the fumigations for the bikes, the various stamps and we just needed to give him the appropriate copies, which we had with us. We mentioned that I did not have my original title with us, but we did have a digital copy on the phone as my original had been damaged and then lost in Guatemala. A small misdirection, when in actual fact I did have the original title, but it was still back in Lake Tahoe. Orlando jumped on this bit of information and explained that this was not ‘Bueno’, very bad in fact and that I may have to turn around and wait until I got the original title sent across from the States. For info, they didn’t even look at Jorik’s original title, just took copies of everything and then disappeared with all our papers whilst we went to the immigration office to get our passports stamped. We only paid US$3 each to get into Honduras, but Orlando was insistent that it would cost about US$70 each for the bikes and the fact that I didn’t have my original title would mean they would have to bribe 3 different officials so that no questions were asked. This was supposedly going to cost US$100 for each official, plus the US$140 for the 2 bikes, plus the tip for the 3 chaps helping us out. it took about an hour, but then Orlando and his band of crooks came back to us to say that it was all sorted, they had all the paperwork, including the appropriate signatures and that they had convinced the 3 border guards that they only needed US$40 each, so a total of US$120. With the tip added in, we were fleeced for a total of US$300 to enter Honduras for the grand total of 1 night. It also happened to be pretty much exactly how many US dollars we had on us. It was like they could smell the notes in our wallets, and I even had US$50 stashed away in a jacket pocket for an emergency. They sniffed that out as well. Bastards. Having taken nearly 3 hours to get through the border in the ridiculous heat, and having been fleeced by the hustlers, we still had an hour’s ride ahead of us to get to our destination. We had found a hotel called the Casa Vieja online, which didn’t look great, but there was an adventure bike parked outside the hotel in the google photos online, so we figured that it might well be a spot that bikers stop at as they pass through the area. The ride was not particularly spectacular. I got the impression that the people try to look after their properties a bit better than in previous countries, the walls were generally of the same colour paint, the roofs were a little more complete, and the gardens looked like they were tended a little more regularly. I suppose I was looking for positives after the horrendous border crossing experience, but when we stopped and Jorik and I were chatting about the road into San Lorenzo, he made the point that he felt that Honduras was just as crap, if not worse than all the other countries we had been through to date. Regardless, Honduras was not filling us with excitement and even if I was trying to find positives, when I reflected on the route in, Jorik was probably right, it was just as shit. San Lorenzo itself is also not great. The streets are filthy, there was a pretty bad smell through a lot of the roads that we passed along in order to get to our hotel, which was not in an ideal location. When we arrived, a young lad came out to us and was generally helpful and showed us to our room, which had 1 large bed and a single bed. Jorik kindly offered up the large bed as I still must sleep diagonally to have any chance of my feet being in the bed when I sleep. We needed to get a copy of my Title printed. Melody had sent it to Jorik at the border so that I had a digital copy, but after Orlando and his mates cleaned us out, having a copy would be better than nothing at all when we crossed the border from Honduras into Nicaragua the next day. Orlando reckoned that the Nicaraguan border guards would be even more diligent in their review of our papers and that they would insist on all documents being original, including the Title. He even suspected that we would get turned around and have to head back through Honduras to El Salvador or Guatemala as they were so strict. However, we weren’t to worry as he had a mate who could help us when we got to the Nicaraguan border. Whatever, dickhead! So, with our mission of getting a hard copy of the Title, we needed to draw more cash (obviously, as we had been cleaned out), and for an opportunity to explore San Lorenzo, we headed out onto the streets. We didn’t go far as the town doesn’t have much to offer. We pulled into a little restaurant/bar arrangement with a swimming pool that was right next door to our hotel, but within about 2 minutes of sitting down, the mosquitos started on our ankles and quickly swarmed us. It was too unpleasant to hang around so we headed back to the hotel to see if we could get some food. When we had checked in, the young lad had explained that breakfast was included, but as the next day was Mother’s Day, it was declared a public holiday, even though it was a Sunday, and that the kitchen would be closed. That was a bit odd, but he did explain that we could offset the cost of the breakfast on our dinner, so it was a no-brainer to have dinner at the hotel. We met the owner, who was also the owner of the same adventure bike parked outside the hotel in the photos on Google. It was still there, but under a tarp. It was a Chinese knock-off 350cc that I can’t remember what the brand was. It was pretty plastic looking, but he was chuffed to bits that some proper adventure bikes had arrived at his hotel. He was in the restaurant when we had dinner and he was very friendly, but in the end only knocked off about a third of our food bill, which by the way, was not the greatest steak sandwich I have ever had. The meat was like leather. We retired early as it was clear that no matter what happened, we were getting the hell out of Honduras as quick as we could.

Day 31 - Beach Break Hotel, El Zonte

We had already decided to spend the day in El Zonte rather than head on to another location in El Salvador. We could make the border the next day with ease and the town we had originally located for our next stop, La Union, looked very nice, but we had our new friends to consider, and the beach break hotel was very nice, even if it was a US$100 a night. We spent a lazy morning doing some admin, catching up on blogs, video editing, and phone calls back home. It was great not to be under pressure to travel for a change, but it meant that we had the pressures of updating everything. I was in the pool by about 10:00 as it was just so hot and humid, it felt like it really needed to rain, but it just didn’t come. Gary and Robyn told us loads about their plans for setting up their new business in El Salvador. They are also very much into bitcoin, which it turns out is legal tender in El Salvador. Gary is pretty clued up on it and let us in on a ridiculous amount of information, too much to process, but very interesting stuff. Robyn gave me a book that is apparently a “dummies guide to bitcoin” that was published in El Salvador, and she reckons will make complete sense once I have been through it. Gary also told us about how much the president of El Salvador has done and is doing to clean up the country and bring prosperity to it. Bitcoin is a big part of that, although I still have some way to go to even have half a chance of understanding it. It got to about 11:30 and I knew we had only paid for 1 night, so I wanted to lock in the 2nd night. I climbed out the pool and went to chat to the reception, who informed me that not only was our room booked from 12:00, but they had absolutely no availability whatsoever. Once again, Gary and Robyn came to the rescue and informed us that they had stayed at another place about 3 doors down called the Rancho lokoo Resort. So, we scrambled ourselves together, popped down the street, and were able to get booked in, again for US$100 for the night. Whilst El Salvador is very nice, it is a bit dear for accommodation! We were only going to be in the country for 2 nights, and our new mates paid for dinner the night before, so hey ho! Once we got ourselves moved across the street and 3 doors down, Gary and Robyn had stuff to do for their land purchase, so Jorik and I jumped on the bikes to top up with fuel, get some cash (again), and have a look at El Tunco. Within about 5 miles of leaving El Zonte, we saw loads, and loads of transporter vans and buses for the surfing comp. there were probably 50, if not more, all with different country flags on the windscreens. Some countries had more vans, but there were loads of them. As we turned off the main road to enter El Tunco, which has a one-way system through the town, we had to pay US$1 to enter. For info, El Salvador no longer has its own currency. They use the US$, which helps to prevent fraud or counterfeiting, or something. Anyway, it was US$1 each to enter the town, and we had to pay US$3 each to park in the town, which we did so we could have a wonder around. A very cool little town, but also very commercial with loads of surf shops, clothing shops, restaurants, hotels and hostels. It was also heaving, absolutely rammed with people. We grabbed a beer and a sandwich and watched the mass of people moving about around the beachfront. We walked along the beach, stopping here and there, watched a bit of the surfing, even saw a couple of saffa girls in their springbok surf shirts and wished them well in the comp. They probably thought to themselves, “who are these old grommets”.

We spent a couple of hours on the beach and watched some surfing and then headed back to El Zonte. Back at the Rancho lokoo, we caught up on some admin, popped down to the beach for a swim, and then planned to meet our new friends at the restaurant on the beach for happy hour. We ended up having such a good evening with them, that we went back to the hotel that we had stayed at the night before, had dinner and drinks with them, which they again paid for (cheeky), and then said our goodbyes as we wanted to be on the road early the next morning to accommodate extra time for the border crossing into Honduras.

Day 30 - Hotel Ponderosa del Luis, Antigua Guatemala

The border with El Salvador would be the big challenge for us today. The slight hangover and ridiculous humidity were just adding to the pressures of a big day in front of us. We got a relatively early start, all things considered, and headed south, towards the border crossing town of Ciudad Pedro Alvarado. We saw the base of a large volcano on the route, but as the clouds were covering the top of it, we didn’t even bother to stop and take any pictures. Whilst I wasn’t expecting too much of a mission at the border, it was bonkers hot and humid, and we were sweating buckets as soon as we pulled all the gear on. The route to the border was not very exciting, a lot of highways and the queues of trucks as we neared the border town was crazy. As we approached the border, we pulled into a gas station, and I mentioned to Jorik that I had lost 5th gear a couple of times whilst riding. I think the first time was back in Mexico where it just slipped out, not into neutral, just out of gear. Each time I had grabbed the clutch and then popped it down to 4th and then back up to 5th, and it was fine. But it made me think that something might be amiss. It happened on the way to the border a couple of times. I have been a bit sceptical about going into El Salvador as the press hasn’t given it a particularly good review in the past. I appreciate that things change, and our research had told us that it should be fine. I was more concerned about Honduras, and we still have to go through El Salvador to get there. As luck would have it, the border crossing was super easy and whilst it did take about an hour, getting through was not too much of a drama. The guards at the border were actually very helpful and directed us to the stops along the way. Once into El Salvador, I was surprised by the quality of the roads. We did travel on the main road and to be fair, El Salvador is not a very big country, but the single carriageway route was in good condition and plenty wide for the most part. The scenery was great and very lush. We were aiming for a surf town called El Tunco, which had been a spot that some people ahead of us had recommended. We got some great information on the border crossing from their blog, so if they suggested that El Tunco was a good town to check out, it would do for us. About an hour, maybe less, outside of El Tunco, we were riding along a gorgeous coast road and came around a bend to be confronted with a ‘shack bar’ on the side of the road overlooking the coastline from a position on a cliffside, it was super cool. We both said into our comms at the same time “that will do nicely for a beer break!”. We pulled over where there was a little orange Honda NAVI parked up, which is kind of like a scooter. We climbed off the bikes, pretty knackered after a long day with very little to eat, a border crossing which is always a bit tedious, and the heat and humidity was draining, peeled off our riding gear, and climbed the steps to the terrace. There was a couple on the phone video calling what we assumed was their family. As there was nobody else in the place, except for the lady that worked there, and they were on the phone in the open, it seemed a bit intrusive for us to be listening in. When they finished chatting on the phone, they had clearly heard us talking, and the lady turned to Jorik and asked him where he was from as she had clocked the South African accents. It turns out she is originally from Zimbabwe, currently lives in Mackay, north of Brisbane, Australia, but her partner, Gary, and her are in the process of buying a 6,000sqm plot of land near El Tunco to set up and run a new business from. They will be moving from Australia to El Salvador permanently. I had to tip my hat (helmet) and acknowledge that it was a pretty gutsy statement to make. We ended up having a great chat with them and when we asked what El Tunco was like, they mentioned that there was a Junior World Championship Surfing Tournament on, and it was crazy in El Tunco. They were staying at a great spot in El Zonte, a little town a few miles before El Tunco, and that they were pretty sure that the hotel would have a room with 2 beds. So, we agreed to follow them back to the hotel, albeit very slowly as the little orange Honda NAVI was carrying both of them. We gave the NAVI a head start whilst we put all our gear back on. There was something seriously going on with changing gears and I mentioned to Jorik that when we got into the hotel, first job must be to check the adjustment on the clutch. As we approached El Zonte, a relatively small town, certainly smaller than El Tunco (my gear changes were a real problem), signs for Surf City were popping up along the route, which I figured must be to do with the surfing comp. we pulled off the main road, followed the NAVI to the Beach Break Hotel and Sports Bar. As I was parking, I completely lost all access to my gears and only had 1st gear. No neutral, nothing. I did manage to park it, but it was a bit of joke and sure enough, the clutch adjustment nuts were completely loose and just needed a quick adjustment to sort out the problem, which subsequently is no longer a problem. The hotel had a twin room for us, a very nice room, and a great hotel with not 1 but 2 swimming pools. It did cost us a US$100, which is way outside our budget, but we had really enjoyed meeting Gary and Robyn and it kind of seemed like it was one of those chance meetings that if you don’t do something about it, you won’t get the full benefit of the opportunity. So, we booked in, jumped in the pool and got chatting to our new friends over a few bevvies in the pool. Not a bad afternoon after a long ride. It was happy hour at a beach bar, so we popped along for sundowners and a spot of dinner. Our conversation with Gary and Robyn was great, and they very kindly paid for our dinner, which was completely unnecessary, but we were very grateful for.  We then headed back to the hotel and jumped back in the pool with  few more beers to end our first evening in El Salvador, a great country.

Day 29 - Hotel Casa Texel, Panajachel

The plan for the day was to hit up a Mayan ruin called Iximche. It was a little over an hour’s ride from Panajachel, and from there we were aiming from Antigua Guatemala, a further hour, or maybe an hour and half ride from the ruins. So, the riding wasn’t going to be too much of a strain today. We had the very good breakfast at the hotel, different from the day before as the choice was too much to resist, and then got ourselves geared up and ready to depart. We were on the road by 10:00am and climbing the hills out of Panajachel towards the ruins. There are loads of volcanoes around the lake, and whilst we could see hints of these from the shape of the base of the mountains, the cloud cover was preventing us from seeing the tops of the volcanoes, so we could only imagine what they were like. We did discuss stopping to the get some footage, but as it would have been a bit pointless (no pun intended), we decided to press on for the ruins. The roads were great with lots of twisties, but it was clearly evident that the way they deal with rubbish in Guatemala is they find a steep cliff on the side of the road and just empty truckloads of rubbish straight over the side of the cliffs. Not a particularly good way of dealing with rubbish, but I suppose they have bigger issues to worry about than looking after the environment. It also meant that there were loads of stray dogs just cruising around in the weirdest of places. Dogs would be walking around on the verges, and you had to keep your wits about you to avoid hitting them, not to mention the potholes that you also have to be aware of. The roads were pretty good, but there were still some pretty substantial potholes. About 20 minutes away from the ruins at Iximche, we pulled over to try to get some drone footage whilst riding through the mountain passes. There were 2 combis kitted out for overland travel from Brazil. It looked like they were having some engine trouble, but they weren’t particularly engaging, so we left them to it. We found a great spot to do our shoot and whilst Jorik was pulling the drone out for some footage, I headed back down the road we had just travelled to give him a chance to get the drone up and running so that I could come back around. As the coms don’t work at a distance of more than about 500m, maybe 1km, I had to gauge how long it would take for the drone to be launched. I gave it plenty of time, so as to avoid having to do the run again and go back down the road. However, when I got to the top of the hill where Jorik was setting up, it was clear that there was an issue with the drone as Jorik was spinning around trying to get the GPS to engage. Anyway, long story short, no drone footage for us in the mountains on the way to Iximche. We pulled up to the ruins, which all looks very organised. We were charged Qs50 each to enter, which is not too bad. We decided not to go with a guide as it would just cost more money to be told a load of stuff that we could probably look up on the internet anyway. I have to admit, I was a bit underwhelmed by the ruins. They were pretty cool, but not as big as I may have hoped for. They had all the ceremonial temples, but they were not very high, they had the alter where I am sure the dude of the time, Kukulkan, or whom every, would sacrifice people, but the experience was just a bit average. We didn’t spend too long there as it only took about 45 minutes to walk around the whole site, and then got back on the road heading for Antigua Guatemala.

We plugged in the destination of a hostel that we had found online, which took us along a pretty substantial highway, which was not a lot of fun to ride. We actually missed our turn off and ended up having to do a big loop around, but it ended up taking us down a great road into Antigua Guatemala, so it wasn’t all bad. Arriving in the town, it is clearly very old, and the main town has cobbled streets, which was hell for the bikes and we had to travel very slowly to avoid rattling the hell out of our bikes. We pulled up at the hostel, but they were fully booked. It looked a shame as the hostel looked like it had a pool and would be a fun place to hang out for the night, even if we are about twice the age of the average guest. I still feel like I am a youngster but have to admit I certainly don’t look like a youngster anymore. In fact, Jorik is getting a load of laughs out of referring to me as his dad, dick! The hostel recommended another location down the street that we could try, so we jumped back on the bikes and headed further into the town. Unfortunately, the second location was also fully booked, but they mentioned a sister hotel that they operate that they had checked and there was a room available with twin beds for us there. So, third time lucky, we got ourselves booked in, unloaded, took a quick shower as there was no pool at this location, and then went into town to check it out. We had spotted a local bar next door to the hotel that had a happy hour for Qs10 for a local beer, about US$1. So, to start our adventure in Antigua Guatemala, we pulled into this little dive bar, which was actually very cool, and had a couple of very cheap local beers. It was a cool spot, and we were sure to be back later that evening as it had cool music and a great vibe. The town was cool, very authentic and there were actually a lot of foreigners in town, so it was clear that this town was on the backpacker circuit. We had a great dinner at a little restaurant, steak sandwich, probably the best steak sandwich I have had all trip. Satisfied with our dinner, we headed back to the dive bar near the hotel to see if we could enjoy a few beers and maybe meet some people. We haven’t managed to engage and meet people nearly as much as we were hoping to do on this trip, so an opportunity to chat about the Enfields Overland experience, and just generally have some down time, was a big attraction. We met a young Mexican lad called Christian, who is from an area to the immediate south of Monterey, which I established is cowboy country, sorry caballero country. We haven’t travelled through this region of Mexico, but having seen how Mexico differs from place to place, it just drives it home that Mexico is so vast and so massive, and I have yet to see so much of it. Christian is a social media guy who promotes and creates content. Jorik tried hard to recruit him to our cause, but I suspect we might not hear from him again. We also met a really cool Indian chap called Ravi. He works as an IT support guy in America and was very keen on the trip. He was over in Antigua Guatemala on his annual holiday, just checking it out as he heard it was a cool place to visit. He is not wrong; Antigua Guatemala is a very cool town and I am glad we made the effort to check it out. We had a bit of a late night, which could easily have gotten much later as I was enjoying myself a lot. However, we had to ride the next day, so we called it a night before it got too late and headed back to the hotel, which was just next door, result.

Day 28 - Hotel Casa Texel, Panajachel

Knowing that we had the day to sort the bikes, pick up laundry and check out the lake, we were able to have a bit of lie-in. We still got up at around 07:00am as our body clocks have become accustomed to waking up early, regardless of the fact that we didn’t need to. Breakfast was included at the hotel, which was very good. A great choice of different dishes, that were all very good. Luckily, we have 2 days to try out different dishes. The Guatemalan coffee was exceptional, the best we have had on the trip so far. I am usually a pretty basic coffee person and at home I drink instant coffee as that is what I like. But so far, the coffee in Mexico has not been great, unless it has been instant. But here in Guatemala, they do proper coffee very well and I was not shy to partake in quite a few cops over breakfast.

Breakfast completed, we set to work on sorting out the brakes. As Cassy’s brakes were by far the worst, and again there was absolutely nothing when I tried them, she would get the full treatment first. We had the replacement screws so all we needed to do was get the damaged screws out so that we could access the master cylinder to not only top up the brake fluid, but so that we could check for bubbles and drain out any air that might have got into the system. The plan was for Jorik to apply maximum downward pressure to the screwdriver, whilst I used a No 12 spanner to twist the screwdriver and undo the problem screw. It didn’t really work, and it looked like we were definitely going to strip the screw head. If we did this, the next option might be to have the damaged screw drilled out, which was way beyond our tools and as such, would mean finding a moto mechanic in the village to help out. It was super frustrating as we didn’t think that we had overtightened the screws when we topped up the brake fluid back in Jocotepec. I gave it one last go on my own and just managed to get it loose, which was a great result. We then swapped out the brake pads for new pads, which we had with us. The old pads were not too bad, but there was clearly some ware on them and replacing them at this stage, over halfway through the trip, would mean that we would not only have plenty of pads left by the end, but we could also ditch the old pads, thus carrying less spares and weight. It isn’t a lot of weight, but I suppose everything helps. We then proceeded to bleed the brakes, and after watching a few YouTube videos to make sure we were actually doing the right thing, we didn’t manage to get a nice clean run of spare fluid through the system. Every time we would pump the brakes, air would come out the top, but very little fluid would come out the bottom through the nipple. Still, we tried a number of times and as there were a few little bubbles that came out of the very limited fluid that passed through the inspection tube, we decided to just top up the fluid in the master cylinder and tighten everything up and do a test ride to see how the brakes handled. Next, we did the same to Jules, with pretty much the same results, but got everything sorted out so that we could go for a test ride. Following our meeting with Mike at the restaurant the evening before, we decided to go for a ride to the nearby town of Santa Cruz la Laguna, which would take us through the hills and certainly give the brakes a good test. We looked up a route on Jorik’s app on his phone, which suggested it would take about an hour to reach the town. When I checked it on google maps, it suggested it was 1 hour 45 minutes, but that would take us all the way back up the mountain to the main road, then drop us down into the village. As we are actually on an adventure motorcycle trip, we decided to take the shorter route as we expected it might throw up a few dirt tracks that the locals use and besides, that is what these bikes are supposed to be used for. So, with little gear on the bikes, we still had the panniers and the top boxes on, but no extra weight, we put on our trainers and helmets and headed out. The clouds were still pretty low, which gave a very hazy feel to the day, and we didn’t even think about sunscreen as it was almost overcast. Neither did we think about riding gear, just shorts, t-shirts, trainers and helmets. The first stretch was perfectly fine, in fact riding up the mountain pass back towards the main road, took us right past an incredible waterfall that we had completely missed the day before on the ride into town. We had to pull over and have a closer look and it was really quite spectacular. It also gave us a great opportunity to look down on the town of Panajachel, which was some distance below us as the pass was exceptionally steep. Having got some great footage, we then pressed on for Santa Cruz la Laguna. The sat nav took us along a stretch of road that quickly become less than desirable for bikes. The tarmac stopped as we left the main built-up area and whilst it was initially block paved, this turned to gravel for sections, which were then block paved through areas where people lived in little houses adjacent to the track. We ended up getting to the end of the road we had taken as we came out to a big sports pitch, which was clearly the end of the track. It was pretty as the pitch was overlooked by the huge mountains, but we were still very high up and way off from the water. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere so we back tracked and found the very sharp turn off that the sat nav suggested we should take. It looked pretty sketchy and was a mix of gravel and stones, but nothing sold. Having figured that we had got this far, we might as well give it a go. However, after about 15 minutes and some ridiculously steep bends and sections, we pulled the plug. It was just getting too dangerous and way beyond our experience, the capability of the bikes, and the fact that we were riding in shorts and t-shirts, didn’t leave me with a sense of comfort. So, we turned around, very carefully, and headed back up these steep gravel tracks to retrace our steps back to the hotel. One thing that was agreed unanimously, we had thoroughly tested the brakes and they were working fun, so I suppose it was a good result. We did end up getting quite sunburnt as we should have realised that even if there is cloud cover, we should have piled on the sunscreen. Back in town, we grabbed our laundry, clean laundry is always a highlight, and headed down to the lake for a couple of drinks and potentially a swim. The water wasn’t clean so I decided not to go in, and I think Jorik changed his mind when he saw just how much crap there was in the water, not to mention what you can’t see, which scares me more than the bits of plastic and crap floating in the water. It is very pretty, but just not very clean. We had a great experience with a local lady who was selling these beautiful woven products. Blankets, throws and scarves. They really were very well made, and she was insistent that she had made them by hand. They were really amazing, but I tried to explain that I didn’t really have space to be carrying that sort of thing all the way to Panama City and then back to the USA, before taking it back to the UK for Siobhan. Jorik was not as strong as me and caved and purchased a scarf for melody. We had dinner at a small restaurant, which was average, and the retired for the evening early as the next day would see us heading for some local Mayan ruins and from the pictures we had seen, I was excited to spend a couple of hours walking through them as I haven’t seen ruins like these before and I didn’t want to limit our time there, which would mean a long day as we still wanted to cover distance to get to Antigua Guatemala, the historic capital of the country.

Day 27 - Hotel Media Luna, Ciudad Cuauhtemoc

The border opened at 08:00am so we were up and ready to jump on the bikes 5 minutes before it opened. We still had the issue with the brakes to resolve and when I got on my bike to head to the boarder control, I had nothing. Absolutely no front brakes at all. There is just no way that it is safe to ride a bike with no front brakes, so I had a little freak out and had to rely on the back brake to get me down the steep driveway from the hotel, down the hill to the main road, and over to the border control. A very unnerving experience and it left me pretty worried that we might get through the border control and into Guatemala, but I would have no brakes and therefore we would need to fix the issue before pressing on. I contemplated staying in Mexico as I suspect that the mechanics in Mexico might be better than the mechanics in Guatemala, mind you, it is not like we were near a substantial town in Mexico anyway. So, following my rather hairy ride the 200’ish metres from the hotel to the border control with no brakes, and following the various inspections and checks that the Mexican officials made, I started pumping the front brakes quite a bit to see if I could get them to bite. Sure enough, it seemed to do the job and I felt a little more confident to push on. However, we really need to get the brakes sorted ASAP. The border officials on the Guatemalan side were very friendly and helpful and we did have to pass through a number of steps. First they fumigated the bikes by spraying some crap all over them. I commented to Jorik that it was probably the cleanest the bikes have been since leaving South Lake Tahoe, when in reality, they had just had a load of insecticide, or something similar sprayed all over them. Then we had to go through vehicle inspection and immigration, which came with a charge of Qs160. A Quetzales is currently worth about 7.8 to the US dollar, but we got offered 4 at the border. However, we had to pay the Qs160 at the bank and then return to the immigration guys with the receipt. This is why we stayed in Mexico for an additional night as we expected that the bank would be closed on a Sunday. Having sorted out the various steps to get through the border and enter into Guatemala, we rode through the little town of La Mesilla, which was bonkers. The main street was lined with loads and loads of little shops and stalls, leaving a very narrow width for the road. All manner of vehicles, people, animals, and just general chaos was all around us, but we were finally out of Mexico, which is gobsmackingly huge. We pulled over to a little spot at the top of the town that looked down to the border crossing to do a quick video to acknowledge a good crossing and I suppose we were pleased that the whole thing only took about an hour to sort out both sides of the border. It was also pretty reasonable in terms of the costs. We had just jumped back on the bikes and were leaving the main settlement when I spotted a chap working on a load of really wrecked bikes. So, I pulled over and asked if he could spare 2 screws for the master cylinder(s). He rummaged around in his junk pile and come up with an old cylinder that he then stripped the screws of and just handed them over. He didn’t ask for, nor did he want any cash for helping us out, so I gave him some stickers and he was made up. Result, we now had the missing part to sort the brakes out. We were aiming for a little town called Panajachel, which is on the northern shore of Lake Atitlan. It was still around 140 miles for us to travel and being in the mountains, we knew it wasn’t going to be an easy or short ride, particularly as we were keen to make it to Panajachel so that we could have the following day off to explore the lake and the surrounding areas. Jorik had passed through there on his trip in ’95 and highly recommended it, so we would be able to sort the brakes in the morning, and then have some time off to check out the area. Some of the riding through the mountains was simply fantastic. However, the condition of the road was super varied. We had beautiful tarmac for a lot of the route, but on occasion, we would come round a corner and with practically no warning, suddenly be on a gravel road. The “bumpos” from Mexico were still about, but not as severe. My theory is that the “bumpos” and the gravel sections that are occasionally in place are to ensure vehicle speeds are kept low, but also so that the local people get more of an opportunity to sell their wares, cold drinks, food, etc. The weather had been odd and the higher we climbed, it got cooler, but there was a hazyness to the sky and on occasion, we found ourselves way up and riding in the clouds. Cassy still doesn’t like going up hills, but we kept a relatively good pace up. The turn off to Panajachel from the main highway was located very high up from the lake level and we started to go down a great road, which was pretty steep in places, but had great twisties. It was a little frustrating at times as we often got stuck behind buses, trucks and cars that have to travel down the pass very slowly, and I was still a little apprehensive about my front brakes, although they had worked pretty well through the day. We were aiming for the lakefront where we expected to find a bar and ask where we might find cheap accommodation. But once we had managed to navigate the one-way streets through the town down to the lake, it was crazy busy with people and it didn’t really look like there was an option to park anywhere, we had ridden past a great looking hotel with a courtyard where we could park the bikes, and then hopefully work on them the next day to do the brakes. The prospect of trying to do the work in the street, did not appeal. So having settled ourselves into the Casa Texel, we went for a walk about town to see what we could see. The lake itself is massive, but we could just about make out the mountains on the other side through the haze. There are loads of volcanoes surrounding the lake, which itself was formed from volcanic activity. There are loads of boats moored up along the shore, a promenade that we walked along, and loads upon loads of restaurants and bars all along the lakefront. We dropped off our weekly laundry load and then took a load off at a great looking spot that had a terrace overlooking the lake and met a chap called Mike, who is from Oregon in the States. He has been in the area for around 10 years and when he was nearing retirement age in the States, he realised he didn’t have much of a pension, didn’t have much in the way of savings, and needed to make a plan. So, he sold a second hand car, purchased some land in a nearby town called San Jose, and has built a number of cabins that he rents out, but he helps out as a barman at the restaurant we were in, as well as playing live music on the weekends at some of the local restaurants and hotels. He was a fountain of information, and we had a couple of beers in the restaurant and then headed into town for some food. One observation from Panajachel is that with all the dogs about, the streets are full of dogshit. There is shit everywhere and I don’t think it is from dogs that people own, rather the countless stray dogs that randomly roam the streets. The restaurant we chose wasn’t great. I had lasagna (I know that we should be eating local cuisine, but I was hungry) and Jorik had ceviche. Mine was average, but Jorik’s was poor. Not a great experience for dinner, so we headed back to the hotel for an early night as we had plenty to do in the morning, what with sorting out the brakes.

Day 26 - Hotel Santa Clara, San Cristobal de las Casas

It had been a noisy night. We were staying right next to the town square and the little town partied until late, right outside our window. The girls were parked up in the street right outside our window, we could see them from our balcony, and bikes had been whipping up and down the street till the wee hours of the morning. It made for an uncomfortable sleep as every time I heard a bike start up, I was listening in case it was one of ours. It wasn’t and we had nothing to worry about, but it did mean an unfitful sleep during the night. Being Sunday and knowing that it would be unlikely that we would make it through the Mexico/Guatemala border crossing as the bank would likely be closed on the Guatemala side, and our research had told us that you needed to make a payment at the bank in order to complete the process of passing through the border, we had decided to head for the border town of Ciudad Cuauhtemoc, which was only about 3 and half hours from San Cristobal. As such, we were in no rush to leave in the morning as we expected that there would be very little to do in the little border town. We had a bit of a lazy morning and only got on the road around 12:00. It was great to relax a bit and not push on first thing, which is our standard arrangement. The ride down to the border town came with the usual “bumpos”, which was starting to get really tiresome. I suppose that they do the job of ensuring that vehicles travel slowly through towns, but they are an absolute pain in the ass. About 10 minutes away from our destination, we were bombing down the highway when I noticed a biker in a service station as we were riding past. It is just one of those things that I noticed, a relatively tall guy (so unlikely to be a Mexican) in riding gear. I couldn’t see his bike as it was behind a pump, but he had clearly heard the bikes coming and was walking towards the road to have a look at who might be coming past. Jorik was riding in front of me so got to see the bike before me and it came over the comms that it was Gregorio, the Scooter Guy. we immediately slammed on anchors and turned around to go and have a chat and say hello. he was super pleased to see us, and it was great catching up again as it had been a few days, and we were eager to hear how he was getting on. He was well, and whilst he had had a few issues with the scooter, it was nothing that he couldn’t fix and get back on the road. His toolbox is right at his feet, and it looked pretty well used, not to mention the fact that his scooter looks a little beat up. He mentioned that he had heard the bikes and was sure that it was us, as the Girls have quite a distinct sound, different from the other motorbikes that you hear. We chatted with him for a bit and explained that we were about to stop for the day at the little border town a few minutes down the road. He was going to press on in Mexico and head for the border to the south, which was still pretty much a full day (if not 2) for him, but he wanted to cross further south into Guatemala. We said our goodbyes and hoped that we would see him further down the road, but I think our routes are going to differ when we cross into Guatemala so it might be that it would be our last encounter with Gregorio. As we were about to head off, he gave us a quick warning that the local police had told him to be aware of the Cartels, which were operating in the area. We had noted that the last few towns or settlements had appeared to be abandoned, which was really odd. Gregorio tends to sleep at police stations and in gardens as he camps whenever he can. It is much cheaper for him and as he is on the road for a very long time, he doesn’t have the same budget that we have. At the last police station, they had welcomed him to pitch his tent to the rear of the station but warned him that he shouldn’t camp out as the Cartels would see that as an opportunity to either steel from him, or worse. With this stark warning fresh in our minds, we pressed on to Ciudad Cuauhtemoc and the hotel we had found on the internet called Media Luna. As we came into the town, a sign jumped out at me that Media Luna was to the right and we needed to turn off. However, when we did turn onto the dirt track, we couldn’t find anywhere called Media Luna. There was no signage for the place. We rode up a steep hill on this dirt track and ended up at a little shop, which was open, but there were still very few people around. We could see the Immigration buildings and the area where vehicles are inspected before they cross the border, so we were definitely in the right place, we just couldn’t see the hotel. We headed back down the hill, did a bit of a ride around, but there was nothing to be seen that looked like a hotel. Whilst we still had the benefit of Jorik’s mobile service, we checked the address of the hotel again and it certainly looked like it was located next to the little shop, but the only building there was securely locked up with a massive gate to the driveway and a second gate near the entrance to the shop. I went in to the shop and asked the lady if Media Luna was next door and if so, was it open. She said it was and asked me to wait whilst she went round the back and obviously found the owner to open up for us. He was very friendly, and we arranged a double room, with aircon (result) for MXN500 for both of us for the night, which is a not too bad. He told us that there was not a lot going on in the little town, but there was a restaurant across the road where we could get some food, but we shouldn’t be out too late and that we were to ensure that the gate was kept closed. Once we had unpacked the bikes, had a quick shower to clear the daily sweat and grime off, we went in search of food. It was only about 6:30pm, but the restaurant had already closed and there was just a local bar open. Well actually it was more like a dingy room with a fridge and a load of what appeared to be Mexican truckers in there sucking back on beers. Not a particularly attractive opportunity for us, so we headed back the other way towards the town and past the Immigration buildings. We found a little street vendor with a hot dog trolley serving a few people but thought we might be able to find something a little more substantial in the town. We didn’t, the town was very quiet. It might have been because it was a Sunday, but it just felt eery that there were so few people around. We headed back to the street vendor and grabbed quite a tasty burger before heading back to the hotel for an early night. The next morning, we would tackle the border crossing.

Day 25 - City Express, Salina Cruz

We were expecting about 5 hours riding to get to San Cristobal de las Casas, and we would pass through Tuxtla Gutierrez, which is the capital of the Chiapas region. What we were not expecting as we climbed in altitude, was how frigging hot it got. The temperature gauge on my bike showed a maximum of 49 degrees centigrade. Jorik has a more accurate thermometer on his keys that went up to 112 Fahrenheit, which is still 44.5 degrees centigrade, so it was damn hot! In addition, we climbed from sea level to a little over 2,200m, so a lot of elevation. We stopped quite a few times to cool off, and to let the girls cool down as we could feel how hot they were getting through our trousers. On one of these little stops in a little town, we headed for the main square to stop for a break. However, when we got to the main square, it was full of tents and makeshift camps and looked like a refugee camp. There were hundreds of people camped out, and it was pretty chaotic. We didn’t stop, but rather headed on towards the exit from the town, before realising that we had pretty much run out of town just beyond the square so pulled up in some shade outside a very crude looking shop arrangement on the side of the road. There were a few lads working on some pretty wrecked bikes and scooters on the next plot so whilst Jorik went to see about some cold drinks, I walked over and tried to explain that I was looking for 2 screws for the front brake master cylinder. I figured that whilst the cylinders themselves might differ in size, I reckon that every master cylinder has the same size screws. Sure enough, they all looked about the same size on the wrecked bikes, but no matter how hard I tried to explain that I wanted the exact size from 1 of the bikes they had there, it appeared that they were all considered to be in working order. Fair enough, they did offer a bunch of alternatives, but they looked like battery screws and not the right size. They also rummaged through the scrap that was simply lying in the ground around their little camp area, but it was a bust. Meanwhile, Jorik had got some cold water, as there was nothing else expect some dodgy local mix of fruit (he thinks) that looked sketchy as hell, and he felt water would be the safer option. There were a few ladies there, nattering amongst themselves, and bunch of little kids who were really cool and came over to look at the bikes. 1 of the ladies asked where we are from and once she realised that we were from South Africa, and I am pretty sure she got it as she hurriedly explained this to the other ladies, who were all suddenly looking at us differently, and started rattling off questions that we didn’t understand. But the kids got way more comfortable and were touching the bikes and looking around. I got a bunch of stickers out and these little kids loved it. They were sticking them up all over and kept coming back for more. We ended up giving them a few and at 1 point, an older guy pulled up on his bike and he also came over and asked for 2 stickers to put on his bike. It was a very cool experience and a good stop. When we left that little spot, heading on towards the mountains, we saw a bunch more people walking down towards the village, and from who knows where as we are still some way away from Guatemala, besides they looked Mexican. It was just odd, and we both commented that it must be a tough place they were coming from if they wanted to get to that pissant town. Whilst the roads we took were pretty good, we even took a toll road towards the end of the day, which saved us at least an hour, it is clear that Cassy does not like to climb. She really struggles going uphill compared with Jules. I suppose that is the modification on Jules kicking in, but I was constantly changing down to get enough revs up to try to pass big trucks and other slow-moving vehicles uphill, then going back up a gear, only to realise that the incline was just too steep, and I had to drop back down again. Not a fun experience and I am sure Cassy cursed me many times for thrashing her. We did eventually arrive in San Crisobal de las Casas after about 6 and half hours in the saddle, longer than expected. Again, the ride into the town was less than impressive, but after riding in the heat through the massive metropolis that was Tuxtla Guitierrez, it was good to be in a smaller town. We made our way through the outskirts of the town, and I constantly looked for a motorbike repair shop to try to get the replacement screws from. There were a few that we passed, but we were so hot and bothered, that we noted where they were and agreed that if we needed to, we would stop in the morning on the way out of town. We did find our way through the maze of one-way streets and twists and turns to an elevated garden square with a huge church in it. We stopped and Jorik did his thing looking for a hotel. Whilst walking around the square, I notice a really nice-looking hotel just across from us, but it looked a little out of our budget. My mother has very kindly offered to pay for a night in a nice hotel for us, similar to what Jorik’s siter and her fella did for us in La Paz, back at the Baja Club. I was so hot and bothered that I suggested we cash in her kind offer and just get a nice place with a pool. However, Jorik came up with a hotel right on the town square, just around the corner and it looked like it was going to cost around MXN800 for the night, and it was suggested that it had a pool. That is in our daily hotel budget at less than US$50 for both of us. So, we headed off to find this hotel. We got caught up in a horrible mess of traffic and it was still blisteringly hot, even at this altitude of 2,200m above sea level and at around 5pm in the afternoon. We found it, the Hotel Santa Clara, which was bang on the town square and located in just the right spot for all the restaurants, bars and activity. A great location, even if it didn’t actually have a pool. It was a very nice hotel though, beautiful colonial architecture and wood beams everywhere, result for us really.

We got showered (no pool) and headed out to check out the town, get a cold cerveza in, and see what options there were for dinner in this fantastic little town up in the mountains. The first thing I noticed; was just how clean it was. The streets were absolutely fantastic, no rubbish lying around, not even any leaves really and there were loads of trees. The whole place just feels clean and very neat. My kind of place and by far the cleanest we have come across in Mexico to date. There were loads of colourful streets and buildings and lots of activity, a few tourists, more than we have probably seen per local anywhere expect Sayulita, and it just had a great atmosphere about it. We had a beer along the tourist strip, and then found a little local taqueria down some side street and near another church. It looked like there was a function on at the church as we saw these very flamboyantly dressed youngsters lining up outside with much fussing and to do. I don’t think it was a wedding, but 1 chick certainly had on a blue dress that had a train that took about 3 people to hold it up. After our tacos and chicken, we walked around the town some more and found a little rooftop bar for a beer. It overlooked the square and gave as a good view of the goings on. We watched some fella try to get a fridge, yes a fridge, into a taxi. Just a normal taxi mind you, not with roof racks or anything. Between them, the chap with the fridge, still in its box, and the taxi driver, they cobbled together some sort of makeshift strap arrangement and simply tied it sideways in the boot with the boot wide open. I’m pretty sure they didn’t make very far as it looked like a proper crap job from where we were sitting pissing ourselves at this mess of a situation. Whilst in the rooftop bar, Jorik had used his phone to do some more research into the border crossing arrangements. It looks like there are various steps on the Guatemalan side that need to be followed, including the need to pay a sum to the local bank where you are required to take the receipt back to immigration. However, google suggested that banks in Guatemala are not open on a Sunday, and as tomorrow is Sunday, we may not be able to cross over. I wanted to check this out further, so we headed back to the hotel and our wi-fi and sure enough, it looks like it might be a risk trying to cross. We might make it out of Mexico, but I bet they don’t care to inform you that you might not be able to make it into Guatemala. So, we had to make a decision, do we stay in this cool town up in the mountains for another day and then leave on Monday morning for the border, or do we ride the 3 and half fours to a little town called Ciudad Cuauhtemoc, which is just on the Mexican side of the border. It would mean that the ride the following day would be shorter as we wanted to make it to a place called Panajachel on a lake that Jorik visited back in ’95. We decided to push the next day, as it would save time and distance the following day, and who knows how long it might take to get everything sorted at the border, both borders. Having made our minds up to press on the next day for about 3 and half hours, there was no need to leave early in the morning and as the evening was still young, we decided to head out into the very lively nightlife to see what we could see. Jorik was again amazed at how the place had changed since his last visit. The town has grown a lot, and we even passed a nightclub with music blaring right onto the street. It was filled with teenagers and youngsters, so not really our scene, but a few doors down, we saw a sign outside that advertised 2 x 1 on local beers and the chap was working hard to entice us into his little bar, which did offer a great vantage point for people watching along the busy street. As I was taking my seat and mentioned that we would also like a couple of mezcals and could we got those at 2 x 1, he nodded enthusiastically and ran off to get menus. When he got back, we again explained that we wanted 2 x 1 local beers and 2 x 1 mezcal and he looked at us a bit odd and repeated 2 local beers and 2 mezcals.  He then came back with 1 beer and 1 mezcal. Not what we wanted and after much confusion, he realised we wanted 2 beers and 2 mezcals. A young lady then came over as she must have been on a break and took over. She was interested in what we were doing and whilst didn’t really speak any English to us, Jorik did his best in very broken Spanish to explain what we were doing. I gave her a card and she immediately scanned the QR code and pulled up the website. She clearly spoke English as she started asking questions and looking at the photos. She suggested that I looked much older than my picture, which was taken in the summer last year whilst on holiday in Turkey, so not that long ago. Jorik found this hilarious and was quick to explain that he was actually older than me, which she did not consider possible. We had a good chat with her and even took a few photos saying that we would include her and their bar on the chat. However, when the check came, the beers were 2 x 1 at about MXN50, but the mezcal, which was shit, was MXN300 each. That was ridiculous, and we had a proper hissy fit, but ended up paying the bill anyway. MXN600 is almost as much as our hotel for the night. Needless to say, I have given them enough attention and the name of the bar and any photos shall permanently be stricken from the record, dickheads! That was enough for us, so it was back to the hotel for an early night, even though we only had to be on the road by about 12 the next day.