‘I was sure it was going to attack me again’
Costa Rica:
As I rode into Costa Rica it was raining. It took 30 minutes to pass through immigration and get my motorbike permit. It continued to rain.
Many borders especially the large ones can be dirty horrible places with Lorries parked up for miles either side of the border, dirty mechanics workshops, oil which has been leaching into the ground for years. This is common around the world! And then there are these remote borders, where there can be only a handful of people, on occasions no Lorries, just peaceful places, where border guards have time to smile.
Once back in Costa Rica I rode 30 minutes to Puerto Viejo in the rain. It looked idyllic, like a beautiful Caribbean coastal resort – absolutely amazing. However, it was raining! I stopped for coffee and cake to dry off, I checked the weather forecast and noted it would be raining for 5 days! It was an easy decision to leave the area. I rode 100 miles, it rained on & off.
The north of Costa Rica is mainly agricultural, with banana & pineapple plantations and fields of sugar cane and aloe Vera. The sweet smell of small fruit processing factories is wonderful!
Having been in dry weather for 2 months, I was wondering if crossing from the Pacific Coast to the Caribbean Coast was such a good idea 🤷♂️
As it rains predominantly in the afternoons in tropical countries I set my alarm for 5am the following morning to make the most of the morning riding, by 6am I was on my way to the border with Nicaragua.
When I arrived in Costa Rica at the main land border, I was welcomed with a brand new ‘state of the art’ facility. At this small border in the rural north, I was welcomed with a couple of shipping containers which had been converted into the immigration and customs offices. It took 45 minutes to leave Costa Rica.
Nicaragua:
Virtually nobody who I dealt with over the following days spoke English, so the majority of conversations were via Google Translate.
At 11am I left Costa Rica and I arrived at the Nicaragua Border. Two border guards and a military guy with a rifle stopped me at the rusty entrance gate and checked much of my paperwork. They stamped a form, gave it to me and pointed to the fumigation guy who sprayed the bike with what I assume was a toxic substance designed to kill everything that moves! He then pointed me in the direction of a shabby small hut.
It started to pour down.
Luckily there was a canopy over the hut window. The guy inside looked at all of the papers the previous guards looked at, added some details on the computer, stamped the form and wanted $8 for the pleasure. For some reason this took ages and when he finished he pointed in the direction of immigration. The rain was too heavy for a gringo, so I waited and waited for it to stop, but it didn’t, so I decided to make a rapid dash the 100 meters to immigration, it was like riding down a river! It was now about 11.30 and I was soaking!
The immigration hall was empty so I went straight to a booth. 30 minutes later I was still there, whilst communicating was difficult, with the help of an English speaking superior they had worked out, why I was visiting Nicaragua, why I was at this small border, what I would be doing whilst there, the hotels I would stay in, the border I would exit into Honduras (I made most of this up with the help of my friend Google) and my inside leg measurement. They acknowledged the facts, one of which was that I would only need to be in Nicaragua for 3 or 4 days, and gave me a 90 day entry stamp on my passport 🤦♂️. I paid an $12 fee. I’ve been here before I thought!
I now had to navigate customs. They asked me to take the luggage off my bike and take it for x-raying. I had 2 bags on the bike and as carrying both is awkward, I only brought one in. The woman didn’t seem to check the x-ray as she was laughing at something on her mobile! I then went to another man, who looked at all the paperwork that everyone else had looked at and added a further stamp and his signature to the form. I paid him $5. Then a policeman and military guy inspected the bike but didn’t seem to care that a large bag hadn’t been x-rayed.
Inside and the military guy had quickly changed his job and was the man I had to pass all of the paperwork to at window No. 5. He studied it and added more details on the computer, added his stamp to the form and told be to go to window No. 6. You know what happened there! Then a woman who had been watching everything wanted to look at my form. She added her stamp to the form and I paid her $10. She then told me to buy insurance (which was interesting as when I came into Nicaragua a few weeks earlier, at a large main border, nobody mentioned insurance to me). I gave her all of the papers… she wanted $15 for 30 days insurance. She said I could go 🙂
One man sat the whole time behind a set of scales. He didn’t weigh anything in the hour or more I was there! I’m not even sure he had a stamp!
I had now dried off and loaded everything back on the bike and slowly rode to the exit gate.
I have this rule that if police or military people want me to stop but they don’t make enough effort and are not clear enough (subjective I know), then I don’t.
As I approached the exit the military guy was slow at noticing me exiting so when I was nearly at the exit, in my peripheral vision I saw him waving me over to him. But it was a bit lame and he was more interested in talking to the attractive lady border guard, so I carried on. Without moving my head to look in my wing mirror (he would have known I had seen him if I did) I looked and saw him now walking very fast out into the road behind me. I think he wanted use his rubber stamp! I carried on and entered Nicaragua at 1pm.
I love small borders, nothing but jungle for 50 miles before the border in Costa Rica and nothing for 100 miles into Nicaragua.
I stopped in a very small village where there was the usual wooden shack at the side of the road. You could maybe describe as a cafe, I had the best coffee. The way the family came out smiling and the kids sniggering, I wonder if they get many gringos stopping. I would imagine not! Coffee and biscuits 40p
Whilst I started early at 6am, with 3 hours navigating the border I had a great day. I love riding a bike around Central America. I’m loving Nicaragua.
At 2.30 the tropical rain started, so I did the sensible thing and stopped and sat in a bus shelter with the locals. I waited 10 or so minutes until the rain had stopped and got going again. What a great idea sheltering from the rain is, I thought! This could catch on.
I arrived in the city of Juigalpa at 4pm and thought what a dump it looked. The city stretched along the Pan American Highway and was a major crossroads for lorries, busses and cars, with everything you would expect, car and lorry workshops, hotels, restaurants etc. it was dirty and congested!
Whilst there were many hotels they all looked pretty grotty so I stopped and moved on from a couple. I then pulled up at one and I wasn’t sure if it was open or not, I was getting off the bike and a small to medium sized dog ran over and attacked me. It happened so quickly, I was shocked and in pain, the crazy dog continued snarling & snapping at me, I was sure it was going to attack me again which made me drop the bike on its side. I saw it was tied up on a short rope and wanted to kick it and pick my bike up but I thought it would bite me again!
Nobody walked out of the hotel, was it even a hotel!
Only a few seconds had passed and I could see blood rapidly coming through my trousers so I walked over to a few mechanics working on a car next door and pulled up my trouser leg to inspect the wound. Blood was rolling down my leg from what was evidently a couple of gapping cuts (I’ll spare you more details). I instantly knew I needed stitches. The men helped me lift the bike upright, all the time the dog was laying under a small tree looking like nothing had happened.
The blood stain on my trousers was getting bigger and covered most of the lower half of one trouser leg, so I thanked the men and rode the 1/2 mile to the hospital (how fortunate was I, I could have been hours away from a hospital).
The hospital was old but it did have an A&E so I hobbled in with one trouser leg wet with blood. My details were instantly taken and I was told to take a seat with 4 other people. 30 seconds later I was called over and a nurse took my blood pressure and weighed me. I was then told to take a seat. 30 seconds later and a nurse takes me into a consulting room, luckily the doctor speaks a little English. Over the next 20 minutes he gave me a local anaesthetic, stitched two bite wounds up, dresses them and gives me antibiotics and pain killers. He tells me I need the stitches removed in 7 days. Whilst he is working his magic I look around at the big consulting room and notice how old everything is, and it wasn’t as clean as I would have liked, the walls were painted that glossy magnolia that English hospitals used to be painted in. In one corner under a trolley was what looked like a massive amount of blood which had splattered over the wall (it had to be blood, I’m in a hospital, I thought). It didn’t bother me at all, I was so grateful for everyone’s help. I asked how much I should pay and the doctor said it was free! A gift from the Nicaragua Government, Wow!
Oh, there was a power cut whilst I was laying on the trolley and a generator kicked life back into the hospital a few seconds later.
The doctor said he was finished and I could go. I walked out of A&E and when I was about 10 meters away I heard “Mr Danny, Mr Danny”, I looked around and the doctor and 2 nurses were outside the A&E door waving at me. I walked back and saw one of the nurses had a syringe in her hand. It was dark, dirty and dimly lit outside. One nurse instantly starts rolling up my sleeve and the other is filling the syringe with some liquid from a vial. I stop them all and say “what is it”, as usual, via Google Translate, they inform me it’s Tetanus (I had previously told them my last Tetanus jab was 11 years ago). I wanted the jab.
It’s at this point I realise the absolutely crazy, ridiculous, mad situation I find myself in – I’m outside of A&E in the narrow entrance doorway with dirt around me, rubbish in the carpark and an ambulance arrives and is backing up towards me whilst other doctors and nurses are coming out of A&E to get the patient from the ambulance. There were now about 8 doctors & nurses around me, the nurse is halfway through injecting me, the ambulance is reversing towards me and is now about 1 metre away from me and not stopping. I’m thinking ‘if he doesn’t stop like now’ I’m going to get run over!
I thought I was in a scene from Monty Python! Was I the only one laughing (internally), is this English humour!
So the ambulance stoped about 70cm before me, I have a syringe in my arm and now the doctors and nurses are rushing to get the person out of the back of the ambulance! There was no doubt I was right in the way. With the syringe still in my arm the rear doors of the ambulance opened, I’m looking at a distressed person who is strapped to a stretcher and many doctors and nurses are trying to get past me. It was madness and everyone looked at the English guy who was in the way – ME!
The nurse pulled the syringe out and put some cotton wool on the hole, grabbed my hand and put it on the cotton wool whilst pushing me past the ambulance into the car park!
There were no pleasant goodbyes, they had done their work and now it was over, finished, go and get on with your life… That’s how it felt. No, that’s exactly how it was!
I hobbled across the car park holding the cotton wool on my arm in the dirty, dark city of Juigalpa out onto the crazy Pan American Highway with Lorries and busses going by. I see a hotel opposite, so I avoid falling down the open street drain which is so deep a small family could live in it, somehow don’t get run over (there’s hardly any street lighting) and negotiate some steps that are more slippery than slippery stuff and realise how rubbish the hotel is.
I walked out the following morning to see if the hospital and hotel were as bad as I thought the evening before…
Everything was awful! Really awful!
This is ‘overland adventure travel on a motorbike’… And I love it 🙂 Not the getting attacked by a dog, or getting socking wet whilst riding, or taking 5 days to get a visa, but on a macro level, there is no doubt, I love it! I sleep well and feel healthy, both physically & mentally 🙂
I decided whatever the consequences I was leaving this awful city! Esteli was 130 miles away and I imagined it was going to be a great city!
I like Nicaragua a lot, the landscape, the people, the food, especially the coffee, if only they would stop chucking rubbish out of their car windows as they drive along! It’s not just Nicaragua, but they seem to do it the most!
Esteli was a great city, clean and ordinary. Which is all I wanted. I found a really small, modern ‘Boutique’ hotel for £22.50/night. I booked 2 nights.
The following morning I thought World War III had began. At 6am, the loudest siren blasted the same noise out that I associate with The Blitz in London. The same happened at midday. I’ve since learned that it’s a tradition dating back prior to people having clocks, and it signals the start of the working day & lunchtime. The crazy thing is that Esteli, is a modern town where all the signs of the modern world are evident, including a mobile phone in everyone’s hand!
Have I mentioned the huge amount of Christmas decorations that are put up all over Central America, I’ve been seeing them since early/mid November. And they really make an effort…
As I rode to the Honduras border I passed through beautiful mountains and coffee plantations, the skies were bright blue and I was smiling. I stopped at a roadside cafe in the mountains for coffee and was invited to sit with Rodrigo who told me that whilst they grow and produce some of the best coffee in Central America they can’t buy it here, it’s boxed up and exported out. The same with cigars!
Back on the bike again and I glanced down at my sat nav and realised I was on, and had been on the Pan American Highway for an hour, how rubbish wonderful it was! My faith had been restored!
There are 3 border crossings from Nicaragua into Honduras and for an unknown reason, 2 of them are close together (maybe 40 miles apart). Should I stay on the Pan American Highway or take a right turn which looks like it heads up into the mountains? Easy decision… the road narrowed as it climbed, and the little traffic that was on the Pan American Highway dispersed, I rode for 30 minutes or more with virtually no traffic passing me. The border was either going to be empty or closed, I thought!
I arrived at the border at 12.30pm at 1,200 metres high up in the jungle. There were very few people crossing, but there were Lorries on either side of the border waiting, and they looked like they had been waiting days. This is common throughout the world, where mechanics setup wooden workshops and others setup small cafes/restaurants. I’ve passed queues in some countries which are over 10 miles long. It’s all about bureaucracy, paperwork, tariffs, politics…
This was the 4th time I had entered and left Nicaragua in the last month, so I knew what to expect. They had been the most bureaucratic borders in Central America, and the only border where they check my luggage.
Honduras:
I left the border and rode all the way to Tegucigalpa, the capital city. I was in the mountains the whole way and the tropical forest rapidly changed to pine forests with huge views for miles around, it felt similar to my ride down through the northwest of America. ‘Have I said goodbye to the Tropical Rainforests I’ve loved so much over the last couple of months’ I thought.
I arrived in Tegucigalpa and it didn’t impress me; dull, congested and nothing interesting to see as I rode on.
Oh, it didn’t rain today! 🙂
I explored the city before heading north. Tegucigalpa feels like the poorest place I’ve been in Central America. At the main square, many people are selling second-hand clothes, shoes and stuff you would expect to find at a car boot sale. People were queuing up for free food which snaked around the main square, past the impressive Catedral de San Miguel Arcángel and the statue of General Francisco Morazán.
The city is built on many hills and as usual I pick a hotel on one of the steepest! As I’m riding out of the city I pass over rivers that are full of rubbish, they look very polluted.
Honduras is basically mountain range after mountain range, and the main road north/south weaves around some of them and twists and turns over others. Heading north the road predominantly has 2 lanes and the surface is near perfect, which means it’s ‘biker heaven’.
I’ve seen very few big motorbikes in Central America, and none outside of the cities. So when I saw (in my wing mirror) a large bike rapidly approaching from behind I smiled. A short while later we approached a mountain and the bike got closer as we pushed hard around the corners, The bike was a BMW GS1200 with full luggage and pillion.
The bike passed me and I followed for about 20 minutes. This guy could ride a bike. He looked completely in control and professional. It was beautiful to watch him ride with a massive bike with pillion so smooth and fast around the corners.
We came into a town and slowed down, he rider gestured ‘if I would like to stop for a drink’. Sherwood, his girlfriend and I discussed much over really good coffee and cake. I mentioned that I had a problem with my bike and he made a few phone calls and after a further 40 minutes of incredible riding we met his friend and a mechanic at a service station. The mechanic made a positive difference but I needed a new part.
Everyone at the service station was curious and smiling.
Sherwood showed amazing hospitality and was so kind getting me the help he did.
At one point along the journey a young man was holding a massive Iguana above his head. It is illegal to eat them, but obviously some people do!
I think today’s riding was some of the most enjoyable ever. I really pushed myself and felt my riding improved!
I finished the day in Omoa, a small village on the Caribbean Coast. As I rode in it looked idyllic with palm trees, cool looking wooden buildings, everything you can imagine…
I checked into a hotel, quickly put my swimming shorts on and walked the few feet to the beach. There was rubbish everywhere, I was shocked, it was horrible and I was so disappointed. How can people live in such as beautiful place and not care that they’re living or holidaying in a rubbish dump!!!
I was sad!
As usual I was up around 5.30am. I walked outside as a Humming Bird was hovering a few metres away and whilst I knew there would be rubbish everywhere, I headed to the beach to be alone. What a fool I was, I’m in Central America, everyone is up early, the fishermen were either about to head out to sea or had, and there must have been 30 people fishing off the pier.
I needed a coffee and walked to a shack/cafe but I only had a $20 note which the owner didn’t have change for (schoolboy error). She gave me a lovely cup for free.
After watching West Ham live on my mobile, I started riding the short distance to the border. The road hugged the coastline, only a few metres away at times. I needed to restore my faith that this was a beautiful part of Honduras and the Hondurans cared about their environment. I turned into a small parking area to see a rural part of the coast. But before I had got off the bike I saw rubbish and plastic bottles. I walked onto the beach and there was rubbish! How sad and very disappointed for me.
I always say “it’s their country (wherever I am in the world) and they create the culture and rules”. However, If only the people of Honduras could stop chucking rubbish everywhere!
I really liked my time in Guatamala, and was looking forward to my time there again. I arrived at the border and what a change, how amazing collaboration is! Both the Honduran & Guatamalan Immigration and customs officials shared the same office building!
After a couple of minutes at immigration, an extremely friendly Guatemalan man approached me with a big smile, saying “hablas español”, “parles-tu français”, “do you speak English?” I replied in French and English and that was it, we had a great connection (I believe he has a great connection with everyone). He walked me through customs out of Honduras and into Guatemala. The border crossing took under 30 minutes and the lovely Guatemalan official and I chatted away. He told me he had a friend in England but he couldn’t remember where.
Collaboration; it’ll never catch-on. Look at Brexit, removing all collaboration and being the only country in the world to impose economic sanctions on itself is proving so successful…
They have a lot to learn these Hondurans and Guatemalans.
I got on the bike and was just pulling away and my friend came walking towards me with purpose. Here we go, I’ve been here before I thought. I got off the bike took my helmet off and with a beaming smile he said “it’s Liverpool, my friend lives in Liverpool”. I told him what a wonderful city it is with a great football team and the birthplace of The Beatles. He told me he liked their music. He said “enjoy Guatamala” and went back to the office.
With a smile on my face I headed for the exit; as usual there were two border guards on either side. They were both looking at their mobile phones and glanced up at me, then looked at their phones again. I didn’t need a second opportunity! I looked straight ahead and a second later one of them shouted “hey, hey” as he ran out towards me. I ignored him and rode into Guatamala.
It hadn’t rained in a couple of days…