Honduras to Costa Rica

It has been quite some time since my last update, and before Costa Rica things were moving along rather uneventfully.

Honduras

Honduras was certainly the most frustrating and time-consuming country to cross into. Throughout the entire process there was no less than three different locals working on getting our documents pushed through, but unfortunately, more manpower did not result shorter or simpler crossing times. It was the same song as the countries before, but with more back-and-forth movement between buildings for various signatures, stamps, and of course fees. The group of men even argued amongst themselves for a bit before cooling off and finishing the processes.

Once in Honduras we decided this would be a good time for an extended break period. We found a hotel off the main drag for a decent rate and settled in for Day 1 in Honduras. The room was large with 3 beds, a kitchenette, and a dining table. At this point we thought we had luck on our side, but as the sun set, we started getting the idea that this was not the case.

As darkness set in, we started seeing more than the occasional insect in the hotel (a few insects are quite typical in these parts). What started as a few large ants quickly grew to hundreds. They were coming out of the woodwork, every window frame, under the door, flying ants, crawling ants… all bright red signifying their willingness to deliver a painful bite to anything that comes too near, whether by their own fault or yours.

I walked to the outdoor restaurant to borrow a can of bug spray. By the time I had hit all of the places where ants were entering, the entire room was filled with an overwhelming smell of bug-spray. Second to the ant infestation was a leaky shower head, dirty floors (discovered only after looking at the bottoms of our feet) and a noisy hotel bar which partied long into the early hours of the morning.

After finally falling asleep, we woke up to the nauseating smell of the bug spray, as strong now as it was the night prior. We immediately set out on the bikes in search of a better hotel in the area, and after having done so, raced back to the nasty hotel, packed as fast as possible, and relocated for another few days.

The next hotel was spotless, the service was great, and the food delicious. The only ripple we suffered from this point on was the struggle for Mike to find an ATM that would readily accept his card. Not bad overall.

It was however time to perform some basic maintenance on the motorcycles. We prefer to do the work ourselves to ensure that everything is done correctly. That said, we sourced 2 quarts each of the 20W-50 4 stroke oil that we had been using and walked across the street to what appeared to be an outdoor mechanic shop. I approached the young man who was outside washing his motorcycle, and using my broken Spanish made him an offer of 100 Lempira each (about 4 USD) for us to use floor space and containers into which we could drain our old engine oil.

By the time we wheeled our bikes onto their lot, a small group of about 5 young mechanics were gathered around us, eager to perform the work for us. Politely, we refused their assistance and proceeded by ourselves as they watched. Cleanliness has a different meaning for Mike and I as it does for them. When they first started helping, they were very comfortable setting engine plugs and parts on the outside ground, whereas Mike and I kept everything clean as an operating room. Clean, clean, and clean some more, they were baffled by our never-before seen quality control.

In the end, they were excited to watch us work on what to them were considered “big bikes”, and the lead mechanic had completely forgotten my offer of $8 USD, which I kindly reminded him of. “Beer for the crew?” I said in Spanish, to which he very energetically replied “No!” with a smile and a laugh.

For the first time on the trip, we needed a PCR test. Nicaragua has one of the most tedious remaining COVID policies for entry, but thankfully, there was a lab near our hotel which performed the test and delivered results within 2 hours. Just as had happened in Thailand, as soon as the swab entered my nose, my eyes watered profusely, and I coughed uncontrollably. Just as I had coughed, everyone, including the doctor and Mike, laughed uncontrollably at my misfortune. When it was Mikes turn, you could hear a church-mouse move across the floor, not a peep. Who knows why my nose is so sensitive? After 2 hours, we had our results and were ready for the border.

One thing to admire about the people in the places we have passed through so far is their eagerness to help. And after a few days of relaxing in Choluteca, we were getting all packed up to head for the border of Nicaragua to cross at El Spino.

Nicaragua

This crossing started out quite exciting. The first step in every border crossing is check out of the country you are leaving, in this case, Honduras. After handing our documentation over to the Honduran official, he shows us his phone with a translated message saying that we both owe a fee of $230 USD for illegally entering FROM Nicaragua. Scratching our heads, Mike and I translate back that we entered Honduras legally. He insisted that we were wrong, because he did not see any stamps IN or OUT of Nicaragua. After a few minutes of stressful debate, we realized that he had not seen the ENTRY stamp for Honduras, and he had assumed we were going the opposite direction.

We clarified that we were LEAVING Honduras and ENTERING Nicaragua (thanks again top the help of a local) and instantly the hostility melted into a feeling of welcome, and our paperwork was in work.

Leaving Honduras was very simple. Entering Nicaragua was simple, but long. Everything happened under the same roof, by a few very, very slow processes. They were very friendly, but the forms the officials had to fill on their computers were very long and required a lot of detail. By the way, all the hype about COVID and nobody even cared about our COVID tests. For us, that makes it all the more frustrating, since Nicaragua did not even make any money on our tests, they simply impose a rule that you comply with for the fear of a stressful hang-up at the border. Long story short, after waiting in line and getting the necessary stamps, we were on our way to Estile for the first night.

The first stretch of Nicaragua was very nice. Lush green trees and farmland, small roadside towns, and friendly drivers. One interesting note about the Nicaraguan countryside, there are literally “Zona Escualas” or “School Zones”, every half mile or so. The schools were very small as you might imagine, not much larger than an 1800’s schoolhouse that you would find during a historic town in the United States. I intend to read more on this topic, as it would be interesting to know if the various schoolhouses each taught every subject, or if the students (who were seemingly ALWAYS walking along the road) transferred between locations which each specialized in different subjects. Don’t quote me, I have some reading to do.

Upon reaching Estile we encountered a typical bustling city filled with one-way roads. Of course, the right-of-way is implied based on East-West vs. North South orientation of the road, which with or without a STOP sign was still only followed if the person traveling with the right-of-way made sure to blast their horn, letting anyone else approaching the intersection know that they had no intention of stopping. Even with this unspoken law, the waiter at our hotel informed us that the intersection at which our hotel was located saw no less than 2-3 accidents per week. I believe I mentioned in a previous post that traffic lights are nearly non-existent up until this point in our trip. As much as I hate stopping for red lights (and my wife will tell you, I HATE stopping for red lights) they would go a long way toward saving lives in this corner of the world.

Estile was a nicely laid out city with everything you need in reach. Nighttime dropped to a comfortable high 60’s to low 70’s F this time of year, and a light rain did not stop Mike and I from going for an evening stroll to enjoy the cooler temperature for a change. Later the next day, we met an expat from Arizona who had spent most of his life traveling through Latin America and had chosen Estile as his place to settle down. After a round of beers and some simple story sharing, we parted ways so that I could look for some supplies at a local pharmacy, as I had suffered a small scrape after tripping on uneven sidewalk in Honduras. I will include photos showing all the uneven concrete, holes, and partially cut-off pipes sticking out of the cement. You must be on your toes or else you can really get a nasty wound on some of this stuff. Foot placement is key.

After Estile, we set our sights on Managua. Managua is the capital of Nicaragua, and it carries itself as such. Crowded, noisy, and dusty roads lead you into the city, with a quieter center buried deep within. We did not spend much time in Managua, as it held a lot of the familiar brands that we have tried so hard to avoid: McDonalds, KFC, you name it. It was extremely hot in the city, which discouraged any more than a one-hour walk to the city center. We stayed in a nice B&B owned by a couple from the area, the husband apparently a painter, the house was adorned with his various works of art. From the outside walkway to our room, we could see one of the many active volcanos in Nicaragua clearly venting into the air. I have only seen active volcanos in Indonesia, and they are a nice touch to the landscape for someone who doesn’t get to see them very often. Sorry, we do not have photos of the volcano, our phones are not capable of capturing even a decent photo at such distances.

After one night in Managua we set our sights for Costa Rica. Headed for Peñas Blancas, we were ready for the excitement of yet another border crossing experience.

Costa Rica

I will save you the novel about crossing this border, since nothing about it was better or worse than those before. However, we did get through the border a little later than we had anticipated, so we found a hotel in Liberia an settled in for the night. Liberia was a busy little town with minimal tourism, but nothing outstanding from the many cities we had visited in the previous month. After one evening and being insanely overcharged for breakfast (tourist tax, so to say) we packed up and headed to Jaco Beach. Jaco Beach is just a little nostalgic for me. A good friend I served with in the Coast Guard who sadly passed away a few years ago, Steve Morrow, used to visit the area to go surfing. This made it easy when selecting the next place to stop on our route as soon as I saw it on the map. Jaco is your typical tourist/surf town. The streets lined with shops stocked with all the same junk, street vendors selling whatever they can find, and of course surfers all adorned with surfer tattoo starter-kits of spiritual symbols that they became familiar with after a quick Google search. LOTS of white people from all over the planet that now more closely resembled beef-jerky with tattoos and dreadlocks, and people that appeared to have come down for Spring Break and simply never returned home.

Regardless of the touristy woes, it would be a good place to rest for a few days as it had a supermarket, a decent selection of restaurants, pharmacies, and everything else needed to recoup from weeks of stop-and-go travel. We had settled on Hotel Jaco for four nights of recovery from the road. The hotel receptionist introduced me to a phrase which at the time I had assumed was just a local phrase used to rev up tourists. The phrase is “Pura Vida”, or “Pure Life”. “Oh, cool…” I replied as I took the room key and headed to the bike to grab my luggage. I never could have been more wrong in my life. As it turns out, “Pura Vida” is used as a greeting in pretty much any context, anywhere near the ocean in Costa Rica. We didn’t know this now, but this phrase would come to haunt Mike and I as our saga through Costa Rica continued. I mean, come on, “Pura Vida” sounds like a hit single by Ricky Martin or something.

Jaco was the first place that we spent any time at the beach, although I could not play in the water due to a cut that I was desperately trying to heal. Costa Rica has also proven the most expensive country so far, as expected, due to the high volume of tourism. Another thing that was becoming more apparent, is that we were unable to slide in before the start of the rainy season, as afternoon rain is frequent and sometimes heavy (seen in photo of me standing in rain run-off). Also in Jaco, we had our first encounter with a few rather large iguanas, which typically run as soon as people are in sight, however, these guys seemed to have gotten used to the steady stream of tourists. Costa Rica was one of the first countries to really relax their entry policies following COVID, so there are already a surprising number of tourists here, as well as expats working remote jobs.

Four days had passed and was time to leave Jaco. We had set our sights on La Purruja Lodge, a rustic style hotel with open-style cabins. With a nice breeze from the ocean, the front of the cabin is covered with nets to allow the fresh, cool air in while keeping the bugs out. We had stayed in similar style cabins in the Sebayur Isands in Indonesia. Sure, the humidity covers everything in the room, but a fresh ocean breeze is totally worth it.

We didn’t make it to La Purruja Lodge.

About two hours outside of Jaco, Mike’s bike started sputtering and died. He tried for a couple minutes to start the bike, but to no avail. After some preliminary troubleshooting, everything looked good, so and after the 20 minute or so rest his bike fired to life like nothing had happened. Not a good sign. Sure enough, less than an hour later, the bike died again. Statistically speaking, this is what we would call an “outlier” or in other words, just bad luck.

The Suzuki DR650 is one of the most popular bikes on Earth for global travel, and for good reason. We each have 2019 models. The bike has BARELY been changed since 1996, an unheard-of length of time for any vehicle platform to remain unchanged. The DR650 has a cult following and is commonly referred to as a “Dirt-Pig”, or “Two-Wheeled Tractor”. It has a simple yet powerful carbureted engine, cable-controlled clutch and throttle, and a myriad of aftermarket accessories that make it even more bullet-proof. With not a single computer, it remains one of the most basic and fool-proof vehicles currently available new in the United States.

More on the bikes greatness later. The pattern of starting and stopping continued, and a trend was appearing. The longer we let the bike sit, the longer it would run the next time we could start it. This pointed to a failing coil somewhere in the power system. After the fourth time that the bike failed, I traveled ahead in search of a mechanic with a tow truck leaving Mike behind. I arrive 10 Km ahead in the next town of Uvita. I ride all over town asking where I can find a good motorcycle mechanic, each time getting a similar response. “Try going to so-and-so, but they will not be open until Monday”, to which I replied, “Where can I find a tow truck to get it here until Monday?”, to which they again replied, “nowhere until Monday”. Yep, unless it is a weekday, if you brake down, your vehicle waits on the shoulder… Pura Vida!! (insert eyeroll). Mike, knowing that I was headed for Uvita, would ride his bike until it died, which always happened at the bottom of a hill, then push the bike until it cooled enough to start again.  After asking several places for a tow, I did the residents of Uvita a favor by picking up a large stainless steel staple with my rear tire. So now, Mike was limping along the nonexistent shoulder of a Central American road, while I was supposed to be finding him a tow but was instead stuck outside an auto service center with a flat rear tire. You can’t make this stuff up.

Hoping for luck in that he would even receive the text, I sent a text to Mike that I was now stranded at the auto service center. After some time I received a reply that he was on his way, having again waited for his bike to cool. With a sigh of relief I waved Mike into the parking lot and we began to reassess our situation. Next to the service center was an Enterprise Renta-Car (thank you tourist industry). The people there were kind enough to let us store our bikes there for a few days while we sorted everything out. We found the hotel that would house us for the foreseeable future, La Luz de Luna. Managed by a French expat who was also a hotel manager in France, La Luz was a two-story hotel with small but comfortable and most importantly, clean rooms. The manager stated that she and her daughter had moved to Costa Rica because French policies surrounding employment during the pandemic made earning a living very difficult. So, as usual, we moved our luggage in, Mike cranked the AC, and we settled in for the unforeseeable future.

 The following Monday, an employee gave me a ride to the local tire shop, on the back of his dirt bike, while I held my rear wheel. Finally, a stroke of luck! The tire shop had plenty of tire tubes in stock that fit our rear wheels, so I fixed my tire and bought a spare tube each for Mike and I. $40 US, not bad. As we often do in the US, I offered to pay for the man’s lunch, handing him 6000 Colones, or just under 9 USD. He said “too much!”, and I replied, “You helped me in a hard time, per your culture, so I want to show gratitude per MY culture”. In the end he took the money with a smile and offered any further help should we need it. Mike and I carried my rear tire back from the shop a few hours later, I reinstalled it onto my bike, and that was one problem solved. Also, the tire repair tech pointed out that I had lost a spoke in my rear wheel. No big deal, but, who loses a spoke?

 I will spare you the painful write-up on trouble shooting, but ultimately, we limped the bike to Uvita in hopes of finding a good mechanic. It was Saturday, and we quickly learned that no services of any kind would be available until Monday, so we were looking at a couple days before we could see a mechanic. Me being me, of course I would not embark on a trip such as this without a dependable set of tools, and neither would Mike. I had purchased a Fluke 107 multimeter for the trip due to its compact size. With the help of the guru’s on drriders.com, a dedicated DR650 site (gotta give credit where credit is due) we started running in-depth tests to determine the fault. It isn’t a hard-failure, meaning the guilty component has not fully failed yet, it only fails when hot. We suspect a faulty power source coil on the stator, maybe a pickup coil, so Mike has ordered the whole deal from San Diego California. Before ordering the part, we met with the local mechanics, but sadly they were less knowledgeable on the issue than we had already become. So now it was time to wait. We are to wait in Uvita until the parts arrived, scheduled for May 30th (everything moves slower here so May 30th is with luck).

During the wait (it is currently May 29th), we have since tested his bike under various operating conditions, temperatures, and run times, and of course we cannot repeat the failure (AAHHHHHHHH!!!!!). Electrical failures are the worst for their elusiveness, but I suppose it is better than throwing a rod through the case. We had even rented a car to drive to the next largest city with a Suzuki dealer, and wouldn’t you know it, Costa Rica has the worst supply chain for Suzuki motorcycles in all of the Americas. Upon arriving at the dealer, not only did we find that the part was not in stock (for a bike they supposedly sell new here) but that the part was not in stock anywhere in the entire country. So much more buying the parts now and forwarding the parts from CA….

So, we have spent 8 days relaxing in Uvita, befriending stray dogs (see photo of “Perry”, a small brown pup that followed us for an entire day and who we both wanted to keep), searching for wildlife, exploring the forest trails, and of course back roading in our VW rental car (also pictured). Back to Perry, we derived his name simply from the Spanish word for dog “perro”. He appeared from nowhere, surprising Mike by interfering with his leg whilst walking. Mike gave him the usual loving attention he gives to all pups, and from then on, Perry was by our side. We walked a muddy trail through the forest which was filled with 40 to 50 Capuchin monkeys (think Marcel from the TV series Friends), miles along the beach across both Playa Hermosa and Playa Uvita, the whole way Perry trying to catch Red Land crabs before they could dart down their holes in the sand. Eventually, Perry met his match. We encountered a few large Halloween Crabs (pictured) which he eventually gave up trying to catch. These crabs were painful to even look at, and did not run, rather, they bared their claws and stood their ground, snapping if you dare even walk to close. Attached are photos of a few of the animals we have encountered, including various frogs, snakes, lizards, and of course, Perry! We finally had to walk Perry to where we had first found him and shout him off, hoping he would return to his home. He was a fixed male, so we assumed he had owners who expected him home.

As I am writing this on the hotel balcony it is currently raining quite hard, justifying the term “rainy season”. At least we are “stuck” in a pretty place with great scenery, and all is quite peaceful aside from the truckers constantly Jake-Braking through town. Another great feature of the area is the bountiful fruit trees. Free Mangos EVERYWHERE!

The trip has been amazing so far, but more than ever I find myself missing my wife. After dating from opposite sides of the planet from 2016 to 2019, Jiranat (gee-lah-naht) came to the United States from Bangkok at the end of 2019. We married in 2020 and shortly after, the whole COVID deal started. We have spent every day together since she arrived in 2019, and because of that it has been difficult to be away from her. On the positive side, while I am out wandering Latin America, she is home in Bangkok visiting friends and family, a much-needed reunion following a series of global shutdowns. We have not decided exactly when and where, but I will be flying her from Bangkok to visit me on the trip somewhere in South America. I am excited to see her soon!!!

It is now May 31, and we intend to leave for Panama tomorrow. Last night was quite the debacle. Mike had walked to the info center to ask what time the mail is expected to arrive, so that he could be prepared to pick up his replacement parts. He had to pay the import taxes online before the package could be delivered, $30 USD for a $189 USD part. Not cheap. Sourcing parts in-country does not save you from the imposed taxes. If you buy the part at a retail store, the import tax is rolled into the sticker price, this makes me so very excited to replace tires. I digress. Mike’s part was sitting at a UPS center in San Jose, 3.5 hours if the universe is on your side, plus tolls of course. As Mike was walking about town I stayed back to relax and watch whatever mind-evaporating videos I could find on my Reddit feed. Suddenly, the sliding glass door to the room opens and in walks Mike. “How did you get here so fast?”, I asked. Turns out, he had decided to drive to San Jose to pick up the parts to avoid having them get lost in the Costa Rican countryside. “I rented a car, you wanna go?”, he replied. Since I was doing nothing of importance I agreed to tag along. The entire route to San Jose lived up to our expectations. Most people driving well under the speed limit, Costa Rica has been the complete opposite in terms of driving culture. In every other country we drove through, 20 km/h over the speed limit was too slow and warranted passing at any cost.

After paying the tolls, struggling with crawling traffic (again, crawling for absolutely no reason) we finally arrived in inner San Jose, only to learn that San Jose is not Google Maps’ favorite city. Trying to make it to UPS before they closed, we were directed to dead-ends, secured compounds, and the first location that Google provided was the center of a cemetery. I was starting to doubt the directions that had been provided to Mike, but I kept that to myself, as the situation was frustrating enough as it was. Finally, we arrived at the location, after driving several figure-eights through the city. After showing his receipt for import tax and waiting for them to find the package “out back”, Mike had the package in-hand, and we were off to find some much needed dinner. If you ever encounter a chain called “Taco Bar, Killer Fish Tacos”, don’t go there. I would rather have eaten McDonalds for a few reasons.

We quickly stuffed our food down to get back on the road. We had a 3.5-hour drive ahead of us, and it is common knowledge in Latin America that you should not travel after dark. Drunk drivers, rogue truck drivers, robbers, animals crossing the roads, and extremely poor road conditions can quickly turn into a very bad night. Well, again, the universe would not be on our side. As soon as we left the restaurant, every turn we took brought us to another gridlocked roadway. The city was a parking lot. Little or no traffic signals and the lack of shoulders meant chaotic traffic, broken down cars with nowhere to go but the lane their car died in, and of course the mystery obstacle the holds up traffic for miles but mysteriously disappears before you get a chance to identify the culprit. We had one more toll to pay to leave town, 75 Colones, or $0.11USD. That’s right, our next bottleneck would be an 11-cent toll that we gladly would have paid $10 USD to get out of. But that wasn’t all. Much to our dismay, beyond the toll booth was another obstacle that would literally inch us along the freeway for the next 1.5 hours… There is not much to add here. We literally sat in 4 lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic for 1.5 hours before things began to free up. And of course, once things did free up, there were no obvious signs of what caused the jam, only a few people talking on the shoulder of the road.

By this time, darkness had fallen. We were now in the exact situation we wanted to avoid. We had darkness, rain, and more than 2 hours along windy mountain roads (think hair-pin and double radius turns) through a cloud forest. Typically, experiencing a cloud forest is “magical”, some might even say “enchanting”. Not under these conditions. For the next two hours while in a total state of fatigue, we drove through thick fog and rain while dodging semi-trucks that were blasting in the other direction, often crossing over the center line, forcing us to the edge of the road. Add this of course to the already undisciplined driving habits of the locals who have adorned the shoulder of the road with empty beer containers. We didn’t see any wildlife, but the way things were going I was fine with that. All we needed to top off the drive home was a big mammal to total the car against. Oh, I should also add that our phones were low on battery the entire trip, both of us cleverly forgetting our charges in the hotel room.

5 hours after leaving the restaurant, we were finally back to our hotel. We decided to stay one more night to get reorganized, prep our luggage, and rest from the long drive. With that, we set our departure for Tuesday, June 1st. Since we decided to keep running Mikes bikes to the point of hard failure (to confirm our troubleshooting) we may take a bit longer getting to Panama City than intended, but at least now we have spare parts and plenty of time. We have now missed our window for the cargo plane to fly our bikes from Panama City to Bogotá, Colombia, so now we need to confirm eh next flight date and plan our route accordingly. Even if we have trouble sorting mikes bike out, Colombia is far better equipped than Costa Rica or Panama in terms of Suzuki repair shops and parts, so we anticipate any issue being sorted no farther than Bogotá.

After spending FAR more time in Costa Rica than anticipated, earlier in the week we had to adjust our spending habits. Mike negotiated a cheaper weekly rate for the hotel, and we ate out only once or twice per day, the other meals being fruit, vegetables, or PB&J sandwiches. We even bought a cheap foam cooler to keep things fresh. Staying in one place inherently saves money, as fuel is one of the largest costs incurred while traveling.

That’s all we have for the moment, more will be added after a few more days on the road!