Back on the horse.

The four week holiday-from-the-holiday at home was a joy. It was ace to be with family and friends again.

I met the new doggy, had a break on the language front, went on blasts in the toy car with mates, snored in my own bed (even if my side had white woofer hairs) and appreciated just how good life in Australia is.

It was an opportunity to replace some items misplaced en route plus repair minor bike parts. It sure sounds dumb carrying a chain guard half way across the globe but having the welder sitting there in the shed made it sort of sensible. 

Some travel setup was tweaked to eliminate day to day annoyances and let me focus on the good stuff. 

First up: keeping cooler (getting steamed up leads to anger and bad decisions) 

The adventure riding fraternity's uniform is a full textile jacket + pants, whether in Alaska or Arizona. I'd been unsure about this before starting but shrugged and bought a set. Each half has a detachable inner puffy thermal layer plus a throw over outer waterproof layer plus "armour" pads plus a heap of zipped vents plus a photogenic colour scheme.

I reckon it's bullshit - all these "pluses" make for awfully heavy gear.

I was intending to take them home for another day, but cracked the sads with the pants and threw them out at San José airport. Besides which, I was running out of luggage space.

From now on, it's just cotton pants with light thermal underwear and thin waterproof outerwear as required. I've kept the jacket but removed all armour. Simplify then add lightness as Mr Chapman said.

Second: waterproofing (depressing + smells bad for days)

I had been riding with lace up Doc Martens. Lovely footwear: comfortable, durable, great for hiking, no need to change once I hopped off. However the tiniest splash means wet socks. Not the worst, just annoying. I returned with off road motorcycle boots which are clunky but protective and quick to get on and off.

Third: better sealed USB charging (always losing GPS after an hour is exasperating)

I'd gone through four chargers and a handful of cables in five months, so lashed out on an exxy bike specific Quadlock unit, which has seals covering the cable connection. 

Anyway, enough of all this navel gazing. Let's rewind to entry into Costa Rica from Nicaragua weeks earlier.

Costa Rica is an interesting Latin American country. In 1948 it abolished its standing army; army headquarters became part of the national university then later a museum. I find the symbolism of military becoming education pleasing - Costa Rica has the highest adult literacy in the region (over 98%).

The Pacific was majestic at La Cruz and being coffee day I was obliged to have a brew and send a snap to my old HAYVN workmates (who religiously meet every Thursday).

Money is a funny thing. Each new currency has meant a mental reset: what does a coffee cost? a beer? a room? 

Costa Rica's exchange rate had the highest number yet: 515 colónes to one USD. Supermarket purchases still calculate fresh produce (being usually by weight) down to granular prices. After only half an hour in the country I had this pile of change.

Later on exiting Costa Rica I tried to be smart. After preceding countries, my pockets had been full of now useless coins. Not this time!

I had a single 2,000 colón note left over and was chuffed to make this final purchase of a loaf of bread at the border. 

... until finding 5kg of coins in another pocket that night.

Next morning the rear tyre had only 2psi. Hmmm. It kept pressure after reinflation, losing only a pound-ish daily since. Weird, as I check them strictly every second day. Oh well, carry on.

The Nicoya Peninsula gets big recommendations online, but for me some of it was ugly with over development. Gratuitous billboards en route, all in English with pale skinned models, peddling exclusive coastal real estate. Gated communities prevent the common man from reaching beaches, even though Cost Rican law forbids buildings within 50m of the water.

Still it had some pretty sights.

Yet again to escape sweltering heat, I headed for the hills. The curves leading up to Monteverde were delightful, even in fog, then fog in the dark, then fog and rain in the dark. A walk next day in Santa Elena's cloud forest was charming.

Boy did the increasing rain dampen the spirits though. At day's end another set of clothing was drenched and contributing to room stink.

Part of the attraction to here was closeby Lake Arenal with its namesake volcano. Ramon from Nicaragua had shared his off toad trails around the lake. They sounded great. However terrible weather was forecast so I threw up my hands and returned to the Pacific. 

Manuel Antonio is the country's most visited national park. On the downside its approach is ugly - loud bars and souvenir shops, aggressive parking attendants or tour guides shouting and whistling for business, both pests projecting officialdom while not being at all official. 

On the upside, there were interesting creatures in the park.

The creatures seemed to get along well.

By now the whole travel nonsense had lost its charm. I was hell bent on heading home for a break. 

Getting up to capital city San José was actually the best day. On a whim I turned north up a puddled dirt road from Parrita. The map showed it wiggly and avoiding freeway monotony. Rain was drizzle at most so easily tolerated, the rural landscape especially appealing to the eyeball and traffic negligible.

The bike and most of my stuff stayed with Warren and Ana of Costa Rica Car Storage. These two are wonderful, helping much more than they needed to.

It was properly weird being in a tin box to cross the city - first time in many months. So slow too in the evening rush without lane splitting. 

The trans Pacific flights were a necessary chore, 26 hours elapsed one way, 32 back. The return was eased by pleasant conversations with a stunning ex ballet dancer and a fascinating lady headed for Antartica.

After kicking the bike in the guts upon return, I backtracked to Lake Arenal. Out of La Fortuna I firstly hiked to see the volcano a little closer. Clouds covered the peak for the longest time until some patience allowed it to be revealed. The swirls of those clouds was mesmorising.

Next was a lap of the lake. The best part was a chunk of gravel/rock road that included a wide river crossing.  

The water wasn't hugely deep but the stones were big enough to warrant walking the bike across instead of riding - the fear of picking it all up out of the drink after a fall was too strong. A couple of muscly, happy mountain bikers steadied it while I slipped the clutch at 20,000rpm in first gear and waddled alongside.

Wet clothes and boots dried during breakfast. 

In the whole time of preparing and eating porridge, not a single person came by so it was unusually peaceful. Only after packing up did a youth on a dirt bike come past.

- Did I have a spare link for his mate's broken drive chain he was holding?

- No I didn't (thinks: maybe I *should* get one)

- How far to the closest town? 

- 15km

 ... and off he roared

That night a Swiss family staying at the same hotel/campground in Sarapiqui welcomed me to their dinner. They'd shipped their two vans from home to Canada, visited the Arctic sea then headed south. Husband and wife in one van were aiming for two years travel, but mother and father in the second under a year.

We compared notes on countries so far, dreams of South America to come and laughed our heads off. All while washing their gnocchi and pork down with their beer. Not a bad deal.

While barreling along between banana plantations ("yellow gold" one bloke told me which seemed kinda strange; isn’t gold yellow anyway?), three colourful long tailed birds crossed in front before settling in a tree. Thinking them to be the elusive Resplendent Quetzal a beautiful bird prized by the Mayans excited me no end. It was only after blowing up the few pixels captured that the bubble burst. Wrong colours, size and geographic location. An exciting idea though.

A wikiloc recorded dual sport trail into the hinterland looked promising. It started with gentle gravel roads, then a water crossing before narrowing to a track that had scant evidence of past vehicles.  

The downward track steepened and became damp clay. Once again the heart dreaded having to come back up. Blow me down, a bridge over a stream at the bottom was broken; the only alternative was an impossibly steep track up out of the stream. I couldn't go forward.

I tried going back up again but traction was impossible. Terrible visions came to mind. 

Just as I was setting off on foot for help, Preddy walked down the hill. What a machine he was. He pushed, getting covered in muck while I walked it up in first gear, sliding everywhere myself on the wet clay. I guess we did this for 100m before the surface permited riding up on the bike.

Even then it fishtailed like mad and I dropped it yet again. I was wrecked but grateful, so gave Preddy a big chunk of cash.

Warren of bike storage fame had urged visiting the Caribbean coast of his country for its beauty, in particular the final stretch to the east, butting up against Panama. The main town is Puerta Viejo. For me, it was a fairly clichéd tourist trap, full of garish bars/eateries/"adventure tours"/visitors on scooters showing off their tattoos/muscles/wobbly bits. 

Chuita though was nice, being a smaller laid back town. My host Flo described how much of it was cartel owned. He'd seen the local big boss pay for stuff with a brick of 2,000 colón notes (second smallest note - approx $6 AUD).

Here's resident Sherlock challenging me to another tug-of-war with his blue elephant. His mate Vito is soaking up some pats from a guest while their human Kim (Flo's partner) looks on.

Chuita national park is right next to the town. What a serene place to be in: an easy track running parallel to a long white sand beach, jungle and river to the other side.

Rangers prevent single use plastics and food from entering the park, so it's scrupulously clean. This is such a welcome change from other scenic spots on the trip.

Manzanillo is much quieter again. Being low season and mid week I noticed virtually zero tourists. Kids played hopscotch at night on the roads. It was almost a struggle to find a place for dinner. I loved it.

Like Cahuita it has its own national park. Similarly a track heads parallel with the coast. Both parks have a multitude of birds, reptiles and other fauna. I saw a paca, love child of a guinea pig and a wombat. I also saw some coatis. The females were in a group, but the males solitary until mating time. Sounds fair.

For the longest time, waves breaking on the sand were fascinating with their random strength and impressions they left in the sand.

Q. So did the setup tweaks from the Aussie break work?

A. Yeah, nah, maybe

- For now, cotton pants are better; opinion might change in the cold, or the next crash

- Jacket without armour is slightly better; I'll keep it but only use it in reasonable temps

- Boots are good for sliding down road at 80km/h (see below) and quick to remove but not waterproof 

- Expensive USB charger failed after a week

- Quadlock handlebar mount was inadvertently on the Aussie dirt bike; it was challenging without a visible GPS until a cheap knockoff was found locally 

My birthday started well: seeing dad's handsome face at 1:30am Paynesville time. Dog-in-law Spud sent me a photo of herself with a cute message.

A relaxing ride through pretty mountain country was paused at a police checkpoint. The policewoman here gave me the biggest smile saying "Australia!". I was *gagging* for her to twig from my license that it was my birthday, but 'twas not to be. Nice smile, though.

The day came down with a bang on the highway. Changing into the next lane meant crossing up over the square edge of new asphalt. Wobble, crash, slide along the wet tar at 80km/h. Tyres crappy in the wet, pressures too high, ancient damper rod front suspension - all factors, but most of all I took the edge on too acute an angle and too fast. I'm meant to know about that.

The only body damage was a sore arm from being wrenched. Even the light plastic wet gear has only small cuts. No damage to the cotton pants. One tiny hole in the jacket. Amazing. 

Tomorrow Panama.

First though a gear lever needs straightening, handlebars/forks need untwisting and a sad pannier needs consideration.