Solo Ride to Panama | 2021

Chapter 1: U.S.A.

And I am off on another adventure!


Well, not quite.  I had driven to Mom's place in Airdrie on Friday, October 15, and I woke up early on Saturday, the day of my flight to Las Vegas, thinking I forgot something.  I forgot to turn down the thermostat and put the water heater into vacation mode.  It was early enough (and before Mom woke up) that I jumped in the car and drove back to Redwood Meadows to take care of that.  Back in Airdrie, after breakfast, Debbie picked me up and drove me to the airport.  I received a text from Ernie at Las Vegas Motorcycle Storage with a picture of my bike.  It had arrived, safe and sound so I was looking forward to getting to Las Vegas early enough to pick it up that afternoon.  The Rio hotel gave me a lovely corner room with floor to ceiling windows on two sides and after I had settled in, I grabbed my helmet and walked the couple of kilometres to the storage facility.  Being a Saturday the industrial area was pretty quiet and despite not being a terribly pedestrian friendly environment it was nice to go for a walk in the sunshine after the flight.  Ernie met me there and I rolled the bike out.  The old beast roared into life on the first push of the button, albeit with some smoke due to being parked on the sidestand.  Panama here we come!
 

Ernie sent me this photo: my bike has arrived in Las Vegas!

 
 

The bike fired right up but with a bit of smoke (I said, that'll keep the mosquitos down and Ernie replied, we don't have any mosquitos)

 
 

Bring the bike back to the Rio and pack it

 
 

A nice spacious room at the Rio

 


Since I wasn't sure that I would be able to pick up the bike on Saturday I had booked two nights at the Rio and so I had a free day on Sunday.  I used the time to fine tune the packing and then took a walk down the Strip in the late afternoon.  I ended up at the Venetian at supper time and had a wonderful pasta dinner in the main square while an opera singer/pianist played on stage.  Lovely but, let's be honest, eating dinner by myself in a fancy restaurant felt a little weird.  After dark the Strip really comes to life and it was fun strolling back to the Rio, catching the dancing fountains at the Bellagio (where we had celebrated Audrey's birthday in 2019) on the way.
 

The fountains at the Bellagio

I could hear the wind howling outside when I got up on Monday morning and it was indeed quite breezy when I got out onto Interstate 15, heading south.  I had planned to get some gas soon after departing and it was a relief to pull into the "World's Largest Chevron" station just 45 kilometres down the road.  I removed the peak from my helmet to ease the strain on my neck, but it was still hard work just riding at the speed limit (113 km/h).  At a rest area I took a break and thought I would check for any messages onFacebook.  Facebook greeted me with a memory from last year, October 18, 2020, the day in 1988 that Audrey and I were engaged.  And in 2020, a time when Audrey was declining rapidly with only a week left before she would be transferred to a hospice.  I was completely and totally overcome with grief and sat at a picnic table weeping, unable to go on.  When I shared the post on Facebook and commented that I didn't think I could go on.  I received an outpouring of support.  Thank you!  Eventually I was able to get back on the bike and slog another 400 kilometres in the wind to Bakersfield before turning north.  About 100 kilometres before King City the wind finally eased up, but the last half hour of riding was in the dark.  The headlight on the R100GS is almost as good as the wind protection so it was still a bit of a challenging ride. I was physically and emotionally drained, but I was on the road, travelling at last.
 

Good morning Las Vegas!


A wind advisory in effect

 
And I am off!

{C} {C}
 
The World's Largest Chevron station provided a brief respite from the wind

 
I saw these mysterious things from the plane as we were landing in Las Vegas

 
Riding right by the mystery.  They are solar collectors.

 
Riding across the desert

 
Great, more wind warnings

 
As the wind eased up and I was riding into the afternoon sun it was better with the peak back on

 
Riding north in the Salinas River valley lots of fresh vegetables are being picked

 
A truck load of lettuce

 
Nice parking spot at the hotel in King City

 On Tuesday I had an appointment in Scotts Valley, just south of San Francisco to pick up a new rear shock.  The Ohlins was still OK but it had been a while since it had been serviced and when I had called The Beemershop before departure to see about a rebuild they indicated that they were taking appointments well into the future and it would take a few days to actually get it rebuilt.  So, I bought a new shock instead.  On Tuesday, October 19th, I rode up to their shop from King City.  The shock is pretty easy to replace on the R100GS but it still took a couple of hours so that meant I wasn't able to return to King City via the wonderful coast road, Highway 1.  I took the road between the 101 (which I had come up) and Highway 1, the Carmel Valley Road.  It was fantastic with very little traffic and lots of fun curves to give the new shock a workout.  Back in King City I stopped at a Starbucks for a bite to eat and read a motorcycle magazine rather than returning to the motel right away.  When I rode to the motel it was after dark and I was surprised to discover that the headlight wasn't working.  But it did work when I held down the high beam flasher.  Weird.  
 

Installing the new shock absorber in the Beemershop parking lot

 
A glimpse of the ocean coming out of Santa Cruz


The Carmel Valley road is lots of fun


Lovely views and no traffic made for a nice afternoon ride

 


On Wednesday I headed over to a nearby AutoZone to pick up a new headlight bulb.  When that didn't fix the problem I tried a few other things, none of which worked, so I made a mental note to; a) avoid riding at night and b) assume that oncoming traffic wouldn't see me.  By this time, I thought I had better get going if I was going to make it to Ventura before dark.  The hotel owner had suggested a nice road down to the coast from King City, but she hadn't mentioned that it goes through an army base, so I was a little concerned when I saw the visitor control center for Fort Hunter Liggett.  There was no one in the booth and a sign indicated that through traffic was OK so I proceeded with a healthy dose of caution.  What a wonderful road and no traffic at all.  None.  That was perhaps a clue that this wasn't going to end well.  Just a few kilometres from the coast I came upon a barricade.  The road was closed due to a recent fire in the Los Padres National Forest.  I had to backtrack through Fort Hunter Liggett and most of the way to King City before taking the four lane Highway 101 down to Ventura.  Too bad, as I had been really looking forward to the ride along the coast.  I had noticed a clunk coming through the handlebars the day before and it was a bit worse now.  Upon investigation it appeared that the steering head nut was a bit loose.  This had happened before, in Sudan in 2007, where I ended up losing the nut and riding 1,000 km without it, so I knew I should tighten it and perhaps get the steering head bearings checked over for damage.  Over a delicious roadside taco lunch, I found a shop in San Diego that works on the old "airhead" BMWs and contacted them to arrange a time for repair.  I finally made it to Ventura just before 6:00 PM, as the shadows were getting long, after encountering serious traffic at Santa Barbara where splitting lanes was especially useful.  The parkade under the Amanzi Hotel wasn't secure (that is, it was open to the outside) but at least it was covered.  I took my luggage upstairs then went for a walk, looking for a bite to eat, ending up with a convenience store sandwich.  I hoped to slow down a bit and have fewer challenges as this kind of travelling was getting tiring.
 

Tried replacing the headlight bulb but the light still didn't work


Entering Fort Hunter Liggett


No traffic at all and a lovely ride to the coast

 
I thought these turkeys were safe but realized that they hadn't had American Thanksgiving yet...

 
Dodging enormous spiders was part of the fun of the road

 
Well, that's the end of the fun.  Road closed because of a recent fire in Big Sur.

 
Road closed just past Nacimiento Campground, I could almost smell the ocean

 
Well, I guess there was this Road Closed sign in Fort Hunter Liggett

 
Clunk from the front end traced to a loose steering head nut

 
Doing research on BMW mechanics over lunch

 
Well, at least I am back by the ocean

 
Turning off before the Space Force Base

 
Lovely ocean views

Robbed!  Yep, I came downstairs, and I had forgotten to lock the saddlebags last night.  The lids were open and everything that I hadn't taken upstairs was gone.  So that was all the bike-specific things like rain gear, tools, spares, warm clothes, first aid kit, and extra gloves.  My frustration was compounded by the fact that Audrey was always much more security conscious than I was.  I wouldn't have left the saddlebags unlocked if she would have been here.  I reported the incident to the hotel who said they could give the security camera footage to the police, but I would need to file a police report first.  That made sense since otherwise I am sure I would have gone looking for the miscreant to extract a bit of vigilante justice.  Instead, I walked in a spiral outward from the hotel just looking for my stuff.  No luck.  I had an appointment with BMS, Best Motorcycle Seats (formerly Bill Mayer Saddles before Rocky passed away) to get my custom seat adjusted so headed over there and spent the morning with Adrian getting the seat so that it fit me better.  Their saddles are absolutely amazing, and I would recommend them to anyone, check them out at legendarybms.com.  I thought I would have a look at replacing some of my stolen gear at Ventura BMW but they had no rain gear (what, it never rains in California?) and they couldn't sell the 2-in-1 gloves because they use kangaroo leather. Apparently, it isn't possible to sell kangaroo leather in California.  Who knew?  I also asked if they could tighten up the steering head nut but their mechanics won't touch an old motorcycle for fear of breaking something and they didn't have the tool available for sale either.  I took the long way back to the hotel, through the mountains and by the ocean and then walked around again to see if the thief had discarded any of the useless items.  Like who else would need a spare clutch cable for a 30 year old motorcycle?  I ended up at Finney's, a really lively pub on a pedestrianized street in downtown Ventura.  It was way more fun eating at a lively spot by myself than in a fancy restaurant.  Plus I had a Moroccan salad, easily the healthiest thing I had eaten on the trip.

Adrian of Legendary BMS goes to work adjusting the motorcycle saddle

 
Another happy customer

 
Tightening up the steering head nut in a Home Depot parking lot

 
The Ventura Pier was built in 1872

On Friday, October 22, I packed up my (more) meager belongings and hit the road south.  First a stop at Legendary Best Motorcycle Saddles to make another adjustment to the seat and then to the newly opened Rivian Hub in Venice.  Rivian had just started delivering their new electric pickup truck to customers and only a few days earlier had opened up the Hub.  The truck was great to see in person, but I was even more impressed by the attitude of the people I met.  Everyone there was really into adventure travel, it wasn't simply a company slogan.  Some of the staff even insisted on coming out front to have a look at my bike and talk about the adventure I was on.  A little further down the road I stopped off at SpaceX headquarters to check out the Falcon 9 booster on display.  That made my bike look pretty tiny!  A Travelodge was my home for the evening, but I was a bit concerned about the Harley Davidson dealer across the street that seemed to be setting up for a party.  After finding a nice hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant (yummy lamb tikka masala) I went back to the Travelodge to find the HD party in full swing.  I didn't mind the party too much but after the party the legions of open pipe Harleys roaring away was actually deafening.

Arrived at the Rivian Hub

The Rivian R1T is a cool, adventure-ready truck

The blue is sharp

 
 

Check out the slide-out camp kitchen available as an option

Yes, my BMW R100GS is in the photo with the Falcon 9 booster

After a Saturday morning breakfast at Starbucks I continued south.  I stopped off at Long Beach BMW and found new rain gear in my size (!) and new Airflow gloves.  This thievery thing was getting to be expensive.  Taking Interstates 405 and 5 south I was struck by the volume of traffic going in both directions.  While splitting lanes meant I could make better time than those stuck in their cars it was still a bit of a slog.  At a rest stop I struck up a conversation with a couple of people that had pulled up beside me and were checking out the stickers on the bike.  When I told them I was on my way to Panama and that this was the first adventure ride without Audrey they asked if I would mind if they blessed me.  Umm, OK.  Blessing completed I rejoined the fray and split lanes most of the way to San Diego.  I arrived at the harbour at 2:30 and texted Onno that I had arrived.  This was the first time I had seen his boat and Lost Pearl did not disappoint. What a wonderful boat, nicely laid out and it was obvious Onno had done so much work on it.  The next morning we went for a cruise around the harbour to help break in the new motor.  In the afternoon we hopped on a couple of eScooters and zipped over to a theatre to check out Dune.  Great show but the theatre had the sound cranked up to 11.  My ears were still ringing that evening, as if I had come from a rock concert.  Isn't there a saying, "The music isn't too loud, you're too old!"  After running a few errands on Monday morning, Onno and I had a delicious bon voyage lunch (for both of our voyages) at Supannee House of Thai and then I set off in a bit of a drizzle.  I had booked a hotel on the other side of San Diego to be close to the motorcycle shop that would take a look at the steering head nut the next day.

Saturday traffic between Los Angeles and San Diego is pretty heavy (huzzah for lane splitting!)

 
I get blessed at a roadside rest area

 
Arrived at Shelter Island pier, looking for the Lost Pearl

 
Meeting up with Onno

 
Arriving at the Lost Pearl (click on the photo to watch the YouTube video)

 
The captain at the helm

 
A lovely evening on the boat with a view of San Diego (also the iPhone takes pretty amazing photos)

 
Packed up and taking the tender back to shore and my motorcycle

 
A light drizzle for my departure from Shelter Island

The Carlton Oaks Lodge was a golf course hotel with direct access to the golf course which would probably be good for a golf vacation, but it was in the middle of a residential neighbourhood far from any other services.  So Tuesday was a day of walking.  First a few kilometres to a café for breakfast then back a couple of kilometres from DCMW Motorcycle Service of San Diego after dropping off the bike with Dave.  He thought the bike would be ready in the afternoon if he didn't need to order any parts.  With a little time on my hands, I walked back and forth to a laundromat and Kaffeemeister for afternoon tea when I got the call that my bike was ready.  Finally, after 22.7 kilometres of walking (according to my iPhone app) I had my wheels back.  Using my wheels, I popped over to an O'Reilly's auto parts store to replace my stolen air pump and flat fix kit and finally to dinner at an Olive Garden.  On Wednesday I did some prep work for Thursday's planned border crossing and then moved to another hotel where I got the required documents printed out.  I swung by San Diego BMW to see if they had a clutch cable to replace my stolen cable, but I had no luck with that.  Next door to the Best Western was Anthony's Fish Grotto, a famous local establishment where I enjoyed the salmon and penne pasta while sitting beside a duck pond.  Quite lovely but as always at a fancy restaurant, a bit weird by myself.  I woke up on Thursday in anticipation of a border crossing.  Part of the thrill of travelling is the unknown of a border crossing and today would be no different.  Well, it turned out to be a bit different.  I packed up the bike and rolled it off the centre stand and thought it felt weird.  Sure enough, an enormous nail had managed to find its way into the rear tire.  The tire was relatively new, so I thought about repairing it with my newly acquired tools.  Figuring that no matter how well I repaired the tire it still wouldn't be as good as a new tire, I checked with the dealer to see if they had the same tire in stock.  They were able to get a tire and install it that afternoon.  Perfect.  Rather than taking an Uber over with the wheel to get repaired I used the opportunity to practice my puncture repair skills (and brand-new pump and tire plugs) and then rode over.  I also extended my stay at the Best Western an extra night.  Friday morning, I took a nice mountain road to the Tecate border crossing figuring it would be a little less stressful than at the busy Tijuana crossing.  It was a lovely ride except for the long wait in the heat at a construction zone and I hoped that the border crossing wouldn't take too long, or I might cook in all my gear.  What further adventures awaited?  How reliable would the bike be, or would that also form part of the adventure?  Into Mexico!

DCMW Motorcycle Service of San Diego has a few older bikes out front.  My bike will be in good hands.

 
A flat tire just as I am leaving San Diego for Mexico

 
My flat tire repair kit is only a couple of days old and still in the original packaging

 
Love this sticky note in a Starbucks (despite the spelling error)

 
The border with Mexico

 
Map of the U.S. portion of the ride to Panama

 

 

Chapter 2: Baja

On Friday, October 29, I crossed the border from the U.S.A. to Mexico at the Tecate crossing.  It was a warm day and I had just spent some time sitting at a construction zone so I hoped that the border procedures wouldn't take too long.  As always, a new border crossing can be a bit confusing, so I pulled up and had a look before proceeding.  I didn't see a line of vehicles and nowhere official to park, so I pulled up in front of the gate and looked questioningly at an official who motioned me to proceed through the gate, park on the street and return.  The only convenient place to park was a little way down the wrong way on a one-way street.  I parked the bike and was securing my stuff when an official motioned me over to an official spot that he indicated would be much more secure than on the street.  What a nice introduction to Mexico!  I then walked back to the immigration office where it was an easy process to stamp my passport and issue the visa.  The agent asked if the photo on my sleeve was of my wife.  I said yes and explained (in extremely limited Spanish) that she had passed away a year ago.  As it isn't necessary to obtain a Temporary Vehicle Import Permit just for riding Baja California it was a little trickier getting the TVIP that I needed to go to mainland Mexico.  I knew I needed to get it at the Banjercito so asked for directions from the friendly immigration officer and she pointed me in the right direction, just a few metres back.  There another friendly and helpful officer got me through the process though I did have to go to a pharmacy across the street to get a photocopy of the immigration document I had just received.  The total time for the border crossing was only 20 minutes so I got back on my bike at 12:30, just in time for lunch.  As I didn't have any pesos and I didn't see a convenient bank machine I headed for a restaurant that I knew would take a credit card.  MacDonald's.  OK, not exactly the Mexican lunch of my dreams but needs must.  From there it was an easy ride to Ensenada though I did need to adapt (as one always does) to the driving style in Mexico.  I could see the Lost Pearl from the balcony of my room at the Corona Hotel, next to the marina and texted Onno.  We arranged to meet for supper, and I walked into town to a bank for some pesos, stopping for a delicious mocha frappe at D'Volada.  I met Onno and his crew (Gretchen and Tim) for dinner in the hotel restaurant where we had a great conversation about their trip down from San Diego and plans for sailing to Cabo San Lucas.

My first Mexican meal!

 
The Corona Hotel is right near the marina in Ensenada

 
View of the marina from my balcony

 
Yes, that's a Canadian flag!

 
The cathedral in the centre of Ensenada

 
Yummy!

 
Onno and Ekke

I met Onno for breakfast in the hotel restaurant and then, since he needed some pesos, we walked over together to the bank I had visited yesterday.  Then we wished each other a bon voyage and started our separate ways to La Paz.  I went east from Ensanada as I wanted to follow the coast along the Sea of Cortez so climbed out of town and up into the low mountains.  About 20 kilometres into the ride, I was following a couple of cars and was being tailgated by a van when I noticed a jerry can lying on its side towards the outside of a left-hand curve.  The can wasn't in the way but a black oily liquid covered the entire width of the road.  As soon as I hit the oil slick, the bike went into a two-wheel drift, both tires sliding towards the outside of the curve and the steep drop-off.  I gingerly steered into the skid and rolled off the throttle while pulling in the clutch, hoping that I wouldn't go off the road and over the cliff.  I made it through the slick without falling or getting run over by the tailgating van and rode a couple of hundred metres further where I could pull over.  I had passed a Honda Civic parked on the other side of the road and while I was standing beside the bike, trying to calm my jangled nerves, the driver came over and relayed how she had hit the oil slick and spun out, ending up on the other side of the road.  We both thanked our lucky stars that we were OK.  The remainder of the ride to San Felipe was uneventful though riding with extreme caution saw me tiptoeing around every single corner.  The Stella del Mar was right on the beach, so I enjoyed watching the sunset before heading to the restaurant.  A live band was playing, and I thought they were really good, so that made for a lovely evening getting the tension out of my system.

Heading east out of Ensenada

 
Pulled over after the oil slick

 
That's oil on the road

 
Across the Baja


Beach accommodations in San Felipe

 
The band at Stella del Mar playing during dinner {C}

{C}
 

I was expecting a bit of an adventurous ride today since the map I had obtained from the Canadian Automobile Association before I left, recommended that Highway 5 south of San Felipe was only suitable for four-wheel drive vehicles.  I usually book accommodation the night before but held off this time since I wasn't sure how far I was going to make it.  Well, it was a lot less adventurous than anticipated since the highway was freshly paved for the entire distance.  The new road seemed to have eliminated the famous Coco's Corner, a must stop for all motorbike travellers.  I thought I had passed something called Nuevo Coco's Corner ten kilometres before where it should have been, but I didn't feel like retracting my steps.  There were no fuel stops available until I got to Guerrero Negro, a distance of 400 kilometres.  Sometimes it's nice having an extra-large gas tank.  The Hotel Caracoles had lovely rooms and I could park the bike right in front.  While not as nice a setting as the Stella del Mar the room was far nicer and one third the price.  This was not a tourist town as was obvious when I walked into town to sit at a coffee shop and read a book.  I had downloaded "The Apollo Murders" by Chris Hadfield onto the iPad and was anxious to read it.  Walking back in the dark on Halloween was fun as a few stores seemed to be open specifically for kids to come "Trick or Treating".  The day after Halloween is Día de Muertos so I made a point of stopping at a few roadside shrines on the ride to Loreto.  There were a lot of shrines, presumably erected at the location where a loved one was killed on the highway.  Of course, when I stopped at a shrine I thought of Audrey, but I also wanted to think of Onno's wife, Chieko, who had passed away in 2019 from cancer and my Dad who had passed away in 2017 while Audrey and I were riding in South America.  Even at the Santa Fe hotel restaurant in Loreto there was a Día de Muertos shrine set up where candles were lit, and offerings laid out.  November 2 also seemed to be part of Día de Muertos, so I stopped at another shrine on the ride from Loreto to La Paz.  While the day before I was really processing grief, on this day I wanted to focus more on the positive aspects that made Chieko, Ekke Senior and Audrey so important in my life.  It was a completely different point of view of their passing and made me feel so much better rather than wallowing in grief.  While Monday's ride to Loreto had gone through the mountains and along a lovely coast dotted with small bays (perfect for the Lost Pearl to anchor I thought), Tuesday's ride was on arrow straight roads through the desert.  I had booked the Hotel Palmira in La Paz because Audrey and I had stayed there in 1989 and despite the awful vacation (that's another story) we liked the hotel.  The hotel was nicer than I remembered it and after dropping off my laundry I jumped into the pool for a refreshing dip.

Going for a morning walk in San Felipe

 


Let the adventure begin!


Spectacular views of the Sea of Cortez

 
Small islands by the coast

 
Desert highway with fresh new asphalt

 
Here's the old dirt road

 
Leaving Baja California

 
Nice to be in a town that wasn't too touristy

 
Nice digs at Hotel Los Caracoles

 
More desert highway

 
Stopping at a roadside shrine

 
Día de Muertos meant that the shrines I saw were well taken care of

 
Thinking of my Sweetie

 


 A lot of shrines were located at sharp curves

 
An ice cream shop in Santa Rosalia

 
I think the Lost Pearl would look right at home here

 
Shrine in a cave

 
Hotel Santa Fe in Loreto is nice

 
Even the restaurant has a nice shrine set up

 
The bay in Loreto is a UNESCO World Heritage Site



 
The coast south of Loreto is just beautiful

 
Classic cactus

 


Stopping at shrine on the second Día de Muertos

 
A welcoming Canadian flag at the Palmira Hotel in La Paz

 
Sunset on the malecon

On Wednesday I ordered tickets online for myself and the bike on the Baja ferry to Topolobampo for Monday, November 8, over breakfast and then walked over to the ticket office (about 5 kilometres) in downtown La Paz.  It was already 30 degrees, so I tried to stay on the shady side of the streets on the way over.  Once there it was an easy process to pick up the tickets and the agent gave me some good information, telling me to pick up my own tie down straps as they wouldn't be provided on the boat.  After the ticket office I met Ken (Viv's friend (Viv is a university friend of Audrey)) at Coffee Star where we had a nice chat over a frappe mocha.  He was staying at a place in the same direction as the Hotel Palmira, so we walked down to the Malecon together and along the sea wall.  Good thing we had our sunscreen on as the sun was good and hot.  Back at the hotel I checked on my laundry and found out they hadn't done it since they thought that I was checking out today.  They promised to have it done by tomorrow morning (my real check out date) and I continued wearing the same clothes for another day.  That wasn't so bad as I worked on the website and then read The Apollo Murders by the pool.  Thursday morning my laundry was indeed done, though it was done by one of the staff at the hotel rather than their regular laundry service.  I packed up and then rode south out of town, stopping off at Home Depot to buy the tie down straps and an adjacent Carls Jr. for lunch.  I might as well be in the U.S. at this rate.  At least the ride to San José del Cabo on the east side of the peninsula felt like it was in Mexico and a lovely ride.  In San José del Cabo there was an option to take a toll highway to Cabo San Lucas, but I chose libre instead and started to regret it with the endless stop lights and heavy traffic.  This was compounded by the clutch not disengaging completely making it difficult to select neutral, so I adjusted it at the handlebar while riding and it was noticeably better.  Still, it was odd as it had never gone out of adjustment before.  Getting to the City Suites in Cabo San Lucas was tricky with U-turns and frontage roads to get there even though the hotel was clearly visible from the highway.  After checking in I got on the elevator to the fourth floor but the lights in the elevator weren't on and the elevator didn't move when I pressed "4" after the doors closed.  Pitch black darkness.  Uh oh.  I found my phone and turned on the flashlight so that I could open the door and get out.  Back at the front desk I mentioned the broken elevator and they said someone would come over to fix it.  After no one had shown up in a while I went back to the front desk.  She said she would try it and got in the elevator while I waited outside.  When nothing happened after a minute or so, I thought I would hit the elevator button.  The door opened and the desk clerk stepped out looking a bit pale and frazzled.  While she said she would get someone to fix it she said there was another elevator for a different part of the hotel that I could use.  It was a bit of a mystery why she hadn't suggested that earlier while I was waiting for the elevator to be repaired.  The suite was very nice, and I hoped that with the kitchen I wouldn't be as reliant on restaurant meals.  By this time, it was getting close to the time that the Sage Soirée was to start.  This is an annual gala put on by Hospice Calgary (virtually during COVID) and I had been invited since I had done a video on grief that was to be shown.  I got the computer all set up and joined the event.  As I knew it would be, this was quite an emotional event, especially when my video was shown but also hearing other stories of grief.  What an emotional end to the day.

Walking around La Paz

 
Along the malecon with Ken

 
City Suites hotel in Cabo San Lucas

 
The Sage Soirée

 

The City Suites was a reasonably priced, modern hotel but quite a way from the famous beach of Cabo San Lucas.  Always up for a walk I put on my walking shoes and headed out into a warm day.  Only one wrong turn later I made it to the beach.  I walked up to one of the expensive beach hotels and sat in the shade of an umbrella on their patio restaurant.  The waiter said that the breakfast buffet was still open, and I could go in and fill my plate.  I had to explain to him that I wasn't staying at the hotel and just a smoothie would be great.  Isn't that the definition of white privilege though?  I walked into an expensive restaurant like I owned the place and people automatically assumed I belonged there.  I got out Chris Hadfield's book and enjoyed a smoothie, and then a Caeser wrap at lunch time until I finally moved on in the early afternoon.  I strolled around Cabo ending up at a downtown, indoor, air-conditioned mall before taking on the hot walk back to the City Suites.  I wanted to grab some groceries for meals in the suite and there was a Walmart across the highway, but no way was I risking life and limb as a pedestrian to cross that highway or walking several kilometres to an underpass, so I hopped on the bike instead.  Now I would be self-sufficient and could also try to eat a little healthier.  Saturday was kind of like a vacation from the vacation as I stayed at the hotel reading, writing up the website and watching Foundation on Apple TV+.

The beautiful beach of Cabo San Lucas

 
Reading the Apollo Murders while enjoying a smoothie

 

So here we are.  November 7.  One year on from Audrey's passing.  I had of course been dreading this day for some time.  I rather expected myself to be an utter mess, curled up in a ball, weeping uncontrollably.  But it wasn't that way.  Perhaps because I had been dreading this day, I had been preparing subconsciously for it.  I did spend a lot of time reflecting on my life now, how grateful I was to have had a wonderful life with Audrey and also on how this trip was going.  I still hadn't found a great deal of joy in travelling.  It almost seemed like I was going through the motions of travel.  I didn't know how to shake that feeling though.  What could I change in my travelling to bring back the joy?  The dichotomy of the grief and realizing how lucky I was, not just for having had Audrey in my life but also to have the means to keep on travelling was also playing on me.  Having finished The Apollo Murders I started another book, Anxious People by Fredrik Backman.  The same author who wrote the book, A Man Called Ove.  I had received that book from Jackie, and it was eerily similar to my own experience of losing Audrey.  The title character was the same age when he lost his wife and also felt completely lost without her.  And he was a SAAB aficionado with great disdain for Volvo, BMW, and Audi drivers.  Perfect match then.  Mr. Backman can make you laugh and cry in the same paragraph, if not the same sentence.  Highly recommended.  I had finished the writing and photographs for the first chapter of the Solo to Panama portion of our website but was having trouble exporting it on the Surface Pro.  I struggled with it but couldn't get it going.  It looked like I might have to wait until I returned to Canada and use the old Sony VIAO computer to upload to the web.  Eventually I packed up and, in the afternoon, returned to La Paz and the Palmira, this time taking the western-side road avoiding the traffic in San José del Cabo.  It was easy riding on four lane highway and perhaps perfect on this emotional day.

Relaxing by the pool back in the Palmira Hotel in La Paz

 

On Monday, November 8, I packed up and left the Palmira at 10:30 to ride 16 kilometres to Pichilinque, the ferry port.  First the Banjercito checked my Temporary Import Permit to make sure I could take the bike to the mainland.  While I could have arranged that here I was glad I had done it back in Tecate where there was no pressure of having to catch a ferry.  Next the length of the bike was measured and then the bike (and operator) were weighed.  After waiting in an air-conditioned lounge for about half an hour I popped outside and saw a couple of motorcycles riding towards the boat.  I jumped on my bike and headed after them and was surprised to see that we were able to board despite not having heard any kind of announcement to that effect.  Using my new tie down straps the attendant strapped the bike down while it was on its sidestand.  Hopefully it won't be as smoky on start up as it was in Las Vegas after being in the transport truck.  For some reason I had this image in my mind of cruising to Topolobampo lounging on deck while watching dolphins and whales cavorting in the Sea of Cortez, so I hadn't booked a stateroom.  When I climbed up the stairs from the car deck I was shown to a lounge and my assigned seat.  I sat down and put my motorcycle gear on the seat beside me.  Until a lady came by and indicated that was her assigned seat.  At least a Mr. Bean movie playing at the front of the hot room in Spanish had lots of visual gags. Leaving my gear at my seat, I got up and walked around to find that the only open deck space was facing back, looking at the cargo hold where trucks were jockeying for parking.  This deck was only a metre or two wide and the three park benches on it were already taken by smokers.  This wasn't going to be the cruise of my dreams.  I went down to the purser's office and asked if a cabin was available.  He said that I could check back with him just before departure when he got the final information.  Thank goodness a cabin was available as the crowded dining area looked like it would be a COVID superspreader event.  So it was a lovely crossing after all, relaxing in my cabin (with the provided meal) and going out on deck occasionally to grab a breath of fresh air.  I'll have to look up the Mr. Bean movie to see how it ends though.  I had booked a hotel just a stone's throw from the ferry terminal in Topolobampo so it was a short ride in the dark.  At least the intermittently functioning headlight graced me with its presence.  I really should try to fix that.

Approaching the ferry port at Pichilinque

 
Nice warm lounge to watch Mr. Bean

 
OK, a cabin is nicer

 
Departure

 
Sunset on the Sea of Cortez

 
GPS tracks of my ride on the Baja Peninsula

Chapter 3: Mexico Part 1

Tuesday, November 9, I woke up on the "mainland" of Mexico in Topolobampo.  I love how that name rolls off the tongue.  Being on the continent now I was a bit disappointed as to what qualifies as a "continental breakfast" in these parts.  Apparently, a slice of toast with jam, a small bowl of fruit and a cup of hot water into which I was to dissolve the Nescafé.  Suitably fortified (?), I rode a short distance to a gas station and fuelled up before riding south, having to choose between the "cuota" road and the "libre" road after about 75 kilometres.  As it was getting properly warm, I thought that going through the small towns and their attendant topes (speed bumps) might not be that much fun so opted to pay the 37 pesos (about $3) to keep the air flowing through my suit on the toll road.  So, I arrived a little earlier than anticipated in Culiacán and when I saw an air-conditioned Starbucks, where I could read my book to get out of the 34 degree heat before checking in at the San Marcos hotel, I pulled over.  A barista asked if I had really ridden my motorbike all the way from Canada when he saw the Canadian flag on my jacket.  Well, only from Las Vegas…  The San Marco hotel certainly had interesting art in the lobby.  Rather erotic really.  Maybe not a place for a lonely motorcycle traveller?  Well, perhaps a walk around town was a good idea.  A short walk from the hotel was the centre of the city and Catedral Basilica de Nuestra Señora del Rosario.  I went inside and at first simply admired the beautiful interior but after a few minutes I ended up in a pew near the front and sat down.  I was overwhelmed with emotion as I thought of Audrey and sat there contemplating life.  While overwhelmed with grief it was so difficult to pull back and look at the big picture and how incredibly lucky I am.  Not just for having had an amazing relationship for 30+ years with my life partner but also for being able to travel as I wished now.

Continental Breakfast

 
Ready to depart

 
The lobby of the San Marcos hotel is... interesting

 
View of Culiacán from the San Marcos

 
Catedral Basilica de Nuestra Señora del Rosario

 
Sat in a pew and just thought about life

 
Why a Coke bottle in their sign?

 
Wednesday was a lovely ride on the "libre" road to Mazatlán and I appreciated the change in vegetation compared to the desert landscape of the Baja.  I swung by the Pueblo Bonito Emerald Bay resort where Audrey and I had stayed on a Spring Break a few years ago.  I had checked it out online since I thought it would be cool to show up at an all-inclusive resort on a motorcycle, but the price was ridiculously high.  I can't recall, but it must have been much more reasonable as part of a package, or we wouldn't have stayed there.  A stop for lunch near the Mazatlán marina at Rico's Café yielded a delicious chicken crepe and a mocha frappe and then I continued on to the Holiday Inn Resort.  (I think it is probably time to disabuse you, dear reader, of the notion that I am some rugged adventure motorcyclist) It was a pleasant enough stay for a couple of nights, and I did lots of walking.  On Friday I met up with John Fitzwater, whom I had first been in contact with over Facebook.  He was on the boat from La Paz and would arrive in Mazatlán in the morning.  I saw the boat from my room so packed up and rode over to our prearranged meeting point; a Starbucks I thought would be easy for him to spot.  We chatted for a while on a wide range of topics; he is a motorcycle tour operator in New Zealand and because of the pandemic his business was shut down, so he was riding his 1974 Norton Commando to South America.  We booked a hotel in Durango and then got going.  At first, I led out of Mazatlán and up the El Espinazo Del Diablo, a famously curvy road over the mountains to Durango.  There is a parallel toll road, so all the trucks and buses were over there and only local traffic and those who specifically wanted to ride the Devil's Backbone were on this road.  I had the impression that John wanted to ride a little faster so waved him ahead.  I was really enjoying riding with someone else.  There were a lot of sports bikes on the road and, come to think of it, some of them looked like pure race bikes without lights but number plates.  The road was a typical Mexican road in that it was fairly rough and had sandy spots and of course no runoff room with cliffs and trees lining the route so I can't imagine trying to get some speed up on it.  Surprisingly we saw only one crash.  When we gassed up in Durango an SUV driver pulled up and started chatting.  I asked him if he knew anything about all the sports bikes we saw on El Espinazo Del Diablo and he said that there was a race on the weekend where they would close the road.  The riders we saw were just getting familiar with the course.  And I thought the Isle of Mann TT would be a death-defying race, this seemed like pure madness.

Libre road towards Mazatlán

 
Entrance to Pueblo Bonito Emerald Bay resort

 
View from the Holiday Inn Resort

 
A lovely spot

 
Beautiful soft sand for walking

 


 I love these "pulmonias", based on VW Beetles

 
John's ferry from La Paz is arriving

 
Now this looks like fun!

 
Meet up with John at a Starbucks

 
Heading up El Espinazo Del Diablo

 


 At the top of a fabulous road

 
A little rain and hail won't slow us down!

 

When we had crossed the mountains, we had gained a lot of elevation, at one point reaching 2,800 metres and Durango was also fairly high.  As a result, it was only 7 degrees Celsius in the morning, a bit cooler than we were used to.  By the time John had taken care of an issue with his rear tire and done some repacking it was getting on 11:00 o'clock when we departed Durango.  We stayed off the toll highway, going through Fresnillo instead.  It wasn't too bad in the slow city traffic with the cooler temperatures.  All the hotels in Zacatecas' centre were booked so we ended up at a City Express on the outskirts.  After getting settled we walked the six kilometres into the centro historico.  We soon found out why the hotels were booked as the centre was bustling with activity on the Revolution Day long weekend (Revolution Day was November 20 but the bank holiday was Monday, November 15).  Zacatecas was captured by Pancho Villa during the Mexican Revolution in 1914 so perhaps it was appropriate that we had dinner at Los Balcones De La Revolución across from the basilica.  The service was glacially slow, and it was actually rather cold sitting on the balcony, but the food was delicious and the atmosphere, watching the bustling activity below, was unbeatable.  We walked back in the general direction of the hotel doing a bit more sightseeing after dark and then caught a cab back.  On Sunday morning John did a bit more work on his bike and re-evaluated his luggage as he was thinking of leaving some of it at a friend's place in San Miguel de Allende.  While he was engaged with that, I did some more digging into why my headlight was still working intermittently.  I found a broken spade connector at the headlight relay and hoped that bending the spade to ensure a better connection would fix the problem.  I also borrowed some black duct tape from John to "repair" the paint that had flaked off the tank.  With John riding up front he was able to verify that the headlight was working properly now.  We had planned a route that would avoid the big city of San Luis Potosí since we weren't interested in taking the toll highway around it.  Unfortunately, John's phone (he was using Google Maps to navigate) was giving him some trouble and we missed the turn.  While my GPS had showed the turn, I just assumed John had something else in mind.  When we got to San Luis Potosí his phone ran out of power and so I rode in front, navigating us through the city and eventually on to the beautiful city of San Miguel de Allende.  John turned off to go to his friend's house and I continued on to Casa Mia Suites.  My goodness, what a lovely hotel, what with the large, two-storey suite decorated with local art.  The only downside being that there was no onsite parking, and the valet parking was (according to the desk clerk) quite a distance from the hotel.  After taking my luggage to the room I parked the bike on the street down the block, locked it up, put it under cover and hoped for the best.  The main square was packed with people enjoying the long weekend and all the restaurants were busy.  Even Starbucks had a line going down the street.  I ended up at a fancy restaurant off a side street where the ribs seemed to be mostly fat and gristle and the artichoke heart floating in the otherwise delicious soup was apparently not for consumption as it was rock hard.  The chocolate mousse for dessert was delicious but didn't save the 900 peso ($70!) meal.

Ready for departure from Durango

 
Normally I wouldn't pass motorcycle cops with their lights on...

 
John riding towards Zacatecas

 
Zacatecas is a beautiful and lively town

 


 Los Balcones De La Revolución is just across the street from the cathedral

 
Pancho Villa

 
A walk after dark in Zacatecas

 
John uses the luggage cart to get his stuff down to the bike

 
Before (honestly it's amazing the paint has lasted this long)

 
After (duct tape is great!)

 
Heading down the highway on a 1974 Norton Commando

 
Entering San Miguel de Allende

 
Wow, the Casa Mia Suites has a beautiful courtyard

 
I love how the room is decorated with local art work

 
Sunset from the rooftop deck over San Miguel de Allende

 
Lively downtown on the Revolution Day long weekend

There was no breakfast included at the Casa Mia (which makes sense since they are suites after all) so I took a chilly walk to the Starbucks (my motorcycle was still where I had left it!).  By the time I finally got on the road it had warmed up a little.  The traffic of course became heavier as I approached Mexico City and the last 10 or 15 kilometres was slogging through it.  Splitting lanes was challenging as the lanes were quite narrow and the bike felt quite wide but overall, the traffic kept moving, hardly ever coming to a complete stand still.  The clutch was dragging a little as the bike got hot, so I had to adjust the cable at the lever while riding.  The European-style Geneve Hotel built in 1907 was a grand hotel in a lively neighbourhood and I had booked it for a couple of nights.  I had just dismounted the bike in the unloading zone of the hotel when a woman approached me and said something unintelligible.  I took off my helmet, removed the earplugs and asked her to repeat what she said.  She asked if I wanted sex.  Maybe this neighbourhood was a little livelier than I wanted.  The next day I walked over to the BMW dealer to see if they had a clutch cable to replace the stolen item but they didn't.  And they didn't have the 2-in-1 gloves in stock that I couldn't purchase in California because of the kangaroo leather.  I tried a few other options for a spare clutch cable but didn't have any success.  It was suggested I could get one made at a shop if my cable did indeed fail so I wasn't too worried about not having the spare.  Audrey and I had spent two weeks in Mexico City in 2017 when we were waiting for our motorcycles to be shipped from Brazil, so we had done all the tourist things and I didn't feel a need to see the sights again.  I was walking around my lively neighbourhood looking for a place for dinner when I was approached by "Frederico."  He seemed friendly enough though a bit pushy when he wanted me to buy some beads or a pen from him.  It was all friendly enough banter until I felt his hand brush my wallet at which point, I backed away and tried to get rid of him, eventually giving him a bit of change.  From then on, I was hyperalert to being pickpocketed and couldn't really relax whenever people were nearby and headed back to the sanctuary of the Geneve.
 

Ciudad Mexico (one of the great cities of the world, you really should go)

 

On Wednesday morning, while packing after breakfast, I was sitting in a chair, and I thought I felt it sway.  Like the chair was a bit wobbly.  Strange.  Then it did that again.  The chair itself was fine so perhaps it was a mild earthquake.  I guess these things are fairly common in Mexico City and no one else seemed to notice, not like the time in Quito when a 6.7 earthquake shook us out of bed and the next day that's all that anyone talked about.  With a foreign registered vehicle (that is, not from Mexico City) I wasn't allowed to ride before 11:00 (or all-day Fridays and Saturdays) due to their strict smog regulations.  So, I took my time before checking out and getting out of Mexico City.  Traffic wasn't too terrible and soon (and with only one wrong turn!) I was climbing on the toll road south towards Puebla.  The road topped out at 3,200 metres and I was finally out of the smog that is Mexico City's curse in the winter.  At that altitude the bike didn't have nearly as much power as at sea level (about 30% less) but still enough to climb the grade faster than the trucks going 5 km/hr.  Down the other side I stayed on the toll road to bypass Puebla.  This was an elevated expressway, and I was rather stunned by the sheer size of Puebla spread out below me.  I was glad to have opted for the toll road.  Looking it up at a coffee shop/gas station a little while later I discovered it is a city of 3.2 million people.  And also, home to the largest pyramid by volume in the world, Tlachihualtepetl.  Well, I guess I'll have to visit that another time.  I arrived in Tehuacán early enough that I could pop over to a lavanderia (laundry) to wash my clothes and was glad for the help the young girl running the place gave me to get the machines going.  Dinner was at a family restaurant, Vips, where the enchiladas in mole sauce were delicious and the mineral water was Canada Dry.  As Vips is a chain I'll have to keep them in mind in my travels further south in Mexico.  Leaving Tehuacan was a bit of a chore on very rough roads and lots of topes, making me rethink my decision to take the libre road, but once I cleared town it was a very pleasant ride on curvy mountain roads.  The road descended to an elevation of 500 metres before climbing back up to 2,200 metres with a commensurate range of temperatures.  About 50 kilometres out of Oaxaca I joined up with the toll road, figuring that minimizing the amount of city riding would be better.  Eventually of course I entered the city proper, and the roads were atrocious, very rough, and dusty with heavy traffic.  I noticed that it seemed like the clutch wasn't disengaging completely, making it difficult to find neutral at stops.  Perhaps the clutch cable had stretched, and I needed to get a new one made up.  When I got to the hotel I had a look and the clutch cable was adjusted all the way out both at the handlebar end and at the clutch end so something was definitely not right.  I didn't have the heart to venture out of the hotel for the dusty 30-minute walk to city centre so instead I did some research on storing the motorcycle in Panama.  I found out that Panama will stamp the motorcycle into your passport so that leaving the country without your bike would be tricky.  Costa Rica was apparently easier so I changed my plans a little so that I would store the bike there and then return in February to complete the ride to the end of the road in Panama and turn around to ride home in the spring.

Wow, now that's going to be a twisty road if it needs two signs

 
Taking a breather from all the curves

 
Someone else enjoying a great ride

 

The first 100 kilometres riding out of Oaxaca on Highway 175 weren't especially enjoyable despite having heard glowing reports how this rivaled even El Espinazo Del Diablo.  But then things changed as the road climbed up into the mountains, started to dance along a ridge at about 2,200 metres and passed through small mountain villages.  Now this was more like it!  As the road descended to the south, I suddenly hit a wall.  A wall of hot, humid air.  I could smell the ocean even though I was still a couple of hours ride away.  I turned off 175 on a smaller, rougher road that was also a lot of fun.  Judging by the looks from the few people I saw, I guessed that they didn't get a lot of tourists through here.  When I finally got to Huatulco I took only a couple of wrong turns before eventually finding the Hotel Coral Blue behind a secure gate, right on the ocean with its own private beach.  Unfortunately, because of the wrong turns I was now behind a family also checking in and they seemed to have an endless series of questions of the desk clerk.  I think I stood in the hot, humid open-air lobby in full motorcycle gear for 20 minutes, sweating up a storm.  Finally checked in, I took my luggage to the elevator to find that it was broken.  So, hauling my bags up three stories while wearing full motorcycle gear in the humid heat had me a bit frustrated.  In the room my key card wouldn't get the electricity (and therefore the air conditioner) to turn on.  Changing into shorts and T-shirt first I found someone to get that sorted out and then went down to the front desk to ask directions to the onsite restaurant.  "Oh, but sir, the restaurant isn't open for dinner.  Just breakfast."  Really, how can an isolated resort like this be without a restaurant?  So back upstairs and put on some long pants and long-sleeved shirt, grabbed my helmet and rode into town, 4 kilometres away.  To be honest, it was probably worth the ride as Juliana's Café had a superb dinner.  Breakfast at the hotel restaurant wasn't all that it cracked up to be either.  After sitting down and trying to get the attention of any wait staff I finally walked up to buffet where there was some fruit and yoghurt available.  I overheard someone say that they had been waiting half an hour since they had ordered and still nothing, so I decided to just hit the road.  First of course I needed to decide which direction to turn when I left the hotel.  Continue my journey south to Panama or turn north to return to San Miguel de Allende where I would be able to get the clutch repaired?  I turned north and set my sights on Acapulco.  At 520 kilometres it was a bit far for one day (especially on the rather meagre breakfast) so I planned to overnight in Ometepec first.  It was mostly four-lane highway northbound up to Puerto Escondido where I stopped for lunch followed by two-lane roads in good condition.  At this lower elevation the bike was running like a champ, with lots of power and passing was lots of fun.  I had confirmed with Alberto in San Miguel de Allende that he could repair my bike, so I booked my flight home for Christmas for Friday, December 3.  Sunday's ride to Acapulco was relatively short so I stopped at an air-conditioned café for a long lunch before going to the hotel to check in.  As I left Starbucks, I shifted up into second gear but when coming to a stop the transmission didn't want to go into first.  Weird.  When I started again from second it wouldn't shift into any other gears either.  It was stuck in second gear and the clutch was still dragging.  Now that was a bit of a pickle.  After checking in I started contacting people, first Alberto in San Miguel de Allende who said he didn't have the tools to take apart the transmission.  Long story short, Carlos at Moto Garage de Charlie in Mexico City was able to do the work and store the bike until I returned in February.  I now had a couple of weeks until my flight to Calgary.  And of course, I needed to get the bike to Mexico City.  I extended my stay in Acapulco until Friday and then planned on taking three days to ride the 400 kilometres from Acapulco to Mexico City in second gear.  At 50 km/hr.

A ridgetop mountain village on Highway 175

 
Yes, 175 is a lot of fun

 
The shortcut via Santa María Huatulco

 
The view from the Hotel Coral Blue (hot and humid)

 
Yay, the moon is still there after last night's total lunar eclipse!

 
It's nice when the topes are signed and an eyeopener when they aren't

 
Lush vegetation down by the coast on the way to Acapulco

 
Lots of river crossings

 


The cattle get a little help from the local police

 
Plaza del Toros in Ometepec (they have bullfighting here?)

 
Catedral Santiago Apostol looks spectacular on a brilliant, blue morning

 
Crossing more rivers on the way to Acapulco

 
Little did I know I wouldn't be seeing these speeds again for a long time

 
Acapulco!

 

Tuesday, I walked to the other side of Acapulco to check out the world famous cliff divers.  What a spectacular show they put on, including climbing the cliff to dive off, wearing nothing but a pair of Speedos.  Back at the hotel when I mentioned to the desk clerk that I had walked to the cliff divers he just looked at me incredulously and said, "From here?!?"  18 kilometres in 31-degree temperatures with high humidity was indeed a pretty good hoof.  Wednesday was a typical resort day with lots of reading, a bit of walking on the beach and watching Foundation on Apple TV+ on the iPad.  Thursday was also a typical resort day in that I went for a nice walk on the beach.  On the way back I thought I would take off my sandals so that I could feel the sand between my toes.  When I first put my bare feet on the coarse, hot sand I thought that it was rather painful but I'm not anything if not stubborn so kept on walking barefoot.  The sand seemed to be made up of sharp, crushed seashells, rather than sand.  By the time I got back to the hotel I thought it was actually even more painful than initially.  That was because by this time the bottoms of my feet had blistered and then the blisters burst so that loose skin was simply hanging from my toes and the balls of my feet exposing the flesh underneath.  It was a struggle to make it up the stairs from the beach to the pool.  After my feet dried, I put the sandals back on (too late!) and went up to the room to assess the damage.  Time for some Polysporin and, since my Band-Aids, moleskin and gauze were stolen along with my first aid kit back in Ventura, I used tissue to wrap around the toes to keep the skin on.  Then I just hoped they wouldn't get infected.  Well, that was pretty stupid.  

Good morning Acapulco!

 
Sunset dinner at Vips

 
Yes, there is still actual fishing in Acapulco

 
Well, it doesn't feel like Copenhagen

 
The famous cliff for the diving

 
Climbing the cliff wearing nothing but Speedos



 
Slow motion of the highest dive of the day

Sunset on Acapulco

Thursday, I didn't want to walk too far so I went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast.  Unfortunately, there was a sports team going in at the same time and about 50 people were lined up.  I limped to a nearby Vips restaurant for breakfast and then, after packing, hobbled over to where the motorcycle was parked and fetched it.  Yep, still stuck in second gear.  At sea level the bike has so much torque (thanks to the Siebenrock big bore kit) that I didn't even need to slip the clutch to start in second, so leaving Acapulco was easy.  Out of Acapulco there is a toll highway parallel to the libre road so all the fast cars, big buses and trucks were over there, and I could cruise along at 50 to 60 km/hr without any worries.  All the small towns with their speed bumps were good opportunities to slow it down even more and the open spaces let me wind the motor out to redline at about 80 km/hr for short bursts.  I made it to Chilpancingo just before 3:00, a distance of a little over 100 kilometres.  It was double that distance on Saturday, November 27, to Cuernavaca though the ride wasn't as pleasant.  This portion of the libre road actually had different destinations than the cuota road so it had a lot of trucks and buses on it along with faster cars.  I kept to the side of the road as much as possible (there wasn't much in the way of a shoulder) and most traffic was able to pass without too much difficulty.  The GPS directions to get to the Fiesta Inn weren't making a whole lot of sense until I found that the hotel had a direct driveway access to the expressway.  And it wasn't very well signed so I ended up doing a couple of passes until I got to it using various service roads, a couple of U-turns and the expressway.  All this with the clutch starting to drag so that at a stop the bike would try to keep moving forward even with the clutch completely pulled in.  I had timed my ride specifically to enter Mexico City on the Sunday so that I didn't run afoul of the smog rules that said I couldn't ride on Friday or Saturday.  It turns out the free road, 95 Libre, was also the local racer road on Sundays.  So, lots and lots of motorbikes and car clubs.  At the top it was almost like the top of the Stelvio Pass in Italy.  I sure missed having some higher gears though as I got blitzed by the sport bikes pretty regularly.  A few helmets on roadside crosses attested to the fact that not every rider made it home.  Looking down on Mexico City I could see that it was smothered in a blanket of smog and as I descended, I could smell it too.  Once the road turned into a four-lane affair I no longer worried about holding up traffic and the final 5 kilometres to the City Express hotel was just slow-moving traffic, not stop and go, that was easy on the clutch.  After checking in I walked over to Moto Garage de Charlie, a little less than 2 kilometres away, to get a feel for how to ride there on Monday and stopped off for a burger on the way back.

2 hours and 40 minutes sounds about right in second gear

 
Yep, 60 km/h is about it

 
I guess I am the tractor everyone else should be aware of

 
Sport bike Sunday on Highway 95 out of Mexico City

 
Near the top reminds me of the Stelvio Pass in Italy

 
Smoggy Mexico City down below

 

On Monday morning I washed and dried my motorcycle gear at a nearby lavanderia and then stuffed it all in the saddlebags of the bike.  While waiting for the laundry I walked over to a laboratory that claimed to be able to the COVID PCR test I needed before flying home to Canada.  They didn't do the PCR test but were able to suggest another lab that could.  In the afternoon I rode over to Moto Garage de Charlie and brought along a printout of the work I wanted done using Google Translate to convert my English to Spanish.  Carlos seemed confident that they could complete the necessary work before my return in February and was also able to store my helmet.  That meant I didn't need to bring any motorcycle gear home and could travel nice and light.  On Tuesday I downloaded the tracks from the GPS and determined I had ridden 7,575 kilometres to this point of the trip, right on the weekly average of 1,000 kilometres per week that Audrey and I usually used for trip planning purposes.  I walked over to the lab for the PCR test, getting there exactly 72 hours prior to departure at 2:05 PM.  The lab tech assured me I would have the results in 24 hours and then I walked in the direction of the Frida Kahlo museum.  I recalled that when Audrey and I had taken an open top bus tour to the museum that her house was located in a lovely neighbourhood.  I recalled correctly, Coyoacán was a beautiful neighbourhood with colourful houses and a bustling park.  When I looked up the lab's website, they indicated no food or drink for four hours before the test so at 3:00 PM I was getting pretty peckish.  A sushi restaurant looked nice but since my command of Japanese is even worse than my command of Spanish it was a bit of a guessing game as to what to order from the menu.  Can't go wrong with ramen noodles and shrimp though.  Sure enough, it was delicious.  Wednesday, I walked more than 22 kilometres, going to a Sanborns department store to purchase N95 masks for the flight home (when maybe some additional protection might worthwhile), back to my favourite neighbourhood, Coyoacán, and then to a restaurant diagonally opposite from the hotel and Coyoacán.  The Potzollcalli restaurant was a bit fancier than the other restaurants in the neighbourhood and I had a Mexican speciality: Arrechera de Tampiquena which was a very flavourful skirt steak.  A bit less walking on Thursday but I still managed to make it over to Coyoacán as well as get some laundry done in preparation for the couple of days it will take me to fly home.  Friday, December 3, I took an Uber to the airport (I tried to get a Beat Tesla, but they were busy) and had no problem at all with check-in, it went very smoothly and quickly.  Soon enough I was jetting my way to Toronto, landing at 7:30 in the evening, and greeted with an enormous, snaking line of people waiting to get through customs.  No physical distancing was possible, and I had visions of this being a superspreader event.  Since the flight arrived in the evening and I had no desire to be on the red eye to Calgary I stayed overnight in an airport hotel to catch the morning flight to Calgary.  I'll come back to Mexico in a couple of months to resume my ride to Panama!

Carlos of Moto Garage de Charlie takes my bike in

 
My favourite neighbourhood in Mexico City

 
Ordering Japanese food in Spanish could be interesting

 
Coyoacán getting ready for Christmas

 
I doubt the flowers will be blooming back home

 
A smog free day and I can see the surrounding volcanoes for the first time

 
That's a lot of walking

 
Coyoacán fountain

 
Mexico City is enormous, I'll be back!

 
Back home with my Sweetheart

 
GPS tracks of my ride through Mexico so far

Chapter 4: Mexico Part 2

I had contacted Carlos at Moto Garage de Charlie a week before my return to Mexico City and confirmed that my bike was indeed repaired, and he gave me a cost estimate for the transmission and clutch work.  The flight back to Mexico City was booked as well as the hotel that was within walking distance of the garage.  So why was I feeling anxious?  It had started a few days before the flight scheduled for February 3, not really an anxiety attack but more a general feeling of unease.  Perhaps it was a recollection of the first half of the trip where I just hadn't found much joy in travelling combined with how nice it had been at home, being able to meet and talk with friends.  So, it didn't come as much of a surprise when on the morning of departure, I went to the cemetery to say goodbye to Audrey and just stood there weeping.  It took an enormous effort to tear myself away and head back to Mom's house where Kim picked me up for a ride to the airport.  The flight to Mexico City, with a stop over in Vancouver was uneventful and it seemed that the anxiety had caught up with me as I slept on the second leg, waking up just 40 minutes before landing at 11:45 PM.  Unfortunately, the luggage took almost an hour to get to the carousel, so it was 1:00 AM by the time I got to the hotel.  Naturally I slept in on Friday morning, so I had to hurry down for the hotel breakfast before they closed.  I walked over to the garage before noon and while waiting for Carlos to finish up work on another bike I chatted with Ruben, a customer.  He gave me some good tips on a route out of Mexico City to Cuetzalan and promised to send me the route on Google Maps.  Ruben was planning to ride to Alaska in June so he might pass through Calgary and if I am not gallivanting somewhere else in the world, perhaps we can hook up.  I had purposely run the bike on reserve so that when the mechanics needed to remove the gas tank, they didn't need to lift 30 kilos of gas.  Now of course the bike was close to empty, and they added a litre to get me to a gas station a couple of blocks away.  Once I filled up at the gas station, the bike wouldn't start.  A flat battery.  It probably hadn't been on a charger the last couple of months.  I pushed it back to the shop and had them put it on a charger while I went for lunch.  Having delicious enchiladas at a hole in the wall restaurant was probably enough time to give the battery a base charge and sure enough it fired right up when I got back.  I did some organizing that afternoon and putting the armour back in the jacket and pants.  I walked to Chester's for dinner, where I had the pizza a couple of months ago and this time had a spaghetti Bolognese.  The tiramisu for dessert was terrible, the cake seemed like it was soaking in water.  The real problem with that was that I was sure I had the tiramisu last time as well.  It was terrible then too.  Saturday I wasn't technically allowed to ride in Mexico City because of the smog regulations, so I walked over to Coyoacán, my favourite neighbourhood in Mexico City, where I did a little trip planning with the information Ruben had given me.

I can see my house as the flight leaves Calgary!

 

My bike is ready for pick up, Ruben is talking with Carlos

 

Saturday stroll around Coyoacán finds this art market set up in the park

 

Lovely neighbourhood

 

The flowers aren't blooming at home anymore

 
Sunday, February 6, the bike started right away and soon I was riding north and then east out of Mexico City.  The traffic wasn't terrible, but it took about an hour to reach the outskirts of the city at Teotihuacán where the pyramids are visible from the road.  Audrey and I had visited the ruins in 2017 and they are spectacular, even from a distance the pyramids seemed enormous.  As the ride took me further from Mexico City, the riding became more enjoyable, especially as the road started climbing into the mountains.  Passing through small villages later in the afternoon there were some interesting celebrations going on.  People in white capes, wearing white face masks and holding ropes were dancing in a circle.  At one point I came to such a celebration taking place in the middle of the road so waited for them to finish.  A young man came over and pretended to take selfies of himself and me.  It was all a bit unnerving and vaguely threatening so I was glad to pass through but was stopped at another dance a hundred metres down the road.  This time I decided to skirt around the dancers, riding along the edge of the road and continue on my way.  February 5 is Constitution Day, and this was the Sunday of the long weekend, but it seemed an odd way to celebrate Constitution Day.  The road to Cuetzalan was fairly rough, with lots of potholes and Ruben had indicated there would be some off-pavement stretches so I wasn't completely surprised to go through Tetela de Ocampo and come out the other side on a gravel road.  I was a little surprised at how steep and at times technical, the road became but thought this must be what Ruben had been referring to.  After a few kilometres of this steep, gravel track I got back to pavement.  It was the same highway I had entered Tetela de Ocampo on a half hour ago.  It seems the GPS decided that a fun little shortcut was in order.  It was still slow going on the potholed road and I made it to Cuetzalan at about 5:00 PM.  The GPS routed me through town to the Posada Molina but a barricade a couple of blocks shy of the town centre redirected me up a steep cobblestone street.  The centre was closed for the Sunday market and perhaps for the Constitution Day festivities and so I had to negotiate my way around the narrow cobblestoned streets though I eventually gave up, went back to the main highway and then approached the hotel from the other side.  The bare, cold room wasn't especially inviting so after unloading the bike I walked back into town.  Much easier on foot.  I had a lovely, traditional dinner overlooking the town plaza and was rather looking forward to the Suspiros de Monja for dessert.  Unfortunately they were out; I was rather hoping that a couple of nun's sighs would keep me warm as the temperature had dropped precipitously when the sun went down.  It had dropped to 13 C and since the room had no heat it felt like the room was also at 13 C.  I bundled up in a couple of shirts and an insulated jacket, kept my socks on and curled up in bed to keep warm.
 

Pyramids of Teotihuacán as seen from the highway

 

Road repair crew takes tips

 

Turn off to Tetela de Ocampo is easy enough (glad I didn't need to ask directions to the first town)

 

Up through ever smaller streets

 

This must be the off-road portion that Ruben had talked about

 

Of course, photos never show the steepness

 

Back on the highway after the GPS shortcut

 

Celebrating Constitution Day? (A little intimidating with the lynching rope...)

 

Roads through towns were sometimes closed because of the festivities but the detours were nice

 

The cobblestone street leading back out of Cuetzalan

 

The town square in Cuetzalan

 

These streets were difficult to negotiate on the motorbike

 

Dinner overlooking the town plaza

 

Yummy, Suspiros de Monja!  But Nun's Sighs denied.

 
My feet were like cubes of ice on Monday morning but at least the shower was hot (once I turned down the volume as it seemed like an on-demand water heater) and soon enough I had defrosted enough to go down for breakfast.  After chatting with a couple of Mexican riders, I had to backtrack about 20 kilometres to resume my ride in the direction of Veracruz.  I decided to go the long way around Cuetzalan rather than through the centre of town and its cobblestone streets again.  The cloud forest lived up to its name and soon enough I was riding in a chilly fog.  At times the fog was quite thick and even 30 km/hr seemed too fast on the winding, mountain road.  Once down from the clouds it was more pleasant riding and for the second half of the trip, I took the cuota road.  Soon I was riding through the centro historico of Veracruz looking for my hotel.  The streets were deserted which I thought was rather odd until I remembered that Monday was the bank holiday of the Constitution Day long weekend.  A "Norte" had blown up as I approached the coast, resulting in a nice tailwind as I rode into town but made for a cold, windy town plaza for dinner.  So, I had a seafood gumbo inside one of the restaurants on the square.  Tuesday was a non-travel day and I explored Veracruz, read my book (Termination Shock by Neal Stephenson is a great climate fiction novel) and worked on the website.  I never did get the Surface Pro to export the website, so I ended up taking the 2011 Sony VIAO on this trip, and that's what I was writing on while sitting at the Italian Coffee Company with a cappuccino.  I am not a coffee drinker, but I believe cappuccinos are better at the top of a mountain pass in the Italian Dolomites.

Fellow motorcyclists

 

Heading into the cloud forest

 

The fog was thick at times

 

Crumbling architecture of Veracruz

 

A car carrier at the Veracruz docks

 

Your new BMW is on the way!

 

The "Norte" wind that had blown in closed the pier

 
Wednesday, I made up for Tuesday's non-riding day by spending nine hours in the saddle.  I didn't plan it that way but that's what happens when you decide to take a more interesting road on the spur of the moment.  I planned to stop at Tlacotalpan for lunch (as per Ruben's recommendation) but when plotting the route on the GPS I couldn't force it to take the back roads without adding a whole bunch of waypoints.  I had given up and was planning to take the main road directly there.  Once on the highway though I saw a sign for a town I recognized from my GPS plotting.  I looked down the road and it was a decent, paved road so I thought, "What the heck, let's just go for it.  What could go wrong?"  The first part of the ride was pleasant, and I was really enjoying being away from the higher speed traffic and the trucks.  The road did get narrower and became a little rougher as time went on.  Soon there were cattle guards (Texas gates) frequently across my path and the occasional cow.  The GPS had managed to find a route, so I was able to follow the directions to what looked like a major highway where I hoped to get to Tlacotalpan by lunch time.  The paved road deteriorated to a gravel road and then to a dirt track and eventually a cow path.  The cow path ended at a barbed wire gate blocking a bridge over a four-lane divided superhighway but no entrance to the highway.  So close!  Across the bridge I spied a dirt track that connected with the highway, so I pulled aside the barbed wire and rode across the bridge.  Made it!  I had cruised at a good clip for a few kilometres when I came to a toll booth.  This was the first toll booth in Mexico where the attendant asked to see a ticket.  Of course, I didn't have a ticket since I had gained access to the highway via irregular means.  So, he charged me the maximum amount of 97 pesos (about $7) making this the most expensive toll road for the shortest distance I had taken in Mexico.  Just beyond the toll station I took the exit to head north to Tlacotalpan.  This area was a sugar cane capital of Mexico and it seemed like the harvest was just coming in as there were lots of slow-moving tractors (with six trailers in tow) and trucks loaded with sugar cane.  What was nice was that even when the speed bumps weren't signed you could tell where they were because of the dropped sugar cane but it was slow going and I didn't arrive in Tlacotalpan until 2:00 PM.  Too bad the Cielito Lindo Crepes & Café was closed as I had really been looking forward to the crepes.  The fish at the Hotel Posada Doña Lala restaurant was delicious however, more than making up for it.  The GPS (and Google Maps on the phone) wanted to route me back south through the sugar cane traffic and on to the toll road.  Since I had already had all the fun I needed playing with the sugar cane tractors I forced the GPS to take the northern highway, 180, through the lovely lakeside town of Catemaco.  All that to say that I ran out of daylight about 45 minutes out from my hotel in Coatzacoalcos.  As everyone knows, you should never ride after dark, and this ride confirmed why.  Oncoming traffic's headlights were dazzling and once in the city, the streetlights were patchy.  Riding slowly in the right lane in one of these dark patches I suddenly saw a large tractor tire in my peripheral vision.  I missed it by a few centimetres.  It was being used to warn of a large hole in the road, though in the dark, hitting a black tire could have been just as deadly as the hole.  As you can imagine, I was quite relieved to arrive at the Fiesta Inn at 7:00 PM.

Something doesn't look right.  Is this a real Boston Pizza?  The logo looks familiar but not the name.

 

The roads get smaller and while traffic is less, cows are more

 

Lots of cattle guards

 

Sugar cane harvesting

 

OK, now it is really turning into a cow path

 

And then a barbed wire gate at the highway

 

Sugar cane tractors with six trailers driving very slowly

 

A sugar refinery with the tractors lined up for delivery

 

In time for lunch

 

Delicious tilapia fish

 

A tire I barely missed in the dark would probably have been like this

Thursday's ride wasn't nearly as exciting as the previous day, thank goodness.  I left Coatzacoalcos at about 10:00 AM, stopping first at a fake, tourist pyramid on the malecón and then over a toll bridge on the way out of town.  I stopped in the suburbs of Villahermosa for lunch, though I had heard (from Ruben) that the centre was especially beautiful, and then continued on to the Chan-Kah Resort in Palenque.  As I walked to my cabaña I could hear howler monkeys but couldn't see them.  On Friday I hopped on the bike and rode the three kilometres to the Zona Arqueológica Palenque.  It was 97 pesos for the national park, 85 pesos to visit the ruins and I paid 40 pesos to a fellow to watch my bike.  So now I was out of cash and couldn't buy any souvenirs or hire a guide.  As I had done a fair bit of reading on the web, I didn't think I missed the guide too much, but a good guide can really bring a site to life.  How do you ensure you get a good guide though?  I enjoyed wandering amongst the ruins, marvelling at how they had been cut out of the jungle.  Less than 10% of the site has been excavated with a thousand structures still covered by jungle.  A trail led down a hill to a lovely waterfall though the return trail was blocked off and I had to backtrack the same route uphill.  I spied a howler monkey in the canopy of the forest, but it was impossible to get a photo.  I left the site at lunch time and headed into the town of Palenque to find a bank and then have a bite to eat.  The ham sandwich came with some peppers in a small plastic container that I was to use as a garnish, but my eyes started watering just when I opened the container.  Spicy!  Dinner at the hotel that evening was a delicious chicken breast in a coffee sauce.  No peppers.

A fake, tourist pyramid on the Coatzacoalcos malecón on the way out of town

 

Arriving at the resort near the Palenque ruins

 

You can almost hear the howler monkeys

 

OK, not a howler monkey but rather some other local fauna

 

Mayan ruins at Palenque

 

 

Only 10% of the ruins have been excavated

 

Beautiful waterfalls at the ruins

 

Relaxing by the pool in the evening

 
Saturday, I rode back to the ocean and up to Campeche.  The ride through town revealed the 17th century fortifications and overall, it looked like the kind of place that would be fun to explore.  I was here for just the one night though but Saturday night the malecón was hopping with activity.  Various groups came to pose before the Campeche sign in front of the hotel and when I went down after dark, lots of people were strolling.  I heard some music and saw something happening further down that turned out to be dancing water fountains.  Rivalling even those of the Bellagio.  Sunday morning, I took advantage of the malecón and went for a good walk before heading to Merida on the Yucatan peninsula.  I did have a couple of check points along the route, the first police check I was simply waved through, but at the military check I was pulled over and my duffle bag examined.  It was fun joking with the officers though.  After lunch in Meridan I took the local roads to Chichén Itzá and around to my hotel, the Villas Arqueologicas.  Passing by the main entrance for the park, cars were parked on the shoulder for several kilometres in each direction.  Must be busy at the park on this Sunday.  That was of course a precursor for Monday morning.  As the back entrance to the park had been closed during COVID I had to ride around back to the main entrance.  The car in front of me was turned away as the parking lot was full but there was room for a bike even though the price to park the bike was the same as for a car or bus at 80 pesos.  There was a crowd of people near what looked like the ticket booths, so I lined up there and waited my turn.  There was a large sign above the booth saying that the cost for entry was 486 pesos plus 85 pesos for a total of 571.  She only charged me 486 though and gave me a receipt.  OK, maybe a special on today?  I lined up to enter where they scanned my ticket and then another station where someone asked for the second ticket.  The one I didn't have.  Line up again (like a polite Canadian) and buy the 85 peso ticket and then line up to enter one more time.  This time of course the scanner showed that I had already entered so wouldn't let me in and I had to go around the turnstile to where they could take the second ticket.  Finally, after an hour I was in.  Well, the main pyramid was indeed spectacular though it was unfortunate that people weren't allowed to climb it anymore.  Perfectly understandable though with the huge crush of people and the risk of people falling off while taking selfies.  In addition to the site itself I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of souvenir sellers.  They lined almost all the pathways, selling their trinkets.  Time to relax back at the hotel.
 

I love taking the smaller, rural roads

 

A statue of Pancho Villa in his classic pose

 

Back near the ocean on the way to Campeche

 

A lovely (OK, perhaps creepy) Valentines greeting to Sabancuy

 

Campeche malecón

 

Dancing water fountains to rival the Bellagio

 

Any police force that uses Renault's Twizy is OK by me

 

Lots of cars on Sunday afternoon parked near the front gate of Chichén Itzá

 

Monday morning was busy too

 

But completely worth it!

 



 

Lots of souvenir stalls on site

 

The cenote for the water supply (did you know that there are no overland rivers on the Yucatan?)

 

More souvenirs

 

 

The observatory

 


I debated whether or not to go to Cancún as I wasn't really planning a beach vacation and the all-inclusive resorts were crazy expensive for just one night.  In the end, I decided that it would be interesting to at least ride by those resorts.  It was an easy ride, though leaving Chichén Itzá it was a steady stream of buses heading the opposite direction.  After fueling up in Valladolid (terrible fuel economy from pushing a headwind on the autopista a couple of days ago) I looked at the GPS for my estimated arrival time and was surprised that it was so late.  Usually, the speeds estimated by the GPS have been a bit low in Mexico and I was usually able to arrive earlier than the estimated time.  This seemed more than that though.  Then I noticed that the time on the GPS was an hour ahead of the clock on the bike.  I had transitioned to the Eastern Time Zone.  A few years ago, the state of Quintana Roo, where Cancún is situated, changed their time zone to better match the tourists from the east coast of the U.S. and Ontario/Quebec.  I rode through the hotel strip on the way to my downtown hotel and I couldn't help thinking that it reminded me more of Las Vegas than anything I had seen in Mexico so far.  Wednesday morning, I woke up and looked outside.  On the street in front of the hotel was one of the buses headed for Chichén Itzá, loading up at 7:00 AM.  That's going to be a long day for them.  For me it was going to be a short ride to Tulum, but first I stopped in at Puerto Morelos.  Dave Coulson (whom Audrey and I had met in Switzerland on our first trip back in 2002) had suggested a visit to a bookshop there.  Puerto Morelos, while still having lots of tourists, was more laid back than Cancún and a pleasure to visit and Alma Libre Books & Gifts was a real gem.  I perused their selection of books and decided to get an adventure map of Belize and then chatted with a customer and the Canadian owner (originally from Golden B.C.) about my trip.  I took the map next door to a café and planned my trip through Belize over a chilli chocolate mocha.  From there it was a short hop to Tulum where I arrived at the La Diosa resort a bit too early for check-in as they hadn't cleaned my cabaña.  After dumping my stuff and getting out of my warm motorcycle gear I headed for the beach.  Tulum seemed to be a bit of a young person's party place, so it was a lot of fun just strolling the beach.  The Mayan ruins were just a couple of kilometres up the beach and were simply spectacular to behold.  One of the iconic images of Mexico.  In the morning I went for breakfast and was told it wouldn't be ready until 8:30 so I thought I might as well go to check out the Mayan ruins which were supposed to open at 8:00.  There were a few people at the entrance when I arrived at 8:20 but not wanting to stand I found a tree stump nearby and sat down.  Perhaps they were to open at 8:30 but there was no sign of activity as that time came and went.  A few more people started lining up and by 8:45 I thought I should probably line up or it would be like Chichén Itzá again.  Sure enough, more and more people came to line up, including large tour groups.  The gates opened at 9:00 and it took about a half hour to get my ticket and get inside.  Tulum was one of the last Mayan sites to be abandoned, in the 16th century, and is one of the best-preserved coastal Mayan sites.  Tulum's wall and cliffside location showed how important defense was to the Maya for this important port city.  As with Chichén Itzá there were a lot of visitors to the site but fortunately no souvenir stalls and the site was relatively small, so it didn't take long for me to get a feel for the site and walk back to the La Diosa for a late breakfast.  It was getting on 11:30 by the time I hit the road south.  It was a bit of a choice whether or not to put on the rain gear when it was obvious it was going to start coming down soon since it was still quite warm.  Put on the sweat box or just ride through it and hope it dries out before getting to Chetumal?  In the end I chose the sweat box alternative and that worked out since it rained quite hard at times and the streets of Chetumal were partially flooded.  Upon arrival at the hotel, I organized my paperwork for tomorrow's border crossing into Belize. As of a couple of days prior, on February 15, Belize had instituted a new rule in the wake of COVID; that it was necessary to purchase Belizean medical insurance even if you had your own (as I did).  It was possible to purchase it online so hopefully that would save a step on Friday.  I also took my own COVID test as Belize was going to do one upon arrival at their border.  At least if I tested positive now, I wouldn't have checked out of Mexico yet.  But it was negative.  Whew.
 

Departing from Chichén Itzá

 

Lots of buses coming to Chichén Itzá in the morning

 

Lots

 

And lots of sellers along the road to Chichén Itzá

 

OK, the VW Beetle might be a touch overloaded

 

Cancún's hotel strip looked like it was lifted straight from Las Vegas

 

7:00 AM departure to Chichén Itzá from Cancún

 

Stopping in Puerto Morelos at the book shop

 

My new map of Belize and a chilli chocolate mocha

 

The road running behind the beach hotels in Tulum is pretty busy

 

OK, now I know I am at the right hotel: La Diosa

 

My cabaña at La Diosa

 

Spectacular beach at Tulum with Mayan ruins on the hill

 

I'm no sailor but this sailboat doesn't look so good

 

Nice soft sand, no blisters like in Acapulco!

 

Mayan ruins

 

Oh oh, a big lineup at Tulum.  I hope it's not too busy.

 

What a spectacular location

 

Tulum was one of the last Mayan settlements to be abandoned; in the 16th century

 

Though not completely abandoned, here's a current resident

 


When I was home for Christmas and the bike was getting repaired in Mexico City, I took the opportunity to get a new passport since my old passport was getting close to full, with only four blank pages left.  I was anticipating that this could cause problems as the Temporary Vehicle Import Permit for the motorcycle I had obtained upon entry to Mexico last October had my old passport number on it.  Since my Spanish is so poor, I didn't think I would be able to explain that to a customs officer, so I used Google Translate to write out my story and then translate it to Spanish.  It was only 12 kilometres to the border on Friday, February 18, and I first arrived at the Immigration booth where I showed my new passport (since that's the one that I used to get into Mexico most recently) and I asked where Banjercito was located to clear the TVIP.  It took a little while to find it as it wasn't on any sign on the outside of any of the buildings but once I did the customs agent came out and checked out the bike and the VIN, comparing that with the TVIP.  No questions about the passport, I should get my refund on the next business day.  So that was an easy exit from Mexico, now to cross the bridge into Belize.  The one thing that really stood out for me about my travels in Mexico was how large and varied it was.  I know people who return again and again to Mexico, and I could certainly understand that.  From the empty desert of the Baja; to cosmopolitan Mexico City; to the colonial mountain towns like San Miguel de Allende; to the Mayan ruins in the jungles of the Yucatan, Mexico has a lot to offer and a lot to explore.
 

Jaguar crossing!  (hopefully only at night)

 

I can see Belize!

 

"Here Begins Mexico" but for me, this is the end of Mexico and the beginning of Belize

 

Map of my route

Hit the "Top" button on the lower right of the screen to return to the menu
 

Chapter 5: Belize

After checking out of Mexico (passport stamped and applied for the refund of the Temporary Vehicle Import Permit) on the morning of Friday, February 18, I crossed the bridge to Belize.  The process to enter Belize was fairly lengthy but it was a linear process and it helped that English is the official language of Belize.  First up was the mandatory purchase of Belizean medical insurance (even if you already have your own) which I had bought online the evening before, so I just showed my insurance form on the phone. Next it was the mandatory rapid COVID test (US $50) and waiting for the results.  I had taken a rapid test myself at the hotel so I was reasonably confident it would return a negative result and 20 minutes later it did.  Next door was the station to pay for the fumigation of the bike, though they never actually fumigated the bike but at least I had the paperwork to prove I paid for it.  Next, I could ride to immigration to get the passport stamped and pay for the road tax for the bike.  One final check to leave the compound to make sure I had done everything and then across the street to purchase the vehicle insurance.  And I was in Belize!  I stopped at the next town a few kilometres down the road for a snack and a Coke and then resumed my ride to Belize City, a distance of about 150 kilometres.  My GPS map of Belize was having a little trouble routing to the hotel (reverting to the base map), so I pulled over at a gas station in the shade and replotted the route.  While off the bike I noticed oil leaking from the driveshaft housing.  This should be dry, so the only plausible explanation was that the seal at the transmission was leaking oil into the housing.  When I got to the Ramada, I had a closer look and sure enough there was a steady drip of oil.  Well, that might change the trip.  Again.  Belize had an entry requirement that you must stay in a Gold Standard hotel, that's why I was staying at the Ramada.  After getting settled in, I went for a walk around Belize City.  I thought that it was really cool how the people and cultures had changed on the ride down.  Near the border with Mexico, it still had a Latin American feel but now it seemed like I had been transported to the Caribbean.  People were Black and spoke with that lovely Caribbean English accent.  It was also obvious that, despite things being quite expensive, Belize was a poorer nation than Mexico with dilapidated houses being more of the norm.  I searched for a restaurant that offered some local cuisine but ended up at the Chon Saan Palace for delicious Chinese food.  At least it was a local institution, having been in business since the 1970s.

Negative COVID test result

 

Crossing the bridge to Belize to start the entry process

 

Riding south towards Belize City

 

Oil leaking from the driveshaft is a bad thing (there should be no oil in it!)

 

Ramada in Belize City

 

Walking around Belize City

 

Vaccinate!

A nice surprise at the breakfast buffet was the availability of black tea, in Mexico the tea selection was usually limited to apple or herbal teas, and I had seriously considered taking up drinking coffee.  After breakfast I walked over to the Belize Museum, housed in a former jail.  A friendly fellow on a bicycle stopped to see how I was doing and rode alongside me to the museum.  Of course, for his "guiding" he needed a bit of tip.  I offered him four Belizean dollars, equivalent to US$2 (Belize is tied to the U.S. dollar), but he said that wasn't nearly enough, suggesting B$20.  Ah, no.  B$9 seemed more than enough to me so that's what I gave him and entered the museum.  I was asked for my vaccination certificate, and I was happy to provide my Alberta proof of vaccination but thought it odd that I wasn't asked to show that upon entry to the country considering the 11-step process the get in.  The lower level of the museum was dedicated to the history of Belize, revolving mostly around the slave trade.  Slave labour provided the basis for the timber industry in British Honduras (renamed Belize in 1973) and explains the cultural roots of current-day Belize.  The slave trade was part of a three-way system, bringing manufactured goods from Europe to be traded for slaves in Africa who were then brought to the Caribbean and traded for agricultural goods that were brought to Europe.  The slave trade lasted for about 400 years.  Upstairs was an art exhibit examining the artistry of Belizean artist Pen Cayetano, one of Belize's most prolific artists.  I really enjoyed his colourful, vibrant work.  A short walk along the shore, via the lighthouse and the "Belize" sign led me to Martha's Café.  A yoga session was going on inside, so I took a seat on the balcony overlooking the harbour.  The Mediterranean bowl was delicious and definitely the healthiest food I've eaten on the entire trip.  I found a motorcycle shop in Belize City on Google Maps and when I got back to the hotel, I rode over there so that they could have a look at the oil leak.  I was riding down some dirt roads, where the houses were perhaps even more dilapidated than downtown, and I couldn't find any sign of the shop.  I was stopped, looking at the GPS, when a police pickup truck pulled up.  The officers asked if I was lost (I imagine I must have looked rather out of place) and when I explained I was looking for a motorcycle shop they suggested to follow them to where they thought it might be.  No luck.  So, then they said they knew a mechanic that might be able to help.  Again, traversing the dirt streets, filled with muddy potholes, we ended up in front of a house with corrugated metal fencing.  The mechanic came out and had a look at the bike but, if I'm being honest, I didn't really get a good feeling about his abilities.  Fortunately, he confessed that he probably wouldn't be able to do it.  In the meantime, the police were out of their pickup truck, and we were chatting with the mechanic and about Belize in general.  When we were wrapping up, they suggested that I wasn't in an especially good part of town and gave me directions back to the tourist-friendly part of Belize City.  The whole exchange, from the moment the police first met me, happened in English and I thought how this would have transpired in Spanish.  I'm sure it would have worked out, but it wouldn't have led to a conversation and friendly banter with the mechanic and the police.  Must work on my Spanish!  On Sunday I popped back to Martha's Café and since there wasn't a yoga session going on I could sit inside with a power plug for the laptop and start writing up Chapter 4 of the website.  The veggie power bowl was good, but the turmeric spice latte ice cream was simply amazing.  Worth the trip to Belize.  Later in the afternoon, back at the hotel, I topped up the transmission with oil I had picked up at a Shell station.  It took half a litre, which was quite a bit more than I expected but I guess it was now overflowing from a full driveshaft housing and had been leaking out of the transmission ever since I left Mexico City.  As it was a Sunday evening, I thought I would splurge and go to a fancy restaurant for dinner.  I had seen the Midtown on one of my walks so thought I would try it out.  I am sure that a ribeye steak wasn't traditional Belizean cuisine but it sure was delicious.  In hindsight, perhaps it wasn't an especially good decision to walk over to the Scotia Bank after dinner in the dark.  There were a few areas with poor lighting that had me a bit nervous, recalling the police officer's admonition about a bad area of town, but overall I didn't feel uncomfortable walking by myself.  Unfortunately though, there was no Scotia Bank when I got there.  I decided to walk back through a residential area, and it was a little livelier plus it was neat peaking in people's houses as I walked by.

The Belize Museum is in the old jail house

 

History of slavery in Belize

 

The slave ships were simply insane. This diagram shows the official stowage of the slaves but in reality they were crammed in even tighter.

 

Pen Cayetano exhibit upstairs

 

Love the bright colours

 

Houses a bit dilapidated

 

Light at the harbour entrance

 

Welcome!

 

On the balcony of Martha's Cafe

 

Next day back in Martha's

 

Caribbean Sea

Sometimes it has been difficult getting motivated, which I know must sound odd since I am literally living the dream.  I am riding my motorbike in Belize for crying out loud!  I had a bit of a grief meltdown Monday morning, where I just curled up in bed thinking of Audrey, but eventually I was able to get my sorry butt going and I loaded up the bike.  Belize City is the largest city in Belize (though not the capital) but it is still relatively small and it didn't take long to get out on the open highway.  The riding was easy and the drivers not terribly aggressive with speeds fairly low.  I could have gone to Belmopan (the capital) and then down the Hummingbird Highway but instead I turned off on the Coastal Highway.  This was a bit shorter plus since I was planning to come up the Hummingbird Highway, I prefer taking a different road if possible.  Unfortunately, the entire length of the Coastal Highway was under construction, so it was lots of gravel and detours around bridges being built.  At one point I was standing on the footpegs because the road was fairly rough when an SUV pulled up beside me.  It had an amber flashing light on top, so I assumed it was some kind of construction vehicle.  They motioned for me to pull over.  I couldn't quite make out the accent of the person in the passenger seat (maybe Australian?) but he was curious as to why I was on this road.  I guess not a lot of foreigners go this way.  He gave me some advice to watch myself in Dangriga as it had a reputation for being a rough town and then they drove away.  A few moments later as I was putting my gloves on, a local pickup truck pulled up and the people inside asked if I was OK.  It was nice that so many people were concerned for my welfare.  I rode behind the pickup truck for a while and then we exchanged waves when they pulled off.  Dangriga didn't look too bad as I rode through town on the way to the Pelican Beach Resort.  The resort was beautiful, and my balcony had a terrific view of the beach.  I immediately regretted staying an extra night in Belize City, so I cut my time in San Ignacio back from two nights to one and then booked another night here.  Like a lot of places in the world, Belize hadn't recovered completely from the impacts of the pandemic and the Pelican Beach Resort was no different.  Their restaurant wasn't fully staffed yet and as a result they only provided room service for dinner.  While I could certainly understand the rationale, eating by myself in my room was not an experience I enjoyed.  The next day I spent enjoying the resort.  I also walked over to the airport (3 minutes away) and got a rapid COVID test that I would need to cross into Guatemala.  While the government test when I entered Belize was US $50 this one was US $75 as it was performed by a private agency.  I was glad that I didn't need the PCR test as that was US $200.

Packed up and leaving the Ramada

 

Easy riding on the Western Highway towards Belmopan

 

The Coastal Highway was another story, being under construction

 

Bridge work detour

 

This looks like it could be nice

 

Yep, that view is wonderful

Belize is famed for its amazing cays and the world's second largest reef.  A motorcycle isn't especially conducive to exploring those, so I hadn't planned on doing any water-based activities.  Too bad I hadn't been thinking of that because when I checked out, I found out that the Pelican Beach Resort had a sister resort on one of the cays and they had boat rides there so I could have left my bike at Pelican Beach.  I think I will need to come back to Belize and plan for more water time.  Perhaps when Onno comes this way in his sailboat I could join him.  On Wednesday, February 23, I rode the Hummingbird Highway towards Belmopan and had me thinking that it would have been preferrable to ride this up and down rather than the under-construction Coastal Highway.  It was just beautiful, riding through the jungle with some hills and curves for entertainment and again, very little traffic.  I didn't enter Belmopan but skirted its western side to turn on to the Western Highway towards San Ignacio where I had lunch at the New French Bakery.  A delicious sub made with fresh bread.  Yum.  I had originally planned to spend two nights here so that I could have a day for exploring the nearby Xunantunich Mayan ruins.  Of course I stayed an extra day at Pelican Beach so after I dropped my luggage at the Rumors Resort, I rode 8 kilometres to the ruins.  Turning off the highway I crossed the Mopan River on a hand crank (!) ferry and rode a further 1.5 kilometres to the ruins.  I was glad I hadn't used a whole day as the area was quite small and there were only half a dozen visitors, making it an easy site to explore without any pressure.  Xunantunich controlled the upper part of the Belize Valley during its heyday and lasted a century longer than other Mayan civilizations perhaps because it was easily defended from its hilltop location.  El Castillo, at 40 metres tall and situated on a hilltop allowed spectacular views and I was able to enjoy the views because this was the first temple I could climb (not permitted at Palenque, Chichén Itzá or Tulum).  The nearby villages I could see were actually in Guatemala, only a few hundred metres away.  Back at the hotel I enjoyed one of the few "authentic" Belizean meals of my time here, Jerk Pork Chops, and then organized my paperwork for tomorrow's border crossing.  I had set a schedule for myself in the initial planning of the second part of my trip and that was to be at the Mayan ruins of Tikal, on top of a temple at sunrise, for Audrey's birthday on February 25.  Now I was only a couple of days and a border crossing away from that goal.

Riding north on the Hummingbird Highway

 

Skirting Belmopan

 

Kids playing in the river

 

Lunch in San Ignacio

 

Belize uses miles and gallons!

 

Here comes the ferry

 

El Castillo as you enter Xunantunich

 

Impressive, 40 metres tall

 

You can climb the temple!

 

Some of the friezes are still on the temple

 

 

Does anyone else see a two-headed dog?

 

Guatemala is only 800 metres away

 

View over Xunantunich from El Castillo

 

Hello!

 

The small site was easy to visit in an afternoon

 

Hand crank ferry

 

Hand crank ferry in action

Belize had been a surprise; I hadn't thought that you could just ride your motorcycle to the Caribbean.  I really enjoyed the Caribbean culture (and the opportunity to speak English!) but to truly experience Belize I think it is necessary to get out on the water to explore the cays and reefs.  I'll have to come back for that!
 

GPS tracks through Belize   

 


Back to Top

Chapter 6: Guatemala

I left the Rumors Hotel, on February 24, and rode past the hand crank ferry that led to Xunantunich and another five kilometres to the border.  Exiting Belize was fairly straightforward (including a US$20 departure tax) but entering Guatemala was a little trickier.  Not that it was complicated, it was the usual fumigation, pay for the fumigation, fill in a form for the immigration so that the passport can get stamped and then do the Temporary Vehicle Import Permit.  The TVIP process was made easier by a friendly customs officer, and I had seemed to pick up a helper.  The helper showed me where to get some photocopies made and he also went to the nearest bank (almost a kilometre away) to pay the 160 quetzales import fee.  Considering it was 30 degrees, the 40 QTZ I paid him was well worth not having to walk two kilometres in my motorcycle gear.  In the meantime, a family of five from Ottawa had entered the building and I chatted with them a bit.  Rick and Melanie had packed up the kids in August of 2020 and hit the road in their Sequoia SUV. My helper returned and I was able to finish the TVIP process, applied the windshield sticker that indicated I had paid the fee to my saddlebag lid and rode off.  I saw Rick walking to the bank and offered him a lift, but he declined, which was totally understandable considering how dirty the bike was, covered in transmission oil.  The riding was easy as there was little traffic, and what little there was, was slow moving and for the most part the pavement quality was good.  Well, except for a couple of kilometres of rough gravel.  I turned north towards Tikal and stopped at the Cahui restaurant in El Remate for a spaghetti lunch overlooking Lago Petén Itzá.  Then it was to the park entrance where I paid for a day pass to the ruins (good for the day, but not sunrise or sunset) as well as the sunrise visit tomorrow.  I was given a ticket with a timestamp and told to obey the 45 km/h speed limit then rode through the park to the Jaguar Inn, right next to the Mayan ruins of Tikal.  The Ottawa family was staying at the same hotel, so I joined them for dinner that evening.  What an adventure they were having!

Leaving Belize

 

The roads in Guatemala look great

 

Well, except for this unpaved bit

 

Lunch on Lago Petén Itzá

 

Entering the national park

 

Since there were no curves, I guess this means "snakes" ahead

Audrey's birthday has always been an extra special day, especially when we were travelling.  How could I forget the sunrise balloon flight over the Serengeti in 2008 or crossing the Drake Passage towards Antarctica in 2017?  So, I had planned to do something special on February 25 on this trip too.  Watching the sunrise from Temple IV at Tikal certainly seemed to fit the bill.  Just like that balloon flight, this entailed getting up at 4:15 AM to meet the guide at 4:30.  A group of three people joined me, and we walked with the guide a couple of hundred metres to the entrance where we were given wristbands before entering the ruins.  I told my group that it was Audrey's birthday today and I appreciated that they were able to share this special moment.  I am not sure how our guide spotted the fox, the tarantula in a tree or the spiders on the ground in the dark but he did.  Temple IV is on the far side of the ruins from the entrance, and it was 5:30 AM by the time we got there.  Sunrise was at 6:20 and by 6:00 there were about 20 people sitting on the steps facing east in anticipation.  But the mist was so thick that while it got lighter, we couldn't really see more than a few metres.  By 6:30 it was obvious that we weren't going to see the sun rise.  It was interesting listening to the jungle wake up, but it wasn't the magical experience I had been hoping for.  We rejoined our guide, who hadn't climbed the temple, and wound our way back to the entrance.  He took us to the Great Plaza and by the time we got there the mist had lifted enough that we were able to see Temple II and the Jaguar Temple.  The guide had lots of great information, such as the Mayan calendar (one year is 18 months of 20 days each plus 5 special days) and the counting system.  What a sophisticated society the Maya must have had.  Walking through the jungle we heard a bit of racket ahead of us.  It was a troupe of spider monkeys having a bit of a tussle, chasing each other through the canopy and raining branches and coconuts down to the ground.  Fortunately, we managed to avoid getting bombarded on the way out of the park.  We were back at the hotel by about 8:00, in time for breakfast.  At 10:00 I went back into the park by myself and spent the day exploring.  Tikal is enormous and even though it was quite busy (not Chichén Itzá busy) sometimes I could go 20 minutes without seeing another soul as I walked along jungle tracks.  Just spider and howler monkeys for company.  An observation platform was set up on the Pyramid of the Lost World and it had a great view of Temple IV as well as the temples at the Great Plaza.  I went back to Temple IV now that the mist had cleared and just sat there enjoying the view and reflecting how Audrey would have enjoyed this so much.  The view was oddly familiar, and I had a couple of bars on my cell phone, so I did a bit of a Google search.  I was on the Rebel Base in Star Wars IV.  On our first big trip we had visited the set for Tatooine in Matmata, Tunisia, also for Star Wars IV so I'm sure Audrey would have loved that connection as well.  That evening I had a surprisingly delicious chocolate cake for dessert for Audrey's birthday.  I chatted with a girl from Belgium who had skipped the sunrise tour (she heard it could be misty) and had done the sunset tour instead.  After dark they were on the observation platform at the Pyramid of the Lost World and had their guide give a description of Mayan astronomy, including the use of reflecting pools as mirrors.  That sounded amazing.  Plus, you didn't have to get up at 4:15 AM.  
 

At 5:34 AM on top of Temple IV on February 25

 

That's all the sunrise we're going to get

 

Mayan numerals

 

Spider monkey

 

Fox coming down the temple

 

And across the plaza

 

Mist has lifted enough to see the Grand Plaza

 

The small circle in the middle of the plaza is used for ceremonies

 

Walking along a jungle path without seeing another person

 

Wild turkeys are natural to the area around Tikal

 

Howler monkeys can be very noisy

 

Back on top of Temple IV after the mist has burned off

 

View of Temple II and the Jaguar Temple looks familiar

 

Yep, this is the view from the Rebel Base in Star Wars IV

 

View of Temple IV from the Pyramid of the Lost World

 

Zoomed in for scale you can see a couple sitting on steps of Temple IV

 

The Jaguar Temple on the Main Plaza

 

Delicious chocolate cake for Audrey's birthday

On Saturday I left the Jaguar Inn at about 9:30 and got another timestamped ticket for the ride out of the park.  No speeding!  I had been in contact with Mario of Indonesia, and we had agreed to meet at a café outside Flores.  There were no signs for the café on the highway, so I was glad that I had programmed the location fairly accurately into the GPS.  Mario and Lilis were already there having, what looked like, a delicious breakfast.  Their adopted chihuahua, PeeWee, was making himself at home too.  I have met a lot of world travellers in my time, but I can't recall having met any from Indonesia.  How cool is that?  They had done a lot of travel already, including from Cape Town to Nordkapp (Cape to Cape), and so it was great sharing stories with people who had done the same trips that we had.  How many people can relate to the challenges of riding across the desert in Sudan?  We talked for almost one and a half hours.  I still had a couple of hundred kilometres to go to reach Rio Dulce, so we bid goodbye at about 12:30 and I hit the road south.  I encountered a bit of rain and put on the appropriate gear and along with the increased truck traffic it wasn't quite as pleasant a ride.  I arrived at the Nanajuana resort at about 4:00 and saw a few Harley Davidson motorcycles sporting Belize licence plates parked out front.  The desk clerk said that they sure drink a lot of beer.  The next morning, I chatted with Scotty, part of the Harley group, who was originally from Flin Flon, Manitoba but now called Belize home.  He had a BMW-riding friend in Antigua where I hoped to get the transmission oil leak fixed so he gave me his number and I contacted Eduardo, including a picture of Scotty for reference.  Eduardo said that Motorpsycho, which I had already contacted, was a good shop but if they couldn't do it to let him know.  At the town of Morales, I turned west towards Guatemala City and joined the Panamericana.  Ugh.  Lots of Diesel-smoking trucks and buses compounded with a kilometres long queue for construction had me convinced to avoid the Panamericana at all costs from now on.  When I stopped for gas at a Texaco I popped into the shop and had what was undoubtedly the unhealthiest meal of the entire trip, a cheesy hot dog, and a Coke.  Suitably fortified (?) I continued riding southwest and through Guatemala City on to Antigua.  The overwhelming first impression was that Antigua was similar to San Miguel de Allende in Mexico with its colourful buildings, cobblestone streets and lots of tourists.  Most of the hotels in the centre of town didn't have a place to park the motorbike so I ended up just on the edge of the centre at the Camino Real, still within walking distance of Motorpsycho and the lively main plaza.  After getting settled (they upgraded my room since I am apparently an Expedia Gold VIP member for having booked so many hotels) I walked to that square where I just sat and watched people.  The cathedral on the square is quite lovely and I spend some quiet time inside, reflecting on life.  Today had been an emotional day, strangely more emotional than the 25th.  I seem to have lost my resilience and relentless optimism, now things that would have been part of the adventure were just annoying.  Why was I riding in this foreign country choking on Diesel fumes?  I looked forward to going home and, this spring, returning to Europe to ride in Italy and the Alps.

Rejoining the main highway leaving Tikal and headed for Rio Dulce

 

Meeting Mario and Lilis (and PeeWee) from Indonesia as they ride around the world

 

Saying goodbye to Mario

Arrive at the hotel in Rio Dulce and see all the Harleys parked by the "No Parking" sign

 

Scotty originally from Flin Flon, Manitoba and now from Belize

 

Joining the Panamericana it gets busy with trucks and buses

 

Not nice riding

 

Queue for kilometres is also a shopping opportunity

 

Unhealthiest lunch of the entire trip

 

Riding the cobblestones of Antigua

 

I didn't expect a Tesla here! The driver is from Vancouver (Guatemala licence plate though)

 

Hotel Camino Real is nice

 

Walking around Antigua

 

Volcán de Agua looms over Antigua

 

What a magical sight

 

The main plaza in Antigua

 

Earthquakes are fairly common and ruined churches aren't necessarily rebuilt

Monday morning, I rode over to Motorpsycho and the owner said that he hadn't seen my note asking about the transmission leak.  Normally they only take appointments via WhatsApp, but he made an exception and took a bike off a lift and put my bike up on it.  We tried to get a look at the transmission seal by just pulling the rubber boot back but couldn't see anything.  Before pulling the driveshaft off they pulled back the rubber boot at the rear of the driveshaft to let the oil out.  It looked like almost a litre of transmission oil came out.  I hope that I hadn't run the transmission without oil and burned out any bearings.  Once the driveshaft was off it was necessary to remove the flange but that requires a special puller.  Before I could object, the mechanic was busy with a grinder and a welder modifying one of their pullers to fit.  Once we got the flange off it was obvious that the seal had been damaged at Moto Garage de Charlie.  The owner called Guatemala BMW who, miracle of miracles, had a new seal in stock!  The owner of Motorpsycho is a motorcycle racer and made his race bike (he was racing on Sunday) streetworthy by reinstalling the passenger footpegs and removing the number plate.  I told him that I hoped it didn't rain since that would make riding with slicks a bit tricky.  He and the mechanic then rode into Guatemala City to pick up the seal (and run a couple of other errands) while I popped back to the hotel and started writing up the Belize chapter of the website.  At 6:30 I went back to the shop, and they had already installed the new seal and were putting things back together.  They needed to use the newly fabricated puller to hold the flange while tightening the crown nut to 220 Nm.  For comparison, the lug nuts on my Tesla need to be tightened to 175 Nm, so 220 is a lot.  The bike was mostly back together by 10:00 PM.  I returned to the shop on Tuesday morning and found it parked out front, all shiny and clean.  The total came to 1193 quetzales ($200) including 293 QTZ for the seal itself from BMW.  Considering the hours worth of work that went into that seal replacement (and fabricating a special tool) I thought this was a very reasonable price.  I brought my shiny bike back to the hotel's underground garage and found out the headlight wasn't working again.  I took the tank off and played with the relay that had the loose connection to get it going again.  I walked over to the main plaza to do some more people watching and was approached by several people selling all kinds of trinkets.  Miera came over and tried to sell me some souvenirs which I declined.  But she was persistent, sitting down beside me and chatting away.  She had a great sense of humour and when she tried to sell me something for my wife, I said that my wife had passed away.  Without missing a beat she said, "for your girlfriend then!"  Eventually she wore me down and I ended up buying a really lovely shawl for my mom.
 

My bike goes up on the lift at Motorpsycho

 

Draining transmission oil out of the driveshaft

 

This seal was incorrectly installed at Moto Garage de Charlie in Mexico City

 

Applying 220 Nm to the crown nut

 

Wait, what?  It was certainly novel having currywurst in Guatemala but it wasn't very good.

 

Miera sells me a shawl

 

Colonnaded walkway adjacent to the main plaza

 

A "chicken bus" (so named because there is usually someone carrying a chicken on board)

I had received a message from the principal of Audrey's former school in Carstairs that they had held their version of the Olympics, dedicated to Audrey, and were holding the closing ceremony on Google Meet that morning.  The ceremonies started at 9:45 so I was able to attend before checking out.  Audrey's siblings and I had proposed a scholarship in Audrey's name and because of her involvement with sports and teaching we thought sponsoring the Olympics would be a perfect fit.  It was so special as they did a tribute to Audrey and, as you can imagine, quite emotional for me.  I was so glad that Audrey's siblings were able to attend via Google Meet as well.  I pulled myself back together then checked out of the Camino Real and took the long way to Lago de Atitlán, riding around Volcán de Agua and lapping around back to Antigua before heading west to Panajachel on the lake.  The downside of having installed the Central America maps on my GPS in 2016 was that any newer roads didn't show up.  Apparently, a few bypass roads had been built over the last six years and threw the GPS some curveballs that I had to pull over to sort out.  Another curveball came as I was riding on a lovely quiet road with nice pavement when suddenly the road ended, and a dirt track went off to the right.  Through a river.  On the other side of the river crossing, the pavement resumed as if nothing had happened.  I ended up at about 2,100 metres when the lake, 500 metres below, was spread out before me, surrounded by volcanoes.  Spectacular.  That evening it really cooled down, and I read a car magazine on the iPad by the fireplace in the hotel restaurant.  
 

Nice and shiny motorcycle ready to head off

 

Leaving Antigua with one last photo op

 

Brand new pavement is fantastic fun

 

A circumnavigation of Volcán de Agua

 

Woo hoo!

 

Yep, Volcán de Agua from another angle

 

Travelling through towns is always fun

 

What happened to the perfectly paved road?

 

After the river crossing, back to perfect pavement

 

First views of Lago de Atitlán are spectacular

 

At about 2,100 metres and the lake is at about 1,600 metres

 

Lovely sunset at the lake surrounded by volcanoes

My plan was to ride around Lago de Atitlán on Thursday, stopping for lunch at San Pedro, almost directly opposite the lake to my hotel in Santa Catarina.  Leaving the hotel in a clockwise direction I had a few dirt sections and an incredibly steep climb up away from the lake on a section of concrete pavement.  I rejoined the road above the lake and then turned off at San Lucas Toliman onto a smaller road, though still paved.  Going through the small towns was fun and a bit challenging with navigation, ending up a few times on steep, narrow alleys barely wider than the bike.  The road left the lake to go around Volcán San Pedro and ten or twenty kilometres before the town itself, the road turned to dirt.  Quite rough in spots but certainly do-able.  At one point I asked a police officer if this was the correct road to San Pedro and he said it was, so I continued bouncing along.  I came to a steep climb covered in Fesh Fesh (sand turned to a flour-like powder) and was bouncing from one large, hidden rock to another.  It was difficult keeping up enough momentum to climb the steep hill but not bounce uncontrollably from rock to rock.  Suddenly, a big rock stopped me in my tracks.  I dropped the bike to the downhill side and tumbled in the dust a few metres down the hill.  No pain despite rolling on the large rocks, thank goodness for good gear.  I stood up, and before running up hill to the bike to turn off the gas taps so that fuel would stop pouring out of the carburettors, I took the obligatory photo (thank you Grant Johnson).  As the bike had tipped over to the downhill side it was almost upside down, only the horizontally opposed cylinders and Jesse luggage stopping it from going completely turtle.  I popped the sidestand out and then put my back to the bike and with some serious grunting, "walked" the bike upright and resting on its sidestand.  Whew.  A look at the bike showed there wasn't much damage, just a cracked mirror.  But it was pinned between a couple of large rocks and impossible to move.  In the meantime, a local rider was at the bottom of the hill making some suggestions.  Eventually he walked up and helped me push it away from the rocks until I could get on and ride it to the top.  He then got on his 150cc bike and bounced up the hill to join me.  He said he would ride ahead, and I should follow him.  There were still a couple of tricky sections, but he knew the way around the big rocks.  At one point he went to the side of the road on what looked like a narrow cobblestone track, not more than 20 centimetres wide with big drops to either side.  It took all my focus (look where you want to go!) but I made it without another crash and around the corner was perfect pavement.  I thanked him profusely and for the first time on the trip I was glad I had taken this old, light(er) bike instead of the new R1250GSA sitting at home.  Nice pavement to San Pedro was an opportunity to catch my breath before descending a steep street to the centre of town and a coffee shop for a late lunch.  It had taken me a bit longer than anticipated.  The first thing that struck me about San Pedro was the number of "hippies" that were walking around.  Looking at Google Maps I saw that the hotel beside the coffee shop was Mr. Mullet's Party Hostel.  Okay.  I had a well-deserved burrito and mocha frappuccino while I had a look at what my return trip on the other side of the lake looked like.  Apparently, it hooked up with the Panamericana and I decided that perhaps my recent decision to avoid the Panamericana at all costs was made in haste.  When I left the café, a "hippie" asked me if I had really ridden my motorcycle to all the places (mostly African) that the stickers seemed to indicate.  I said, yes, and we struck up a conversation.  He had moved to San Pedro (originally from the Netherlands) five years ago and was now teaching music.  What a change in lifestyle!  The ride back to the hotel was uneventful, and all paved.  Whew.
 

Road along the lake goes by several towns

 

One could use boats to criss-cross the lake.  But why?

 

Lake road clings to the edge of the volcano

 

San Lucas Tolimán

 

This isn't too bad

 

If they can make it two-up on a 150cc bike...

 

Nope.  Now get over there and close those petcocks.

 

Get my breath back on a paved road

 

Well-deserved burrito in San Pedro

 

And this is the clean side!

 

Fun, paved road out of San Pedro to the Panamericana

 

Another spectacular sunset from the hotel in San Catarina

I took the paved road (!) up out of the crater lake and then the high road with its spectacular lake views south.  As I dropped from 2,200 metres down to Cocales, the temperature climbed correspondingly, soon enough it was 34 degrees in the shade.  The El Rancho restaurant looked nice, tucked under a canopy of trees.  It might have been even nicer if it was air conditioned, but it was completely open and plenty of fans kept the air moving.  I ordered the Tilapia El Rancho and a little while later the server came with a live fish in a plastic bag and asked me if that would be OK.  Sure?  Looking at the other customers it appeared that most people went to a fish tank and picked their fish out.  When my lunch arrived, I had to give full marks for presentation, I had never seen a fish prepared that way before.  And considering that I normally prefer my fish to be in "sticks" it was quite tasty.  The road skirted to the south of the volcanoes and stayed down on the plain and thus it stayed quite warm for the rest of the ride to Escuintla.  I pulled into the Hotel Pacific Palm parking lot to find the Hondas of Scott and Streoh.  We had communicated on Facebook for a number of months and had even been close to meeting up (I saw them going the other direction near Cabo San Lucas) but now we made a concerted effort to meet.  They had ridden down from Vancouver Island, B.C. and had made it all the way to Panama.  They were now heading back north so this would be the last time we could meet on the road.  We sat by the pool and chatted and then continued the conversation over dinner at a nearby restaurant (best fries of the trip).  Make sure to check out their YouTube channel: The Adventure Coop!  With any luck we'll be able to meet again at the Horizons Unlimited Travellers Meeting in Nakusp in June.  After saying goodbye to Steph and Scott on the morning of March 5, I rode 160 kilometres to the border with El Salvador.  I took the route through the mountains and the temperatures were reasonable but near the border the road started to drop in elevation and the temperature climbed.  I paused for a cold beverage in an air-conditioned convenience store to spend my last quetzales and then stopped one more time to get my paperwork sorted before hitting the potential chaos of the border.  Getting my passport stamped out of Guatemala was easy but to cancel the TVIP was a bit more involved, and I had to wait for the customs guy to return from lunch but at least I could sit in the waiting area while he was processing my paperwork.  I had specifically chosen the Valle Nuevo crossing because it was not on the Panamericana and hopefully wouldn't be too busy.  That worked out perfectly.
 

Leaving Lago de Atitlán

 

Local tourists take my photo

 

 

Another reason they are called "chicken buses": because you don't want to play chicken with them

 

Tilapia El Rancho for lunch looks... interesting

 

Normally I prefer my fish in fishstick format

 

Scott and Steph's Hondas in Escuintla

 

Scott braves a haircut

 

It was great meeting up with Scott and Steph and swapping stories

 

Goodbye Guatemala at a really quiet border crossing

Guatemala had been a delight, from the ruins of Tikal to the town of Antigua and the spectacular Lago de Atitlán but also for the wonderful people I met; Rick and Melanie (and their three kids) from Ottawa, Mario and Lilis from Indonesia (and PeeWee from Mexico), Scotty from Belize (nee Flin Flon) and of course Scott and Steph from B.C.
 

Tracks through Guatemala

 

Chapter 7: El Salvador and Honduras

On Saturday, March 5, I crossed the bridge from Guatemala to El Salvador.  I was quite glad that I had chosen this border crossing, away from the Panamericana. It was so quiet that I even got a border guard to take my photo while standing in the middle of the road on the bridge.  It was a bit of a process getting the paperwork for the motorbike completed but everyone was friendly and helpful.  Once everything was done, I rode towards Concepción de Ataco, going through Ahuachapan where the GPS decided that I needed to take a shortcut on a rough, gravel track, avoiding the Ruta de Flores that I had hoped to ride.  I made it to the Fluer de Lis without incident and after taking a nice shower I walked a few blocks to the lively main square.  I was in time to see a wedding exiting the church and then sat at a café with a frappuccino and a Nutella/strawberry crepe watching the people on the square and some rather crazy tourist conveyances.  After watching a singer on the bandstand, I headed to La Raclette restaurant on the square, still doing some people watching.  It was quite nice using American dollars in El Salvador so that no fancy conversions were needed and paying the bill didn't involve a lot of mental arithmetic.  The square was still hopping with activity (and the occasional fireworks) so I hung around until about 10:00 rather than going back to the hotel.

Nice quiet border crossing

GPS sends me on a short cut

Arrived at the Fluer de Lis in Ataco

Just in time for a wedding

Interesting tourist bus (safety first, right?)

Lots of fun to be had in this touristy little town

 

 

On Sunday morning I took the actual Garden Route that I had skipped the previous day, and it was a pleasant road, with nice curves and good pavement.  After I joined the four-lane divided highway leading to San Salvador I was passed by half a dozen BMW R1250GS riders who waved and gave me a big thumbs up before disappearing up the road.  When I got to San Salvador it was still too early to check in at the Intercontinental (I know, I know) so I stopped at an air-conditioned Starbucks for lunch.  Riding towards the hotel I saw a couple of advertisements for BMW motorcycles, I think this was the biggest BMW motorbike presence since Mexico.  Little did I know I would need that assistance in a couple of days.  I wanted to go to the Museo Nacional de Antropología Dr. David J. Guzmán but since it was closed on Mondays, I needed to visit it after checking in at the hotel.  I freshened up and had a taxi take me the 5 kilometres to the museum with the thought that I would walk back to the hotel when I was finished at the museum.  The taxi ride showed that San Salvador didn't seem like an especially pedestrian friendly city and of course it was still good and hot, so I asked the driver to pick me up at 5:30 because I thought the museum closed at 6:00.  The anthropology museum was fairly small, but it had some good exhibits.  For the exhibits in Spanish (there were some in English) I used Google Translate and was able to learn a little of the history of El Salvador and Central America.  There was even a dishware display that I am sure Audrey would have been proud of me for checking out.  It turned out that the museum closed at 5:00 so after getting kicked out of the museum I waited outside for my taxi.  When I got back to the hotel, I watched the MotoGP qualifying over dinner (an OK lasagna followed by a mediocre tiramisu) and then the race itself back in the room.  So, despite the anthropology museum, I guess this wasn't an especially cultural day what with Starbucks, staying at the Intercontinental and watching MotoGP.  But on the plus side I was riding my motorbike in El Salvador!

Lovely Ruta de Flores

Anthropological Museum in San Salvador






Yay, a dishware display!

Mayan artefacts

A Mayan hut in the museum

Migration pattern of peoples coming to the Americas

Since I saw the anthropology museum on Sunday, I now had Monday to wash my motorcycle clothes.  They were still extremely dusty from my tumble at Lago de Atitlán and definitely needed a wash.  I found a laundromat a little less than a kilometre away and walked over after breakfast.  The lady running the laundromat was very helpful and soon enough my gear was sparkly clean.  Around lunchtime I walked a couple of kilometres to get to the centre of San Salvador.  I like going to the capital city of a country, not just for the museums that are usually there, but also to check out the government buildings, the national theatre and art galleries and so on.  This is usually where a country puts on its best face.  A few blocks out from the centre, the streets became crowded with market stalls selling everything from cell phone protectors to lingerie.  I resisted the temptation of the air-conditioned Burger King and continued to the main square where the Palacio Nacional de El Salvador was located kitty-corner to the Catedral Metropolitana de San Salvador El Salvador.  As I was wandering the plaza, an army truck pulled up in front of the cathedral and disgorged a platoon of army personnel.  Thinking that maybe they knew something I did not, I decided to keep moving.  The nearby Plaza Libertad is known for the starting point of protests, but I didn't see any large gatherings of people, just those sitting and chatting in the shade on benches in the park.  Later I did see soldiers walking in pairs throughout the downtown so perhaps they were just there on a regular patrol.  Plaza Libertad is also home to the Iglesia El Rosario, a rather "interesting" looking church in a brutalist modern sort of way.  I understand that the stained glass is quite spectacular from the inside but, alas, the church was behind a locked gate.  I really didn't want to go to Burger King for lunch, despite the alure of the AC, so I was delighted to see closed doors at Le Café.  Sure enough, when I pushed them open, I was greeted with a rush of cool air.  Suitably refreshed and fed after the café I walked back to the hotel and worked on the website.  

Wash those clothes!

 

Walking to the centre of San Salvador with lots of market stalls

 


 

Palacio Nacional

 

 

The Metropolitan Cathedral of San Salvador

Um, why is there an army truck unloading soldiers?

 

Iglesia el Rosario is said to have beautiful stained glass, best enjoyed from inside

 

Kilometre Zero, all roads in El Salvador lead here

 

On Tuesday morning, before checking out, I popped over to the laundromat again to quickly wash all my regular clothing since I had booked a hotel down by the Pacific Ocean that was only 190 kilometres away.  I packed up and was ready to go at about 11:00 when I checked my motorcycle jacket for my motorbike keys.  They weren't there!  I checked all the pockets and nothing.  Unpacked everything and searched the room thoroughly.  Nothing.  OK, I thought, let's search everything again before going to the laundromat where they had probably fallen out of a pocket.  On the way out I asked the front desk if the keys had turned up anywhere and that I may need a late checkout after going to the laundromat.  At the laundromat there were no keys to be found and back at the hotel there was nothing in the lost and found.  I asked to stay another night and then called the resort at Playa Las Tunas to transfer my stay to another night.  I walked across the street to the mall and drowned my sorrows in an extra-large Wendy's Frostie.  I knew there was a BMW motorcycle dealer in town, based on the bikes I had seen riding in El Salvador and on the advertising signs, so I looked them up on Google.  They were only three kilometres away and so I hoofed over there before they closed at 6:00.  Unfortunately, they only sold new vehicles at that store.  The service centre was right behind my hotel but would be closed by the time I walked back there.  On Wednesday morning I went back to the laundromat and did a thorough search of the premises, beside the washing machines and under the tables but still no luck so I went to the BMW service centre.  Juan Carlos, a mechanic, took my VIN and then disappeared for a while.  When he came back, he said that the boss would like to see me.  That sounded ominous but Pilander was super friendly and wanted to help in any way he could.  He arranged for a locksmith to come to my bike in the hotel's parking garage that afternoon.  At 2:15 Juan Carlos and another BMW technician showed up with the locksmith and his assistant.  The locksmith went to work and took about an hour to make an ignition key and another half hour to make a key for the Jesse saddlebags.  The key fob pouch I lost also had keys for the U-lock, gas cap, gas tank compartment and the Jesse top case (at home) but I thought these two were all I needed to make it to Panama and then home.  The BMW technicians stayed with me the whole time and I walked back to the service centre with them after paying the locksmith US$70.  There was no charge by BMW which I thought was awfully nice, but I did buy a couple of key chains and a T-shirt.  Technically, I could get on the road on Thursday, but I decided to stay one more day in San Salvador to relax a little.  When the locksmith had turned the bike on and off, I noticed that the headlight wasn't working so in the morning I had a look at the headlight relay that had resulted in the same problem before and got it working.  I also checked the oil levels (normally I don't check the transmission oil but now it might be a good idea) and had a look at various fittings.  I was surprised (why?) to find that the steering head nut was loose again.  I had that repaired (and fastened with Loctite) by DCMW in San Diego so wasn't expecting it to be loose.  Fortunately, I still had the large adjustable wrench from Home Depot in California with me so I could tighten it up, but I suppose it's something I'll need to keep an eye on as well as the transmission oil.  In the afternoon I finished and then uploaded the Guatemala chapter of the website.
 

Showing off my nice clean suit before departure (not!)

 

After losing my keys I drown my sorrows in a Frostie

 

Locksmith goes to work on the ignition key

 

BMW technicians

 

New keys, key fobs and a T-shirt

 

On Friday I loaded up the bike and turned on the gas taps to depart when I noticed gasoline pouring on the ground!  I had forgotten to attach the right-side fuel line to the petcock after removing the tank to fix the headlight relay, so it was an easy fix for a fairly dramatic event.  When I got going, I noticed the cracked right-side mirror was pointing down more than before, so I reached over to adjust it.  Which is when it came loose in my hand.  There I was riding in city traffic, trying to navigate my way out of the city while holding a mirror in my hand.  That didn't seem like a good idea, so I pulled over and stuffed the mirror in the saddlebag.  It was a warm ride to Playas Negras, but the traffic wasn't as bad as I had expected, so overall it was quite pleasant.  I arrived at 2:40 but my room wasn't ready until 3:15 so I sat in the lobby for half an hour, just itching to get out of my motorcycle pants and boots.  When I did, I promptly went out to the beach, but it was all volcanic rock, so no walk on the beach.  Still, it was nice to be on the ocean again.  And the next morning, having breakfast overlooking the rocky shore and looking out to sea was fantastic.  I got an early start and after about an hour of riding I arrived at the border with Honduras at 9:15, passing by several kilometres of lined up trucks since I was now on the Panamericana Highway.  Leaving El Salvador was fairly straightforward and took about an hour.  

Riding out of San Salvador


Whoa, a triple solid line, they really don't want you to pass.


Volcano in the clouds


Quite a bit of garbage along the roads of El Salvador (but nothing like Honduras)

Arriving at the hotel at Playa Las Tunas, note missing mirror

Volcanic rock means no beach walk

Lovely restaurant

Nice breakfast before the one hour ride to the border



Line of trucks is several kilometres long, so need to bypass them

Apparently I am supposed to ride on the opposite shoulder, rather than splitting the lanes

The bridge to Honduras

I crossed the bridge to enter Honduras (all the trucks were routed another way, so this was all regular traffic) where there was a line of cars parked on the side.  I rode to the front of the line and was motioned to stop by an official.  He looked at my vaccination certificate and told me to park the bike and go to the back of the line of people.  There were about 50 people ahead of me and the line moved very, very slowly.  I went back to the bike and grabbed an umbrella for shade and a bottle of water.  1.5 hours.  That's how long I stood in the sweltering heat waiting for the COVID check.  To enter Honduras, you needed either a negative COVID test or proof of vaccination.  When I timed how long people were taking inside the little yellow shack it was about two minutes.  So my estimate of 50 people at two minutes each was pretty close to the 1.5 hours that I stood there.  Once inside the air-conditioned shack the official checked my vaccination papers and filled in a small slip of paper.  Now I could go to the actual border control of immigration and customs.  That took place in a large, air-conditioned building and, surprisingly considering the number of people in line at the COVID check, there was no-one there.  An official who had taken me to the building said to give the bike papers to customs first since that takes a while and meanwhile get the passport stamped.  He was right, the passport took a few minutes and then getting the Temporary Import Permit took about half an hour.  While I was getting the TIP, the hall filled up with people so perhaps I had been lucky when I got there, when the place had been empty.  I got on the bike and rode about a kilometre for the final check where I handed in the slips of paper to confirm I had done all the correct processes.  As soon as I was waved through, I pulled over to put away my paperwork and put on the helmet and gloves.  When I opened my saddlebag to put the papers in, I noticed that the folder with all my important documents wasn't there.  Oi.  I rode back to the immigration building, fending off the aggressive helpers, and found my folder sitting beside the TIP wicket window, exactly where I had left it.  Whew.  I waved at the final checkpoint personnel and entered Honduras at 12:30.  I still had about 140 kilometres to go to Tegucigalpa, so I had a quick break for a cold drink in a town called Pespire.  It was 35 degrees so I could be forgiven that I thought the place was called Perspire.  In Tegucigalpa I went straight to a laboratory that was open on Saturday afternoon (most are closed) to get a PCR COVID test since I needed that to enter Nicaragua.  They said I would have the results by 7:00 PM the next day and then I rode five kilometres further to the Hotel Plaza Juan Carlos.  I had heard some reports that Tegucigalpa wasn't an especially safe city, so I made sure I was in a secure hotel in a good neighbourhood but still within walking distance to the city centre.  I was pretty knackered when I got to the hotel, what, with standing for 1.5 hours for the COVID check, riding in 35 degree heat and then doing a PCR test so I just collapsed in the air-conditioned room.  

I pulled up to the front of the line and was told to park the bike

1.5 hours in 34 degree heat waiting for the COVID check

Umbrella provides much needed shade

After this photo I discovered I had lost my folder of important documents

Riding in Honduras

Stopped for a break and checked the temperature, I thought it said the town name was Perspire


Lots of garbage along the road in Honduras

It must be burning season

The lab in Tegucigalpa for the PCR test

Nice view of Tegucigalpa from the Hotel Plaza Juan Carlos

Cristo del Picacho statue is lit up at night

Sunday, I walked a couple of kilometres to the centre and noticed that most of the shops were closed and the streets were very quiet.  Fortunately, the main square was a bit livelier with lots of people and a fellow on a (figurative) soapbox shouting into a microphone.  I was sitting on the edge of a statue checking the map on my phone when the fellow beside me suggested I put the phone in my pocket, rather than having it on display.  That made good sense from a security perspective, especially coming from a local.  The cathedral was having a Sunday service, so I saved that for later and went to check out the Museo Para La Identidad Nacional, dedicated to the history of Honduras.  The door was partially open, so I went to step inside when a security guard told me it was closed.  I asked if it would be open on Monday and he said that it wasn't, it was just closed.  That was too bad, I was looking forward to this museum since my time in Honduras was going to be rather limited.  Unfortunately, the Galeria Nacional de Arte across the street also seemed to be closed.  When I got back to Parque Central Tegucigalpa, I checked out the cathedral but now there was a special event going on and I was told it would be open at 1:30. Not to be deterred I looked up a coffee shop, but both the Aroma Café and the Espresso Americano were also closed.  Perhaps the takeaway here is not to visit Tegucigalpa on a Sunday.  You have to admit I had tried really hard but there was just no getting around it.  I had to go to Burger King for lunch.  At least it was right on the square so I could see when people were going into the cathedral.  Finally, I could see that it was OK to enter the Catedral de San Miguel Arcángel and walked across the square.  It looked like there was still something going on, so I kept my visit short but the golden altarpiece from the 18th Century was impressive.  Back at the hotel a dip in the ice-cold pool was refreshing and I received my PCR test results (negative) from the lab so had the front desk print them out for me.  

Good morning Tegucigalpa!

Good morning Cristo del Picacho!

Quiet streets on a Sunday morning

The door is halfway open but the museum is closed

Sign says to use the trash bins

I think the female mannequins are... unrealistic?

Catedral de San Miguel Arcángel



Spectacular alter piece

Congreso Nacional de la Republica de Honduras

On Monday morning I left the Hotel Plaza Juan Carlos at 9:30 and rode about two hours to get to the border with Nicaragua.  I parked the bike in front of the Aduana office and approached them.  They said I had to get my passport stamped first at immigration, on the other end of the same building.  There was a huge lineup there.  Oh no.  Then I realized that the line wasn't for immigration, it was for the COVID check to enter Honduras.  The same thing I had stood in line for 1.5 hours just a couple of days ago.  Whew.  I cut across the line and went straight to the window and in ten minutes had the exit stamp in my passport.  The COVID line hadn't moved.  Well at least it wasn't 35 degrees here since we were at an altitude of 1,000 metres.  Back at customs it took them a little while to get it all sorted out though I am not certain what the confusion was about.  In any case, I was now free to ride a short distance to the barrier that signified the border with Nicaragua.  

Wow, that's an old Toyota Corolla being used by the driving school

Hopefully those bags are light

Too bad about all the garbage, that will always be the smell of Honduras for me

Another long line of trucks, I must be at the border

My time in Honduras had been very short and the day I spent in Tegucigalpa was a day when most shops were closed so I can't say too much about the country.  I wish that I could have gone to Copán for the Mayan ruins and to explore the country further but the logistics of doing that and visiting El Salvador were just not in my favour.  I also started to realize that with a deadline approaching (I needed to be back in Canada by April 6) I would probably also end up giving short shrift to the three remaining countries of Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama.  Once I have ridden my own motorcycle in a new country I feel it is OK to return to rent a bike.  That's probably something I need to do in order to fully explore these remaining countries.
 

GPS tracks through El Salvador and Honduras  

 


 

Chapter 8: Nicaragua

On Pi Day (March 14) I crossed the bridge from Honduras to Nicaragua and pulled up at the boom gate.  There were a cluster of shipping container offices arranged haphazardly so I asked the officer who had just closed the boom where I should start.  First up was the office to check the COVID test I had done in Tegucigalpa.  The person couldn't scan the QR code on the printout, but she was able to scan the code from the email once I zoomed in.  So that was quick and easy (especially compared to the 1.5 hours to enter Honduras) and on to immigration which took quite a while.  To enter Nicaragua, it was suggested to fill in an online form seven days in advance of the border entry.  I had done that only four days in advance, but I had received an email saying that I was authorized to enter.  According to the Nicaragua website this should have sped up the process to enter.  I had printed out the application form and went to retrieve it from the bike, but the immigration officer indicated that the email authorization was good enough.  She took my phone and disappeared for a few minutes.  When she gave my phone back, she said that I had to wait.  While waiting, I talked to some American businessmen and a Japanese woman who was backpacking across Central America so the time passed quickly.  After about 45 minutes my passport was stamped so I could go to the police, fill in a form and have them inspect the motorcycle.  Then I had to go to customs to get the temporary import permit for the motorcycle.  Finally, I could leave the processing area and go to the exit.  Here I paid a U.S. $1 community tax and bought the mandatory motorbike insurance for U.S. $12.  Wow, the roads in Nicaragua are fantastic!  Good pavement, nice curves and not as much garbage as Honduras.  You could almost call it clean.  There wasn't much traffic after the border but as I got closer to Estelí and the Panamericana there was more traffic.  Though the drivers seemed pretty relaxed, driving comparatively slowly.  I got stopped at a police checkpoint just after I had taken a break and put my earplugs in.  Of course, I had to take out the earplugs to understand what they were saying and then I had to dig in my locked saddlebag for the bike registration since I had just stuffed it there after the border crossing.  I had booked a basic business hotel in Estelí and the next morning I met a Canadian businessman who owned a cigar store near Toronto and was in Nicaragua on business.  He commented that he was pretty impressed with my motorcycle parked outside and my trip.  Clarke Workman, a friend from the Rocky Bow BMW Riders club, had suggested that I visit the Selva Negra Ecolodge, if not to stay, at least for lunch.  It wasn't too far out of the way to my destination of León, so I headed southeast towards Matagalpa on lovely back roads.  I found it interesting that the road builders used paving stones rather than asphalt or concrete, this resulted in a rougher road but had the advantage that it didn't need large, sophisticated paving equipment.  The road started to climb out of Jinotega and as I climbed, the temperature dropped.  It was such fun riding in reasonable temperatures on curvy roads.  The turnoff to Selva Negra was denoted by an old tank and then I rode a couple of kilometres on an easy gravel road to get to the lodge.  The restaurant was right on a pond in the cloud forest.  I had passed through a few coffee plantations on the way so when I ordered the triple chocolate cake (!) for dessert I didn't have my usual cup of tea (Earl Grey, hot) but rather a cup of coffee.  I am not a coffee drinker, but this was really delicious and smooth.  I could get used to this.  When I checked the temperature, it was 22 degrees and it was 34 in León so despite a few showers (it is a cloud forest after all), I made sure to enjoy these temperatures while I could.  As I left Selva Negra and the highlands I suddenly felt like I was riding into an oven, into a wall of hot air.  I've noticed that my impressions of a place are inversely proportional to the temperature (spoken like an engineer), that is, the hotter it gets the less likely I am enjoying myself.  But on balance of course, I wouldn't be riding my motorbike at home in the snow and cold and the heat was bearable.  In León I pulled up to La Perla 1858 and when I got to my room, I cranked up the air conditioning.  After I had recovered, it was about an hour before sunset and so a perfect time to take a walk around León.  There were lots of lovely churches and an interesting pedestrian street commemorating revolutionary heroes.  Nicaragua has an interesting and complicated modern history, from the Sandinista revolution of the 1960s and 70s to the American-backed Contra war of the 1980s.
 

Buying the mandatory motorcycle insurance

 
Ready to ride into Nicaragua

 
Roads are great!

 


Leaving Estelí paving stones are used for the road, oh yeah, watch out for wild horses!

 
Narrow, one-lane bridges on the smaller roads

 
Passing through Jinotega

 
No really, are the roads this wonderful?!?

 
Views open up with the climb

 
Gratuitous motorcycle photo

 
The turn off to Selva Negra

 
Nice gravel road to the ecolodge

 
Passing by coffee plantations

 


Lunch of tomato soup, chocolate cake and a coffee (not tea!)

 
Mmmm, triple chocolate cake complemented by delicious coffee

 
22 degrees up in the cloud forest, enjoy it while you can

 
Dropping down it starts to warm up

 
Preparing the coffee beans for shipment

 
I don't know much (anything) about coffee production but this looks like drying the beans

 
That explains why the roads are in good condition, a maintenance budget

 
I love these Land Cruiser pickup trucks, how can I bring one back?

 
Arriving at Hotel La Perla 1858 in León where it is 35 degrees

 
A sunset walk around León

 
Pick up basketball and street murals

 
A pedestrian street dedicated to revolutionary heroes

 


Cathedral-Basilica of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary on Central Park

 
Iglesia El Calvario

 
Sunset from Iglesia El Calvario

 
Central Park and the lions of León

 
A Tesla Model S on the merry-go-round!

 
OK, this was a bit creepy

On Wednesday, March 16, I left León and headed for Managua, the capital of Nicaragua.  It was already above 30 degrees when I left La Perla 1858 at 10:30 so the riding was pretty warm.  It was only 92 kilometres, so I took a little bit of a side trip, following the shore of Lake Managua around a volcano.  The side trip turned out to be gravel and the road started out fairly wide but became smaller as I went further, sometimes becoming just a couple of tracks with potholes the size of an SUV.  It was a bit rough but not technically difficult.  The dry ranching country I passed through was interesting in any case and the few people I saw seemed surprised to see me.  When I reached the halfway point around the volcano, I rather expected the road to become more used and larger again.  But no, that didn't happen, if anything the road got smaller and then there were a couple of gates, open fortunately.  I was starting to worry that this might dead end and I would have to retrace my tracks but just then I passed what looked like an army barracks and the road improved and there were more and more people.  Soon I passed through Bosques de Xiloa and rejoined the highway into Managua.  I arrived at the Crowne Plaza before my room was ready so had lunch in the hotel restaurant and then worked on the website.  The Crowne Plaza used to be the Intercontinental and was famed for hosting Americans such as members of the CIA.  Also, Howard Hughes rented out the entire 7th floor for himself and the 8th and half of the 6th floors for his staff for a period of ten months while he was working on a transcontinental oil pipeline.  Now it was home to a dusty motorcycle traveller for a couple of nights.  On Thursday I spent some time with a piece of paper and a pen (sometimes that's still the best) to plan out the rest of the trip.  I had received confirmation that I could drop the bike off for shipment on April 2 and so I booked my own flight on April 4 and then worked backwards from there with the things I still wanted to see and do before leaving Central America.  For me, the goal of this trip was to get to Yaviza, the town at the end of the road, just before the Darien Gap and as close as I could reasonably get to Colombia, where Audrey and I had started our South America trip.  Now that I had a schedule for the next couple of weeks (with a few days flexibility since something always comes up) I booked a lodge on Río San Juan, my next stop after Managua and on the border with Costa Rica.  Costa Rica requires a pre-entry form to be filled in online and one of the questions was what address I would have in Costa Rica.  So, I booked my first night in Costa Rica as well, planning to stay at the Arenal Lodge.  It looked spectacular with an amazing view of the Arenal Volcano.  So those two nights should be amazing!  But first I needed to have a look around Managua, so I walked down to the Malecón de Managua on the lake where there was a small park with a playground and an eclectic display ranging from a parked Boeing to a miniature land.  Up from the Malecón was the main plaza bordered by the Catedral de Santiago Apóstol and Palacio National.  The old cathedral had been badly damaged in the terrible earthquake of 1972 and never rebuilt so only its shell remained.  The Palacio National had a museum on the first floor that I wanted to check out.  It was only US$5 (they didn't take Nicaraguan Córdoba) and someone took me from room to room.  I am not sure if she was supposed to be a guide but because she didn't speak English and I didn't speak Spanish all she did was take me from one room to the next.  She would wait outside the room and then take me to the next one.  This had the unwanted side effect that I felt like I didn't want to spend too much time in each room while she was standing outside, using Google Translate to read the displays and at the same time I didn't want to skip through uninteresting rooms because she might be offended if I skipped through her favourite room.  Towards the end I walked through an art gallery and near the exit was a woman explaining an exhibit to someone in English.  Perhaps she was the English guide and I had just missed out?  So, I didn't learn as much as I had hoped but it was still interesting.  I had lunch at an open-air restaurant next to the museum and then slowly worked my way back to the Crowne Plaza.  Adjacent to the hotel was a Chinese restaurant where I had dinner after working on the website for the remainder of the afternoon.  They had no meals for a single person, so I ordered a plate of chow mein with shrimp.  Oh my goodness, I think this plate alone could have fed a family of four.  Though it was delicious, I didn't finish it.  Back at the hotel I watched an interesting Netflix documentary, Downfall: The Case Against Boeing.  As a leader in an organization, I already knew how important corporate culture was, but I was still taken aback by the consequences of the culture shift after the merger with McDonnel Douglas and how that led to the Boeing 737 Max 8 crashes in Indonesia and Ethiopia.  But you're not reading this for my movie reviews are you?

 

Lake Managua (Lago Xolotlán)

 
A buzzard flies up as I ride by

 
Volcanoes around Lake Managua

 
Time for a hydration break

 
The road deteriorates

 
At least the gates are open

 
Love the "trees" of Managua as I ride into town

 
Arrive at the Crowne Plaza

 
Going for a walk in Managua

 
Lovely park

 
This is a miniature Managua in the park

 
Catedral de Santiago Apóstol is nothing but a shell after the 1972 earthquake

 
Palacio Nacional

 




This wooly mammoth would have cooked today (the person in photo did anyway)

 
Whoa, chocolate pottery?!?

 


Found on Ometepe, an island in Lake Nicaragua

 


Pottery becomes more sophisticated with time

 
The inspiration for Rodin's "The Thinker"?

 
Danza de los Voladores (Dance of the Flyers) originated in Mexico and spread throughout Mesoamerica

 
Lovely art gallery in the museum

 


Good night Managua

 

On Friday I headed to Río San Juan and the Sábalos Lodge.  I didn't get away as early as I had hoped since I had some trouble publishing the website but still, 10:00 wasn't too late.  When I checked Google Maps it showed that the last 28 kilometres of today's ride would take 1 hour and 20 minutes.  That couldn't be right, could it?  I left the Crowne Plaza and worked my way out of the city in fairly heavy traffic and when I turned north there was a lot of truck traffic too.  When I saw the sign for Estelí (my first night in Nicaragua) I knew I was on the Panamericana so that explained the trucks.  After stopping for gas, I turned off the Panamericana onto Highway 7 where the trucks disappeared and then after Juigalpa even the number of other cars dropped off and the riding was nice and easy.  I found I was able to do 100 kph fairly comfortably on the nice road, perhaps the first time since Mexico where that was the case.  I stopped at the side of the road for a drink of water and had a granola bar (I purchased a pack  in Baja last year!) for lunch.  When I turned off for the final 28 kilometres to the Sábalos Lodge the road was still paved but full of potholes so not too bad.  Then it turned to a really rough, rocky dirt road with the occasional motorbike-swallowing muddy pothole.  My maximum speed was about 30 kph.  An hour of bone shaking riding had me at a ferry to cross the Río Sábalos, a tributary to the Río San Juan.  A large steel ferry was coming to meet me when a fellow offered a tiny, wooden skiff to take me over.  That might work for the small 150cc bikes popular in Nicaragua, but I wasn't too sure of it taking a 1,000cc BMW and it's "larger than the average Nicaraguan" rider so I opted to wait for the ferry.  I got on the ferry and turned the bike around since it was loading from only one side.  A small pickup backed on and we were away.  I chatted with the ferry operator, and he tried to tell me the lodge was closed.  Hopefully my Spanish was just bad, and I misunderstood him.  Riding off the ferry, about a kilometre down the road to where I thought the Sábalos Lodge should be, I didn't see any signs.  The map showed the lodge to be right on the river but there was no access road down to the river that I could see.  I phoned the hotel and an English-speaking person picked up almost right away.  I explained where I was and asked how to get to the hotel.  He said that the hotel had been closed since the start of the pandemic but both Booking, and Expedia were still accepting reservations for some reason.  Well, that put me into a bit of a pickle, at the end of a long, rough dirt road with no place to stay.  He gave me the phone number for another hotel in Sábalos (also on the river so it was necessary to take a boat or walk 200 metres) but when I called them, I got a message machine.  I wasn't looking forward to doing that rocky, dirt road again but decided that my best option was to return to the main highway and go to the town of San Carlos, on Lake Nicaragua.  Before dark.  I rode back to the ferry and waited for them to bring a bus across.  I tried to board but was told to wait.  While waiting I chatted with the operator, letting him know he was right about the lodge being closed, and eventually asked what we were waiting for.  He said that when a car came then I would be able to ride for free.  So, I said, "how much if we go now?"  150 Córdoba or about $5.  Let's go!  I programmed the GPS for San Carlos and noticed that I should arrive just before dark.  I pounded down the road as quickly as I dared without breaking the bike.  But the GPS had a rather optimistic speed for the dirt road, and I arrived at the pavement as darkness fell.  The last half hour of the ride was in the dark, something that I usually try to avoid at all costs but at least it was paved.  I made it to San Carlos and rode around town looking for a hotel and found the Hotel Grand Lago.  Even better, they had a room, and I could park my motorbike in the hallway in front of my room.  I walked into town for dinner at El Kaoma (recommended by the hotel proprietor) and contacted Expedia.  At first, I was texting with an agent via the app but eventually he said that he couldn't do anymore and asked for my phone number.  Someone from Reservations would call me back.  In the meantime, the nightclub downstairs fired up the disco so that it made it difficult to hear myself think, let alone a phone call.  Of course, that's when the call came through.  It took a little explaining but eventually she said that she would issue me a refund.  While I was still on the phone with the agent, I heard a "bing" signifying the arrival of an email.  Sure enough, it was the refund.  That was fast.  And for my troubles she also issued a $25 coupon good towards my next Expedia booking.  Since the Grand Hotel Lago was 900 Córdoba (about $30) I guess I had a pretty cheap night.
 

The bike looks ready to depart the Crowne Plaza

 
Can that be right?  1 hr 21 min for 28 kilometres?

 
After leaving the Panamericana there is less traffic

 
Well, there is some traffic

 
Beautiful ride

 
Time to eat some of the emergency rations before going home (nuts from Belize)

 
A granola bar from Baja California Sur, Mexico (last November)

 
When was the last time I could easily ride at 100 kph?

 
OK, that didn't last long.  30 kph is about maxed out now.

 
Ferry across Río Sábalos, a tributary to the Río San Juan

 
One end loading only so turn the bike around

 
Río Sábalos

 
After finding the hotel closed, I return to the ferry and wait for them to bring a bus acrosss

 
Waiting for the ferry

 
Going back across, at least the operator didn't say, "I told you so."

 
Riding into the setting sun

 
Arrived at the Hotel Grand Lago in San Carlos in the dark

 
Safe motorcycle parking (glad I had that oil leak fixed)

 

As there was no breakfast at the hotel, I just had a granola bar from the saddlebag (I might as well finish these "emergency rations" before flying home) and got going pretty early, arriving at the border at 9:10 AM.  Since the day before had been a bit of a gong show I hadn't gone through all my paperwork in preparation for the border.  So, when a guard asked to see my tourist tax receipt I started going through the paperwork in my small pouch.  But no luck.  Perhaps I had lost it, or I had given it away at a hotel or at the border entry?  I tried explaining to the guard that I didn't have it and that I had paid it at Los Manos where I entered Nicaragua.  She said, "Retorno".  I said, "Wait, what?"  Retorno to where?!?  Los Manos?  Fortunately, just then a truck was leaving the compound, so she had to go over and check his paperwork.  While she was doing that, I went to the bike and opened the folder with all my important documents.  There it was!  I went back to the border guard and triumphantly held up the tax receipt.  Now I was able to enter the border processing centre to get my passport stamped out of Nicaragua and cancel the Temporary Import Permit.  I lined up behind a couple of people and within 20 minutes had my passport stamped and the agent pointed me over to Aduana in the same building.  As always, this was a bit more complicated and after I had filled in a form and the customs agent went through the paperwork, she wanted to inspect the motorcycle.  We went outside and I pointed to the bike, parked in front of Migracion, three parking spaces over.  She said to bring it over to the parking stall in front of Aduana.  20 metres.  Really?  I walked over to the bike and since I was still carrying all the paperwork, unlocked and opened the saddlebag and put that away before getting my helmet on (it's easiest to carry on my head).  By this time, she must have figured she could walk 20 metres and had come over to do the inspection, having a look inside the saddlebags and then went back to her office to complete the paperwork.  Total time was about an hour.  This seemed like quite a bit of time just to get out of the country but as I was to find out, it wasn't even the half of it for getting into Costa Rica.
 

Morning in San Carlos, time for a little walk along the shore of Lake Nicaragua

 
Lake Nicaragua (Lago Cocibolca)

 
The fishermen clean their catch

 
Leaving the Hotel Grand Lago on the way to Costa Rica

 
Goodbye Nicaragua

 
Map of tracks through Nicaragua  

 

Chapter 9: Costa Rica

Well, Costa Rica and I didn't get off on the right foot on the first day.  But I am getting ahead of myself.  After the hour to get out of Nicaragua, at about 10:00 AM on March 19, I rode over to the Costa Rican side of the border where a guard told me where to park.  I walked into the immigration area and in a few minutes, I had the entry stamp in my passport.  While looking for the Aduana to do the Temporary Import Permit for the motorbike I ended up at the insurance window, so I purchased the mandatory motorcycle insurance.  I found the TIP window, but it was closed and there was no one in the office.  A man sitting in one of the two chairs near the window said that the Internet was down, and they couldn't process the TIP without it.  After a couple of hours of waiting, the customs officer asked the first guy to follow her to another office.  He came back a little while later but didn't seem any further ahead.  At 1:30 (3.5 hours after I arrived) the customs officer told the first guy to help me get the appropriate photocopies made.  That done we waited a little longer and, in the meantime, a Spanish motorcyclist heading to Nicaragua arrived, needing to get his TIP cancelled.  A little while later the customs officer took all three of us over to the other shack (I hesitate to call it a building) where the first guy went inside with the officer while the Spanish rider and myself stood outside by the window.  The Internet was working because the first guy was using his cell phone as a Wi-Fi hotspot.  The Spanish rider's paperwork was finished first and then the first guy, but he hung around while she did my TIP using his cell phone.  With that completed he was on his way and the customs officer told me to bring my bike over for the inspection.  It was the most thorough inspection I have ever had done on the bike.  Usually, it's simply a matter of checking the VIN on the bike and comparing that to the registration but she investigated each saddlebag (and the bags inside the saddlebags), the duffle bag on the back and even under the seat to open the tool roll.  Finally, I was free to enter Costa Rica at 3:10 PM.  Six hours after I had arrived at the border.  I had had my last granola bar at the hotel as they didn't have breakfast so by this time, I was getting a bit peckish.  I still had a couple of hours of riding ahead of me, and I didn't want to waste daylight eating at a restaurant, so I stopped at a convenience store where I chugged a litre of liquid yoghurt.  After riding about 80 kilometres, I encountered a slow-moving queue of cars.  In some countries the cars move over so that motorbikes can filter through but that didn't seem to be the case in Costa Rica, so it was a bit tricky making my way forward.  (My bike has an air-cooled engine so it needs to keep moving or it will overheat).  After about five kilometres, I got to a T-intersection where the queue continued straight ahead (towards San José) and police were controlling traffic.  I turned right towards La Fortuna and had free flow traffic.  For about three kilometres.  Then I came to another queue that was moving even slower and more sporadically and the road was even narrower, not even having a white line for a shoulder.  The traffic going the opposing direction was queued up for the T-intersection, so it was almost impossible to filter through on the centre line with the big bike.  All the while I was watching the GPS putting the arrival time later and later, eventually coinciding with sunset.  How frustrating, I was going to be riding in the dark.  Again.  I must admit that the frustration boiled over and eventually I just said, "F… it" and started riding down the middle, bulling my way through, not caring if I upset anyone.  I got to a one-lane bridge where our direction had a "yield" sign and the opposing traffic (which was in an almost stationary queue) was not letting our side through.  The Toyota Tercel at the front of our line wasn't being especially assertive.  I on the other hand was so fed up by this point that I simply forced my way through.  Once on the bridge I tried to stop the opposing traffic (similar to what Audrey and I had done at a traffic jam in China), but the other side was having none of it and kept coming.  I looked back at the Toyota Tercel driver and just shrugged my shoulders in apology before blasting off, riding as quickly as I dared.  I was so overwhelmed and frustrated that I was crying inside my helmet, wondering why I was doing this stupid trip.  I watched the time of arrival on the GPS and made up a few minutes with the fast pace, but it wasn't enough, arriving at the entrance to the Arenal Lodge in twilight, about ten minutes after the sun had set.  The security guard said I had to wait five minutes since the shuttle bus was coming down the steep, one-lane road and there wasn't enough room for two-way traffic.  Once the bus was by, I ascended a steep, wet cobblestone road for about two kilometres.  In the dark.  With occasional patches of fog.  I couldn't believe that I didn't drop the bike on the steep, slippery switchbacks.  At the top was a sign saying, "You made it!" at which point I was pretty much ready to collapse from exhaustion and frustration.  I checked in and was told my chalet was up the hill, a few hundred metres past the "You made it!" sign.  So, I decided to drag myself into the restaurant for dinner before going to the chalet.  The chicken was delicious and the Canada Dry ginger ale the most refreshing beverage ever.  As I said, my first impression of Costa Rica wasn't great, but I was willing to give it a chance, so over dinner I booked another night at the Arenal Lodge.  The chalet looked fantastic, and the lodge owner suggested leaving the curtains open since sunrise over Volcan Arenal would be spectacular if the clouds parted.  
 

The window to get the Temporary Import Permit is closed.  No Internet.

 
Waiting for hours.  31 degrees Celsius.  At least in the shade.

 
A Spanish rider has ridden up from Argentina.

 
My bike has just had the most thorough inspection ever

 
The roads in Costa Rica look nice!

 
Arrive at the bottom of the hill at twilight

 


The most refreshing ginger ale ever

 

I woke up at 5:45, in time for sunrise, but the view looked pretty similar to the sunrise on top of Temple IV at Tikal.  Nothing but fog.  I watched the Formula 1 race on TV after breakfast and after lunch went for a hike on a jungle trail.  The lodge owner said that the mist and rain was actually perfect for the hike since when it is sunny it can be hot and oppressive on the trail.  The lodge used to be a macadamia farm, but the soil was too sandy, so the trees with their shallow roots ended up falling over and now there was a jungle preserve.  The jungle walk was interesting and quite relaxing after the day before.  At one point I was startled by rustling in the jungle just a couple of metres off the trail, and I saw a couple of small mammals climbing a tree and looking at me.  I imagine I startled the coatimundi as much they startled me.  Later in the afternoon I read a book on the iPad while enjoying a delicious cappuccino in the lounge.  The evening after dinner was spent watching the MotoGP race.  OK, I was relaxed now and had recuperated from the stresses of the day before.  Ready to explore Costa Rica.
 

Isn't this the same view as sunrise at Temple IV in Tikal?

 
The other chalets

 
I am on the second floor

 
When it clears up, what a view!

 


 
The macadamia trees didn't last long

 
While the farm lasted the nuts were included in this brand

 
This photo was taken after I got home.

Top tip, don't keep chocolate macadamia nuts in the hot saddlebag of a motorcycle.

 
Going for a jungle hike

 




The Inga tree (from Inka, monarch of the Inca Empire)

 
A coatimundi gives me a scare

 
They look just as frightened as me

 
Parakeets (?) flying above the jungle

 
The best view of Volcan Arenal

 
Reading a book with a cappuccino in the lodge

 
Moonrise over Volcan Arenal

 

Leaving the Arenal Lodge (never having seen the top of the Arenal Volcano) it was down the steep, cobblestone road.  Much better when fresh in the morning and in daylight.  I rode back to the touristy town of La Fortuna (where I gassed up, since I had gone on reserve on the ride from the border), passing a number of hot springs, and then headed south on Highway 702.  What a perfect road!  Smooth asphalt with a distinct lack of potholes.  And lots of curves.  It seemed to be a tourist route though with zip lines, canyoning, rope swings and coffee farm tours but fortunately not a lot of traffic.  I stopped for lunch at a small roadside restaurant up on a ridge in coffee country where the signs out front and the menu were in English, confirming I was indeed on a tourist route.  After lunch the road started to descend from the 1,400 metre highlands and I missed a turn on the GPS so ended up on a small side road.  Even off the tourist route though, everything was still so incredibly clean.  There was no garbage along the roads (except in bags ready to be picked up) and "average" rural houses were well maintained, not displaying the poverty of some of the preceding nations.  What made Costa Rica so special?  As I descended in elevation, the temperature ascended and soon enough it was above 30 degrees again and I was also back in a tourist zone along the Pacific shore with ATV tours, crocodile farms and chocolate tours (wait, what?).  I arrived early enough that I could do some hand wash since things didn't dry that well up in the cloud forest at Arenal Lodge and then went for a walk along Playa Hermosa.  During the right time of year, this beach is famous for its egg-laying turtles, but this wasn't the right time of year.  In the morning, I took a good long walk up the beach but even by 8:00 it was already getting warm.  In an effort to get away from the tourist areas I "forced" the GPS to route me along some back roads.  It took quite a bit of forcing to make it choose the road I wanted to take and once I got to the turnoff I could see why.  It was a gravel road going through a palm tree plantation.  After 16 kilometres of the gravel road, I stopped and reassessed the situation since the steering head nut was once again loose and I didn't think the pounding would do it any good.  It seemed the only alternative was to backtrack and then take a toll road to San José, the capital of Costa Rica.  Well, I didn't want to do that, so I decided to keep going and was glad that I did.  After four kilometres the gravel turned into rough, potholed pavement and started to climb.  I was really enjoying myself and appreciated being away from the tourist areas and even here, in rural Costa Rica, the houses were nice looking and well maintained.  After climbing and descending a couple of times I ended up at 1,500 metres and a local restaurant (menu not in English) where tacos and a Coke provided the sustenance.  After riding along a ridge for a while, the road started to descend to San José, which is at about 1,200 metres where the traffic picked up of course, but never became truly bad.  Heck, they even had bike lanes!  Surely the sign of a civilized society.  I was starting to come around to Costa Rica's charms.
 

Breakfast in the lodge before heading off

 
The slick, steep road down is easier in the daytime

 
Wow, what beautiful roads

 
I could really get to enjoy this

 
Lunchtime with an English menu

 
Coffee plantations

 
What, Petro-Canada?

 
Riding along a ridge before dropping down

 
He's having fun

 
That's right, in Costa Rica you ride on a bed of flower petals

 
Garbage in a bin for pick up (not strewn about)

 
Back at the Pacific

 
Nice soft sand

 
Turtles not in season now

 
Pelicans following the waves at Playa Hermosa

 

Gravel road through a palm plantation

 


Yay, pavement!

 
Climbing higher and higher

 
Prefer rough pavement over rough gravel

 
Climbing up to about 1,500 metres

 
And a steep descent

 
San José, remarkably little pollution

 

After finishing up the Nicaragua chapter of the website in the morning I walked into downtown along a pedestrian mall.  I walked past the National Theatre and saw a poster for a musical called Henrietta which showed a young woman on a motorcycle.  The show was on until March 27 so when I went to a café for lunch, I checked the theatre's website.  The description sounded great:

"At Espressivo, we chose an exciting story full of love, struggle, conflict, humor, social criticism to celebrate 200 years of independent life in Costa Rica... a story that will undoubtedly inspire future generations and illuminate the current challenges of our country, at a time to celebrate the Costa Rican idiosyncrasy and remember the foundations of those who founded modern Costa Rica.  Through musical theater we will learn about the events of a momentous decade in our history such as the 1940s, from the perspective of Henrietta Boggs, a young woman from Alabama, United States, who arrived in Costa Rica and who, by force of fate, became in First Lady of the Republic in 1948."

There were tickets available for tomorrow night's show but not tonight.  In the end I probably wouldn't have got much out of a musical in Spanish anyway but still I am sure it would have been fun.  After lunch I wandered over to the National Museum to learn a little more of the history of Costa Rica.  Just after the ticket booth, the first exhibit was a butterfly garden with large, colourful butterflies zipping around randomly.  After exiting through the double doors (to keep the butterflies in) and just off the courtyard were a couple of rooms celebrating the bicentenary of Costa Rican independence.  September 15, 1821 was the date that the Kingdom of Guatemala cut its colonial ties with Spain.  The exhibit celebrated that independence from a Costa Rican perspective, how it happened so suddenly, and how independent states needed to quickly develop systems of government.  Two large wings around a central courtyard formed the rest of the museum, and I was actually glad that the Pre-Columbian wing was closed for renovation.  This meant that I could focus more on the history of Costa Rica and perhaps I could find out why Costa Rica seemed so different from the other Central American countries I had come through.  One thing jumped out at me right away.  Costa Rica abolished the army in 1948 after a bloody civil war.  A ceremony was held in Cuartel Bellavista, an army base in San José, and in 1949 the military was abolished in the constitution.  The budget dedicated to the military was now distributed to security, education, and culture.  The army base, Cuartel Bellavista, was turned into the Museo Nacional de Costa Rica where I was now standing.  Other displays in the museum showed the social and cultural programs (such as free education and health care) that made Costa Rica what it is today.  Of course, these programs (or the military for that matter) wouldn't be possible without resources and Costa Rica's first and most important export, coffee, played an important role in the nation's development.  Later banana and pineapple plantations joined the coffee plantations but also the realization that there were ecological challenges associated with the increased agriculture.  Costa Rica made a conscious effort to protect nature and today about 25% of Costa Rica is protected, leading to another economic spinoff, tourism.  That certainly explained all the tourist activities I had seen on the ride to San José.  After the museum I walked around downtown a bit more, ending up at a local bakery for a piece of cake and a cappuccino.
 

Bike lanes in San José

 
And EV chargers too, I like this place!

 
Pedestrian mall

 
I love random art

 
Welcome to San José

 
National Theatre

 
This looks like a great musical!

 
Bike racks at the entrance to the museum

 
Cuartel Bellavista army barracks was turned into Museo Nacional de Costa Rica

 
These stone spheres are an interesting mystery

 
Butterfly garden

 




Yay, dishes!


The bicentennial rooms

 
The courtyard has more of the stone spheres

 
Antique map before explorers ventured further west

 




Coffee plantation exhibit

 
Legislative Assembly building

 
Dinner with my Sweetheart

March 24, I rode north out of San José on, what the map promised to be a nice, curvy road in the mountains.  After clearing the city, the road started to climb up into the mountains and into the clouds through Braulio Carrillo National Park.  While the road up and over the mountains was indeed curvy as promised it also had lots of trucks.  The two-lane road opened up every now and again with a passing lane, so I wasn't delayed too much but combined with the light rain (not enough to put on rain gear though) the ride wasn't as pleasant as I had hoped.  It was also a toll road where the inconvenience of paying the toll (take off gloves, rummage around in wallet, take the change and the ticket to stuff into the wallet, put on gloves) far outweighed the monetary cost of 50 colón (about 10 cents).  Perhaps the toll was to pay for the road improvements that were being built all the way to Limón.  The road became one big construction zone for about 100 kilometres and more and more truck traffic joined the mix.  At a police checkpoint I was pulled over by a motorcycle cop.  His police bike was a BMW F850GS and when I was chatting with him, he said his personal bike was a classic Honda Africa Twin.  He took my driver's licence (but none of the bike paperwork that had taken me five hours to obtain at the border) back to his bike and opened the top case.  He pulled out his ticket book (wait, what?) and reached underneath to pull out a patch.  A Costa Rica traffic police patch.  He handed it to me as a souvenir of our little visit.  Much nicer than a ticket!  Close to Limón it was almost wall to wall trucks, most of them carrying containers, and there were a few container depots as well.  I was sitting in a queue, not moving when I noticed a restaurant called Container.  It was lunch time so why not?  An enormous plate of chop suey later, I rejoined the queue and rode a few more kilometres towards Limón before turning south to ride along the coast to Cahuita.  Those 40 kilometres were so much more pleasant once I was away from the truck traffic at the container port and I was once again on the Caribbean coast.  Hotel La Diosa was right on the coast and once I had settled into my three-bedroom villa (it was all that was available) I sat on the rocky shore and watched the waves crash onto the volcanic rock.  The hotel restaurant was only open for breakfast, so I crossed the street to Restaurante Bananas for supper where there were German speaking parties at a couple of the tables and the owner spoke German.  I have to admit my brain was much more comfortable with German than Spanish and I found it easy to switch my thinking even after a couple of months of trying to think in Spanish.  The next morning it was raining quite steadily, not a tropical deluge but enough to make me rethink heading for the border with Panama right at that moment.  I thought that crossing a border in the rain would be even worse than crossing in the heat.  My weather app suggested the rain would taper off at about 9:00 but the server at breakfast wasn't convinced, thinking the rain would probably continue.  Not wanting to repeat riding in the dark from when I left Nicaragua and then again when entering Costa Rica, I thought I would give it until 9:00 but no longer.  The rain did let up so that after I wiped the bike down (a nice bike wash) I could get going.  I arrived at the border at 10:00 AM but Panama is on Eastern Time, so it was 11:00 on the other side and I hoped the border process wouldn't take too long.  I pulled up at the new bridge (you should see the old bridge) and parked while looking for the immigration offices.  Because of the new bridge the offices were down an embankment and difficult to see from the road, but a helper pointed me in the right direction.  The Costa Rica side of the border took about an hour, first as a line of people were ahead of me at immigration for the passport stamp and then getting the TIP cancelled.  At the customs office I couldn't find anyone, but a non-uniformed person told me to bring my bike over for inspection.  Having had lots of "helpers" at borders I wasn't about to trust just anyone, so I grilled him and asked to see his identification.  He apologized that he wasn't in uniform, but he really was a customs agent.  I thought that there wouldn't be any harm if I did bring the bike over so walked back and backtracked to where I could come down the embankment.  The same guy took my paperwork and checked the VIN before going into the office.  OK, that seemed pretty legit.  In all it took about an hour to leave Costa Rica and I crossed the bridge to Panama at noon.  Costa Rica had been an amazing place to explore, and I was really sorry that I couldn't stay longer.  I know I will have to come back.

That cloud bank has been hanging there all morning.  That's where I am headed.

 
Slow riding through the national park

 
Slow riding through 100 kilometres of construction

 
Stopped by the police and given a patch!

 
Banana plantation

 
Container logistics near Limón

 
When near a container port...

 
Must be a pretty major port with all the truck traffic

 
Finally, free of the trucks

 
At the Caribbean coast

 
Nice garden path at Hotel La Diosa

 
Waves slamming ashore

 
Riding to the border after the rain has stopped

 
This looks like the border with the trucks lined up

 
The new bridge between Costa Rica and Panama

 
This is the old bridge, that would have been interesting!

 
GPS tracks through Costa Rica  

Chapter 10: Panama - The End of the Road

I crossed the new bridge to Panama from Costa Rica at about noon on March 25 and again had some trouble finding immigration because of the new bridge. Yep, it was down the embankment, so I had to backtrack along a side road below the bridge and even then, it was difficult to find. It was behind an enormous duty-free shop with no signs pointing the way. There were the young people I was behind in Costa Rica, so it was a bit of a wait to get my passport stamped. I had filled in an online form to enter Panama, but the officer didn't ask for anything, so I assume that the online form was tied electronically to my passport as it went fairly quickly. Then I went to another office (back up at the same level as the bridge) to pay the quarantine fee and a tourist tax. At the aduana to get the Temporary Import Permit I was told I needed to buy the mandatory motorcycle insurance first. There was a small trailer nearby with a sign indicating that insurance could be purchased there and the "helpers" hanging around said that it was indeed the correct place, but the door was locked, and no one was around. So, I waited. And waited. An hour later a woman came back from her lunch break and soon I was able to buy the insurance and take the documents over to aduana. I gave the officer all the necessary forms and he told me to grab a seat and wait about 20 minutes while they did the paperwork. I saw him come out of the office a while later and check the bike. He came over to me and asked me what the model of the bike was. This is a problem I had experienced before, and the reason is that my custom licence plate is the same as the bike model so when someone is unfamiliar with the Alberta registration document, they can't necessarily tell which is which. So, there is a pro tip for you, don't get a custom licence plate that matches your bike! I got out of the border area at 2:00 and entered my 90th country.  Wow, 90 countries visited, 87 by motorbike. 20 kilometres of poor road, passing through another checkpoint, led me to Almirante where the roads were a bit confusing. I was about to turn left when I heard someone shout, "Amigo!" and saw a pickup truck driver wave at me to keep going straight ahead. So, I tucked in behind him and he led me most of the way out of town and then with a wave, turned off. This portion of the road doesn't show up on my AMA road map, showing only a ferry (you'll recall that the same map showed a 4WD track in Mexico that turned out be a newly paved road). That explained why portions of the highway were simply perfect with lovely pavement and enjoyable curves, it was new! Away from the coast and heading south the road started climbing into the hills, reaching about 1,200 metres elevation at the Continental Divide. When I had booked the Horizonte Resort, the description said that there were ocean view rooms and I thought that was an error since the hotel was in the middle of the continent, equidistant from each ocean. But when I checked in, I was upgraded to a nicer room and off in the distance I could see the Pacific, 30 kilometres away. That evening, after the sun had set, I could see the lights of David, a port city on the ocean. For dessert, I splurged on the bananas flambee to celebrate my 90th country. While sitting on the patio in my room, enjoying lovely temperatures and a spectacular view, I heard some meowing and suddenly felt something brush my leg. A cat jumped onto my lap. Its claws dug into my pants and leg while I was petting it, so I ran back inside and grabbed a towel for my lap. Me and my cat had a pleasant evening. It was so pleasant that I had a look at my route and noticed that there wasn't anything of note halfway to Panama City. So, I booked another night at the Horizonte Resort and planned to ride the 500 kilometres to Panama City in one day on Sunday. Saturday was a relaxing day as I worked on the website and read my book. Of course, in the evening I cuddled with my new cat.
 

The bridge across the Rio Sixaola to Panama

 
Beautiful new road

 
Climbing over the continental divide

 


Horizonte Resort high up in the mountains

 
Pretty chuffed to be in my 90th country

 
You can just make out the Pacific Ocean 30 kilometres away

 
A celebratory bananas flambee

 
I have a cat!

 
Breakfast with a view

 
The lights of David far below

 
You can just make out the Southern Cross, I didn't know you could see it from the northern hemispere

 

Sunday morning, they had a buffet breakfast at the restaurant and after that I loaded up the bike and descended on a lovely road down to sea level. Great pavement and lots of curves made for a wonderful Sunday morning ride and judging by the group of Harley-Davidsons going up, others were also enjoying a ride. When I got to the Pan Americana I turned left and cruised along the four-lane divided highway. Police radar traps every few kilometres made sure that no one was going too fast though it was a bit odd that the police presence was so heavy on what I think was probably the safest road since the U.S. Interstates last October. On the map the Pan Americana curves around a volcano before getting to Panama City and when I looked a bit closer, I could see that there was a town right in the caldera of the (hopefully) extinct volcano. Since I was making great time on the superhighway, I decided to check it out and peeled off onto a small two-lane road, climbing into the clouds. I reached the crater rim to find Anton Valley below, shrouded in mist.  I rode through the touristy town (very lively on a Sunday afternoon with day-trippers out of Panama City no doubt) and the GPS led me out the other side in the direction of Panama City.  Just as I left town the mist turned to rain and the road started to climb.  Thinking that I would be up and over the rim shortly and since the weather forecast for Panama City called for 32 degrees, I skipped the rain gear. The road became really steep with signs for Alto Maria pointing the way.  After climbing the steep, wet road I came to a large security gate. The guard was reluctant to get out of his guardhouse and out into the rain but eventually came out to tell me that Alto Maria was a private area, and I was not allowed on the road down to the Pan Americana.  It was only 30 kilometres down to the highway, but I was forced to backtrack for double that distance back down to Anton Valley and south to the Pan Americana. Fortunately, the pouring rain let up as I climbed out of the caldera again though unfortunately the road leaving town was bumper to bumper traffic. The Pan American Highway was also much busier than it had been earlier in the day, so I am guessing this was weekend traffic heading home to Panama City. The traffic split up about 20 kilometres outside of Panama City; to the south on Highway 1, the Pan Americana, and to the north on Highway 4, the route that I took.  Soon I was crossing Puente Centenario over the Panama Canal and I became very emotional. I thought of Audrey, how she would have been so happy to reach this goal. We would have had to pinch each other to make sure it was real, just like when we rode to The Great Wall of China. With tears in my eyes as I looked down on the Canal, I could hear Audrey saying, "My one and only love, Ekke. Your job is to travel out on your motorbike. What else?" I knew I couldn't have done this ride without her, or for that matter, the 80 countries we had ridden through together over the last 20 years.
 

Coming down from the mountains on a beautiful Sunday morning

 
Looking pretty happy

 
A deserted Pan Americana makes for easy riding

 
Only 269 kilometres to Panama City

 
Heading up Volcán El Valle into the clouds

 
At the crater rim

 
Anton Valley shrouded in mist down below

 
In Anton Valley: A Texas truck with Swiss stickers, I wonder what their story is?

 
Climbing out of the caldera as per the GPS towards Altos el Maria

 
Up a steep, wet road

 
We don't need no stinkin' rain gear!

 
Crossing the Panama Canal on Puente Centenario

 
Pretty emotional having achieved this goal

 
Arrived at the Holiday Inn across from the Miraflores Locks

 

I woke up on Monday morning with a spectacular view of ships entering the Miraflores locks on the Panama Canal. I had chosen the Holiday Inn specifically for this view, but I didn't think it would be this close the Miraflores locks. After a typical American buffet breakfast, I went out for a little sightseeing.  As all the museums I had wanted to visit and both Canal visitor centres were closed on Mondays I had adjusted my plans so that I would visit them when I returned from the edge of the Darien Gap. I hopped on the motorbike and rode the causeway to Perico Island.  The causeway ran parallel to the entrance to the Panama Canal and afforded nice views of the ships coming in and the first bridge across the canal, Puente de Las Américas. To the other side was the iconic view of Panama City's skyline. Off the causeway I turned onto the Pan Americana and rode across Puente de Las Américas, the first of the three bridges I would cross today.  This was also the first permanent bridge built over the canal (two previous bridges had moveable sections). Completed in 1962, it still forms part of the Pan American Highway today. It was showing its age with rough pavement and narrow lanes. Next, I crossed the Puente Centenario, the same bridge I had crossed on Sunday. It was constructed in only 29 months and completed on 15 August 2004, the 90th anniversary of the first ship to transit the Panama Canal. As the highways leading to the bridge weren't completed, it was another year before traffic could use the bridge and alleviate the congestion on the Bridge of the Americas. I then took the toll highway to Colón, where I planned to meet Joe and Romy at the Andros Café for lunch. I had first heard of Joe and Romy from Dave Coulson who had met them at a border crossing in Central America. They are from Ontario and had just finished their ride to Panama. Chatting with them (over a terrible lasagna) I discovered they had used the same trucking company as I had to get their bikes across the closed USA border. Then they flew down two days after I did, on 18 October to start their ride to Panama. From Panama they had arranged for their bikes to be shipped by container to Germany and were then going to fly home to await the bikes' arrival before flying themselves to Europe. It was wonderful chatting with people with such a similar journey to my own. Colón was a gritty city with tumbledown buildings on streets that I would be cautious of walking in the daytime, never mind in the dark.  Joe and Romy were staying the night (in a hotel with secure bike parking) but I was riding back to Panama City. First though I wanted to check out the Puente Atlántico and if I could, see the Gatun Locks. The third bridge of the day was the third one completed, opening in August of 2019. Unlike the other two bridges, this one was not carrying a lot of traffic since the area to the west was still undeveloped. In other words, I was free to stop in the middle of the bridge to take photos. I had a great view of the Gatun Locks and could see a couple of freighters southbound and a cruise ship entering the locks northbound.  For a moment I considered waiting for the cruise ship to pass underneath so that I could wave at the people on board, but it was spitting a light rain and I didn't know how long it would take for the cruise ship to go through the locks and reach the bridge or how long before the light rain turned into a tropical downpour. I took the toll highway back to Panama City and completed my coast-to-coast-to-coast ride. It's only 70 kilometres from coast to coast so it's not quite as impressive as riding coast-to-coast-to-coast across Canada and back.
 

Wow, what a view from the hotel

 
Ship entering the Panama Canal

 
That iconic Panama skyline

 
Puente de Las Américas, the first permanent bridge over the canal

 
Crossing the Puente de Las Américas it is showing its age

 
That's the same ship I saw from the causeway down below

 
A viewpoint on the other side has a spectacular view of Puente de Las Américas

 
Riding back across Puente Centenario

 
Toll highway between Panama City and Colón

 
Meeting Joe and Romy in Colón (don't have the lasagna at the Andros Cafe)

 
A rather gritty city is Colón

 
Some of those streets I would hesitate to walk during the daytime, never mind at night

 
The third Panama Canal bridge, currently it leads to nowhere

 


Great view of the Gatun Locks (too bad the visitor centre is closed on Mondays)

 
Freighters in the locks

 
A cruise ship is coming down from Lake Gatun, should I wait for it?

 
The Panama Canal Railway is still an important link

 

On Tuesday morning I popped over to the Miraflores locks visitor centre, across from the hotel, at 9:00 AM. There were several tour buses disgorging passengers with prepaid tickets, so I first lined up to purchase a ticket and then joined them to get into the visitor centre. I was disappointed to learn the museum itself was closed for renovation. When I got to the viewing platform, a ship I had seen from my hotel room was just leaving the locks. No other ships were coming up the canal so I wouldn't see any being raised today. So that was a bit of a bust, but it did mean I was able to return to the hotel and check out early enough that maybe I could make it to the end of the road at the Darien Gap today. Both Google Maps and the GPS indicated that I should be able to ride to end of the Pan Americana and then return to Torti where there was a decent-looking hotel. I packed up and got going, taking the toll road through Panama City to make time. When I got to the toll plaza I pulled up to a booth behind a car. The car slowed down and then, without them stopping, the boom raised, and they went through. When I got there the boom did not raise automatically though and there was no one in the booth to take money. I backed up a little, thinking that maybe there was a licence plate reader that had trouble reading my plate and sure enough after a bit of a hesitation the boom went up. I looked to see if there was somewhere to pay or if anyone was running out to wave me down but there was nothing. 20 kilometres of lightly trafficked superhighway later (easily saving half an hour or more of riding on the surface streets) I came to the exit toll plaza. I slowed down and looked carefully at all the booths but didn't see one that had a person in it. Cars were going through, and the booms were opening automatically. So, I rode up and again there was a long pause before the gate opened for me. Well, I hoped I didn't get a big honking ticket in the mail, or worse, I get flagged when trying to leave the country. I joined the Pan American Highway and its melee of traffic for about 20 or 30 kilometres before the road opened up and I started making good time. The GPS was still saying I could make it to the end of the road and back to Torti by 5:10 PM. Then the road got worse, scattered with potholes and rough sections but by the time I got to Torti, and the Hotel Avicar, the GPS was still saying I could make it back by 5:30, well before the 6:30 sunset. I popped in to see if they had a room for me that evening and I was delighted to find that they did. I asked the clerk if she thought I could make it to Yaviza and back before dark. She called over a customer whose English was better than hers (and better than my Spanish!) who said he drove the road quite regularly. He said the road was in the same rough condition for about 30 kilometres and then, after a police checkpoint, it improved for the remaining 100 kilometres to Yaviza. He thought it might be possible to make it back before dark but that he wouldn't recommend it. If I was delayed for some reason, I would be riding in the dark on the 30 kilometres of potholed roads. I thanked him, decided to stay in Torti and checked into my room before having a delicious panini in the hotel restaurant for lunch. I walked around Torti and ended up at a coffee shop by a Texaco gas station. Here I did some calculations regarding my fuel situation. The air cargo regulations stipulated having only a small amount of fuel in the tank when shipping the motorcycle so if I filled up now I would have about 10 litres excess fuel in the tank when I got back to Panama City. I determined that if I splashed in 5 litres tomorrow, after the 260 kilometre ride to Yaviza and back, I would go on reserve near my hotel in Panama City. Hopefully that works out! The next morning, March 30, I left Hotel Avicar after an early breakfast and headed east on the Pan American Highway.  The road was indeed rough all the way to the police checkpoint and slow going as I dodged potholes and pounded through rough parts of the road. At the checkpoint I had to show my passport and register that I was entering the Darien area. I told them I was going to the end of the road and would be back later so, "Hasta luego!" Right after the checkpoint the road seemed to be freshly paved and in perfect condition, the only thing preventing me from riding 100 km/hr (speed limit of 80) was the occasional radar trap. The highway cut through the jungle and villages with equal impunity as it arrowed southeast. I had been fortunate so far in that the ever-present clouds had held off, but my luck ran out 20 minutes after leaving the checkpoint.  The heavens opened up and a tropical downpour had me searching for shelter and putting on my raingear. It rained with varying degrees of intensity all the way to Yaviza, the town at the end of the North American portion of the Pan American Highway. I rode through the lively town, which seemed to be a jumping off point for journeys further into the jungle, to a park at the end of the road. To the right was a pedestrian bridge over the Rio Chucunaque and to the left a narrow alley looping back through town. I had done it. To the very end of the road. Just as when I crossed the Panama Canal, I was overcome with emotion and could think of nothing else but Audrey and how we would have been high fiving in the rain while locals looked on curiously. I stood under an awning as the rain intensified and just let the emotions wash over me.

The ship in the foreground is heading for the Miraflores Locks, the container ship in the background is in the new locks to accommodate large ships

 
Miraflores Locks viewing platform

 
The same ship I had seen from my hotel room just leaving the locks

 
This ship is also leaving the locks, check out the "mules" that keep it aligned in the channel

 
Riding to the end of the road, east of Panama City

 


 Jungle and ranches were the order of the day

 
Hotel Avicar for lunch and stay for the night

 
Wow, those are some enormous logs

 
Early morning ride towards Yaviza

 


Perfect pavement for the last 100 km of the Pan Americana

 
A tropical rainstorm

 
The town at the end of the Pan Americana


The end of the road

 
A pedestrian bridge continues from here and on to the jungle of the Darien Gap

 
Me and my Sweetie

 

As the rain was persistent, I didn't want to dally too much in Yaviza and started my return trip. I checked out at the police checkpoint and had lunch at the Hotel Avicar before adding 5 litres of fuel at the Texaco. From there it was about 150 kilometres to the Plaza Paitilla Inn in Panama City of which more than 100 kilometres was simply retracing my tracks from the day before. I again ended up on a toll road even though I kept an eye out for signs indicating that only vehicles with a toll tag would be allowed to enter. The same thing happened; the gate opened almost immediately for the cars but not for me but it did let me through. I checked in and went up to my 10th floor room to be rewarded with a stunning view of the Panama City skyline and bay. On Thursday I walked along the shore of the bay on the Malecon to the Old Town. The beautiful old buildings were quite a contrast to the modern skyline of Panama City. As the Miraflores Locks visitor museum had been closed I was really looking forward to the Canal Museum in the Old Town. The museum is in the building that was the headquarters for the French and American canal construction companies and dates from 1874 with the museum opening in 1997. The Panama Canal (preceded by the railroad) had been a dream for many years for the savings in time to go around the southern tip of South America on the journey from Europe to the far east and even the west coast of North America. Hundreds of thousands of people crossed the isthmus to get to the California Gold Rush rather than using the dangerous wagon route across the U.S.A. between 1848 and 1869. The French had built the Suez Canal and were willing to use their skills to build a canal across Panama. The soil conditions and climate were greatly different between the jungles of Panama and the deserts of Egypt though and their skills were not that transferrable. On top of that, the French plan had been to construct the canal without any locks, running at sea level the whole way. That would have necessitated digging down over 100 metres through some sections. Their efforts ended in scandal as the company lost half a billion francs and members of the French government had taken bribes to keep quiet about it. It was the largest monetary corruption scandal of the 19th century. The United States took over the project in 1904 with completion in 1914 using locks to lift ships up to the artificial Lake Gatun. I loved the whole history of the project and of course the engineering required to finish it. After the museum I wandered over to an Italian restaurant for lunch and later in the afternoon contemplated my return to the hotel. It was over 30 degrees Celsius, and the humidity made it feel even hotter, so I wasn't relishing the walk back to the hotel. I had seen a few Bird eScooters so I reinstalled the App on my phone and found a few nearby. It was super easy to get one fired up and soon I was zooming home along the bike path, wind in my hair, Panama's skyline to the left and the bay on my right.
 

Time to turn north, the beginning of the Pan American Highway

 
Well, only 12,580 km to Alaska.  Why not?

 
Stopping for lunch at Hotel Avicar and drying off a little

 
Entering Panama City

 
What a view!

 




The next day, I walk into town
 

Fishing boats at the wharf

 
The Old Town

 


Panama Metropolitan Cathedral

 
The Canal Museum in the building that used to be the headquarters for the construction companies

 
The Panama Canal roughly follows the alignment of the railroad

 
I was a surveyor a lifetime ago and I always love seeing the instruments from an earlier time

 
This looks really hard

 
Even with power equipment it wasn't an easy task

 
Delicious gnocchi at an Italian restaurant

 
Riding an eScooter back to the hotel

 
Heading back along the bay

 

On Friday morning I rode over to car wash to get the bike cleaned up before taking it to cargo Saturday. For $7 two guys did an amazing job removing several thousand kilometres of road grime. When was the last time I washed the bike, and does riding in the rain count? I then rode over to what I thought was a laundromat to wash my motorcycle clothes before stuffing them in a saddlebag. It turned out to be a laundry service and they said they would have my clothes ready in about three hours. A bakery next door looked perfect for lunch. I had finished my waffle with scrambled eggs and bacon (yum!) and was reading my book when it started to rain. So, I ordered a chai tea latte and settled in to do some more reading. When the server brought over the tea, he suggested I go outside to check on my motorbike. The rain had become a tropical deluge and my bike was parked in a low spot where a lake had formed. The water level was almost at the bottom of the saddlebags and still rising. I thought that if the water level reached the saddlebags, it might float the bike enough to tip it over and then I would have a real problem getting the bike to cargo on Saturday. In the meantime, short of going out into the downpour and wading into knee-deep water to push the bike out of the lake, there wasn't much I could do. The bakery staff and I stood on their patio and watched as cars drove through the lake, pushing large bow waves into my motorcycle. The bike moved around enough to make me nervous, but it didn't look like it was going to tip over, so I left it there. After 20 minutes or so the deluge tapered off into a light rain and soon that stopped too. Amazingly the lake drained in about 15 minutes so I could walk over to the laundry service and pick up my gear. Not wanting to get it dirty and wet I left my clothes in the duffle bag and rode back to the hotel without putting my jacket on. Saturday morning, I rode over to E-Cargo at the airport where Raul greeted me and started the paperwork to ship the bike home to Calgary. When he had finished that, we went to customs where they cleared the paperwork without inspecting the motorcycle. Back at the warehouse I asked Raul why my passport hadn't been stamped. My passport had been stamped when I entered Panama saying that I wasn't authorized to leave the country without the motorcycle, so I didn't want to run into any trouble at the airport when I left. We returned to customs where they did some more paperwork and stamped my passport to indicate the bike was being shipped home separately. I then rolled the bike into the warehouse for them to crate and I was free to go. Uber would only pick me up at the airport terminal, so I asked Raul to give me a ride there. Even though the straight-line distance was only a few hundred metres across the airport I think it was closer to 10 kilometres by the time we went all the way around. An Uber picked me up and I was back at the hotel by 10:30 in the morning, one of the easier border crossings of the trip.
 

Getting the bike washed

 
These two guys did a great job!

 
Nice clean bike, though a building seems to be photobombing my shot

 
The iconic F&F Tower (previously Revolution Tower)

 
Waffle with eggs and bacon is delicious

 
A sudden rainstorm creates a lake

 
Waves threaten to topple the bike

15 minutes after the rain stopped, the lake was gone

 
Dropping the bike off at E-Cargo

 
I can leave the helmet on the bike as it is going to be crated

Canada had eliminated the need for a COVID test prior to departure but since I passed through Houston on Monday's flight home, I needed a rapid test for the USA. I got that done on Sunday at a clinic within walking distance of the hotel, afterwards going for a walk and visiting a couple of different coffee shops for my last day in Panama. Going through immigration on Monday at the airport the officer paused at the page that had the stamp which said I wasn't authorized to leave the country without my motorbike. He went over to his neighbour where they discussed the situation and then called over a supervisor. In the meantime, I pulled the customs form out of my bag that indicated the bike had been cleared at the cargo terminal and showed that to the supervisor. With that I was free to go. It was a nice four-hour flight to Houston with a four-hour layover and then four hours of the bumpiest flight I have had in a long time to Calgary. A week later my bike arrived at YYC but some of the paperwork from Panama hadn't been filled in correctly, so it took a couple of days to get it sorted out between the shipper in Panama, DHL, and Canada Customs. Finally on Wednesday, April 13 I was able to pick up the bike. While the weather was OK on Monday, by Wednesday snow showers and cold weather (for someone who is used to 30 degrees!) made me glad that Al Nielsen had his truck. DHL cracked open the crate and in a few minutes we had pushed the bike up onto Al's truck for the final leg home. What a ride it had been from Mexico City all the way to the end of the Pan American Highway and now home to snowy Alberta.
 

Home with Audrey

 
Picking up the bike on a cold and snowy day

 
Riding the bike home

 
Thanks for the ride Al!

 
My wall map before the ride to Panama

 
And after the ride

 
GPS Tracks of the whole ride, from Las Vegas to Yaviza

 
Map showing my GPS tracks through Panama