Alaska to Argentina

The Desert and down to Chile

Kenton — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 01:37:07 +0000

The ride from Nazca, Peru was fairly uneventful. I spent 3 very long days on the road. Riding from sun up to sundown mostly through the desert. Passing the time with tunes on my ipod and through contemplation of all kinds of subjects meaningful and otherwise. I was worried about running out of gas several times as the distances in the Chilean deserts between towns with gas stations is staggering. On the fourth day I rode from La Serena to Vina. A four hour ride. The smells changed, the desert disappeared. Orchards, vineyards, and farmland dominating the landscape and the signs of a civilization blessed with a much higher degree of prosperity than anything I’d seen since leaving the United States four months ago.

I”m now in Vina Del Mar Chile and the end of my ride is now in sight. Its the fall down here and the nights are crisp. The leaves are beginning to turn and the world as it is prepares for the winter. I contemplate this as I realize that I have gone nearly half way around the world on a motorcycle. Vina Del Mar is very close to the opposite latitude of Vancouver, where i left from. And further south, lies an area devastated by one of the strongest earthquakes ever recorded. Vina was lucky enough to avoid any major damage or death, but the country is visibly shaken.

I met up with John’s good friend Brian a couple of days ago who at the moment calls Vina home. We spent a day on the beach where he explained to me under normal circumstances it would be packed with foreign and domestic tourists, but was almost deserted. The main topic of conversation is the earthquake in bars, cafes, and the homes of all Chileans.

I’ve been welcomed into Brian’s home with great kindness. A room to stay in, a safe place for my bike, and full use of the house. Brian works up north on eight day shifts and won’t be back for another week now. It has been really nice to live out of a household again and not a hotel. I plan on taking full advantage of my situation and plan on doing a bit of exploring in the city and in Valparaiso, the city right next door.

I will be considering my options on how to finish the trip off over the next week. I want to go further south and may end up going through the earthquake zone here in Chile and then cross over into Argentina and loop back up into Santiago. Or I may cross over to Beunos Aries. Either way the next few weeks are sure to hold an abundance of adventure still to be had.

Glad to have you all along,

Kent

Columbia, Equador, and Peru

Kenton — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 00:38:23 +0000

Picking up where I left off, I left Turbo feeling ready to conquer some roads. The road from Turbo to Medillien was of very poor quality, but it was the only option I had. Aside from the fact that I was navigating sharp corners high up in the mountains on gravel roads, the military presence was heavy. Armored trucks and personal carriers were stationed every five to 10 km. Turbo is in the Darian region of Columbia where the war on drugs and guerrillas still has a major impact. Next stop, Mediellen, at one time considered to be one of the most dangerous places in the world.
Mediellien proved to be the complete opposite of what I had imagined. The city is very modern, easy to navigate, and exceptionally beautiful. However, it is a city of stark contrasts. In some places you can walk across the street into the wrong neighborhood where your life will surely be in danger. I didn’t venture into any of these places. I found the Pan-American Highway and was on my way.
Columbia is Beautiful. From lush valleys to massive green mountains to pristine lakes and rivers, this country was easy on the eyes. My first night was spent in a little mountain village. The views were staggering, day and night. There are homes and farms all over the mountain sides and in the night, the valley looks like a massive Christmas light decoration.
The people here were incredibly kind and hospitable.
The next day I drove all day. I was on a mission. My parents had arranged to meet me on the 19th on February in Huan Chaco Peru. I had seven days to get through the rest of Columbia, all of Ecuador, and a bit of Peru. At one point, the Colombian Pan-American turned into a big four lane freeway and I was able to make really good time. Later in the day the road turned back into a two lane twisting through the mountains bordering Ecuador. I spent the night in a town about an hour and a half from the Ecuador border. I traveled Columbia in two days.
Getting into Ecuador was a breeze. I quickly learned that, not to be out done by the Colombians, the people in Ecuador were just as kind and welcoming. Ecuador is basically one big mountain range. The mountains are massive and green. The Pan-American winds its way up and down the mountains for about 1500kms. This was going to be fun. I pictured one of those “CAUTION Curves ahead” signs at the entrance to Ecuador, but this time instead of a measly “Next 15km” or something like that it would say “Next 1500km.” At times the road is up to 17000ft at the top of some of the peaks. This would prove to be a bit much on my finely tuned carburetor.
The first day in Ecuador I would be passing through the Equator. I told my self to be sure to stop and get the picture of the Equator marker with my half of my self in each hemisphere. But I never looked at a map to see where exactly it was and by the time i looked at a map to check I was about 4 hours past. I also drove through Quito which proved to be fairly frustrating and crazy. It was almost nightfall by the time I got out of the city and it had started to rain. I found a motel along the highway and hunkered down for the night.
The next day I tried to drive another big chunk of the country. It was Carnival today. A big celebration for the whole country and a national long weekend holiday. It was cool to see, but every little town I went through had a huge street party going and I had to drive right through the middle. A perfect target for water balloons. I spent the rest of the day dodging buckets of water water balloons and people with hoses standing along the side of the road getting cars and everything else going by. Most of the projectiles I was able to dodge. But some kids were pretty smart. They would hide behind bushes or on the roofs of houses so I couldn’t see them. I got nailed pretty good a couple of times. It made the drive kinda fun. Generally eight hours of driving even on beautiful paved roads through mountains can get a little tedious. I made it to a town about 2 and a half hours from the border. Not bad.
The town was way up in the mountains. The air was crisp and clean, and the views spectacular.
The next day I headed to the border and arrived in good time. I accidentally took a wrong turn before the border though and went 20 minutes down a side road. No big deal. But the kids with the water were out in force. And I had to go through everything twice because I had to turn back. There was one group of kids that had set up the perfect trap. Four of them on each side of the road just on the other side of a slow corner. With no room to maneuver I got soaked the first time alright. And absolutely destroyed when I came back. I’m sure they heard me coming on the way back, they all had massive evil grins and perhaps larger buckets of water.
Finally in Peru, I was actually looking forward to a little bit of straight road driving. The coast of Peru is just a big ol desert. The roads are straight and flat and the sand goes for miles. I immediately noticed a difference in the quality of life for some northern Peruvians in these towns. They were incredibly dirty. Garbage was absolutely everywhere and the smell was horrendous. Some peoples front yards were literally just big piles of garbage. The desert was also littered with trash. I saw many people throwing all kinds of stuff out of the windows of their cars. It was a bit disturbing. I spent the night in Piura. I would be in Huan Chaco the next day.
I woke up early and drove the three hours to Huan Chaco where I let out a big sigh of relief. I found my self a nice hotel and settled in to wait the next three nights for my parents to arrive. I did lots of relaxing and surfing. It was nice to be stationary.
My parents arrived on the 19th and I moved into the same hotel as them. A beautiful spot overlooking the beach, daily room cleanings, food and pretty much anything else available with a simple call. This was the life.
The next day I had planned to go up to a famous surf spot called Chicama where the longest left hand wave in the world can be seen and surfed. My parents would go into Trujillo for the day and see the city. I had some great surfing although the waves weren’t all that big. With a bigger swell that place would be amazing.
Over the next few days with my parents we visited several archeological sites and museums about the ancient desert civilizations in the area. The ruins were very remarkable and museums even more so. The dead kings were buried with lots of gold things and pottery. Good description right.
My favorite site was Chan Chan. It was just outside of Huan Chaco and was the capital city for one of the ancient civilizations. It has been wonderfully restored and is really a wonder to walk though. Our guide was also excellent. He had a horn made out of a shell and also played a ancient flute-like instrument for us.
My parents left on the 25th to go to Lima for a day and then back to Calgary. It was great to see them and our time spent together just flew by.
The next day I was going to go into Trujillo and get some work done on my bike. I needed a new rear tire, chain and sprocket, oil change, new brake pads, and several things fixed on my rack. But, I ended up just chillin out in the hotel, getting room service. and surfin all day.
Okay, so the next day I went into Trujillo and found a mechanic. We spent all day sourcing the parts from various shops across the city. We were able to get all the work done on the bike, but I would need to come back to get the rack done.
Unfortunately I got sick for the next two days. I spent alot of time watching the Olympics which was kinda nice as I really hadn’t seen any yet. On Sunday I watched the hockey game. You know the one. Then I got back to the shop on Monday and got things sorted with my rack.
Tuesday, I was back on the road. I drove to Huacho. Nothing much to see really. The desert is kinda boring. The next day I drove through Lima and down to Nazca to see the Nazca Lines. Today I took a flight over the desert where the lines are. It was really cool to see them. Its incredible to think that they were made by a civilization a couple of thousand of years ago. The accuracy is amazing.
Tomorrow I’ll be back on the road. I’ve got another couple of long days ahead of me. I’m on my way to Vina, Chile to meet up with a friend of John’s who is going to put me up for a few days I hope. If he doesn’t, John’s going to kick him in the neck. Or something like that.

Cheers

Kent

Panama to Columbia, Sailing Through the San Blas then Stranded in the Darian

Kenton — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 17:37:27 +0000

The last week has been an adventure to say the least. I’ll start from where I left off last time at Luna’s Castle Hostel in Panama City.
Its 5am and 25 people sit on the sidewalk outside of the Hostel. All of us waiting for a convey of Land Cruisers to take us to Carti Panama on the Caribbean coast. Myself ready to follow along with my motorcycle. I put most of my gear on the land cruisers because I’m told the road to Carti is a little rough. The convey starts a bit late but we’re on the road driving at 120km per hour on the Panamanian freeways. My poor motorcycle is being pushed to the limit because its geared to cruise around 90 to 100km per hour. I get dropped a few times but manage to keep up until the turn off to Carti. Here the road turns into rugged gravel and mud. I have no troubles keeping up. I have to cross a big river. Its not so deep, but its definitely the longest I’ve ever crossed. I’m happy now that I had lots of practice in Costa Rica with Jesse and that scooter. We get to the end of the road.
The next stage is to put the bike on a little launcha which will take us up the river and into the Caribbean where our sailboat is waiting. I’m worried about putting the bike on the boat, but am reassured to hear that they do this all the time. Once we get to the sail boat the captain Jean Pierre, a Frenchman…from France as it happens, tells me to use a rope to strap up the bike which will the be hoisted ten feet in the air over the railing and safely on to the boat. Aside from the stress this is causing me it all goes to plan.
The rest of the passengers arrive on another boat and we’re on our way. We cruise about 2 hours to a little island where we stop for the night. I find out we’re now going to follow another boat and go to Sapzurro instead of Categena. I don’t know where Sapzurro is, but assume I will be able to drive out of there…
The captain goes on to the island, we figure to go buy a hooker, and spends the night. The rest of the passengers and myself party almost until the sun comes up. We all have pirate names by the end of the night. I’m Chopper. There is Sticky Fingers, Squirter, Luke Perry, and Bumbacla among others that I’m loath to say. I figure this is going to be a fun boat ride.
Jean Pierre arrives sometime in the morning and we get going while i’m still sleeping.
Our boat is a big 55 foot catamaran. There are plenty of beds, two little toilets, a kitchen, and enough deck space for a dance floor (which we take advantage of). Jean Pierre is an interesting man. Loud as anything i’ve ever heard, ready to blow his top for the slightest of infractions. For example, ‘don’t touch the fridge’, ‘don’t sit on that’, ‘don’t look at that’, ‘cease to exist’, and ‘this is the last time i’m doing this.’ All in Spanish or french or maybe both, I don’t know. But other times he is very amiable. We chat about motorbike and his boat. I steer the boat for a couple of hours to my glee.
I get a tattoo.
Of a anchor. On my shoulder.
Its not “real,” but am told it will last about 3 months. Its some kind of extra strong ink.
Everyone else gets a tattoo.
We stop at a different island each night. One night we have a bon fire on the beach.
The second last day we sail for 12 hours. A couple of people get sea sick. I’m good though. That night we drink the rest of our booze. I try not to think about the morning because our captain tells us that this is where we’re stopping. Sapzurro. Just past the border of Panama right in the middle of the Darian.
In the morning a boat arrives to take the rest of the passengers to Capurgana around the next bay. They all get another boat to Turbo.
A couple of hours later another boat comes to pick me and my motorbike up. The captain says its very easy to get to Turbo. All I have to do is put the bike on a cargo boat. and take on of the regular speed boats to Turbo where I will wait for my bike. Easier said then done. I am almost out of cash. By the time i get to Capurgana I have 40 dollars. My hostel is ten dollars a night. There are no ATM’s and no way to take out cash. I spend two days stressing out thinking about being stranded in a tiny little coastal town in Columbia,probably right on the regular drug running route. Yipee. My second day in Capurgana I only eat two buns to save what little money i have left. I use my water purification tabs so i can drink tap water.
I eventually strike a deal with several parties to get my bike on a cargo boat and to take a speed boat. I will pay everything in Turbo where there is an ATM. I am charged way to much because i’m a gringo and have nothing to bargain with. I feel horrible. I hate Columbia, sail boats, Frenchman named Jean Pierre, Sappzurro, and Capurgana.
When I arrive in Turbo and Take out money a small weight is lifted off my chest. I pay the speed boat and go looking for a hotel where my motorbike will be safe. A cabbie and myself drive around for a long while trying to find a hotel. I eventually find the perfect place. My room costs 3.50 per night. I’m very proud of myself.
The captain of the cargo boat told me he would arrive at 6pm. I begin waiting at 4 by the pier. I have a beer. I buy a beer for another guy that sat down with me looking to chat. He appears to be very poor, but he is very kind and seems content with things.
My bike arrives at 5:30. I am so relieved that things eventually work out. I pay the captain his asking price. Way to much. He looks smug. I curse his boat and hope it sinks.
My opinion of Columbia has now changed. In fact its done a 180. The people here in Turbo have got to be the kindest most helpful I’ve ever met. I’ve been here now for a night and most of two days. People will stop you on the street all the time. And they don’t want anything from you or to sell you something. They want to know where I’m from. Where I’m going. Where I’ve been. What I think of Columbia. They are very proud of their country, and I think they have every right. Columbia is no longer run by guerrillas and drug lords. They still exist. But, things have changed.
For example, earlier today I went to the customs to get my bike registered and was guided into a nice air conditioned room. The agent was very efficient but, their computer system was temporarily down. I was offered coffee while I waited. Good Columbian coffee. In every other country I’ve been customs are hot, disorganized, and the people overworked and unhappy.
I also had to change my oil and get my rack on my bike re-welded today. Both excellent experience and so “special” prices.
So I’m really looking forward to seeing the rest of Columbia. Although, most of it is going to be from the seat of my bike. I have to be in Peru for the 19′th to meet my parents. So tomorrow morning I’m hitting the road. I foresee many long days on the road ahead. But I’m looking forward to it. My bike is as good as ever. And I want to eat up some km’s.

Until next time.

Kent

Photo Uploads are not working so hot right now. All will be on facebook.

SECOND LEG COMPLETED 9556 km, The road to Panama City

Kenton — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 19:54:03 +0000

Three months and almost 10000 kilometers. Wow. I can’t put it in words how truly awed I am by the distance that I’ve covered. In the three years that I owned by last motorcycle I put on about the same distance that I’ve done in three months. Thank you to all the donors who have already contributed and to all those who have pledged to donate per kilometer. Our friend Dan is a real inspiration to me and I know that he and his team at Global Peace Network will be able to make a big difference to many people thanks to everyone’s support.

Santa Teresa to Panama City, in two days…

Saturday morning, Jesse and I woke up bright and early, 530am, so he could get on a bus back to Liberia. That poor scooter was dead or close to it. Maybe a blown head gasket, it wasn’t going anywhere soon. Thankfully there was a road, mostly paved, to the ferry from Santa Teressa. To bad we didn’t know about it before we decided to take the road from hell. Anyways, Jesse got on his shuttle and I decided to sleep in a bit and meet him at the ferry. Unfortunately, the shuttle did not take quite as long as he thought so we ended up on different boats. But I saw him on the other side and we said our farewells. Looking back at the week, it was a little rough. The mishaps are still a little raw and fresh in our minds, but I know its something that we will both look back on fondly. Maybe in a few months…or years.
Anyways, I got off the boat at around 12:30 thinking that would leave me plenty of time to make it to the border. Besides I would be taking the Pan-American Highway, paved the whole way. So I got on the highway and was on may way towards San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica.
In Mexico I learned that big cities are to be avoided at all costs because they are virtually impossible to navigate through without GPS or an act of god. But, maybe Costa Rica would be different, I thought. They have more signs here, they kinda look like the ones back home, and generally seem to be right. I would try my best.
Driving into San Jose the traffic steadily got more and more congested. No big problem. At this point I am an old hand at driving through busy traffic. Weaving, passing, and revving my engine at people to get out of the way (my horn fell of somewhere in Mexico, but I actually like doing this more, for the obvious cliche reasons). The road was divided and it was very clear that I was still on the Pan-American. But not for long. Good ol Central American logic. Put a sign up saying to go one way, but actually you need to go the exact opposite way. There was a sign that even said Frontera de Panama 380km and I thought wow, maybe Costa Rica has got the sign thing down. The arrow said go straight and straight I went. Right onto Highway 27 going out of the city and in the exact opposite direction I wanted to go… bah
So back I went to the original sign and found somebody to ask on a motorbike. He drove in front of me for a bit to help me find the road. He said ‘Directo’ meaning straight on through, direct route, no turns, easy to do. Maybe for a Costa Rica’n. This road proceeded to wind though many neighborhoods turning into a single lane, then a one way, then a divided highway, then back to a single lane. All the while I have no idea if this is still the Pan-American. But yes it was. Once out of the city there was another familiar green sign with a big number 2 on it. Yipee.
I just had one more obstacle. The highway split just outside of another big town. The sign said both way were the number two. I took the bigger, more friendly looking route right through the city. Nope. Tons of traffic, blistering heat, too many people, and once you get through the city the road simply ends. Some number 2. So I went all the way back through town, blistering heat, tons of traffic, way to many people, and took the other route. Finally. Beautiful Highway.
And beautiful it was.
I passed through one of the highest passes I’ve ever been on. Rivaling, if not surpassing the height of the roads in Guatemala. The road was pristine. Twisting up a mountain for an ascent that took almost an hour and then working its way across the peaks and valleys of the high mountain pass. Awesome fun. I caught up to a Subaru that was going just a bit slower than my pace, so I decided to follow him as it is difficult to pass a fast moving vehicle on the tight roads. The guy in the Subaru picked the pace right up though and we raced through the twisties passing all the old cars that have significant trouble going through these roads. We eventually caught up to a big line of traffic stuck behind a couple of slow moving semi’s so I gave him a thumbs up and easily got passed the rows of cars using the shoulders and center of the road.
I originally wanted to get right down to the border of Panama on this day, but by five o’clock I had only mad it about half way through Costa Rica. And there was a nice little town at the bottom of the mountain pass.
I pulled into the central plaza and spotted two beautiful girls, clearly tourists, who might know of a good place to stay. The two girls, from France, told me zat I should go to ze same place zey ver at, a hotel overlooking the plaza. The price was right and I ended up getting a room right next to them. They asked me if I wanted to go for a drink with them and off we went. I knew I had a long day ahead of me tommorrow, but the company was excellent and the beer cheap.
I woke up early, with a good hangover, the kind that only a good ride can get rid of. Packed my bike and got on the road. I needed to get to Panama city today. My friends from Nicaragua had found a boat that could take my motorbike and I needed to get there to reserve my spot. I was looking at about 700kms and a border crossing. It would be a long day.
The guy at the front desk of my hotel spoke really good English and was a fellow motorcycle enthusiast. He told me the fastest way to get to the border, which was not the Pan-American, and about a really great road for motorcycling which would take me to the main highway.
This, I think was the best road I’ve ever seen (up to this point). It climbed up through a beautiful green and mountainous valley and was hairpin turns, switchbacks, sweeping rights and lefts, fast sections, and all on brand new pavement. It lasted for about an hour and by the time I got to the highway, I had easily forgotten about my hangover.
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Once I got into Panama, the Pan-American basically turns into a big freeway. It took me about five and a half hours to get to Panama City and it was dark when I arrived. I knew this was not a very good idea to be riding in one of the biggest and most dangerous cities at night, but I really wanted to get to the hostel where my friends would be.
Once closer to the city the traffic became incredible. I road on the shoulder for about an hour, passing the slow moving traffic. I spotted a Hotel called the Backpackers Inn and thought maybe it would be best to grab a room and head into the city in the morning. I walked into the reception where they told me the price was 25 dollars. Now I know to you folks in Canada and US might think this a bargain, but this was a bit ridicules for Panama, one of the cheapest Central American Countries. Some backpackers inn. So I kept going.
I formulated my plan. I have no idea where the hostel is. I know the name is “Luna’s Castle.” I decided to go to a central location, not quite downtown, and ask a cabbie to take me there for the regular fare. I of course would be following on my motorcycle. So I found my cabbie, he knew where it was, and I was there in about 5 minutes. What good luck, my instincts were right.
However, when I got to the hostel reception, they told me that there were no beds left, and not a single place available for me to sleep. Not good. They said there was nothing else close and that my best chance would be to go downtown and find something. Not what I wanted to hear.
I got back on the bike. Somehow found I road going downtown and started searching. Eventually I found a real shady looking 24 hour hotel, not really the most appealing place. I think it was called Edens paradise or something really sleazy. But, they had a good secure parking lot with video cameras and a big steel gate. My room was 25 dollars. Should have stayed at the Backpacker’s Inn…
The next morning I got back to the hostel and was able to score a room. I was also able to book the same boat as my friends. Both me and my motorcycle should be on a boat by tomorrow afternoon for the voyage through the San Blas islands and on route to Columbia.

Unfortunately, I didn’t take any pictures in the last two days, So I hope my descriptions have been good enough. I was pretty stressed out about making it to Panama City to get this boat. But I’ll be sure to take lots on my boat voyage to Columbia. The trip is going to be five days, but it could take longer if the seas are rough.

Kent

A couple weeks in Nicaragua, Costa Rica And The Road From Hell

Kenton — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 18:19:01 +0000

Well I haven’t posted in a few weeks, but it feels like a few days for me. Time has been flying by for me. I will try to pick up where I left off.
San Juan Del Sur was an excellent town and I made many good friends there. Once the wind died down I pretty much spent every day going to the beach surfing and relaxing. Maderas beach is just north of the town is very popular for surfers so it is really busy, but the waves are very consistent. After several days of the same thing though we were all looking for a bit of a change.
Nigel, one of the many travelers I met, had just bought a piece of property about an hour north of San Juan. So one day seven of us decided to rent a car and go see the property and check out some of the local beaches and surf spots. We were gonna rent a car off an Irish guy who lived down here, but he was running a bit late getting back into town so we decided to rent a Toyota four runner off somebody else that Nigel knew of. By 11 o’clock we finally got on the road. And by 11:30 we had broken down along the highway. Nobody seemed really worried though, and we had music and beers to pass the time. After about an hour of waiting we finally decided to flag down a bus and catch a ride back into San Juan.
When we got back into town we were all a little bummed out, but the Irish guy, John, who we were originally going to rent off of called up Nigel and offered us all a free ride to Maderas. Perfect. The day was not lost after all. We got to surf right until sunset and then piled back into the truck for a ride back into town. Before we got back, John, stopped the truck in front of a local bar and asked if we wanted a quick one. Seven bottles of rum later, we got back into the truck. I guess that’s what the Irish mean when they say a quick one. The day was a good one and once again everything worked out.
Most travelers I’ve talked to will tell you similar stories of how things just work out when your on the road. There are always times when things look a little bit hopeless, but things do seem to have a way of working themselves out.

Fast forward to Costa Rica

I’ve met Jesse in Liberia, we get to Playa Coco the next day, he rents a scooter the day after that, and we get on the road.
I’ve been really impressed with the roads in Central America, the pavement is always really nice, and driving has been fairly simple. I explained my plan to Jesse to follow the coastal road along the peninsula here in Costa Rica and see all the wonderful beaches along the way. The plan on paper looked really good but once we hit the coast the road really started to deteriorate. The first day on the road we rode about 150 kilometers, but it took about 4 hours. We had to cross three rivers and follow an incredibly dusty dirt road. We made it to Nasara and found a really cool surf hostel where we were able to rest up and relax after a hard days riding. Two nights and we were back on the road again.
We were both hoping that the worst of the riding was now over. Initially it looked like our hopes might be answered. The gravel road turned into a paved road and then a bit of gravel and then another paved road but we eventually found ourselves back on some of the roughest roads I’ve ever ridden. And Jesse’s poor scooter was not liking it at all.
We had to turn back a couple of times because the rivers were too deep to cross. We ended up backtracking and found ourselves on a single lane dirt road in the very back country of Costa Rica. We were riding between farmers fields where there were cattle and orchards. The scenery was really spectacular, but we both were too focused on getting out of this mess to really appreciate it.
Our goal for the day was to make it to Santa Teresa and Mal Pais. I think we travelled about 200km but it took us about 8 hours. All in all, I had a spill, craked a couple welds on my rack, Jesse had a spill (no major damage), but right before Santa Teresa the scooter started acting up. It wouldn’t get above 50 and was starting to sputter. Now the scooter is sitting in front of our hostel and will barely start and won’t move much. Its sounding terrible.
Yesterday we took apart the carb and cleaned it all up and cleaned up the air filter. But we are really in a bind. Jesse needs to make it back up to Liberia In a couple of days to fly back to Calgary and the scooter needs to be returned. Right now our options don’t look very good. I’m hoping that things will work out for us.
Once Jesse leaves I’ll be on the road to Panama City to get either a flight or a boat to Columbia.

Well thats all for now.

Kent

Well The scooter is going to be staying here in Santa Teresa, RIP.

Riding through El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua

Kenton — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 04:42:11 +0000

After not having been on the road much since arriving in Antigua, I had to get back into the swing of long days in the saddle. I was on my way to El Salvador to meet another motorcyclist. We made contact through www.advrider.com which has been a great resource for me. Igor and I met at San Blas beach at the Backpackers Inn which was a beautiful little resort right on the beach. I was tempted to suggest we stay a night here before getting back on the road, but Igor mentioned that he had heard of a possible way to skip the tedious border crossings at Honduras. Some guys about a week before us had made the crossing by boat from El Salvador to Nicaragua at a town called La Union. We figured we’d try and follow their tracks.
Just before the sun was going down we arrived in La Union. Found a hotel, a Comfort Inn, which was very comfortable, and made plans to head down to the docks in the morning to try and find a boat.
The next morning we made it down to the docks and found a number launchas that looks sort of capable of taking a couple of motorcycles across 20 km of ocean. We managed to find the same lady that took the other two across the previous week, but she was firm on the price of 300 dollars for the crossing. Both Igor and I thought that this price was a little ridicules and decided that we’d go for the land crossing.
I’ve read some real horror stories about the border crossings at Honduras. Waits of up to seven hours, constant confusion, and endless corrupt officials looking to extract as much money as they can.
We arrived at the El Salvador exit around 9 AM and were immediately jumped on by about ten money changers waving their fistfuls of papers at us. I politely told them to hang on a minute as I wanted to process my paper work first. A second time, third, and fourth. These guys don’t give up. I then proceeded to lose my cool which kept them at bay for another five minutes. And this was just on the fringe of Honduras. I was not looking forward to crossing the next 300 meters.
Igor and I decided that it would be best to have one person deal with the paper work and the other watch the bikes and gear. I watched the bike for the next 3 hours. And we didn’t fare too badly I suppose. We payed the official fee, about 40 dollars each and five bucks for our helper, the price he said he would take, and managed to avoid a bogus 22 dollar charge each that was written in our passports and called a “road tax.” Our helper, after seeing that we likely wouldn’t be paying this, ran over to his buddy and a nearby cop who then attempted to persuade us of the need to pay this fee. Igor held firm though and we didn’t pay a thing, got on our bikes, gassed up, and got on the road.
We crossed Honduras in about 2 hours and we only stopped once by the police who thankfully just looked at our documents and waved us through. Both Igor and I were prepared for the corrupt police officers that we thought we would encounter, but I guess they had the day off thankfully.
Exiting Honduras was another ordeal. I would be processing our paper work this time. I didn’t want a helper and said no too several who offered and kept saying no until one who plainly could tell I was getting frustrated just said come on this way and the others backed off. He said he only wanted a couple bucks which was fine especially since I was no longer being hassled. After finally getting the paper work in order, I got back to my bike, found that my gloves had been stolen, cursed this place, and we were on our way to Nicaragua.
The Nicaragua border was much better. There were significantly less people hassling us. Although one kid kept bugging me. He wanted some money to watch our bikes, but since there were two of us we had no need. He didn’t get the clue. “amigo,amigo, amigo (pointing to his eyes then back to the bikes) amigo, amigo.” After a frustrating day I really wanted him to cool it so I knelt down looked him right the eyes, calmly put my finger in front of my lips, “SHHHHHHHHHH.” He was immediately quiet, like nobody had ever done this before. Thank God.
About an hour later we were on our way, the paper work having been processed quickly and easily. What a relief.
Nicaragua was gorgeous, the land along the highway was incredibly lush and green, Full of bustling farms and activity. Especially in contrast to the relatively quiet and dry landscape of Honduras, the people hear seemed busy. I saw three beautiful girls walking through the grass off to the side of the road and was compelled to wave to them. When I looked back all three of them had turned around and were waving to me as if I had addressed each one of them individually. This cheered me up significantly.
The frustration of the day now forgotten with a wave, I was really looking forward to out arrival in Leon and was pleasantly surprised. The city was very beautiful and clean. It also has the largest cathedral in Central America. It took over a hundred years to build, and what a sight it was. We found a good hotel and had a great dinner of local cuisine.
The next day we went to Granada, another beautiful town ridge on Laco Nicaragua. We made plans the next day to head up to El Rama. From Granada it was a four hour ride through beautiful landscape and plenty of windy roads to play on. Our plan was to catch a river boat from Rama to Bluefields. There was one leaving right as we were arriving so we bought tickets and found parking for our bikes in a building right by the docks. I was a little bit sketched out by our parking location because although the bikes would be locked up at night the doors would be open to the general public during the day. We were also being rushed along because we were holding up the departure of our boat. In my haste I got everything packed in my cases and forgot to pack my leather jacket. Not wanting to go through the headache of packing it all again I hastily the jacket on the seat and threw my motorcycle cover on, locked my bike and got to the boat. This would be a constant source of worry over the next day, as I really didn’t want to have my jacket stolen.
The boat ride was pretty exciting because this really was the boonies. The river was lined with banana and mango farms and all kinds of cool ramshackle huts. Although it was a bit uncomfortable sitting in a boat crammed with people on rough water for two hours it wasn’t that bad.
Bluefields was a major change from anything I had seen so far. It was a true Caribbean town. Lots of life, noisy, dirty, and disorganized. There were characters of all kinds roaming the streets. Igor and I found a hotel for the evening and a decent meal. We made plans to get to the airport the next morning to catch a plane to the Corn Islands. However, that nights it poured all night and when we woke up it was still miserable. A quick look at the forecast told us that the weather would not be any better on the islands. It wouldn’t be worth the expense and being stuck on an island if the weather wasn’t gonna be sunny and warm. We took a boat back to Rama the next day and got back on the road. Myself heading to the Pacific coast and Igor to Granada for another night and then to Costa Rica.
We definitely made a good choice coming back when we did. Right now the winds are gusting at like 50mph on the pacific coast and I’m told its pretty much the same throughout Nicaragua right now. I’m staying at a wikid little hostel in San Juan Del Sur right on the beach. Everybody has been pretty much trapped in doors all day because of the wind. Its supposed to die down later in the week to a mild to medium offshore breeze. And with a great swell forecast for later in the week it should make for some good surfing.

Until next time,

Kent

Just want to thank Igor For sharing a few of his photos with me.

A Guatemalan Christmas, New Years, and On the Road Again

Kenton — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 20:51:18 +0000

A warm coffee in hand, the remnants of a delicious breakfast bagel sitting beside me, and the remnants of this mornings hang over lessened, but still lingering. Happy New Year. My favorite band, Dire Straits, the song “Romeo and Juliet,” playing in the background and when the tension in my fingers ease I can’t help but feel blessed to be here. The Spanish I hear from the other patrons is no longer foreign to me and I pick out words and phrases that have become familiar to me over the last 5 weeks. But alas, my love affair with my surroundings must end in a couple days. Once more into the unknown.
A new cafe, a new cup of coffee, decidedly more delicious than the last, a small Mayan girl wandering under and around the tables, ever persistent, selling her hand made trinkets, and the weight of a few Christmas stories teetering on the brink of existence in my mind.
The big day for Christmas here is December 24th. Although, everyday leading up to this day has had it fair share of fireworks and fiestas, the 24th still takes the cake. The family I live with kindly invited myself and my housemate (James) to join them in their Christmas celebrations and traditions. We begin the evening with a light snack of tomales and bread at 7pm. The tomales are served on a big tropical leaf of some kind and taste kind of like a savory custard. Delicious. James and I sip wine and chat with Jose and Karla around the table for a while. We eventually make our way to the family room where the Christmas tree casts its glow across the room and of course the ever-tempting presents beneath.
The youngest, is beside herself with excitement and is happily chatting away to me in some dialect of Spanish that I don’t think I will ever understand, this a trait belonging to all young ones. I respond with the occasional “si” or nod of the head at the right moments which keeps her lips going in an endless stream of sound. Once she tires of her rather dull and quiet company she takes to doing laps of the house; dancing, singing, and bugging her older siblings when the chance presents itself. Her excitement is contagious and I’m suddenly impatient to get to the presents.
At 11 pm, we are reminded that its time for presents by the kids and Jose, my Spanish teacher, confirms their wishes with a warm smile and a clap of the hands. I feel a bit like an intruder, but I’ve come prepared. Armed with a board game for the family, Bancopoly (the Guatemalan version of Monopoly), I thoroughly enjoy the next half and hour of presents being exchanged and ripped open. As we’re sitting around the tree up to our ankles in wrapping paper the sound of fireworks and firecrackers becomes more and more persistent.
By 11:40, its absolute bedlam. I stand up, open the door, and am greeted with a heavy tinge of sulpher in the air and rivers of smoke flowing down the roads. The sound is deafening. 40000 people lighting off firecrackers, fireworks, and anything else that makes noise at the same time. I begin to wander the streets, presents forgotten. Everybody is on their door step, explosives in hand. Dogs are barking and running around chasing the lights and explosions. Little kids run to the edge of the sidewalk, place their pack of noise makers on the edge of the curb, pull out a lighter, and then run like hell. They have about 2 seconds before a hundred small explosions go off in a 10 foot radius. This quickly becomes my favorite one as the effect is truly impressive when tens of these are going of at the same time along the same street.
I eventually wander back to my house, where the family is happily lighting off firecrackers with the rest of the country. After another 15 minutes, the noise begins to subside and we make our way into the house for a midnight feast of ham potatoes, gravy, vegies, all the good stuff.
Christmas day involves a good sleep in and some light food as the food from the previous night is still sitting heavy in our bellies. It has been a great Christmas, one I’ll remember for a long time.
I’ll give you all one guess what happens on New Year. Yup more fireworks. I spend my new years at my favorite cafe, ‘Cafe no se,’ when translated means ‘cafe I don’t know.’ This place has one of the coolest atmospheres I’ve ever experienced. Everybody knows one another, or wants to. The music is provided by a funky trio who play everything from Sublime to Spanish Flamenco. During a break, I chat with one of the guitarists and I’m invited to jam out a couple of songs with them. I play the 2 songs I know the best. House of the Rising Son and Last Dance with Mary Jane. Its been a while since I’ve played guitar, but its a lot of fun. While I sing one of the lyrics to House of the Rising Sun a lady in the corner stands up gives me the rock on sign and sings a couple of verses with we.
All liquor laws and bar regulations are void tonight so I come home late or early, don’t know which. Hope everyone has had a good new years too.
I’m off to El Salvador on Sunday, then Honduras and Nicaragua. I’ll keep my camera flashing.
Adios

Kent

johns — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 07:51:58 +0000

Merry Christmas everyone!

I’ve been in Tanzania again since December 2nd overseeing the construction of the children’s home and clinic. So far we’ve experienced some delays because the men we hired from the village were slacking off. Things should move forward now that we’ve hired a construction company to finish the job. Here are some pictures of the site. Enjoy!

Greetings from Antigua, Tikal and the Classic Christmas Remake

Kenton — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 22:11:50 +0000

Antigua has been and continues to be a great place to live. My Spanish is getting to the point where I can carry on a conversation using past, present, and future tenses. When all else fails, Spanglish generally works too. But at the very least I should have enough knowledge to get through the borders and ship my bike across the Darian Gap. I have not done too many touristy things since being here aside from visiting some churches and seeing the sites of the town so I thought is was time for a bit of adventure.
My housemate (James) and I decided we would do a weekend trip the the Mayan ruins of Tikal. On Friday evening we were picked up (an hour late) at our house in Antigua by a little shuttle. The driver clearly had some trouble finding us. After an hour of waiting I was beginning to lose hope that our shuttle to Guatemala would arrive at all. Thankfully I looked way down the road and saw a man beside a shuttle waving his arms in the air at nothing in particular whilst yelling something to the likes of ” KEETON, KEETON!.” Yup that’s me (My name seems to be very difficult for Spanish speakers. I’ve had chenton, keto, chento, kante etc. Even when I pronounce it slowly and phonetically ken - ton, no help). James and I ran over, hopped on the bus and were finally on our way to Guatemala where we would transfer onto a tour bus for an nine hour ride over night to the town of Flores. Smooth sailing from here on out. Hopefully.
I was a little worried about our jumpy looking shuttle driver though. His exuberant use the the horn during the drive though Antigua was just one of the indicators. I was right. The moment we got to the well paved highway it was petal to the metal. We blasted past cars. Houses, people, motorbikes, gas stations; all were blazing by. The poor van had seen this all before however. From the rattle of the worn out doors and the never-ending bouncing of the suspension I could tell this was nothing new. Wait… gas station. That must have been the last one for a while because the driver slammed on the brakes at attempted to pull a uey right into oncoming traffic. No dice. I guess the steering had been abused too. Our driver managed to park right in the middle of oncoming traffic blocking two lanes. As cars screeched to a halt and the horns started blaring and my life flashed before my eyes. Our driver, seemingly oblivious to his passengers duress and the anger of other motorists, proceeded to complete a 3 point turn. Tires squealing the whole way, we made it back to the gas station. Apparently it was also necessary to park within an inch of a brand new looking car so the hose would reach the tank.
Gas in the tank and we got back on the road. The ride continued to be exciting the whole way to the bus depot. But we eventually made it. Our driver told us he would be there to pick us up upon our return to Guatemala on Monday. Yipee!
With the first stage of our journey over I had the nine hour tour bus to Flores and then another two hours on a shuttle from Flores to Tikal. At around 9am the following day we had arrived in Tikal, got a hotel in the park, booked a guide, and eaten breakfast.
Our guide was really great. He spoke half decent English (which we learned he had picked up during a stint working in Texas), had a whole folder full of pictures to help explain things, and a super intense attitude. We learned about the varying stages of restoration the park had undergone, the practices and traditions of the Mayan people, and even got a lesson in social control techniques used by the oppressors within society. We spent about 5 hours with our guide who, in that time, took us to all the major sights and temples to climb in the park. After that, James and I were on our own. Over the next few hours and next day we explored the rest of the park. I took a whole bunch of photos and will have them posted on face book if you’d like to see more.
Tikal was awesome and I ‘m really glad to have gone. Traveling by bus wasn’t so bad either. It would have been difficult to do a weekend trip on my motorcycle. And so here I am, in Antigua and amazed that Christmas is in like 2 days!
“Feliz Navidad.” I used to think that “we wish you a merry Christmas” was the most annoying god awful song to ever grace the airways. The never ending repetition of six words to a tune a two year old could get bored with. Nope. I was wrong. The Spanish have created a song that relies entirely on the repetition of only two words. “Feliz Navidad.” Not does this song lack creativity of any kind whatsoever, everybody and their uncle has their own not so unique remake of it. Each remake worse than the previous one.
How do I know this? The radio station that the kids in the house listen to ensures that a version of this song is played every ten minutes. Minimum.

So I will refrain from wishing you all a merry Christmas or a feliz navidad and instead stick to the all encompassing phrase of:

Have a good one!

Kent

Very quick Update

Kenton — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 23:21:34 +0000

Well I’m still hanging out in Antigua and learning lots of Spanish. I’m planning on heading up to Tikal this weekend which is a massive ancient Mayan ruin. So for now I can promise that next weeks update is sure to be a good one. I hope all is well with everyone and thanks for all the support!!