Africa Hot

Andy, the Welsh guy I have been hangin’ with, and I rolled out of the hostel shortly after 8 this morning. Too cheap to pay the 28 bucks for a tour of a local volcano we set out on the motorcycle to see if we could find the base of Cerro Negro, the youngest volcano in Central America. After a dozen u turns and asking equally as many locals we finally found the dirt road that would lead us to our climb; supposedly only about an hour in duration from the parking area. The road became increasingly sandy and after about twenty minutes the driving conditions severely exceeded my off road prowess. When the front wheel finally dug in and the bike fell in super slow motion to the ground, it was pretty apparent that our strategy for approaching the volcano needed to be modified.

I parked the bike on the side of the road, stepped off, took the key, and started walking. Despite the fact that only a few minutes prior we passed a sign that read “Cerro Negro 13.3 km” neither of us even mentioned the second, less desirable option of turning back. After nearly an hour and a half of walking we finally scored a ride in a pickup. Unfortunately the guy happened to be turning at the next intersection and dropped us less than five minutes down the road. After another 1.5 miles we finally arrived at the entrance station equipped with a small fridge holding a couple of cold soft drinks and an extremely bored attendant who talked at us for 20 or more minutes even though, based on our lack of response, it had to be obvious that we didn’t have the slightest clue what he was blabbing about.

After dissipating some heat in the shade we stepped back out into the Africa hot landscape and headed for the black cinder cone of Cerro Negro. Although the place is a popular tour destination, we had the place to ourselves; thank God, because we needed some respite from our overly narrative ranger. Within the core hot steamy sulfur gases escaped from beneath their blanket of volcanic rocks. White, yellow, and orange deposits painted the black landscape otherwise devoid of color.

45 minutes later we were running down the hot (from the sun, not lava) cone. We briefly met a French couple on their way in, got verbally bombarded by our new friend, and set to walking back to the bike on a ridiculously hot road. After a couple hours of sweltering walking, one wrong turn, and car surfing the French couples’ SUV we were back at the bike.

All this for only five bucks at the entrance. Most people who take the tour only get an hour walk to the summit, not a 25 kilometer, routefinding adventure through hellishly hot black sand roads. As I sip from my fourth bottle of water I wonder what those folks are paying for J…

Avoiding the Lonlies in Leon

I have been trying to avoid talking about feeling lonely in this magnificent place. It seems selfish to be feeling sorry for yourself in the midst of such a gift. I'm not sure if selfish is the right word, but in some ways I really do begin to have feelings of guilt when I am not having as much fun as I believe I should be. Then again, as I reflect on it, I think I commonly experience a sense of guilt around my emotions.

Over the past week or so loneliness has crept into my heart like frigid mountain air penetrating the depths of a mountaineers body, slowly stealing his life. The pain of internal turmoil and suffering is one that I have always struggled to bear. Apparently, at least in my case, the ability to push through pain and suffering in the mountains is not directly transferable to th human psyche. So here I am, traveling day to day, emotions swaying like a ship without power in a tropical storm. But this, I think, is the true challenge of this adventure. Although I regularly have doubts, i know that I am equipped with the skills and abilities to ride a motorcycle around the Americas. There is a bigger question however; "Do I possess the skills to be alone with myself?" I'm not sure how long I will be on the road (I'll be back by the end of April, don't worry). I think I will know the answer when I can discern the difference between giving up and truly deciding that I have reached the end of my journey.

In the meantime I have found a new Welsh friend to help me avoid the lonlies. Andy and I originally met in Copan Honduras and spent all of our time together hanging out. Although we had different travel plans our routes came together again in Leon Nicaragua, my current location. We had a great day at the beach today. Tomorrow we're going to try to find a local volcano on the bike to avoid paying the exorbitant tour fees.

Gotta go to dinner.

I'm still excited for the new learnings ahead...

Thanks for listening,

Jay

Who need a truck when you've got a honda 200

Mi moto mi moto mi moto con mio

Mi moto mi moto mi moto con tigo

All you need is a little red Honda 200 with a kick start and a one cylinder heart

This little beast will transport one man at the very least

Sips the gas but doesn’t go very fast so stay in town where the wind won’t blow ya around

Now if you want to do it up right add some reflective stripes and some flashing lights and you’ll be cruising in style through the night.

Most people don’t have these… just a set of keys to ride on those old worn baldies

Just between you and me these folks drive just a little crazy unless baby Hank is straddling the tank

So let’s get into it shall we…just what can you fit on a sub 250?

One old man with a machete in hand

One kid, texting of course, to his buddy across town who is still riding his horse

Enough firewood for two weeks of tortillas or a 55 gallon drum strapped not so securely behind your bum

Your fine lady in a long dress riding sidesaddle while your honkin’ the horn so the dogs skidaddle

Not one, not two, but three 5 gallon water jugs or two amigos and one squished perro

A cooler that belongs on a sportfish boat or 6, no less, 18 gallon Rubbermaid totes

Need to go to church, maybe we’ll pile on the whole family, mom, dad, son, daughter, and don’t forget the newborn baby...

En route to Nicaragua

Tomorrow I depart Copan Ruinas headed for the Nicaraguan border at Los Manos.

Copan Ruinas- via. CA11 to Santa Barbara - CA 20 - Siguatepeque- CA5 - Tegucigalpa - CA6 - Danli - Los Manos

I'm going to try to get to Danli tomorrow and cross into Nico the next day.

Copan Honduras

This is me next to a giant Ceiba tree. this tree was very sacred to the Mayan culture. The roots of the tree stretched into the underworld while the canopr touched the realm of the gods thereby joining the two.

Copan Honduras

Today I visited another Mayan ruin site in Copan Honduras. Unlike the massive scale of Tikal this site is famous for its intricate relief carvings depicting various rulers and important dates.

The Secret Passage

After roaming around Tikal for a couple hours with another tourist, I decide that I really needed a guide if the experience was going to have any value. So when I came across a group of four people and their private guide I asked if I could join. I gave the guide about ten bucks (a much better deal then they got) and joined the group for the rest of the day. Near the end of the tour we ran across one of the other employees at the sight who was obviously looking to make some extra green. He asked our guide if we wanted to see a secret new excavation. Of course these things don't come without cost, ten bucks to be exact, to which I promptly said that I was not interested. The other two couples were intrigued, so we all decided to go for a walk on a skinny path to the supposed "secret spot" where a pristine mask could be seen. Upon arriving at the sight, which was in fact a newer archaeological dig, the guide told me that I could have a look at no charge as long as I kept my mouth shut. So when the cover came off and the older couples with me showed hesitation at climbing into the army ant infested hole I jumped right in. In the small passage was a magnificent mask with a great deal of red paint still on it.

Tikal

Here are som images of the magnificent temples of Tikal. Some of these temples soar 75 meters above the ground, penetrating the forest canopy into the world of the Gods. At one time these temples and structures were all covered in a stucco like material and painted. Imagine what some of these structures must have looked like with smooth vibrant red walls.

Tikal on a Foggy Morning

Riding to Tikal

En route to Tikal from Semuc Champey I neglected to notice the little boat indicating a ferry on the map

Semuc Champey

Tonight I am in Tikal, well actually a small town called El Remate just south. Here are some photos of the place I spent the last two days. What you see is a giant limestone bridge. The river actually enters a cave and flows beneath these limestone formations. I dove into the first pool and swam and jumped my way doen to the final pool in the beautiful turquise waters.

Guatemala redefines the commonly known concept of a highway. Over the last two days I have driven well over 100 miles on gravel (actually rocks) highways. Imagine looking at a US highway map and just about every highway marked other than the interstate is one lane dirt with teeth chattering rocks driven into it. 30 mph average speed. Thank god for suspension!
Thanks for looking
Love
Jay

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