We had a relatively uneventful border crossing. The total cost to get us and the bikes into the country was around $32 each. Honduras has made great strides in eliminating corruption at the border crossings. All the fees were listed in plain site. Of the total there was a $20 fee for the use of public highways. Total time to leave Guatemala and cross into Honduras was one hour and forty five minutes. Jeff thought that it must be some kind of record. The timely crossing was a godsend because we still had to ride 12 kilometers more on the twisting, unpaved road to beat nightfall. It wasn't long before we rolled into the cobble stone streets of Copan to begin our hotel search. There were many an hombre trying to sell us a room and we meandered in and out of hotels trying to find one to our liking. The prices were cheap but we hadn't found anything too hot when three brothers, who all shared a motorcycle amongst themselves, convinced us to go up the hill to see their family's hotel San Jose. Jeff went and decided it was all right for the price and it was good to see their enthusiasm as they looked over our bikes. It was dark by the time we rolled our bikes into their enclosed parking area. It wasn't the greatest room but it cost 80 lempiras (~$5.00). Feeling pretty beat, we decided to eat at our little hotel in their rooftop palapa. After dinner I went down to take what was supposed to be a hot shower but as I was trying to get the hot water, the electricity went out and I decided to bag the shower. Another note on Central American hot showers - you have this little contraption that is a shower head and it has electric wires that usually lead into a crude hole in the concrete wall. The contraption heats the water as it runs through it. Obviously, it can only heat at a certain rate therefore the shower is inevitably very low water pressure. More often than not, these things don't work for love nor money. It is an absolute art form to be able to make the constant fine tuning adjustments (because the water pressure constantly changes) to keep just the right pressure for getting "hot" water. Needless to say, we don't love these showers. Jeff accidentally touched one of the contraptions one time in Antigua while the water was running and got a bit of a shock. He has been leary ever since. Ah well, one of those things. After the electricity went out, we hung out talking with the brothers, drinking the excellent Honduran beer, Salva Vida and Jeff bought a Honduran Cigar for 2 limpiras or 10 cents. He said it was wonderful but knowing how cheap he is I'm sure it was the cost that tasted so good to him. It certainly wasn't the smell.
The next morning we planned to exchange some money at the bank, turn in our laundry and head over to the ruins of Copan. We dropped off our laundry and learned we would have to pay the heartstopping amount of 105 limps (short for lempiras). But what can you do when all your clothes are dirty and smelly? We set off for the 2 kilometer walk to the park. While it wasn't raining, we still hadn't escaped the dreary weather. It was drizzly and gray but still a big improvement over Poptun. We arrived to the park to pay the hefty charge of $10 each. We hadn't eaten breakfast but wanted to catch the underground tunnels under the temples that had just recently been opened to tourists. When we got to the entry gate, we learned that the tunnels were an additional $12 each. That was just over the top and we had already agreed that we should go to the museum which was also an additional charge of $5 each. So, we retreated to the park entry cafe for breakfast and then went back to wander through the ruins. Copan is very different from Tikal. Tikal was huge, thought to have nearly 100,000 inhabitants while Copan, at its height, only reached about 25,000. The temples of Tikal are both immense and numerous. Copan, on the other hand, is small but has retained exquisite detail in it's stelae and glyphs. The relatively small size of the city has allowed archeologists to perform in-depth studies of how the Maya lived. These studies are documented in a facinating guide book available at the entrance (another $4). It truly was a treat to be able to see Tikal in all its immense glory and the then the intricate detail of Copan in comparison. There was also a 1K nature trail that lead off into the nearby forest. Needing a little more exercise, we decided to take it. It was nothing special but still a nice diversion until I heard what sounded like another one those annoying firecrackers. Jeff thought it sounded like gunfire. Sure enough around one of the corners was a security guard with pistol drawn sheepishly smiling at us. We sort of nodded our heads and hightailed it out of there through the strong smell of gunpowder. It certainly added a little spice to what would have been an otherwise ho hum nature trail. No wonder you never see much nature out on these trails, all the security guards use them to let off a little steam. We arrived at the museum which houses many of the original stelae and glyphs and it was really interesting to see them up close. After spending a couple hours in the park, we returned to town for some lunch and to pick up our clean, expensive laundry. We also hoped to find other travellers that might have information on the tropical storm brewing in the Caribbean so we could plan our next destination. We decided to return for happy hour since there weren't many people around during lunch.
When we returned to the same gringo bar that we ate lunch in, we found numerous other travellers and were able to find out that there was tremendous rain and flooding in the Bay Islands off of Honduras' east coast - which was to be our destination for taking our advanced scuba diving course. From what they were saying and what we were able to gleen from the local papers, it was the worst flooding in the area since Hurricane Mitch. We decided that we should head inland and depart the next day for Gracias, in the Western Honduran Highlands to make a vertical assualt on the highest peak in the country (~9,500 ft) in Celaque National Park.
In the morning, we packed up the bikes and said our goodbyes to all the brothers at our hotel. The weather wasn't looking promising with opaque skies of gray. It was raining lightly as we headed out of town through the twisty mountain roads. Not 30 miles from town, we ran up on a big traffic jam. We went by all the cars to the front of the line to find out what was going on. There had been a landslide a couple of hours earlier which deposited a rock the size of a small house onto the road. There was a muddy, clay shoulder on the side of road that people were walking back forth through to see what was going on on the other side of the boulder and to transfer passengers from one bus to another. Jeff went up to investigate whether he could get the bikes through. It looked like a lost cause to me but he returned to inform me that he could do it. We took the boxes off of TGH and with about 50 onlookers, Jeff fired up the engine and rode valiantly up to take on the mud and rocks. A few guys got behind him and pushed to get him through the slop but he was soon back and ready to take Suzi through. On his way back he had cleared away some of the more troubling obstacles so it was easier to get Suzi through. On the other side, people told us they were going to blow up the rock with dynamite in 5 minutes. We were going to stick around but not being confident about they're rock blowing up skills, we decided to get out of the line of fire and keep going. Another 30 miles or so and the rain had stopped. We stopped in the little town of Santa Rosa de Copan for a little side trip and decided to go to a little fish farm that we had read about for lunch. Another 20 miles or so and we pulled into the fish farm, nestled in a beautiful river valley. After enjoying the fish fry, we took off down the road for the final 18ish miles to Gracias. Just a few miles down the road, we passed by a restaurant with a big Honda African Twin motorcycle loaded for the long haul in the parking lot. We did a quick u-ie and pulled in. In the same amount of time, the rider had come outside to see us too. As it turned out, Nat was an English fellow on a fund raising ride from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego for Muscular Dystrophy. His father was a victim to the disease and Nat was riding in his memory. We sat down to chat about his travels thus far and share a few motorcycle stories. He informed us that he had a Touratech gas tank that held 11 gallons! He also had the Touratech aluminum panniers. His bike looked like a small boat to me and for the second time seeing other motos, I felt pretty good about the amount of luggage we had. The three others we have seen were really, really loaded down. Nat told us he thought the packed bike weighed about 800 lbs! Wow. We are about half that, maybe. Well, Nat was on a tight schedule and was planning to be at Tierra del Fuego by year end so he road the 15 miles to Gracias with us and then kept right on going. Nat is recording his trip for posterity at: www.amchallenge.com Check out his site, and if you like what you see maybe a little donation to help the cause would be in order. Nat was proud to inform us that he had raised over 30,000 British Pounds so far. Go, Nat, Go! One other thing that we learned from Nat was that we got totally ripped off at the Guatemalan border. He said that he paid about $5 max. Which means that those stinking tramitadors took us for about $82! I wouldn't mind if the country of Guatemala charged us that amount but to put it directly into the pockets of those bold face liars really hurts. Now what was our mantra, oh yeah, 'Que sera,sera...'
We pulled into the old stone streets of Gracias, a city that was once the seat of the Spanish colonial government in Central America (before it was switched to Antigua, Guatemala). Only a few remnants remain of Gracias' colonial days and it now gains more fame from nearby Celaque National park. We found another cheap hotel for 70 limps and headed out to find information on the trail and camping conditions. Our travel books mentioned that Roni from the restaurant/hotel "Guancascos" was the resident information expert. Roni is a Dutch ex-pat and runs a great restaurant and a pricey, for us, hotel overlooking Gracias. She gave us the scoop on the park and confirmed the weather forecast in the Bay Islands. We went to do a little grocery shopping for our camping trip but weren't able to scare up very much as the big grocery was closed. We bought peanuts, raisins, a bag of buns and 2 cans of sardines. Remember this for later! I had spied an ice cream store and decided that was going to be my dinner but Jeff needed his Pollo (chicken) fix so he got some dinner and then we both got some ice cream and then went off to get our stuff ready for the morning.
We woke early with plans of being to the visitor's center by 7:30 and on the trail soon after. We doubled up on Suzi up the the miserable rocky dirt road. We took Suzi instead of TGH because Jeff was still having problems with his front suspension. Since we didn't have too much food, we planned to buy breakfast at the visitor's center. We got to the park entrance, paid our two day fee of 80 limps and road up to the visitor's center. Uh oh! No-one was there and no breakfast. We set off after munching on some raisins and peanuts and a couple of buns (about half the size of a hot dog bun). The trail became vertical within ten minutes. Our trail map indicated that it should take us 3-4 hours to get to the first camp. As we walked we spied number markers that we figured out were kilometer markers. After an hour and half, we ran in to two other guys that had gone to camp one and were headed back down. They informed us that it would only be another hour or so. That meant we'd be way ahead of schedule so we figured 4 hours total to summit. We arrived at kilometer 10 (camp 1) in two hours and twenty minutes. Jeff ate a can of sardines and I had some peanuts and raisins. We had already eaten about half of our food supply by 10:30 in the morning. It was here where we realized that we were woefully underprepared food wise. We took a 15 minute break and headed into what was the most difficult section of the trail.
Up until camp 1, the trail had been a pine covered, obstruction-free path. As we passed camp 1, the trail headed up through the dense cloud forest. It was very moist in there and we began to have many logs and rocks in our path. It wasn't long before we were climbing vertically using tree roots to get up the steep incline. We were also beginning to feel the effects of altitude as our heart rates skyrocketed. It took us 1.5 hours to climb the 2 (!) kilometers to camp 2. By now, it was about noon. We were already getting tired after the 4 hours we had already hiked. Our guidebook estimated another 2 to 2.5 hours to the summit. We decided that if it took that long to reach the peak we would try to camp at the summit if it was possible. We were out of water, so we pulled out our trusty PUR water filter and re-filled our Camelbacks. That thing works great! Off we went again after rationing ourselves a few more dinky buns. The jungle got even thicker and the trail more obscure. We kept our eyes on the brightly colored tree markers and did a pretty good job of staying on target. We approached another summit and thought we were there, only to realize that it was a false summit, 20 meters short of the real one. Rats! Back down we went and then back up and finally we were there at kilometer 15 ready for our "linda vista". As it turned out, the summit was little more than a table top where you could barely peak out of the cloud forest at the other mountain tops. A bit of a let down. But hey, we had just hiked to the highest point in Honduras! Camping didn't look possible at the peak and since it only took us one hour and fotry five minutes to get up there from Camp 2 we decided to get moving in order to make it back before dark. Ugh. We dragged our tired, hungry bodies back down and up and down the trail on our way back to the camp and arrived there around 4:45. Eight hours of hiking! We set up the tent and pulled out our camp stove to have our one true meal of the day - dehydrated camp food. We scarfed down the teriyaki chicken dinner, leaving ourselves one can of sardines, 2 dinky buns and a handful of raisins and peanuts. It was now dark so we climbed into the tent as the temperature was dropping rapidly and the area was too wet to build a fire. We played cards until 7:00 and decided to go to bed. We tucked ourselves into our summer sleeping bags and lay there freezing. I turned the flashlight back on and rooted around for all the clothes I had - short sleeve and long sleeve lightweight shirts, button down shirt, fleece, zip-off pants, fleece pants, rain jacket and pants, two pairs of damp socks, balaclava and gloves. Ah, that oughta do it. No way. It was just slightly above freezing outside. My feet were freezing since they were damp so I took my backpack rain cover and wrapped them around my feet and then tucked them into my daypack. I had nothing else so I layed down for the long night. I was still really cold and was only able to sleep a little at a time. I listened to Jeff's sleeping sounds wondering how he could possibly be warm enough to sleep. Hmmm... Finally, 5:30 rolled around and we got up to pack the gear and hit the trail. After eating our last two dinky buns and the nuts and raisins, we set out on the beautiful sunny morning to make our descent. We were actually feeling pretty chipper, knowing that we were gonna stuff ourselves silly when we got to town. After 1.25 hours we were back to camp 1. Jeff scarfed down the last can of sardines and off we went. As we walked, we discussed what we would say if we crossed others heading up. It had been a very difficult excursion with not much scenery except for the dense cloud forest. Since we had only seen two people we thought we were probably safe from having to lie about how great it was. Well, of course, one hour from finishing we crossed three Americans who were volunteering at a nearby rural hospital. Thankfully though, by this time we were excited about being nearly finished and were in high spirits and were able to give it an honest picture of the difficulty without trashing it. We chatted for awhile and then set off for our last hour.
It should be said that the solidarity of the ascent team went through its normal periods of ups and downs. Questions like "Whose bright idea was it to slog through this hell hole?" and "I'm sick and tired of adventure, a little nonadventure would be nice from time to time" certainly didn't help. At other times I was convinced that had there been a divorce attorney anywhere in the general vicinity, Linda would have signed the papers right then and there. But all in all, it was a fabulous adventure and I would highly recommend it to anyone who has the lung capacity of a mountain goat. It was also an excellent test of our backpacking gear. Somehow our Betty Crocker Easy Bake Oven of a tent had magically transformed itself into a Westinghouse deep freezer. Aside from that everything worked as advertised.
Ah, at last we were back at the Ranger station hoping Suzi was still there. She was. We mounted our tired bodies onto the bike and headed back down the crap road. It is so amazing to me that Jeff can ride this stuff so easily. I can ride through it, but it ain't pretty and I don't like it, not one bit. He just scoots right on through without the blink of an eye. Maybe I'll be that way some day. Anway, back to town we went, rolled Suzi back into the lobby with TGH, showered and headed out for some lunch. It was a beautiful sunny day and we were thanking our lucky stars for the fine weather. We had a beer with lunch and with my empty tank, it left me loopy. We went back to take a nap and try to make up for the sleepness night. We went back to restaurant Guancascos for some dinner and took the HPC along to see if we could get e-mail and upload the journals for Guatemala. We were in luck on all accounts. We had trouble getting part 1 of Guatemala up though (hopefully we had it repaired before you all got to it). We inquired again about the weather in the Bay Islands since the weather had turned so beautiful in Gracias and our alternative was to ride 50 miles of really bad, unpaved roads with Jeff's dicey shocks. They didn't have more weather info. but the paper indicated that clearing was expected. We decided to give it a go in the morning and head off towards the capital if the weather was bad.
We got up the next morning, packed the bikes and prepared to take off by 8:30. As we were ready to go I decided to take a quick pit stop. Just as I returned, almost as if on cue, Suzi slowly toppled over and slammed into a concrete wall. Fortunately, the Hepco Becker panniers took most of the impact and we where quickly on our way. Those panniers sure take a beating and keep on ticking. Whenever we get to Germany I'm gonna buy those guys at H&B a beer. The weather was really nice and it was a beautiful ride through the gently winding roads to the turn off to San Pedro Sula. The road gets pretty twisty there. Since my riding is getting better, I'm beginnng to have more fun on these roads and it wasn't long before we had descended through the cavernously pot-holed roads to the valley. These roads in Honduras are kinda strange because by and large they are in excellent condition. However, you really have to be careful because there are lots of sneaky holes in the road and they're deep. I'm sure I'm going to hit one one of these days but so far I've been lucky. Anyway, around 11:30 we stopped for some lunch and got back on the road in fairly short order. We were treated to a beautiful valley of coffee plantations and were able to make good time through the valley. We stopped for gas near San Pedro Sula which was where we needed to decide to head towards the Bay Islands or towards the capital. We inquired at the gas station and they said the roads weren't bad but there were some bridges that had been washed out and we might have to take a boat across some rivers. The weather looked good so we decided to go for it. Not five minutes after heading out of the parking lot, a big white truck passed us and the driver gave us an excited thumbs up. Just up ahead he had pulled over and was waving us down. We pulled over and it turned out that he was an American that was born in Guatemala and raised in Honduras and was now the general manager for Renfro, the largest sock manufacturer in the world. David has a KTM 620 dirt bike and was psyched to look at and talk about our bikes and trip. He asked if we wanted to come over to his office for a bit. We accepted the invitation and David graciously allowed us to get e-mail and upload our messed up Guatemala journal. We then went for a tour of the sock plant. Excellent working conditions and absolutely spotless. We were very impressed. David had inquired about our travel plans and we told him we planned to go that night to La Ceiba, where we would catch a ferry to Utila in morning. He said he had a buddy in La Ceiba who was the general manager for a sausage manufacturer, Pepe. He said he'd call Pepe about the road conditions and ask if we could leave the motos at Pepe's factory so they would be secure. He also mentioned that Pepe has a rafting business and that we could probably get a discount. After calling Pepe and getting everything staightened out, we told David we better get going as we only had a few hours of daylight. We hoped to get to La Ceiba that night but figured it was more likely we'd only make it to Tela (65 miles closer).
We took off again and headed towards the East coast. The skies got increasingly grey in that direction and we were getting kind of paranoid but kept on going. The weather held out though and we made it to Tela just before dark. We got a room at the Hotel Presidente, with ac and hot water and cable tv. It was a nice little splurge for $18. All three guide books suggested a seafood restaurant right on the beach as being the best in town. We went over to the restaurant and had a delicious seafood dinner for around $15. If for no other reason a trip to Tela is worthwhile just to eat at Cesar Mariscos on the promenade. Awesome, and we got to pay with Visa which was good since we were short on cash. We went back to pack as we had to catch a 9:30 ferry in La Ceiba and we were only taking our little backpacks with us.
We got up at 5:30 the next morning thinking we only had 30 miles or so. As we went down to pack the bikes, we were disappointed to find that it was raining, though not pouring. We packed up anyway and got on the road about 6:45. It rained fairly contstantly the whole way which kept us at a slower clip than we would've liked. We arrived at Pepe's plant around 8:45. He told us we better hurry and that he'd have a guy drive us to the bridge where we'd have to catch a taxi to the terminal. We gathered our things as quckly as possible and scurried over to the waiting truck. The road to the bridge was incredibly backed up as the Tropical Storm had buckled the bridge and only one lane was open. It was about this time that Jeff realized in all the rush that he had forgotten the camera. Major bummer! We really wanted to take some pictures of the Bay Islands for all you kindly folk back home. With 15 minutes to spare, we climbed into a cab and headed for the terminal. Upon arrival, he informed us that the price he quoted us was "each" and cheated us big time. We were running to late to argue so Jeff begrudingly paid. This left us without enough money for the boat. It was now almost 9:30. We saw a guy that looked American or Austalian or something and we asked him if we could borrow 40 limps and that we would pay him back in Utila. Link let us borrow the money, we bought our one way tickets to Utila for $9 each and we all got on board. Link has been living in Argentina for 6 months and we talked about travel. On the boat they played "Men in Black" as we made our way through super rough waters and stormy skies. Fortunately I made it through without hurling. Not five minutes from Utila, the blue sky appeared and out came the sun. Awesome. Link's brother is a dive instructor for Alton's Dive Shop in Utila and had travelled down on a KLR 650 also the only difference being that he has been on the road for 10 months. His mom was there too and had travelled down in a van with two dogs. They were waiting on the dock for him. We met the family and agreed to meet up later at the dive shop to repay Link. Jeff and I went to the bank and got some lunch and headed over to Alton's where we were greeted by Gracie, the full-o-energy Aussie dive instructor that gave us the scoop on the Advanced Certification course. It would cost $165 a piece and included 5 dives, 4 day and 1 night dive. They also have rooms available for $3 per person and dive packages of 10 dives for $100. Reputedly the cheapest place in the world to dive. I didn't particullarly like the accomodations offered by the dive shop so we took Gracie's suggestion and went down a couple blocks to Freddy's Place hotel. It was right on the water next to the bridge leading to the airport. It had two rooms that shared a kitchen and bath. It was perfect and for $10 a night ya couldn't beat the price.
After check in we went for a walking tour of the island. As we walked around I was trying to remember all the places that I went to 3 years ago during Hurricane Louise. Utila is very small and after an hour or so we ended up at the end of the road on the western tip of the island at a little place called Blue Bayou. We grabbed a couple empty hammocks and a couple of Port Royals and tried our best to immitate that Corona beer commerical. The water, the palm trees, the sea breeze reminded us of our former lives in Florida. It was fun reminiscing about the 'old days'. It was just about then that we met the owner of the place. He was a crusty old salt of Scottish descent who was born on Utila and left to work in the merchant marines back in the real old days. We would "love to watch his eyes as he told his sailor's stories; she could feel the ocean come alive, with all its rage and glory; But he had always told the truth, Lord he was an honest man and Brandy did her best to understand; dooodoodoodooooooo..." Sorry about that, got a little carried away, I've always liked that song. Anyways, turns out that during WWII a torpedo sunk his ship just off the coast of Cuba. He, along with 25 other survivors, lived for 9 days off whatever fish they could catch until they were rescued off the coast of Miami. We could tell we were only scratching the surface of this guys life so we were forced to bid him adieu and headed back into town. On our way back we could just see the hundreds of stories prancing around in the eyes of the locals. It seemed as if everyone tried to leave Utilia at one time or another only to return. We could easily see why. It was a very relaxing place stocked full of coziness. We went to the local grocery, stocked up on supplies and headed home to Freddy's. When we arrived we found a little kitty cat. Linda had to get her cat fix so we quickly adopted it and fed it some milk. The cat was so hungry as it scarfed down the white gold that she would sneeze violently and this fine mist of milk would come out of her nose. Kind of nasty but it was good to have a pet. Later that night we met up with the dive shop crowd at Cross Creek for some Cuba Libre's and grilled tuna. I could tell right away that we were going to love this place.
The cat slept in the bed with us the previous night which pretty much guaranteed that it would be treated like a queen for the next couple of days by Linda. After breakfast we headed off to the dive shop for Linda's tune up dive and my fun dive. Cost for the additional dive was $15 a piece. The weather was perfect and the visability was great. There is quite a reef system around Utila and there are numerous dive spots all within 20 minutes or so of the dive shop. Our dive instructor was going to be Moises, a local Utilian and an engineer by training. But like all Utilians he left to work in the 'real' world for a while, didn't like it so he returned to be a dive instructor. Sounds alright to me. After a quick lunch we returned to the dive shop to prepare for our night dive. Armed with lights we descended to 40 feet and a reef full of life. We saw numerous king crabs, too many fish to name and the infamous bioluminescence of the plankton. A wonderful dive. When we returned we feasted on grilled Wahoo and Barracuda. Quite nice. It turns out that earlier in the day Linda snuck off to the grocery and bought a big bag of cat food for our feline friend for 48 limpiras. That is more than I paid for my grilled Wahoo dinner! This cat better be grateful that's all I've got to say about the matter. I have to admit that it was funny seeing the cat's reaction to hard food. It was quite obvious she had never had cat food before and didn't know how to eat it. So I poured a little milk on it and it was off to the races. I could tell the island was casting its spell because I even started to like the cat.
The next morning we met at the dive shop at 7:00 a.m. to get ready for our "multi-level" dive to 85 feet. The dive was another beauty with numerous Green Moray Eels and a gazillion fish. The reefs here are huge, starting at about 20 feet and going all the way down to 100 feet. The afternoon dive was on a reef wall to 40 feet where we practiced our underwater navigation with wrist compasses. Afterwards we met at the diveshop to watch a movie made in Utila with music from Kenny G. (I cried), Enya (My spirit came alive), Sting (Not sure what I did then) and Louis Armstrong (I got down with my bad self). Then Linda, myself, Eric a New Yorker who is a trader on the stock exchange and Sebastian,Thorston and Jurgen, heretofore known simply as the Germans, went out to get a little dinner. We ended up at this Italian place where Linda had broiled shark and I had Schnitzel. The Germans weren't too impressed with my entre, apparantly not authentic German Schnitzel. But you know what they say, "There's just no pleasing those Germans." At the restaurant we saw our cat begging for food. When we called her over she seemed really glad to see us again. When we went home somehow she beat us back to the apartment. We all went to bed for tomorrow we were going over to the north side of the Island for some serious wall diving.
We met early the next morning at the dive shop at 7:00 a.m. Since we were using the slow boat it would take us over an hour to motor over to the north side of the Island. Utila is the leading edge of the Central American continental shelf. The drop off on the north side was supposedly 3,000 feet deep. We were only going down to 100 today. On the way we saw several flying fish trying to escape the wake of the boat. The wall we were to dive went from 20 feet down to 100 feet. As we were making our descent my regulator started to act up. By 70 feet I was getting about a quarter breath. I knew it wasn't going to work so I told Linda to go on down and I signaled to one of dive masters, Alex form South Carolina, that I wasn't getting any air. I had to buddy breathe off of his secondary regulator and resurface. We quickly changed gear and I went back down and met the group at about 60 feet. The second dive of the day was one of the most beautiful reefs that I've seen. It had nice little canyons and caves and was teeming with life. One of the more interesting dives that I've been on. The visability was at least 100 feet. Wonderful place to dive. Afterwards we decided to buy some airline tickets to Roatan and then we needed a little rest 'cause tonight was to be our going away/certification party. The flight to Roatan would require us to return to La Ceiba and then out to Roatan. Cost $38 per person. But first I had to try and set the standard of swimming from the dive shop out to the lighthouse and back. Just from looking at it I guessed it would take me about 30 minutes to make it round trip. A couple of the dive masters swam it in around 35 to 40 minutes. They looked like decent swimmers but they smoke and I can't imagine that anyone who smokes could be faster than me in aerobic endeavors. As a matter of fact all the divemasters smoked like chimneys. So off I went a little before sundown. The water in the sheltered bay was kinda murky and initially very shallow. As I got a little further out, there was a noticeable chop and still very little visability. Not only was I racing against the 30 minute barrier I was also trying to get back before sunset. The bay was already heavily traveled by numerous motor boats and there was a really good chance of getting run over by one of them. I had to stay constantly alert for oncoming boats. I actually felt pretty good for the first 10 minutes or so but it seemed like the more I swam the further away the lighthouse got. I finally rounded the lighthouse at 14 minutes but as I made the turn for home I was swimming against the current. Just what I needed for my first swim since Puerto Escondido. I finally arrived at the dive shop in 30 minutes 15 seconds into a slick of gasoline. It was horrible, it stuck to my hair, beard and skin. The silver lining was that I wouldn't have to use conditioner in my hair for the next 20 years. Everyone seemed duly impressed with the time. I thought to myself that if they were impressed with 30 minutes they would really be impressed with our friend Ellen who could probably swim it in 25 minutes, while 8 1/2 months pregnant. After a couple Port Royal beers I could hardly taste the gasoline anymore. Later on we all went over to have grilled kingfish and some celebratory shots. After dinner we all went over to Bird in the Bush (a bar/disco). While I played volleyball, Linda was discussing world problems with the Germans. The place was a wonderful outdoor bar that played about 4 songs. Brittney Spears salsa version of "Hit me baby one more time", "Mambo Number 5", "Living La Vida Loca" and Cher's latest ditty. But it didn't really matter. Everyone was on the dance floor having a great time. The Swedes were dancing with the Australians, the Americans were dancing with the Hondurans and the Germans were dancing with nobody in particular. It was with a heavy heart that we were leaving the next day but as they say in Germany "Oh mein Himmel" or something like that.
We had to wake up earlier than should ever be expected by a mere mortal to catch our 9:30 flight back to La Ceiba. The runway was really just a patch of gravel and our 9 seat plane was just a model attached to a real engine but we were both feeling so bad that if the plane had fallen apart in mid air it would have done us both a favor. We arrived safely to La Ceiba after our 20 minute flight. After a slice of Pizza Hut Pizza I was feeling much better. We were both suffering from Post Party Depression by the time we arrived on the bay island of Roatan after another 20 minute flight (about 15 miles from Utila). We felt compelled to visit this Island from Utila just to use as a comparison. Everyone always told us that Utila was for backpackers and Roatan was more of a resort place. When we arrived, the cab drivers told us that there were no buses running to the West End and they offered to take us there for $10. By now we were way too travel savvy to fall for that old prank and we opted to take the public transportation for $2.50. When we arrived we were suprised to find the supposed "trendiest place on the island" to be in shambles and way overpriced. Everything from the accomodations to the food to the cost per dive was double the price of Utila. After scrambling around for an hour or so looking for a cheap hotel we met the very nice owner of the West End Hotel. He was also a former merchant marine who came back to live the island life. We were able to get the off season rate of $15 per night. About half as much as the rest of the West End. The next mission was to find the Florida State/Florida football game on a TV. We ended up at Sueno del Mar restaurant, which had cable TV. It took some convincing to get them to turn on the TV. We couldn't hear the sound but had subtitles to keep us focused on the game. I can't tell you how enjoyable it was to watch Bobby Bowden teach Steve Spurrier that maybe he's not the most intelligent man on earth. I was also surprised to see everyone else in the bar rooting against the University of Florida. Maybe when Spurrier becomes a little more mature, he'll attain a little more class and humility and carry himself with a little more dignity than the common shrew. F-L-O-R-I-D-A S-T-A-T-E Florida State! Florida State! Forida State! Woooooooooo! But I digress... Because of the game we missed a perfectly good sunset. The restaurant was very good but way too spendy for my taste. We then looked around for a dive shop. The price was $30 per dive. A bit of sticker shock after Utila, but when in Rome... We retreated back to the hotel amidst brooding clouds.
When we woke there was a tempest a-blowing. The sea was churning and after meeting with the dive shop personnel, we found that there was no way we would get to dive today. So we spent the next 4 hours sitting in a restaurant talking with some volunteers for a German agency providing health care to orphaned youth. 3 of the 4 were American and whom elected to serve the 13 months in Honduras. They picked the German agency because the American Peace Corps had a 2 year minimum enlistment and had a very long review process. It was a cathartic release for Linda as she unloaded a lot of repressed talking that she wasn't able to do since my communicator stopped working. Afterward I went out into the stormy waters for a turbulent 16 minute swim. Not the most fun I've ever had but that's never stopped me before. We spent the rest of the day planning our escape from Roatan and avoiding the rain. If you have the choice I would definitely recommend Utila. Even if you want to spend a lot of money Utila is heads and shoulders above Roatan.
We had another 5 a.m. wakeup to catch the 7:00 a.m. ferry to La Ceiba. Upon arrival we quickly caught a cab (at half the price we paid last time) to Pepe's sausage factory, where we stowed our bikes. Unfortunately for us, the water level was still too high to go rafting so we visited with Pepe for a while and opted to take off for Tegucigalpa and the Kawasaki dealership. We had forgotten that when we arrived it was raining. So when we packed our riding gear it was totally soaking wet. Wet riding gear does not keep too well when packed in tight confines for a week. By the time we pulled it out, the strong smell of ammonia filled the air. The only real way we had to air the gear out was to wear it. It really wasn't bad while we were moving but once we stopped we had to hold our breath. We retraced our steps from the previous week except this time the weather was very nice. La Ceiba is a georgous place. From sea level to 8,000 feet in elevation comprises about 10 miles. The mountains formed a stunning backdrop as we cruised along the road to Tegucigalpa. Along the way we passed the picturesque Lake Yojoa, the mountain town of Siguatepeque and eventually dropped down through the pine forests to the capital city. We arrived just a little before 5 and were met with the chock full throughfares of big city traffic. No problem for Linda, definitely her riding strength is in heavy Latin American traffic. The city itself is a maze of one way streets, pedestrian markets that pop up out of nowhere and the ever vigilant policia. We rode around for hours in the dark trying in vain to find a cheap hotel. After asking numerous people, we finally stopped. It was just then that we saw two Germans walking down the street and I asked them if they knew where Hotel Granada was. They pointed to the huge sign right behind us and said "right here". That was easy. We quickly checked in, 180 limps ($13) per night. The room was nothing special but it had the best bathroom we've seen yet. Afterwards we went to eat Italian food at Il Romani and went in search of the Gringo bar called Tobacco Road. It is amazing how quickly these large cities empty after dark. We were wandering around a ghost town that just 2 hours before was hustling and bustling. We finally found Tobacco Road and settled in for a couple beers. We were quickly spotted by some curious Honduran college students. We then spent the next two hours discussing everything from the Moskito Coast to life in America. Felipe was especially entertaining. He had spent 6 months in Iowa as a highschool exchange student. We finally crept back through the forboding ghost town back to our hotel that was by now looking like a high security prison with all the chains and locks and security. Makes you wonder if it weren't for all these precautions, would chaos immediately erupt? It still felt safer than walking through downtown Miami in the middle of the night, then again guns aren't legal in Central America. More likely than not its safer than American big cities because there's nobody walking the streets at night to rob.
The main reason we came to Tegucigalpa was so I could take TGH to the local Kawasaki dealership to have Eliahs take a look at my front shocks. Eliahs came recommended by David from San Pedro Sula. The bike has been handling very poorly for the last couple of weeks. I looked all over the front end and couldn't find anything obvious. After losing myself in the labyrinth of city streets for a while, I finally found the shop. It was primarily a Nissan dealership with a small showroom of a couple motorcycles and jet skis. I eventually rounded up Eliahs and we looked the bike over and couldn't find anything wrong. Finally he measured the air pressure in the shocks and decided that we should add 8 lbs of pressure. Afterwards they cleaned TGH and he mentioned that about a month ago there were 3 gringos who came by the shop and all were on KLR 650's. They were on their way down to Tierra del Fuego for the new year. When I asked him how much I owed him he said "it is enough that you ride a Kawasaki". I had to force a tip of 3 dollars on him with the threat that if he didn't take it, I wasn't going to leave. When I returned to the hotel, Linda was still running around town looking for an e-mail connection. She returned empty handed around 1 p.m. So we took the computer and started our quest to find someone who would allow us to use a phone line. We stopped in numerous hotels and internet cafes with no luck. Everyone seems to think that we're trying to pull a fast one on them. Eventually we found an internet cafe who, after about a half hour of coercing, let us use the line. As we downloaded e-mail we noticed a trend. There was a lot of correspondance concerning my brother, Tom. Apparantly, over the past weekend he had become gravely ill and was in the hospital listed in serious condition. Unfortunately I only seemed to get half the information. I was beside myself and flooded with a rush of emotion. I tried to call Germany with no success. Then we tried to call the States and eventually got through to Linda's mom who knew a little about the situation. I felt totally helpless. We went back to the hotel and plotted our strategy. Maybe we could get to San Jose, Costa Rica and catch a flight to Germany. It was a frantic night. We went back to the same Italian restaurant that night. About halfway through the dinner the entire city had a black out (and mind you, Tegus is more than half a million people). Only the nearby hospital still had electricity. The restaurant owner quickly locked up the front door. I wondered if the same thing would happen here as what happened in New York during their blackout. By the time we finished our meal the shop keeper unlocked the door and asked that we please be careful walking the streets. One of the reasons that mayhem wasn't reigning supreme was because everything was already locked tight. I couldn't really tell the difference from the night before except that it was a little darker. We used our head lamps to prepare for the next days journey to Nicaragua.
The road heading due west from the capital to the Nicaraguan border was more likely than not some of the most scenic terrain that we've experienced yet. But I could not stop thinking about my brother. It truly is incredible how easy it is to slip from good health and happiness to knocking on heaven's door. The 2 1/2 hours to get to Las Manos was a flood of memories from our childhood to the last time we went skiing at Mt. Bachelor. None of what was happening made any sense and if I didn't snap out of it I was going to run off the road. I had to regroup and focus on the task at hand. Get to the border in one piece... Las Manos is a sleepy little border town and we were greeted by only a couple Tramitadors. One was especially motivated. He was also 11 years old, didn't really know what he was doing but was very entertaining. I ended up paying 90 limps to leave Honduras. I probably could have raised a stink and not paid anything but I just wasn't in the mood. It was time now to tackle Nicaragua and find a place that will let us get e-mail and develop a plan of action.
Random Thoughts: As we were riding throughout Honduras there were numerous reminders of Hurricane Mitch everywhere. But all the roads were open and the people seemed really anxious to have the tourists back. We talked with some other travelers who had heard that Honduras was experiencing a large increase in criminal acts due to the loss of jobs caused by the flooding. We never saw even the slightest bit of hostility, quite to the contrary. Everyone was exceedingly friendly and very helpful; There is no rhyme or reason to speed limits in Central America. One minute the speed limit would be 60 mph and the next minute, and for no apparent reason, the speed limit would drop to 25 mph. Abosolutely every car, that could, would easily double the posted limit. I think the reason they post such ridiculous speed limits is to attach liability in the case of an accident. It would always be reasonable to assume that the perpetrator of an accident was speeding. Mostly because there is no way anyone can drive as slow as the speed limits down here. If you did you would cause a dangerous interruption to the flow of traffic. We would put our lives in our own hands when we slowed down to 45 mph in school zones because the cars behind us would have to slam on their brakes and swerve to miss us. You can tell that the pedestrians and even small children take crossing the road very seriously.