Peenie Wallie

These guys are moving pretty fast, but I catch up to them quickly. Their bikes aren't very fast, and they have to stop for gas every 90 miles. So, I catch up to them, and just start riding in formation with them.

Immediately, the 2nd rider starts giving me signals. He signals with his feet when there's an obstruction in the road....a rock...a rabbit...a cow...(I'm not making this up).

He signals me to slow down when we come into towns. Like...how fucking nice is it to be essentially, lost in a midlife crisis in a foreign country and then, have people come riding by that automatically accept you as one of the klan? How sweet is that? That, I think, is what I had hoped for. On some level.

Now, the lead Harley rider is flying a flag. No joke. I couldn't tell you what it said, but both of them were weating jackets that said Latin American Motorcycle Club, if I'm not mistaken.

So, it's like a club...or a gang....I'm not clear. But they immediately accept me into their little ride. At some point, we come into a town and we stop for lunch. One guy speaks good english, and used to work in Sacramento. The other guy speaks only spanish. But they want to stop for lunch and I'm like....uh...yeah...like...I'm all in. I got no other plans. I'm just sort of....uh....I don't know what I'm doing really. Let's just go to the next topic, shall we?

So we stop for lunch at this little fried chicken franchise called Tip Top. Not a place that I would normally stop, but I'm just along for the ride.

So we stop for lunch and they have Nicaraguan plates and they say they're heading down to this big motorcycle rally, and I'm welcome to join them. If I want, I can stay at his house. See...this is what I love about the road. I don't get this when I'm in the United States, for whatever reason. It's just not like this. It's not even close.

But I tell him that I have to keep riding. So, we'll ride together until our paths splits. He has figured out where I'm going, and where we'll part ways.

"We will stop, when we split directions," he offers.

And I'm like..."uh...ok...sure."

But then, when we start out of town, my GPS says to go one way. And they take off a different way. So I chase up to him and explain that my GPS says to go the other way.

"Just follow us. Go this way," he says. And like, my thought is...when a guy riding a Harley flying a flag wearing a jacket that says Latin American Motorcycle Riders says "Follow me," you follow him. Like..."I'm all in. Let's go." And guess what? After about 5 miles, the GPS sort of gave up trying to get me to turn around and then routed me down the road we were on. So maybe they weren't going to kill me, after all?

We ride for some time. And, riding with other riders makes the adventure so much more fun. There just are no words. It's so nice to just ride and follow someone else for while. It's just such a relife there aren't words. Like...now, I don't have to glance at my GPS. All I have to do is follow the guys in front. That's all. Easy peasy.

I always love riding with other people because of this. Now, there are some tradeoffs. It's not quite as easy to stop and shoot photos, if you haven't told the other riders what your plans/habits are, but today, I'm glad to ride along with my new Harley friends.

I love that they keep giving me hand signals. I ride alone so much, that I don't get all of this. He signals with his hands and his feet. It makes me want to do some research to see what type of signals are standard when riding in formation. Certainly something I know very little about. But I love it when he points his foot in the direction of a rock or a rabbit.

Then, at some point, we come into this town, and there's a roundabout, and they both signal and stop. I pull over and stop, not really prepared for what's about to happen.

"This is where we part ways," he offers. "We go this way. You stay on and go that way."

Like...I'm about to cry. I wasn't ready for this. I wanted to keep riding. But I need to keep riding down to Panama. I can't really be hanging out at their party, though I'm sure it would be fun. So we say our goodbyes and split ways.

Now, I'm rolling south, towards the border with Costa Rica.

The thing is that, it's kind of funny, but now I'm riding down a road that I've been down before. A few years back, when I road alone through Central America for the first time, I remember riding by this giant lake in Nicaragua, and there was this huge wind farm. Now, you can argue that I remember the photos, and not really the wind farm, and I'm not really in a position to dispute it. But, in my mind, I remember riding by the huge lake and seeing the windmill farm.

Only now, I'm not sure where it is. Maybe the route my friend made us take took me away from it? I'm not clear. I'm still about 30 miles from the border, but it should be coming up pretty quick. I would really hate to miss is. Because, really, this is where my two routes intersect for the first time. Last time, I rode down the gulf coast, then down the carribbean coast, then cut down through Nicaragua by this giant lake. So, this is where my two routes merge, it seems.

And sure enough, I see the giant windmills on the shores of the lake. A huge windmill farm. With giant windmills, blades bent against the strong winds, about to blow me off the road. I hunker down as low as possible on the bike to stay on the road.

This is such a beautiful ride. There's always part of the day that makes you wonder why you're here. But there's always part of the day that makes you realize how fantastic this journey truly is. Make you feel like you're on top of the world, for a while anyway.

I roll down and get some shots on the shores of the lake.

Now, rolling south again, and eventually, I reach the border with Costa Rica. What's funny is that I remember this border crossing. It's sort of hard to ferret out where the Immigracion and the Aduana offices are on the Nicaragua side. (Hint: Signs would help, people.)

But today, I have a plan. Today, when I get to the border, I get out a pen (I only have one...I left all my extra pens in the last hotel room on purpose. I'm getting down to the bare essentails.) Today, I will write with a pen on my folder each time I pay money out crossing the border. This is the worst part of the journey by a long shot. Supremely painful, difficult to grasp, almost impossible to track the expenses when you're crossing borders, changing currencies. Just madness.

But today, I write down each transaction with a pen, so there's no question at the end of the day who was paid what in what currency, and why.

And I track the time crossing from one country into the next.

I wrap up with the exiting from Nicaragua fairly quickly. This time, when they ask me to declare my currency, I just put $0.00. Like...it's none of their fucking business how much money I have. Seriuosly.

They ask me for some currency in USD, at which point I realize that I can't find my money belt. So I ask them where the banyo is. I'm reasonably sure my money belt is gone, as it's clearly not where it's supposed to be. So I go into the bathroom, and somehow it's hanging down by my knees in my blue jeans. Not clear how. Pull out some USD and put them in my wallet, and go back in. Hand them a soaking wet $50 bill. Don't ask.

So, they push me through Immigracion and Aduana in Nicaragua fairly quickly. Now, I go outside, and my handler wants all this money and I'm like..."No. Here's $10 USD." And he complains, but I'm like..."that's what you get. Deal with it." And he leaves.

Now, it's getting late in the day. The vendors are all packing up their stuff. I go by a woman's cart and get two chilled OJ's from her. This helps make the process more tolerable. You need to be well hydrated.

I'm tired and it's hard for me to grasp what country I'm in. (There are not a lot of clear signs, obviously.) So, finally, I'm released from Immigracion and Aduana. Now, I roll down to hit Immigracion and Aduana for Costa Rica.

I'm praying that they won't close and tell me to come back tomorrow. You never know with these bureacrats, after all.

But I manage to clear the Immigracion and Aduana for Costa Rica, and wrapped up just about sunset, and just bolt down the highway, searching for the next town. I had planned on going about 15 miles to the little town of La Cruz, Costa Rica.

So I bolt from the border, and at first, the road is horrible. I'd forgotten how bad roads could be. Nicaragua had me spoiled. The roads in Nicaragua were immaculate. At least as good as Mexico's roads. Far superior to Guatemala or Honduras. But now, I'm in Costa Rica and the roads are just dirt. Why do they put these roads on the map, even?

But after a few kilometers, the road turns to one of smooth, thick, new asphalt. Smooth as a baby's ass. In Guatemala, even when they paved roads, they weren't smooth. Because they don't know how to pour and smooth asphalt. So, even the new roads would shake your teeth fillings loose.

And now, the sun is getting low. I'm racing for La Cruz, Costa Rica. Like...no real reason. Just that it was 150 miles futher down the road. I've decided that I can only ride 150 miles if I also have to cross a border. It's just too much.

I'm dodging flocks of these large white birds...I'm not clear what they are, but maybe some type of heron? Also, I'm seeing flocks of what looks like brightly colored green and yellow parakeets?

I roll into the town of La Cruz at dusk. "Donde hotel?" I'm interrogating strangers on the street.

They encourage me to keep going.

And, I keep going, until a motorcycle comes past me. He has saddle bags/panniers, and I immediately turn around. Like..."Oh hell no you didn't....this town isn't big enough for both of us..."

And it's a couple of local riders. They're on a Honda TransAlp. Now that I think about it, I do recall that bike. It came out a while back. But they're local riders. Very cool.

I ask them about the hotel...they're like....yeah...it's a hotel and restaurant. It's all you.

So I check into the hotel and, as I check in, it starts to rain. Nailed it! I got off the road just in time.

$20 for a room with a shared bath. $40 for a room with a private bath.

I don't normally like to spend this much money, but I splurge for the $40 room. Now, here is where it get tricky. I give the guy a $50 bill (USD), and he says he doesn't have $10 (USD), so he gives me change in Colones. So, I get $5,000 Colones as change. He says it's worth $10.00.

Who knows? Who am I to say. I mean....for the love God this gets complicated when you're changing currencies every other day. Like...just think about that for a second...you need to 1) figure out what currency the county uses and 2) what the exchange rate is and 3) get your hands on some of the new currency pronto so you can buy snacks on the side of the road, pay for your gas, your hotel, etc., and 4) less than two days later, you have to wash, rinse, and repeat the process with a totall new currency. Insanity. Sheer madness. Anyone that would even attempt this is an idiot, but I digress.

So you get into these mixed currency transactions, when you're sweating like a whore in church, tired from being on the road, and can't even remember for sure what country you're in...and now you're trying to make change from USD to Mexican Pesos to Guatemalan Quetzals to Honduran Limpira to Nicaraguan Cordobas to Costa Rican Colones. I have dealt with all of these currencies in the last week.

So, anyone that says they can keep it straight in their head is either a liar or a fool.

Good enough. He gives me change in Colones. Fair enough. Let's move on, shall we?

As he checks me in, it starts to rain. I hit a homerun stopping at this place. The place is a hotel AND a restaurant, something I really didn't see much on the way down here.

But now, I don't have to go anywhere. He tells me to pull the bike around back. So I pull the bike around back in a light rain. Glad to be off the road for the night. Exhausted, as always.

But the hotel-restaurant is the way to go, obviously. I check into my hotel room. Get a shower. And now I don't have to get back on the bike. I just walk to the restaurant, sit down on a couch, with candle light. Listen to the music as the rain starts and stops. This is not the rainy season. It's just a light rain. Nothing too serious.

=====================

Today, someone told me about another guy from Colorado that was down here on an adventure to Tierra Del Fuego. And it's the second time I've heard about him. I wonder who he is? And they said that they saw him today. So, he's on the same route as me. And not too far ahead of me. I'd kill to meet up with the guy, but how to find him?

======================

"When We Were Younger"

I never really got why we're here
Just look at all we build in our lives and we all disappear
A few of us are born with so much
While most of us just chasing down a dream that we just can't touch
So why we try so hard in this place?
When pain and suffering is a guarantee and happiness is a phase
I wonder if one day we're at peace
Or will this whole world just become like the middle east?

[Chorus:]
But when I was younger, when I was younger
I had the answers, I've got to say
But all of my answers, now that I'm older
Turned into questions, in front of me

I wonder where we go when we die
If there is anything past our lost sun and our sky?
Cuz airports only take us so high
Is it hidden in the stars?
What's the answer to your soul lying?
I wonder do we get to come back
I wonder if I will remember these questions I've asked
Or will I just start over again?
I hope it's not too hard to find all of my old friends.

[Chorus x2:]
But when we were younger, when we were younger
I had the answers, I've got to say
But all of my answers, now that we're older
Turned into questions, in front of me

I wonder if we get one true love
Or maybe there's a few out there
Or maybe not even one
I wonder if it's made up by man
I wonder if love is what we make with our own two hands
I wonder why I write all these songs
I wonder if you know what you're saying when you sing along
And will you know my name when I'm gone?
Or are you just too sick of these love songs?

[Chorus:]
But when we were younger, when we were younger
I had the answers, I've got to say
But all of my answers, now that I'm older
Turned into questions, in front of me

But when we were younger, when we were younger
I had the answers, I've got to say
But all of my answers, now that I'm older
Just turned into questions, right in front of me
Right in front of me, in front of me
Everything changes in front of me