I left Cartagena snapping my finger nails clinging to the times had. almost destroying the hotel holidays reception area, with my fat panniers and mild incoherance. Bounced down the Getsmani curb and wisked away south by the relatively mellow traffic. Half mile out finding the calle el mundo de motocicletas. A road seemingly miles long, every shop a motorcycle shop with bikes rasping in and out like an ants nest. Dust and deisel everywhere. Buses arguing with their horns and passangers hanging out of the door ways arms swinging in gestures. Here i found my high viz jacket with number plate glued on the back. number plate on helmet also. apparently not that necessary for tourists but better no hassle safe than sorry. Another half mile the road stops. traffics mayhem and the road works have no suggestion of an alternative direction. Stuff this i say and lay up at a sweet shop drinking water and chatting football to the man utd supporting shop keeper. he has heard of the mighty eagles. im chuffed to bits and wanna give him my palace top, but decide to not to. how else will i educate latin america on real football !! . thoughts of another night back in colourful cartagena, but i would be a laughing stock. ... im off, 10mins later im lost again. not even out of the suburbs. A bloke on a C90 riding one handed. his left hand carrying his work brief case, the laundry , what might be his grand children and the dog , leads me to the alley way i need to get to the southern hills. medellin, medellin i shout at him. his balance on the step through is incredible in the traffic...its not long and im slicing through farmland with perfume aromas, not the typical farmland stench. small villages made up of tiny square houses with one door and windows either side, palm roofs. colourful paintwork always. Flowers, all colours and sizes perfectly taken care of surround these casas. The landscape is vast. tight steep hills blending into each other with no fences. very green. all shades of green under the sun and moving clouds. coes with baggy necks and huge big ears stand tall on the steepness. The rains bring an unneeded solace. im probably the most content i have ever been. this goes on for 4 hours. twighlight comes in purple. I only get as far as Sincelejo 189kms, where i find a cheap flash hotel with a hamburger and the skinniest cerveza bottle ever. Aircon and loads of "MMMMMMMMM" and "AAAAHHHHHHHS" as i sink into a huge soft pillow.....Up and out early . 8a.m. im excited to ride again after scrambled eggs, flat corn and flat arepa. i meet Adrianna the artist. The toy town vastness rolls into the first peaks i have seen since middle mexico. more than just hills. is this the start of the andes ? Colombia has 3 cordilleras running north south. i have found the westerly spine. the breeze through my helmet is cool at last. The road turns into small straights , hairpins and perfect tarmac. 4th gear doesnt get a chance. it gets steep and thin. trucks stand still in the corners, then after the drivers have debated they crawl around the corners. The locals intelligently stroll through the corner traffic standstills selling melon, juices, water, empanadas and im not sure what . I want melon, but as soon as my lid comes off the traffic moves along. no melon for me. The steep dropoffs the side of the road are filled with those tiny houses again. made at low cost i guess. its ironic, the most uncostly housing built, on premier land overlooking grand, huge, incredible words cant find descriptions, vast vallies. probably some of the best scenery on earth. i cant help feeling happy for these people. they must know stuff i will never know. Apparently these lands are owned by officials in offices, but the locals just grab a plot and make a life there. Fantastic !....... its a climb for hours. it drops some then climbs again into the clouds. mysterious mist, where shapes just appear from the white. The road turns nastyish, gravel, potholes large and ramps cambering off the precipises, sliding you in that direction. Up and over the peaks. im down in a small town built into the sides of cliffs, some very steep. all buildings red brick. i gas up and meet victor from medellin. he has a honda 400 crosser that he blast up and over everywhere on. hes facinated with FXS and curious.Purple twilight again hanging over the far off peaks. i cant make medellin tonight. a hospedaje appears at a truck stop. all dusk, dust and deisel . men in wellies. no camo wear and wellies though, thank the universe !. pollo fritas y arroz started with beans big and sauce along side weary stained faced truckers, then im asleep. medellin tomorrow no doubt. its only 80ish kms away. what can go wrong ? i dont wanna ride at night here. JUST because i dont wanna miss anything in and around this landscape. colombia what a suprise it all is !

stepping back into the spainish main

Cartagena is gorgeous. Its been a week now and i must leave. if i dont today i will never leave. so its a case of type this, breakfast , bank then finding the traffic flow that will wisk me out and south , starting the climb into the Andes. Its incredibly hot and humid here. at night it doesnt change. i need the cool air of the mountains. More heart felt friendships and goodbyes. its becoming a habit now. all dont want leave each others companies, but do and go into the future friendships of the next towns , with the hopes of bumping into each other by chance. Above is a pic of our last night . buddies from the san blas boat. patrick and karen. rolling around the planet unconventionaly, they are an inspiration for doing it ya own way. karina the colombian rascal, who has unwittingly taught me more spanish with our continuous banter than i have learned anywhere. and omer the adventurous israely, with his new shaved head and chin. we havent left each others side for a month, now we must. hes waiting for his girlfriend to arrive then riding south together..... Cartagena, the hubb of the old spanish main. A city that seems like parts of it havent moved along in 400 years. the old fortresses and cannon batteries are everywhere, still guarding the city. buildings, with ornate balconies painted all the colours possible. people of all mixes live together. relentless street hawkers, selling wooden spoons, panamain hats, moody oaklies and ray bans. men with flasks of coffee wander the streets, for 500 peses you get a shot of tasty sugary strong coffee on every pavement. beggers with a limb missing. colombia still has many many land mines all over the fields and hills. police and military all over, cant even count the amount of differences in uniforms. after a week i finaly am legal to ride off now. Insurance is law here. we managed to get some yesterday. all i need is a high vis jacket. in colombia there has been so many motorcycle drive by assasinations that bikers have to have their registrations written on their helmets and on a high viz over jacket. The nights are fun and lively loud. cuban bands blast out the bongos till the early hours. people salsa instead of walk to the next bar. oh well, the next palce, medellin has a top reputation also so maybe its not that hard to leave here. Im glad that i didint realise i went way to quick through central america and blasted through. i have more time down here. this is the continent that will send me into a vast wonder and wandering. bigger everything. more surreal for an englishman than anywhere could be.

the gang - cartagena fortress. overlooking the caribbean seas
getsemani. old, ruined and wonderful. the forgotten zone of cartagena
getsemani cartagena
old town cartagena
cartagena

cartagena
developing sides of cartagena
as above, with the old town tucked to the left
cartagena 400 years ago
sitting, ready for plundering enemies

paradise and warming up to ride the gaunlet

I seem to be starting posts by saying "it was hard to leave". It was hard to leave Panama city. Not physicaly this time, but emotionaly..... Moving from the snoring Hotel Marbella to the casa de carmen was definatly the best thing i could have done. I hardly left the hostel carmen, for 4 days. Omer was staying there and it was alot cheaper than the hotels around. It became a home away from home.people came and went, generaly after a night, but i managed to meet the most wonderful people here, making a great unit of mates to sit up all night with eating pizza and sucking on the local ale. Taric and Hanna, an adventurous english couple , who have been moving around south america for months on end, in the living life to the full fast lane. cassy, an ozzy on her own . on her way to buenos aires to be part of an adventure show, aired over the world. melanie, a german working and living in panama. tzvie another israelie chap who had just sneeked across the border from colombia in a very unconventional way. . PJ the hilarious belgian, in love with latin america, who had us all cracking up all night long !. gayatu the anthropologist studying the northern panamanian indians. Eric the geezer from the baltimore hood, who educated me in the life they lead over there in the shadows of the rich . We all spent the days together sharing experiences and laughing till sun up. I truely miss these people and hope more than most stuff to meet them all again. With everyone gone, omer and i prized our way from panama city to head north to catch the boat to colombia. The panama isthmus is about 60 miles across. It seems pathetic that these 2 massive continents , north and south america , are held together by this small weak seeming piece of land. ..4 hours later, along the most roadworks i have ever seen along one stretch, we were in portabello. Famous over the years, as the place where all the gold and silver the spanish unpolitely took form the incas in peru , bolivia etc, after donkeys and slaves had dragged it all over from the pacific side, was met by fleets from spain to carry it all back to europe. Inevitably a place where other euro rascals thought they would get their share of the riches, by nicking it off the spanish. There are a few moss soaked fortresses still sitting on the hill tops and by the bays around here. Francis drake still layss out there in his lead coffin some way out to sea at portabello. Wrecks are apparently all over the place. Gold is still down there, buryed in time, tin cans and sand. The road turns along the caribbean east towards puerto lindo, the place of boats to colombia. This is an unspoiled road weaving, dipping rollercoasting along side the sea. Villages come and go, filled with african descendents of the first slaves. The road almost falls into the sea at sea level, with palm trees erraticaly, naturaly lining the way. Puerto lindo arrives. no big hotels, fancy doormen, all ammenaties here. Just raw bamboo and brick huts. The Hostel Wunderbar is our new home. Silvia and Guidos place. The place to sort out the right boat east. Our dorm is designed and built by the Kuna Indians of the San Blas islands. Bamboo walls with a dry palm leaves roof, that manages to keep all drops of rain out. This is raw tropics. Its very humid and it rains heavy alot, bringing black clouds and thunder from the loudest drum the universe has. Silvia tells us our captain for the 5 day sail is Leonardo. He has a 47 foot boat called the Zao, that can handle 2 bikes easy on deck. After a bit of research into ways of crossing this region by but, you get to remember captains names. there isnt a whole army of them, only a few handfuls. Leonardo hasnt a good reputation. why, i dont know. Oh well, we say, lets just get on with it, its only 5 days after all. The boat gets delayed another day, coz 2 more passengers havent arrived yet. I dont mind. Eating octopus in a secret sauce by a calm bay in the bright moonlight, earwigging conversations of smuggling, piracy, womanising and all the other naughtyness here, isnt a bad way to exists i recon. Soooooo, here we are, the boats ready. 2 more people have arrived to sail with us. that makes 6 of us and 2 bikes. Deborah and john. karen and patrick. Me and Omer. captain leonardo and his friend and helper Karina, from cartagena. We load the bikes one at a time onto small wooden rowing boats at the bay side to get the bikes to the sail boat , fifty metres off shore. Im nervous. visions of a sea soaked seaweed dripping bike have been haunting me for ages. No need to worry though. the villagers have it all in hand. its been done a hundreed times. We lift the bike into the rowing boat and get over to the sail boat. Leonardo charismaticly instructs the helpers. The bike is roped up around front and back wheels, then winched up onto the sail boat with ease. im relieved large ! Omers bike is next, no problems again. We set sail out of puerto lindo around 10ish a.m....... past a tiny island with posh housing spiralling around it. it turns out julio iglesias used to own this island. he then sold it to a drug lord who ended up getting nicked. its an idealic scene. we sail a mile i think from the coast line heading for 3 days in the san blas island, reputed to be the most paradise like on earth. Leonardo briefs us on behaviour and stuff onboard. its all common sense really. He doesnt seem to be the monster i have read about so far. A man with a natural dry humourous way. Obviously intelligent. We all chat and get on like we have known each other for ages. Im well happy. its an extention of the casa de carmen. more wonderful interesting comical people. Will it last though. we have 5 days on this boat. im sure the quirks in all of us will brake free before cartagena. The sea is calm. the wind is slight. Leonardo turns the motor on. we arrive in the islands. WOW ! this cant be real. small islands of various small sizes are scattered all over the sea. A black storm sits on one of the horizons, no change in darkness from the sky to the sea. The girls bravely dive in. I dive in. we all dive in. The water is like a warm bath. Clear blueness right to the bottom, where coral sits. A small fish tickles my leg, inspiring thoughts of hungrey hammer heads, that no one has mentioned or considered. I keep quite about that. We eat meat in a sauce. drink a few beers and watch the moon beam across the vastness. I keep the ship awake with my rhino snoring. oops ! Omer didnt get a wink coz of it. i had better kip on deck next night. the next 3 days were lazily spent, sailing to another island anchor, with an island which is just a resturant. the sign nailed to a palm tree. Storms came and went generaly around noon. its humid but the ocean soothes that. We are all laughing happy together stil .by this time i know leonardo is a top bloke and the bad comments must have been from uncompromising bad people. He gave up the life of a physicist at CERN in geneva, to raise his daughter on the seas and sand of this part of the world. Karina the colombian helper is a scream, we have verbal battles in broken spanish and english, she calls me a ratta i call her a ratta ! she can drink like no other ! must be the colombian way i think. Patrick buys the rum. how can ya come to these islands and not drink rum, he says ! i agree............ we eat fish......... the last 2 days are spent in open sea until cartegena. its ok. i dont get sick, suprisingly. it all passes very quickly and interestingly lazy. a storms catches us but we pass from one side , through the silent eye, to the other side and out without much grief or panic. Doplins breach in the distance then arrive by our side, showing off and amazing us. Cartagena arrives on the nightime horizon, lighting it all up. Im here at last. Colombia. what does that name bring to your mind ??? 3 days and we have almost sorted out getting the bike stamped in legally. My camera is ruined by the dingy nearly sinking on a row to an islands shore. Stories of the road from cali to popayan being blockaded by angrey indigenious are floating around cartagena. bombs going off. Im told that soldiers in leather boots are fine , but soldiers in wellys are not, get the hell out quick if i manage to find them. Colombia drew with brazil last night in a world cup qualifier in brazil. a great result and great game. patricks birfthday last night. a top night wandering around the old colonial city, to to beautiful. i will say all in the post before riding the gaunlet south.

Koaliman - san blas
as above pic
patrick and belly flops dolphin friends
Kaoliman - san blas

another looming storm in the open seas

desires to be stranded
voodoo live in the san blas
panama city san blas starfish
food time on board the Zao
san blas

Portabello fortress. Francis drakes final resting place.
loading the bikes Puerto lindo - panama
its all to lazy !

Leonardo and mirra the pup

a stowaway

http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docid=-1492847911073114711&hl=en&fs=true (click to see short footage of the bikes being loaded on and off the sail boat)

Settled at home while Simon sails the Caribbean

Two different images then you have been looking at. I arrived back in Leadville 2 weeks ago to see fall has taken hold and winter is knocking at the door. It has been 3 weeks since Si went right and i went left in Tepic, as I have been reading Si's post I have been jonesen for a Latin American fix, but happy to be back.

I basically followed the same route back with my first stop in San Blas and a visit to La Contaduia Fort and a great view from the walls of the fort. I then continued north to Mazatlan, entering the city from the south along the beach road. Thanks to Ignacio, a kind gentalman i meet at the gas station finding my way was easy as i followed him to Auga Verde, were he was going to buy shrimp. When we arrived in Auga Verde Ignacio introduced me to a couple of his friends and i explained what Fragile X Pedition was about and we parted ways. great people in Mexico.  I continued on to Mazatlan were I spent a couple of nights to kick back and enjoy the beach and great weather, no rain. The first night I was there as I was walking home I saw turtles on the beach which were laying eggs. Way cool.

From Mazaatlan I made my way north to Los Mochis and the tiny port town of Topolobampo were I spent the night of Mexican Independence day. I first went out to Topolobampo, only to be told there would be no rooms until 5. I went back to Los Mochis and looked around for a room. However, due to the Fiesta about to happen all were booked, so after 2 hours of looking and being told no vacancy, I returned to as fate would have it and found a great room at the Hotel Marina. Then that night i was treated to a great performance by the town's people celebrating there Independence from the Spaniards. It was a great 4 hour performance in the square of children adults and seniors. What a great experience.

From there to Hermosillo and back to the states at Nogalas. I spent a few more days at Debbie''s house in Phoenix, thanks Deb. I then was elated to get a call from John my good friend and fellow KLR rider that he would ride down and ride back with me. So I got going again and meet John in Toas, New Mexico and we camped a few nights and rode back to Colorado. I made it a little more then 5000 miles with nothing more then a rear flat just 300 miles from home. Not a problem, tire off old tube out new tube in except, I decide to leave the pump behind since Simon had one. Thanks to John i was able to put a a couple of his CO2 cartridges in and we were back on the rode in about a hour. Not bad for a couple of amateurs.

It was a great adventure and with any luck now a few more people are aware of Fragile X and with any luck they will open the ever shrinking wallets when they decide to give a little this year. Well enough for now, I will add some more pictures and along with the rest of you wait to hear from Simon. Thanks for reading and Si thanks for letting me tag along.

not quite in colombia yet, but almost !

Just a few days away from sailing around coastal curves and islands to get to cartagena, colombia. Its nuts that theres only about 100 miles from the last section of road in panama to the border with colombia. Its possible to cross, only for the really fruitcake adventurous. The darien gap. i have mentioned it before. jungle, cartels, right wing and left wing guerillas, natives and mozzies carrying all the famous flesh, bone and brain rotting bacterea. Its a case of dragging the bike through gator rivers by your teeth. SOOOO my options are a boat or a plane. a plane cost too much ! so its the boat. I have met another rider. Omer, seen above sorting his KLR out. A new front tyre. Omer is from israel. he is riding down to ushuaia also. we are sort of scheduled to sail the sail boat, with captain Guido and his merrymen (well, i think he isnt alone)... from the paradise port of puerto lindo, atlantic panama. the trip takes 5 days, stopping off on the various san blas islands, to meet the native kuna tribes. The boat is a yacht as far as i know. A chunder bucket with me on board i am guessing....... I have a new back tyre, after searching at least 7 bike shops here in panama city. it isnt the needed dual sport knobby needed, but more like an R6 road gripper. i dont care as long as it gets me to at least cali, colombia, where i will sort out a knarley knobby to tackle the dirt of the andes. The last shop i found "Panama ATV STORE" were incredible in helping me find that elusive 17inch 5.10 tyre. what a nightmare we had. They rang around everywhere for 2 hours only to find that sticky rubber that fit. Luis the ATV manager actually drove to where ever and fetched the tyre. I have to say a million thanks to pete and luis and oriel for that help. A new battery was needed as the bike was coughing up an exhausting cry for help in starting. so a quick sighting of a huge battery shop helped there. Panama city is fast paced as they all are. a million cabs all leaning on their horns at the same time. brightly painted grafitti buses, driven by devils, screach in to every stop. ladies of the night smile and follow me everywhere. water ways on the road shoulder deep as a small man, to take away the downpours. humidity like never before- The lap tops are not, that, cheap here. the local larger , atlas, is 50 pence a bottle. pork in a thick tasty gravy with mixed rice. a boring hotel with miserable staff, sent me rushing to an atmospheric jamaican based hostel full of freindly israelies. states peeps and panamanians. free internet and smiles at the reception. A friendly ambitious chap named richard from elephant and castle. jimmy the cheeky cabbie trying to sell me the ladies in his life. All in all a great city with some sort of canal. think i crossed over that, via the bridge of the americas, overwelmed of the fact that man did that ! . Visited Aon panama aswell. THe 27th floor of a tall building named the generali tower. Situated in the heart of the busy financial district. I was welcomed and all listened to tails of the FXPedition. I am guessing at saying 50 staff ??.. top news from london ! the FXP has been mentioned in the business insurance europe magazine ! ... the awareness continues !! thank you amelia and alan. Also thank you so much Reuben ! at Aon dev sq. for keeping me posted and helping out !
financial area panama city
2 venezuelan adventurers - on their way home from alaska
the generali tower - floor 27 for aon - panama city
Meeting the aon panama employees.

entering phase 3

Guatemala city was hard to leave. Not because i had grown emotionaly attached to the city., but because it was physically hard to leave. A massive city. The roads are in easy block formations on the inside, but as the city has grown outwards, different formations have evolved around it, making it confusing to the innocent. Also they had decided to throw sporadic street parties, which looked fun, with kids laughing and families smiling, but i wanted out quick again. I am developing a phobia to these magnifcant cities. The roads being closed all over, had actually speeded up the traffic. people wanted to get their destinations quicker and madder than usual, im sure. Being interupted out of their usual ways of going...... I was definatly feeling vulnerable. witnessing to tragaties the day before coming into the city had left me a bit soft. A kind of shock was hanging around. The city doesnt care. It seemed to take moons to get back into the greenhills, moisture and mist , so familiar in central america. A complete contrast to the great city. 150 miles north easterly on caraterra CA9 to stay in the border town chuquimula. it didnt take long to feel myself again and shake off the shock. riding through the scenery, new faces smiling, car horns sounding with thumbs up and wonder, always fills out a dented spirit with quick ease. rolling into chuquimula my steering went stiff and didnt flow from side to side. "oh me gawd, is this a blown head baring ?". as it happens a macdonalds turns up and after a big mac meal had sucked me in and thoughts of what now, i found the radiator cover had somehow bent out, sticking out forwards catching the high front mudguard. nothing a few cable ties couldnt sort out. with relief i rolled into chuquimula to more street festivities. people all over the roads and pavements. cars at a standstill. multicoloured , small doors to the pavement terraced buildings. simple wooden window shutters all open. i cant help being nosy. Im lost riding around the town for an hour. forgetting i need a room. loving the atmosphere of this colourful town. A kind man finds me, in typical gutemala style and leads me to a hotel. no vancancies. so i find one i had just seen. Hotel posada don adan. a room, a shower, air con, and a locked gate to stash the bike behind. all for 5 pounds equivilant. If you are ever heading across that border at el florido - copan ruinas, you must stay at the place. near the main plaza. ask someone. the town is perfect as the sun goes down behind the local hills.

sitting here now in panama after a few more border crossings, i have almost got used to them. now its getting comical. the same process, but all unique. guat to honduras was easy, no need for help. a stamp for me and the bike, to leave then the same to enter. immagracion then aduana , customs..... honduras was a sinuous perfection of no pot holes roads. through the mountains. all seems reserved though. gone have the car horns and thumbs up. just inquisitive eyes. alls calm. into nicaragua, where the horns and thumbs are back. people bending over backwards to help out even when ya dont need any help. ride past lake managua "de donde va" everyone shouts at me and i shout something back in my shattered mockney spanish. we all smile and laugh. another kind chap finds me lost and leads me out of managua onto the CA1. I get lost again. i find 3 people with a mini bike. i stay with them an hour. they are facinated and facinating. San marcos is their town. more beautiful peeling paintwork in pastal multi colours. Next stop a costa rica beach. most speak english. it easier explaining why im there and what im doing. a man places a link on his global web site to the fxp. Costa rica is very much the paradise you see in films. bizare sounds through the night. heavy rains for an hour. sunsets amazing.mind you there is always a limit to a mans listening to reggae. So then. im in panama. just met TJ and his wife precila. they live here and like what i am doing. their daughter works with autistic kids. we shall contact each other. i need a new back tyre. this ones finally left after 10500 miles. a boat or plane to colombia also. im not sure of the best option yet. next stop south america.
volcan, nicaragua

guatemala
guatemala
nicaragua
nicaraguan mates
the beach costa rica

border crossings - a joy to the insane !

The above photo is of a small bay at bahias de huatulco, mexico. It is a bay surrounded in history and folklore. In 1587 the english explorer, adventurer, pirate, whatever you want to call him, sailed into this bay, to raid , plunder and generaly cause as much pain to the local spanish settlers as possible. There was a cross built on the beach, which is surrounded in its own mystical history as apparently an apostle of jesus arrived with timber on his shoulders , from the sea. this was 2000 years before mr cavendish audatiously arrived, sword in hand. The apostle, said be saint thomas apostle erected the huge cross on his own and deemed it very holy. Mr cavendish then arrives in 1587 with his small ship and merry english men, plunders the town and trys his hardest to destroy the catholic symbol on the beach, him being of newly found protestant faith. Axes and swords were used to destroy the cross, that didnt do the job. He tied a rope from the cross to his ship, that didnt work. after all that effort he tried to burn the timber to ashes. No joy there either. Apparently the Oaxaca catherdral, some miles north of the bay has a chair made from that very undestroyed timber, still sitting there, rairly noticed by worshipers and tourists alike. This is a beautiful part of the mexican pacific coastline. Another place i felt like putting my feet up at. A posh resort for the money merchants. I didnt stay for to long. Off along the coast line to salina cruz for the night . A large shipping city, industrial smoke, constant clatter of iron, dust dancing in the air, and some incredible views of the surrounding bays from the hill sides. I managed to sample some pasta there, which i savoured. As the border was nearing the traffic became less dense. Fewer trucks rumbling past inches away, tugging at the stickers on my panniers. the hills to the north became jagged green mountains. the wind became relentless and hard. a cross wind that had me leaning into it riding at 45 degrees. More military check points appeared. Each one asking me poilitly if i was carrying guns. Looking into my panniers and wondering why im out there. All soldiers interested in what fragile x syndrome is. All of them taking my flyers and taking time to read them. walking away with a sticker also. The rains came again in the afternoon. flooded towns and skinny soaked dogs sat by the road, uncaring. I pulled into a gas stop in the rain to meet 3 riders. the first since canada. all mexicans from the town of tapachula, close to the border. I rode with them, which was a bit of luck due to the lack of visibility in the misty rain. they had bright hazard lights which i just followed. After chats on the syndrome and why im there we grasped hands with that bonding rock stlye hand shake and they splashed away into my history. I had a few hours daylight left so i though i would get as close to the border as possible and kip the night. The borders have many people just hanging around . not chatting just waiting. they all waved to me. i waved back only to see them all come running over to me, pushing each other aside and barking aggresive spanish at each other. these people i found out to be "tramistadors" helpers to naive people wanting to cross the border. they can either cut crossing time down or i spose run off with all your papers. I managed to keep them at bay and find a room for the night. the tramistadors were also staying there. Next day, off the border early. 8pm. stamped my passport out for me then i looked for the stamping out for the bike office. nowhere to be seen. After stressful conversations with more helpers, it turns out i had to ride 30 miles back to the nearest city to find the aduana office to get my bike exit stamp. soooooo 2 hours later im back nearing the border, racing ahead of the legions pf tramistadors chasing me on smaller bikes, likely for me. i had the edge ! a 20mph edge !! passed the mexican exit again, over the no mans land bridge and into guatemala territory. The immagracion office is right there. the first place to go. a man comes upto me all offical like and asks for my passport, i hand it to him he scarpers ! i drop the bike on its right side again and chase him. hes just around the corner in a line. the linbe i should be in with my own passport. he ignores my pleas of "give me back my passport". im charged 1 USA dollar to enter guatamala at this window. Thats it its to late im a victim of the tramistador, after all the previous nights avoiding and that morings rracing away from them. i ask him how much this cost me. he ignores me. then another bloke appears, hes there to keep my attention off the helper, who by now has all my neccessary papers. the bike registration, international drivers licence etc. All in all it was a very quick service, using these bods. they ripped me off with the price of entry, by $40. but i was out o fthere and into guatemala in an hour. I wished i had done it all myself, finding th eright buildings and offices, but alas. i have learned a few lessons. Honduras border tomorrow, so lets see me get strong and stay calm. Guatemala. the continuation of the mexican green mountains. the roads have deteriarated and got much much faster. there are less dead animals by the road side. i think the skill it takes to dodge pottholes the size of cows has helped keep the animal population of guatemala alive. Its a short ride to guatemala city. a notorious city. which lives upto its reputation, believe me. Night fell , i found a hotel in a safe part of town ,they say. It has been safe. all the guatemalans i have met so far, on chocolate stops on route and here in the city have been very friendly and inquisitive. My front caliper fell off , coincidently outside a moto repair shop. the chap comes out no words and just fixes it for me. i gave him money for his wonderfulness. Opened the curtains this morning to see the city quiet. all still asleeep . the horizon holding 3 volcanos. all breathing a gentle stream of thin smoke heading in the same direction. they to are still asleep. I found the Aisfa building in guatemala city. easier on a sunday morning. It looks like the company there is not called Aon. They are called AISFA. they are listed in the aon directory as an aon office. No one was in, but i took some pics of the building.
mexcian pacific outside salina cruz
guatemala city on a sunday morning
the aisfa building - a sister company to aon - guatemala city
as above