I'm pretty sure it will make it. The bike only has a hundred thousand miles, it isn't all that many... The flying bricks are indestructible. Its been meticulously maintained. That was all the rationalizing that I needed. Solo to Panama. I started in DC the first week of September and here I am sitting in Panama City. The bike: 1985 BMW K100, somewhere around 100k miles. Its the second speedo (the previous owner estimated it around there from the service records). I couldn't be more happy with how she performed. Never let me down, no issues the entire way. It refused to electric start twice (water got somewhere) but it started rolling with the help of a couple locals pushing me down the street. It dried out and hasn't come up again. Starting in Washington DC. The first stop would be the Outer Banks, NC to spend a little time with the family. I would plan the way down to the Mexico from there. The beginning, Washington DC. It was a pleasant ride down to OBX. I've done it many times before in a car, but cruising over the causeway on a bike was much preferred. I have to say that Ocracoke still holds a certain allure no matter how many beaches I visit. Family vacation is over, time for the real adventure. I drove across the entirety of NC in a day. Stayed just outside of Great Smokey National Park. From there it was just outside of Memphis TN, my plan was to do the states quickly and spend the majority of my time in Mexico and Central America. Decided to travel to Dallas in two days and found my way to Hot Springs National Park, Arkansas. A cool area once you get by all the urban sprawl. Not sure if the spring water helped fuel my ride, but it couldn't have done any harm. The row of bathhouses from where the hot springs are drawn. The men's changing room, not too shabby. The entire area has this great throwback feel to it. Hot spring fountains dot the area. Camping at De Gray Lake, Arkansas Made it down to Texas and spend a few days with a cousin. The BBQ places were great down there. Anyone else have a love affair with a Dirty Love Burger? Who doesn't love giant spurs along the sidewalks? Cruising down to Corpus Christi, I'm anxious to get out of the states and into Mexico. The last night in the states before making the jump south of the border. The continuation of the trip will be added in the following days as I'm sitting around Panama City trying to sell her and catch a sailboat to Colombia. If anyone wants to meet up I'm at Luna's Castle in Casco Viejo. Yeah, I'm prepared for some flack of not continuing on, but Christmas beckons. -Luke
I had a K100. Great MC. Mine had 70K when I traded it to a Dr in FA for a CR500. It will make it fine. You have a tire kit right? Fuel pump mucho beuno? Tires bueno? Have fun, stand by to be chastised for not wearing pants and boots.
Wow, awesome! I always wanted a K100. Classic, like a Volvo 244turbo. We have a group of four in Xela, Guatemala who are making a rapid push toward Panama City this coming weekend. Several of the group are getting on a boat to Colombia, as well. You will probably be out of there by the time we get there. We are hoping for an arrival of October 7th. if you are still in town, let's hang and swap stories. How was your Honduras experience? Any recent lessons learned between Guatemala and Panama?
So this weekend I bought another '85 K100 and thought it only right to send my old one some love by finishing this report. I’ll mainly be throwing in pictures with some commentary on aspects of the trip that deserve it. I’ve been itching for doing another trip, but this will have to suffice for now. (This trip started September 2008 - End of December 2008) <o></o> Here is a map that I put together of the trip, it is split for whatever reason so clicking on the link and then on page two will show you the end of the trip. 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mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--><o></o> Mexico: <o></o> I really only had one real destination in Mexico, that was Cordoba, Veracruz where I stayed with a host family (lovely host sister) for a summer back in 2002. Other than that someone recommend hitting up Gomez Farias so a spent a night there enjoying the higher cool altitude and verdant forest. The first road in Mexico after fighting through Matamores and hauling ass towards Cuidad Victoria for my first night in Mexico. I was coming from Corpus Cristi racing the sun and really didn't want to break my rule of not riding at night the first day. The road was nice and I was cruising at around 80mph when a hot woman wearing a red dress in a 5 series comes up next to me like I was stopped. I remember this distinctly. She looks over, I wave, she smiles, she puts the hammer down and suddenly I find myself playing catchup to this girl going 95mpg for the better part of a 10 minutes. She turned off somewhere along the way, and I kept going. It may have set the stage for the rest of the days to come. Riding fast and chasing women south of the border. <o></o> City center Ciudad Victoria at dusk. Vista riding south from Cuidad Victoria Gomez Farias city center My second night in Mexico, a small hotel in El Cielo biological reserve. Great view off the back. The grounds Cerro del Bernal, view from carretera #80. A pleasant surprise. Not much of note going down through Tampico heading towards Tuxpan. I got pulled over about halfway through Tampico, (first of many) a traffic cop waved me over. Stupidly, I pulled over spent the next 20 minutes listening and looking at his little book that showed motorcycles weren't allowed in the left lane. The book showed 75 dollars or something ridiculous and going to the local police dept to pay it. I speak a fair amount of Spanish which in some cases is more of a hindrance than anything. I kindly told him that there is no way I'm going to station to pay and wouldn't it be better for both of us if I just "paid" it now. He agreed, slipped him a $10, received more scolding and how dangerous it is to be in the fast lane, blah blah, and was off. Happy to be in Tuxpan. Catching a water ferry to check out the Mexican Cuba Friendship Museum. Said museum: wikipedia: 'Tuxpan was also the port of departure for the yacht (Granma) that was used to transport Fidel Castro, his brother Raúl, Che Guevara and other fighters of the Cuban Revolution from Mexico to Cuba in 1956 for the purpose of overthrowing the regime of Fulgencio Batista.' It was actually a decent destination with some various relics. What motorcycle trip wouldn't be complete without a little Che? And after being asked for about the millionth time by a multitude of people, yes my trip is just like "The Motorcycle Diaries" and of course secretly I wish I was Che. After Tuxpan it was down past Veracruz (spent some time there while studying zipped past it), and into my lovely host sister's arms in Cordoba. I hadn't been in the Cordoba for 7 years and didn't really know exactly where their house was. I had emailed her about a week before and hadn't heard anything back, but what the hell this is an adventure. I knew her house was by the white paint factory where they produce the paint that goes on all the tree trunks. Other than that I had very little. I tried to use google maps satellite view to find the paint factory but it was pretty much useless. I pulled off the highway at the first exit for Cordoba, the intent was to do a moderate search before it got dark. If I couldn't find it, then I would just go get a hotel for the night and try again the next day. Repeat as necessary. Turns out there was a construction detour off of the main road that took me to a T. It all looked very familiar, I hung a right thinking this looks like their street. A few blocks down was their house. It really was a miracle, literally 10 minutes after getting off the highway I was parked at their house without knowing where to go. There was a hell of a welcome, tears, hugs. And after everyone regained their composure they asked me where everyone else was. I told them it was just myself and they stared in disbelief. I spent the next few hours eating, drinking, and reminiscing. It was good to be 'home'. The generosity of the family is really second to none. During my first stay with them, my Spanish was in shambles, communication was difficult and the culture was foreign. During that stay, they honestly did become my family. They wished to be called hermana, mama, papa. And that they became. Going out with the crew that night. A nice ratio. My host brother and cousin took me up to the top of the local mountain, to watch the sunset with a couple 40ozs and chicas. The entire crew. After a few days the road was calling, and it was by far the hardest departure of the entire trip. Hugs, kisses, tears as I left, as I promised i'd return in the future. (This summer perhaps?) I burned through the rest of Mexico heading for the northern boarder of Belize. This is where the K100 really was at home. I took the toll roads mainly, and realized that really only the wealthy can afford to. The roads were pristine heading towards the Yucatan and the old girl ate up the miles. The bike was really at home keeping up with traffic which averaged 90-100 mph all day long. One long abandoned streak I decide to see what the silver German princess was made of, took her up to 120 and watched the landscape turn into a blur. She was insatiable and wanted more, but I backed her off. Got to love the flying brick. I spent a night in Villahermosa (bypass if you can) its just a large, dirty, oil boom city. Then made my way to Chetumal to prepare for the crossing into Belize. Lots of these style suspension bridges. Villahermosa In all her splendor
Belize & Guatemala<o></o> I was supposed to meet up with a friend in Belize, that fizzled out and Id figured that I would spend more time in Guatemala and further south. I got through the border without any difficulty. I had read Daveg's postings which were very in-depth and an invaluable resource. Actually printed out his border crossing notes and reviewed them before the crossings. It didn't completely remove the anxiety of a crossing but helped a bunch. I spent two evenings in San Ignacio just relaxing and hoping to find some sort of scene to drink a few beers and talk to interesting people. Word was that the boarder crossing was washed out and I would need to wait a few days for the water to go down. It was evidently the off season, because the town was pretty much deserted. I went to the local bar, played some Holdem with a few people and that was pretty much as crazy as it got. This was just the calm before the storm before hitting Guatemala. I got word that everything was open and off I went. Lovely day of riding in Belize Some local roads around San Ignacio Looking tough Lot of rain the previous couple days. I headed out of San Ignacio and my plan was to go straight to Tikal. The road on the Guatemalan side after the border was interesting to say the least. It was primary white clay as far as I could tell and with all the rain recently it was just a shit show. I made it to Tikal without difficulty in the early evening and heard from some others that it was possible to buy an evening ticket, tour for a few hours and then it would still be good for the next day. It was a great way to see the park, watching the sun go down on top of the largest pyramid. There was probably about 8 of us up there hanging out none of us looking forward to walking back in the darkness, let alone walking down those steps. A Colombian couple that I met early in the day hired a guide which allowed them to stay after dark. They invited me and the remaining group to join them in seeing the park by night. Awesome. The couple was also into motorcycles and had done from California to Alaska if I remember on a GS. We got to climb pyramids in the twilight (not for the faint of heart) and even went up one that was off limit because someone had fallen off recently. Also awesome. We all road back to the hotel at Tikal in the back of the guides pickup, talk about service. It was a Jewish holiday I believe and that night the Israelis invited us to have dinner with them. Some swimming then bed. Token Tikal Shot. About this road for future travelers. The road to Tikal is basically a speed trap. Some of the nicest tarmac I saw the entire trip and I damn well made use of it. They hand you a ticket when you enter with a time stamp. At the end they look at the time, knowing how long it should take. I didn't realize this as I was traveling and proceed to ride the hell out of it going somewhere around 60-80mph. A sweet ride. I got to the other end of the checkpoint in some absurdly short time. The guard looks at my card, looks at his watch, eyes go wide open, looks at his watch, taps on his watch to and reads it again, show's his buddy the slip. His buddy is equally amazed. I realize now whats going on. Oh shit. How much is this going to cost me. I'm going to have to pay off him and his buddy. Playing it cool, I tell him that my bike has a mind of its own and rev the engine a bit and smile. He asked me how many CC it was and I told him 1000. Mierda he said, laughed and said go ahead in and not to do that again. Hotel at Tikal (the farthest one from the entrance) well worth the money La Cieba The stairs are intense. Sun is setting Camera took in a lot more light than what it looked like with the human eye. Some scale of the steps Night time in Tikal Pickup ride Toured around the next day with some American's from DC. One of them grew up in Guatemala and provided some help during the tour in Spanish. Next up Flores and Semuc Champey.
From Tikal I spent a night in Flores and had dinner with three guys that were also motorcycling down to Tierra del Fuego. Dan, Mike, and Shannon. Dan and Shannon were riding down together and joined Mike somewhere along the way. Mike was actually in Cordoba, MX volunteering at an orphanage for a month. Small world. Dan's blog is here http://peschiodesign.com/blog/ looks like Shannon got pretty tore up in South America. I would eventually meet up with Mike randomly on the streets of Antigua. Which really happened time and time again. I seemed to have impeccable luck at just being at the right spot at the right time. Flores was fine for a night, an interesting island city but my ambitions laid further south. A friend who was in the Peace Corps recommended that I could not miss Semuc Champey. So that was my next destination. Well worth it. I've read quite a few ride reports and it seems most people pass this stop over, I'd highly recommend it for anyone traveling down. Catching a ferry en-route to Coban. The ride to Lanquin, Guatemala (village near Semuc Champey) was probably the best of the trip so far as far as scenery and the road. Curve after beautiful curve. There were times when I wished I had more of a dual sport, but jumping on the throttle coming out of a turn wasn't one of them. Amazing how the trees change at higher elevations. I stayed at the El Retiro Finca & Lodge which is definitely the place to go if you want to drink, party, and carry on. The owner is an Irish guy. Cheap happy hours, interesting people. Lots of booze. I will say that you attract a lot of attention driving a large motorcycle in Central America. Most of it good, some of it bad. A day after arriving, most of the small town heard about my exploits, wanted to sit on the bike, bought me pop. It was really uncanny. My accommodation. Second floor on the right. The rickety ladder was not conducive to climbing up drunk in the wee hours of the morning. Happy Hour... I rode the big bike to the entrance of the park the next day which was an adventure in and of itself. The road was rough and extremely steep at times and parts were paved for that reason. Its nice to be 6'5" at times. View from way up high. Best part about driving yourself there, when the tour bus leaves its just you. Actually that's the best part of having your own transportation. No schedules! From here it was on to Antigua, Guatemala. I've heard horror stories of riding through Guatemala City. Hours of being lost, rough neighborhoods, complete lack of signage... I can say that most of it is true. It is extremely hard to navigate, I was only using a compass and a road map of Central America. It was useless in the city. The main road dumps you off in the city and its up to you to find your way through it. I'd mainly stop and ask for directions when I got to a junction and had no clue. Only one time did I feel unsafe, a local told me that I better turn around and get the hell out of this zone. I promptly turned around. I read daveg's posting earlier about getting mugged at gunpoint in Guatemala so I was a bit wary. Eventually I made it to Antigua. I believe that I stayed at the same place that igorshen stayed. It had the highest rooftop in the entire city and made for some great morning coffee atmosphere. There are tons of Antigua photos out there far better than mine, but i'll share this one. Randomly I ran into two other riders from the states that were doing a similar journey to mine. I was sitting in Riley's an Irish Bar (common theme) and started talking to Nathan who he and his girlfriend Lindsie were working making some cash to continue on their journey. I had read daveg's report and actually saw a few pictures of and heard of their story when dave got held up. Again another completely random encounter that worked out for the best as they were leaving Antigua in a week and we would later ride together. New Zealand Bird And who could forget the Brazilian models doing a shoot in Antigua. The next day I while walking through town, I heard the distinct roar of a large displacement motorcycle. Standing at a corner, randomly three large GS's cross the street followed by Mike on his silver KTM. Who I met in Flores. He sees me standing there, I wave to him. Later I find a note on my motorcycle which was parked on the street during the day of where he was staying at. Two days later we met early in the morning to continue onward to Honduras. The group was Me, Mike, and two french couples on their heavily ladened GS's. The other GS was a Mexican couple touring around Guatemala who didn't ride on with us. I really like this shot. All these decked out, crazy expensive motorcycles, any my old bmw which I picked up for 2 grand. Whatever problems my K100 had had been addressed 80,000 miles beforehand. BTW does anyone have any contact info for Mike? A nice guy and looks like he make it all the way to Tierra del Fuego. The plan was we were all going to ride into Guatemala City and stop at the BMW dealer where the French couples were going to have a bit of service and Mike was going to swap out his tires. I had never ridden in a pack of bikes before so it was a hell of a lot of fun having four big bikes riding together. Drew a lot of attention as we tore up the mountainsides to Guatemala City. This day was really a cluster fuck, spent an hour or two driving around Guatemala City trying to find the BMW dealer, the French couple had coordinates which turned out to be as useless as my compass and map was. I will say that I did get a full tour of Guatemala City though. The Torre del Reformador wasn't in my sights to see, but what the hell lets drive underneath it while lost. Looking back, I think the French just missed the Eiffel Tower and plotted our course underneath it. Eventually we do end up making it to the BMW dealership where we proceed to spend the next 6 hours! Perhaps some other people on the boards have had a decent experience here, but besides the head honcho in the service department everyone else was a complete lackey. They really should have just stuck to washing the bikes and not working on them. I'm not sure what the French were having done, but it took three hours. During the process of changing Mike's tires they lost one of the bushings in the rear wheel. Lord knows how, they were rolling it around the building when it fell out somewhere. The dealer tried to get another one from the KTM dealer but didn’t want to fork out the money to buy a new bushing as evidently they had to buy all five and it was too expensive for them. Who knows, they were just stalling I think. Finally they found the bushing; it fell into a storm drain. They popped it back in and everything was hunky dory. Six painful hours we were back on the road fighting rush hour traffic trying to make our way to the Honduran border. A side note on this, during the time we were sitting outside the dealership, waiting for them to remove their head from out of their asses, a teal new style mini cooper pulls into the parking lot with two large black suburbans. One was in front the other behind. A guy gets out of the mini and goes into the dealership, one of the guys in the suburban jumps into the mini and turns it around for the owner. The owner of the mini was probably inside 10 minutes, being curious Mike and I check out the mini. On the passenger seat is a huge god damn revolver just sitting out in the open. I don’t know too much about guns, but it looked like a .38 or .45. A proper hand cannon. Mike and I are like who is this guy? Obviously someone important… Out he comes, see that we aren’t locals and shakes our hand and asks us how we are doing, what brings us into Guatemala. We tell him we’re riding motorcycles down and visiting the country. He is glad that we are enjoying Guatemala and is happy to hear we were having a good time. He jumps in the mini and takes off nestled in between the suburbans. He was a really nice guy , very warm. Instantly I go inside and start asking the employees of the dealership who that man was. It was none other than the Mayor of Guatemala and former President of Guatemala, Alvaro Arzú, Guatemala’s most prominent political figure. And by all accounts a great mayor. http://www.citymayors.com/mayors/guatemala_mayor.html BMW dealerships in third world countries, always interesting. Looking back, meeting the Mayor/Ex-president was one highlight of the trip and probably worth the hell endured that day. It was getting late as we made our way across Guatemala, there was no way we were going to make it into Honduras at this point. Reluctantly I joined the consensus that we needed to stop for the night. I was supposed to meet a friend in La Cieba, Honduras the next evening which meant a extremely long ride the next day. Before going to bed, everyone was of the mind that we would be leaving at 8 am because I had 400 miles the next day to make it where I needed to be. I got up early along with Mike and one of the French couples, we had breakfast at a local restaurant nearby. It was getting close to 8 and we were all gearing up ready to leave. At 7:55am the other French couple leisurely rolls out of bed, and down to where we are. I ask if they have already eaten and are ready to go. They reply nonchalantly and seem a tad put-off that I would even suggest leaving now. They tell me, as they would tell a child, that they require breakfast and coffee and couldn't possibly leave for another hour. WTF, I just stare blankly at them. They were only going to Copan, Honduras which was close, but a plan is a plan as far as I was concerned. The others looked at each other and everyone showed they were irritated. I had pretty much had it by this point with this couple. Between me waiting patiently the day before and their general disregard for anyone but themselves, i was ticked. I'm normally pretty even keeled, I'm also Irish/German, (read: when I get hot, i get hot) I was ready to toss this little French man into a nearby ditch. As they were starting breakfast, I shook hand with Mike, bid adieu to the nice couple, and let the other couple enjoy their croissants as I burned out onto the highway. I was a bit disappointed that I was riding alone, I had heard bad things about the Honduran border and had 400 miles ahead of me before the sunset.
[FONT="]It turned out my friend was a day late anyway after discovering that her passport had accidently been swapped with a roommates and hers was expired on top of that. In her own adventure, she got a new passport in a few hours and boarded a plane that day. It is nice living in DC for no other reason than passports and embassies. <o></o>[/FONT] [FONT="]I made it to La Cieba in the evening and stayed at The Paris Hotel or something along those lines (It was on the northern side of the central square). The border wasn’t too bad; it seems the El Salvadorian side is much worse. I spent about an hour getting papers signed, stamped, and it lightened my wallet quite a bit as well. From there it was all pretty much smooth sailing in Honduras. The roads were quite nice all the way up north to San Pedro Sula east to El Progresso and further over to La Cieba. I enjoyed the hotel pool after a grueling 12 hour ride, slept soundly that night. <o></o>[/FONT] [FONT="]The next day I would meet up with Cindy, who was staying in San Pedro Sula, at the Ferry Terminal to catch a ride to Roatan. The plan was to spend a week out there learning to snorkel and enjoying the beaches. There is a high speed boat that makes the journey in about an hour and a half which is great. I’d recommend getting their early because I showed up a half hour before departure and they said there was no room on the ferry for my bike. Cindy was already boarded and I could see her sitting in her seat. I frowned and waved to her as she left, she was terribly confused as to why I was still standing on dry land while she was traveling solo over to Roatan. Great! <o></o>[/FONT] [FONT="]I had 6 hour to kill before the next departure, so I went on a beach tour further east of La Ceiba. Ended up going to a beach east and waited at a small beach restaurant in the middle of nowhere. Met some locals that offered to take me to a swimming hole nearby and I thought what the hell. That or they would jump me in the middle of nowhere and take all my stuff. Either way onward! Miles up this deserted road I came to a jungle style inn where we jumped off huge rocks into a river. Its located somewhere here on the Rio Cangrejal south of La Cieba. There were a few adventure tour/accomidation places along the river. It was really peaceful and beautiful.<o></o>[/FONT] http://maps.google.com/maps?ll=15.726831,-86.736116&spn=0.069647,0.132093&t=h&z=14&lci=com.panoramio.all [FONT="]Finally caught the ferry and by the time I got across, got my bike loaded up, it was already dark. The owner of the ferry loved my bike, offered to buy it right there for 4,000 USD. He always wanted a BMW. I was hoping for a grand or so in Panama City. Damn, I still had half a trip to go… In true adventuring spirit I drove in the dark trying to find the accommodation that Cindy and I had reserved. I made it, plopped down into bed and fell asleep. It was a nice week. I got scuba certified, its rather cheap there in Roatan and no bullshit swimming pools and all that. <o></o>[/FONT] [FONT="]All was well until the tropical depression settled right over top of Honduras and the passage to Roatan.[/FONT] [FONT="]Have to mind the landslides [/FONT] [FONT="] Really should have used the DSLR instead of the point and click while riding. [/FONT] [FONT="] [/FONT] [FONT="]Miles and miles of palm plantations the original banana republic. [/FONT] [FONT="] Roatan! 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{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> [FONT="]The tropical depression shut down all transportation between the island and the mainland. On top of that the fast ferry was out of commission for two weeks for yearly maintenance. On top of that Roatan had civil unrest because of the raising of electricity rates. Picketers had blocked off the main road to the airport and shipping port. WTF. Cindy ended up missing her flight, and I talked her into riding to Nicaragua with me and flying out there. What the hell, we’ll just strap your bag on the back. So that’s what we did. Having to get off the island, 10 days there already, we managed to talk a captain into letting us ride on his cargo ship back to the mainland. The 1.5 hour trip on the way over took 7 hours on the cargo ship. The crew was shady and it looked like they hadn’t seen a woman for a long while. I told Cindy not to leave my side and my knife was easily accessible. We get to shore; it was night, and the depression lets all hell break loose on us. Being a port I had to sign this at the gate, go back to the boat, get the captain to sign a paper and then go back to the gate, all with a torrential downpour. Screw it, the roads are flooded up past the exhaust, we’re soaked and exhausted, straight to the Paris hotel again. I bet they loved us walking in to the lobby dripping wet and making a huge puddle. Una habitacion por favor.[/FONT] [FONT="] "Sorry the captain of this boat isn't leaving today." [/FONT] [FONT="] "Why won't you take us off this cursed island?" [/FONT] [FONT="] We got on this monstrosity [/FONT] [FONT="] Clouds waiting to rain until we disembark. [/FONT] [FONT="]Why am I doing this again? [/FONT] [FONT="] Long story short, we rode all the next day in the rain to D&D Brewery next to Lago Yojoa. We met up with Nate and Lindsie who had departed Antigua. We were a pair of two up riders riding bikes from the early 80's bikes with way too much shit on the back. Nate had a CB750 from 82' I believe, carrying a small banjo and a fiddle, no joke. We were a sight; as Nate would often put it, we were a shit show! [/FONT] [FONT="]We spent a couple days at the Brewery and took in the sights around the lake. Accommodations at D&D Secluded Path They had a nice infrastructure setup First blue sky in over a week We went birding with a great guide Malcolm He was awesome. Birding hippie from the UK. I heard that he played "lord of the rings" with a group. hahaha The team From there we went south. Nate and Lindsie's setup [/FONT] [FONT="] The depression washed out the main road, it was miles and miles of traffic. Yeah seriously you've got to be kidding me. What to do... There was nothing around, it would be days for the river to come down. We suddenly found ourselves with a large group around us admiring our motorcycles and asking us all the normal questions. How much did it cost, how many cc, how fast... Eventually we got to talking about another route to travel on. They said it was possible, not for big vehicles, but for motorcycles and 4x4s. Swell, off-roading two up on 1000lbs ladened street bikes. No other choice, lets do it. One of the better section, there was river crossings, tons of mud. Really good stuff. Some of the worst of the road. Steady as she goes Added on and extra two hours, but we made it. Here is the crew having a well deserved rest. Notice Cindy's helmet, bought it for 20 bucks, it had SAFE written on it in big letters, so you know it wasn't. The sun is setting We eventually made it to San Lorenzo, the shrimp capital of Honduras, where Lindsie defiled their most sacred monument. [/FONT]
My first trip to MX was on a 1985 K100RT. As you have stated bulit proof, the most reliable vehicle I have ever owned. In over 100,000 mi. I have never had a passenger. How does the bike handle 2up? Did you have any problems with vapor lock/overheating. After my last few vacations with the Gs's I am considering using the K bike on my next trip. Truly an epic trip looking foreward to more!
Thanks for the kind words! Glad to see other K travelers out there. The bike performed well with Cindy on the back, she really started to enjoy herself as time went on. After we got her over squeezing the hell out of me during crazy situations everything was good. Nothing like avoiding a car/landslide/animal while in a death lock hug. It was my first experience riding two up for such long distances, stopping is slower, a bit more unwieldy going slow, you adjust. I think some basic passenger advice before getting them on is important. Lean with me, if we go down just stay on the bike and don’t try to keep us upright using your legs, etc. I was never for lack of power even climbing the steepest grades which was awesome. Steep grades can be a real pain in the ass because there are no passing sections and there are always rows of trucks chugging along at 10mph spewing tons of diesel smoke. The trick is to pass as many trucks at once an oncoming car or truck forces you back over. The craziest pass I remember was passing a semi that was also passing a semi all around a curve. It just wouldn’t have been possible without the hp I had on tap. I rode with the Seguin brothers for a time and it really made me appreciate the K100 all that much more. More on that later. I think the Corbin seat is a must on the K bikes; mine also had the small sissy bar which gave Cindy a lot more comfort and security. She could just lean back and enjoy the ride without me leaving her behind when I’d jump off the line. As for the vapor lock, I never had an issue with it. I had read quite a bit on it. Maybe it is more of a problem on the faired bikes? While the wind protection would have been nice, I’ve heard they just roast you. I was more worried about the electronics, all that heavy rain really made me nervous. I’ve always liked classic cars/bikes. It’s easy to get caught up with the latest and greatest. Nitpicking about this and that, in the end it’s always more about the ride than the bike or the destination. On some of the rougher sections Nate and I would be in the frame of mind of ‘shit, let’s just do it’
[FONT="]The next day we made our way into Nicaragua. Just before the border Nate and Lindsey split off and entered a bit further east. They wanted some custom made leather boots, which they heard were quite cheap to have made in Nicaragua. We’d meet up randomly on the island of Ometepe. We never really made plans to meet somewhere, it would just happen. <o></o>[/FONT] [FONT="]Cindy and I pushed on to Leon where we stayed at a cool little hotel that had turtles walking around its courtyard. Cindy’s flight was two days out and we spent a peaceful couple days walking around Leon before making a break for Managua so she could catch her flight. We didn’t really get ourselves much time to get her to the airport so it was a mad dash. I got pulled over at a speed trap the local cops had setup. About four of them sitting around radar gunning, I passed in a no passing zone. Which I did, but there was a plane to catch. With so many of them together, it made it difficult for me to bribe. Basically I just told them I have to catch a flight that leaves in an hour, threw down a $20 on their trunk and said I’m paying my ticket now! They wanted more; I told them it’s all I had. It was the most expensive bribe of the trip. We barely made it to the airport. Say our goodbyes and away she goes. I’m on my own again. [/FONT] [FONT="]Just inside Nicaragua [/FONT] [FONT="]Nice courtyard at the hotel [/FONT] [FONT="]<o>Grounds Keeper In case you forget where you are New riding vest? </o>[/FONT] [FONT="]<o> I caved, though I did get a lot of I really like your shirt from locals </o>[/FONT] [FONT="]My next destination was Granada for a few days then I wanted to catch the ferry to Ometepe. I proceeded to get pulled over three more times going to Granada. It was ridiculous, the first time I didn’t come to a complete stop at a stop sign, the second time I didn’t use my turn signal while making a turn, the last time I didn’t even let him tell me what I did wrong. I was so pissed off at this point I just pulled out 5 bucks held it up, told the guy that I didn’t care what infraction he was going to make up, this was the third time being stopped in 2 hours, and told him to take the money [/FONT][FONT="]ladrón. He did, I sped off. It was almost refreshing just cutting through the bullshit story and saving myself 10 minutes of pissing around.[/FONT] [FONT="] Granada was alright, the nice colonial part of town seemed a bit sterile for me in a way. One big tourist strip, I got the picture of the yellow cathedral and continued on. [/FONT] [FONT="]Pain in the ass getting the bike on this little boat heading for Ometepe. The ferry was done running so this was it. I love the sense of adventure of pushing a bike onto a boat with a 2x8x12 one mishap and my bike is on the bottom of the lake. It was a pleasant ride across. Here is the island. I really grew attached to it after a few days. The locals are much more laid back than the rest of Nicaragua. Its night by the time we make the trip, upon lifting the bike down the workers sheer off the gear shift lever. Great. I end up searching around for someone that can weld in town. Yes, on the BMW its aluminum, no one has the ability to weld it, which I kind of figured. Eventually find a mechanic that knows the owner of the local motorcycle shop. It's late, I'm beat. We take a Kawasaki shifter, widen the opening and make it work. I roll into a hostel, drink a liter of beer and pass out. Next day I decide to do a bit of riding around the island. I need to get out of the town where the ferry docks and decide to ride to the other volcano. These two separate volcanoes are joined by a strip of land that created one large island. I found this great place to stay right on the lake front, the sound of the waves was great in the evenings. Remember that tropical depression? It dumped here as well, the lake was really high. I did a bit of swimming, it was a hell of a lot of fun. There are actually sharks in the lake. Bull sharks can swim up river like a salmon to enter the lake. I thought the locals were just messing with me but I later checked it out to be true... The hotel was on the north side of the east island. The owner was this nice middle aged man that enjoyed talking to me about the German girls that also were staying there. The best part about this was the fact that I was the only guest that spoke Spanish and we would be having this daily conversation with everyone around, including the German girls. The conversation normally turned to how white their skin was, the color of their eyes, their breasts, ass and legs. I encouraged this behavior of course, and told him that the shorter one would sometimes look at him while he was working. I told him that German girls were very strong and powerful, he agreed and his mind wandered. There were three Irish guys staying there as well from Wexford, Ireland. I grew up in Wexford, PA outside of Pittsburgh. Much drinking ensued. These boys could drink; luckily I had been prepping for this moment since beginning this trip. In the end everyone either passed out or went to bed and it was just me sitting outside. I took a last shot of whiskey just because and went to bed. A sloppy night, here they are singing "The Boys of Wexford" everyone got a bit choked up as it was a bit emotional. It commemorates the Irish Rebellion of 1798. It was quite amazing bringing together Wexford boys from two different continents. 'We are the boys of Wexford, Who fought with heart and hand To burst in twain the galling chain And free our native land.' This version is pretty close. It really takes me back. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ecydw0KNxKw All of us did an 8 hour volcanic hike the next morning, god knows why. We didn't realize that they weren't going to serve us breakfast as part of the deal and found ourselves with no food the entire day. Made for an interesting day, someone had a can of coke which we split amongst all 8 of us. The taller German girl bitched the entire time. On the way up A break Amazing view before going into the clouds Dense Jungle No doubt it was a tough hike. Here is the truck on the way back The tall one, always so pleasant. Nate and Lindsey showed up the following day having spotted my bike from the road. Everyone else was headed toward San Juan Del Sur. Nate, Lindsey and I would catch up with them down there but first we discovered a yearly festival on the island with a rodeo. [/FONT][FONT="]Next post, [/FONT][FONT="]a raging bull nearly destroyed both of our bikes and we accidentally ate horse. [/FONT]
This is great, Luke. LOVE IT! Looking forward to the rest. I remember you telling us some of these stories. It's great to see the pictures :)
What a great read! I wish I was on the road and visiting the places you've described so well. Thanks for taking the time to write, download photos and post. We love it! Cheers, Steve
Nate, Lindsie and I decided to try to ride around the east island. The road conditions where terrible. When we were nearly at the point of calling it a day we turned a corner and found a ton of people mingling around. Jackpot. Large tented areas had been setup, girls were all wearing their finest, and the men were all drunk. Not realizing at first what was going on we pulled off and decided to partake in the festivities. Beers were promptly ordered from the typical Rubbermaid outdoor chairs which had years of dirt and grime built up. A rodeo area had been setup in the center of the action, couldn't wait to see what would be going down. The amount of drunks around was pretty intense, it was early in the afternoon and the locals were drinking what appeared to be homemade hard alcohol. Apparently this happens on the weekends one month out of the year, it celebrates a patron saint so we were lucky to have seen this. Nate and I were particularly hungry, the waitress said that the only thing they had left was something that sounded like mabeyo. Some of the locals had a thick accent which made understanding them nearly impossible for any of us. "Sure whatever we'll take that, two plates." Later the plates come back with meat that I didn't recognize, it was particularly pungent and not looking all that appetizing. After having a couple bites, I couldn't get any more down, nor could Nate. It dawned on me that she was saying Caballo. Horse. I imagine it must have been some ancient work horse recently (or not so recently) deceased and now sitting on my plate. About this same time, a random guy came up and told us something about our motorcycle. I couldn't understand a damn thing he was saying. We responded yeah those were our bikes parked on the side of the road on the edge of a gully. He came back about 5 minutes later excitedly saying something about our motorcycles again. "Yeah, they are fine." The entire trip people would always talk about the bikes so we just brushed it off as that. A few minutes after that an American girl who was volunteering on the island told us that the locals kept saying that we had to move our bikes, there was a crowd gathering around the street and the excitement level was growing. People were yelling, shouting, and generally carrying on. We decided that it was a good time to move them after all the insistence. There was a massive amount of people gathered now all of whom were completely wasted. We were a bit tipsy ourselves and weren't planning on getting on the bikes for a while. We fired them up, moved them off by an open area where some other cars were parked. As we are dismounting, cowboys were trotting around the road, whistling and yelling. The crowd roared, it was hitting a crescendo. There must have been around 500 people lined up on both sides of the road. The three of us weren't sure what the hell was going down, and we were starting to get a bit worried. Out of nowhere, running down the street a group of really pissed off bulls! WTF. The cowboys have been provoking them all morning it seemed and they were in a state of blood lust. Right where our motorcycles previously were, the biggest of the bulls goes apeshit. A small vendor stand is absolutely gored. Potato chips and plastic bottles go flying as the entire stand is flipped over and rolls down into the gully. I have visions of the motorcycles being tossed into the ditch. The bull snorts and kicks into the soil looking for more. The three of us look at each other. The crowd cheers and the cowboys lasso the bull and begin getting in under control. Eventually the mini running of the bulls ends and the rodeo starts. We buy tickets and take our spot in the crowd, not really sure what we paid money to see. The local men proceeded to ride the bulls, the macho young men of the community are showing off for the young ladies. The thing is, the bulls are just field animals, thrown into the ring once a year, much to their own dismay I'm sure. Once on top the men would cattleprod the bulls into a fury so they would be more entertaining. This went on for quite some time. All the riders were shitfaced, and I hoped that a bull would get a piece of one or two of the dumb asses that kept provoking them. A good day to ride. This is the dominant bull, the one that thrashed the cart. The crowd. I nearly expected the stands to fall into the ring and all hell break loose. Beers and bull riding. Might be fitting to put in what my Che shirt says. "Muchos me dirán aventurero, y lo soy, sólo que de un tipo diferente: De los que ponen el pellejo para demostrar sus verdades" Roughly "Many will call me an adventurer, and I am, only in a different type: Of those who risk their skins to demonstrate your truths" Here is a video of the rodeo ring. Link to my picasa page, will embed it shortly. <table style="width: auto;"><tbody><tr><td></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: right;"> </td></tr></tbody></table><table style="width: auto;"><tbody><tr><td valign="top"> </td><td> </td></tr><tr><td valign="top"> </td><td style="font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: right;"> </td></tr></tbody></table> The next day we decided to head back to the mainland. Nate and Lindsie had their boots to pick up and I decided to reconvene with the Irish in San Juan del Sur. This time the big ferry was running and it was going to make life a lot easier getting the bikes across the lake. Turns out we had another adventure before getting onto the ferry. The lake was so high that it flooded the entryway onto the ferry. It had been high for a few days now and the normally clean cement now had a layer of algae slime. The locals weren't sure we could make it across as the water was fairly deep in some parts. Soon enough we had an audience building to see the riding of the gringos through the lake. Always a spectacle. We talked to a truck driver who was also boarding and thought it best for him to go first so we could see how high the water came up on his truck. It was deep, but we thought we could do it. By this point there was no turning back, I'm not one to let down a crowd and i liked the thought of the badassness of riding through two and a half feet of water to get on a ferry. The muffler on our bikes were quiet low and really didn't want to stop and get it stalled in front of the crowd. Wait we have to ride through that to get on the ferry? I got a bit carried away and gave a lot of throttle at the end, you can hear the exhaust and can see the back end come out as I showboated. Glad I got it back under control... <table style="width: auto;"><tbody><tr><td> </td></tr><tr><td style="font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: right;"><table style="width: auto;"><tbody><tr><td></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: right;"> </td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table>The ferry had beers (i love this country) and we split a six pack and reveled in our own glory. We had a good time sitting on the top deck talking to cute American study abroad girls who were getting away from San Jose for a weekend.