The ride from Cabo back up to La Paz was taken in 2 parts. The first stretch was filled with road construction and was a hot and sweaty ride. We pulled into a little store for a water break and some food, covered in road grime from the long and dusty stretches of construction. Pulling out a bunch of loose change that had accumulated over the past few days to purchase some cool drinks we must have been looking pretty rough, and to the Mexican family eating at a restaurant next door, I guess like homeless foreigners. Concerned that we wouldn't have enough money to buy food and water in the next town, we were offered 150pesos... This marked the second time on the trip a Mexican had offered us money - a clear indication that maybe it was time for a shower and some laundry!
We found a nice little spot in the pretty town of Todos Santos, about halfway between Cabo and La Paz on the Pacific Side. After a quick cleaning, we headed out in search of some cheap street meat. Our stay, however, would not have been complete without a visit to Hotel California, the original luxury hotel the locals had us convinced served as inspiration for The Eagles. A quick Wikipedia search and an over priced beer later convinced us that it was nothing more than another tourist trap.
The ride back into La Paz, our favorite place in the Baja, was going pretty well until Alex started feeling sick. With a killer headache, nausea, and pretty much all the symptoms Pepto-Bismol claims to cure, it was looking like the culprit may have been our dinner in Todos Santos. We arrived back at Francisco's place in La Paz, where Alex was, unfortunately, bedridden for next few days. Feeling significantly better after resting up, we said our good byes to the best friends we had met on the trip so far and prepped ourselves for the next leg of the journey.
With no more road left to bike in the Baja, our only option beside turning around and biking North was the ferry to Mazatlan. We were able to get on a trucker ferry leaving a day sooner than the tourist one, and it ended up saving us a bunch of bucks too. As we loaded the boat we soon realized why, but it was afloat, and that's all we needed. We set sail across the Sea of Cortez just in time to see the sun set behind the Baja, thankful for all the good times, good people, and fond memories that had been created over our 30 days in the Baja.
The kitchen on the ferry produced some traditional Mexican trucker's grub for dinner, which if we hadn't been hungry, would have probably gone untouched... Too cheap to pay for a sleeping cabin, before it got too dark, we decided it would be a good idea to stake out our camping grounds for the night. We found what we thought was a good spot, and fell asleep under the clear starry sky, with the motion of the ship gradually rocking from side to side... until around 2AM when THUNDER STRUCK! We awoke abruptly in the eye of the storm, torrential rain, and significantly rougher seas. We quickly gathered up all the gear and went to see if we could find shelter in the crowded operators lounge.
We awoke early to clear skies with land in sight. We were headed to the coastal city of Mazatlan on Mainland Mexico - a place that is unfortunately becoming more and more known for its drug violence than for its sandy beaches and palm trees. We had been warned of some of the dangers on mainland Mexico, just as we had been about the apparent dangers of the Baja, however, we knew that a more cautious approach would be necessary here. With our safety in mind and the realization that the deadline we had set way back in June to get to Panama was not realistic we had to make the difficult decision of taking a bus. As we disembarked from the ferry, we wheeled up to the military checkpoint where we were invasively searched - the young soldiers seemed convinced that we were smuggling some sort of contraband in the saddle bags. Finding nothing but some smelly camping gear and a few groceries we were waved through.
We found the bus station without too much more hassle and checked out the routes and rates. It appeared as though all roads south passed through Mexico City, so we bought the tickets. With still some time to burn we headed to the restaurant across from the bus station for some pancakes and WiFi where we made contact with a friend we had met on the wharf in La Paz over some Coronas. Jon had said if we were ever in Mexico City to ring him up. So we sent him an email and within a few minutes he replied saying he would be more than happy to put us up for a few days. Stoked on finding a place in the city close to the population of Canada, we went to board the bus. The driver of the big coach demanded a 300 peso surcharge for the bikes, which we thought was a bit steep. We offered to pay with credit card, but as predicted, he only accepted cash. Threatening to pull our bikes off the bus, we settled on 200 and took our seats.
Groggy and still half asleep from the overnight bus ride, the first thing we noticed as we dragged ourselves off the bus was the cooler air temperature in Mexico City, a nice change from the heat and humidity of Baja. The second thing we realized as we looked over the massive city map of where we were and where we were going, was that if by some miracle we weren't hit by a car en route, we would likely spend the rest of the day lost in search of Jon's house, asking for directions at the end of every block. Fortunately, as we left the bus station a crowd of taxi drivers rushed to our assistance. We found a car with a solid looking roof rack and lashed the bikes to the roof of the tiny Nissan. The drive from the north end of the city to the south end, where Jon lives, gave us some perspective of the shear size and the number of people living in Ciudad de Mėxico.
The next few days were spent touring around the city, which to our surprise was quite scenic with grand statues, water fountains, and lots of greenery. The fast and efficient metro made getting around a breeze. Jon and Aaron were excellent sources of information and pointed us in all the right directions to the must-see sights. Jon even helped us plan a route as we headed south from Mexico City to Guatemala. We decided again, that to make the most of our day, we would take another red eye bus ride. We took some farewell photos with our courteous hosts and hit the road just in time to catch the midnight bus out of the city going to Oaxaca.
We arrived in Oaxaca, Oaxaca around 5:30am and managed to find the impressive Zocalo in the center of the city. As no restaurants were yet open, we sat and watched as the town slowly came to life. Some pancakes broke our fast once again, and we found a cool little hostel to stay at for the next couple of days. The city had a very European feel, with the cobblestone roads and lots of quaint cafes. We met up with another CouchSurfer, Carlos, who wanted to show us around the city a bit. We had some really good food for dinner and then went to a couple of his favourite bars and Carlos hooked us up on a tour of the surrounding countryside for the following day. We visited a small carpet-making factory, swam in some beautiful spring-fed pools high up in the mountains, learned how to make Mescal at a local distillery, and of course did some taste-testing there as well. On the tour we met two Scots who were in the country to run a half marathon in Mexico City. Impressed by the prospect of anyone willing to physically exert themselves amongst the smog produced by millions and millions of commuters, we wished them good luck.
Our final stop in Mexico was Tapachula, a border town with Guatemala that we had been warned about as being a seriously dangerous spot to be. Once again, we found safety among the locals and were graciously welcomed into the home of Couch Surfer Ana for the night. Most of the day in Tapachula was spent catching up on sleep from the long overnight bus ride, however, the evening was full of entertainment. We were invited to a wine tasting that Ana was conducting at a local school where Ana had studied to be a connoisseur. It was fun trying to communicate with Ana's mother, who speaks no English, and it seemed as though our Spanish was improving as the night went on, however, I believe this perception may have had something to do with the wine.
We woke up pretty early the next day feeling some of the negative effects of the wine tasting, however, we were not going to let that slow us down, we were on our way to Guatemala. From Tapachula we rode the 45km stretch to the border - 1 peso to cross the bridge, a stamp in the passport, and we were in a new country. Judging by the number of curious looks we were getting, gringos on bikes aren't often seen around these parts. We found the chicken bus station, exchanged the last of our pesos to quetzales, and began looking for a bus to Xela. This last part wasn't too difficult as the drivers of the chicken buses were pulling us in every different direction fighting for our business. We found what we thought was a descent looking chicken bus and within seconds our bikes were snatched out of our hands and crammed into the tiny luggage compartment and the bus was rolling. We had to switch buses about halfway through the trip, however, the bus we were getting on this time was looking a bit more rustic. Our bikes were quickly yanked up onto the roof, complete with saddle bags, and just as the bus was taking off, Kenton made a last ditch effort to try and secure everything. Crossed fingers and prayers were needed for more than to keep our bikes from flying off the roof, Chicken Bus driving in Guatemala is taken more seriously than an Olympian preparing for a gold medal race. Two rookie mistakes were made: 1. Never sit over the wheel wells unless you are looking for some serious air; and 2. Never look out the front window. Visions of flying over the 1000ft cliff on the right or slamming into the oncoming semi as our driver felt it was necessary to pass on a curve going uphill, crossed our minds more than once. Eventually we came to the conclusion that we would just have to trust these guys, they are professionals and this is what they do.
We made it to Xela in one piece and, amazingly, with our bikes as well. We had made contact with another cyclist who lives in San Cristobal, a small town just outside of Xela. We stayed with Carlos for 3 days and he took us on some long rides high up into the mountains of Guatemala. It was the first real unloaded biking we had done all trip and it was a good thing we ditched the saddle bags as we followed Carlos up some of the longest ascents yet and steeps that made the hills of San Francisco hills look like speed bumps. We were well looked after during our stay and ate the best food we had eaten all trip, most of which came from Carlos' organic garden. As a treat on our last night we had a goat leg that had been injected with beer and marinated, one of the tastiest pieces of meat we had eaten on a long time.
Carlos had recommended the ride from San Cristobal to San Pedro, a small town located on a large freshwater lake about 70kms away. He had cautioned us about the long and steep descent down to the lake which we took with a grain of salt after conquering hills we didn't think could get any steeper the day before. The air temperature was very comfortable as we climbed for about 2 hours and after a really nice stretch of highway riding we made the turnoff to San Pedro. The hill Carlos had mentioned was covered in switchbacks from top to bottom and was at such a steep pitch the brake pads could barely keep the loaded bikes from loosing control. It was a long and slow downhill as we had to stop several times to let the rims cool off. Our brake pads worn much thinner by the time we finally reached San Pedro, it was time for a dip in the freshwater.
San Pedro was an interesting town that we soon learned contained a high number foreigners and expatriates. We found a cool little spot to stay right down by the lake. Costing us less than we paid for camping in The States, we decided to stick around for another day and kick back in the hammock.
We loaded a colorful looking chicken bus early the next morning, relieved that we had to go UP the gnarly switchbacked hill, it was hard enough keeping the bikes on the ground let alone a rickety old cheese-wagon, top heavy, and carrying close to 4 times the number of people than there are seats.
It was a surprisingly smooth ride from San Pedro to Guatemala City, where we were dropped off and left to find the Tica Bus Station. Fortunately we were not too far away and found it without much trouble. It is something we had wanted to avoid, however, with our time frame and for sake of simplicity needing to cross 2 more borders we bought bus tickets from Guatemala City all the way to Managua, Nicaragua.
The bus ride was broken up with a stopover for the night in San Salvador where we had lined up to stay with a Couch Surfing friend who was teaching English at a private American School. The part of San Salvador where we spent the night was actually just like a night back in the US. We had cold draft beer and wings and paid for it all with greenbacks... This is when we found out why the money exchangers at the border would not give us Salvadoran Colóns, apparently they had been abolished in 2001 and the entire country switched over to American coin. Will, our CS host, gave us a piece of floor and the hammock to rest up a bit before we had to jump back on the bus for a 5am departure to Managua.
Our intention was to avoid staying in Managua for the night, however, with only an hour of daylight remaining and travel around the Latin American capital at night not recommended, we were forced to try and find a spot close to the bus station... A part of town we soon realized we did not want to hang out in too long. First thing after breakfast we caught the chicken bus headed for Granada. We had gotten use to the rough treatment of the bikes by this point as the bus hands hauled everything up onto roof-rack. When we got off in Granada, some local guy handed us a flyer for a hostel that was situated in the forest canopy about 20kms down the road. Looked like a pretty cool spot, and looking to get out of cities, we headed towards Poste Rojo. Turns out the hostel is actually a treehouse, and after making the long and arduous climb up to the office/bar/kitchen, the first thing we were offered was a nice cold Toña - the local Nicaraguan Cerveza. We hung out in the Treehouse for the night enjoying some good conversation with the other travelers.
Lacking the motivation to pack up and hit the road again, we spent the following day at the treehouse as well. We took a hike into a crater lake created after an eruption 20 000 yrs ago or something, and a refreshing dip in the pristine water. Despite having the protection of a roof, the tent got drenched from the heavy afternoon rainstorm including thermarests and sleeping bags, so the night was spent slung up in the hammocks offered by the hostel for an additional dollar.
Our next destination was one that we had chosen many weeks ago while doing research on WWOOFing (Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms) destinations in Central America. The Abundance Farm is located just outside of Jinotepe in a rural area of southwestern Nicaragua. The Abundance Farm is an organic self-sufficient family farm homestay where volunteers can visit for a couple of days or a couple of months... according to the website. Also according to the website, there is lots of work to be done there, an ample supply of fresh fruits and vegetables grown right at the farm, and an abundance of organic food. We were dropped off at an unnamed intersection that looked to be in the middle of nowhere. Not entirely sure if we were even in the right spot, we followed the directions that we had gotten off the website and directions from a few locals who knew what direction to point us in. Eventually we came to a few small shacks that looked similar to all of the other houses in the neighborhood and were warmly welcomed by our hosts at the farm, none of whom spoke any English, except for the 20yr old son, Yisidro, who knew a few broken words. We were shown to the guest rooms, which had obviously not housed anyone in quite some time, and were given a welcome greeting from Leonidas, the father, of which we understood nada. Taking a moment to look around, it didn't take us long to realize the lack of abundance and that this place was a far cry from what had been described to us on the website. The farm itself was less than an acre, hardly big enough to be a self-sufficient enterprise for a large family, and contained no garden, no farm animals, and other than a few sickly looking banana and papaya trees, no fruit. There were three underfed and starving little puppies who fought viscously over the scraps of food thrown on the dirt floor of the kitchen, and besides cutting wood for the fire (which Yisidro had under control), there was no farming or labour to be done at all. Before even having an opportunity to move into our rooms, we were asked to pay the $10/day per person fee to stay so that food could be bought. $40 is just under what Leonidas makes during one full week of work during the dry season, so by Nicaraguan standards we thought it was a bit much for our two night stay, though we were not about to enter into a bargaining dispute with anyone. We took a trip to a nearby waterfall which was actually very scenic, and were able to take our wash there before dinner, which consisted of rice and beans. We had an after dinner sip of Coffee and went to bed wondering what tomorrow at the 'Abundance' Farm would bring.
For breakfast, we had rice and beans once again, which left us wondering where all this money we had just paid was going. We hopped on our bikes following Yisidro on the mud roads with a pannier full of Nancite Fruits, which Yisidro had given us to carry and for whom they were for we did not really know. We made a stop at Yisidros brother's house and he hopped on his bike to join us for the ride. We were heading to the Pacific Ocean for a swim and were making Nancite deliveries to a few family friends. The swim in the ocean was worth the lengthy ride, but as we had taken our time to make various stops on the way there, the ride back to the Abundance Farm was mostly under the cover of darkness, which made for very difficult riding conditions on rough roads that a 4x4 would probably find challenging. We finally arrived back at the farm just in time for rice and beans, which, was supplemented this time with a piece of chicken and some watermelon... happy to see that a trip to the market had been made. We washed off as best as we could with a bucket and water from the well and hit the hay.
Breakfast the next morning was significantly more filling than the past three meals had been and afterwards we said goodbyes to everyone and packed up for the bike ride to Jinotepe where we were catching a chicken bus heading to Isla de Ometepe on Lago de Nicaragua. The past couple of days on the Abundance farm had been a mixed experience, and while we questioned the legitimacy of the Abundance Farm Project, feeling as though we had been tricked into going there, it gave us a brief opportunity to observe the lives of a very poor Nicaraguan family. Despite lacking most of the amenities a North American family would consider essential, everyone seemed very happy, singing, whistling, and carrying out daily routines... kids left to their own imagination to entertain themselves without any of the technology ubiquitous in our society. Although we felt at times that we were being taken advantage of and objectified as gringos with deep pockets, we were warmly welcomed by everyone we met, made to feel at home, and treated just like we were part of the family.
The chicken bus arrived in Rivas, Nicaragua with plenty of time for us to bike to the harbour and catch the afternoon ferry out to the island. We arrived in Moyogalpa and found the cheapest place we would to crash for the night, which at this time of the year, we noticed many businesses offering special promotions cheaper rates vying to attract anyone passing by.
After talking with a few locals we decided to head to a small town on the smaller half of the island called Merida. We did a combo of bike and bus to get there and as we peddled into the first good looking spot to set up camp there was a large contingency of other tourists. Curious what was going on, we soon found out that they were all vets from the states who had just arrived for a week of volunteering on the island as it lacks any veterinary care. Their first task was an autopsy on a large boa constrictor that had been exposed to some poison which we were able to observe. All week though, locals were free to bring in any animals they had for a check up.
The next morning we woke up to the screams of pigs being castrated which kicked any craving for bacon and eggs. We had made plans the night before to climb a volcano close bye. For the hike we were required to hire a guide so we hooked up with a few others at our hostel to split on one. The hike was a bit of a slog but wasn't to bad and we finally saw the howler monkeys we had been hearing for the last few days. At the summit of the volcano we were rewarded with a great view, ate some lunch, and started the trek back down for a swim in Lake Nicaragua.
Later on that night our guide from the day invited us out to a bar and introduced us to the cheapest bottle of rum around. Priced at $1 for an unmarked bottle of questionable content we went bottoms up with our hiker friends from the day and had a great night. Our activities the next day were a direct result of the night before. We relaxed on the lake and wrote this blog which has been long over due. We plan to be in Costa Rica soon and have come to the final two weeks of the trip. We have a bunch of poker chips for the casinos in San Jose... Planning to cash in on the 17th!
Hope all is well back home.
See yeah soon.
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