Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Last Days In Honduras

April 1st to 4th

From Sigatepeque we make the short steep 35km climb up to Comayagua. It's a short day's work, but welcome after the tough climb of yesterday. On the way we pass a number of shanty houses cobbled together with sticks, plastic sheet and tin clinging to the rock face. This family sells hand made miniature hammocks from a stand at the road side to buy rice....


Comayagua was founded by the Spanish in 1537 due to it being centrally located in their newly captured territories. They made it their political capital of Honduras and it later became the religious capital too when the church moved from Trujillo on the north coast, partly due to better climate, but also to be closer to the gold and silver mines in the mountains....

In stark contrast to some of the modern structures we see, history has left a legacy of beautiful colonial buildings around the central plaza....


As we arrive, Easter celebrations are just getting under way - known here as 'Semana Santa'. Semana is the Spanish word for 'week' and gives an indication of how seriously they celebrate this most important of festivals. Today being Maundy Thursday, the streets are eerily deserted; the people's absence explained by the calls to prayer in the churches which are chock-a-block with the faithful. We don't have time to see the grim re-enactment of the crucifixion of Christ scheduled for Good Friday and ride out on roads bereft of traffic.

It's 85kms to the capital Tegucigalpa over them there hills....


After 25kms and a tough 4 hour slog we reach a geographical milestone. The Cordilleras de Montecillos mark a continental divide where any rainfall beyond this point now makes it's slow way down to the Pacific Ocean. Behind us, rain eventually becomes part the Atlantic Ocean and I add a drop to each ocean from my water bottle without even having to move from this spot....


It's never a good idea to ride into a big city at the end of a hard ride and we are lucky to come across a hotel and comedor at a cross roads just short. This is a holiday weekend and all along the route we have seen army and fire brigade recruitment tents advertising and publicising their good works. The football field behind the hotel resembles an episode of M*A*S*H as the red cross set up camp just before a torrential storm deluges the area.


The following day we ride downhill into the urban blight that is this nations capital. Tegucigalpa comes with an unenviable reputation and we had no desire to visit, however, it is firmly on the route to Nicaragua and there is no way around.

Central American metropolises don't always work! All that easy going, relaxed organisation makes smaller towns such a welcome relief from the strait jacket of westernised rule-making.
Big cities, by contrast just need structure in order to function.
This is just chaos!
Dirty, smelly, debris-strewn chaos....


Rubbish skips overflow with litter - and people! We see four or five raggedy people to a skip searching through more fortunate people's cast off belongings for things of value; or the next meal.

Set in a wide bowl shaped depression sunk deep in amongst the mountains, the city's wooden shanties climb the steep banks to either side of the highway. It's almost like a giant stone dropped into a polluted lake and washed flotsam and jetsam up the shores....


Despite the lack of traffic it's still a harum-scarum dash through the craziness and I would hate to see the place on a normal day. Tegucigalpa is not on the list of mankind's crowning achievements!

We escape back to the natural world and away from man made madness....


We climb slowly back out the other side of the bowl for 20km passing nothing but hourly rate hotels before finally reaching the long drop into the Chuloteca valley. Amazingly we ride 60 kilometers from the capital before we spot the first proper hotel. The owners are fully aware we cannot go elsewhere and we pass a night in a scandalously overpriced hotel where we pay luxury prices for a room without running water. To save cash, we avoid their restaurant and turn the bathroom into a combined laundrette and kitchen. Chicken stew for supper. Mmmmm... chicken stew!


Next day the screaming descent out of the mountains continues and the air begins to warm noticeably as we drop to the lowlands. The wide valley round the Choluteca river is prime growing land and farming is done on an industrial scale with grand fincas set back from the road amongst tobacco, corn and coffee plantations. A climb takes us back out the other side of the valley and on to Danli, the last town of any size in Honduras.

It's been a bit of dash from La Ceiba on the north coast 500 kilometers ago, but tomorrow we cross the border to our next country... Nicaragua.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Climbing the Cordilleras

March 29th to 31st

It's getting a bit repetitive, but it's hard to convey in words just how much the heat is starting to have an effect on the trip. Lugging 20 kilos of bicycle carrying 35 kilos of kit plus an additional 10 kilos of water up a hill can be tough enough. Doing it in 95 degrees makes it tougher and the difference between the shade and direct sunlight really is just unbelievable this close to the equator. I have no idea how hot it is on the road under a cloudless sky, maybe 120 degrees. After an hour or two of climbing, that really takes it's toll. We ride at dawn and once the sun rises to here, we melt....


Fortunately the road side is lined with fruit stalls, loaded with ripe bananas, coconuts, melons and pineapples, some kept cold in refrigerators. Don't think supermarket pineapple that has traveled half the globe and spent days and weeks under climate controlled conditions. These were probably harvested this morning and their juice just bursts out as you cut them - they taste absolutely amazing.


An 18km diversion from the main road takes us along the north coast of Lago Yojoa to D&D Breweries where the best beer in Honduras is brewed. 'Bob Dale' a US army vet from Oregon set up his own micro brewery inside an old shipping container close to the lake shore and it's a tranquil oasis set amongst beautiful gardens with dozens of orchid species....


We meet Phil and Kasey - a couple of the guys we first met diving in Utila and swap stories over a couple of cold ones.

The weather in Honduras can be fickle and we go from tropical heat to tropical storm in less time than it takes to read this sentence. Our planned rowboat trip out onto the lake is cancelled as the far shore disappears beneath angry black storm clouds. It's a shame as the area is a renowned wildlife sanctuary with over 400 bird species and hundreds of butterflies....


It would be nice to spend another couple of days hiking, but Phil told us he and Kasey were fined $150 each for overstaying their visas and we have just 12 days left to get out of Honduras, through all of Nicaragua and on to the Costa Rica border.

Early morning mist clearing over a tributary river as we ride back to the 'Carr del Norte' highway....


Back on the road, and with clearer skies we are afforded much better views of the lake....


Every 500 metres or so, the catch of the day hangs from rough wooden stands enticing drivers rushing by in speeding vehicles. Better sell up soon - it's 8:30 and the smell is already rising. These are 'Galaxia', allegedly caught by hand not 200 metres away from this very spot, though one slightly more candid vendor reveals she bought hers at a market 30 miles away in the next town.


After the lake, we begin to climb again in earnest as we approach the 2500m peaks of the 'Cordilleras de Montecillos'. The vegetation begins to change from mixed deciduous trees back to pine mono-cultures and agave. It's all very green in the North West of Honduras with frequent rain storms keeping the land lush.


In amongst the green is a smattering of bold colours....


The road forms a hot dusty scar zig-zagging up the mountain side.

Last year Honduras suffered a military coup where Manuel Zalaya the incumbent president tried to change the constitution to allow him to run in elections to win an illegal third term. The army objected and forced him out of the country until democratic elections could be held in November 2009. The rock walls at the roadside advertise potential candidates....


Others raise awareness for the Honduran red cross's efforts to provide free testing for HIV sufferers in what seems to be a concerted campaign supported by the Canadians.


After 80kms and a sustained climb of 20kms we finally reach the town of Sigatepeque and collapse drained and dehydrated under a cold shower.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Temperature Is Rising

March 25th to 28th

After another torturous sea crossing on the good ship 'vomit comet', we say our good-byes to new friends made on the island of Utila. In contrast to our drizzly arrival, the boat dock is now basking under a blazing sun and by 7:30 am the temperature is already pushing 90 degrees. As the heat builds we set about retracing the 170 kilometres or so along the coast and back inland to El Progresso and on towards the capital 'Tegucigalpa'...


Riding the route a second time has it's advantages as we know we can stop midway to Tela after 'just' 45kms. Believe me that feels like a lot after three weeks off the bike with a merciless sun scorching exposed skin. The next day is hotter still – over 90 in the shade, and way hotter under the direct sun, with heat cruelly reflected back from sticky black Tarmac. Tela is a beach town and we cool down in the lapping waves of the Caribbean Sea.


Leaving the coast behind, we head inland along the broad flats of the Ulua River flood plain, passing mile after hypnotic mile of palm oil groves in ranks of unnatural symmetry....


As we begin to climb, the land changes with small holdings and ragged adobe huts set amongst more natural coconut palms. Families supplement a subsistence income by selling their fruits to passers by. Children as young as eight sit dejectedly beneath palm thatched lean-tos for long dull hours, growing soporific in the turgid heat. We meet 'Brian' who displays uncanny skill with a blade as he expertly removes the husk and pierces the fruit for us to enjoy a welcome drink and snack....


It doesn't always work that way though as we notice a deep three inch gash on the inside of his wrist. It's a couple of days old, covered in grime and just starting to fester around the edges and he's pitifully grateful as I offer to clean the wound and give him our supply of anti-septic cream. It's really basic first aid, but sadly by his reaction, it just seemed that that level of attention was lacking in his young life. Time and again on this trip we've come across young children shouldering adult levels of responsibility, their eyes and mannerisms displaying a worldliness at odds with their tender years. Often that veneer of self assurance cracks when you just talk to them and the child slowly emerges from behind that weight of expectation. We vow to buy more street food and trinkets and stop to talk more often to these child providers. It doesn't do much to change their situation, but hopefully, it just helps that little bit.

We reach busy, chaotic 'El Progresso', all snarling traffic and American branded fast food plastification....


We hole up... and leave....

Back into the tranquility of a beautifully fresh mountain-scape at dawn....


A rest stop with a cold drink at a petrol station brings an unusual sight. All the countries we have passed through since the US have all proudly displayed their nation's flag in town centres and especially around border crossings. This is the first Honduran flag I have seen anywhere and this one was hard to spot, hidden away as it was - pinned to the side of an outdoor bar....


A bar... serving beer at a petrol station? Now why does that not seems like a good idea?

We are routed along a dirt track diversion as we approach Santa Rita 15 miles to the South and the reason soon becomes clear. The town has grown up around the river crossing where the road bridges the wide span of the Ulua River. Presumably weakened during recent hurricanes, the supports suddenly gave way three weeks previously. Obviously no one was aware of structural weaknesses and traffic flow was normal until the disaster....


Luckily no one was killed and enterprising locals have taken the opportunity to supply overheating car drivers and cyclists as they wait to cross the single file footbridge. Seven year old Mariana selling coco fria (cold coconut)....


Short delays are frustrating as we try to crack the miles early in the day in that brief period of semi-cool before the debilitating heat has a chance to build. We expected to reach 'Lago Yojoa' after 80kms (50 miles), but a sustained climb a few kilometers short is hit later than planned, when, like a mirage in the shimmering waves of air rising into the clear blue skies a hotel sign appears. On auto pilot both our front tyres twitch in unison towards a refuge away from the blinding sun and before either of us has a chance to talk the other into braving it out for a bit longer we are fighting each other to get to the cold shower....

Friday, April 9, 2010

Swimming With The Fishes

March 2nd to 25th

We finally leave Tela and ride along Honduras's Caribbean coast in the pouring rain. Bizarrely It's cold, wet and miserable and I am still not feeling 100% fit so the 95kms to La Ceiba is split into 2 rides as we find a stop midway.

It's a shame the weather is so atypically tropical as the scenery is stunning - the land a wide green shelf criss-crossed by rivers and sandwiched between the sea and the 2400 metre vertical walls of the Cordillera Nombre de Dios ('Name of God' mountains)....


We reach 'La Ceiba', allegedly Honduras's party town surrounding 'a lovely central plaza'. Neither claim is even remotely true and the most abiding memory of the place is the infernal noise of a thousand Toyota Corollas painted in the garish purple livery of municipal taxis blaring their horns at everything that moves. It's a deafening cacophony and every one is roaming the narrow streets desperately looking for a fare - competition is fierce. The merest accidental twitch of an eyebrow can result in screeching rubber and suicidal U-turns by optimistic drivers. La Ceiba is not a relaxing place.

An early start sees us heading 5 miles out of town to the docks for an 8 o'clock ferry. We're heading to 'Utila', an island set on the world's second largest coral reef that stretches the length of the Belizean and Honduran coastlines. Utila is more modest in size at just 13 by 8 kms, but it is dominated by dive schools boasting the cheapest SCUBA diving courses in the world!

In case there is any doubt, a nervous official vigorously shoos us away from the much more upmarket boat dock where a much classier looking ship heads for Utila's better looking sister island - 'Roatan'. I guess a couple of dirty bums on wheels would just lower the tone! We head towards an over size canal barge with a chugging diesel engine and load the bikes aboard glancing jealously at the finery of the 'Galaxy Wave' in the background.


No sooner do we set out when plastic bags are handed out. Initially confused, their purpose becomes clear as we leave the safety of the harbour and begin to lurch and dive violently over wave crests. I remember thinking 'Should have gone to Roatan' as the first bag gets used...

An hour later it's all over and we are met at the docks by a series of reps from the various dive schools. Sue takes a liking to 'Jessica' from 'Cross Creek Dive School' and we make a questionably decisive step by not even bothering to check out other places. It turns out to be a triumph of laziness over due diligence though, when everyone else from the ferry arrives at the same place after laboriously traipsing from school to school. It's always nice to benefit from other peoples hard work as their research confirms we picked a pretty good option. We just spent the time selecting the best accommodation before the crowds arrived and joining the afternoon boat for some free snorkeling.

We sign up for our PADI Open Water course – a 4 dive course that teaches you the basic skills - how all the equipment works, breathing from a buddies regulator in an emergency, clearing your mask underwater etc. There's some technical stuff about pressure, buoyancy and depth/time charts to make sure you don't suffer problems with high levels of nitrogen in the blood, but it's all pretty straight forward and 'Nouria' our Canadian instructor is brilliant. Cross Creek throw in a couple of free 'fun dives' at the end to sweeten the deal and you are qualified to hire kit at a resort and dive without an instructor once you pass....

At first it's a bizarre feeling trying to forget all those years of breathing though your nose - that just sucks up any sea water in your mask and is bad. Once you learn to breathe thorough your mouth, the next thing to avoid is the instinct to take a deep breath and hold it as your face submerges. Holding your breath is also bad!

It does take a while to get used to it all and to just trust the equipment as it all feels totally unnatural at first, but slowly... slowly you do learn to relaaaax and just breeeeethe naturally. The first dive is on a sand bank close to the surface to practice some skills and passes in a blur. It's only when you get back on the boat and try to unclench your jaw from around your 'regulator' that you realise what you have just done.

With each dive the experience gets easier... and more addictive. You start to see a different world....


And once you get more confident with setting your buoyancy, you start to avoid sinking like a stone or bobbing up to the surface like a popping cork. It begins to feel totally relaxing - like flying above a totally new planet. My dive buddies Rita, Me, Sue and Ebonee in 'hover mode'....


Now you get chance to explore a bit more as you gain control. Control is good as you don't want to get too close to this Lion fish which is seriously poisonous....


Actually they are an invader and hunt down smaller fish and will eat until they burst, so the instructors carry spears and nets and skewer them for the BBQ. Unfortunately this one got away. It's just a beautiful world under the water and we see huge schools of blue tangs, curious angelfish and giant tarpen. There are barracuda, eels hiding in nooks, massive crabs with pincers a foot long and a rare group of southern stargazers that bury themselves in the sand between corals and are hard to spot. There are thousands of brightly coloured 'parrot fish' that you can hear chomping noisily on lumps of coral and lobsters resting up during the day. This is an eagle ray – a picture of serenity, all lazy wing beats and easy movement....


Up close and personal with a porcupine fish....


One day out on the boat, we see a group of bottle nosed dolphins and quickly remove our tanks so we can swim amongst them without scaring them off. It's an amazing experience as they curiously swim over to play with us. Sue gets to see a leatherback turtle on her next dive for one of those lottery winning type days.

I say this is addictive and we sign up for an Advanced course. Now we go deep – to 30 metres to the Haliburton wreck. This was a cargo boat set for decommission when the dive schools bought it and sunk it on a sand bank. It's a spooky experience swimming through it's rusted, barnacle covered wheel house and Sue gets a 'Titanic' moment as we stand arms outstretched on the prow. We improve our buoyancy skills so we can swim through hoops and hover upside down – noses touching the bottom. We are expected to Navigate underwater and be able to find our boat at the end of a dive. A useful skill!

And now we get to dive at night – in pitch blackness!!
Using just torches, the underwater world again changes and looks very different. We see creatures of the night – spiders and lobsters on the hunt and colours are very different too. All that water has a filtering effect on sunlight. Reds are filtered out first, then yellows and then green – that's the reason underwater film always looks more blue than normal. If you were to cut yourself at depth, your blood would look green as there is no red light to make it red..... seriously it's very very weird. Under torch light, that red light reappears and the corals are much more vivid. Where they look brown and dirty by day – they are vibrant and alive by night.

Switching off our torches reveals bioluminescent plankton in the water. With all of us waving our arms about they are churned up and luminesce more brightly. You can see absolutely nothing in an absence of light so total it is rarely experienced and then like a galaxy of stars there are these flashes of blue all around us. It's a rare and totally beautiful experience.

We sign on for another 10 dives....

Life on the boat is very cool too. Our dive master Helen, Sue and I getting our gear sorted....


As is life on land – a typical evening of hammocking with new friends and a few cold ones....


We are starting to seriously consider a dive master course, and another couple of months here, until we hear of the final challenge awaiting those that wish to qualify. Two of our dive masters finish their courses and must now pass the dreaded 'Snorkel Test'. Evil instructors Kevin, Nico, Nouria(our instructor) and Pete administer the test using rum and fizzy fizzy cola. Bottles must be filled to the brim and then emptied in one go through the snorkel.... The second trial sees masks filled up with beer and a demonstration must be performed of the best technique of how to clear it underwater.

This is the 'before' photo – the 'after' is a complete mess....


In all we spend 3 weeks on Utila where we planned to stay just 5 days. Apparently we escaped early. Pete (above) came for a month and is still here after 6 with no plans to leave – Joe came for a week to see his sister Nouria and 3 months later is a qualified dive master....

But we had to leave – this is supposed to be a cycle tour. It's all depressingly familiar, but now we have visa problems again and have just 2 weeks to ride across Honduras and see the whole of Nicaragua and get to the Costa Rican border. Me thinks that's not enough, but we'll deal with that later...