Costa Rica - Pura Vida!

 Following on from the previous post I actually had two more nights in Nicaragua before crossing into Costa Rica. Blistering midday heat meant an 8:30am start wasn't really good enough, you need to get going by 7am if you want a decent days riding. So my 8:30 am start ensured an uncomfortable days riding from 12pm onwards! Lots of stops for cool drinks make it bearable but inevitably slow the pace and progress.

 My penultimate night was at Playa Gigante on the Pacific coast. A hostel manager gives cycle tourists a free dorm bed for the night. A beach party hostel, not really my scene. A lot of 20 something flesh on display at times, I didn't know where to look. I had to pretend I was a cloud spotter/stargazer, that line doesn't really work when I was stood under a tree.      

 Anyway, I was grateful of the bed, a dip in the sea and a slightly obscured sunset. And grateful that, once more, Warm Showers had taken me out of my environment and 'exposed' me to different experiences. Also, I had arrived a day before the big full moon party so was able to escape before the hostel descended into real chaos.             

  Having learned my lesson from the previous day I was riding on from the beach hostel at 6:30am. Not well rested in truth, ferocious winds during the night made a racket and even blew sand into the dorm (most buildings here are not sealed like back home). Battling on into the winds I was just short of the Nicaragua/Costa Rica border by 1pm and decided it would be prudent to stop here for the night as accommodation is cheaper in Nicaragua. $10 for a bog standard room with 5* views. This is Lake Nicaragua with Volcan Concepción in the background.  

 So onto Costa Rica. Through both sets of immigration by 7:20am then a long, long ride - 87 miles - south to Cañas where my Warm Showers host Esteban was awaiting my arrival. This was a tough day, there were headwinds to contend with virtually all the way and, heading south towards the Equator, the heat issues are only going to get worse. However, for once, I judged the ride just about perfectly and maintained a steady, sustainable pace throughout. The final 6 miles to Esteban's farm were with tailwinds, a glorious descent through rice fields with the setting sun. 

 How many times have I had to ignore such signs on this trip?           

  Having arrived at Esteban's farm fairly late on Saturday evening I'd had time to be watered and fed, take a little drive around town but not much else. I woke up a little troubled on Sunday morning and soon worked out what was bothering me - I really didn't want to ride on, I wanted to stay an extra day on the farm. So I thought 'just play it cool, quietly ask for an extra nights stay at some point in the morning.' When Esteban had got up he barely managed to say good morning before I'd stammered 'Please let me stay an extra night, please!!!'. Of course, the answer was 'yes'.          

 The food was great, the drinks were delicious (incredible natural fruit juices) but the real beauty of this stay was that I learned so much. Esteban is a rice farmer and the insight I had into the challenges of his job were really quite profound. He needs to understand the soil, markets and tariffs, how to manage and maintain the welfare of his staff, use and application of technology. Esteban is passionate about organic produce and is currently converting his farm to organic status. Not because it's necessarily going to make him more money but because he is committed to producing healthier food and educating people about its benefits. 

I found I had a lot of common ground with Esteban - same age, same passion for running first, cycling second, similarly unmarried - and we had great conversations about food production, climate change, vegetarianism but if there's one thing that I'll take from my stay here it's that I should buy more organic food. The global drive for cheaper and cheaper food is destructive and does a major disservice to the hardworking farmers at the start of the production chain. 

 On Sundays locals can ask for permission to fish the channels surrounding the local fish farms. Some of these lucky guys bagged some pretty big fish - tilapia I think. We got to try some later, fried up after our already rather filling barbecue!  

 The home on the farm. Notice the small wall running around the property? This is to keep out floodwaters. In December, during a hurricane, the farm was inundated with waters much higher than the level of the wall. As the 'Chinese hoax' of climate change worsens there could be troubling times ahead. 

 Esteban and Mum. If you're reading this thank you so much for your hospitality. The two days on the farm were two of the most tranquilo of my whole trip and will be a cherished memory when I return home. Yes, I intend to buy more organic produce and also, let's put it out there, I would love to train for and complete an ultramarathon when I get home (following Esteban's example). I had been thinking about what the next challenge could be after this tour, I've got my eye on Race to the Stones!      

 From Cañas I struggled on through the heat to El Roble. More humble lodgings here, I camped in the front porch of Alexander Gutierrez's home in a quiet barrio. The heat down on the coast is intense! I put my head down to sleep at 8:30pm and immediately sweat was dripping into my pillow, still too hot. So I swung in the hammock for another hour, cooling down, and tried again at 9:30pm and was able to sleep. 

  Here is Alexander, posing with my bike. He hosts cyclists very regularly providing a wonderful service to the touring community. I only met him very briefly but what a nice guy!     

 Do you know the way to San Jose? Yeah, just follow the highway, you can't miss it. I arrived in the capital at 3pm but couldn't hook up with my Warm Showers host, Mariano, until 8pm so had time to kill. What luck to chance upon this free salsa concert in one of the city's parks! At times, the modernity of Costa Rica can suck the Latinity(?) out of the country but not here. Hips were swinging in ways Englishmen can only dream of and boy could the singer carry a tune! Lovely introduction to a city many people had warned me of as being dangerous and violent (words I've heard about many places throughout my trip, gets a little wearing).

  I stayed three nights in Mariano's city centre bike workshop/future cafe. His current project combines his passion for bicycles and coffee - everyday he takes this cart out to sell organic coffee in the centre of San Jose.

Mariano is bursting with ideas and could talk the hind leg off a donkey! Nevertheless, what I like about him is that he doesn't just talk about doing things, he gets out there and does them. Selling coffee on his bike, he's helping change perceptions of cycling in the city which hitherto are 'it's too dangerous to cycle in a city' or 'rich people drive, bikes are for poor people.'   

 My bed space in San Jose. If my 20 year old self could have foreseen me one month shy of 40 years old, still dossing on floors of random places I'm sure I would have been delighted! I'll always take the stimulation of human contact over the sterile comfort of hotel rooms.

For a while now I've been carrying a few souvenirs and been pondering ditching my front panniers for a lighter ride.

 So my panniers and a few other bits and pieces - nearly 4kg - are now on the way home courtesy of the Costa Rican postal service. This is the new look bike, bottles mounted on the forks to maintain some front end weight.  

  Friday morning, 6am, Mariano goes off to sell coffee, I ride on to San Isidro. Only the most foolish of riders would take the mountain route, there's a direct altitude gain of over 7000ft to the top of the pass. So it was made for me, I took the mountain route.

There was a tangible difference in the feel of the bike, obviously lighter but for all of the loss of front end weight it still handles beautifully. I got most of the way to the pass quite comfortably but was really struggling in the last 10 miles.

 This was a 'false summit' the real peak was a further mile on and just over 11000ft. I have to admit that I was in a bit of a state when I got to the top. Then, freewheeling down through fog, suddenly not using my muscles anymore, I could feel my body cooling down dangerously fast and my muscles seizing up. I had to stop and layer up and put on gloves. This took a long time! I must have been exhausted as I really had to think about what I was doing, which pannier are my clothes in? How do I open the pannier? What clothes do I need? etc etc. Exhaustion strains the communication between brain and body.

  Anyway, I cruised into San Isidro nearly 12 hours, 83 miles and a cumulative 9500ft of climbing later. As usual, after such a punishing ride I felt elated, the tiredness converted into a glow of wellbeing and contentment. I love this feeling but don't want to feel it more than once or twice a month because, frankly, it hurts like hell in the moment. 

    Taking a quick food break on today's ride. Having stretched well last night I was fine to ride on and, with evenish terrain, the 76 miles to  Palma Norte flew by. 

  Lots of jungle in the last two days. I didn't really have the wherewithal to take many photos yesterday but, coming over the mountains, I saw hummingbirds buzzing from flower to flower and epiphytes in the form of exotic orchids growing in the boughs and branches of moss clad trees. Spectacular. 

 Yeah, right! 1.5 metres. You become inured to the dangers of heavy traffic on a trip like this. Articulated lorries tend to show some respect, the culprit in the background, buses, less so.

 In the top five slip off slopes for the whole trip...

 Lightweight bike soaking up some rays.

 Trying to keep cool in the midday heat. I'm now just one ride from the Panama border, so will get an early night tonight, an early start tomorrow and just keep riding. 

Pura vida! This Costa Rican phrase means more than just 'pure life'. Come visit and work it out for yourself! 

Nicaragua - heat and headwinds

 After a highly enjoyable sojourn through the hills of Honduras it was time to descend to the coastal plains again and find entry into country #8, Nicaragua.

Warm Showers, the cyclists hospitality website, provides a fantastic service to cycle tourists but plans go astray when communication breaks down. Jaime pictured here wasn't really expecting me, he hadn't picked up my last message, but, nevertheless, I managed to track his house down. In true Latin style and in the spirit of Warm Showers, I was invited in without hesitation. This would be my final night in Honduras so I had kept back a little spare cash in case I had needed to pay for a hotel. Instead, that money invested in the Honduran beer industry and a night out in the barrio. Great fun, I'm very grateful for a good night out in Choluteca with Jaime and friends.

 Last views of Honduran countryside, a few miles from the border.

 Vehicles lined up at the border. As usual, the crossing was fairly smooth but these are always moments of a little stress. You've got to keep your eye on your belongings, keep your valuables well concealed and be ready to answer a string of inane questions regarding nationality and intentions. Border guards frequently think I am Irish as the UK passport reads "United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland." 

Patience and polite, understanding smiles are the order of the day! I usually resist the temptation to sink to sarcasm and withering comments...

 All smiles, through immigration and onto the next country. Any border crossing jokes were on me though. I rode on to Somotillo, the first town on the Nicaraguan side of the border to get a hotel and call it a day (slightly thick head from the night out in the barrio). Asking around town it quickly became clear that there were no banks and the nearest cashpoint was back at the border! To be honest, I could have got by, changing a few dollars but decided to dump my panniers at a hotel and ride back to the cashpoint. Only a few miles. Of course, back at the border there was a big fuss over checking my passport again, radioing through that I was coming back to withdraw cash, etc, etc. Cheery smiles and compliance on my part.

 You couldn't see a more typical rural scene in Nicaragua; sugarcane field with a volcano looming large in the background.

 Conversely, you couldn't see a less typical rural scene; country cycle lane. It petered out after quarter of a mile but a step in the right direction. Unfortunately, people travelling by bicycle are rather looked down on here. Owning a car is a clear symbol wealth, a bicycle pushes you down in social status.

 The sheen of sweat tells a tale of temperatures here, it's super hot! I'm trying my best to get riding done before the midday heat and drinking as much water as I can get my hands on. Riding the coastal plains the terrain is largely flat but brutal headwinds means what would be a quick and easy transit between two towns can be a real battle. Drop down a gear and take it with good humour, cursing the winds does little to help!

 I spent a couple of days in Leon, a colonial city in the north of Nicaragua. I'm afraid I left knowing little more about the city than when I arrived.

 Staying in an empty hostel for a couple of nights I decided to get stuck into some serious reading and cracked on with the Barchester Chronicles....

...whilst drinking endless cups of Honduran coffee.

 A joyful picture for me! The headwinds were coming in diagonally left, so. perched behind the rear right wheel of this tractor and cart, I was able to benefit from a massive hole being punched in the air. For three glorious miles I was able to cruise at 20 mph before the tractor turned off. Back to 10 mph for the rest of the ride.

 Lake Managua. Look at the vegetation and waves and you'll get an idea of the winds I endured that day!

 In Managua (capital city) I stayed with a Belgian couple of work for local NGOs. Lovely people who open up their home despite leading such busy lives. A Korean cyclist was also passing through. Look at the amount of gear on his bike! The crate on the wall goes on the bike too!

Speaking with him about his time in the Andes I just cannot wait to get there. I've enjoyed my time in Central America so far but I will be ready to move on. The cooler climes and big mountain landscapes will be closer to the kind of riding I crave on this trip. My flight from Panama to Bogota is on 3rd March, so just three more weeks before a whole new continent.

 Just one night in Managua, not the most prepossessing place, before riding on to Granada, another colonial jewel. Mercifully it was a short ride because, tormented, no, terrorised by mosquitoes, I didn't sleep well in Managua. Another reason to get to the Andes, no mosquitoes on the higher slopes.

 Granada, another wonderful place that I will leave not knowing too much about but, rest assured, I'm making my way through the Barchester Chronicles! 

I've not just had my head stuck in books though, I've also managed to get quite a lot of forward planning done and have six Warm Showers stays lined up for the coming weeks. With the final two Central American countries, Costa Rica and Panama, being considerably more pricey than the preceding countries, this will help with the budget. 

 A few more photos from my volunteering stay in Guatemala with Proyecto 123.

 Hugs all round!

 Ruck.

 And, finally, just in case you're not an avid reader of the Oxford Mail, I made the news this week. You can read the article here: Oxford Mail

It's great to get media coverage and a wider audience. Don't forget that, with just a few more clicks than a Facebook 'like', you can make a donation to OXFAM and help fight poverty. Just follow the links in the blog or Google 'Just Giving Moden'. Will you really miss that tenner at the end of the month?

Tegucigalpa, Honduras

 Following on from the previous blog I still had some miles to cover, horizontal and vertical, through the hills of Western Honduras. I've now made it to the capital, Tegucigalpa (please don't just skim read it, say it out loud), where I've taken my first rest day in 12 on the road. My longest stint of consecutive riding days since leaving the States. 

This picture is me taking a breather on the ascent to La Esperanza, Honduras' highest town at about 5600ft or 1700m.

 With the painful ride to Santa Rosa still fresh in my memory I decided on the 'better the devil you know' strategy; napkin with a rough sketch of the elevation profile between Gracias and La Esperanza. It took the sting out of the ride and helped me pace myself.  

 More coffee beans drying. Dust from the mills coated my water bottles lending my water a rich aroma of coffee. Which I like. 

 In fact, coffee has been one of the greatest pleasures of Honduras. Usually there is a direct positive correlation between the wealth of a country and its quality of coffee, even if it's a coffee producing country (it's not unusual to be served Nescafé, yuck). Indonesia was a great example for me, fairly poor place serving distinctly average coffee despite Java being a major producer. This was 15 years ago, maybe things have changed. However, Honduras is a poor place that serves exquisite coffee! I'm so happy that it bucks the trend.

 I've rarely paid more than $10 for hotel rooms in Honduras and sometimes you get what you pay for. In the politely named town of Gracias I landed my worst hotel room yet. As night fell I realised I wasn't alone in my bed. The bed clothes came alive with bugs, mercifully non-biting ones but unwelcome all the same. After an hour of squirming around and flicking them away I gave up. Only solution, not for the first time on this trip, pitch the tent on the bed and lock out all forms of life!

What a convoluted way of getting a decent night's sleep, thanks for nothing Gracias. 

 On to Siguatepeque and, after many nights in hotels, I had a Warm Showers stay lined up with Moises and his wife Adriana. They were so welcoming and couldn't do enough for me. As usual with these experiences, I felt genuinely humbled by the hospitality I received.

  My dish is a baleada which is pretty much the national dish of Honduras, a bread stuffed with beans, egg, chicken and whatever else is to hand.

Moises is planning a tour to Costa Rica in April and had a million questions to ask about my experience. It was nice to play the expert for a change and a good workout of my Spanish.   

 I really like coffee. 

 Rough around the edges, the outskirts of Tegucigalpa. As you can tell from the buildings, this is a poor place, a magnet for migrants from the countryside. Building on marginal land, steep slopes or by rivers, is a risky business, especially when you consider the country lies in a hurricane zone. Sadly, thousands are regularly affected when the autumn storms pass over the city.

 Tegucigalpa has pockets of attractive colonial architecture but in reality it's a scruffy, run-down place. At first glance it's easy to dismiss the city as an ugly, even slightly menacing place. The city's crime problems are notorious. However, having given the place a little time, just a day, and the old world, time-warped charm of the place has emerged. The city has few concessions to modernity excepting the tawdry presence of American fast food outlets. It's a bustling, functional place that reminded me of Kowloon or Saigon. 

 Plaza life, singing and dancing in the main square. Not one woman present in the picture, curious!

The activity of Tegucigalpa completely sets it apart from the tranquil towns in rest of the country.

 Yes, I really do like coffee! 

 Alejandra, a local English teacher accosted me in the street thinking I was lost. I wasn't exactly lost but it was great to chat with her for a while and get the lowdown on the city from a local. The city and country as a whole suffers a terrible crime rate, one of the highest homicide rates in the world but I've felt warmly welcomed at all times. 

 Remesa means remittance, wages sent home from abroad. Most overseas Hondurans are working on the States. How long will this continue? After Trump's shameful executive order against Muslims you wonder when he's going to pick on the Latin working community. Odious man.

Lo and behold, a day after writing this blog, I saw this article:

Central American Refugees

It's Wednesday now, if the next couple of days go smoothly then I'll be in Nicaragua by Friday. With mostly flatter terrain between me and Panama I hope to be there by the start of March. Keep reading the blog to see what happens next!