52. 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 was 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 who 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?

51. 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!

50. Pastures new - El Salvador and Honduras

 After a week teaching in La Candelaria I needed a drink so, in my final night in Guatemala, I had a few cans of Gallo to unwind. 

 For the last week I've been making steady progress east through the Central American isthmus. Hopping from town to town, it's been a series of gentle rides, rarely covering more than 40 miles in a day.

   Leaving the coast I took a boat from Monterrico to La Avellana, a short cut to propel me towards the border. The short journey took me through mangroves with exotic herons and kingfishers visible from the boat.         

 It's been a fantastic, tranquil week on the bike. I knew very little about El Salvador before I arrived, just that it used the US dollar, it's the most densely populated Central American state and that it was embroiled in violent civil conflict in the 1980s. Unfortunately it still has a reputation for crime and violence and 12th January was the first day in more than two years without a homicide. This appears to put tourists off; many backpackers I met in Guatemala were planning to fly to Nicaragua to skip El Salvador and Honduras. What a pity, there're missing out on two countries with great scenery, shy but welcoming people and undeveloped places not yet affected by the usual trappings of tourism.

Also, it is very important to add that, I have heard of no account of tourists being affected by violence, this is gang and drug related and tourists are not a target. Come and visit these places if you wish to get off the beaten track! 

 Lago de Coatepeque, a volcanic lake in the southern extension of the Sierra de Madre. On the Pacific side of this mountain range the climate was humid and tropical supporting lush vegetation whereas, passing to the landward side, in the rain shadow of the mountains the climate was dry supporting pine forests. Humid or dry, the temperature soars in the middle of the day.

 This environmental problem does regularly detract from the beauty of the rides - rubbish strewn across the verges. There appears to be a massive lack of education; I frequently see people simply dropping their litter in the streets or cans/plastic bottles being hurled from buses.

I rarely take a plastic bag from shops and sometimes get strange looks when I say ''Sin bolsa por favor.'' It's just not customary to refuse a bag.     

 As mentioned  earlier, this part of the world is off the tourist trail and hardly abounding with touristic sights or activities. For me, this is much of the charm. However, each town's modest attractions tend to include plazas and churches, a focal point for the community.

 My stay in El Salvador was short and sweet, just four days. Between Metapan and Citala I found a dirt track that took me high through the pine clad hills before descending to the border with Honduras. Echoes of the Great Divide Trail in the States.

   As I took a picture of this stationary bus the driver jumped off for a quick chat. Having lived in the States he knew a bit of English and was keen to practice.    

 My photos don't really do the scenery justice but, trust me, the hills of Western Honduras are really lovely.   

 I knew my first full day riding in Honduras was going to be a tough one, the first 13 miles were up all the way, a 4000ft rise. I never really recovered in the remaining 43 miles!

It didn't help that my card got blocked on arrival here so I had to faff about in the morning phoning the bank to unblock the card then getting cash out. This delayed my start so I couldn't take full advantage of the early morning cool.

  At least the road was pretty decent and wide. I often think that, better than GDP per capita, life expectancy or birth rate, a country's level of development should be measured by a 'Driving Quality Index.' Honduras would score a measly 3 in my book. ''Few roads signs, rarely observed. Mobile phone used by drivers most of the time. Consideration to other road users perceived as a sign of weakness.''

 

After about 40 miles I was really struggling with the heat and climbs. A guardian angel in a pick-up offered me a ride and I wavered for a moment, I was ready to break my 'do it under my own steam' rule. But I was not led into temptation and battled on. On the point of collapse I stopped at a roadside shop to stock up on water, all they had was Coca-Cola, something I usually try to avoid as much as possible. I went for the 2 litre bottle and promptly downed the first litre! 

As a coping strategy for the final push onto Santa Rosa de Copan, I decided to stop every mile for a little break and a glug of the remaining sugary tooth-rot. I just about made it into town, 8000ft of climbing for the day.  

 These moments make the tough rides worth it. Showered and stretched, I always feel a tremendous sense of wellbeing and serenity after preceding hardship. The coffee tastes all the richer for having truly suffered to truly earn it. 

 Santa Rosa de Copan

 So this is where it comes from. Coffee beans drying out in the searing midday heat.

 Honduras health and safety, plug sockets in the shower.

 

 These river scenes are very pretty but also mark the lowest point in the valley. The only way is up....

And the same goes for the fundraising. The total is rising steadily and I'm nearly 80% of the way to my £2000 target. Thank you so much for the donations, it's going to a great cause and provides wonderful motivation in the tougher moments (another hard ride lined up tomorrow!).

If I hit my £2000 target I'll push the target up to £3000, please help!

49. Paradise Lost? Volunteering on the Pacific Coast

Following the volcano trek I took a days rest in Antigua and, truth be told, I was chomping at the bit to continue south. Two days ride in the cooler climes of mountain roads would see me reach El Salvador, making actual and, as importantly, psychological progress in my journey through the Central American countries. However, I had a long standing commitment to spend a week on the coast, volunteering as an English teacher in a primary school.

 So, riding from the volcanic mountains of Antigua I exchanged the agreeably crisp days and chilly nights for the heat of the coast and, inevitably, mosquitoes. How I detest the bitey little buggers! 

After more days off the bike I felt a bit rusty but, riding downhill, in one section of my 70 mile journey I recorded the fastest 40km/25 miles of the trip, taking just 1h14m. Don't be too impressed, gravity did the work, not me. 

 My home for the next week was La Candelaria, a small community 8km west of the tourist town of Monterrico. I had a homestay lined up, living with Hilda, a fisherman, his wife, Mierna, and three kids, Jose, Alejandra and Danilo.

What a change in pace it was to stay here. Time moves slowly; one of my great pleasures of the stay was to lie in the hammock, reading. Occasionally I felt a little guilt for my idle hammock stints as Mierna was constantly cooking, cleaning, collecting firewood for the stove and managing the kids. I did try to lend a hand at times with tasks such as the washing up and shifting firewood. I also unselfishly made sure my plate was always left clean ready to be washed and a couple of times walked all of 100m to buy beer to go with lunch. A heroic contribution.

 Lots of fish consumed this week and, for once in this trip, I believe I've put on weight.    

     

 Another great pleasure was evening visits to the beach for an hour of reading, journal writing or podcast listening before watching the sunset over the Pacific. The grey beaches were often deserted, my only company seabirds - squadrons of pelicans overhead, sandpipers skipping along the shoreline, always just out of reach of the waves and the occasional malevolent, marauding frigate bird far out at sea.

 

  While I always endeavour to write an upbeat blog which frames my experiences as positively as possible I have to be honest about the teaching, it was really hard work! (though this class pictured was the exception, a dream to work with)

    I suspected/feared my first day might pan out as it did, in typically unstructured Guatemalan fashion. I walked down to the school with Jorge, the project coordinator, to meet the teachers and work out a schedule. Hardly had we done this then I was introduced to a class and the teacher immediately said to me ''Te dejo a enseñar la clase de inglés.'' I'll leave you to teach an English lesson. No planning time, no period of acclimatisation, straight in at the deep end!      

 I have had stints of teaching primary level English in other volunteering placements in Africa and while living in Japan but, even so, being thrust into the classroom so suddenly was challenging. At least for the first lesson the class teacher stayed in the room, in lessons two and three the class teachers were out the door before I could say ''My name is Daniel.'' And the battle began. Trying to deliver a lesson on the hoof, switching between delivering instructions in English and Spanish and being the behaviour manager of, at first, surprisingly restless classes was, let's say, demanding.  

 At least the lessons were short, 30-40 minutes each (the variation in timings caused further confusion to me). And, for all the restlessness of the classes, there wasn't an ounce of malice in the students, just a lack of attention and, amongst a few, a lack of interest. 6 months out of the classroom, maybe I've just lost my touch. Maybe I never had it...

On Tuesday, after the classes, I asked the principal for the next days plan. She told me the teachers had a meeting, there were no classes and I was free. I'd barely turned away before a broad smile broke out across my face and I walked out muttering ''The reprieve, the reprieve.'' just about under my breath.

 Jorge is aware of some of the issues and soon the school will move to new premises. Here the volunteering project will have its own dedicated English teaching room decorated with posters and pictures promoting the language. The change in environment should make a big difference to the atmosphere in which students learn English and hopefully improve their application and progress.

Also, I should add that, by the end if the week the students had gotten used to me and were more compliant and engaged. My reprimands in Spanish had improved too, the ''I'm an unpaid volunteer here to try and help you.'' line was one of the more effective ones.

 For all its challenges, I'm glad I took the time to volunteer to teach. It's entirely within the spirit of the charity aspect of my trip, fundraising for OXFAM to help fund grassroots development projects. I ride away with a feeling of relief at finishing the job and satisfaction, hard-earned, at having got through the A curious dichotomy but ultimately rewarding. Also, deep down, I know that the biggest problem with my volunteering stint is that I've done it as a short term 'add-on' to my journey whereas to make a real difference I would have needed to stay longer making a bigger commitment to the project. 

 

 On fundraising, last week I received an email from JustGiving informing me that my OXFAM page was in the top 5% top earners in 2016. Result! And it's down to you as I know many of the blog readers are also donators. However, I've still got a way to go to reach my target so why not make contribution to fight poverty? The address is at the top of the blog or simply click on the JustGiving button.