swamp: Mexistan and Central Bunghole

Discussion in 'Epic Rides' started by swamp, Apr 24, 2013.

  1. swamp

    swamp U lie&yo'breff stank

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    it was hotter than the face of the Sun. thats why.
  2. BrianA

    BrianA Enjoy every sandwich

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    Yep. That would make good sense.
    Just more confirmation that I can often be dumber than I look.
  3. windowto

    windowto Been here awhile

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    You don't look dumb, just a little blue in the face :lol3.
  4. Toiretto

    Toiretto Getting into it!

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    Cool pictures! Thanks for sharing. The pyramids are just awesome! I wish I could visit those wonderful places someday. Keep posting please.
  5. BamaTexRider

    BamaTexRider MOTO-MIKE

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    WELL:ear
  6. BRUTSQD

    BRUTSQD 2 scoops of stupid

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    Anticip..................
  7. GRinCR

    GRinCR Oppressed Nomad

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    Mucho :ddog = :dutch
  8. swamp

    swamp U lie&yo'breff stank

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    jeez.

    hold on ill copy some stuff over. :lol3
  9. swamp

    swamp U lie&yo'breff stank

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    El Cruce Guatamala to Las Lajas Honduras
    Sunday April 14th 2013
    Begin ride at 4:00




    Too many roosters crowing. Tiny Chihuahua barking at me as I load up the bike which wakes up the maintenance guy who opens the gate for me. Today I will ride south near the Guatemalan / Belize border to cross over into Honduras. I had read that Honduran border crossing was the most time consuming border in Central America. Reading things like this will always cause anxiety. I really shouldn’t read so much.

    The air was damp and to my surprise, cold. I couldn’t believe that my teeth were chattering. The enduro jersey and vented pants were not going to cut it. While packing for the trip, I had decided to stuff a lightweight Gore-Tex jacket in my saddlebag for unexpected rain showers; looks like it would now be playing double duty as a windbreaker.

    As the Sun came up I was riding through a thick, cold fog heading into the mountains. This area of Guatemala is absolutely beautiful. The land is lush and covered with “China Man’s Hat” style mountains. The roads are all twisted, mountain switchbacks with green, dripping, jungle encroaching from all sides.

    Up into the mountains and then down into a fog covered valley. The mountains began to separate. Imagine a bunch of 1000ft tall, jungle covered ice-cream cones turned upside down and sideways on a 50 mile x 50 mile square of cow pasture with a twisty road weaving between the gaps and over the larger ridges. .. well, not exactly like that description I suppose but pretty close.

    Journal april 14th 2013
    "Man selling goat milk.
    Woman with two kids carrying a basket on her head filled with heavy things.
    Boy leading a horse next to the road.
    Beautiful landscape: “I’m living inside of a painting”. This is what I came for; This feeling and These sights and experiences. "



    Got Milk ?
    Roadside Goat Milk Vendor (Guatemala)

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    Journal from April 14th 2013 20:07
    Somewhere between Las Lajas and Taulabe
    “Swamp’s Skanky Garage Motel”

    (listening to Astrix)

    "Long ride today, my stopwatch reads 11hr 52’ 58.

    I rode the bike all the way from Tikal to where I am now in Honduras. I crossed the Guatemala/ Honduras boarder at El Florido.. at around 12:00
    Nobody hassled me; all of the employees (on both sides) were kind, courteous and helpful. Not many travelers there on a Sunday. It was 200% better than the Belize Guatemala boarder ((“why do I keep spelling Border wrong ?”))

    Rode Southeast near the belize/ Guat. Line. “china man’s hat “ –esq mountains. Road weaves all around them and up on top of the larger ones. Foggy. Cool. Morning. Used my heated grips. Nice.

    (side note)Bike is weeping oil out of the filler cap. I noticed it at the start of the ride in mexico. I think I overfilled it. Ill keep an eye on it. If it gets low ill just put more in it.

    At La Ruidosa we head WSW between Lago Izabal and the Honduran border. This road sucked. It was flat and filled with 18 wheelers. Basically me hauling the groceries, passing everyone on the road for the next few hours while huffing diesel fumes and feeling like I had been made to sprint naked, a mile up-hill then immediately be covered in baking flour and water.

    (Squirrel Thoughts)

    As I had actually eaten Real Food last night, I had to stop twice (remarkably both at Texaco Stations with squeaky clean bathrooms) … to shit. I always find it amusing that in some countries they have a little basket where, after I wipe my ass, I’m supposed to throw the paper. They want everyone to throw their shit covered paper into the basket instead of flush it down the toilet. WHY? This is just sick to me, I’ve never gotten used to this little basket filled with nasty, turd-covered paper. Why is it that some countries simply can’t figure out how to flush a wad of paper covered in human shit down the god damn toilet?

    Nearing the Honduran border the tension was building as it always does before a border crossing. To make matters worse; before departing I had read multiple ride reports with postings such as: “ohh Honduras borders are absolutely terrible! It takes at least six hours to get across! Oh the tramitadores this oh the tramitadores that”. I began imagining all these stinky, gremlin, will-not-take-no-for-an-answer, con-artist-type-people desperately latching onto me as they looked with covetous eyes upon this shining beacon of capitalism that had just arrived on the wings of an unrestricted, eardrum shattering exhaust note. I might as well be wearing a white toga, a little olive branch crown atop my head and riding a winged fucking Pegasus…"



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    Honduras Customs Officer “cowboy”
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    His TV-watching Supervisor

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    Honduras “Land of the Pothole”

    Hours of mountain roads and beautiful scenery after the border crossing had me mellowed out; hanging in the wind. Everything was all-the-time.
    It had been a while since I had done ANY road riding. Before beginning this ride I had been spending all of my riding time in the woods on my Husqvarna or putting around on my GasGas trials bike. I had forgotten how enjoyable a good string of twisty pavement could be.

    I stopped in a small town just before the Copan Ruins.

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    All of the streets were made of brick, many of the bricks were now either completely missing or jacked up out of their original positions in the earth. Let’s just say it was a little bumpy here. I rode around the town square a few times, took a small moto-tour of the place then brought up a new destination on the Oregon300. I would ride NE to San Marcos then turn SE towards Tegucigalpa.

    (squirrel thoughts) One of the nicest things about traveling on a motorcycle is that it enables you to explore new cities from the perspective of a pedestrian; its like being part of the crowd but not actually walking with them. You can see, hear, smell and learn a lot about a new place by riding around in it for 20 minutes.

    Potholes. I will always remember Honduras for one thing and that is it’s abundance of massive, bus-tire-swallowing potholes. It was absolutely unbelievable how many potholes there were and what was even more unbelievable was that the locals were prepared to kill me rather than hit a pothole.

    The roads are so covered in potholes that drivers were actually swerving into each other’s lanes to avoid these things. This has to be one of the most dangerous places to ride a motorcycle on earth, I am not exaggerating. It didn’t take long for me to get used to the local driving style of “I would rather kill you than hit this pothole”. A few sedans swerving into your lane while you are riding at 50+mph will make you do two things very quickly: 1. Wake the fuck up and 2. Slow the fuck down.
    I saw AT LEAST two chicken buses pulled over on the side of the road repairing flat tires. One green and yellow bus named something like “Sun Walker” was changing a tire in the middle of a mountain road. Two guys were removing the tire from the rim with a sledge hammer and an old plank of wood. Next to the bus was a pothole 3ft deep by 4ft wide and a spackling of around 10 smaller baby Satan potholes within the mother-hole’s immediate vicinity.

    I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Some of the worst roads I’ve ever been on are unmaintained paved roads. If the powers that be would have just left the roads as dirt, there would not be this pothole problem.. there would be some other kind of problem.

    I was stopped a number of times at police checkpoints while riding in the mountainous regions. Most would just glance at my passport and wave me on however at one of the checkpoints they made me pull off to the side of the road, check all my papers, remove my helmet and started asking a lot of questions that I couldn’t answer because I couldn’t understand the question… does that make sense? I kept repeating Tegucigalpa, Tegucigalpa, Panama, Panama, USA, USA but apparently these were not the magic words. It really pissed them off that I couldn’t understand what they were asking me. Eventually they gave up, pointed at his watch then told me to get the hell out of there. ((“why did he point at his watch?”)) This I will never know.

    I began keeping an eye out for a good camping spot. One thing I noticed about this area of Honduras was that all of the land had fences around it; honestly it was pretty impressive how well the fencing was done and how clean the lines were (definitely a lot of machete work going on around here).


    It was getting dark by the time I had reached Comayagua; I had given up on the idea of camping and was wondering if I was going to find a motel or not. Somewhere between Las Lajas and Taulabe there is what I would call a village. It has some concrete buildings and a gas station. After the gas station there are about 20 little wooden shack-like homes next to the road. Between two of these homes there is a dirt road with a yellow sign that reads “MOTEL” in red.


    I turn in and ride the alley way until I see a large metal gate on rollers, the top of the gate has some type of flesh eating wire spooled around it. The facility is surrounded by a concrete wall then a steel high fence on top of the wall. Sitting on a chair outside of the gate is a skinny man of around sixty wearing an old straw hat, a well-worn red and yellow button down shirt; he has thick black plastic glasses, the lenses of which look like they came out of some gag joke shop.


    He pushes the gate open enough for me to roll in. I kill the bike and a big, thick woman comes over to talk to me. I ask for a room for one person for one knight. I pay her 350 Lempira, she points to two green, steel garage doors one of which is open. I roll my bike inside the garage and she shuts the heavy door behind me and slams the rebar door catch into its concrete receiver hole in the ground. ((“strange people ‘round these parts”))
    Put the bike on the center-stand. All clothing off. I throw away my sox and underwear. This is the point where I decided I didn’t need any underwear for the rest of the trip so I threw it all in the trash.. all two pairs of it.


    The room was painted “insane asylum” turquoise and white. There was a light that must have been powered by two AA batteries leftover from 1981. The bed-sheet had a number printed on it and was covered in yellow circles. Next to the bed there was a towel. On top of this towel (where usually I would expect to see a small bar of Rose Venus soap) were a few, made in Vietnam, condoms. ((“hey wait a minute here, what kind of motel is this?”))


    My bike began leaking and forming a puddle of gas just outside my window. The rest of the night consisted of eating melted protein bars, huffing a hellacious amount of gas fumes while in a hot, humid room with damp sheets, gear organization and reading a book. I tried to get the porno channel to work but all I got were numbers and static. I took a shower but I felt dirtier after the shower than before the shower. There was a “hot-air conditioner” that turned on for 10 seconds then would stop, requiring me to walk across the room to push the button again. It sucked gas puddle filled air out of the garage area and blew it into the room which meant it was blowing more gas fumes into the room along with the ones that were seeping in from the shutter style windows. I didn’t sleep very well that night but I was glad I to have a place to sleep.



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    while doing my post-ride inspection I discovered that my radiator guard had broken

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    <iframe width="853" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/YOvR1tq9kPA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>







    .......if you are looking for more detailed information (border crossing checklists/ maps/gps coordinates/more words more pictures and generally more) go here---> enduroearth.com
  10. Gentri in GA

    Gentri in GA Been here awhile

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    Enjoying your RR, Swamp! :D

    Gotta love finding out your hotel is a "by the hour" hotel. You can go there and hide your car from your better half, parents, friends, local Priest, etc, in the garage while you hook up in 4 hour or 8 hour time blocks... not sure if this is typical due to Catholicism in Mexico/Central America, but saw these all over on my Latin America trips. Decently priced for what they are for a someone in need of a room to just, uh, sleep in! :evil

    Ride safe and thanks for sharing your adventures.
  11. miniboxer

    miniboxer Adventurer

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    Separating the paper from the shit allows better composting and gives better crops by using the compost on the fields, if there is no better source available.
  12. swamp

    swamp U lie&yo'breff stank

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    Ah I see, but why eat food that grows out of human shit?
  13. Sh4ft

    Sh4ft Beater

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    It was my understanding that you don't flush the TP as it would clog the plumbing...
  14. junglemototours

    junglemototours trailplug

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    Don't have that problem with 'bama outhouses huh?
  15. windowto

    windowto Been here awhile

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    I think this subject has been, well, exhausted and wiped :rofl...
  16. BenThere

    BenThere Been here awhile

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    Swamp, you have great sense of adventure and a real knack for writing. Thanks for taking us along.

    Looking forward to the next installment.
  17. swamp

    swamp U lie&yo'breff stank

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    :lol3 nah we just dig another hole then move the shitter over a little bit, the pigs love it.

    thanks for taking the time to read :freaky
  18. Redclayrider

    Redclayrider Long time gone

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    Sooo gooooood. :clap
  19. SS in Vzla.

    SS in Vzla. Totally Normal? I'm not!

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    Nice update. Looking forward to more :deal
  20. atravlr

    atravlr Been here awhile

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    Almost all those sex hotels are located outside small towns and cities. Lots of them are actually cleaner than hotels that are in the small towns (always ask for a discount for having no sex). If you see the word Pension that also means its a small home with a room for rent, similar to a bed and breakfast lodging. They usually have a parking space and a home cooked meal as well. Stay safe.