Panama

I got in mind to get myself stashed into a little surf/ fishing village along the pacific coast. Staying put for a few days so as to get things caught up, hammered out and spackled. Till then I´ll let Dave do the singing.   

Costa Rica (with new pics)

Volcanic islands, the Pacific surf, and the cycling company of Germans

I rode a decent chunk of the Pan-americana, though turned off towards Granada. A colonial city at the top of Largo de Nicarauga. At the hostal de Libertad I met Matius and Jaspar (some fair skinned Danes), with them on rented bikes we explored the penisula de Asese. A great day getting lost on gravel roads and eventually finding a beautiful swimming spot, among jungle vines and little islands.
  They had come out for a taste of my lifestyle and that night they showed me theirs. Those guys we nightlife assasins, we killed the night and I'm glad it was the right hostal I woke up in.
  The next day there was a loaded touring bike parked in the hostal courtyard. It belonged to Jurgen (umlauts above the u) , he has been riding since Anchorage. We did some work to his rig and set out the next morning for Isla de Ometepe. Jurgen had been riding with Silke the last few weeks (the german woman Kelly and I had met back in the Yucatan).  She was already on the island and met us at the ferry when we got off. The 3 of us camped on the edge of the lake, the next day swimming at ojo de agua. That night we set up camp at Finca de Magdalena , preparing for an assult on the volcano Maderas the next morning.
  The climb started out hot and dry but soon turned slippery, wet and muddy. The top was pretty anticlimatic since all we could see was the grey cloud we were in. Kind of like if you sloppily frosted a cupcake up sidedown.
  Silke and I said good bye to Jurgen and went off in search of free camping. We found a great spot not far away with a fantastic sunset view that more than made up for the lack of earlier.
  There is also a rocky heart rate readout of a road around the volcano Maderas. An excellent road for the off pavement enthusiast, not so much for the other. Silke didn't quite enjoy herself the way i did. She really is carring a massive amount of gear and its all a bit top heavy. Watching her push up the rocky slopes was kinda like watching someone eat a box of kleenex, painful. ( I tried to help when ever prudent but with most touring cyclist there is a certain pride in getting your own bike over whats in front of you) She prevailed and we made it around and found another lake side camp spot, full circle.
  The Che Geuvara car ferry got us back to the mainland. We cranked it over to the Pacific in time for another sunset and beach camp spot.
  We are now in San Juan del Sur. I gotta say the thing I do appreciate about ex-pats is their coffe shops. Its a nice treat to find a place that has a real and truely well constructed cup of coffee. In San Juan, you can find that at the El gato Negro.

   Cut and dry there you have it. I'm still without a camera cord or card reader but hopefully I'll come across one soon. So still no pics fer a bit. And those of you who follow the SPOT, the batteries are dead, Kelly is sending me new ones to San Jose, Costa rica. I wish it was her that was being sent in, but that time will come.
 

The great Nicaraguan pedal fest.

Picture you self as a rock. Now pitch yourself at a bees nest. Thats how I felt at the Honduras/ Nicaraguan border. Swarmed by money changers, taxi drivers, truckers, cops, border agents, beggers, beggers helpers, donkeys and children. I had my passport checked, rechecked and then checked again before zooming down into this new country. It nice to turn leaves and reset the where-abouts in that grander kind of scale.Like Limperas to Cordobas and many new brands of coffee. There so far are alot more smiles and waves that make the day for a passing cyclist. Even the guy who slowed to tow me up a long grade on his motorcycle, is surely helping to warm my heart to Nicaragua. I´m bound for the west side and the string of vocanos out there. I think there is gonna be some surfing in my near future as well.  

Leg disembowelment

I've cut a nice trail away from the Carribean coast. Dusty, washboard Moutain roads, seems like all of honduras is on fire. Something of a controlled burn that is not to controlled. The smoke burns the lungs and cast a haze over the sun making it a red orb in the sky.  I'm certainly not used to riding my old pace. I have either been laying soft on the pedals or checking over my shoulder every few minutes for the last 9 months. No that it was a bad thing to slow down a bit and enjoy things from a moderated pace. The company was good too. It just came as a bit of a shock to the legs at the speed and distance my mind wanted to ride. I guess I'm also trying to put Honduras behind me, my least favorite country pretty much of all time.
  I'm in the pueblo of Talanga and should be crossing into Nicaragua tomorrow.
   I gotta get a new camera cord before I can post any pictures but I'll try and keep the reports a bit less sporatic these days. Time fer lunch and a some pedaling! 

As the irrelative weight of rolling stones and sheer magnitude of tumble weeds we find ourselves riding in the lee of repercussions.

   With the ease of putting on a poncho backwards and or whacking a mad slice at our first attempt at high velocity mini-golf, some changes come easy. Others leave lumps in the throat and are tough to scratch with sandpaper.
   This is the part where I admit that Kelly has gone back to New Jersey. The loss of her brother and the strain of this ever shifting and difficult way of living had taken its toll. She is the toughest female I have ever know but some things just get the better of the best. She is gonna take a time out, convalesce and we'll see her out and plowing the fields of the unknown again at a later time. She is all the stronger and intellegent in my mind for knowing when to call it. She is never one to think of herself and always trying to please others, but in this case, Kelly needs Kelly time. Samu and I will miss her everyday.

   So the change of agenda for me is to not  to plunk into the swamps and rainforrests of the Moskitia. Instead I'm gonna stomp some pedals over dusty highlands towards Nicaragua and the Pacific coast. Eat, sleep, ride. Just what I love to do!

One bend, a fart and a fish

We are plowing along nicely through the montains of  Hondurus. The roads have been rocky and steep but we have been loving i!. It a nice break to be up higher in some dry, pine forrest. Though soon we will be plunging and bumping back to the swelter of the Carribean.
  A cyclist by the name of Zack, came and went. We shared a few good days and some rugged terrain together but he has gone off  to persue other, less english spoken roads . We are now also pedaling with Anna Wishfish. She has been riding since Alaska and is quite a hearty Austrailian, old enough to be Kelly´s mom.
  I´ll get some pics up on this beast in Trullio.   

We need no stinking badges!

Ok er... ya well I once again am opting out of typing. Cuz that takes an attention span and mine dosen´t exactly span to far. We´re now running a in parade of 4 and bound for the Honduran Moskita coast. We´ve heard tale of some fantasticy long single track action out there, so were gonna see about running it down!
    I swear at some point I´ll sit down and catch up on the recent tales. Though for now if it involves any kind of work, that will be in the saddle of my bike. 

facination and love of a land unknown

trbidi="on">

Ahhh... those are the comfy undies I remember

Like rats in a hay loft, hoses in an orchard, pigs in the mud and seagulls at the dump! Man, do I feel back in my element, reinspired for life on a bike and being constantly out of doors! With the life dream resumed, we are happily pedaling into the wayward mulligan. Thank you to everyone in the New Jersey, New York, California and Colorado areas that helped us out with new gear, fantastic meals and many other random acts of kindness. It was nice meeting all of you that I met for the first time and great to see again some old friends.