Category: Pura Vida

BOom Bang a Bang 2

So there we were twisting again like we did last summer, round n’ around n’ up n’ down we go again.

We negotiate each bend, each hairpin, on the narrow road moving higher and higher into the mountains. We’re not going fast, just enough to maintain momentum.

Time and time again we make the corner. It’s never easy. It’s never comfortable. We’re constantly on the edge of failing and falling.

It had to happen. Our luck ran out.

We swept round a hairpin corner and at exactly the wrong moment a car descending came round the hairpin corner above us. The car kept coming. Oh yes I have a photo!

We were both travelling about 15 mph and closing fast. I tried to accelerate to the concrete on the right. You can’t really see it from the photo but that’s the inside of the corner and steepest part of the road. I had nowhere else to go. The car kept coming.

That’s when I realised we had a problem. I asked for more power from the bike and it just wasn’t there. The bike couldn’t take us up that side of the road. It didn’t accelerate. The car kept coming.

The bike stalled. It stopped and went down to our right. Oh yes I have a photo!

What an action shot!

As you see I have a foot down. I’m lightning fast. I’m already looking at the spot I’m going to fall because my first priority is to protect my shiny new helmet.

Susan on the other hand is (as we say in Scotland) ‘going doon like a sack o’ tatties’.

Now if you look closely at Susan you may think she’s put on a lot of weight on this trip. Please can I tell you that’s her BOom BOom jacket already inflated. BOooooom. Pssssssssss. Beeeeeeeep beeeeep.

Down we go. We hit the ground then bike and us continue to slide downhill into that concrete rain gutter. Thankfully I stopped when I slid into Susan.

It’s quite disorientating falling off the bike. No matter how many times we do it we just can’t seem to get used to it.

As I’m falling I hear the BOom. I thought it was the bike. Then I realised it’s a BOom BOom vest. Jeez I didn’t feel it going off! Then I realised it wasn’t me.

As well as the beeping from Susan’s BOom BOom vest, the bike is trying to make it’s automatic emergency call.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again. It’s ridiculous to think an old guy like myself can fall off a bike and get to the ‘off’ switch in 30 seconds. I’m still going ‘what the fu*k, what’s happened’ before trying to get my trapped leg out.

What about my vest? Well it hadn’t gone off. Probably because I didn’t go down like a sack of tatties. Saved us £100 for a replacement gas cylinder. Nice. Chalk one up for the dainty big guy.

By this time the two chaps are out the car and helping Susan up. I’m left to get up myself.

Petrol is running out the bike but its just because it’s kind of upside down on the hill.

Thankfully it’s fine. Thankfully I’m fine. Susan is fine too, just looking big.

With the help of the two chaps we righted the bike and I got on. I tried to get up the hill but it kept stalling. We unloaded the cases off the bike and tried again. It stalled. I fell. BANG.

It’s okay though Susan wasn’t on the bike. Just me. She was hot though. I mean sweaty hot. And Big.

The guys helped us for about an hour. We pushed and pulled that bike. One guy was great at helping take the weight of the bike on the steep hill. The other guy was not much use. He must have been the boss. I’m pretty sure he was the driver that kept on coming.

I was absolutely knackered and trembling from the continued effort. One more go. The bike stalled. I fell again. BANG.

This time I not only fell off the bike I rolled down the hill like humpty bloody Dumpty. Oh yes I have photos for your absolute delight.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

It’s all good though. Yes, I now have bruised ribs and rips on my jacket but just look at what Susan is carrying – yup she’s got my nice new shiny helmet keeping it safe. Nice.

What was causing our problems was the bike’s clutch was knackered. Right from the start, we both fell off when it didn’t engage properly and by now it was just downright reluctant.

It was sooooo hot and we decided to wait, let the clutch cool whilst exploring other route options.

A nice couple in a jeep thing arrived and offered to take Susan and the luggage to the next town. They loaded the panniers into their car.

I was hesitant about trying it again. Everyone is looking at me. The two guys from the car that kept on coming. The two people in the car that were trying to take Susan and luggage to the next town. The five of them were silently staring Humpty down.

Then in the quiet of the mountain stillness, Susan uttered these immortal words ‘one more time Cliff, one more time’.

Now I’d like to paint a movie scene where Susan looks at me (you know the kind of looks you used to get on Little House On The Prairie), pats me on the shoulder, comforts me with encouragement in her eyes and says those immortal words.

But I always paint the truth.

She said these immortal words as she started climbing into the bloody car!

I shouted. ‘Don’t get into the bloody car, I have even decided if I can do ‘one more time!’

To be honest, I don’t know when I would have given up. I was nearly there but not quite. I had one more try. I felt the pressure from the silent five pairs of eyes looking at me as if I needed to get a grip.

I really was at my limit. I was struggling. I was soaking sweating. I was trembling from sheer exhaustion. I felt battered and bruised.

By this time the clutch had cooled a bit and I gave it ‘one more time Cliff’.

The bike roared, the clutch slipped, it shuddered, it picked up and touch and bloody go, I made it to the top of the hill. Humpty rises!

The 10 mile journey to the next town was helter skelter and treacherous although the road improved. It’s okay don’t worry – ‘one more time’ Susan was quite happy in the car.

Here’s a photo of the changeover when the couple gave me the luggage and ‘one more time’ Susan back.

We packed up again. Susan had to zip up her inflated BOom BOom vest because we still had another 90 minutes of riding over mountains to our destination. Did I mention I was shaken and at my limit? Well we couldn’t stop, there was no other option.

Thankfully, the roads were two way and not so hazardous.

And so we’ve seen photos of humpty rolling down the hill so it’s only fair we see a photo of Susan to make us smile. Here’s 42 GG ‘one more time’ Susan.

So that’s part 2 of BOom Bang Bang.

What about the dodgy clutch ‘humpty’?

Well that’s another story for another day.

It got worse. Much worse!

You wouldn’t believe how much worse if I told you!

Hola Costa Rica

We had an overnight stop in David and as Susan had a difficult day with the onset of heatstroke I gave her the choice of evening meal. Yes, I know sometimes I just ooze kindness and empathy.

She chose McDs. Honestly what gets into her? In the UK you would have to drag Susan kicking and screaming into a McDs but on the road she’s like a donkey looking for a carrot!

Next day we made a dash for the border with Costa Rica. Up at 0530am and at the border for 8am when it’s quieter. As they say in the army somewhere ‘we don’t fanny around’.

The Panamanian border was chaos. It’s like a shanty town and there’s random screwballs everywhere trying to ‘help’. I abandon the bike and some guy asks me for our passports. He looks like a random screwball. No chance. Trust no-one is my philosophy.

We enter immigration office, get processed and then it’s back out into chaos. Another random screwball asks me for the bike import permit. No chance. We walk into the customs hall. It’s empty. Back outside. Ah, that random screwball is actually the customs guy. He takes our bike import permit and logs us out of Panama.

On the bike and off we go looking for the Costa Rica border which is supposedly 4 km down the road.

10km zooming later we’re in Costa Rica and heading to our hotel. Great you think. Well we just have a minor problem – we haven’t been though Costa Rica immigration and we don’t have an import permit for the bike.

We had passed a big building that looked like an Amazon warehouse but there was no indication we should go in. In fact I’m comfortable saying only stupid people who didn’t know what they were doing would have entered.

So we entered the compound where the stupid people go and found to our intellectual surprise it was the border station.

It was hot and so Susan stood in the air conditioned customs hall whilst Clif worked like a middle Eastern donkey and unloaded the bike.

(authors note: the previous paragraph has been changed by ‘big chief editor’.I actually wrote that ‘I worked like a hot roasted monkey with a rocket up it’s arse’. However, ‘big chief editor’ changed the content and I was given the following feedback – firstly, it’s cruel to animals; secondly, only 2% of ‘my’ friends (‘my’ friends, totally excluding ‘big chief editors’ friends) would think it was funny!)

So there you are. I’ve been censored and the content is no doubt more acceptable to ‘big chief editor’s’ friends and 98% of my friends. All I can say is you lot need to stop worrying about animals and get a sense of humour!

We stripped off our motorcycle gear and walked through the scanners and Susan remarked that she was glad she decided that morning to wear a t shirt under her BOom BOom vest. Close call Susan! She was nearly walking through the customs hall in her bra.

Some guy then stuck us with a pin to get a blood sample for a malaria test. It was nippy sore but I was a brave wee soldier.

Whilst Susan stood under the air conditioning, I completed the customs and insurance procedures and loaded the bike. Honestly, I was running about like a ‘hot roasted mo…..’. Oops there I go again. Sorry.

As we were about to leave, almost as an afterthought, a chap asked if the bike been fumigated. No says ‘honest Susan’. ‘Where do we get it fumigated?’ ‘Back in Panamanian Border Shanty Town! Three cheers for honest Susan!

As soon as we hit the Panamanian Border Shanty Town all sorts of random screwballs were all over us offering to ‘help’.

We spotted a big wet shed that looked like it could be the place. An ‘official’ guided us in and in reasonable English helped me place the bike in the right spot to get sprayed.

It’s time for a photo and as Susan wasn’t in her bra in the customs hall the best photo you’re going to get is a bike in a wet shed.

Meanwhile it turns out the nice English speaking ‘official’ who helped us was actually a bloody random screwball!

Well done random screwball you got under my screwball radar. He earned his $2 tip. On reflection, I should have spotted the real official because he was grumpy, spoke no English and had a clipboard. You live and learn.

As a side issue, the disinfectant spray started my driving lights working again. It must have been bugs in the system! (groan).

Once we were all legal we motorcycled down the lovely twisty well paved roads in Costa Rica. Unfortunately it’s single carraigeway with double yellow lines down the centre of the road. No overtaking!

You may think we’re two easy riders ..

‘moving on the Queens highway lookin’ like a streak of lightnin’. If you gotta go, go, gotta go motor bike ridin’

(there’s a song reference for you)

Except we’ve got a conscience. And more to the point it’s a bloody mind reading conscience! Oh and I think you’ve already guessed it can’t possibly be me with a conscience!

You see there we were, happy zooming along at the 80 kph speed limit with a few cars in front of us when all I hear in my ear is ‘these yellow lines mean that this will be an accident area and so it’s dangerous and the police will be patrolling’.

Who needs your own conscience when there’s one on the back of your bike! Yup I’ve got my own Jiminy Cricket!

(there’s a movie reference for you)

Oh, I know she’s right. We all know she’s bloody right! And she’s right to say it to a man that’s singing ‘streak of lightnin’ to himself.

Then, fate puts a slow moving lorry loaded high with wood and a twenty car tailback in front of the man with no conscience……..

Suddenly Pinocchio can’t hear Jiminy Cricket and with a quick swerve and a twist of the throttle we’re ‘lookin’ like a streak of lightin’ …..

Hola Costa Rica highway.