Tag: Nicaragua

Nightmare In Nicaragua 5

Okay, I’m happy – if you don’t count the add on movies we’ve matched Rocky 5.

So where were we?

Oh yes, the melodramatic Susan has just fainted on a motorcycle moving at 55mph on the Nicaraguan highway.

Be calm. Just be calm whilst I tell you what a hero I was – nobody falls off my bike unless I’m falling off myself!

So when I felt Susan’s head keep hitting my back I immediately knew what was happening. I shouted

‘Susan, Susan!’

I reach around and hold her with my left arm. I’m now riding one handed. No problem if you’re going straight. Big problem if you want to pull in to a very narrow hard shoulder with wasteland next to it.

I had to get her to sit up.

‘Susan’ I shout again.

Finally, I hear ‘whaaaaaaaaaaat’

‘You’ve fainted’

‘whaaaaaaaaaat’

Then, ‘have I?’

‘Sit up’, ‘SIT UP’ ‘YOU NEED TO SIT UP!’

I feel her sitting up, I let her go and steer the bike into the side. We’re right on the edge of the paved road and only just off the main carraigeway. Heavy vehicles thunder passed.

I try to put the side stand down. I can’t. The camber on the road is too high and the bike stand is too close to the ground. Susan has to get off.

‘You have to get OFF!’

‘mmm mmumble’

‘I can’t’

‘GET OFF THE BIKE!’

She has to get off the bike so I can pull the stand down and get off the bike myself. We’re stuck until she does.

Slowly, very slowly she gets off the bike and I get the stand down.

We’re in the middle of nowhere.

I get Susan out of her jacket, hat and BOom BOom vest, give her water and I lie her down in the leaves with my gloves as her pillow.

Twenty minutes later she sits up.

I know you want a photo so paparazzi Clif steps up. I’m sorry I’m only pandering to my audience and you’re my audience. It’s essentially your fault I take photos of Susan in her times of desperation. You should be ashamed of your behaviour!

Now I took two photos. The first one she looked awful. So I asked her to smile. Here is the second photo.

After 30 minutes she tries to get back on the bike.

She has two failed attempts – each time the jacket and helmet go on she falters, feels sick and lies down.

I strap the BOom BOom jacket to the bike. I strap her jacket to the bike. I pack her leather gloves.

Less safe on the bike with less protection. More safe on the bike being cooler.

At this point Susan decides to take my initiative to the next level – she wants her pants off!

Jeezo Susan!

Let me explain. Underneath Susan’s goretex double lined trousers she wears motorcycle lycra short pants with thick padding on the hips. Just in case we fall to the ground.

She decides she wants them off!

Jeezoooo Susan!

Now I’m a caring guy but this is not the place to take your trousers off. Anything could be lying under that straw and leaf stuff.

But she wants them off and who am I to say no to an irrational hot headed woman?

So I kneel and take off her boots.

I kneel and pull down her trousers. No easy task when they’re double lined and she’s behaving like she’s a rag doll.

Then I pull down the padded shorts!

Now I know exactly what you’re thinking – you’re thinking ‘oh paparazzi Clif I wish you hadn’t been so busy saving Susan that you had time to take a photo of this scene!

Well I was too bloody busy saving Susan and you should be bloody ashamed of yourself for thinking I would stop my rescue to take a photo for your salacious pleasure!

It’s just as well then I have a 360 degree camera on the bike that never sleeps!!!

Here’s Susan relaxing.

Here’s Susan with her personal man servant.

By the time I got Susan dressed again I was done.

As you can see I’m still wearing BOom BOom and everything else. I was so exhausted I had to sit. I felt this situation was getting away from us.

There we were sitting amongst the leaves and the snakes and the 40c. She’s done. I’m done saving her from being completely done.

So what’s next? Well the only thing you can do is keep on going.

So I get up and on the fifth attempt I got Susan on the bike minus jacket and BOom BOom and the rest.

My focus and concentration come back once I’m on the bike. It’s probably the thought of a beer at the end of the day that kicks in and pushes me on.

A few miles later we reach Leon, straight into the market square and chaos. People, kids, donkeys, market stalls, scooters, trucks all over the place. Chaos.

I get Susan off and walking. I just can’t afford to risk dropping her off the bike. Not today.

I ride through chaos and multiple near misses. At least if the bike goes down it’s only me.

We clear the market square and Susan gets back on the bike and we complete the last half mile to the hotel. I half abandon the bike on the road and get Susan into reception.

When I get into reception I could see the concern the staff have when they’re looking at Susan. They’ve given her a glass of water. They don’t realise that when you give Susan water in these situations you almost shout at her to drink it.

She sips. ‘thats enough’. I shout. She drinks a bit more. I don’t shout loudly but I’m quite clear – ‘drink the bl**dy water!’

Oh, I get many a glower every single day! But there’s an understanding – she knows I’m right!

I bring in the first pannier. Each one is heavy unit. Today I’m struggling. I’ve got tightness across my chest. I think it stems from my bruised ribs when I fell off and impersonated ‘humpty dumpty’. It might be a heart attack. Well, I am a bit of a drama queen and it’s about time it was all about me again.

After five minutes I go back out to the street and get the next pannier. I then sit and rest until the tightness recedes. I go and get the third pannier. I sit and rest until the tightness recedes.

We check in.

Susan’s looking a bit better and she takes the key and the helmets to the room. ‘Come back and get the jackets, I will get the rest’.

I wait with the receptionist. I wait some more.

Susan doesn’t come back.

After 15 minutes waiting I smile and say to the receptionist ‘I don’t think she’s coming back to help?’. ‘No sir, I really don’t think so’.

It’s okay, it’s okay, she was fine. Susan just decided it was much nicer to lie on a bed than help me.

That’s fair.

One at a time I get the panniers to the upstairs room. It had to be upstairs. The maid helped me. I needed help from a maid. That’s when you know things are tough! The maid couldn’t actually lift the pannier and so she just dragged it along the tiled floor.

When I eventually get to the room with the luggage, Susan’s having a nice sleep. It amazes me how she can relax when she’s worried about how I’m coping.

I have a cold shower and get dressed. Remember the bike is half abandoned on the road outside.

The hotel has an adjacent garage and, as usual in this part of the world, negotiating the entrance on a large bike isn’t easy. There’s a narrow door, a very tight left turn and a five inch kerb. You need precision and speed. These are skills that I’m struggling to bring to bear at this time of this day.

I’m manoeuvring into a position where I can give it laldy when a guy on a small motorbike with girl pillion speeds up the road, doesn’t slow and impatiently sounds his horn. They all kind of do that bullying driving and riding in Nicaragua. It’s their way.

I lit up Leon with my ‘colourful’ shouting. The rider got such a fright he nearly lost control. Sorry impatient motorcyclist but you just picked on the wrong guy at absolutely the wrong time.

So is that the end of Nightmare in Nicaragua?

Well yes it is, I’m not going to go for 6 to beat Rocky.

After a wee sleep, Susan was feeling better. She refused a cold shower that would do her the world of good and I didn’t have the energy to moan.

We walked into town and sat at the rooftop bar. Is there a better way to end a story than a photo of a bottle of beer?

Of course there isn’t!

Nightmare In Nicaragua 4

Now Susan calls me Contingency Clif because I’ve always got back up plans. She actually calls me a lot more than that but that’s not relevant to this blog.

So when Josias and I stepped off the bike and I said ‘esta jodido’ I already had back up plans. It certainly wasn’t going back to granny! One of these options was to get back to Panama, come home and start again in 2026. Yes, Susan had agreed to that if necessary.

However, Josias stepped up, used my spanner and released some fluid from the clutch. We both tested the bike and it appeared fine. Hallefuckinglujah!

We parted ways. Josias said he found me ‘frightening’ and I was surprised – he didn’t actually see that side of me. I told him he was a nightmare to deal with. He told me he really liked me. I told him he was a nice guy but a nightmare. Oh, we had a pleasant goodbye.

As a footnote to this relationship, Josias has since said he would like to visit me in Scotland and ride motorcycles. He was serious. So if any of you have vehicle repairs needing attended please let me know and we can sponsor him and granny.

Photo time to break up the narrative. The bike is ready to leave. I’m starving (no breakfast), sweating and a bit of an emotional wreck after the last few hours. Please don’t zoom in on Susan as she’s got some maple syrup on her chin from her lovely pancake breakfast. How the privileged live!

Off we go to Leon. Bike repaired. It’s only a two hour ride as well. Sweet!

‘Oh, come on Clif’ I hear you moaning! ‘You’ve strung us along with this Nighmare 1,2 and 3 and suddenly it’s all going swimmingly’. ‘You’re a fraud’. You’re just like the Rocky movies. You’re milking it when you actually have nothing more to say!

Well, it was going swimmingly until I felt uncomfortable with the clutch. It just wasn’t right. I was tender with it as tender as I could be. The old clutch massager was back in action.

Oh, I know you’re tired of clutch this, clutch that!

I appreciate that and let me tell you that Nighmare 4 isn’t really about the clutch. The clutch only has a bit part role in this sequel.

Oh, you’re listening now aren’t you?

Well let me explain. It’s 40c. It’s hotter than a pizza oven.

You know what’s coming don’t you?

Who doesn’t like pizza oven temperatures? Well, we all know Pancake Susan doesn’t!!

There I am massaging the clutch when I hear in the intercom ‘if you see a garage can we stop’. ‘Yes, but there’s no garages about here’ I reply.

We’re in the Nicaraguan countryside and it’s pizza oven hot with no shade. Let me assure you, this isn’t North Berwick on a nice sunny day! This was Nicaragua, in the middle of nowhere, jungle all around, hostile and did I mention it was pizza oven hot?

It was at this moment, Susan decided to make it all about her.

So you remember the earlier story when Susan got so hot she could only see white light?

‘Oh, yes Clif we’ve heard that story before – don’t tell me she’s at it again?’

Well, we had none of that white light nonsense this time. She bypassed all that!

For at 55mph on the Nicaraguan highway she fainted!

No melodrama. No swooning. No moaning about the heat.

Just ‘thump’.

That’s the ‘thump’ from her head hitting me on the back.

‘Thump’ that’s her head hitting me for a second time further down my back.

She’s coming off.

At 55mph on the Nicaraguan highway.

Welcome to Nightmare 5.

Nightmare In Nicaragua 3

Next morning I waited for a text from Josias – I needed reassurance granny wasn’t off with my bike.

Susan and I discussed and made a plan. We decided if I didn’t hear by lunchtime I would text him. At 10am I broke and sent him a message – ‘Hola Josias, como esta mi moto’.

Yup, our plan was ‘oot the windae’. It failed on first contact with my nerves.

Uppermost in my mind was you lot – oh yes, I could already hear you laughing at me being robbed by Jesus and his granny.

I had pinned the location of granny on Google Maps. Yeah, yeah, I’m not so daft. Well, maybe I am but at least I knew where granny lived – I had a big red heart (favourite) on my Managua Google map labelled ‘Granny’.

Thankfully, Josias soon replied and I didn’t have to follow that red heart to granny. What a relief!!

Josias explained the clutch was finished and he sent a photo of the bike. Thank goodness granny doesn’t have carpet.

And here’s the burnt out clutch plates or ‘discos’ as we call them in this part of the world.

We needed a new set of ‘discos’. Big problem – nowhere in Central America has these ‘discos’. Nowhere. We were in a disco desert.

Two days later, we sourced discos in Connecticut, USA, and arranged for them to be shipped via Miami. It would take a week. That’s the best we could do.

The Nicaraguan shipping agent was a nice guy and very helpful. He had a warehouse and he shipped things. He bought the discos from USA and then sold them to me on arrival for cash. It was a reasonable deal.

Before I go any further, I should add some context because I know a few intelligent people read these stories and will be shouting ‘didyounotthinkabout….. etc etc.’ That’s how intelligent people think – they call it joined up thinking.

I tried BMW garages in Guatemala, El Salvador and Costa Rica. They all replied it would be a month to source the ‘discos’ and if they’re saying a month then that’s best case scenario.

Going back to Costa Rica would have meant our visa for Honduras would expire and that’s us finished if we can’t pass through Honduras. Transporting a broken bike across borders with no guarantee it would get fixed would be another problem altogether.

So now we waited.

We were in a nice hostel with nice friendly people. I mean very friendly people. It was a hostel and so like South American hostels there were a lot of young ‘backpackers’. We were all very cool.

Unfortunately, although our room was comfortable, it looks like a jail cell.

Fortunately, it had a nice area outside where hostel cool people can chill, talk about ‘discos’ and do their ‘yard time’.

Unfortunately, there’s not much to do in Managua. It’s safe enough if you take a pragmatic view as to what you should do and where and when you should go. Its not a pretty place. It’s not a place for tourists.

Fortunately, there is a shopping mall down the road from our hostel.

Unfortunately, it’s a twenty minute hot, humid walk.

We walked to the mall twice a day for exercise, coffee and food.

That was about it.

We lived a simple, extraordinarily boring life waiting for the discos.

One day we walked to the market.

Another rubbish market in another rubbish city. They’re all over the world and only Tic Toc people and Instagrammers find them fascinating. I’d like to put these markets into some context though – they’re still better than Benidorm!

On the way to the market we passed through a neighbourhood we shouldn’t be in. I saw a teaspoon of white powder being passed through a grill in a door. Yup, it could have been sugar for his tea. Just didn’t get the feeling it was.

So we got a taxi back.

Eventually, after being in Managua for 8 days the ‘discos’ arrived and we went with Josias to collect. Oh, I know – you want a photo and so here it is. Discos 👇

Josias took the discos and went back to granny. That was Friday lunchtime and I was hoping we might get the bike on Friday evening. Josias said we would. Excellent.

We celebrated in my favourite restaurant – beer and wings! Nice! It only has one downside – I have to sit and watch Susan’s face as she has disdainfully eats the food. She puts up with it because her life is all about putting up with me. Life can’t always be about hummus, pitta bread and veggies – sometimes life is beer and battered wings. As Oasis once said ‘you’ve gotta roll with it’.

Late in the day, I received a text from Josias – did I have the technical manual for my bike that showed the position of the ‘discos’ within the clutch?

Oh, my legs crumbled and I whimpered.

After a week waiting for the ‘discos’ he was now asking me for the technical installation details.

Be calm, Clif. Be calm! Granny has your bike hostage. Be calm!

Thirty minutes later I sent him 6 photos from the appropriate technical manual downloaded from the internet.

I crumble, I whimper, I rise. Honestly, somtimes I’m immense! I’m sorry I’ve got to say that but if I don’t say that it goes unspoken. And we wouldn’t want my immenseness to go unrecognised would we? Would we?

Now, Josias is a lovely guy but he just can’t deliver. Oh yes, I know we’ve all worked with these type. As a manager would say ‘he’s not task orientated’. Of course, the other side of that Myers Briggs coin is empathy. Well I can tell you Josias was not empathetic either because he was driving me fu**ing mad!

Friday went. Saturday came and went. Sunday came.

Promise me this. I promise you that. Guarantee this, guarantee that. On and on, text after text. I just think he never sat down and worked for any length of time on the issue.

All our conversation was in Spanish. Hundreds of texts. Believe me if you’re not delivering I’m on your case. Oh, I was persistent.

By Sunday afternoon I was a bit of an expert on my motorbike clutch. I studied the manual and I watched countless videos. I honestly think I could have done the job myself.

Josias had difficulty working in the evening because granny’s leccy had been cut off so he worked by torchlight. Not that I think a lot of work was getting done.

Things were getting tense on Sunday evening. I wanted the bike that day. I was promised the bike that day.

It was about the fifth broken deadline and I went to sleep that night at midnight after failing to get Josias to deliver.

We agreed I would get the bike in the morning and Susan and I would travel onwards that day.

Josias said I was definitely getting the bike in the morning and I could pick it up at 4am if I wanted. You’ve got to laugh!

Next morning at 6am I’m on his case.

By 8am I was in a taxi to granny’s whilst Susan tucked into her nice breakfast of pancakes, syrup and fresh fruit. I know you always like to know what Susan is doing and we don’t want the blog to be all about me, me, me.

So Susan is having pancakes and I’m in a taxi to I don’t know what.

When I get to granny’s, Josias is still finishing up working on the bike. Why couldn’t this have been done before I arrived? No reason – that’s just how he is.

I didn’t take the cash to Josias to pay him. I’m not travelling to backstreet Managua with cash. I tell him he has to come to our hostel and Susan will pay. Susan looks after our dosh.

Josias jumps on the back of the bike and I test ride it to the hostel. When we get there I’m sunk. I’m finished.

The clutch is slipping!

Nightmare in Nicaragua 4 is unfolding.

And it’s perhaps the scariest yet!

Nightmare In Nicaragua 2

Once I connected with Josias we returned to the bike.

Thankfully, Susan says she was just fine and had reached ‘Amazing’ level on her NY Times Spelling Bee puzzle. She said the puzzle had relaxed her and she wasn’t even that hungry yet. Excellent.

Back outside in the 35c heat and humidity, Josias, Mr Google Translate and I talked over the issues with the bike.

‘esta hecho polvo’ he said – ‘its knackered’. Well, he didn’t exactly say that but I’m trying to give you some linguistical flavour in this story.

We agreed to take the bike to his ‘workshop’. Before we did that I reminded Josias of my priority – first, we had to get Susan to the hostel.

Thankfully I had chosen well – it was a largely flat route and we made it in a few minutes. We checked in and I left Susan sitting on a nice settee with a fan for cooling. I unloaded the panniers by myself and headed off for the second time today. Susan took it in her stride and appeared completly at ease. What a trooper!

I follow Josias, who is riding his small motorbike through the city. I can’t keep up. The clutch had well and truly gone.

We take the bike back to where I first met Josias and parked the bike in his workshop. To be honest, it was actually his grandmother’s living room.

As I’ve said before my heart wasn’t sinking because it had reached rock bottom. It had nowhere to sink.

I gave Josias my keys and he took me back to the hostel. I climbed onto the back of his small motorcycle. It’s tiny and I’m still in my big boots and trousers. I look like a gorilla sitting on a coconut.

I let Josias know I wasn’t experienced being on the back – only once in South America for a short journey.

Josias laughed, shrugged and pulled a quick u turn to get us on our way. He got a fright when two hands gripped him.

After a few minutes through the traffic I began to relax and dropped my hands and started balanced myself by squeezing him with my thighs. Suffice to say that’s the last time Josias offered to take me on his bike.

I took a photo of Josias testing my bike outside his grandmother’s living room garage.

And here’s the living room garage premises. It’s not the one with the white doors – it’s the one behind the bike.

At the end of this road there was a wooden police box where the police keep a permanent 24 hour presence. One police officer in a one person ‘lookout’. I would have taken a photo to show you but I thought better of it – the Nicaraguan police don’t have a good reputation.

As you can appreciate this neighborhood profile was not very reassuring for a guy without a clutch!

Once back at the hostel I was pleased to see Susan had made it through the afternoon. Such resilience.

I was fretting a bit. I was still fretting after a few beers in the evening and if I’m still fretting when I’m drinking beer then you know there’s a serious bit of fretting going on.

I was just too well aware I had just given my bike and its only electronic key to a guy in a Managuan backstreet.

I had taken photos. I’m not so daft – I was once a policeman in an alternative world.

I aslo had his phone number and we agreed he would WhatsApp me in the morning once he had looked at the clutch.

Would he really?

Jeez, how would I explain this to everyone? – you did what? you gave him what? you didn’t even know him?, he didn’t have a garage, just a grandmother’s living room? In bloody Nicaragua?

Yes I did. I bloody well did!

It’s actually not as bad as that. It’s a little bit badder.

Before Josias left me in the afternoon he asked if I could give him $20 for tools. I actually gave him $40 and the few tools I carry. Loaded up, he motorcycles off into the sunset.

I didn’t sleep well that night for dreaming of a granny riding about town on my bike. A kind of witch and broomstick theme, Wizard of Oz thing.

So that’s Nightmare in Nicaragua 2 – can it get any worse than a granny riding your bike?

Of course it can!

Please let me welcome you to Nightmare in Nicaragua 3.

Nightmare In Nicaragua

So there I am sitting on the bike on a fast carraigeway dealing with my emotions. That sinking feeling when I realised the bike was finished going forward. The despair knowing I wouldn’t find a garage in Managua that could undertake the repair. The hopelessness of not knowing what to do next.

Well, I soon snapped out of that! It was obvious what I had to do next – I had to get off this bloody road before someone rammed me up the backside!

I recalled we had passed a gas station at the roundabout. The only way to get there was reverse. For non motorbike people I will highlight that the bike doesn’t have a reverse gear. Nevertheless, gravity was on my side. Still, it’s not the best manoeuvre to reverse down a three lane ‘dual carraigeway’. You know what I mean – I’m sure there’s a technical term for it.

So with Susan as my back marker waving at motorists to stay out the inside lane, I slowly rolled back.

There’s Susan walking behind. As you can see the camera caught her not waving. I suspect she’s busy thinking about how much of my pension she gets if I don’t make it!

Time and time again someone would come right up behind me. Driving behaviour in this part of the world is abysmal. There was a lot of shouting, mainly from a guy in a nice helmet.

Slowly, so slowly, I reversed into the gas station car park, picked my spot and parked the bike. I was physically and emotionally drained.

I had to get a grip – it was now a matter of priorities!

Yes, you’ve guessed it – the bottom has just fallen out of our travelling world and the first priority is to get Susan out of this bloody heat!

So into the air conditioned cafe we go. I get Susan out of her hat, jacket and BOom BBOom vest, sit her at a table and buy a large bottle of cold water.

Right that’s the priorities sorted – so let’s see about the bike.

Now, let’s rewind 3 hours to my cock a doodle do, rice and beans breakfast.

In between the cocks and the doodles, I managed to recount our bike issues to out lovely host. She recommended a friend, a motorcycle mechanic in Managua who used to work for Triumph.

I politely listened and said everything would be fine and when she showed me a 3 year out of date Facebook profile I took a photo to be nice.

Standing in the cafe, as I contemplated what to do, I received a phone message from this lady – ‘may our Creator be with you and guide you safely to your destination’

I then remembered that Facebook entry, I remembered his name – ‘Josias’.

Now sit down when I tell you this next bit. Do you know the name ‘Josias’ is of Hebrew origin and means ‘God supports and heals, God helps’!

Wow! Here I was standing in an air conditioned cafe having a bit of a biblical moment.

It was a sign and so I tried phoning the number on Josias’ three year old Facebook entry but something was wrong. Wrong code, wrong something.

I needed a local who could help. A wise man. Well there were about 30 people in that air conditioned garage cafe and not one of them could help. Nobody could speak English and as I didn’t want a beer at this time, my useful Spanish phrases were exhausted.

So I brought out my old friend Mr Google Translate and suddenly I was like Captain Kirk who could talk to the Klingons.

One young lad showed an incling of helpfulness and I pounced on this. With his help, we phoned Josias again with a change of local code. No luck, the number appeared cut off.

Three year old Facebook. Cut off phone number. What’s next?

Well Josias had a three year old address on Facebook. I checked it on Google Maps. There’s no listing for a garage. No listing for anything.

Give up?

Of course I didn’t. I’ve got the ‘Creator’ leading me to Josias. I know I have. Nobody said the path to salvation was easy. I’ve got to find my way and not give up.

Next step? Oh yes, a quick check on my priority lets me know all is well. Susan is fine and working out the latest conundrum on her phone puzzle game. She’s looking relaxed and cool.

I spoke to the young lad and asked about getting a taxi. I showed him the addesss and he said he would take me. It wasn’t an area of town for a an old gringo to venture into alone. Just as well as I didn’t even have any local currency for a taxi. Someone’s looking out for me!

Within 5 minutes we were in his small, beat up car with no air con. I was still in half motorcycle gear, roasting and toasting.

Another 10 minutes we were sitting outside an optician waiting on his wife and mother in law. Apparently we had a pick up first.

Another 20 minutes and we’re still waiting outside the optician.

I texted Susan an update in case she was worried. She wasn’t. Somehow, just somehow, she manages to remain cool and collected in these stressful situations.

Meanwhile, back in the car like an oven, I multitask and search for accomodation in this city. I knew we were going nowhere at least for a few days.

I found a hostel with parking (not an easy thing to do) within 0.5 miles of where the broken bike was. I reasoned I could push it there if necessary.

So I booked two nights and texted Susan so she knew we had a plan for the night. She appreciated the reassurance. I just hope my message didn’t interrupt a crucial part of her puzzle on her phone.

Eventually, wife and mother in law appeared and we set off for my non existent garage. Mr Google Translate was our friend as we journeyed through the Managua backstreets.

We pulled into a small broken down road with broken down houses and nothing much else. We parked. The young lad looked at me. This was it. There was nothing here. I was nearly broken in broken down road.

But my heart can’t sink because it can’t sink any lower. Still, I could feel the energy flow out my body.

The young lad is about to turn the car around and head back. He’s given up. Is that it do we just give up?

Of course we bloody don’t! I’m on the road to salvation!

I’m about to get out the car and have a wander around when I see two guys sitting on small plastic stools outside a house a hundred metres down the road.

I stare at them. I recognise that guy. I pull out the three year old Facebook photo. It looks like him. I show it to the young lad. He shrugs. He’s unconvinced.

I get out the car and walk up to them.

‘Josias?’ I ask

‘Si’ he replies.

Hallelujah!

The Master Massager

During our stay in Granada I arranged an appointment with the BMW garage in Guatemala to look at the clutch.

There’s very few garages in this part of the world who can fix large motorbikes – they don’t have the training and they certainly don’t have the parts. They’re used to riding and repairing small bikes with generic, swappable parts.

Our most likely success would be in Guatemala City and that was another 450 miles along the main highway.

We were awake early at 4am on the day of our departure from Granada. In this biodiverse hotel we had two cockerels living outside our room. Oh, these guys could cock a doodle doo like it was a cock a doodle doo world championship!

After a breakfast of eggs, rice and beans, we headed for Leon, a nice easy 83 miles along the main highway. Or so we thought.

I was treating the bike nice and the bike was being nice to us. That’s how relationships work. Don’t they?

‘Not always!’ I hear you shout back! Yeah, I agree and in this relationship no matter how well I treated the bike it had made its mind up it was going to have a bit of a huff. That’s how relationships work. Don’t they?

We were rolling along nicely when we hit the outer main roads of Managua, capital city of Nicaragua. It was traffic bedlam.

We’re used to traffic chaos in this part of the world. Hell, we even survived La Paz. But this time it’s a little bit special. After each stop I have to massage the clutch to get the bike moving. My hands were tender and skilfull. Honestly, I was like master baker Paul Holywood making the softest, fluffiest white bread in the world.

We kept moving. Slowly through the traffic. The clutch and I began to overheat. I breathed slowly, the sweat dripped and I massaged.

We reached a large roundabout and the road ahead looked relatively clear. A wide roadway leading over a bit of an incline. Looked like heaven. I smiled. We had made it. I had massaged that clutch through traffic hell. I was the clutch massager. What a guy I am!

I sighed in relief as we negotiated the roundabout and headed up the hill. Take it nice and easy. Nice and easy does it, master massager.

Then the bike slowed. It revved. It wouldn’t pull up the hill.

I massaged, I shifted down to first gear but the bike continued to slow.

It had had enough.

It stopped.

The clutch massager stopped.

Stopped in the inside lane on a fast road, I checked the mirrors for vehicles racing up behind.

‘It’s finished’ I said to Susan.

‘Get off, it’s clear’.

Susan jumped off.

‘This bike is going nowhere!’

Nightmare in Nicaragua had begun.

Beer & Biodiversity

We reached La Fortuna, a bit bruised, a bit battered and a bit shaken.

The bike had a few more character scratches and a wing mirror stem was partially broken. I tried to fix it but I was a little too rough and it snapped. It was a just one of those days so we went for a walk, a pizza and a beer.

It’s a nice town but you wouldn’t send a postcard home about it.

It does have a nice volcano. The Arenal volcano was thought to be extinct until 1968 when it unexpectedly erupted, continuing until 2010. This event changed the geography of the entire region, making it one of the most visited destinations in Costa Rica.

Thankfully, we found BeerLand and all our troubles seemed so far away.

For the next few days we rested and did jungle things. Keeping Susan happy makes me happy. Here’s Susan happy and cool walking along hanging bridges in the jungle canopy. It’s a bonanza of biodiversity.

Back at our hotel, I tried to repair the broken wing mirror but it was beyond help so we bought a replacement at a local garage. I don’t think anyone will notice.

I also replaced the gas cannister in Susan’s safety vest and, hopefully, she won’t waste this one. I’ve still got a spare but that’s mine. Susan is on her last cannister until we get to Dallas where I’ve ordered her another. It’s like the helmet – she doesn’t deserve a new one until she learns to look after the one she’s already got. Okay, okay sit down! I’m only kidding. She’s the priority.

After La Fortuna, we travelled to Monteverde and did some more jungle activities. Nature and biodiversity make me so happy.

We went to a Sloth sanctuary. I could hardly contain myself with the excitement.

The guide explained that the sloth is the slowest mammal in the world. It’s a close call between the sloth and the koala.

When I heard this I immediately raised my hand and put the guide right – I’ve got friends who move much slower than that! Oh, the assembled party had a good laugh. What a great time we were having in a biodiverse world.

Okay, that’s all the biodiverse fun I’m going to tell you about. Back to the journey. Back to reality.

So it’s time to leave the mountains and leave Costa Rica.

Leaving Monteverde was a rollercoaster road but largely downhill. The clutch wasn’t happy and everything was overheating and slipping. It was a little bit fraught. Actually, it was a big bit fraught. You wouldn’t believe how fraught we were.

Out of the mountains, we stopped at a gas station at the junction with the Panamanian Highway and let the bike rest and cool.

What do we do?

Do we go back 70 miles to San Jose where there is a BMW garage or do we push on?

It was a huge dilemma. I knew the sensible option. I knew the riskier option. I knew the ins and outs, the upsides and the downsides, the good and bad, the pros and cons.

Yes of course, we pushed on.

We were now on the Pan American highway where inclines are more gradual and I kept it smooth, we rolled on and reached Liberia. The following day we crossed the border into Nicaragua.

It was the worst border crossing we have encountered so far in South and Central America. Three hours of awful checks, queues and bureaucracy.

Susan suffered in the heat of the immigration queue but I found her a nice chair, gave her water and a cool place to relax and eat a few snacks. She always carries a few emergency snacks and her current favourite is Ritz crackers. Meanwhile, I struggled through the heat, the bureaucracy, the idleness of officials and completed the police and customs processing.

Once we got our temporary import permit for the bike we headed for Granada. Seemingly it’s one of the highlights of Nicaragua with a genuine colonial feel.

We reached our nice hotel early afternoon and parked the bike.

Now, I really don’t know why other hotels don’t offer this convenience. There’s the bike safely parked, under cover. You can see Susan checking in at reception and the tables on the right are for breakfast. What a sweet arrangement.

Our room was rustic but that’s what you get in this biodiverse part of the world.

We were at one with nature. I can tell you it’s fulfilling to be living a biodiverse life in this frenetic, wasteful world. You should try and be like me. It makes you so happy.

After a quick cold shower (us biodiverse people don’t waste energy on heating water) we went into town to explore the colonial setting.

Now I would like to tell you about a colonial biodiverse paradise and make you envious of the life I was living. But I can’t. It was a dump!

Yes, there was the odd okay bit

But largely it was a dump.

Thankfully we found a nice restaurant and had some nice food and okay beer.

Welcome to Nicaragua.