Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

Not surprisingly, I slept like a baby (see earlier post for an explanation...), finally waking at 6am having fallen asleep around 9pm, after a late-night chat with some local men who were hanging round my bike when I returned to the hotel (the usual questions, including “quanto costa” - “how much?”). Showered and wrote up the blog, which unsurprisingly took a while, then loaded the bike and rode round town to the plaza, where I knew the others would appear later in the morning, then found a little cafe to eat breakfast (refried beans and scrambled eggs). After speaking to Elisa on the phone to let her know my bike was fixed and to try and sort out a last-chance trip to the school (which unfortunately wasn't possible as the trip would take 2hrs and I needed to be in the plaza from 11am), I went and attended to some chores, photocopying my passport and driving licence to replace the copies used at the border, and using an Internet cafe to upload the blog. Then it was time to simply sit in the plaza and watch the world go by until the group arrived...

Only it seemed the world wanted to watch me, instead... First a policeman (Gonzales) appeared, and stood by me for a few minutes before speaking. My first reaction was one of guilt (why is it that, even though we're innocent, a policeman just standing by us makes us feel guilty?), thinking he didn't like the way I'd parked (underneath a no-parking sign...). But no, he wanted to chat about my bike, and so we did, in my pidgeon Spanish, me explaining about the trip, and the group arriving later that morning (he was incredulous at the ride from Copan taking only 4 hours!), and the size of the engine, the maximum speed, and of course, the cost (I'd settled on $7,000 for now). Soon we were joined by 2 other guys, who chatted and asked the same questions, then one who spoke some English and was with his daughter asked how many countries and how long I'd be travelling for. The other laughed, pointed at my motorcycle and proclaimed it “El Monstro” (a monster) – so now my bike has finally been christened after 35,000 miles...

When the other guys had gone, Gonzales remained and we sat on the wall, speaking occasionally and watching the world go by. And stop, to take photos of my bike. First a young couple appeared and took each other's photos standing by the bike, so I put it on the centre stand and invited them to sit on the saddle, the guy jumping at the chance and grinning like mad, the girl more reluctant but then jumping on and smiling sweetly at her beau. Then a guy appeared on a small motorcycle with his small child sat on the front and stopped to take a picture on his phone...





Finally Gonzales wandered off to do whatever policeman in La Esperanza do (mostly people-watch from what I could see) and I sat alone for a while, then the English-speaking chap returned carrying a bottle and gave it to me – a bottle of the local Miel (honey) for my trip. I gratefully accepted, despite not really liking honey, his smile and warm handshake irresistible. Then Telma's husband drove by in his taxi, a big grin and another handshake, another new friend happy to see me happy and my bike working again.

Around 11.15am, the group started to arrive, the commotion in the plaza quite a sight, as more big motorcycles rolled in and lined up next to mine, the guys happy to see me and learn that my bike was working again...




While some of the group went to eat lunch at the restaurant I ate in last night, I headed off behind a few others that were keen to keep moving, with the long ride to Danli still ahead. We weaved our way out of La Esperanza towards La Paz, the road looking vaguely familiar, until, there on the left was the place we'd stayed at 3 years ago – Las Pinos Mountain Resort (the rocks), so I stopped for a quick photo...





Then it was back on the road, a winding, twisting stretch of perfect tarmac enabling me to get quickly into the groove and catch up the lead group, tucking in behind in the staggered formation and rejoining the ballet of group riding. We rode towards Tegucigalpa and as we approached, an aeroplane came into land, skimming just a hundred feet or so over our heads, reminding me of the impressive landing required at the airport in the centre of the city. On the way out of town I needed fuel, so dropped out of the group into a petrol station and asked the attendant to fill it up, then had to stop him at 300 limperas as that's all I had. Then he pointed to my bike and said “gasolina”... it was leaking from the tank and dripping on the hot engine and exhaust...

I think I may have said one or two bad words...

Then I quickly pushed the bike away from the pumps and to the side of the apron, and set about the fastest GS tank removal in history, finally getting the dripping tank off and onto the grass in record time. I'd parked where I thought there was a chance of Jeff seeing me, as the thought that I might not be able to correct the leak, having already had 2 attempts at re-fitting the tank internals as a result of the first attempt being unsuccessful. As I started to strip the tank again, the wonderful sight of the grey Transit pulling into the petrol station caught my eye, and I quickly explained to Jeff what had happened, that as the fuel level in the tank had reached the top of the tank internals, it had started to leak. Together we drained the tank into the bucket kept in the van, and stripped the tank and checked the o-ring seal which was showed some signs of damage from my cack-handed attempt to refit it in the hotel car park. Luckily I had a spare (never take Internet advice that says it's not necessary to replace the o-ring....), so we carefully fitted that and using Jeff's socket set refitted the tank internals, then gingerly filled the tank again to check for leaks. This time it was clear the seal was doing its job, and so I re-fitted the tank and bade Jeff farewell, once again rejoining the traffic and then pushing on towards Danli, the road opening up again and once again becoming a series of linked, swooping bends.

I finally arrived at the hotel just before dark, Kevin coming out to greet me, having phoned Jeff to enquire where I was, and being told the whole saga. Later that evening I gave Jeff the bottle of honey to thank him, but his earlier remark about how I'd hurt his feelings when I said that I'd not needed him on this occasion still ringing in my ears...

That night I treated myself to a couple of beers, despite still taking anti-biotics (a decision I'd regret the following morning when I woke feeling crap), and ate a great breaded chicken, before turning in to try and get some sleep before the border crossing the next day (a task made more difficult by the worst bed and pillows on the official part of the trip – still, better than my night in San Juan at least!)...