where have i been?

Well I’m not really sure where I’ve been. Virtually speaking.  I am now in Bogota and will probably do a write up on the entire shipping process along with a photo update in the next day or so.  I’m going to save my Colombia adventures until I leave the country because I don’t want to jinx them.  So far it has been one amazing experience and tomorrow I’m going four-wheeling with a local club here in Bogota so it can really only get better.   I plan to get to Ecuador Thurs or Friday next week.   For now you’ll just have to deal with SPOT updates and a few posts about document management and shipping. 

 

However, if you want to see where I have been in the virtual world, and see a little bit of the neurosis that afflicts  a large number of my friends you can find your way over to my Rig Of The Week thread on IH8MUD.  That is where the majority of my very little online time has been spent this past week.  It is a very detailed write up of the lovely Ruby Claire.  I highly recommend it.  Why? Well it helps me feel less guilty about not posting more to my blog over the last week and well because it is in my choppy, disjointed prose you’re bound to find it entertaining.  Oh and my friend Travis Jeremy Farnes pointed out after attending  TLCA event in Moab, UT a few years back,  the Land Cruiser world could be easily made into a mockumentary like Waiting for Guffman or Best in Show. We have our own language. There are petty arguments over vehicle preferences and supposed superiority.  There are costal biases and cliquish infighting.  Basically a world few outsiders would ever understand but could spend hours making fun of.  

 

Or you may just find some insight into how, 12k miles away from Utah, in a world completely foreign to my own,  I am welcomed into the home of complete strangers solely based upon ownership of a low volume production Japanese SUV.

 

 

OK Unit Number: 0-7341800

SPOT. my guess is Colombia or maybe on a boat on the way there. not quite sure when i'll use this again.
Unit Number: 0-7341800
Latitude: 10.4059
Longitude: -75.5304
Nearest Town from unit Location: Quinta, Colombia
Distance to the nearest town: 1 km(s)
Time in GMT the message was sent: 01/16/2008 16:54:53

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=10.4059,-75.5304&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

indiana, indiana, let it go...

I was going to make this a very long post that would essentially engage the two major factions of my readers but I decided I’ll write two individual posts and bore/enthrall each group individually. Aren’t’ you excited? Just think, you could be part of the small minority who doesn’t fall into either faction and you can be bored by BOTH posts. Worst of all, however, I should have been writing these posts while idling away in Panama City, instead of doing it here in Cartagena where my grey matter has reached its limit trying to process the deluge of sensory input. Wow, I sure can talk a lot of crap when I want to. Or when my mind is tired. I even think I know what deluge means. Anyway, Cartagena, Colombia is the crown jewel of the Expedition Americas experience thus far. This place is amazing. But you’ll have to wait anxiously until another day so I can organize my thoughts about my time here. The Land Cruiser obsession will weigh heavily on that day as well. That is boring/enthralling post #2. Tonight’s post, however, has been brewing since I entered Canada 14,000 miles or so ago and finally came to a head sitting in the shipping office last week in Colon, Panama. After working in a certain arena for awhile, and coming to find that you actually believe the crap you’re talking about, it can be hard to let things go. Like Indiana Jones stretching for the Holy Grail (which is far more believable than the dan brown, davinci, ron howard, tom hanks version, I mean come on, Harrison Ford and Sean Connery rode off into the sunset!) once you become fixated on a certain subject you find it impossible to let it go. No matter how hard you try, it is still there. And in my case it is document management. YEP, THAT’S RIGHT THE WONDERFUL AND AMAZING WORLD OF DOCUMENT MANAGEMENT.

So now that I’ve lost everyone but my former HP cohorts I’ll continue my diatribe. In case anyone else has made it this far I will give a brief introduction. Prior to leaving on my trip I worked as a trainer/technical consultant in the VAR channel for HP. I spent the majority of my insanely busy work week (inside joke for my former bosses) teaching classes about or helping customers understand their document needs. From digitizing, to archiving, to eliminating the need for, it was what my world consisted of. So how in the hell does that affect my once in a lifetime dream trip? Borders, Immigration, Customs, Aduanas, Migracion, Fronteras, Policia, Militaria etc. etc. ad naseum. As just one example the Guatemala/Honduras Border contained one room, about 20x30 ft, for their paperwork. I assume someone there knew how the room was organized. What I saw was stacks of paper 6 feet high lining two of the walls. Not boxes of papers, not file cabinets, not even those fancy folders CPAs use that can hold 4 reams of paper. I am talking paper stacked, one sheet on top of another, 6 feet high. Some were carbon duplicates some were stapled. Most were just single sheets just waiting to fall over. And guess what? That was one of the quicker more organized crossings I’ve had. Regardless of Ben’s charm and Ginny’s infatuation it was still organized. It also made my skin crawl. Allow me to digress into the world of shipping your truck out of Panama to illustrate my bafflement (I thought I made that word up but MS Word didn’t autocorrect it. Hmmm how about baffleization?) at the complete lack of organization and inefficiency in the process.

When entering Panama by car you have to get your personal visa and a stamp for your vehicle. You also have to sign a document stating you will not sell the vehicle while in Panama (or if that is your plan you need to declare it upon entering.) Then you need to go to customs to get the vehicle inspected and the document stamped and signed. When leaving Panama by car they just cancel the stamp at the border and on you go. However, when you leave the country by plane, sans vehiculo, you need to have a whole series of documents. The process goes a little something like this, hit it.

You find a shipping agent who gives you your shipping manifest. You take that document, along with your passport, title and all the docs you received when coming into the country with you to an unsigned, non-descript blue building where the police will inspect your vehicle to verify the VIN on the body and motor. They’ll take a copy of all the aforementioned docs and give you a permission slip. Then you cross a busy 6 lane road to another blue building, this one with a sign, to visit the Secretaria de Policia (or some title I am forgetting right now)and use the first permission slip to get a second permission slip and then destroy the first permission slip. At this point you’re into the process about 4 hours including time finding the first blue building nestled under the overpass. After getting a badge to enter the compound you go into an office and fill out a document. Then you sit down and wait for this document you just filled out by hand to be typed, yes typed, onto a 3 part form by one of the nice women working in the office. If you’re lucky you’re one of the first people in line. I was 5^th in the stack of papers. Right now you’re all thinking what’s the big deal, you’re 5^th? 2 hours and 15 mins to type up 5 forms. Why? I have no clue. Conversations, mistakes, questions, phone calls, flirting, more phone calls, lunch. The amount of data on each form is less than the first two sentences in this post. I’m not making that up either. VIN, Passport number, import number, shipping manifest. That is IT. Two hours! Then the form goes back into the secret room where someone signs this document that basically states when you get to customs/immigration you can get your passport stamped without having a vehicle because it is being shipped out of the country instead of driven. Then you head off to customs, once you find this building in the mass of other unsigned former US military buildings, the process only takes about 20 mins. If you’re lucky (more on that later) I was lucky. The grandmotherly customs agent smiled the whole time and wished me luck on my trip and almost forgot to cancel the vehicle stamp in my passport. Then back to the shipping agent, show her all the forms, they give you more forms for the port in Colon (2 hours away) and make more copies of your title, passport etc and you finally get home 9 hours after your day started where you go to sleep to wake up at sunrise to drive to the port for 6 more hours of stamps, copies, customs, more stamps and then finally inspection one last time. And I was lucky. I met 3 Brazilians returning home from Boston for a 3 month vacation who were on their 5^TH!!!! day of playing this paper work game. The Feral Green guys (http://www.feralgreen.com) who began this process with me (and assisted me with their stellar language skills) required 2 days for their process. The worst part is I couldn’t let the former work experience go. I think I found 473 ways the process could be improved with a simple 3 hours conversation with them. Watching a girl slip a piece of well used carbon paper between two identical forms was truly painful. If I would have known enough Spanish to handle the delicate “do you want me to type those forms up for you so we can get out of here in 6 mins instead of a 135mins’ conversation this post would never happen. At this point I have to say without Evelyn and Roberto at the Barwil shipping agency I would still be wandering around Panama City with a stack of papers in my hand and a sign that read ‘will work for an epiphany of how the hell to get my paperwork done so I can leave Panama.’ That would be one huge piece of cardboard though. I’d have to condense the language just a bit.

I am aware of the cultural differences and the lack of urgency in the Latin world. I’m not asking for Toyota-like efficiency or a completely digitized process. I just think they could save a few trees and a few hundred thousand MGs of ibuprofen if they would just streamline their process. Or put a damn copy machine at the border and not make me wander into bordertown, and risk life and limb in the freezone, to get two copies made of my passport. Hold on there kids. I know what you’re thinking. “dave, you’re an idiot. Just go make copies of your passport now instead of watching the Australian Open on ESPN.’ Well I have dozens of copies of my passport. However, each border requires a copy of the page with their stamp. I’m not making that up. That is really the process. You go into customs and give them copies of your title and registration. They stamp your passport. Then you have to go find a copy machine to make a copy of the stamp to give back to them. You would think the gov’t would want to make money on the copies. They charge 10cents a piece after all for a 1 cent copy. But no, aside from the Ferry terminal in Baja I have had to make copies at some roadside shack at every crossing I’ve been to. It truly is ridiculous. Ridiculous according to my hp indoctrinated document management mindset. I need Sean Connery to take me by the hand (as I dangle over the smoke filled bottomless pit) and speak to me with his wise, prudent, omniscient and reassuring voice, ‘hey dumbass, let it go. you’re on the trip of a lifetime. Don’t worry about it.’ Or something to that effect.

dmc

And yes Mr. Carmack this post was pretty much entirely for your entertainment. I hope you use this story during your next Selling HP Solutions course.

It finally happened

I have officially lost my mind. I am sitting on some tiny airstrip aboard adual prop plane on my way to Colombia. It is pitch black outside and I sincerely doubt my backpack will arrive unmolested in Cartagena. And yet I feel totally safe and comfortable with the situation. Yep I have lost my mind.

OK Unit Number: 0-7341800

SPOT. my guess is Colombia or maybe on a boat on the way there. not quite sure when i'll use this again.
Unit Number: 0-7341800
Latitude: 9.3669
Longitude: -79.8787
Nearest Town from unit Location: Unknown
Distance to the nearest town: Unknown
Time in GMT the message was sent: 01/10/2008 16:36:34

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=9.3669,-79.8787&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

two months?

Nope it’s not possible. I realize the Romans threw together a structure, loosely based upon the rotation of the earth and its accompanying orbit around the sun. I guess since I live in the western world I’m obliged to accept that reality. But there is no way my mind and heart can accept the fact that I have been on the road for ONLY two months. It feels like a lifetime has gone by since then. Maybe even two lifetimes. I’ll have to check with Shirley McClaine and ask her how it feels to live two lifetimes. I’d like to say I’m spending this day on some remote beach, working on the tan, and reflecting upon my good fortune. If you want to pretend that I am go for it. I could use the positive energy. The truth is I’m sick as a dog with a head full of mucous and a body full of aches. I’ve been lying in bed at the amazing and wonderful Hotel Montreal in Panama City, Panama. Okay amazing and wonderful might be just a tad bit complimentary. How about ‘the safe and passibly clean Hotel Montreal.’ Yep that feels a bit more accurate. But it is safe and it is clean and it has been my home for 5 days now. The first 3 I spent with my fellow overlanders Erin, Kevin (whom ben and I met at the Belize/Guat border and I have kept in touch with along the way) Mike, Kori and Hartt. 3 different groups, all from Canada, riding to Ushuaia. We were sharing in the frustration of trying to get to Colombia. Those 5 arrived in Colombia over the weekend and I have spent the last two days sick in bed. Fortunately there is a grand total of 3 English tv channels on the TV here. So after watching a 5 episode marathon of the teenybopper melodrama One Tree Hill I was able to catch back to back episodes of Little People, Big World and finally I am watching some good ole’ NFL football with Spanish speaking commentators. Oh and I managed to squeeze in a 4 hour nap.

I feel like I should digress into a bit of a geography lesson to explain the dilemma the six of us wrestled with earlier this week. A quick glance at the map (or for some you may recall your hours spent staring at a Risk game board) reveals the Western Hemisphere to contain one continuous land mass. As we all know the only thing preventing this reality is the Panama Canal. However I’ve learn that not everyone is aware that it isn’t possible (it may be possible but is essentially a death wish) to drive the length of this landmass. My pounding head and snot filled nose are killing my enthusiasm to type so go ahead and read this real quick. Thus each of the 6 of us who found ourselves at the Hotel Montreal were fighting through the morass of logistics necessary to get around the gap. Riding motorcycles they had multiple options including sailboats, airplanes and cargo ships. All of which included many hours of legwork. My option is one. Cargo ship. After dozens of emails sent (and exactly zero replies) and hours of online research I finally found a name. So with that name I placed a phone call and on weds this week my truck goes into a shipping container and onto a ship bound for Cartagena, Colombia. I anticipated doing some exploring and sightseeing here in Panama but except for spending New Years Eve on the summit of the highest point in Panama (11,410feet), where I managed to run into four kids from my former home of Juneau, AK, my time here has been spent either in bed or in front of a computer screen trying to get out of here. Tomorrow I get to prep my truck for shipping and some more sleep and then South America awaits.

OK Unit Number: 0-7341800

SPOT. in costa rica. will be here for awhile.
Unit Number: 0-7341800
Latitude: 8.8067
Longitude: -82.537
Nearest Town from unit Location: Aguacate, Panama
Distance to the nearest town: 5 km(s)
Time in GMT the message was sent: 01/01/2008 02:30:55

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=8.8067,-82.537&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

when is high tide?

The place: 12 miles north of Playa Manzanillo

The time: 12:53 AM

The tide: Rising

Proximity to my truck: 15 feet.

My heart rate: over 200

I scramble for my laptop and fire it up. It blinds my tired and irritated eyes. I can barely look into the dark when rudely awoken from a dream let alone at an insanely bright 17 inch display. I squint through swollen lids and encrusted eye boogers at the spreadsheet I made for Costa Rican tides. High tide 1:28 am.

“okay 30 mins or 15 feet, which will happen first? If the tide does actually get high enough to bring water to my car it will be brief and I can dig myself out in the morning no problem. I hope.”

I stare anxiously out of my tent for the next 45 mins as my camp remains high and dry. I fall asleep after the adrenaline wears off and wake to the sunrise and low tide 125 yards away. Not really sure why a kid from the desert was smart enough to download a tidal chart but I am glad I did. I’m also glad I trusted my own instincts in setting up my camp. I asked a local a mile or so down the beach from me if I would be okay camping on the beach or if I needed to be up in the trees. Had I listened to him there would be no round of golf, there would be no Dot. There would just be a very sad me stuck in Nicoya staring at his buried truck.

So the Nicoya Peninsula is officially my favorite region of Costa Rica. For the first time since leaving Baja did I get to fully use my vehicle. 5 river crossings (one about 30 inches deep 200 yards long) 10+ miles of beach driving, more dirt than paved roads. It was dryer and flatter than the rest of the country. The only food available could be found in the ARB fridge in back of my truck. 3 nights on the beach, another tire rotation, long boring days of hitting golf balls, taking a nap, wandering around the beach, throwing rocks. A good time was had by all. And by ‘all’ I mean me.

I did a few things on the beach near Playa Manzanillo that were awfully nostalgic. I had my first campfire since Baja. It took 45 minutes of nursing smoldering, rain soaked, drift wood to finally get it to burn but once I got it burning it lasted for 2 days. That process alone would not be possible if not for all my time in Juneau, AK learning how to convert wet wood into a roaring fire. Not because I had to, but oddly enough because I wanted to, I ate a Nissin Cup-O-Noodles and 2 fresh bananas for dinner. I hadn’t eaten a one since high school. It was damn good and took me back to a time when I was happy with cheap plastic tasting food. I did learn something new about them though. The perfect utensil for such an exquisite meal? A titanium spork. I’m not making it up. The damn thing is perfect. Tines for the noodles, spoon portion for the soup. A match made in heaven and one I plan to exploit again sometime soon. The second night on the beach I stopped everything to actually watch the sunset. Or observe the earth rotating as it were. It isn’t something I do very often. But the timing was right for me stare into the fiery orb for the 15 seconds it took to descend below the horizon. The whole world slows down when you take the time to stop and enjoy something that simple. I then took a few pics, turned 180 degrees and watched the full moon rise on the opposite horizon and instantly I was 15 years old again, sitting on Melissa Dixon’s trampoline with Kelly Welker. It was the first time I ever watched the sun truly set. And coincidentally we watched the moon rise as well. Unfortunately even with all that natural beauty going on around us I didn’t get lucky. I did however take her home in my friends Toyota Mini-truck. * Of course we managed to take the scenic, off road route back to her house. So all in all not a bad night.

My time on the empty stretch of beach ended with a near humiliating experience. After repacking the car, collapsing the tent etc etc. I took a dip in the almost too warm (yep me rubbing it in for all those buried in snow back home) ocean to clean up before my drive to Playa Herradurra. I had seen an SUV go up the beach about 20 mins earlier (in 2+ days I saw maybe 20 people) and figured I was all by my lonesome. With my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my wet shorts ready to change I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Two Americans, Jamie and Ryan, in their rented SUV had pulled up next to my camp as I was digging out clean clothes. Not as much for my sake as for theirs I’m glad I didn’t great them with an awful view of me in my birthday suit. I’m pretty sure they had no idea. But the embarrassment made me start sweating in the humid heat. So much for my bath. To make the issue even worse, while they were approaching me to ask for directions, I realized that Jamie was a rather attractive young lady. As I stood their dripping wet with sea water and sweat I was amazed at how gorgeous this woman was. Much like the previous night’s sunset I found myself just staring at the natural wonder. Jamie has to be one of the top three most beautiful women I have seen. Not in Costa Rica, not on this trip, but in my entire life. The kind of beauty that sort of stops you in your tracks and leaves you breathless. Even more so in contrast to my fat, hairy belly standing next to her . So I threw on the filthy shirt I rotated my tires in and stumbled through the directions to Playa Samarra with them. We shook hands and off they went.

The Conclusion: A few minutes later I was rallying down the beach, coke in hand, windows down, music blaring and genuinely in love with the beauty of Costa Rica’s Peninsula de Nicoya.

*Expedition Americas does not condone the illegal use of a motorized conveyance by minors or other unlicensed drivers. However, that doesn’t mean that the times of vehicular indiscretion are not remembered fondly. So while not condoning such behavior we are not going to condemn it either. Otherwise many great memories would also need be condemned.

some pics

Updated pics to the gallery. All of them are from Costa Rica.  I have quite a few more but checkout is in 30 mins so I’ll need to upload them later.

 

just in case you forgot…

 

http://www.expeditionamericas.com/gallery1.html

 

 

reader beware

Yep this is going to be one of those posts that I’m not sure why I’m writing it. However, without a doubt a handful of you will find it highly entertaining and very apropos of whom I am/used to be back home. If frank and honest talk about the wonderful world of digestive problems and a freak accident resulting in some intense pain to a certain sensitive area of the male anatomy offend you I suggest you stop reading now and wait for my “the beach was glorious and amazing” post which I hope to throw together tomorrow. But seriously stop here if you're easily offended by less than genteel and proper decorum. You have been warned.

So what would possess me to retell a tale that requires the above disclaimer? Perhaps my recent reading of Kevin Smith’s My Boring Ass Life has inspired my vulgar side. Perhaps the solitude and lack of English communication is splintering my psyche. Or maybe, just maybe, my closest friends will find this email hysterically funny and that is good enough for me. Ideally it will appeal to the majority of my gracious readers. And now the misadventures…

One of the constants in my life, and any of my friends and many of my co-workers will attest, is my unique dietary proclivities. I wouldn’t call myself picky, nor would I call myself a dullard. The reason for my peculiar eating habits is twofold. One, many textures trigger a fairly sensitive gag reflex. Two, the majority of my non-standard meals (and even many of those) stay with me for only a few minutes. We’ve all had those experiences. Running stop signs, sweat flowing through every pore on your body, the all important clench of the muscles saving you from public humiliation and embarrassment in a mad panic to reach the solitude of your own commode (with the reassurance of a shower nearby just in case it gets really out of hand.) Let’s just say that I’ve had more than my fair share of such experiences. I can’t even begin to count the number of times my body decided when it was ready to purge without the slightest concern for what my mind was thinking. Prior to my trip it was a constant conversation. What am I going to eat? How would I survive with my slight phobia of public restrooms? What am I going to do when the situation arises and there is nowhere to evacuate? (have I run out of euphemisms yet?) For all those who have seen me leave a restaurant while dumping cash on the table and running out early the topic was truly a source of amusement. Yet I find myself 7+ weeks into my Latin American journey and only one incident so far. It unfolded a bit like this.

About 3 weeks ago, after a long day of driving due to a mudslide and a washed out bridge, I pulled into Monteverde, CR. A nice town in the hills NW of San Jose. I had a tasty chicken and black bean quesadilla at the Rainforest or Paradise Café. I forget. Apparently I dined during a shift change because I asked for my check and 40 mins later I was still waiting for it. I left some money on the table to cover meal and tip and set out for my campsite a few hours away. The winding road, not too dissimilar to Farmington Canyon, UT but narrower descended 3k washboard ridden feet of glorious panoramas and coffee farms. About 30 mins outside of Monteverde that familiar feeling kicked in. I played the ‘my mind is more powerful than my body so I can prevent this from happening’ game for about 20 more mins as the pressure, stomach pain and sweat only intensified. The real fear is that my only real option was the side of the road. Tucked into a 60 degree slope the road didn’t offer many turn outs or places to hide. As the sun began to set, as the risk of dengue and malaria are both present I spotted a corner of a fence and little foot trail. TP and babywipes already in hand I slammed the truck into P and sped off into the trees. Just as I squat down I see a Chow of all things (seriously what the hell is a chow doing in the Costa Rican jungle?) trotting down the trail toward me. I’ve had some experience with pissed off chows during my years in Alaska. Those things can be mean. So I picked up a rock and backed my extremely puckered ass down the trail. On the other side of the road I spotted a tree with just enough roots holding up the hillside for a man to stand, or squat, on the edge of the 800 foot canyon. A quick sprint to the tree, check around for spectators and the body was instantly cleansing itself of the, what I have to assume, was undercooked chicken. And it was a doosey. The kind that leaves you shaking afterwards from the trauma. I cleaned up, built a fire with the paper and turned to head to the car. Within a second of me coming around the tree, two farmers emerge from the opposite trail with the chow and another mutt. I say hello, they spot the tp in my hand and laugh a little bit. I smiled and climbed in the truck laughing at the how much differently that exchange would have unfolded if they had arrived 90 seconds earlier during my purgation. So there you go Adam, Maddog, Hardy, Ryan, Hampton, Racker, Beef, JC, Paul, Cory, Jason, Mr. Helm, Bush, Farnes (who saw me suffer a similar but far more mosquito ridden affair along the Alaska Hwy) and everyone else who has often laughed at my panic and discomfiture over the years. Once in 2 months ain’t too bad considering Pace’s or Lorena’s will do it to me every single time.

While on the topic of extremely embarrassing situations how about another one from the road? I think that sounds like a resounding ‘yes’ from the one reader who has made it this far. With that vote of confidence here is round two of ‘dave is being way too honest about stuff we don’t want to know.’ For those who jumped on the Expedition Americas bandwagon early you are familiar with boxes I built for hauling all my crap. For those who missed it you can find it here. The amazing $10 hotel I mentioned in my last post lacked something else besides cleanliness and that would be secure parking. So I pulled my truck in as close to a corner as I could and began securing items in the locked boxes. Having come from the beach I was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of Gramicci quick-dry shorts. They are basically the thinnest material you can wear. Yep, how was that for a non-sequitur? But that bit of detail is important. I needed to climb across the boxes to grab my pillow from the rear passenger side of the car. Unbeknownst to me the lid on which I was lying wasn’t fully closed, until my fat ass threw his gut across it. At which time it slammed closed. No big deal really except the tip of a certain part of my body was in the way. Actually pinched in between would be a better description. The only protection being said quick-dry shorts . The pain was unreal. Searing, piercing pain, like I was being cut with a knife. It took about 10 seconds for me to get the courage to look down at what I assumed was the pool of blood forming in my shorts. Those 10 seconds were filled with traumatic thoughts of driving to the town of Jaco 8 miles away while my unintentional bloodletting sent me into shock. Of course once I arrived at the free clinic there would a line of Tico’s ready to laugh and point since they knew all I had ahead of me was stitches from a set of rusty forceps and a band aid. Well all those thoughts were wiped away with the relief I felt when I saw there was no blood. Once in my room I dropped the shorts and watched in total amazement (despite the continuing pain) as a blood blister formed right on the part that Ali G like to refer to as 'the bell-end' which looked eerily similar to a Dot. (I hope that doesn’t ruin your next trip to the Megaplex.) Then, even more astonishing, the cherry Dot evolved before my eyes into a grape Dot, and eventually black licorice. Please, no emails about how there is no such thing as black licorice, that true licorice is black and only other flavors need to be qualified. I’ve never understood licorice purists who like to point out the error in the name ‘black licorice.’ I wonder how they would feel if they knew I really called it ‘tastes like ass licorice’ since I loathe the stuff. Digression aside the blood blister has now been absorbed into what I can only call a tie dyed array of blacks, blues, reds and purples. The pain is gone but a slight amount of swelling remains. Which for a guy built like me isn’t necessarily a bad thing. And on that note. I hope I didn’t lose any readers tonight and ideally you all gained a little more understanding of how honesty might not always be the best policy.

dmc

my friends...

…kick ass. Now I realize that most people might have that opinion of their chosen compatriots, however, in my case it is more than just opinion it is fact. Now ‘why,’ you might be asking yourself ‘would Dave be posting about his friends while he is kicking it solo in Costa Rica?’ It is pretty simple really…

A few weeks ago I was IM’ing my friend Kelly Ivan Hildt about my desire to play golf. Now normally wanting to play golf in December isn’t really an issue. My home state of Utah is often too cold and occasionally buried in too much snow to worry about it. Winter is time to think about golf but no real option to get out for 18 holes. It is a completely different story when you’re melting away in the sweltering heat of Central America and every resort billboard features a gorgeous photograph of an ocean side course. One of the goals I had before leaving on my trip was to get my handicap back down where I felt like I was a decent player. Saving money for Expedition Americas and playing enough golf to achieve that goal was a challenge but not only did I lower it but managed to set a personal best 6.4. Yep that is a pat on my own back and one of the main reasons I have been dying to play golf. Unfortunately, there is one major problem with all the advertising; the courses are outrageously expensive. Hildt and I discussed a way to fund, or more precisely, justify the funds for a round of golf. In jest I suggested an email to my golfing clique begging for money. He approved of the idea and the email was sent. Within a day or two more than half of the outrageous green fee had been donated to my cause.

Money in hand (or in the paypal account)I set up a tee time at the Marriott Los Suenos resort. Why the Marriott? When Ben and I were in San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua eating lunch I asked the guy about his Bridgestone Golf (my preferred ball is the B330) hat and if he was a player. More than a player he traveled the mini-tours for a while back in the late 80s and he had recommended the course. A cursory review of a few websites confirmed the course as ‘the best in Central America.’ So off I went to Playa Herradurra. The $10 a night hotel a block away was filthy, hot, unclean, unsafe and dirty. Did I mention it wasn’t clean? I celebrated Christmas Eve with a pint of Haagen Daaz and an amazing sunset. Santa brought me some ideal weather and an wonderful course. Even more surprisingly in my stocking I found a decent round. Slope 132, fairly short at 6400 yards from the blue tees, yet narrow with uneven lies and quite a few creeks to negotiate. I managed a 39 on the front while playing solo and a 42 on the back after joining a twosome, then another single. 4 hour round but obviously it wasn’t evenly balanced. I hit the ball okay but truth be told I made 8 putts of 6 feet for more. So the round was more like and 85 but I’ll take it. I finished the round with an extremely long hot shower in the club house, which may seem irrelevant, but it was the first one I had had in over a week. It was a great way to spend my Christmas and I can’t tell you how cool my friends are for stepping up and making it happen. So thanks fellas.

More ramblings from the last two weeks lie ahead.

OK Unit Number: 0-7341800

SPOT. in costa rica. will be here for awhile.
Unit Number: 0-7341800
Latitude: 10.0053
Longitude: -83.7687
Nearest Town from unit Location: Raicero, Costa Rica
Distance to the nearest town: 3 km(s)
Time in GMT the message was sent: 12/26/2007 02:50:27

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=10.0053,-83.7687&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

OK Unit Number: 0-7341800

SPOT. in costa rica. will be here for awhile.
Unit Number: 0-7341800
Latitude: 9.6502
Longitude: -84.6553
Nearest Town from unit Location: La Mona, Costa Rica
Distance to the nearest town: 2 km(s)
Time in GMT the message was sent: 12/25/2007 17:49:18

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=9.6502,-84.6553&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

OK Unit Number: 0-7341800

SPOT. in costa rica. will be here for awhile.
Unit Number: 0-7341800
Latitude: 9.6622
Longitude: -84.658
Nearest Town from unit Location: Herradura, Costa Rica
Distance to the nearest town: 3 km(s)
Time in GMT the message was sent: 12/25/2007 17:11:30

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=9.6622,-84.658&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

banditry

I have plenty to type about to cover the last week but for now you get to read what ben has to say (but in my defense, he is the reason I have the damn life jacket, which I wore today as matter of fact. Pick up the book Deep Survival. It is a wonderful read about the science/physiology of survival and one ben recommended to me a few months prior to my trip.  Essentially I don’t want to get caught in an undertow/riptide in the middle of nowhere with no one around to help me. Didn’t happen today but I was prepared.  I haven’t seen a soul since about 8:30 am, and that freakshow had on a speedo) enjoy ben’s post and I’ve attached a pic of him on said desolate Nicaraguan beach.

 

 

So I find myself 13 days post trip, 6 am in the morning and I am still trying to grasp all that happened between November 29th and December 8th.  I have had two weeks to organize my thoughts and experiences into some semblance of coherency but they are still as muddled as ever.   With that said I apologize for the hodgepodge of thoughts and observations that will make up this blog entry.

To begin, I accompanied Dave from Cancun, Mexico to San Jose, Costa Rica.  If I were to do it over again, and someday I will, it was a trip that should have been a week longer or a couple hundred miles shorter.   Right around Tikal in northern Guatemala we started to realize the amount of ground we had to cover, prior to my flight out of Costa Rica.   This realization led to many late night drives and a couple of long days.  Which brings me to my first observation, everything you read and hear about Central America includes some advice about not driving at night.  Well I can definitively say you have to be crazy to drive in Central America no matter what time of the day.  In fact, night was as safe as daylight since you had less tractor trailers to pass and you could at least look for headlight around blind curves.

Another thought, that has nothing to do with the previous one, for the most part the food south of Mexico wasn’t that great.  Fortunately the Coke and the produce were excellent and sustained us most of the way.  Also, kudos to Dave who had the foresight to bring a baby loaf of Tillamook Cheese, some club crackers a cutting board and a cheese slicer.   Thats right a cutting board and cheese slicer.   

In fact, Dave had a few things packed that I found comical at first but each time I stood corrected when I saw their usefulness. For example, bath mats from Bed Bath and Beyond.  They make a wonderful driver side car mat.  Just the thought of Dave going into Bed Bath and Beyond is laughable, but in actuality it was nice to shed your shoes and feel plush carpet while driving.   Or how about a life jacket?  I almost fell over laughing when he showed me the spot he had set aside for a life jacket, of course I had envisioned a bright orange U shaped life jacket like you had to wear in Scouts.  However, after a dip in the Pacific on some remote beach in Nicaragua I become a believer.           

So prior to leaving on my leg of Dave’s adventure, this was the usual conversation with friends and family.    

Me- “Yeah a buddy of mine is driving to the tip of Argentina.  I'm going to meet up with him in Cancun and explore Central America before flying out of Costa Rica.   

Person I am talking to- “Why?” followed by “Oh I have a buddy that was in _______(insert Central American country here) and he was robbed blind and left for dead.”  

These are a few exerts I read while I studied up on Central America.  “Incidents of banditry occur in the remote North” or “A relatively high level of violent crime is committed against foreigners.  Vehicle-jackings are almost an everyday occurrence, especially in Guatemala City.”

 

So with these encouraging words, I left my wife, my three year old boy and my two month old baby (yeah I still can’t believe Camille let me go either). I was filled with trepidation and anxious about the unknown.  This is one of things that makes travel so interesting for me, prior to traveling I love to read up and study about a particular destination or culture and then learn that its completely different than my perception once I arrive.  This was the case in Central America.  I am not naive enough to think that bad stuff doesn’t happen, but my experience in Central America was the complete opposite of all the warnings.  

Most people are genuinely good and are willing to help others.  One of the more fascinating aspects of this trip were the serendipitous relationships we experienced on the way.   I got to the point were I couldn't wait for the next encounter to happen.  Dave has already written about many of these experiences, but check out this list of people; Staff at the Courtyard Marriott (you might think they don’t count cause they get paid, but anyone willing to press and hang Dave’s underwear on a hanger is a good person), the waitress at Amigos, Canadian couple on KLRs, Guatemalan guy at the border, the cousins on KTMs, fat guy at the Soccer stadium, caribbean guy at the soccer stadium, Jenny and the other border agent girl, the two shoe shine kids at a border,  Alan, Bayron the kid that gave me a bible, the sandwich shop guy from Morgan Utah, the Marriott guy who Dave fell in love with over a truck.

Maybe we were just lucky, but all these people contributed to the same epiphany Ewan Mcgregor had during the “Long Way Around,” the majority of people are still good.  

To conclude, I probably could summarize this entire blog entry into one sentence-People who drive in Central America are crazy, the majority of the human race is still good (at least in Central America) and Dave shops at Bed Bath and Beyond.   Thanks Dave for having the courage to dream up and execute Expedition Americas and thank you for allowing me to enjoy some of the ride.  

OK Unit Number: 0-7341800

SPOT. in costa rica. will be here for awhile.
Unit Number: 0-7341800
Latitude: 9.7198
Longitude: -85.22
Nearest Town from unit Location: San Lucas, Costa Rica
Distance to the nearest town: 2 km(s)
Time in GMT the message was sent: 12/22/2007 23:29:25

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=9.7198,-85.22&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

hello

Yeah either I am a total bum or not a lot is going on. Maybe a bit of both. I’m in Spanish school in Orosi Valley so don’t expect too much from me this week. 

 

Dave Connors

Lead - Expedition Americas

www.expeditionamericas.com

 

OK Unit Number: 0-7341800

SPOT. in costa rica. will be here for awhile.
Unit Number: 0-7341800
Latitude: 10.1749
Longitude: -85.3723
Nearest Town from unit Location: Santa Ana, Costa Rica
Distance to the nearest town: 2 km(s)
Time in GMT the message was sent: 12/17/2007 02:20:10

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=10.1749,-85.3723&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

time to reflect

After enough sweating on the beach I decided to head to the hills.  I’ve seen the commercial for the movie I AM LEGEND with Will Smith. Apparently something to do with him being the last man alive. Well if that were me I would find myself a nice fancy car, like a Ferrari or Aston Martin and come drive the InterAmericana between  San Isidro and San Jose, Costa Rica. It’s an amazing stretch of road that climbs 6k feet through the jungle on a winding, twisting narrow ribbon of tarmac (just for your rally enthusiasts) that any driver can appreciate.  Beautiful.  I pretty much drove right through San Jose and up to the Parque Nacional Volcan Poas (I’m going from memory on the name) it closes at 3:30 so at 3:33 I set up camp at a small Cabinas and restaurant near the park entrance.  A brief chat with the caretaker and a camping spot was mine for the taking. Dinner was a whopping $3 but for once I probably overpaid. Good thing camping was free.  However the bad food was more than compensated for by the absolutely amazing view.  The chilly 40 degree temps and 8k elevation combined for one of the best night sleeps I’ve had in awhile. 

 

After waking up early and rested I drove up to the park and went for a hike around the volcano.  It was hard reconciling a volcano summit with the lush forest surrounding the cauldron. Instead of taking pics I wanted to just savor the experience.  Stare at the smoldering sulphuric pool, inhaling the humid, acrid air, evesdropping on American and german tourists.  A brief 15 min walk took me to a separate cauldron.  This one no longer warm, rainwater having filled the dormant basin. More admiring, more evesdropping.  It was a relaxing treat to not try and document the experience. Just to live in the moment.  Or maybe I forgot to put the card back in my camera and it sat in the card reader with my laptop while I tramped around the hillside with my camera over my shoulder. I’ll let you decide. Regardless it was a good morning. Tonight crashing in a $10 fairly clean but sparse cabina in Fortuna at the base of Volcan Arenal. Tomorrow more hiking.

 

 

Dave Connors

Lead - Expedition Americas

www.expeditionamericas.com

 

abundance part 2

…where did I leave off? That’s right. Guatemala.

 

I don’t even know where to start.  Antigua was high on my list of places to see and worth the long drive somewhat out of our way to get there. Little did I know that Guatemala City would be the adventure it is.  What city of 1M people exists without street signs? How in the hell do people get anywhere?  Well we got somewhere. Only had to ask 37 different people what road we should take.  Seriously, how can 12 Zonas be a strategy for organization?  Ben and I referred to the stretch between Rio Hondo (Piston Honda, okay now I need to go off on a real tangent, it was really ben’s idea but we ran with it for a  few hours and I think it will be implemented in various aspects from here on out.  If you are trying to come up with criteria for evaluating multiple and disparate items trying using characters from Mike Tyson’s Punch Out as your scale. No I’m not kidding. Try it.) and Antigua as the Racimo. I assume it means the same in Spanish as English. Regardless after seeing pretty much every road in Guatemala City I can say I have no desire to go back. Well maybe to get back to Antigua.

Antigua was everything the guidebooks and recommendations made it out to be. Charming. Historic. Diverse. Beautiful. We even forked out big bucks, $35 a piece, for a hotel that would have been $200 had it been in Sedona or Palm Springs.  Food was great and cheap.  Souvenirs were overpriced and poor quality.  So I guess I have to go back to the Racimo because Antigua is a town that deserves more time.  Unfortunately we didn’t have the time we needed.

 

After a late breakfast we set out to the Honduran border. I’ve already covered our friend Ginny and the lengthy crossing as well as the Futbol match so not a ton left to say about Honduras.  Yep I can wrap up and entire country in two sentences. Come to think of it already talked about most of Nicaragua as well. 

 

One of the things that still intrigues me after hours of thought (yep I’m that dumb) and discussion with Ben is the diversity of each country, literally at the border.  Okay not at the border. Every border town is dusty, impoverished and full of people looking to get money from you.  But the people, the topography, the forests, the architecture are vastly different country to country.  Were the borders established because of the differences or were the disparities the genesis of the borders. At this point I think I assign people from a line up to their respective country. Almost like and IQ test question. Ben made the comment that he used to think everyone south of Texas was the same.  Although identifying similarities is easy, identifying differences is even less difficult.

 

That brings up the Nicaraguan/Costa Rican border.  Aware of the conflict between Nic and CR we were hoping somehow that a couple of touristas from the US might get a bit more courtesy than the rival nationalities. Nope. 4 hours. 3.5 of which were sitting and doing nothing. Just sitting and doing nothing. And doing nothing and sitting. Fun.  Again there are far worse things to do in life than wait to enter a beautiful country like Costa Rica.   Once over the border it was a long dark drive to San Jose. Ben flew out early on Saturday morning.

 

Having Ben along was more than just a help with the language (although I now know how far I need to go and am looking at immersion schools for next week) it made for a very entertaining week.  There is always a bit of fear going into 10 straight days with someone no matter how well you know them.   Well after about 4 hours we started laughing and didn’t stop until he left.  For two virtual strangers it was one hell of a good time. Thanks benji. Next time we’ll take more time.

 

Dave Connors

Lead - Expedition Americas

www.expeditionamericas.com