Perusing

After leaving our monkey-world we headed on down to Riobamba to take the infamous ´Nariz del Diablo´ train ride that winds down steep switchbacks into southern Ecuador. Unfortunately it was out of service, as we have found about 30% of all businesses, services, and copy machines to be in South America. While coming up with a backup plan we came to the conclusion that we had picked up too many habits and
mannerisms from the monkeys, and really weren´t quite ready for civilization. We packed up again and caught the bus out to Parque Nacional Las Cajas outside the town of Cuenca, a little visited Andean reserve cluttered with small lakes and streams. The park was incredible and we had nearly the whole place to ourselves, passing only two other hikers during our 3 day, 2 night backpacking trip. The trail wound past a plethora of lakes and I was able to stop and try my luck with some trout fishing at a few. Unfortunately my luck turned out to be complete crap, because after catching my only fish (a whopping 4¨) I slipped trying to release the creature and nearly fell in. Luckily I caught myself with the fingernail of my right index finger, tearing it about halfway off and cutting up the neighboring digits in the process. After an evening of pain followed by a night of blissful pain-killer induced sleep we continued on, and the trip once again became beautiful and serene as we hiked passed Incan ruins and wild llamas on our way through the canyon. We popped out onto the road late in the afternoon and hitchhiked back to Cuenca, fully aware that we were behind schedule and needed to make haste to Perú.

My streak of good health continued when I found myself with a fever and horrible stomach ache in the deservingly unheard of border town of Huaquillas. We spent 2 nights there recovering and listening to the horrendous sounds of the local festival, where about 30 drunken adults pack into a little play locomotive for children and scream while the latest reggaeton masterpieces are played on the trains loudspeakers. Finally we crossed the border and my spirits improved when we hit the coastal town of Máncora for some surfing and ceviche. The waves were perfect for a perpetual beginner like me, and Viviana was able to get a one-on-one lesson that got her hooked immediately. We spent a few days riding the waves and avoiding the odd looking Peruvian hairless dogs before continuing south to Chiclayo to catch up on some culture.



This time it was Vivianas turn. I woke up our first morining in Chiclayo to the sound of Viviana releasing last nights ceviche back into the wild. The situation did not look good, so we went straight to the ER of the local hospital. After hooking up an IV and a little more reverse swallowing, we were able to spend the day getting an inside look at the Peruvian health care system. We spent the whole day waiting for results and information while we watched car accident victims, elderly patients, and a young woman that seemed to have completely lost her mind flow through the room. Eventually Viviana got a little ciproflaxin pick-me-up and we headed home. Finally we were both feeling better and we began our tour of the ancient adobe civilizations, the Mochica and Chimú people. North of Chiclayo we saw the pyramid complex of Túcume, an impressive set of pyramids and other buildings all made of adobe. We also stopped by the Museo de Sipán, which houses the findings of the tomb of the Lord of Sipán, who must have been the Jay-Z of the 9th century based on the immense collection of intricate golden necklaces, nose rings, crowns, and other jewelry removed from his tomb. After Chiclayo we made our way down to our current location, Trujillo, and continued the culture course with the Mochica city of Chan-Chan and the massive complexs of Huaca de la Luna and Huaca del Sol. Chan-Chan is an impressive labyrinth of walls, tombs, and ponds that have been restored to their previous splendor. While I found the ancient city to be thoroughly inspiring, the local school children on their field trip seemed to think that a dirty blonde kid
with a red beard was a far rarer sight and I was soon overwhelmed with children wanting to pose with me in their photos. My look must really be perfected now as I also had some yelling out ´Chuck Norris!´ from across the street the other day. But this story is really about the Mochica, and the next buildings we saw were the Temples of the Sun and the Moon. The Temple of the Moon is an old religous center that was continually built up, layer upon layer, for centuries. The outer layers, along with a giant pile of sand, helped protect the intricate details and vibrant colors on the inner layers and these have in turn helped reveal a lot about their unique culture of sacrifices and religious rituals. In times of drought, a bloody gladiator style fight would be held and the loser of the battle would be beheaded, with his blood collected in a cup. The cup would then be brought up to the top of a large stadium and tossed out in front of 10,000 spectators.

The stories of Peruvian history go on, but this one needs to come to an end so I can get out of this internet cafe blasting the Billboard Top 100. Tomorrow we plan to head up to the Cordillera Blanca for some more camping and exploring. The Cordillera Blanca is supposed to be the second largest mountain range in the world, so it should have something for us. It will be a nice change to have less excitement in the Peruvian bathrooms, and more adventure out in the mountains and woods of the Andes.

The Monkey Revolution

Well once again I have gotten lost in the turmoil of traveling and neglected my blog for a bit longer than anticipated. I apologize. Now that that´s out of the way, let´s see if I can get things up to do date...

Salento turned out to be a beautiful, low key mountain town up in the Colombian Andes. It had provided us with some familiar comforts we had been badly missing, such as nice soft beds and delicious pizza. Of course that´s not really our style, so we were quick to toss these aside in turn for a butt breaking horse back ride and a spine straining backpack trip. We arranged the horse ride through an incomprehensible local with one remaining tooth, and his equally odd looking son led us down the road and out to a hidden waterfall a couple hours ride away. I am very much a novice on the animal, and this was Vivianas first time, so we got more than our $10 worth with the steep muddy slopes, dark tunnels, and river crossings. The way back was even more harrowing as the horses slipped and lurched up a narrow, and incredibly muddy, horse trail up a steep hill. The day after the horse trip we decided it might be better to rest our bruised asses and do our backpacking trip into the Valle de Cocora by foot. The first hour wound along a river through picturesque old farmland dotted with wax palms, a local palm tree noted for its especially long, thin trunk. The next section was dense cloud forest, and this we remember for the numerous sketchy bridge crossings, slowly inching with our maxed out backpacks along a couple of small trees felled across the river. After 7 such crossings we arrived at a small house where the overseer of the area resides with his wife. The house was swarmed by more hummingbirds than I had ever seen in my life, including one with a 4 inch beak (Swordbill), and another one with a 6 inch emerald green tail (Long Tailed Sylph). The next two nights we set up our tent on the second floor inside an unfinished barn and passed the evening cooking our meals on the balcony with a great view of the treetops. We were able to catch a few other birds on the trail including an Elegant Trogon and a Pava. After two nights we climbed back out and started south for the hidden tombs of Tierradentro.

Tierradentro is located a 5 hour, bumpy, landslide-strewn bus ride east of Popayan off the pan-american. The town is very small and quiet, and an afternoon of drinking beer by the soccerfield offered us a view of the country life as kids played soccer, horses ran free, and old women gossiped in their doorways. The second day we hiked up and explored the tombs of Aguacate, a series of holes in the ground that lead to ancient tombs of unknown origin. They are all laid out in a line on the crest of a large hill and it makes for a rather eerie experience, especially when you turn on your headlamp and see the plethora of insect life clinging to the walls. We spent only a couple nights here and felt Ecuador pulling us toward it (ironic since there is less gravitational pull there than anywhere else on our trip).

It should be noted that the pan-american highway is not just I-5 for 27000 miles. In Colombia the road is a small undivided 2 lane road winding through turns that prompt the drivers to hand out vomit bags before each journey. The section from Pasto to Ipiales turned out to be the worst that I have experienced so far on my trip. It was only one hour, but the entire time we were clutching our seats in horror as the bus driver consistently passed cars over double lines along sharp blind turns, all while going up to 85kph in the 20kph zone. Of course none of the other passengers blinked an eye at his suicidal manouveres, but I just can´t seem to get used to the insane drivers in Latin America.

We ran off the bus in Ipiales and decided we should thank the higher powers for delivering us safely before we left the country, so we caught a cab over to Santuario Las Lajas, a gorgeous gothic style church spanning a river gorge. The church was exceptional with hundreds of followers in mass when we arrived, but its powers were not strong enough to protect us from the devils true face: the Colombian border security. Viviana had only received a 30 day visa when she entered Colombia, and she had overstayed by two days. In order to receive an exit visa they were trying to charge a $150 fine (I had paid $5 for overstaying my C4 visa in Nicaragua). As we argued for a lower fee we were approached by some interesting characters saying they had ´special connections´ and could get the stamp for half the price. After over an hour of debating we went with the private contractor and a nerve racking taxi ride to the ATM along with another hour of arguing got us the visa for a mere $130 (hmm...). Needless to say we were happy to cross the imaginary, yet laborious line into Ecuador.

In Ecuador we headed straight to Quito, where we spent a few days visiting the local sights and getting a feel for the new culture. We saw a number of churches, including the Basilica del Voto Nacional (a gothic church with gargoyles of turtles, anteaters, iguanas, and other local animals), and the Iglesia Santo Domingo (with twisted paintings of sheep licking up Christs blood, among others). We also made a short trip to the tourist attraction of La Mitad del Mundo, to pass an hour or so hopping between hemispheres. Five relaxing days in Quito prepared us for more adventure, so we went to Quitos´ incredibly new and spacious bus terminal and made our way towards Latacunga.



Before arriving in Latacunga we stopped at Volcan Cotopaxi, a monstrous volcano topped by an expansive glacier. Transportation there was expensive and difficult, so we camped for a night and continued on. After one night in the state capitol of Latacunga we took a detour up to Laguna Quilotoa, an emerald green laguna up in a remote section of the Andes. We hiked a good distance around the lagoon and laughed at the llamas before coming back to Latacunga for the Feria de la Mama Negra, an indigenous festival masked as an homage to the catholic Virgen Mercedes. The festival was unlike any I had ever seen, and the whole thing took place as a long parade that lasted 8 hours (two rotations of 4 hours). It could be divided into
about 50 smaller units, each one starting with a group of costumed dancers, then a band, and followed up by the towns strongest man carrying a wooden backpack with an entire roast pig, about 12 roast chickens, 10 roast guinea pigs, and maybe 15 bottles of liquor tied on. The whole contraption was so big he had to be followed by two guys with a table, and when he needed rest they would set the table down and he could sit the backpack down on it for a minute, then lumber forward and start again. In addition to the pig backpack, there was also a shaman within each unit. He would select random members from the crowd, including myself, twice, and rub herbs in their face, then spit alcohol all over them in a sort of smelly baptism. All along the parade were people handing out free shots of local homemade alcohol, and we did not hesitate to partake. Unfortunately I may have indulged a bit much, and the evening ended a bit sour as someone snatched my camera during my drunken arm in arm dance through a tower of fireworks. How could I have known...?

Continuing along the trail we stopped in the tourist center of Baños for some rafting and late night partying. We floated down the Pastaza river with about 170 other people in a tribute to a local guide that had recently lost his life to the same river. That night we barbecued trout with the local raft guides we had met, and then danced until our legs hurt. A couple of drunken nights and hangover filled days in Baños and we were ready to slow things down with a little volunteer work in nearby Puyo.

Puyo is a town on the edge of the Ecuadorian Amazon, and for the last week we have been shacked up with about 70 primates at the Paseo de los Monos monkey reserve. It is a refuge and rehabilitation center for monkeys, coatis, and birds, and along with 4 other volunteers and a couple of full time employees we have been taking care of the mischievious little creatures. Taking care of monkeys consists of cutting up fruit, getting your hair pulled, cleaning up dishes, getting your ankles bitten, making new informational brochures, and yanking dueling monkeys off your head.
Despite the numerous bruises and teeth marks, it has been a blast. There are seven species of monkeys at the reserve, and the vast majority run free in the forest, coming to the house to eat and play. If you are near the house, no more than 5 minutes will pass before some monkey comes up and tries to climb on you or swing from your arms. Two days ago was an especially eventful day at the reserve. It began with news that Ecuadors president, Rafeal Correa, had recently been taken out of power by a military coup upset about salary changes. This also implied that there was no active police force in all of Ecuador, and rioting had already begun in the capitol and the largest city, Guayaquil. While processing the implications of this information, it started to rain outside and I noticed the trees were blowing a bit more than normal outside. Soon there came a gust of wind that lasted all of 30 to 40 seconds (literally), but knocked down 5 trees on the property, including one that hit the back of the house and crushed the cage that housed the most dangerous animal on the reserve (a very ornery amazonian Coati with nasty incisors). Before we had even assessed the damage we were out by the cage, trying to keep the angry animal inside the cage with a stick while we repaired the torn open area with wire mesh. Despite the disasters at the reserve and the turmoil with the president, by the end of the next day the animal was safe at home, and the Coati was back in his cage as well.

Today we decide our next move. We would like to go up into the Peruvian Amazon to the city of Iquitos, but since we are not using airplanes, and there are no roads to Iquitos, this would mean a 6 day boat trip to arrive, and then 5 days to return. While the next move is unsure, at least we can look forward to a little piece and quiet from our biting, fighting, tree-dwelling neighbors.

El Vaiven del Viaje

Continuing along the carribean coast we landed in Santa Marta, a popular vacation spot for locals, but for reasons I don't understand. The main beach is also a shipping port with Panamax ships cruising in all the time, and the waterfront, while pleasant at times, can quickly turn into a boxing arena as locals scrap over women, drugs, or chicle. After a few days there we realized that neighboring Taganga is a much more pleasant place to stay, and we checked into the Oso Perezoso, a laid back hotel with rooftop hammocks and excellent fruit crepe breakfasts. Our main goal in this part of the coast was to go to Tayrona National Park to camp and play in the waves, so after a couple nights in Taganga we hopped on the bus, then another bus, then hitchhiked, and then began the hike into the park. The hike in goes through some nice dense jungle and we spotted a sloth hanging out along the way. We quickly became friends with the couple we had hitchhiked with and it was nice to meet some Colombians that weren't pushing hot dogs on us or trying to exchange our money. Arriving at the beach we found that we had to pay $15 a night to camp, even though we had brought out own tent, and the only restaurant around charged $9 for a simple meal. Luckily we had prepared for the high food prices, and my bag was stuffed with food, including an entire roast chicken, the smell of which peaked my appetite to the point of insanity along the hike. We spent two nights at the park, playing in the waves, building sand castle crabs, and even getting tan in unlikely spots on the nude beach.

While Tayrona had some very beautiful aspects, we left the coast feeling a bit discouraged. The prices were high, the people were generally rude, haggling was required everywhere, and the beaches were even a little below our jaded standards (Viviana just coming from Puerto Rico, and me just coming from San Blas). We had begun to get a little nervous that Colombia would not live up to the rave reviews we had been hearing for years.



Fortunately the interior of the country gave us a completely different experience. Our first stop was the mountain town of San Gil, a center of outdoor adventure for tourists, and a beautiful small town filled with friendly locals. From there we spent a day exploring the smaller picturesque towns of Barichara and Guane, full of colonial buildings with whitewashed adobe architecture. The next day we did a 60 meter repel down the bottom third of a 180 meter waterfall. We were thoroughly enjoying the town, but decided to leave to pursue our dream of backpacking in El Cocuy National Park, a reserve full of snowcapped peaks, lagoons and rivers, all located well off the tourist track. We left our unnecessary equipment at the hostel in San Gil and headed out by bus along the crazy winding roads along the Chicamocha gorge. After 4 hours of the twisting roads we both felt sick and decided to recover at a hotel in Tunja before finishing the last 10 hour leg to the park. Unfortunately, when we awoke and went to buy tickets we were informed that a landslide had closed the road, and were left with no option but to return to San Gil along the gut wrenching road.

After recovering our equipment, a third trip back down the same road brought us into Bogota. Remembering the squalor and insecurity of the Central American capitals I had visited, my expectations for Bogota were pretty low. We checked into our hostal and set out to see the city. I soon realized that Bogota is full of culture, activity, and nightlife. We visited a number of museums the first day, including the Museo del Oro (gold museum), Museo de la Policia (police museum with Pablo Escobars jacket and blood stain), and the Botero Museum (popular Colombian artist who drew pictures of fat little cartoon people). Most of them had free entrance as well, which appealed to my penny-pinching side. At night we prowled the streets of the La Candelaria district, chatting with locals, drinking Aguila beer, and taking in the aroma of the ganja plant that seems to fill the streets all over Colombia. The next day we hopped a bus over to the salt cathedral, a gigantic church built into an active salt mine. The cathedral has 14 small chambers with the stations of the cross, as well as 2 much larger chambers for masses and events, and occupies an area of 8000 sq meters (~72000 sq ft.) all located 200 meters (~1800 ft) underground (it could be argued that the church brings you closer to the scorching inferno than the pearly gates). The crosses, statues, pilars, and nearly everything in the cathedral is carved out of the salt stone itself, making for an unusual ambience. The last day in Bogota we took part in the cyclovia, a public event held every Sunday where they close down the main thoroughfares in the city to car traffic and open it up to bikes, skateboards, rollerblades, and pedestrians. We rented some bikes and cruised down the busy streets, buying up fresh mango, shishkabobs, and other street food along the way. The closed down streets are lined with activities as well, such as public aerobics classes, concerts, and markets. We made our way to the giant Simon Bolivar park and then back to the hotel, for a total of about 120 blocks. The next day we said our farewells to the city and grabbed the overnight bus to Medellin to meet up with some friends.

In Tucson both Viviana and I had an unusual number of Colombian friends, and almost all of the ones that have returned home now live in Medellin. We spent the last week staying at our friend Jorge's house, exploring the city by day and crawling the streets for rumba by night. Medellin is full of metrocables, ski-lift like public transportation that takes you up the steep hills of the valleys, and e took one of these up to the giant parque Arvi. Our next couple days were spent checking out the downtown area, including museums and city parks (such as the Parque de Los Pies Descalzos, where everyone has to go around barefoot). At night we went saw live salsa music in the club and live jazz in the street. We went to the zona rosa and tasted the citys huge array of fruit infused rum and exotic mojitos. On the weekend we cruised the windy, landslide prone roads up to some small pueblos in the mountains and swam in rivers, marvelled at the colorfully painted balconies, and listened to charming tales of horrifying machete assaults that the local children told us. An unfortunate pothole on the way back sent the car battery up into the hood, short circuiting the alarm and causing a minor 1 and a half hour delay while we solved the issue, as well as some minor ear damage from the endless siren. Despite the horror stories, it was very interesting to me that out of all the major cities I've visited so far, I felt safer walking the streets at night in Medellin than anywhere else. While poverty is still rampant in Colombia, it has made some amazing developments recently and in my experience looks to be a lot further along than almost any country I visited in Central America (with the possible exception of Costa Rica).

After bidding farewell to our gracious host we hopped onto another bus for the twisting road to Salento, a small mountain town in the 'Zona Cafetera' (coffee zone). From here we plan to get back to nature with some hiking, fishing, and hopefully horseback riding. Then its off to Ecuador for mountains and volunteer work.

Gran Colombia

My first stop in Panama was the city of David, where I caught a bus up to Cerro Punto to do a 2 day hike through the highlands to Boquete. The trail offered some great views and a fair amount of bird watching with only a few washed out sections. I strung up my hammock in a small clearing on top of a hill and settled in for the night. It looked as though thunderstorms were coming in from all sides, but my good luck continued and after 30 minutes it was clear skies, a full moon, and the sound of howler monkeys in the distance. The downside of the trip was that it got very cold during the night in the uninsulated hammock, and I also made friends with a number of tics, one of which was embedded in my foot. The hike ended in the popular tourist town of Boquete, which really didnt impress me much and seemed to be more of a gringo retirement village than a backpacker hotspot, so I cruised down to nexus of the Americas, Panama City.

The Panama City skyline quickly put to shame that of any other Central American city. Upon arrival I headed straight down to the unusual Casco Viejo district, a wild contrast of dilapidated colonial structures and rejuvenated government buildings. In the daytime you can just walk around enjoying the scenery and eating 75 cent hot dogs, but at night the criminal element pours in from the neighboring ghetto making the streets very dangerous and all blonde people targets. Luckily someone realized this and built the Luna´s Castle hostal, a giant colonial mansion packed with rooms and endless partying. The first night I took the party bus around town, a retired US school bus with the seats taken out and replaced by a dance floor, a bar, a DJ, and some poles to hang on to (or show your skills on). I made a few attempts to leave the city for nearby attractions, but was thwarted at the beach by high prices, and shut down in the jungle by crazy rainstorms (which put a foot of water in my hostel that night). My primary goal in Panama City was to arrange a boat trip to Cartagena, and after a few days I had it all ready with Luke and Sarah.



Luke is the captain of the sailboat Nepenthe, which means anti-depressant in some language I can´t remember. Anyway, the 41ft sailboat is aptly named and the 5 day sailing trip removed every remnant of Panama City stress I had. The first 3 days were spent sailing through the remote San Blas archipelago, a string of tiny picturesque islands often with only one village, one house, or one palm tree on them. We snorkelled a shipwreck, barbecued on an uninhabited island, and fished. I got a little innovative with the fishing on this trip, catching jack (the fish, not the colloquialism) on the hand line and even catching a fish while in the act of snorkelling (sort of an underwater pet on a leash). We hooked into a few big ones, including a 9ft nurse shark, but weren´t able to get the monsters into the boat. After playtime was over we set sail, but there was no wind so we took the sails down and used the engine to power us over to Cartagena, a 36 hour voyage.



After the dighy dropped me off I realized I had finally reached the South American continent. I checked into the hostel and went out to explore the walled city in the heart of the larger metropolis. Cartagena is full of balcony-lined historic buildings, salsa music, and expensive beer. My anxiety of seeing my long lost girlfriend was growing quite a bit at this point so I didn´t do too much the first few days.

On Wednesday I picked Viviana up at the airport and set off to show her my honed traveling know-how on an excursion to a volcano filled with mud you can bathe in. We took the city bus down to the terminal and hopped on the connecting bus for the hour and a half journey to the volcano. Three hours later I was starting to think I may have made a mistake. We got off at the completely uninteresting town of Barranquilla, ate some chicken and started back for Cartagena. On the way back the bus pulled up to a line of traffic 15 minutes out of the Cartagena that looked fairly normal, until we saw cops running by with their guns drawn. The bus made a speedy 10 point turn on the narrow road and went to a nearby gas station so the driver and passangers could yell at eachother for a half an hour. We slowly found out that there was a riot because the town had been without electricity for a month, and some teenagers began lighting things on fire and throwing rocks at the cops in the middle of the street. Luckily it was cleared up after another hour and we eventually made it home.

Two days after my humbling experience, we headed out to Santa Marta, a beach town where the locals come to party on the weekends. From here we plan to take care of some last minute travel arrangements and do some camping and swimming in the Parque Tayrona. With Central America under my belt and South America under my feet I feel ready for whatever comes next...

Nicas and Ticos

So where was I... After a short stay visiting churches and drinking beer in Granada I caught the chicken bus on up to León to catch up on my history. León was a major participant in the Sandinista movement and I spent a good deal of time there learning about the intriguing and controversial past of the FSLN party, including partaking in a ceremonial march to the barracks once held by Somoza. I'll spare you the history lesson, but it makes for some excellent reading, full of CIA conspiracies, illegal weapons trade, and passionate revolution. I also took some time to learn Nicaraguan billiards and see some bubbling pits of mud.


After León I shot down to the island of Ometepe in Lake Nicaragua. Ometepe is formed from two volcanic peaks whose lava flows have created a land bridge between them, and truly resembles something out of a fairy tale. One peak is very active with smoke often pouring out of the crater, while the other is covered in lush jungle with a swimmable lagoon at the top. After a short night of partying with some out of control Tazmanians I did a little makeshift camping around the coast, climbed to the lagoon, and spent some time on the beach watching futbol and relaxing. To save money and increase the excitement I have been avoiding guides on my travels and doing as many adventures on my own as possible, and Ometepe was perfect for the independent explorer. The island offered some excellent wildlife viewing, and was a nice segway into my short visit to Costa Rica.

A 10 hour boat ride across the lake brought me into Costa Rica where I had my first encounter with the criminal element. It seems that the entire country of Costa Rica has been conspiring to empty my bank account with $20 lunches and $8 bottles of water. Luckily I have been able to survive through camping and purifying my own water. However, even the atrocious prices cannot detract from the immense beauty and amazing wildlife of the Osa Peninsula. This peninsula in southwestern Costa Rica has a huge amount of biodiversity, and a few nights in the jungle offers some incredible encounters. I setup my hammock in the Corcovado national park and was immediately greeted by a flock of Scarlet Macaws. Another day on the trail provided 3 species of monkeys, anteaters, eagles, parrots and numerous other flora and fauna.

Now I am heading into Panama to prepare for my journey to Colombia. I am hoping to catch a yacht over to Cartagena, which I have heard is a 4-5 day voyage. This gives me about another 10 days before I should arrive in Panama City and I'm not sure where this time will be spent. But with any luck my next update will be from Colombia, and the soliloquy will become a duet.

Honduras in a Hurry

My original plan in Honduras was to head over to the remote La Moskitia region and visit some indigenous villages, but after looking at my calendar I realized I probably didn't have time to explore it properly. My back up plan led me to the popular Bay Islands in Honduras. I took a temporary break from my penny pinching ways and caught a ferry out to Utila to see what all the hype was about. The island was very clean and nice, but far too overrun with tourist establishments for my tastes. I attempted to go scuba diving, but a storm came and the trip was cancelled at the last minute, leaving nothing to do but drink cheap rum and watch world cup games. After a few days on the island I decided to return to the mainland and keep moving.

My next stop was the serene Lago de Yojoa in northern Honduras. At first I shot straight over to a little microbrewey run by a fellow Oregonian, but was discouraged to find out he was actually a beligerent drunk who just wanted to ramble on about US politics, so I quickly moved to a more low key location right on the lake. I spent a couple days canoeing and birdwatching in the nearby cloudforest, then hit the road again.

After stopping for a few days in the small town of San Marcos de Colon, I crossed into Nicaragua. Near Lago de Yojoa I had been doing a fair amount of hitchhiking to get from place to place, and once I entered Nicaragua I decided to try and thumb a ride and avoid the public transportation. The first trucker I asked offered me a ride and carried me all the way down to Managua, about 4 hours south. Since then I have been hitchhiking whenever possible, and have had a lot of fun riding in trucks full of pigs, 18 wheelers, or even sitting on racks of Pepsi 3 liters.

Now I am in Granada where I have been exploring the nearby volcanoes. The first one I visited was Volcan Masaya, which emits a constant cloud of steaming sulfuric fumes from one crater, and has a nice lush forest in the other crater. I also visited the Lago de Apoyo, a large lake in the middle of a crater where you can swim or just lounge in hammocks by the shore. My current plan is to continue the volcano tour with a few days in Leon and maybe a week or so on the island of Ometepe in Lake Nicaragua.

One recurring topic throughout my central american travels has been the new Arizona immigration law. The locals I meet along the way continually bring this up, and I have spent a good deal of time trying to explain to them how it got passed, and how it doesn't represent the feelings of most Americans. I can say from firsthand experience that the law is adding another large scar to the US' already questionable reputation abroad. While some lawmakers may try and argue that the law will remove illegal immigrants and return jobs to the US, it is most definitely angering the latin american world, which has always been immeasurably important to US prosperity. When you add in the obvious racism it seems clear that the law does not belong in the books, and will only serve to hurt our relationship with latinos abroad, and at home.

The Canoe Trip

After leaving MayaPedal I decided to head on over to the Carribean coast for some tropical weather and jungle exploration. The whole country had just been beaten down by a number of natural disasters, and it seemed like a good idea to move away from volcanoes and fault lines.

After a short stay in Guatemala City I arrived at the Rio Dulce river. A boat ride took me through the canyon to the seaside village of Livingston, a mix of hispanic and Garifuna culture (descendents of slaves from St Vincent, relocated to the coast due to consistent, and often successful, rebellion). During the boat ride I quickly realized that the best place to be in this area was not the tourist centers of the town of Rio Dulce or Livingston, but between the two on the river itself.

The locals along the river all use simple dug-out canoes to get around, and I decided this was the best way for me to explore as well. With a few days of haggling with the locals I was able to secure an overpriced and completely broken canoe. Another two days and I had an overpriced and poorly repaired canoe, complete with a watertight bucket and improvised storage compartment.

The journey took me from Livingston back up to Rio Dulce in 5 days. I was a bit nervous to begin because I had brought all my camping equipment and camera, and the canoe was riding rather low in the water. I had drawn a little map for myself, but had a lot of difficulty getting straight information from the locals. The first day I rowed up to one of two hotels in between the two towns. The first one is called Finca Tatin and had all the amenities: rope swing, foosball table, and really cool grotto area I was able to park the canoe. Unfortunately they wouldnt let me cook my own food, in an effort to force me to buy an expensive dinner, so I had to canoe off and cook at other places along the river to save money. This turned out to be a real blessing as I met a few very friendly locals who let me hang out and cook at their places. The third night I went over to the Hotelito Perdido, located on another little tributary, Rio Lampara. This was a small bungalow style hotel with really laid back owners who had no problem with my penny pinching habits.

Outside of these two hotels there is nothing but small mayan settlements, so I would spend most of my time that I wasnt activelly travelling or sleeping rowing slowly down the rivers, surrounded by dense jungle and little mayan shacks. In this area everyone uses canoes, so the river banks are full of little tunnels and shortcuts you can paddle through. On these slow paddles I was able to see a lot of wildlife as well, such as toucans, otters, lineated woodpeckers, hummingbirds, and a myriad of other birds I couldnt identify. It also brought me to a waterfall, a hot springs, and a cave along the river.

After three nights I decided to continue the journey. I still had about 15 miles to Rio Dulce, and this section included the 10 mile long El Golfete region, which is wider and gets some significant waves. I came to the conclusion that it would be better to not try and cross this section, just spending a night up in a small village in the Biotopo Chocon Machacas (a nature preserve) and then returning back to Livingston, but sometimes things dont work out quite according to the plan.


After paddling for about 4 hours I realized I had passed the river that led to the Biotopo by a couple of miles, and I could already see the waves picking up as a storm approached from the south. My canoe began to take on a bit of water with each wave, and I realized I was in the most remote section of the journey, with no houses for several miles in each direction. I weighed my options and decided it would be better to try and camp out on the riverbank, and start again in the calm morning waters, than to try and row back, risking a potentially dangerous capsize. The jungle around the river is very dense, and there is little actual land, mostly just intertwined root systems. After a bit of seaching a found a small plot between two trees and set up my hammock. There were thunderstorms all around me, but barely a rain drop fell on my hammock. I was feeling pretty good about the situation until about 1am when I heard water right underneath me. I realized the river level had been increasing, and if it raised another 2 inches my piece of land would be submerged. I prepared my things for an emegency evacuation, but decided to hold out and see if the river would recede. I marked the water level with my machete, and after about an hour I could see that it was starting to back off. I then slept for about 2 hours, woke up as soon as possible at 430am, and started rowing for Rio Dulce. 7 hours later I arrived with a sore butt and blistered hands, but also a big smile and a nice tan.



The canoe trip was an amazing experience and really the best way to experience the river. I learned a few things I would do differently, but I can easily see another paddle journey in my future.

Now I think it is finally time to get out of Guatemala. Today I hope to head down into Honduras and start moving south. I have to be in Cartagena, Colombia by August 11th to meet up with Viviana and then the actual South America adventure begins.