Wow, writing twitter length entries is difficult (see an attempt below). 140 characters, really?
In Leon, Nic. No exit from El Salv. on fri, tried to X via dirt road in the north, guys in camo w/mach guns said no-go, locals only. Camped in creepy place. Blew ->Honduras, only stpd at wendys. 2 border Xings - scammers. Flat tire in nic went into the night, crowd gathered, drunks fought, i skedaddled. (thats 306, over double! Ok, forget all the rules I said from last post.)
I´m in Leon, Nicaragua staying at a hostel called Via Via. On Friday, I tried to cross from El Salvador into Honduras via a less traveled dirt road toward the north east of the country near the town of Marcala - guys in camo with machine guns (El Salvador Military) said no-go; only citizens from Honduras or El Salvador could cross. I saw a girl getting taken off a bus coming down from the other direction- they were sending her back to Honduras. I camped at creepy Hotel Arizona, just a few miles from the border, still on the dirt road. They had a monkey tied up as mascot and no guests. They gave me this private camp ground spot across the road from the hotel. It was a nice setup I suppose but the complete lack of guests coupled with the monkey was a bit much.
The next morning, bright and early, I rolled to the border at Amatillo that I had been warned about, and after what felt like hundreds of photocopies and plenty of bad noise I was in Honduras. My only stop in Honduras was at the Wendy's. I know that sounds lame, but I've been eating tortillas and beans for almost a month and I needed a damn frosty. It was like an oasis in there; A/C, wifi, unlocked bathrooms- I could have spent the whole day. The next border crossing into Nicaragua was up in the mountains and a little more calm compared to Amatillo. There were still scammers every step of the way and you end up having to ride away from angry people that want your money.
I was riding into Nicaragua and thinking that I could make it to Leon before dark - it was about 3pm at the time. I had just made the turn off the Pan American Hwy (nic 1) for
the road to Leon (nic 26). The surroundings abruptly changed from canopied city roads
and diesel bus fog, to crisp green fields of wheat. I was on the right track, this
was confirmed, everything felt great. All of a sudden the back end of the bike felt
like a springy mess, like my suspension was all out of whack. It was a flat, my first ever
on a moto. My spirits still weren't dashed; I’d planned for this, so I hopped to it. A
kid pulled off to help me very early on. I propped the bike on a stick which does work reasonably
well. Then another dude showed up on a moto. He seemed like he’d had a few, but he
was helpful and he really put his back into tearing apart the bead to get it back on the rim.
When we tried to pump it up it wouldn’t work and you could tell the tube wasn’t aligned
by the way the valve was cockeyed. He said he’d take the wheel back to his shop and get
it all pumped up and done right. We bungied it to the back of his bike and off he went.
I waited with the kid… and night fell. A little before dark the mechanic’s brother rolled
by on a bike with three other guys and he was really drunk. He was up in my face and
shook my hand about a hundred times.
The rest is hazy. We got the tire back and the better drunk brother handed me a bill for
200 cordobas, like 10 bucks. I gave him the money and he made gestures like he
wanted to share it with the kid, but the kid wouldn’t accept it (I'd already slipped him
$5 while we were waiting). The drunk brother was mad, I'm not sure about what exactly, and there was a lot of yelling. Then a brawl ensued. The drunk brother was leading it and I think he was fighting with the guys he rolled up with. They were slugging the hell out of eachother. I just heard the thunking blows and I would glance from the bike with my headlamp to see a bunch of shirtless dudes wrestling in the street. I got the tire back on double fast and got out of there. I stayed at the kid´s place in the town nearby.
During the early morning ride to Leon I thought to myself, I wonder how many almost identical occurrences like that happened across the world that night (tire change, crowd gathers, drunks fight, cops come break it up)? I mean if roughly 70,000 died yesterday - could our figure for roadside drunken fight be in the millions? Why not?
I ramble. See.
