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On the road in Guatemala

sfau — Mon, 1 Nov 2010 03:58:00 GMT

MONDAY, 1 NOVEMBER 2010

Hello Guatemala

After a really good 10 nights in San Ignacio it was time to leave the town and the country of Belize and go and say hello to Guatemala.

I left the hotel just after 8am and cycled 30 metres down the road to the café. I had an extra large “breakfast of champions” and as the hour approached 9am I put my crash helmet on and started cycling to the border. 10 minutes later I was off the bike as the ¾ mile climb out of town was to steep to do this early! At the top I was back on the saddle and the rolling countryside was pleasant and the tarmac was smooth.

Just over an hour later I reached the border town of Benque and had a long and lazy rehydration stop...there was no rush. Leaving the town behind the border wasn't far away and once the small climb was conquered I free wheeled to passport control.

The formalities were just that and the Belizean exit tax was 3 times more than the fee for the Guatemala visa...sometimes that's just the way it is!

Once I was officially in Guatemala I crossed the river into the border town of Melchor and found a hotel on the main highway at the top of the hill. It only cost Q150 a night (there are 12 of those to £1) and it seemed nice enough. As soon as I had checked in the 1st thing I did was walk across the road to the convenience store attached to the petrol station. The only down side to hanging out in Belize is a complete lack of marlboro cigarettes....I had missed them so much!!!

From here its about 100kms to Flores, which might be to far for me right now (in the last 52 days I have spent 7 days on the bike covering a massive 230 miles) and I also have no idea what the terrain is like. However 40 miles down the road on the north-east shore of lake Petan is the small village of El Remate which has many hotels....so I have a choice.

After a relaxing nights sleep I was on the road just after 7am and going out of town it was smooth and flat but I had an idea that it would soon be changing....and sure enough it did! I was passing through woodland and grazing pastures as the road meandered up, down and around the rolling countryside and an hour into the day I had my 1^st “damn I really am an unfit bastard” climb. It was short but the 1^stsection was way too steep for me, so I got off the bike and walked it! Back on the saddle I managed the downhill section with ease and carried on.

Another hour passed and the 2^nd climb presented itself. It was only about 1 mile in length but it was done sitting on the saddle....yippee!

By 10:30 I was half way there and so I had a long relaxing stop and enjoyed the very cold bottles of coke.

Carrying on the road continued to go up and down but as I was heading towards a lake I thought that at some point the road would head downhill. At the crest of each steep little rise I told myself “that's the last one it's downhill all the way from here” and after saying that countless times it turned out to be true......but only for about 1km, then it stayed flat.

Turning right onto the Tikal road I cruised the few miles to the village of El Remate on the north-east shore of lake Petan, I quickly found out that there was no ATM but the place I decided to stay at took visa....which is why I was staying there because my wallet was lacking in Quetzales. It costs Q205 a night which includes either breakfast or dinner and the room is nice with a bench and hammock outside in the shade. The large garden is well maintained and it also has great views of the lake and the sunsets here are fabulous.

On Thursday , after spending a full day in the hammock, I was back on the road to Flores. There were two roads to the small island town, one was south for 35kms and the other went around the lake and was 10 miles longer....I chose the latter!

The morning was overcast with low grey clouds blocking out the warmth of the sun and it was a chilly 22oc, it felt so good! Leaving the hotel with a small gift of a carved wooden toucan from the owner I turned left and headed around the lake. Two corners and 800m later the tarmac ran out and I wouldn't being seeing it again for another 15 miles.

The dirt road was bouncy, full of potholes and lots of sharp pointy fist sized rocks poking up through the mud and gravel. At least the road was quiet so that when I was weaving my way all across the road I didn't have to worry about traffic. Several times along the road it pitched skyward at such an angle that even if it had been tarmacked I would of struggled. The fact that the road resembled a washed out river course meant that I was off the bike pushing its heavy weight up the road whilst becoming weaker with every footfall.

There were several small villages along the road and I came to the conclusion that a gringo on a bike was definitely a curious sight to behold.

Finally after 3.5 hours of sweat and toil I turned a corner and there before me was sweet beautiful tarmac! Stopping at roadside shop for a well earned long rest, I was sucking down my 2^nd ice cold gaterorade when I became the unwitting goal of a game that the gang of small kids had just invented called “poke the gringo” :)

Back on the saddle there was a steep downhill blast to the village of San Jose before a longer climb up to and through the village of San Andres. Cresting the rise I stopped pedalling and enjoyed the 3 mile free wheel to the river. There is nothing better than sitting on the bike with stationary pedals as the speedo hits 30mph.

Crossing the river it was about 7 miles to Flores along a flat road with just a hint of a tail wind

On the lake shore opposite the island is the town of Santa Elena where you will find not a single signpost to let you know which way it is to Flores but I went with the flow and guessed correctly when it was time to turn left. I crossed the causeway and found a gringo hotel on the edge of town (it only takes 10 minutes to walk across the town and therefore the island) that charged Q50 a night for an okay room (after Belize I think it's time to reduce my hotel bills).

I had only cycled 32 miles today but I was wiped out. However the bar downstairs is open till midnight so I should be able to recover.

In the morning it was overcast and cold enough for me to wear my fleece....happy days are here again!!!! After a lazy breakfast I was sitting on the terrace with a great view of the lake when it stared to rain....damn, it's like being back in England!

Come Monday morning this old dog is about to learn a new trick

The next day was Saturday and after having lunch in the Café Yaxha (these are the guys that took my money for next weeks Spanish lessons) the German owner mentioned that the local football team was playing in the afternoon and would I like to go...hell yeah! Jumping out of the tuk tuk with about 15 minutes to go before kick off we all found a place in the stand and waited. The team play in the 2^nd division (think Slough Town quality) and the small pitch was surrounded by a 10ft high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire whilst a small contingent of soldiers lurked in the shade. Personally I thought it was a slight overkill...

With 10 minutes to go to half time the home team were 3-0 up and the opposition were suddenly down to 10 men after a really bad “studs up” challenge ended in a straight red card. Now the chain link fence made sense....In the 2^nd half the home team were taking it easy but with less than 10 minutes left to go, 2 quick goals by the away side woke them up. They managed to “hang on” for the win.

Sunday morning found me having breakfast at café Yaxha before going on a full days tour to a couple of Mayan sites. Both of them were on the road to Belize so it was a case of deja a vu. The 1^st site was called La Blanca and it was only about 10kms from the border. It was different to any other ancient site I've been to because the archaeologist only started their excavations here six years ago and are still on site today. New discoveries are being made everyday, like the skeleton they found yesterday. Our guide loved his job (although he never called it that!) and his enthusiasm was infectious.

After a slow bimble around the site lunch was provided by one of the local families. They take it in turns throughout the week to feed the staff working on the site and the tourists that come and visit. Then it was back in the minibus heading away from the border towards the next site. This gave me the chance to stick my head out of the window, like every dog seems to do, as the minibus made its way up the climb that tortured me 6 days before....damn, its a lot easier with an engine!

Several miles down a dirt side road was the Mayan site of Yaxha. Its located on the shores of a lake and there are literally hundreds of buildings. Most of them are still tree covered mounds but the ones that they have excavated and restored (which costs a lot of money to do and then look after and guard) are pretty awesome.

Moving through the site with foxes, woodpeckers, turkeys, butterflies and howler monkeys for company (plus one or two mosquitoes) we walked along dappled sunlit paths from one temple or palace to another. A few of the taller un-restored “hills” had wooden steps snaking up their flanks, the views were fanwowtastic. However, the guide, who has been here before, saved the best till last.

Climbing up the wooden steps that went up the side of the large fully restored temple (but with I ain't going up those stone steps on the front) you finally got to the top and as you were getting your breath back the views took it away again....

Right now it's Tuesday of Martes as the Spanish speakers call it....and my head hurts! (why didn't the British Empire rule over what is now called Latin America, it would make life a lot easier) It's my 2^nd day of learning Spanish and this old dog is struggling with a new trick. Thankfully my teacher has the patience of a saint. However...for some reason I've had a complete brain freeze with two words. The 1^st word is the Spanish for bicycle and the 2^nd is for the number 40. Now it could be a complete coincidence but.....

Now its 21:30 and I'm in La Cueva bar (its the one below the hotel) sitting on a barstool banging my head against the bar hoping it will help get my head around “ser” “estar” and things that are close, near and far away..........…....Its now the early evening on Monday 15^th of November and today I started my second week of trying to learn Spanish, I am a glutton for punishment. I've also moved from my hotel to a room at the school. It's a lot quieter (there is no bar below me and no gringo backpackers nosily moving around) and I have a nice shady courtyard to relax in. I'll be here in Flores for another week before moving on. Having looked at two different routes I have come to the conclusion that the route that goes into the mountains via the city of Coban is one that I would not be able to manage purely on the bike. The climbs are long, which isn't the problem but the gradients are just that little to steep for me right now. As I don't feel like going on a bus any time soon it looks like I'll be staying in the lowlands as I head towards the Rio Dulce and then the Honduras border, where there is no way around the mountains on the road to the town of Copan.

The café: www.cafeyaxha.com and the school: www.flores-spanish.com

I almost forgot to mention the fact that I did finally get around to going to Tikal

WEDNESDAY, 24 NOVEMBER 2010

bugger....not again!

Wednesday 24^th of November

So, this looks like this could be the end...once again I stop turning the pedals before I want to. The last time it was down to the threat posed by packs of feral dogs in Turkey. This time its down to a particular bit of my body letting the side down.......Damn you right knee!!!!

Which is surprising really because I thought that if did happen it would have been my left knee (given the fact that all it does is creak) or my ankle or possibly even my arse! I guess that it could just be old age or maybe when I “landed” my paraglider last year I damaged it without realising, I mean I was in quite a bit of pain at the time.

As to what has gone wrong...when I load my knee there is pain directly behind the kneecap and along the sides of the knee. Not a huge amount of pain but enough to make me go “mmm”. So as you can imagine cycling up a hill is going to increase the problem (walking up and down the temples in Tikal didn't help much either) and the knee will only get worse. The last thing I want to happen is for it to suffer a catastrophic failure halfway up a mountain in the middle of nowhere. (and then have to return to England for surgery and months of rehabilitation because I have really gone off sofas). It could happen 1000 miles from now, maybe 500 miles or even on the second climb of the 1^st day back on the road

Now I could carry on with the bike, taking it easy by using a bus to travel up all the gradients and only cycling along the easier “flatter sections” but have you looked at a topographical map of Central America recently!

Right now I am still in Flores and I was planning to go out on the bike tomorrow for a easy 20 miles just to finally make up my mind. However I don't think it is absolutely necessary because earlier today after seeing the local “bone man” for treatment I walked into the centre of Flores. This meant walking up an short but slightly steep incline for about 50m. When I reached the top my knee was telling me all I needed to know.

Now comes the swearing.......for fuck's sake what a cunt my knee fucking truly is. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. God damn motherfucking knee why the fuck did this have to happen. What a bastard, what a complete and utter fucking bastard! Fuck you knee!

Thursday the 25^th of November.

This morning I went out on the bike for what could be the last time. I headed towards the town of San Andreas because I knew the road. The 1^st 8 miles were flat and easy and it allowed me to get nicely warmed up before I crossed the river. Once over the river the road started to go uphill for about 4 miles to the town of San Andreas. I was thinking that by the time I reached the town I would have my answer, well it turns out that I got my answer after about 1 mile.

I sat down at the side of the road and said to myself “oh well it was fun while it lasted”. Even with an unladen bike my knee didn't want to cope with the strain. The ride back into Flores was a slow affair, I wasn't in a rush and this was “THE LAST RIDE”.

With time to think I came up with a cunning plan for South America starting next spring!

Mind you it could be worse, I mean, I could just be reading this whilst clock watching on a Friday afternoon at work....Man, that would really be depressing!

A few days before all this happened I was having my usual breakfast in the Cool Beans café when I wondered where Alain was. I thought that maybe he would be nearing the Guatemalan border soon. After a short while of trying to remember his website (http://les3ameriques.canalblog.com) I saw that his latest entry was from San Ignacio! An hour after sending him an email I got a reply. He was actually in Flores!

It was cool to see him again (and once again laugh at the amount of gear he was carrying) and a few days later Christmas came early for Alain. A lot of my gear isn't worth shipping back to England as the resale value is to low and the shipping costs are high, so Alain got his hands on 4 pannier bags (his were held together with duck tape) and several other bits and bobs. He was a very happy chap!

As for me it's now Sunday (the 28th) and I never thought that it would be this difficult to get my hands on a large cardboard box

WEDNESDAY, 1 DECEMBER 2010

At least my arse was happy!

On Wednesday the 1^st of December after spending 26 days or so in Flores it was time to leave.

With an overpriced ruck-sac on my back, a small day bag in my left hand and a “cardboard box” covered in duct tape weighing in at over 20 kilos in my right hand I walked from where I was staying to the tour company offices and waited for the minibus. Thankfully it was only about 200m but it was far enough for my right hand to start to hate me!

The minibus turned up and by the time all the gringos had been picked up it was certainly full! Thankfully I had a window seat so I could at least have “the wind in my face” as the bus travelled towards the mountain town of Coban.

The 1^st half of the journey was along a flat road with a dodgy river crossing on a makeshift ferry at the town of Sayaxche at the mid point. About an hour later the mountains appeared and the road started to twist and turn uphill. Some of the gradients were steep enough that if I had been on my bike, I would of struggled to push the bike up them, let alone cycle!

As we continued the temperature dropped and the rain drizzled down. The bus stopped in the small town of Chisec for a fag break and the only part of my body that was happy was my arse! Everything else was demanding to be stretched. Whilst I was standing around enjoying the view and the sweet taste of a full fat marlboro I felt a soft touch against my lower arm. Turns out a couple of young kids were “fascinated” by my hairy arms....

Finally after 6-7 hours on the road I reached Coban and it was raining. This was bad news for the cardboard box! 50 metres from the bus park was a business hotel (it was also the nearest) so I thought “damn the expense” it will have to do. Turns out it was super cheap, Q110 a night, en-suite room with cable TV, a huge bed and free wifi....bargain!

I spent two nights in Coban, it may of stopped raining at some point but if it did I was probably watching TV.

On Friday the 3^rd of December I got onto another “tourist minibus” and spent several shitty hours on the road to Antigua. We passed through Guatemala city, which was nice because now I can say I've been there (its a shithole of a place...think certain parts of south London!). I got to Antigua just before 5pm and got a room in the Ummagumma hostel. For Q50 a night I have a room with 4 walls, a ceiling and a floor but with no windows...which isn't a problem for me. I also have the joy of a shared bathroom and a somewhat run-down looking rooftop bar where the local “herb” was on display later on in the evening. It also has free WiFi which is a bonus.

After a few hours of chilling out I decided that as it was a Friday night I would go and hang out in the local Irish bar....er...no! It's closed down, so instead I went for a bimble along cobbled streets and passed painted houses. Eventually I found myself in a bar called “Reds” and it was an okay place till I discovered how much they were charging for a beer (Q22 for a bottle is a little overpriced). So I headed back to the rooftop bar at the hostel where the beer is just as cold but is a more reasonable Q15 a bottle.

I have no idea how long I will be staying here but on Monday I'll be spending thousands of Quetzales in the local DHL office to send my bike back to England.

WEDNESDAY, 19 JANUARY 2011

Malin's Moo

On the 19^th of January my friend from England, whose name is Malin, arrived in Guatemala for a 3 and a ½ week holiday.

I thought I'd let her write a guest blog....so here it is

Dods trott landade jag efter mycket om och men I Guatemala city. Som tur hade jag nagon som vantade pa mig att kora mig till ett hotell I narheten, dar hann jag inte mer an att checka in och ta en snabb dusch sen somnade jag. Klockan var bara 22.30 men for mig var det 04.30 och jag hade inte sovit mycket pa planen.

Morgonen dar pa tog jag en shuttle buss till Antigua dar jag skulle mota upp med Andrew, en kille som jag jobbat med ett par ar tidigare. Jag hade blivit tillsagd att inbefinna mig vid fontanen vid parken vid kyrkan klockan 12 pa dan. Jag var lite tidig men efter ett par minuter sa kom Andrew gaende med den obligatoriska coca colan in handen.

Vi tillbrigade de narmaste dagarna I Antigua, vandrade kullerstens gatorna, sag alla de farg glada husen och kikade pa marknaden. Det ar en mycket mysigt litet stalle och spanska skolorna ar overallt. Olen ar ocksa den dyraste med 25 kronor for en flaska. Men sa ar det ett turist stalle.

Jag passade pa att klattra upp en av manga aktiva vulkaner, vilket var ganska haftigt. Vi fick grilla marshmallows over ett hal I maken dar man kunde se lavan flyta under. En av killarna I gruppen hade tagit med sig en picknick av pizza och hamburgare som han glatt varmde over lavan.

Efter ett par dagar tog vi en buss ner till Panajachel vid sjon Atilian och darifran en bat till San Marcos. Byn ar en av de mindre runt on och det fanns bara fyra gator som gjorde upp en kvadrat I junglen. Vi bodde I ett hotell som hade anvant mycket glas och plast I byggnaden och satt inklamt I junglen vid en stor klippa. Mycket snyggt. San Marcos ar hippi stallet nummer ett och pa flera stallen erbjods det yoga, massage och andra hollistiska kurser. Klart man hade en massage, det var ju halften av priset hemma. Vi hittade ett cafe dar de hade nagra valpar, sa dar var jag tvungen att ata ett par ganger. Maten var ocksa god.

Men vi kunde ju inte stanna pa ett sa litet stalle under en langre tid aven om de hade mycket bekvama hang mattor. Sa vi akte tillbaka till Antigua dar forhoppnings vis Andrews pass hade dykt upp efter tre veckor I Guatemala city. Han var tvungen att forlanga sitt visum och istallet for att gora det sjalv gjorde en konsult det at honom. Till det dubbla priset.

Det hade kommit.

Jag stannade bara en natt och tidigt pa morgonen efter tog jag en lang buss fard upp till Flores I norra Guatemala. Eftersom Andrew redan hade varit dar stannade han kvar ett par dar I Antigua. Vi skulle motas upp I Rio Dulce efter ett par dar.

Resan upp tog mer an nio timmar, lite langre an vanligt da vi upptackte att det var en idiotisk cykel tavling uppe I bergen. Bussen jag akte med kunde inte alltid kora om cyklisterna I de kurviga vagarna. Nar den val hade gjort det sa stanna den, antingen for att slappa av eller pa nagon. Under den korta tiden vi stog pa vagkanten sa hann ju cyklisterna kora om och sa borjade det om igen..

Ja, jag satt inte pa nagon forsta klass buss utan en andra klass, typ vanlig landsvags trafik buss. Bara med flera stop som inte var utmarkta, man vifta med handen nar man ville pa och bad att ga av nar man ville.

Val framme sa delade en kanadensisk tjej och jag pa en tuk tuk till ett hostel, dar jag bodde I tva dagar. Hittills hade vadret varit helt ok for mig som tycker om det kallare klimatet. Men jag hade blivit varnad for Flores, hett och med hog luftfuktighet. Mitt absolut hat vader. Det forsta jag gjorde var att kopa ett ordentligt mygg medel. Bor man sa nara junglen kan det behovas med tanke pa att myggen har bar pa antingen malaria eller dengue febern. Den tar tyvarr inte pa alla sand flugor jag blivit biten av. Andrew tycker att jag ska rakna dem men sa lang tid har jag inte da jag aker hem pa lordag. Det ar nu onsdag.

Dagen efter akte jag upp till Maya ruinerna I Tikal. Det var en av anledningarna jag akte till Guatemala I forsta hand och jag blev inte besviken. Gick omkring I flera timmar och forundrades hur I hela friden det kunde glommas bort for att 900 ar senare nagon spanjor springa pa det igen. Jag var slut av allt gaende sa pa kvallen hade jag en tidig kvall.

Den kanadensiska tjejen hade rekommenderat ett stalle mitt I mellan Flores och Rio Dulce dar jag stannade en natt. Mycket lugnt och trevligt och med valdigt god mat. Jag tog mig ut pa en liten tva timmars tur pa en hast under dan och blev skont av svalkad nar jag hoppade I deras naturliga sjo nar jag kom tillbaka.

Nasta dag var det jag som stod vid vag kanten och vifta med handen och ville pa en buss. Det tog 45 minuter I solen innan en kom. Jag har inte blivit ak sjuk pa flera ar men av nagon anledning blev jag det denna dag. Tva timmar senare var det mycket skont att stiga av och hitta hotellet dar Andrew hade spenderat en dag eller tva. Han satt I baren, konstigt nog hade han gjort det sedan han kom, och lekte med sina foton pa hans lilla roda laptop. Jag hittade ett rum pa ett hotell intill, det ar inte att rekommendera da det var en nisse som sprang pa natten och knacka pa dorrarna pa vardera sida om mitt rum. Sov inte mycket den natten. Det var ocksa otroligt varmt och kvavt.

Rio Dulce har inte mycket att komma med om man inte hittar nagonstans att bo utmed sjon. Annars ar det bara ett stalle for amerikaner som lagger upp sina batar dar under hurrikan sasongen I karibien. Sa efter frukosten dan efter tog vi en tre timmar bat fard utmed floden som ledde ut till karibiska havet och byn Livingston. Baten tog oss forbi ett fastning och ett par fagel oar som luktade skit men aven genom jungel omraden som var jatte fina.

Val I Livingston, som heller inte har mycket att komma med, stannade vi I fyra dagar. Bodde pa ett typiskt backpackers stalle som var uppbyggt I junglen med rustiska tra byggnader och dar som overallt I Guatemala hade hundar som sprang vilt. Vi fick aven se hundar som parade sig, jag som sett det ett antal ganger tog ingen storre notis om det men alla andra stod och gapa och skratta och aven kastade vatten pa dem sa att de skulle sara pa sig. Nar jag forsokte forklara att det var normalt att “fastna” och att de kunde sta sa I upp till 45 minuter tittade de bara konstigt pa mig. Jag gick da och at frukost som bestod av goda pannkakor med farsk frukt, museli och honung. Det hade jag varje dag vi var dar.

En dag akte vi och kolla pa nagra vattenfall, ja det skulle varit annu battre om det hade varit vatten I dem men det hade inte regnat nog for att fylla dem. De var fina anda och vi gick I flod badden och det lilla vatten som fanns, da det var lattare att ga dar an pa stigen bredvid. Efter det tog baten oss till en mycket vit strand och lang grunt varmt vatten. Det var helt underbart att bara kunna ga ut och slappa I vattnet, flyta omkring och ha det bra. Ja anda tills nagra I gruppen blev stugna av maneter, da gick folk upp och satte sig pa stranden. Vid 15.30 gick baten hem och sen pa kvallen var det fest. Men det ar det ju varje kvall nar man bor pa ett backpackers. Pa de flesta stallen I Guatemala gar allt man ater och dricker pa en tab som man sedan betalar nar man gar. Efter fyra dar blev den taben ganska stor. Aven om man forsokte att dricka det mesta under happy hour da ol och cuba libre bara var 10Q, mindre an 10kr. Annars var den 15Q, lite mer an 10 kr. De serverade aven middag pa detta stalle och oftast var det nagot som kom direkt ifran havet, som jatte kraftor marinerade I vitlok och vitt vin. Mycket gott!

Pa mandagen var det dags att packa ryggsacken igen for att ta oss till Copan Ruinas I Honduras och annu fler Maya ruiner. Farden dit vill jag nog bara glomma bort. Forst var det en halvtimma med bat som var helt ok, sen en snabb taxi tur till bussen. Den satt vi pa I fyra timmar, byte till en annan buss som vi satt pa I en halvtimme. I Chiquimula strackte vi pa benen och Andrew hade ett par cigaretter. Hoppade pa en buss till gransen som inte tog oss till gransen utan till nagon liten by mittemellan. Dar forsokte vi hitta en buss som tog oss till gransen och nar vi fragade efter dem fick vi bara till svar, varfor tog ni inte en direkt buss? Ja det tror jag de sa, ingen av oss pratar ju mycket spanska. Men en buss till och vi var antligen vid gransen. Pass kontroll och stampling utav passet gick fort och vi knallade over till Honduras. 10 minuter senare och vi var avslappta I Copan Ruinas och hittade ett hotell ganska snabbt. Efter en mycket kall dusch var man som en manniska igen, det var ocksa I tid for happy hour och tva for en drinkar.

Sa kom anledningen varfor Honduras kom in I bilden, Maya ruinerna strax utanfor byn. Det gar en trevlig liten promenad vag ut till ruinerna fran byn som tog en knapp halvtimma att ga. Sedan spenderade vi ett par timmar ibland dem. De ar mindre utspridda an Tikal var och darfor gick det snabbare att ga runt dem, men minst lika imponerande som Tikal. Speciellt den hieroglyfiska trappan som de tackte over pa 80-talet for att vadret inte skulle forstora den annu mer.

Ar nu inne pa den sista dagen med Andrew, imorgon bitti aker jag tillbaka till Antigua I Guatemala och han fortsatter pa sin lilla semester som han har haft I nu over tre ar. Idag skiver jag detta och han planerar sin resa for de nasta fyra veckorna. Langre an sa tanker han inte. Han ar ju pa semester.

Mina tva sista dar I Antigua kommer jag inte att gora mycket, kanske kopa nagot typiskt Guatemaliskt att ta hem, eller inte.

Jag har ialla fall haft en mycket bra resa aven om den har varit alldelles for kort. Jag har sett massor, hangt I manga skona hangmattor, atit for mycket god mat, druckit manga ol, cuba libres aven en jagermiester och aven traffat en och en annan trevlig manniska.

Tack Andrew

Um...did I mention that she is Swedish??

and now it's my turn

After several weeks of general laziness and laid back anti social behaviour it was time to get back on the road. However as my friend from England, whose name is Malin, had turned up I would have to talk more than usual.

Following a chilled out weekend in Antigua with several beers, one jaggermester shot downed (which Malin completely forgot she ordered!!!!!) and one volcano climbed, not be me I hasten to add, we left the apartment for the last time and got onto a minibus to Panajachel on the shores of Lake Atitlan. It had been several weeks since I had last been “a tourist” and it felt good. It was cool to get back “to work” on a Monday morning.

After few hours of twisty mountain roads still showing the scars from last years landslides the bus plunged down a mountain for the last time and 70 odd tight corners later we arrived at the small town of Panajachel. Following the usual routine of “I've just got off the bus” (fag, arse massage and getting my ankle to un-stiffen) the hotel on the corner was the one that won and it was only 50Q pppn.

Dumping the bags in the room we bimbled down gringo main street. A late lunch and a “damn fine cup of Joe” set the mood as we meandered along to the lake. The afternoon was overcast and misty but the sun was peaking out from behind a cloud, it's light shimmering as it scampered across the the waters.

By 5pm we were back at the hotel sitting out on the terrace, the dark clouds slowing moving across the wretched sky seemed to slow down as they reached the ridge and then they hanged around like a group of teenagers on a Friday night.

The next morning we were up early, mainly due to the fact that the main bus stop was opposite the hotel and the 1^stloud bus of the day was at 5am. Surprisingly I walked the 1000m to the jetty where the launches left carrying passengers to all the small villages along the lake shore. We had a short wait for the next boat, which was long enough for a quick fag and then we boarded the boat and headed to the small village of San Marcos. A couple of minutes later Malin had finished counting the number of passengers. She pointed out that “according to the lonely planet guide book we shouldn't be on a boat with more than 14 passengers....” meanwhile back in the real world I was looking out across the water at the volcanoes on the other side of the lake.

60 minutes and several stops later we disembarked at the small village of San Marcos. This is a place where gullible fools come to waste their money....or it's a place of positive cosmic energy where you can tune into mother earth and expand your consciousness. I think it depends on how long and skanky your hair is! And yes Malin decided on this place!

The village itself is split into two parts. The locals live up on the slopes and the gringos reside on the flatter lake shore area. There are two stone flagged pathways leading away from the lake inter crossed by meandering dirt paths. I have to admit it is a chilled out place, the serenity only ruined by the occasional sound of some crusty long haired moron playing the bongos....badly.

I've been on the road now for about 8 months since leaving Las Vegas and when I sat down in the Fe restaurant in the evening I was a very happy chappy! Their menu had two pages devoted to curries!!! The 1st night I had the Kashmir, tonight the biryani and tomorrow.....who knows possibly the vindaloo!

Yesterday I did go and have a massage, mostly on my ankle. It seems that whilst I was hanging out in Antigua I really should of carried on with my stretching exercises. We also went for a stroll around the small rocky headland. There were great views of the lake and volcanoes and on the other side a large wooden platform which people could leap from before splashing down into the cool lake waters some 30 foot below. Mind you they would have to open the health and safety gate first.

Today (Thursday 27^th) is our last day and we're going to hang out in the town of San Pedro, a 10 minute boat ride away.....once Malin has stopped playing with the puppies in Blue Lill's café that is.

In the morning I was up early, it took Malin a little longer (she has a problem with snoring). As we walked down to the jetty a boat going our way appeared, which was nice! The ride back to Panajachel was flat and calm, the conditions of the lake change as the day progresses with the wind increasing and the swell growing.

Back on dry land we had a few hours to kill before the minibus ride back to Antigua. Cue coffee and croissants and free WiFi. By the end of my 3^rd mug of coffee I was wide awake and according to Malin I had a very bad addiction problem (which is weird because I always thought I had three!)

By mid afternoon we were back in Antigua, Malin was getting on a bus at 4am the following morning to Flores. I was going to have a long lie in because I've already been to Flores and couldn't be arsed to go again. The next morning I woke up with a hangover...brilliant!!

On Sunday morning I left Antigua for the last time and spent several hours sitting in a bus as it travelled to Rio Dulce.

Rio Dulce, or sweet river in English, lies in the lowlands of Guatemala on the shores of Lake Izabal near the Caribbean coast. As the bus covered the miles the mountains receded and the air once again became hot, heavy and humid. Arriving in the early evening I got a room at Bruno's on the water's edge. It was slightly over priced but it did have cable TV and a terrace with a hammock. The breeze coming from the coast was great at blowing away the heat and it was good not to have to wear a jumper in the evening.

Monday morning came around and it found me hungry. Hello fried eggs, bacon, “country potatoes” and of course....black coffee. The rest of the day was spent....come on work it out.....that's right I “have a hammock!”

A little while later the sky turned from blue to black....yep it was night time.

Tuesday afternoon slowly came around and Malin turned up from her visit to Flores and Tikal. The next morning we got on a boat for “the tour” down the Rio Dulce to the small town of Livingstone. At £10pp. It's expensive but as the boat company have exclusive rights they can charge what they like. Mind you the views were gorgeous!

A few hours later we arrived at Livingstone, the small town is home to communities of Garifunas, Indians, Chinese, local Mayans and of course gringo backpackers. Even before we were off the boat the touts were plying their trade. We ended up staying at the Casa de la Iguana, a “party hostel” on the edge of town. It's run by an English bloke called Rusty but most of the work is done by his 3 little helpers.

I stayed there for 5 nights and my bar bill was Q1400 (or about £115). A beer or Cuba libre only costs Q15 and the shots were Q10....so I think you can work out what we were all doing!!!

We did manage to go on a day trip, travelling across the warm waters of the Caribbean sea to the Seven Altars waterfalls. I have to admit it would have been better to go there during the wet season but the large pool of cool water at the end of the forest trail was most enjoyable. After that we headed to Playa Blanca for the rest of the day. I got stung by a jellyfish!!

Following a great weekend of football (well apart from the Chelsea V Liverpool game) on Monday the 7^th of February we got on the 9am boat to Puerto Barrios. Eight and a half hours and five minibuses later we arrived in the Honduran town of Copan, got beds at Café ViaVia and enjoyed the 2 x 1 happy hour Cuba Libres.

Today, we went to visit the Mayan ruins of Copan, which is the reason for coming here in the 1^st place. I liked what I saw.

The small town of Copan is like a little tiny Antigua but with better cobblestones!

Tomorrow is mine and Malin's last day of hanging out together. On Thursday she catches a bus back to Antigua for a day of shopping before flying back to England and going back to work on Monday morning.....it's a tragedy!!!!

and as for me.....

on the road in Belize

sfau — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 07:13:00 GMT

On dirt roads heading slowly south

13 Sep 2010

I left Chetumal on Monday 13th of September and very lazily cycled the 7 miles to the border. The day before I was online trying to work out if there was a departure tax when leaving Mexico by land, some websites said yes, others said no.

When I reached the border crossing I was unsure where the passport control was but a middle aged man in a small concrete hut shouted out “passport senior” and I had my answer. Turns out there is a departure tax and it was set at 200 pesos. By some strange coincidence that was the exact amount of money I had in 1 and 2 pesos coins.....handy that!

With an exit stamp in my passport I crossed the Hondo river and entered Belize. One mile down the road was the immigration and passport control office. After 4 ½ months of not really understanding a word of what people were saying it was nice to be in a country that had the good fortune to have been conquered by a decent empire....everyone speaks English!!!

With a 30 day visa (no charge) in my passport I got back on the bike and cycled the 10 miles to Corozal, a not to impressive small town by the sea. However it did have a good local bar and for the 1st time in who knows how long I stood at the bar, smoked fags, drunk lots of cold beer and talked a load of bollocks with the locals (it's a guy thing!)

After two nights in a slight dive of a guest house I was up early and eager to get back on the road. Sadly, Kevin was in town and as he was a tropical storm with winds gusting up to 50mph I decided to spend an extra night!

Finally on Thursday I got back on the bike and headed out of town on the main road. After a mile or so I turned left onto a dirt road and spent the next 5 hours cycling the 30 miles to the small fishing village of Sarteneja. The day was hot but the road was flat, although very bumpy in places. The traffic levels were great, 8 cars in 5 hours.....so I had the road to myself, which was good because I was meandering all over it weaving around the potholes and following the shade. After crossing two rivers by means of a hand cranked ferry and seeing my 1st Belizean crocodile and drinking several litres of water I finally arrived at my destination.

Its called “backpackers paradise” (http://backpackers.bluegreenbelize.com/ ) and do you know what, it is. Me being me, I went for the en suite cabana, unpacked my bags and then checked out the hammocks! Later on, before dinner and the 1st cold beer of the evening I discovered whilst locking up my bike that I had a puncture. This time it was a proper puncture that didn't require the inner tube being plunged into a sink full of water in order to find out where the hole was. Bizarrely I was quite happy about it, after 3500 miles I finally got my 1st “proper puncture”!

I'm not to sure how long I'll be staying here but one thing is for sure it will be longer than the 3 days I had planned to.....well it turns out that I spent 6 nights. There were books to read, hammocks to lie in and food to eat. There was also the Shipstern nature reserve nearby, which was mostly waterlogged and full of mosquitoes.

However all good things must come to an end and so on Wednesday 22nd I got back on the saddle and made my way to the town of Orange Walk 40 miles away. The gravel road was mostly smooth but damn was it hot! I found a hotel that had what I needed.....A/C and relaxed!

The next day I was going on a day trip upriver to the Mayan ruins of Lamanai. The boat was small and the river was quiet, the trees along the banks reflecting in the still cool waters of the New River. It took about 2 hours to travel the 30 odd miles and along the way the keen eyes of the guide/boat driver spotted several crocodiles, lizards and near the Mennonite settlement of Shipyard a couple of spider monkeys, which came onto the boat and helped themselves to someone's bananas.
When we got to Lamanai we had an early lunch before walking around the site. Out of the 700 odd buildings here only about 10% have been explored and only 6 are open to the public, the rest have yet to be restored. Have to say it was a top place although the climb up and down the largest temple was testing.

When I got back to the hotel the lass behind the counter told me that hurricane Matthew would be dropping by in 68 hours....looks like I'm here for the weekend! On Friday afternoon the weather forecast had changed and Matthew had been downgraded to a tropical storm, so only 40mph winds then.....

After a very lazy long weekend of rain and wind I got back on the bike on Monday the 27th and cycled the 56 miles to Belize city. The road was flat with lots of straight bits but I found it hard work to get my speed into double figures! Several hours later I was about 5 miles from the city, sitting down on the river bank having a rest whilst the sweat slowly trickled down my face. I was flexing my knee listening to the sound of it creaking when the voice inside my head whispered “the knee ain't going to get you to Panama” and for the 1st time I found myself agreeing with it!

I finally got into Belize city and found a hotel 30 seconds before the thunderstorm broke. When it was over I went and got a ticket for the next morning's boat ride to Caye Caulker.

On a sand bar

12 Oct 2010

It's Tuesday the 12th of October and I've been here on Caye Caulker now for two weeks.

I was planning on catching the boat back to the mainland today but when I was in the sports bar last night watching the Monday night football game (American style) I was unable to come up with a good reason why. So I did what I always do in situations like this....tossed a coin! The coin came up heads three times in a row and this morning I did the same thing and once again it came up heads three times in a row, you don't ignore these things!!

The “tag line” for Caye Caulker is “Go Slow” and I've almost come to a complete stop! That's not to say that I haven't done anything, because I have. However if you don't count drinking beer, eating food, lounging in a hammock or the sofa then all I've done is gone diving for three days.

The 1st day's diving was in the Hol Can marine park which is about a 20 minute boat ride from the island. It was okay, saw some rays, a shark and a turtle. The second day's diving was on the “house reef” just a mile or so off shore and it was enjoyable. The third day's diving was a 3 tank dive, starting with the famous blue hole! The viz wasn't that great and at a depth of 42m the guides didn't let us stay down for that long. Probably because most people diving were novices with less than 10 dives, so for me with over 300 dives I was disappointed with the bottom time. Mind you the dive itself was a disappointment! The next dive was on lighthouse reef and that was good and following a long surface interval on Half Moon Caye we dived the aquarium, which was the best dive out of the 7 I've done here. Loads of fish, good looking coral and great viz!

um...that's it....I need to do stuff to be able to write about it.

mind you when I finally get back on the road the 1st day on the saddle is going to hurt big time!!!!

and then there is the knee to worry about, I've gotten used to the creaking sound but now it has started to “pop” as well....

Heading to the border

19 Oct 2010

It had to happen...after 21 days I finally managed to prise my fat arse off the stool inside the Barrier Reef Sports Bar and place it onto the water taxi that took me off Caye Caulker and planted me in the shithole that is Belize city.

I spent two nights in the city because there were clothes to wash and buy and a visa needed to be extended but finally on Thursday 21st I got back on the bike. It had been 24 days since I last spent a day in the saddle and the 50 odd miles to Belmopan, the capital of Belize was going to hurt....

The road was mostly flat, bumpy and boring. It was also damn hot, I mean really hot! However after several hours of slow cycling and lots of stops for rehydration and shade worshipping I made it to the outskirts of the capital. That was far enough for me and the 1st hotel I came across was the one I was going to be staying in. As it turns out it was expensive but it did have a super quiet and very efficient a/c unit and a fully loaded wide-screen TV....so it wasn't all bad.

The next day it was only 23 miles to the small town of San Ignacio and after a small lie in I was back on the road for about 4 hours. The road spent most of the time going up and over gentle rises and small hills which completely wore me out....3 weeks of doing nothing ruins the fitness! I arrived in the town just after midday and got a hotel that had A/C and TV which also happened to be opposite a bar...strange that! I had an early night “in” enjoying the coolness of the A/C and the firmness of the mattress on top of the large bed.

The next day it was Saturday and after watching two football matches and one game of rugby I finally got out of bed and went to get something to eat. It was then that I found out that a hurricane was heading across the sea to Belize. Looks like I got off the island at the right time and I was in the best place in Belize to ride out the storm. The hurricane was due to hit the country on Sunday afternoon and until then I chilled out and relaxed.

On Sunday afternoon the rain started, a gentle drizzle cooling down the heat of the day. The old saying “of the calm before the storm” is absolutely correct. By the evening the wind had picked up and at just after 19:30 the power went out! Unlike areas near the coast (i.e. Belize city) the effects of the hurricane were just a few trees blown over and a few sections of corrugated iron blown off a couple of roofs. The next morning nothing was open and there nothing do to except lie in bed and wonder when the power would becoming back on....the answer was 8pm!

On Tuesday I was booked on to a caving trip but due to the hurricane's rain laden downpour they were all shut! Therefore I walked to the outside of town to the nearby Mayan ruins of Cahal Pech, perched on the top of a tree covered hill. I was the only tourist there and I had the place to myself. It was a small site but I enjoyed the ambience.

The following morning some of the caves had reopened. The waters had returned to their normal levels and the work gangs had cleared the paths of the fallen trees allowing the tourists to return. There were 3 of us on the day trip, myself, an Swiss bloke called Lars and a crazy Dutch girl (is there any other kind?) mysteriously called Ms Q. After a drive of about 60 minutes sitting in the back of a pick-up like a red-neck we arrived in the car park and picked up our tubes! An easy 45 minute walk found us at the edge of a narrow river, its milky blue waters were cool and refreshing. All of us got onto the tubes, some with more difficulty than others (yes Ms Q I'm talking about you!) and then linked up in a row, feet under the armpits of the one in front and headed off downstream into the underworld.

The 1st cave we tubed through was about 800m long, our headlamps reflecting off the water and the quartz in the rock ceiling as we floated along in the darkness. Then we re-emerged into the sunlight and up ahead was the next cave. As we came to the cave mouth the water turned white and all off us went “butts up” and we navigated the rapids. This cave was about a mile long with a few twists and turns and even a waterfall half way through near a opening that allowed the sunlight into the huge cavern.

Eventually we saw the sunlight of the entrance and left the cave and the darkness behind. We carried on floating downstream and the rays of the Belizean sun warmed us up chasing the cold chill of the caves away.

The following day Lars and Ms Q went to the ATM whilst I had a nice long lie in. The day after I went to the ATM but due to the overnight rain the tour guide abandoned the trip before we even got to the 2nd river crossing. The water level was rising very fast, 3 inches within 5-10 minutes.

The next day was Saturday and once again I made out like a red-neck and headed to the ATM (or the Actun Tunichil Muknal cave to give it its full name). The water levels had gone back done to their usual level and after about 60 minutes walk through the jungle, crossing the river 3 times we made it to the entrance of the cave. The ATM cave is a “wet cave” and to gain access to the cave you have to swim about 20 metres from the cave mouth to the 1st bit of “land” or rock to stand on. After that it was a case of climbing, squeezing, wading and swimming upstream further into the cave system. The water was ice cold and amazingly refreshing, well for me at least!

At one point the guide told us all to turn off the head lights and placing one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of us we waded deeper into the cave in complete darkness. After what seemed like an aeon the guide told us to turn our lights back on and the views were fantastic. (go and check out the pictures!) We carried on over small waterfalls and through narrow gaps before we got to the turn off and the climb up into the “dry area” of the cave. The river itself carried on for another 3 miles before disappearing into the depths.

Climbing up about 20 meters we stopped and after removing our shoes we carried on in our socks. The cave was viewed as an entrance to the underworld by the Mayan and their priests and here in the dry area were offerings and sacrifices. The artefacts have been left exactly where they were found and the “holy offerings” contained in clay pots were “on show” just how a museum would do. There were 3 chambers to “discover” and the second one was a huge cavern about half the size of a football pitch.

Sadly all good things must come to an end and after about 2 ½ hours in the cave we retraced our steps leaving the underworld behind and emerged reborn into the sunlight and the land of the living. Sitting down in the nearby “picnic area” I was enjoying a long lazy cigarette when I discovered that I was right on top of a solider ant trail. I found this out when they started to bite me!

In the evening I hanged out with Ms Q and bored her with stories of my travels (she's only on a 3 week holiday) and then faced up to the fact that like her I to would soon be leaving San Ignacio.

Today is Sunday 31st of October and tomorrow its the start of a new month and for me a new country. From San Ignacio it's 11 miles to the Belize/Guatamala border, so it should be an easy day!

on the road in mexico

sfau — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 06:59:00 GMT

Baja California: the north

28 Apr 2010

I spent three nights in Tecate, relaxing during the day and drinking beer in the bar in the evening. Time well spent if you ask me! Finally on the 1st of May I got back on the bike and headed south on highway 3 over the mountains towards the town of Ensenada just over 80 miles away.

I wasn't expecting to make it there in one day and I didn't. The day was spent slowly going uphill for up to 90 minutes before blasting downhill for 10-20 minutes again and again and again. I actually quite enjoyed it! The uphill bits weren't too steep and the scenery was fantastic. By just after midday I have covered 40 miles so I was halfway there, the rest of the day's mileage was a bonus!

By 3 in the afternoon I was only 20miles from Ensenada and 15 miles from the coast. Taking it easy I ended up in the small “town” of El Sauzel right on the coast of the pacific ocean 90 minutes later. I found a “cheap motel” (if you can call £22 pn cheap) with a great shower, free wifi and super firm bed :)

the next day I woke early (why?) and turned on the TV to find that the Liverpool V Chelsea match was live on fox sports...fantastic!!!!

I finally left the motel after 10am and travelled the 5 miles to Ensenada. After a quick bike around the tourist area I found a good hotel for only £15 pn. I'll be here for a few days before heading south once again.

I ended up spending 3 nights in this little American orientated tourist town, I didn't do that much. I checked out the local museum (small but interesting), the local Starbucks (where else am I going to get an ice cold frappaccino?) and the local cinema (iron man 2 is cool!). Yes, there were also bars but man was this town quiet! Why sit in a bar where the staff outnumber the clients by a ratio of 2:1 when instead I could watch TV lying on a bed with a fag in my mouth and a beer in my hand...I know I'm a classy kind of guy. I forgot to mention all the shops selling tourist tat...well now I have!

Come Wednesday (the 5th) morning I was up at 6am and on the road an hour later. It was 52 miles to the small town of St Vincent and after 10 miles the dual carriageway and the hard shoulder disappeared. It was once again a day of crossing valleys, the downhill bits were nice, the uphill bits not so nice.

A fully loaded touring bike is at its most unstable at low speeds (i.e. going uphill) and when an Arctic lorry is passing you by less than 2 feet...well lets just say it's fun and leave it at that.

By 13:30 I still had 10 miles to go and damn it was hot, even though I am wearing a “head sock” the salt from my sweat was stinging my eyes. When you are going uphill the last thing you want to do is look up!

Another hour later and I was in St Vincent, a small dusty town straddling the highway. I passed one motel that was shut, another that was open but with no one around however the 3rd time was lucky.

It is now 5pm and the heat of the day is fading, a cooling breeze is helping with that and the sound of the traffic 100m away can't block out the birdsong in the trees that are keeping me in the shade.

The following day after an uneventful ride I arrived in the small town of San Quintin in the early afternoon. I checked into a nice motel next door to a bar (strange that) and after showering walked the two mile round trip to the nearest ATM. Since leaving Tecate I haven't used my cane at all and I was getting used to “walking normally”. By the time I got back to the room my ankle was aching. Looks like a tendon on the outside of my foot was playing up. As it was the 1st time since I broke it that the outside of the ankle was causing me problems it gave some cause for concern.

The next day and my ankle was still sore and stiff so it was time for some bed rest and massage therapy. In the end I stayed in San Quintin for 3 nights, which was one more than planned and on Sunday the 9th of 'May I got back on the bike.

As it was a Sunday the road was quiet and for the 1st 30 miles it was flat! Mountains to my left and the pacific ocean to my right and for the 1st time since Las Vegas....a tailwind!!!! The end stop of the day was the small town of El Rosario which was only about 40 miles from San Quintin. After 3 hours I only had 10 miles left to go. However 8 of those miles were uphill but on the bright side the last two were downhill...fast!

By midday I had arrived and was in a hotel, next door to the famous Mama Esponzia restaurant, which if you are into off road racing (like the Baja 1000) you'll know all about it! My ankle seemed to be okay, which as tomorrow is going to be spent going uphill, is a good thing.

Monday 10th of May

What a day I've just had!

I left El Rosario just before 7am and at midday, 5 hours later, I had only managed to cover 30 miles. There was many steep ascents to climb and in 1st gear I average 3.5 mph. At one point I was almost at the top of a ridge when a police car came screaming down as fast as possible, ten minutes later I found out why. Going downhill I passed an overturned lorry on the apex of a tight left hand bend, its trailer smashed open discarding its cargo down the hillside. I guess the police car was being used as an ambulance!!!

A few miles later I was going downhill into a large and wide valley and by 2pm I had covered another 20 miles, making it 50 in total. Passing through a town (if you can call 2 houses and a shed a town) I realised that I would have to carry on in the saddle.

The nearest town with a hotel was Catavina, 26 miles away. By now my ankle was hurting and my right knee was starting to feel the strain. It was too hot and to early to camp by the side of the road so I just carried across the desert landscape.

By 3pm I was only 12 miles away and the road was crossing a boulder strewn cactus forest. The road was mostly flat and when it wasn't it was downhill...which was really lucky!

An hour later I had reached the town of Catavina. There are about 20 houses, a restaurant/shop and only one hotel. As soon as I saw the hotel I knew it would be costing me more than 250 pesos a night. I was right, it's 1100 pesos ( or about £60 ) but its not like I would go anywhere else!

Its now just gone 6pm and I'm sitting in the courtyard garden next to the swimming pool wondering if I am the only guest here but also if the restaurant is open?

I really wasn't planing on spending 9.5 hours on the road, with 8 of those hours in the saddle covering nearly 80 miles today. As for tomorrow...well it's about 70 miles to the next town or if I feel as knackered as I do right now I'll be on a shade lounger near the pool reading a book and trying not to think about how much this is costing me!

The next day

Shade lounger won!

I don't think that was a surprise to anyone :)

the following day I was on the road just before 7am and after 30 miles or so the steep climbs were left behind and I was travelling across easy valleys. As the day wore on the miles slipped past. By 5pm I had covered 85 miles and decided to call it a day. Being miles from nowhere I pitch my tent at the side of the road, cooked dinner and relaxed as the sun went down.

At dawn I was up, chilled and relaxed and after a coffee and the 1st use of my folding trowel I was on my way. There were only 62 miles that needed to be covered today (I know!!! I think 62 miles isn't that much any more...???) and as such I took it easy. The last 30 miles were along a dead straight road, so it was quite boring but by 3pm I had reached the town of Guerrero Negro. This is one of the places to come for whale watching (but right now its out of season) but apart from that there really isn't much else.

I'll be here for two nights, clothes to wash and legs to rest before heading across the desert to Santa Rosalia nearly 140 miles away. So that should only take a couple of days then :)

right now it is Thursday the 13th of May and I have been on the road for one month. I've spent 18 days cycling and have so far covered just over 900 miles. Not too bad for a beer swilling, chain smoking fat bloke!

(Turns out I spent 3 nights here. I was online on Friday afternoon when I realised that the FA cup final was being played the next day. Kick off was 7am local time, so instead of an early night I had beer and in the morning watched Chelsea win!!)

Baja California: the south

16 May 2010

Sunday 16th of May:

I rolled out of Guerrero Negro just before 7am and as the road was flat and straight within 3 hours I had travelled 40 miles. As I was planning to cycle 90 miles across the Vizcaino desert today, it put a grin on my face :)

At nearly 3pm I was watching the odometer and as all the nines turned to zeros a big smile erupted across my face. I stopped, lit a full fat marlboro to celebrate and let out a big sigh!! I had just cycled my 1st 1000 miles, I wonder how many more there will be?

Back on the bike I only had 8 miles to go to the small town of San Ignacio. The town itself is about 2 miles from the main highway and as I turned off I came across a motel next to a restaurant. After biking 90 miles already I really couldn't be arsed to cycle a further two!

The following day I “only” had 46 miles to cover, across the desert to the sea of Cortez and the town of Santa Rosalia. A few miles out of the town there was a short but steep bitch of a climb and after 30 minutes I had reached the top, sweating like a pig in a butchers shop!!! After yesterday's epic ride my legs were only at about 60% and so I was cruising along the road at 8-9 mph as opposed to the 13-15mph of yesterday.

About 3 hours later I climbed over a ridge and was met with a beautiful view...a wide valley that lead all the way to the coast. Its undulating road was easy to ride and I just chilled out and enjoyed the views. Towards the end of the wide valley I climbed a small ridge and could see the Sea! Then the road plunged down into a narrow valley, which if I had been coming the other way would of made me cry at the gradient. I kid you not, I would of struggled to even push the bike the final kilometre, it must have been about 25%! So glad I was going downhill!!!!!!

8 kilometres later I was by the sea, the main road following the coast line the few miles to the town of Santa Rosalia. The town is set back from the sea and the harbour in a small canyon. It has two main streets, one goes uphill and other one down. The streets are narrow, lined by wooden houses with small verandas. The town dates back to the late 1800's and was built by a French mining company and the bakery has been here since 1901! I'll be here for a few days before heading south along the coast.

Wednesday 19th of May

After a couple of nights it was time to move on. The next main town is Loreto nearly 120 miles away but as I am feeling lazy and the sun is feeling hot I decided to take 3 days to cover the distance!!

About 40 miles down the road is the small town of Mulege and that was where I was heading today. Just outside of Santa Rosalia I passed a road side sign which was displaying the temperature...25oc at 07:30! The road was easy and I was enjoying the views when after cresting a small rise I saw my doppelgänger! His name was Andrew too but he was from Norway and had been on the road for nearly 10 months travelling north from southern Argentina heading to Vancouver and a flight back home. We chatted for about an hour before we parted, leaving him to fix his puncture.

By midday I was in Mulege and after looking around the small town I found a cheap hotel on the highway. So, it's a ten minute walk into the centre of town for tonight's meal.

A few hours later it had just gone 5pm and so I got my carcass off the bed and walked into town and into Scott's bar. I was enjoying a cold beer whilst being slightly concerned that the pub's dog had decided that my bar stool was the one to sit under when I looked at the clock. It was an hour fast...or was it??? Turns out the southern state of Baja California is in fact one ahead of the north...doh!!! That explains a few things......

Tomorrow, well that's just more of the same!

The next day I was up at dawn and on the road at my usual time. It was only 74kms to my target town and after a few climbs the road went along the jagged coast line. The views were great but the inclines were not. After a few hours I left the coast behind and headed once again into the desert. A long slow climb followed under the hot unrelenting sun till finally I crested a ridge and saw a wide long valley in front of me.

It was only 5kms to the town and when I got there I was surprised (?) to see only 2houses and desert...bugger! I carried on along the road and 8 miles later I came across a truck stop. After spending 30 minutes in the shade rehydrating I decided to push on to the town of Loreto which was only 50kms away. By now it was nearing 3pm and so I was looking at doing a 12 hour day.

As the miles slipped by my speed slowly dropped and the small climb 10km outside of town was a complete bitch! Finally at around 17:30 I was on the outskirts of Loreto and by 6pm I was sitting outside a hotel with a couple of ice cold drinks that didn't stay around for long!

The following morning after a great night's sleep (thank you super quiet a/c unit)I wandered around the tourist part of this town. Loreto is situated along a wide bay with a marine park off the coast. There is diving to be had here but I just don't think that paying 100USD to see some fish swimming around is worth it. As tomorrow is Saturday (as is the champions league final) it looks like I'll be hanging out here for the weekend :)

Sunday 23rd of May

After being kept awake till the wee small hours by a Mariachi band playing at an outdoor party across the road, my alarm clock woke me up. An hour later I was once again back on highway 1 heading south.

The road meandered along near the sea for about 18 miles before turning right and heading uphill into the mountains. The following 2 ½ hours were fun...not! The road was steep and curvy and I was in 1st gear going along at 3 ½ miles per hour. After a few false summits (I liked those) I finally made it to the top of the pass. It was at that point that Mr Headwind joined me and despite several loud vocal requests to leave he stayed with me for the rest of the day!

The downhill bit was far to short and at the bottom was a rest stop...so I did! 60 minutes and 2 litres of gatorade later I was back on the road. It had just gone 1pm and after travelling 60kms I still had another 60kms to the next town.

Heading along the valley the dried up river bed went downhill but the road went uphill (WHY!!!) A long slow climb into a headwind followed and by 3pm I was on top of the ridge with 40kms of straight road ahead of me. Due to the headwind I decided to camp by the side of the road and an hour later I was setting up camp next to an electrical pylon some 50 metres from the road.

Whilst pitching my tent I walked back to the peg bag for some more pegs when a gust of wind lifted up my tent and tumbled it along the dry stream bed nearby. Luckily a barb wire fence stopped the tent's brief flirtation with freedom. Sadly 3 of my tent pegs made good their escape. So tonight I'll be sleeping like a cowboy, under the stars.

After dinner I was pondering why I had back in England decided that the 320 gram weight of my hammock was too much weight to bring with me, because if I had had it I would have been able to put it up using the frame of the pylon uprights!!

The next day I was up at dawn and whilst smoking my last cigarette (note to self: next time when camping by the side of the road make sure you have more fags with you than you want to smoke) I stumbled across the missing tent pegs...hurrah!!! A short time later I was on the road to Ciudad Constitucion which was only 60kms away. Halfway along the road I turned left and was now enjoying a tailwind whilst travelling along a flat straight dual carriageway.

I arrived at the town just before midday and after wandering around for a while (the town has a population of 50,000 people so it's quite a large place) found an over priced hotel (but it does have cable) near the highway. It is only 210kms or 126 miles to La Paz...so I should be there sometime Wednesday afternoon.

The next two days on the road were easy and rather uneventful with boringly repetitive scenery!!

I arrived in La Paz just before 1pm on Wednesday 26th of May and got a room in a Hostel, quickly followed by me going to the shops for a ice cold beer :)

It's been 44 days since I left Las Vegas. I've spent 27 days “in the saddle” travelling one thousand three hundred and fourteen miles.......

I arrived in La Paz just before 1pm on Wednesday 26th of May and got a room in a Hostel, quickly followed by me going to the shops for a ice cold beer :)

It's been 44 days since I left Las Vegas. I've spent 27 days “in the saddle” travelling one thousand three hundred and fourteen miles.......

I spent 4 nights in La Paz, spending all the time not doing much at all :) Finally on the afternoon of Sunday 30th of May I cycled the 11 miles to the ferry. The following morning I arrived at the port of Mazatlan on the pacific mainland coast of Mexico. I'll be here for two nights before heading south along the coast to somewhere south of Acapulco.

Along the coast to Zihuatanejo

31 May 2010

Monday 31st of May 2010

The ferry docked in the port of Mazatlan at around 8am. A slow cycle ride took me into the centre of the “old town” and a cheap hotel. Not getting much sleep on the ferry I hit the bed but not before I had turned on the fan.

Come the afternoon, come the shopping trip. I needed a few more T shirts as two of mine are of no use to me on the bike (they take far to long to dry out and they have given me a major case of jogger's nipple...so enough was enough). After a walk around I was able to buy only one T shirt in my size but it is better than nothing. Even more importantly I was able to buy a couple of pairs of cycle gloves as the ones I brought from Halfords before I left England had completely worn out. The gloves stop your hands from sliding of the handle bars...which is really handy!

In the early evening I went for a walk around the area. The town has much more of a big city hustle and bustle feel to it than La Paz and the grid layout made for easy walking. I checked out the sunset sitting on the sea wall with the waves of the pacific gently crashing on the rocks several metres away. Later on I ended up in a small square in the middle of the Art and cultural district were there are several bars and restaurants.

I pigged out....big time!

The next day it was up early, I have no idea why? There were clothes to wash, food to buy and a route to plan. Two hours later all of that was complete, so cue rocking chair in the hotel courtyard!

As the afternoon turned towards the evening I decided to head back to one of the restaurants in the square but I thought I would take the long way there along the seafront. The views were great and by the time I was sitting down at the restaurant table the sun had almost set. The food was delicious and the beer cold!

Upon leaving the restaurant I found that I was completely unable to walk properly. The tendons in my ankle were taut and non flexible and the 10 minute walk of yesterday took me nearly 50 minutes today! I finally managed to hobble back to my room and as I went to sleep trying to find a comfortable position for my foot took a while.

The next morning I came to the quick conclusion that there was no way I would be getting on the bike. During the course of the day I massaged, stretched and slow walked my ankle back into something that was almost useful.

Finally on Thursday 3rd of June I got back on the bike. As it had been a week since I had turned the pedals (I'm not counting the two hours it took me to cycle the 11 miles from la paz to the ferry terminal) and I was definitely uncertain about my ankle I planned an easy 45 mile ride to the small town of El Rosario.

The 1st 24km were along a busy dual carriageway with a large hard shoulder and the going was flat and easy. After that I had a choice, go along the “free road” or the “toll road”. I chose the toll road because it had the hard shoulder and the free road didn't. Being on a bike meant I didn't have to pay at the toll booth and the road was by far the best road I have yet to cycle down. By 11:30 I had made it to the centre of El Rosario which itself was a few miles from the highway. After rehydrating, even though it was only midday and the next town was only 25km away I decided to find a hotel room.

The hotel was easy enough to find and at 120 pesos a night it was damn cheap.

The afternoon was spent in a rocking chair in the courtyard with occasional playtimes with the hotel dog...which was nice. In the evening I needed food and I ended up in a street restaurant in the centre of town. The host couldn't speak English and I really can't speak Spanish so I ended up just saying Si to whatever he said.

Throughout my 40 years on planet earth I had yet to eat prawns...that soon changed! It looked like I ordered a large glass bowl of fish broth packed with prawn tails with the odd bit of onion and celery chucked in for good measure. After 8 or 9 of those little buggers I decided that although the taste wasn't making me gag, I was concerned about possible food poisoning issues! Mind you at under £4 a bowl it was good value.

In the evening I was in was in bed by 9pm, listening to the fan whirr the warm air around.

The next morning I awoke before the alarm and looked at the time. Looks like I forgot to set the alarm because it was 07:30! I was on the road 30 minutes later and soon I was back on the toll road heading south. Several easy but slightly boring hours later I exited the highway and was making my way along the secondary road the 5kms to the town of Acaponeta and a hotel. 500 metres along the road I saw a motel....it was 2pm and as I wasn't planning on doing any sight seeing this afternoon I thought “sod it, this will do”. For the 1st time in 12 days I had a room with A/C (and a two channel TV) it was costing me 250 pesos but I needed it!!

The following day, after experiencing the effects of a time experiment I was on the road just after 6am. By midday I was in the town of Santiago Ixcuintla, hot and sweaty. After a quick cycle tour around the centre of town I found only one hotel. At 320 pesos a night it was expensive but it had A/C, cable TV and wifi....so not too bad a deal after all! In the evening following a pizza and chips meal I had a quiet night in.

looking at the map and the road ahead I came to the conclusion that as I wasn't in a rush (this isn't a race and there is no finish line) I would take it easy for 3 or 4 days on the road to Puerto Vallarta. Therefore the next day I rode the 30 miles to San Blas...talk about taking it easy!!!!

On the approach to the town I bumped into a fellow biker. Alain from Switzerland has been on the road for a few years and has so far covered 20000kms around north America. He is heading in a similar direction to me so I expect to see him somewhere on the road further south. We chatted for a while, comparing bikes, equipment and stories. If the truth be told I don't think he has heard of the word “ultralight”. He is basically carrying the same gear as me but he needs a trailer to get it all on. We came to the conclusion that his bike is around 30kg more than mine!

Leaving Alain to his lunch I headed into the centre of town, found a good value hotel (200 pesos per night with cable TV!) a few blocks from the main square and decided to have a siesta.

In the evening I was sitting outside a bar in the main square. My fingers were drumming a “what to do what to do what to do” beat on the table. By the end of the second beer I had my answer....lets have a lie in tomorrow!

I left San Blas and spent two days cycling the 100 odd miles to Puerto Vallarta, spending the night in the unremarkable out of season seaside town of Rincon de Guayabitos. The days were overcast and very muggy and there were lots of hours spent going uphill...slowly! However every time I went up hill my legs got just that little bit stronger, the rest of me got just that little bit fitter and the climbs got ever so slightly easier...but not by much :)

I arrived in Puerto Vallarta on the afternoon of Wednesday 9th of June, found a cheap but slightly run-down hotel in the central tourist area and relaxed! In the evening I realised that the world cup started in two days time...looks like I'm here for the weekend :)

I ended up watching the England V USA match in Harry's bar, the only English pub in Puerto Vallarta. It was packed out with a friendly rivalry between the opposing supporters. I won the “guess the time of the 1st goal” competition and the winnings paid for the my beers.

The bars here don't shut till 4am so I had late nights and lazy days.

I did look at going diving and I found a dive shop nearby that would do a days diving for 1000 pesos. I was warming to the idea till the guy mentioned that I would have to make my own way to the marina several kilometres away via a bus! So instead I spent 450 pesos on a 90 minute massage, the lass did a really good job on my ankle....so I guess I had a happy ending after all :)

I was all set to leave early Monday morning but my clothes were stuck in a launderette on Sunday afternoon and I wasn't able to get them till the following day...maybe mañana.

The next morning I was up early and ready to leave. Whilst carrying my bike down from my 3rd floor room I managed to slip on the stairs and jar my ankle in the process....of course it had to be my left ankle!!

On the road all was mostly okay, the road followed the coast up, down and around the headlands till after about 10 miles it headed inland and uphill. After 90 minutes I had travelled several miles and came to stop in a small village for a break. My ankle was stiff and sore and I was facing more uphill action for many miles to come. It was then I saw I hotel sign.........

In the morning after a long day of rest I was once again going uphill. After several hours the road started to go downhill and after a while it became flat! I spent the night in the small town of Tomatlan in a cheap hotel near the town square. The following day I was back on the road, sweating! The day was pretty much like the one that came before it, long uphill climbs followed by even more long uphill climbs. After 60 miles of this I was, to say the least, knackered. By now it was just after 3pm and I had had enough for the day. Stopping for a cold drink in a small village I realised after 10 minutes that I was standing in front of a hotel...doh!!! The next day it was about 60 miles to the seaside town of Manzanillo where I was planning to have a day of rest. The 1st 35 miles were uphill, then after the goddess of topography had answered my prayer I had 5 miles of downhill free-wheeling....yippee! After that it was an easy 20 mile ride along the flat coastal plain, if the strong headwind hadn't of been blowing!

Manzanillo is situated on a wide curving bay several miles long that is bisected by a small headland. I was making my way along the road when I saw a cheap hotel and decided that enough was enough. For 150 pesos I got a bed, a noisy fan, a toilet and a pipe in the wall that water comes out of. In the evening I was eating in a small restaurant a few 100 metres from my hotel. Halfway into the meal I looked around and saw a sign for the 2 star hotel next door. For only 50 pesos more I could of got A/C, cable TV and free wifi.....BUGGER!!!! Later on in the evening I found myself in a rock music bar, sitting on a stool overlooking the surf-able waves of the pacific ocean crashing on to the golden sands whilst a scarlet sunset slowly set. Sometimes life is good!

After a couple of nights I was once again up early and on the road, this time to the small town of Tecoman about 45 miles away. Once over the hill I was on the toll road going along by the ocean. Several Sunday morning cyclists passed by heading the other way, on their light weight racing machines....tossers :)
Arriving in the town of Tecoman I made my way to the town centre and after a quick cycle around found a cheap hotel near the main square and the church. The afternoon siesta was relaxing and the evening meal was devoured with relish. Following a few cold beers in a local bar I headed back to the hotel and was looking forward to a good nights sleep.

I was drifting off to the land of nod when a cockroach ran across my face! Once my impression of a very scared eight year girl in a pink frilly dress was over I turned on the light to see about 12 of the bastards running around on the floor...I didn't get much sleep that night! Come the morning I was up early and very eager to get the hell out of there. Unfortunately the lazy sloth like bastard that had the key to unlock the hotel entrance (and only fire escape too I might add) could not be found. 45 minutes later someone turned up to get into the hotel and get to work and after a phone call the sloth appeared...it then took him a further 10 minutes to remember where he had left the padlock key!

Finally I was on the road....it is 270 kilometres (or 160 miles) to Playa Azul so I had more than a few days of biking ahead of me, most of which would be along the coast on a winding road that rose and fell dramatically. After about 25 miles the road stopped being flat but I knew that it would be the case (sometimes google earth is a blessing, sometimes it's not) and started going uphill. Passing a small village right on the beach with several hotels (it was just a little bit too early to stop) I slowly made my way up the inclines. Coming around a corner I saw Alain resting by the side of the road! Neither of us were expecting to see one another this soon! We carried on to the next town and stopped for lunch and the last 20 minutes of Switzerland's loss to Chile in the world cup.

At this point I had cycled 40 miles and the next town with a hotel was 15 miles away mostly uphill. Luckily the small town where I was had a hotel, so that was good enough for me. Alain, had only covered about 10 miles so he decided to carry on...

The next day I was back on the road and once again going uphill, again and again and again! The downhill bits were long enough to dry the sweat from my face but that was it. Coming down one of the short descents I passed a small house where the world's fastest accelerating dog happened to live. Within a blink of an eye it had appeared from nowhere and was within feet of my back wheel. Bear in mind that I was doing 25mph at this point and I had to start pedalling to break his chase. The adrenalin made the next ascent easier than the last. By 14:30 the hot sun and the terrain had taken its toll, turning a corner I came across a small town and ended up spending the night on the beach under a ancient hut for free...but only because there wasn't a hotel!

Waking up with the dawn I was, after breakfast, on the road by 8am. Having covered 80 miles in the last two days I wasn't too sure what my energy levels would be. By 11am I had covered nearly 20 miles, I think I pushed hard too early! Sitting outside a shop I spent 30 minutes drinking 3 bottles of gatorade and a can of coke...yes I was that thirsty! One mile later I passed a small establishment right on the beach. It had a restaurant, RV parking and a few rooms. I paused for a few minutes then decided it was too early to stop and carried on up the road. 100 metres later I came to the conclusion that I was being a “fucking twat”. I turned the bike around and got myself a 200 peso room for the night. The rest of the day was spent in the hammock.....

In the morning I only had 100kms to Playa Azul to go....it took me two days, I mean what was the rush! The final day (Friday 25th of June) was mostly along flat roads...fantastic!!!! With less than 10 miles to go I watched 2000 miles appear on my odometer!

Arriving at Playa Azul I was disappointed to say the least....still, two days off the saddle is two days off the saddle!

After two days it was back on the bike and I had 80 odd miles to go to get to the seaside town of Zihuatanejo (and no I have no idea how to pronounce it!). So I decided to pedal 40 miles each day, turns out it was more like 60 miles the 1st day as that was where the hotels were! On the Monday (28th of June) I only had 20 miles to travel and I was glad of the fact...my ankle was feeling weak, once again!

I finally made it to Zihuatanejo and after a little tour around the main tourist area found a nice courtyard hotel. A long relax followed a hot shower and when I went to get off the bed a few hours later I found my ability to walk was greatly reduced!!!!

FUCK!

Looks like all the tendons in my ankle have gone on strike....I may be in this town for a while

What do you mean i'm not in central america yet

13 Jul 2010

After a week of stick walking in Zihuatanejo my ankle was making a slow but steady recovery. Then the world cup semi finals happened...and a few days after that, well it was the final! I ended up staying 14 nights in the place. I was planning on going diving between the semi final and the final but I woke up on the Wednesday morning with my right nostril completely blocked...bugger!!

I had a great time though, long lie ins in the morning, lazy breakfasts in the café across the road, pre siesta cold beers in the “fishing hole” corner bar (only 7 stools, all on the pavement) and in the evenings after dinner hanging out in “Zorro's sports bar” described in the guide book as “an interesting bar with a slightly dingy ambience and incipient alcoholics” so I fitted in quite well. I met up with one old gringo called Lenny who was heading south one of these days. His blog is really quite funny (www.adiosusa.net) but I'm still not sure if he means it to be!

However, all good things must come to an end and on Tuesday 13th I left town. The small climb out of the bay almost killed me....14 days of smoking and drinking has a price that has to be paid! Four hours and 20 miles later I came to the small town of Petalan, found a hotel and relaxed. Well I didn't want to stress my ankle out too much on the 1st day. The next day I was back on the road for 40 miles to the large village of San Luis De Loma, then it was 35 miles to the large boring town of Atoyac de Alvarez followed by a 55 mile ride into Acapulco. I only got caught in two downpours in the 4 days and it was nice cycling in the rain apart from all the spray when a lorry pulling a double trailer goes passed at 40 mph

In those 4 days on the road I think I took about 3 pictures, not because the was nothing to see because there was but because I was enjoying being on the road too much to want to stop!

Also on the 1st day I was going along happy as (this was obviously after I had recovered from the climb) when my super expensive sunglasses split in two, left my face and bounced down the road. Turns out the screw holding one of the lenses to the bridge had decided to leave....and then when I was about 20 miles from Acapulco I heard a loud “ping”, for once it wasn't my ankle but a spoke on the rear wheel had snapped in two

Arriving in Acapulco I was knackered. The last 6 miles into the town were uphill under the blazing hot afternoon sun and after spending the last 45 miles on flat roads it was a shock to my legs. I ended up in the Zocalo part of town standing in the shade next to the Oxxo shop rehydrating when someone grabbed me from behind and started to strangle me....I was just about to react violently when the bloke said “Hola Amigo”. I thought to myself, I know that voice. Turning around I found that I was correct...it was Alain! I was, to say the least, surprised to see him here. I would of thought he would have been many miles ahead of me after my two week break.

He was staying in a nearby hotel, so I joined him. For 120 pesos I have a room with A/C in Acapulco...fucking unbelievable!!!!!!! The only down side is that my room is on the 3rd floor and the staircase is narrow, on each flight of stairs I have to make a 3 point turn with the bike.

The next day myself and Alain both went to the bike shop. I needed a new spoke and my wheels balanced and Alain needed a new set of gears....again (he does this every 4 months or so, where as I never need too!). Chatting away as the mechanic worked it turns out that I am lucky with punctures. I was moaning about the fact that I had got a slow puncture the other day (it took 5 hours in the hotel room to go down) and I was upset because it was my 1st one of the trip. When Alain started in New York he got his 1st puncture 30 minutes after starting and then another two later on that day. When I mentioned that when I went from England to Turkey I got zero punctures, Alain started to shake my hand to try and rub off some of my good luck....he gets around 3 punctures a month.

On Tuesday, after Monday's rain aborted attempt I was once again back on the bike and heading south. Cursing around the bay in rush hour traffic was “interesting”. I have yet to learn the Spanish for “you're a ******** idiot” or “ Oi ****** ******* look next time” or “you ****”. I haven't had road rage for years!

Half an hour later the road stopped being flat and started to go uphill....it hurt, it really really really hurt!!!! Finally after an agonising 45 minute ride I reached the top, took a final look at the bay behind me and started to smile as I went down hill for several miles. The following 30 odd miles were flat along the coast before once again turning left and heading uphill.

I ended up in the small town of San Marcos, some 50 miles down the road from Acapulco. A cheap hotel with cable TV made the late afternoon a good one

Looking at the map and where all the towns were I decided to have an easy Wednesday and I ended up biking less than 30 miles to the small town of Cruz Grande...it took me less than 3 hours. In the evening I was having a cold beer in a small unassuming bar near my hotel when this big fat transvestite madam called Coco walked in. (S)he came up to me and started to talk, in english, and after about two minutes (S)he said “you do know I am a man right”....honestly how could anyone not know! A few beers and a chat later I paid my bar bill and was on my way out of the door when (S)he mentioned that her “friend” wanted to take me into the back room and suck my cock....???

…..back in my hotel room I watched an episode of “Bones” on TV and then went to sleep.

The next morning I was up watching the last of the rain petter out whilst having my breakfast and then I was on the road. Several hours later I had covered the 50 miles to the town of Ometepec, or so I thought! Turns out the town was a further 12kms up a side road (one day I will look at the map more closely) and as there was a hotel at the junction you can guess what I did.

As the following day was a Friday I decided to spend the weekend in the large town of Santiago Pinotepa Nacional which was about 55 miles down the road, or as it turned out 55 miles up the road. It was a long hot day which I only really started to enjoy when I was relaxing post shower in a A/C cold room watching CSI Miami. Turns out there was a fiesta going on at various times during the weekend and when I could drag myself away from my lovely cold room and my cable TV I went and had a look.

I was going to bugger off on Sunday morning but I realised that on Sunday the German F1 race was on, it was the last day of the Tour de France and Moto GP was coming from America....

Monday the 26th of July: I only just managed to leave my hotel room and get back on the bike.....damn that A/C was soooo good!!!!

Leaving the town behind I headed downhill for 3 miles, passing the military check point, the small pack of dogs that gave chase for an unsuccessful 100metres, across the river and then I spent the next 20 miles going uphill. On the brightside I got to go downhill once I finally got to the top 4 hours later......by 13:30 I had covered 70kms and was passing through the small town of Santa Rose de Lima. As I was now exactly halfway to Puerto Escondido (which was tomorrow's destination) and this one horse town had a hotel.........

In the morning I was up early and on the road by 7:30, the road was mostly flat and I was taking it easy. I arrived in Puerto Escondido in the early afternoon and after a few shocks gave up trying to find a cheap hotel and instead got a hotel on the main tourist road by the beach for 450 pesos a night! It didn't even have A/C but it did have cable, so it wasn't all bad? On Wednesday (the 28th) I celebrated 3 months in Mexico by going diving....finally!!!!! The visibility wasn't great and the water temperature 20m below the surface was a cool feeling 28oc. I don't think I will be able to dive in the English channel ever again! As for the wildlife, well I saw a few rock and stone fish, some lobsters and a couple of eels. On the surface it was turtle shagging season...

I was only planning to be here for 2 nights but I may hang around for an extra day and go for another couple of dives...well I stayed for another day and went diving again, the water was still tepid!

On Friday the 30th of July I got back on the saddle and left the town behind. I was heading to Zipolite around 45 miles away. The main road along the coast was great! The government is spending millions of pesos upgrading the road to a dual carriageway and for long sections the new road was finished but not yet open to the public. That meant I had the widest cycle path in the world! After 38 miles I left the main road behind and headed onto a minor road that looped along the coast. A few miles later I stopped in one of the small villages for a drink (this was a good thing) and then carried on. The road went uphill for about 1000m and after a 100 metres I realised that I just wasn't able to peddle up a 20% incline...by now it was the early afternoon and I was hot,sweaty and tired! After the 1st climb there were a further two more, each of them just as steep and ultimately walkable.

Finally I reached Zipolite, found a quiet hotel right on the beach and decided that this would be were I would be spending the weekend. Zipolite is a cool place to hang out and during the low season it was nice and quiet. The days were spent lounging in the beach restaurant reading a book, watching the surfer dudes get wiped out and occasionally watching a bikini bottom go by...and the evenings hanging in out in one the many bars and restaurants along the main street whilst bongo playing crusties annoyed me!

From Zipolite is was about 140 miles along a mountainous coast to the industrial port town of Salina Cruz...it took me 3 days. It was hard and sweaty work but enjoyable in a slightly masochistic way. Sadly on the second day my rear tyre started to de-laminate along the side wall and the resulting bulge made going downhill over 20mph way to wobbly...so I didn't even get to have the sweat on my face dry off....

Entering Salina Cruz I headed for the main square and then found a slightly run down motel near by. It had the two things I needed....cable TV and A/C. Later on in the early evening I went for a quick walk around the area and came across a Burger King...

the following day I spent the morning in a decent coffee shop adjacent to the central plaza, got my clothes washed and managed to get a new tyre that may even last a 1000 miles. The rest of the day...I did mention that the hotel room had A/C and cable TV!!!

Salina Cruz is at the northern end of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec and so that meant I had left North America behind and was now in Central America (which was funny because I thought that when I had crossed over the border into Mexico I was in Central America already)

over the hills and far away

06 Aug 2010

On Friday 6th of August I left Salina Cruz and the coast behind. The road was flat and straight but the wind was gusty and always in my face! It was only about 30 miles to the town of Juchitan and my legs, for some reason, were being very lazy so it took a while. I finally arrived at some point in the afternoon, got a hotel room and then chilled out.

The morning came and I got on the saddle and headed south out of town along the Pan American highway towards the small town of Zanatepec, 55 miles down the road. The conditions were the same as the day before except my legs weren't being lazy they were just really tired. As the day wore on, the heat and humidity increased. Also, yet again, another spoke went “ping” making it the 3rd one to go in the last 4 weeks...not so good especially now that I have a big fat mountain bike tyre on the rear wheel (for some reason my front wheel is fine)

With 5 miles to go I found myself in 6th gear on the flat whilst my body was getting ready to wave the white flag.......I arrived in the town and asked a local where the hotels were. It was only another 1000 metres along the highway. Halfway there the heavens opened and by the time I had covered the remaining 500 metres I was soaked to the skin.....but the hotel had A/C, which made me so happy.

15 miles down the road was the town of Tapanatepec and hopefully a bike mechanic. After a restful night I hoped my legs were feeling better.....erm....they weren't!! on the brightside out of the 3 bike shops in town, one of them was open on a Sunday. The hotel near the main square was good enough and the rest of the day was spent doing nothing at all. Tomorrow I have a mountain or two to climb and in this heat........

The following day I was on the road by 7am, cycling out of town under a clear blue sky. A mile down the road and it started to go uphill and I started to go down through the gears. Five kms and 45 minutes later I had reached the top of the hill and enjoyed the views and the small blast down the other side. From here on in, it was uphill for another 4.5 hours (and 18 miles). The road slowly twisted and turned its way up the side of the mountain and as the minutes passed the temperature increased. The 1st two hours were fine but after that the air I was breathing in was as hot as the air I was breathing out! The water I was carrying was now warm and there was no way to cool down until I got to the top of the climb. As the kilometres passed by the amount of time between stops diminished until it started to get ridiculous.

Finally I turned a corner and entered the small village of Riza de Oro, I was so happy! I rested and rehydrated for 45 minutes before getting back on the bike at midday ready to enjoy the downhill blast into the valley. Six hundred metres later the road stopped going downhill and started to go uphill once again....another 4 miles were spent going uphill before I finally crested the last rise and went downhill for real....it lasted for 2 miles....I was not happy!!!

The nearest hotel was in the town of Cintalapa which was still 30 miles away and the road whilst being quite straight was undulating with steep gradients. By 16:30 I had reached the town and the afternoon ride under a hot sun had really worn me out. It was one of the hardest days on the bike so far. I found a very nice hotel with A/C, cable TV, wifi and a balcony for smoking on. In the evening I went for a walk around the town, stopping for a few slices of pizza at one street stall followed by a couple of cheese burgers at another before finally finishing off a hot dog at one stall next to the hotel...yes I was quite hungry!

In the morning I woke up and turned on the TV....

On Wednesday the 11th I was back on the road. The city of Tuxtla was 50 miles down the road and I had two climbs along the way. The day was overcast and hazy and compared to most days it was cool. The 1st climb of the day was about 5 miles long and due to the weather I found it easy and most enjoyable. The second climb of the day took place just after midday and my energy levels were lower so it took a bit longer. Halfway up the heavens opened and the rain came down. For the 1st time in Mexico I put on my rain jacket! By the time I got to the top I was starting to get cold and going downhill in a thunder storm with water gushing down the road didn't get me any warmer! However, it was the 1st time I had been cold since I left England and I was actually enjoying it. Two minutes later I stopped enjoying it and really wanted to get warm again! Shortly after that I stopped under a bridge for half an hour as the rain continued to pour down. The storm was directly over my head and the brutal sounds of the thunder and lightening affected the primordial part of my brain with cowardly results. The rain finally eased off and I still had about 10 miles to go but as it was mostly downhill on a freshly laid dual carriageway it was most enjoyable. Arriving at the outskirts of the city it started to rain once again and the 3 lane road was half covered by a 2 to 3 inch stream of muddy water. Unable to see the potholes was a worry, dodging the insane minibus taxis was another matter! I saw a sign for a hotel, whilst it was expensive (£22.50 per night) it was nearby to a Oxxo shop, a steakhouse,dominoes pizzas and a subway restaurant....sweet!

When I got in the room I turned on the TV in time to catch the last 15 minutes of the 1st half of the England V Hungry match....good timing I thought! During half time I had a super hot shower and when the match was over I bimbled over to Subway's!

The next morning I had a nice lie in before going downhill for 12 miles to the small town of Chiapa de Corzo where you can catch a boat to ride up the 1000m deep Sumidero Canyon. It wasn't until I was crossing over the bridge at the entrance to the canyon that I remembered that I had been here before the last time I was in Mexico.

From this town it is 70kms or 45 miles to San Cristobal which is 1670m higher up in the sky. I'll mention here also that San Cristobal is in a valley, so the climb over the mountain is going to be a big one....looks like I may spend two nights here, just to give my legs a real good rest.

On Saturday 14th I left Chiapa behind and headed uphill across the valley to the side of the mountain. The early morning sun had yet to crest the ridge and so I started the climb in the cool shade. The road was easy and the climbing was enjoyable (but still hot and sweaty) and a few hours later I had reached the top and was now of the ridge of the mountain. Stopping to enjoy the views of the valley below me I turned on my gps to find that I had only climbed 600m. That meant I still had at least one kilometre still to go. The road went downhill for 500m and then once again went uphill.

So far I had covered about 14 miles and so still had another 30 or so to go.

By now I was under the hot sun and the climbing whilst not being super steep was still enough of a gradient for me to pedal at a somewhat slow 4.5mph. By midday I was almost out of water and starting to run low on energy as well. Thankfully I came across a small village that was only a few hundred metres off the main road. Stopping there for a break I managed to clean the only shop out of all their bottled water (3 x ½ litre bottles!) while at the same time I was able to give the locals something to stare at...

Back on the road and the gradient was starting to take its toll on my legs one kilometre at a time. Soon I didn't have to worry about the sun any more as I had reached cloud base and was now cycling in the clouds. Two hours later I was having a “thank **** for that” rest outside a roadside shop the clouds released their water and it rained heavily. After 30 minutes the rain eased off to a light drizzle and so I got back on the bike, now wearing my rain jacket and continued uphill.

Around 4pm my legs had decided that 3.2mph was as much as they could possibly mange and I wasn't really in a position to argue. The rest stops became more frequent and somewhat longer. Each time I got back on the bike it became harder to carry on but as I was in the middle of nowhere I didn't have much of a choice. About an hour later I entered the large village of Navenchauc and my legs were begging me to find a hotel...sadly there was none. Chatting to a local shop keeper he informed me that it was only 20 kms to San Cristobal, which I already knew but that there was only 3kms more uphill action till the road went downhill all the way into San Cristobal. Damn, that lifted my distraught and disheartened spirits.

Rehydrated and smiling I slowly climbed the 3kms and when I saw the microwave relay towers I was so happy (they are always at the highest point of the road). Once I passed them the road turned a corner and went downhill and at the very next corner I stopped at the side of the road, sat down and had a fag!

It was now 6pm and I had been on the road for 11 hours and had cycled 35 miles all of them uphill. My gps told me that I was 2450m above sea level (new personal record) and as I was at least 6m lower than the “summit” it meant that I had climbed 2000m in one day. Not bad for a fat, beer swilling, chain smoking lazy bloke!

Back on the bike, I was smiling as the road flowed smoothly from one bend to another downhill through the clouds and into the warm sunshine of an early evening. Two miles later I entered a small town and as I came around a bend in the road the smile left my face...the road started to go uphill!!!

YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!

After 500m my legs were waving the white flag and so I got off the bike and slowly walked the 2 miles up the hill, with my head bowed as I didn't have the energy to look up any more. When I finally reached the top it was 7pm and I was almost at the point of complete exhaustion.

Mind you the 5 mile descent to the city limits of San Cristobal was fantastic!!!!!

Arriving at the city limits I stopped outside an Oxxo shop, sat down with a can of coke in one hand a marlboro in the other and grinned and chuckled like a loon. (spending 12.5 hours on the road covering 45 miles of which 38 were uphill will do that to the sanest of men!)

By 20:30 I was showered, dressed and walking slowly to get something to eat and drink. By 10pm I was in bed....fast asleep.

The next day was a Sunday, so I had a long lie in but by 10:30 I was walking out of the hotel door in search of coffee. It was during my second cup of the black stuff that I realised what the date was. Turns out yesterday was the one year anniversary of my accident...what a way to "celebrate it"!

This is the 2nd time that I've been in this town, the 1st was back in 2004 and nothing much has changed.. Well there are more pretentious restaurants and lounge bars...so much for progress! My original plan was to stay here for a few weeks and learn some Spanish, however after looking at a calendar I found that I only have about 8 weeks left on my 180 day visa. So it looks like I'll be learning Spanish in Guatamala instead.

I ended up staying here for 6 nights which gave my legs 5 days of rest. There are many day trips you can make from here, I made zero! I did walk around the market, even buying myself a new wallet in the process. On my penultimate night I managed to find the local “Irish bar”, it had 2 X 1 drink offers and unlike every other bar in town you could smoke at the bar...damn it!! However all good things must come to an end and on Friday 9th I got back on the saddle.

The next place I was heading for was Palenque which was about 130 – 140 miles away and 2000m lower down. Sixty miles from San Cristobal is the town of Ocosingo, near the Mayan ruins of Tonina and so that was were I was heading.

Leaving San Cristobal there was a long slow climb out of the valley before turning left onto the Palenque road and continuing uphill. After another hour of slowly going uphill the road made a gentle descent into a valley. Four miles later the road once again went uphill. For the next several hours I transversed one valley after another. Sometimes the valley was 2 or 3 miles wide whilst other times it could be less than 500m wide.

What I'm basically trying to say is that I spent most of the day going uphill!!!!

Around 3pm I emerged from a short gorge (going uphill of course), turned the corner and saw that hundreds of metres below me was a wide valley with the town of Ocosingo at the bottom. I was, to say the least, relieved. Stopping at a shop for a drink I sat outside and admired the views. It was only 10 miles to go and I was knackered, it looked like it would be downhill all the way. Getting back on the bike I got up to speed and then free wheeled. About 1.5 miles later the road started going in the wrong direction....uphill!!!!! After a tiring 20 minute climb, proper order was restored and I was free wheeling once again. Several corners later I was once again going uphill. This was getting beyond a joke! A weary 40 minutes later and I was going downhill one more time all the way into the town.

By now it was 16:30 and the 1st hotel I came across (on the outskirts of town) was the one for me! The hotel was quiet and had cable TV, it only cost 130 pesos a night.

In the evening I had meat in the restaurant next door, grabbed a few cans of beer and watched TV in my room whilst listening to the thunderstorm. Come the morning it was still raining but only a light drizzle.

By 9am I had travelled the 10 miles or so to the ruins of Tonina by minibus. I had two cups of coffee in the car park waiting for the rain to stop before giving up and getting wet. The ruins consist of several secondary structures next to a very large 7 tiered pyramid structure, clustered with various temples. The steps up were wet and narrow but climbing down was more difficult (I still don't fully trust my ankle). About 3 hours of wandering and picture taking I headed back to Ocosingo. I checked out the centre of town and was glad I wasn't staying there. I then went into a internet café to check out the road to Palenque using the “terrain feature” on google maps. I came to the conclusion that tomorrow is going to be one hell of a day!

The following day....(and it was 80 miles to Palenque)

It was about 1000m to the main road and after 500m I was walking up a 25%gradient...I only just made it :) After a quick blast downhill to the valley floor I was cycling along the flat at about2/3rd's of my normal speed, things were not looking good. One mile later down the road the 1st climb started. Two hours later I was at the top and I'll admit that some of the climb was spent pushing the bike. After having a rest and a drink outside a shop, it was downhill but not for too long.

Then it was once again uphill, then downhill, then uphill, then downhill, then uphill...I think by now you're getting the general idea. Finally after 4.5 hours and 20 miles the road went down hill for about 10 miles....it was glorious.

So, five hours on the road with 30 of the 80 miles covered....luckily for me about 12 miles away was the tourist trap of Aqua Azul, along a stretch of river are numerous cascading waterfalls but more more importantly a bed!

After a rest at the bottom of the hill it was time again to endure the agony of the climb. I was finding it really hard going, my legs refused to pedal any gear higher than 1st and I was heading uphill at an abysmal 3mph, apart from when my legs decided to not want to pedal at all, forcing me to walk! Eventually, soaked to the skin in sweat, absolutely knackered I reached the top of the mountain. Going down the other side intoxicated by the bliss of the “free wheel” I passed a road sign that meant I only had 5 miles to Aqua Azul...happy days!

Sadly a few hundred metres later I went over a bridge that straddled the river and winced as I saw the road disappear uphill. Six hundred metres later I was walking and continued to do so for the following 3 miles under the hot Mexican afternoon sun. reaching the top the road levelled out and so I was able to pedal, abet slowly.

Half an hour later I came to the Aqua Azul turn off. After a 30 minute rehydration stop I headed along the side road. Three miles later I was in Aqua Azul and man was I worried!!!! The three mile road to get here was tight, twisty and very steeply downhill, there was no way I would be able to cycle back up it!

1st things 1st....a bed was needed and I found one about 500m from the river's edge. I was sitting outside the hotel, after checking in, having a fag wondering on the best way to cool down. It was then that it started to rain...looks like I found the best way to cool down!

I had a ice cold shower (which was wonderful) and a long lie down but by 5pm I was hungry and so I bimbled to the restaurants that line the river.. following a large meal and a couple of beers I found that:
(a) I didn't want another beer (shocking!!!!)
(b) I was very tired

Back in my room I was watching a film, lying on my stomach with my head resting on the pillows when I curled my right leg towards my buttock. I was rewarded with excruciating pain as the tendon in my thigh spasmed. The same thing happened with my left leg, then the arch of my right foot got cramp, painfully! I've think I've broken my lower body...and don't even get me started on the weeping sore on my arse caused by sitting on a sweat soaked saddle all day (if you would like a picture, email me and I'll send you a picture!) Still it could be worse...but right now I'm bot sure quite how?

The next day I woke up but decided against getting out of bed fore a few hours. However by 10:30 my desire for coffee and cigarettes overcame my lethargy and I walked the 500m to the restaurants, slowly. After a leisurely breakfast I walked upstream along a stepped path admiring the numerous waterfalls. Then it was back to the restaurants for lunch, afternoon snacks and dinner. It was during the afternoon that I came up with a “cunning plan” for tomorrow!

In the morning I was woken up before my alarm by the dawn chorus, which wasn't made by birds singing but by dogs barking and howling...mmm. On the bike I made my way up the uncyclable hill but after 100m I stopped and got off. 15 minutes later I was at the top helping the taxi driver get my bike out of the boot! It was the best 50 pesos (or £2.50) i've ever spent, well apart from those pack of condoms I brought back in the 80's the day I lost my virginity...but that's another story!

After a second class breakfast at the shop (that's a coke and a fag by the way) I started to pedal around the corner....the road was going downhill!! The views across the valley were amazing! The sun was shining and the lower half of the valley was shrouded in clouds. As I made my way downhill I entered the clouds and the mist was cooling and wonderful. After 8 miles the road levelled out and I was bimbling along the flat lands …...within the hour I was a 1/3 of the way to Palenque!

A few hours later I came to what I thought could be the last climb. As I had loads of time before it got dark or started to rain I took it easy and by that I mean I mostly walked up the hill because I didn't have the energy to pedal. Eventually I reached the top, there was no fanfare! On the descent down the hill I could sneak peeks of what lay ahead, the Yucatan peninsula....flat as a table cloth!

Towards the bottom of the mountain I came across a shop at a road junction....30 minutes and 1.5 litres of water later I felt refreshed. Now it was only 5 miles to the centre of town....downhill! Back on the saddle the road meandered for several hundred metres before turning a corner and straighten out. Ahead of me the road went uphill...what!!! It was only a for a few hundred metres but as far as I was concerned it was a mountain. This was it....my last climb in Mexico and damn it I was going to make it to the top in one go! I did but it left my knackered.....

Arriving in the centre of town I found a hotel that had what I needed....A/C and cable TV!

Following a ice cold shower (there was plenty of hot water but I didn't want it) I flopped on the bed, turned on the TV and breathed out slowly....I was tired!

When it got dark I managed to drag myself out of the hotel and went for a bimble. The “high street” was less than a 100m away and the place looked nicer than I remembered. I found a restaurant with sport on the TV, looked at the menu and ordered the largest steak they had...with an extra large portion of chips! 12 minutes and 33 seconds after the food arrived it was all gone. Man was I hungry!!!

The next morning I checked out my arse and tested the strength in my road weary legs and decided that a whole week off the bike was definitely in order.

The only thing to “do” here is to visit the nearby Mayan ruins, which I did for the second time. Apart from that....I did mention that my room had A/C and cable TV!!!!

Into the flatlands????

31 Aug 2010

From Palenque its about 500 miles to the diving mecca of Cozumel Island. So it's 10 days of cycling with a few days of sightseeing thrown in...should take me about 2 weeks then.

The 1st day I had planned to only cover about 40 miles to the town of El Zapata...I didn't even get that far.

By the time I had carried my bike and bags down to the hotel lobby I had already broken into a sweat! The road out of Palenque was across gently rolling countryside and after a few hours I hit the main road and turned right. The theme of the road continued past small woods and grass chewing cattle. After 4 hours on the road I had covered 31 miles (it's a lot easier when you're not climbing) and it was midday and hot. The town of El Zapata was 12kms down a side road and I was having a cold can of coke outside the petrol station wondering if I was in fact going to El Zapata or continuing along the main road instead. In the end I decided to carry along the main road and was just about to mount my bike when I saw that 80m away in the corner of the petrol station's large forecourt was a small hotel....fantastic!

For 250 pesos I got the largest hotel room in Mexico I've ever been in and it had A/C, what a bonus! The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging the hours away. When I went outside for the occasional fag by the time I had finished my arms were glistening with beads of sweat, It was like standing in front of a blast furnace. Me thinks that I am going to have to keep a close eye on my hydration levels. Just after 7pm I was hungry, as I was bimbling to the restaurant on the other side of the forecourt I looked skyward and watched in wonder as a huge electrical storm surged low across the horizon, its jet black clouds swirling in the strong winds. By the time dinner was served the storm was overhead and sounding angry.

In the morning I was up early and on the road just after 7am. The rolling countryside of yesterday was replaced by a flat waterlogged landscape and Romanesque roads. 10 hours and 76 miles later I came across the next hotel...I was knackered! A cold shower and a 2 hour lie down watching TV whilst the A/C cooled the room helped (but not that much). Tomorrow, due to today's high mileage I only have about 30 miles to travel to get to the large town of Escarcega, should take me about 6 hours :)

Well it turns out it only took me 4 hours. I'm having a day off the bike or more importantly a day out of the sun! Plus I need to once again go to the bike shop and get not 1 spoke but 2 replaced!!!!!

This never happened when I cycled across Europe but then I did have a German made bike!

After a day of rest I wasn't ready to get back on the road but I did never the less. The sunrise was spectacular and it was the highlight of the day! The road started out flat but that was soon to change. Usually when going along a flat road I bimble along at 12-15mph but today it was hard work to manage even 10mph. The reason was the strong headwind! It's the hurricane season right now and there was one out in the gulf of Mexico, this meant that were I was, whilst being 200 miles away, I was still being affected by it.

Then the dips happened! The rolling countryside whilst being nice to look at was a bitch to pedal across. The road stayed straight but the gradients were steep. Each “dip” was no more than a 1000m climb but in a strong headwind and in temperatures heading towards 40oc it was soul destroying. 4.5 hours after leaving the hotel I had only covered 30 miles and it was 11:30. I pulled into a shop and spent the next 30 minutes trying to cool down (somewhat unsuccessfully). I asked the lass behind the counter how far the nearest hotel was and when she answered part of me wished that I had never asked the question. Damn!...it was 30 miles away....oh boy!!!!!

Back on the bike it was hard work, forget about 10mph, I was working hard to manage 8mph and that was on the flat bits. An hour later I was in desperate need of shade, I stopped at a bus shelter and rested the bike against the long bench seat. As for myself, I laid down on the seat, my head resting on the front pannier....I had given up! (if only for an hour)

By 5pm I came to a small village called Conhuas near the Mayan ruins of Balamku. Stopping for a much needed drink I asked the question and got the answer. For 250 pesos I got a small thatched hut which had a bed and mosquito net in it (but no fan) whilst the nearby shower and toilet block had no water. Still, it was better than sleeping at the side of the road.

Following a somewhat smelly and sticky night I only had about 35 miles to the town of Xupjil, where I knew there were several hotels. The day was pretty much like the one before except the wind was stronger and I was weaker. The hours and kilometres passed slowly whilst the sweat trickled down from my head and slowly made its way to my shoes.

Around 1pm I stopped in the small village of Becan, I only had about 5 more miles to go!! After a couple of cold drinks I was back on the bike relieved in the knowledge that there wasn't much further to go. A couple of miles down the road and I was bimbling along quite happily when I approached a couple of young men at the side of the road. One of them was sitting down in the narrow shade of a large bush whilst the other one was just standing up. As I drew level with the upright man he swung a metal bar at my face! I'm guessing his plan was to knock me off my bike then unconscious before robbing me of all my possessions. Thankfully I have very quick reflexes so instead of the pipe smashing into my face it impacted heavily with my crash helmet, breaking into two pieces in the process. Immediately I found lots of energy and accelerated away with the guy giving chase. After 20m he gave up and badly threw the other half of the pipe at me. At this point I stopped, looked back and was giving serious consideration to getting off the bike, going back and beating the crap out of the guy. The two guys then choose that instant to disappear into the dense undergrowth and I, now with a cooler head, decided to carry on.

A short while later I arrived in the town of Xupjil, got myself a very nice hotel room (500 pesos pn) turned on the TV, watching the San Marino round of the MotoGP and relaxed as the A/C cooled me down.

The next day I woke up and turned on the TV.

The following day I was back on the road and it was “only 70 miles” to Chetumal. I was hoping there was a hotel about half way there.

The road was still being a bitch. The undulations were steep and the wind had gotten even stronger, It was hard work! After several hours I reached a small town which was about at the midpoint. Sadly there were no hotels...looks like it was going to be one hell of a day. ¾ of an hour later I saw a sign for a hotel and 15 minutes later I was at the turn off. Now it was decision time, I could either carry on peddling the 30 miles to Chetumal or I could cycle the 4.5km down the side road to the hotel. It wasn't just any hotel....it was a luxury resort hotel i.e. bloody expensive!!

30 minutes later I was checking into the Explorean Resort Hotel @ Kohunlich. It's an all inclusive hotel with isolated bungalows, infinity pool etc. etc. I had already steeled myself, so when the lass told me how much it was a night I didn't even flinch (however when I got to my bungalow I did whimper just a little bit...I mean 2700 pesos a night, that's a week's accommodation in one day). After a shower and a lie down I had a welcome introduction thingy.

Everyday they lay on an activity and today's was a twilight kayak paddle in a wetland lagoon. Even though I was drop dead tired I agreed to go. Following a plate of “whitey soul food” I whiled the 90 minutes away on my fantastically comfortable king size bed till it was time to go on the excursion.

We were on the water just as darkness approached and in the glow of the head torch there were loads of eyes looking back, mostly frogs but also one crocodile. After an hour or so it was completely dark and we all turned off the lights, laid back in the kayaks and checked out the milky way...WOW! By now I was absolutely famished and when we got back to the shore and out of the boats some 30 minutes later nothing had changed. Thankfully, on the shore of the lagoon a table had been set for dinner, illuminated by oil lamps and a log fire nearby.

The food was fantastic and the night's sleep was blissful.

In the morning I really didn't feel like leaving so I spent the day by the infinity pool on a day bed under a parasol. When it got too hot...I did mention about the pool already!!!

Before a late lunch I had an 90 minute hot stone massage.....today life is good :)

The next day I really had to leave, my wallet couldn't stand the strain any more. Turns out it was actually 40 miles to Chetumal and as there was no wind for the 1st two hours by 9am I was halfway there. After that I started to take it easy.....

I found a okay hotel with A/C, cable TV and wifi and settled down for a restful long weekend. After two days of pondering I decided that I couldn't be arsed to cycle the 200 odd miles to Cozumel (I was only going there for the diving) so instead on Monday morning I'll be pedalling the 10 miles to the Belizean border instead.

In the land of the obese...

sfau — Fri, 9 Apr 2010 06:26:00 GMT

In the land of the obese....is the overweight man slim?

Er....No! I'm still a fat bastard

The ten hour flight to Vegas took 12 hours. The computer in Manchester that works out all the load info for Virgin had crashed, so not a single Virgin flight could take off till the computer was fixed or the pilots had worked out all the math on the back of a napkin. Hence the two hour delay.

Clearing customs took an hour but at least there was no wait for the baggage.

Las Vegas is 8 hours behind Wokingham so when I finally crashed out at 11pm I had been awake for over 24 hours. Fun times this jet lag thing!

The next day I was on the bus to a shop to buy even more camping/travelling stuff. It took 2.5 hours to travel the 10 miles by bus and when I got back to the hotel I realised I had forgotten to buy a sleeping bag liner. I decided to have a smelly sleeping bag!

Las Vegas isn't really my kind of town. I find gambling to be quite boring (and also expensive). However the bar in the hotel/casino had several large TV screens showing sports. So it was a good weekend for Chelsea and Portsmouth, not so good for Spurs or Manchester united...happy days!

During the last day in Vegas I packed and then repacked my panniers several times, making sure each set of panniers were about the same weight. This is important...I think.

And then it was Tuesday morning....

bear in mind that since the middle of august all I've done really is

smoke fags
eat cheese
drink beer (with the occasional glass of my sister's wine)
sat on my arse
gained about 10 kilos in weigh (and that's me standing in a river in Egypt!)

and now I was starting a bike trip of unknown mileage and length. Plus I've never ridden a bicycle that was fully loaded with panniers before.

Day 1

This is it!!!!

What the hell am I doing????

I left the hotel around 7am for the 35 mile ride to a campsite on the shores of Lake Mead. After about 15 minutes I had gotten the hang of riding a fully loaded touring bike (thankfully!)

I had checked the route on google maps back on my sister's sofa last week. It only involved making one right turn, followed by one left turn. What could possibly go wrong? 60 minutes later I was in the middle of the desert (sorry, Las Vegas wetland nature reserve) on a dirt track heading in a direction that could be almost right. Not having a bike equipped with off road tyres meant that my speed was greatly reduced. As I wasn't in a rush, this was a good thing.

An hour or two later I appeared out of the desert and into the Las Vegas Lake Resort. A quick question of “where am I?” followed by “which way to lake Mead?” and I was on my way. Turns out I was only a few miles from the park entrance...sweet!

An hour later I was at boulder beach campsite. Due to the lack of water in the lake the actual beach was 800m away. For $10 a night I had a pitch, shade, a concrete picnic table and access to a toilet block that didn't have any showers. Yep, there's only about 5 tents here but many RV's.

When dusk came along I went gratefully to bed...

Day 2

I was up with the sun and a few hours later I was on my way. Leaving the campsite I turned left and headed to the main road a mile or so away. Halfway there the road's gradient increased and I quickly found out that my legs had no energy! Walking up the slope (and this wouldn't be the last time today either) I made it to the main road that lead to the Hoover Dam. This road's gradient was okay and so I cycled the few miles to the dam.

For some reason the dam looks bigger on the telly! Still it was a photo opportunity. Once over the dam I looked up and saw the road ahead of me...bugger! 20 minutes later I had gotten to the top and in one go I might add. A quick rest and a liquid refill at the café and I was off, hopefully downhill.

The downhill bit lasted about 4 minutes and for the next several miles it was mostly uphill, very slowly. On all of the steeper and longer bits it was a case of cycle for a bit, then get off and walk for bit. I would like to say that it was because I didn't want to stress out my ankle too much. That would be a lie, it was because I am an unfit fat bastard with pathetically weak legs.

Finally I cleared the last pass and the valley opened up before me. Its underlating road stretching out before me. The next place to get a cold drink of anything was 20 miles away and my energy levels were low. The fucking strong headwind was helping things either.

Two hours later I was still at least 30 minutes away from sweet beautiful shade when out of the heat mirage I saw a petrol station appear...and it was real! It also had an RV park and a bar (which was sadly closed). I decided to stay the night here and after chatting to the owner he mentioned that for $40 I could rent a static trailer for the night!

Its now early evening and I still have 5 ice cold beers from a 6 pack left. Tonight I will be sleeping in a bed after drinking the rest of the beers....well I am 40 years old today!!!!

Tomorrow I have a 50 mile ride across the desert to the town of Kingman or I wake up late feeling sore and weak and decide to try again the next day!

Day 3

I awoke just as the morning sun peaked over the mountains on the eastern side of the valley. The cold desert air chilled me in an invigorating way but no matter how glorious the day was my legs said no!

The trailer has a soft leather sofa which is just long enough for me too lounge out on. Cue cold drinks, movies, games and dozing the day away.

Day 4

After another great night's sleep I was once again up at dawn (or 05:45 to you). Just after 7am, after my usual breakfast, I was on the road to Kingman. It was easy, cruising along at an comfortable 10 mph but after 20 minutes the headwind picked up and my speed dropped by 30% for the rest of the day...bugger!!!!

Thankfully the 1^st five hours in the saddle were spent under a overcast cloudy sky, great conditions for crossing an arid landscape. Every 10-15 miles or so there were little rest stop shops for cold drinks and an ice cream. By midday I still had about 20 miles to go and with the gusting headwind my road speed was down to a measly 7mph (and that was on the flat bits). Still, it wasn't like I was just going to stop and give up! I carried on along the road, now under a blazing desert sun, head bowed down and with my eyes looking only several feet ahead.

For 10 miles the road was straight enough to make a Roman proud and when I finally came across a corner, with only 5 miles to go, the road went skyward. The climb was 2 miles long and sadly the last mile was spent pushing the bike, my tank was near empty and I really couldn't be arsed to drain it completely. Once over the pass (3737feet above MSL) it was down hill into the town of Kingman.

After a quick tour around the old town (why would I want to go the the new bit?) I checked into a motel 10 minutes walk away and crashed out in the chair with my naked feet on the stool and my hand holding a very large bottle of water...good times :)

The evening, after a Chinese, was spent watching TV, drinking the odd can of beer and massaging my ankle.

Day 5

Following a leisurely wake up I bimbled around the old part of “Historic Kingman”, founded in 1882! I had breakfast in Mr D'z diner complete with its fluorescent green and pink seats and then checked out the local “Route 66 museum” before wandering back to the motel room for some bike maintenance and looking at maps in the afternoon.

My original plan was from here, to go to the grand canyon and then head south to central Mexico. As you should know by now my plans change with ever increasing irregularity and as such I am now heading to Mexico's Baja California instead. Lets face it I could cycle (the 300 mile round trip) to the grand canyon but what would I do when I got there? Look over the edge and say “that's a big hole!” I wont be going trekking or riding any beast with 4 legs...so what's the point!

From looking at the map it will be a roundabout route because I ain't going to be cycling on the Interstate (even if it was legal) and sometimes it looks like that is the only road from point ?A to point B.

So, the 1^st few days on the bike were as enjoyably hard as I knew they would be and the 116 miles I cycled so far is only just the start...

Kingman to needles

it was a 50 mile ride from Kingman to Needles, half of which would be on the “historic” route 66. whilst I was in the museum yesterday I came across a cross section of the route. It was downhill, then uphill before going downhill once again...sweet!

Leaving the motel just before 7am I turned left and free wheeled downhill. 12 miles later I was still free wheeling :) A few miles of flat followed and then the road went uphill fast, I went uphill slowly. Two and half hours and ten miles later I had reached the top of the pass (3350ft ASL).

The climb may have been slow but the scenery was beautiful. Wind worn rock ridges and flat top escapements and deep narrow valleys the road made its way around them all. The road was quiet (well it was a Sunday) the thermaling raptures were silent and the only noise I heard were the scuttling of unseen lizards, birdsong and the rustling of the stiff leaves of the arid scrub plants as the wind gently blew.

From the top of the pass it was a 5 mile blast downhill and into the “old wild west town” of Oatman. It looked like an old movie set that had been taken over by souvenir shops selling cheap tourist tat. However it was a real town with an old gold mine on the outskirts of town. So, go back 150 years or so....

Leaving Oatman it was about 25 miles to Needles and after safety passing several asses that were blocking the road it was an 18 mile free wheel down into the valley where the Colorado river flows. Hitting bottom I turned left and an hour later I was crossing the river, leaving Arizona behind and entering California (where you can't smoke in bars...boo!)

I found a cheap motel near the interstate with a restaurant and bar nearby. More importantly the motel had a washing machine and so for the 1^st time since leaving England I was able to wash my clothes!

Needles to Blythe

It is 96 miles between these two towns...96 miles across the desert. From Needles the nearest place to get water was 50 miles away at Vidal junction, so when I left I was carry 12 litres of water with me (which was about 8 litres more than normal). Yesterday I came down one side of the valley and today I would be going up the other side of the valley.

The road had a slight uphill gradient to it but that combined with the strong headwind made it hard work. The sky was thankfully overcast so my water consumption wasn't to high. Highway 95 isn't a dual carriageway so when the trucks and large RV's passed by I hoped no traffic was coming the other way!

So the day continued uphill into the strong headwind, mile after mile. 20 miles later I had crossed over a ridge and went downhill for a few miles before once again I was going along a road that had a energy sapping shallow gradient (of about 3%) into a 25mph head wind. By now I still had 30 miles to go till I could have a cold drink in the shade. The road was straight all the way!. I arrived at Vidal junction just after 3pm and spent 45 minutes in the shade enjoying the cold bubbles in the coke can.

Now it was only 49 miles to Blythe, too far for me to make it there before the sun went down. I therefore decided to travel down the road for an hour or two before camping on the side of the road. 90 minutes and 17 miles later I went over the crest of a large dip in the road and I saw a sign that was displaying two of my favourite words in the English language.... “cold” and “beer”! Therefore I decided to spend the night in the RV park and not on the side of the road. For $10 I got a flat grass area to pitch my tent on under the shade of several large trees, a hot shower, a picnic table to serve diner on, a general store that sold me a couple of ice cold cans of beer whilst being on the bank of the Colorado river!

In the morning I was up before dawn and sat on the bank of the river, coffee in hand, watching the sun rise.

It was only 32 miles to Blythe so I was looking forward to an easy day in the saddle, man was I wrong! The wind had picked up and it was blowing hard, right into my face. Four hours later I still had 6 miles to reach the city limits and the road, now flat, was crossing open farm land. The wind was so strong that I was down in 5^th gear struggling to maintain a forward speed of 6mph. I finally made it to Blythe and found a cheap motel half way down the main street (the main street is about 5 miles long in a town of only 12000 people!) had a shower, turned on the AC to Max and crashed out on the bed for an hour or two.

I'm having a day off tomorrow and hopefully on Thursday when I get back on the road the wind will have dropped or even better spun around by 180 degrees so that I have a tailwind!!!

Blythe to Brawley

Well I woke up early on Thursday morning, eager to get back on the road. Whilst having my usual breakfast outside the motel room I decided that the almost gale force winds blowing across the pre dawn sky would keep me here another day (well, I ain't in no rush!)

Friday morning I was back on the road just after dawn and after 15 miles I had left the green of the fields behind and headed out into the desert. It was 40 miles to the next watering hole and after crossing 2 valleys and endless miles of “dips” I arrived at Glamis, where there was a rail road, a shop and a huge expansive of sand dunes. The only reason the shop was there was to cater for the all the people that come out of the towns with their dune buggies and quad bikes to spend the day or weekend blasting over the towering sand dunes nearby.

After resting and rehydrating in the cool blessed shade for 45 minutes I was back on the bike, heading to the Brawley only 27 miles away. By now it was nearing 3pm and I had been on the road for 9 hours...3 hours later I arrived at Brawley and checked into the 1^st motel I came across.

A few hours (a a few litres of gaterorade) later I was clean, fed and relaxed, basking in the glow of self achievement caused by cycling 88 miles in one day (a personal record I might add!) and the slight sun tan I had picked up :)

The following morning I cruised the 23miles to the town of Calexico, right on the US/Mexican border. I'll be here for Saturday and Sunday night before getting back in the saddle early Monday morning.

Turns out it was actually Tuesday morning....

Calexico to Highway 94 (junction 65 on Interstate 8)

Damn, what a day I had!

It all started out so well, I left the Border Motel on 4^th street just after 7am and after filling up with water and coffee at one of the many gas stations in town I was on my way.

Heading west on highway 98 I was making good time and just over two hours later I had travelled 20 miles, I was feeling good. With less than 6 miles to go to the gas station and the extended rest stop I passed a very large sign that read

STRONG WINDS

FOR THE NEXT

63 MILES

that sign didn't lie!

Twenty minutes later I was several gears and mph's lower. Stopping for a quick drink, Philip pulled up alongside me. He's in his early 50's and was cycling from somewhere in Florida to San Diego with two other people who were a few miles behind. They had been on the road since the middle of February and it was their penultimate day on the road.

Back on the bikes he slowly pulled ahead of me and went straight onto the interstate. I turned right into a nearby gas station! Just as I was leaving the pit stop I bumped into Philip's companions, two ladies, one in her 40's and the other in her early 20's. Another chat followed and then I left them to their break.

Now, for the 1^st and only time I was on the interstate. It was 10 miles to the top of the pass travelling along a wide hard shoulder with a 8% gradient...no worries!

Actually...er....no! The head wind was gusting up to 40mph and I was in 1^st gear. After 2 miles something went “ping” in my ankle and after a very short while it became obvious that walking would be better. It was hot (95f in the shade....what shade!!), windy and the road was long. With about 5 miles to go to the top the girls caught up with me and then passed me by.

Then I hit the wall.....I found out I had absolute no energy left!

60 minutes later I still had 3.5 miles to the top of the pass but I was sitting under the interstate in the cooling shade of a bridge, facing up to what would be a very very long day :( Just then one of the many border patrol trucks I had been seeing all day stopped in front of me. An angel got out and said that “my friends” further up the road were worried about me! She offered me a lift and without any hesitation I replied “yes please, thank you ever so much” On the 3^rd attempt at trying to get my bike into the back of the enclosed pick up. I remembered that my bike had “S&S” couplings and so I could split the bike in two...doh! Chucking the bags on the back seat I jumped into the front and off we went.

Once over the top of the pass we carried on the 5 miles to the next petrol station, “my friends” weren't there so I mentioned that we would be going on to highway 94 a further 10 miles down the road. She dropped me off a a local store/gas station and after a cold drink and an ice lolly I biked the ½ mile to the only motel in the area. Once there...I turned the A/C on and collapsed on the bed!

Tomorrow I only have 30 miles to cycle to the border :)

many thanks to Philip and his two friends for looking out for me and asking the border patrol to make sure I was okay...turns out I wasn't :)

Last day in the US of A (28^th of April 2010)

It was 28 miles to the border and the Mexican town of Tecate. It was a cold, windy and wet day. I thought about staying in the motel for another night but as it was a crap motel with no services I got on the bike instead.

Within 30 minutes my hands were numb, my feet sodded (gore tex = waterproof? My arse!) but at least I was going mostly downhill, slowly. The scenery was awesome but as the mist limited my vision to about 100m, the rain stinging my eyes and the gusting headwind (up to 50mph in places) made me keep my head down.

Three hours later the rain clouds had disappeared, the sun was making an effort to shine and I was free wheeling to the border. After a little confusion I remembered that I really did need a stamp and visa in my passport to enter Mexico...doh! I filled out the form and was told to take it to the bank a couple of blocks away for the visa payment. The six month visa would cost $262 which I thought was amazingly expensive! At the bank I was told I had to pay in pesos and it was at that point that I remembered that the dollar and peso sign were the same! Therefore I got my visa for less than £20.

I found a cheap hotel a few blocks away in the centre of town and whilst I was writing all this down in the shaded courtyard I realised that I never got an exit stamp from the US customs...Sod them!

So, 15 days on the road with ten days in the saddle...460 miles covered. From Tecate to La Paz is about 960 miles, should take me about a month then...????

Notes from a small sofa

sfau — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 21:28:00 GMT

The plane from Bangkok landed at Kathmandu international airport in the late morning and my connecting internal flight to Pokhara wasn’t till 2pm. So I had plenty of time to walk the several hundred metres to the domestic terminal….

Hang on a minute…..Noooooooo!

Well that was what was supposed to of happened, but I broke my leg and snapped my ankle in Malaysia during the middle of August! So instead of arriving in Nepal I went to the day surgery unit at Milton Keynes hospital to have the screws removed.

Since the last operation to have my screws fitted back in the 1st week of September I have been mostly bored! Ten weeks of sitting on a sofa thinking about what I should have been doing instead

Like:

paragliding in Bali
Diving in Bali
Seeing the dragons on the island of komodo
Hanging out on the Tioman islands (where the film south pacific was filmed) and diving in amongst the pristine corals offshore
Learning to surf in the warm waters off the east coast of Malaysia

I’ve been sitting on two sofas, my parents and my sisters and there are pros and cons to each of them

Parent’s sofa pros
Free beer
When it rains I don’t get wet whilst having a fag outside

Parent’s sofa cons
Afternoon “quiet times”
Having to watch “midsummer murders” seemingly every bloody day!
Getting off the sofa, it’s to low down for comfort

Sister’s sofa pros
Control of the tv remote till 7pm
A double bed to sleep on (round the parents its only a single)
Wifi internet access

Sister’s sofa cons
Having to pay for my own beer and food
Going up the stairs
Not having a downstairs toilet
Cat hair
If it’s raining, getting wet when having a fag!

After the 1st week of the operation I had a nice lightweight polycarbonate cast fitted which was great but the fun started after it came off 4 weeks later….

Q) How much fun can it be to peel dead skin off the sole of your foot?
A) Lots!!!!!

However the people around you might beg to differ.

With the cast off I could start trying to flex my ankle again and stretch my Achilles tendon. Flexing my foot away from me was quite easy to achieve but trying to point my toes towards me hasn’t been as successful. I still have over an inch to go….

Right now I have a two week wait whilst the wound heals and hopefully I’ll avoid getting an infection in it.

After that the physiotherapy rehabilitation begins …..

Ps: every time my sister picked me up from the parent’s house to take me down to her place my parents gave her a cash “bribe” or “backhander” to make sure she did…it’s so nice to be wanted!

Gallery: on my travels

sfau — Sat, 7 Nov 2009 04:44:00 GMT

I'm H.A.P.P.Y

sfau — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 19:49:00 GMT

My sister wheeled me to the car park of terminal 5 and once we were on the road heading towards the M4 I looked at her with big puppy dog eyes. Moments later I was impersonating a beagle that had just been rescued by the A.L.F. My head was sticking out of the window with a fag in my mouth enjoying the coolness of an English summer morning, the complete lack of humidity in the air and the six hundred or so chemicals found in a full fat Marlboro

40 minutes and a few fags later we reached my sister’s house in Wokingham. Coffee, a bacon buttie and a beer followed and then it was back on the road to Buckingham, my parent’s house and the A&E department of Milton Keynes hospital.

My parents were pleased to see me (but that wouldn’t last for long) and after a coffee and a chat my mum took me to the hospital. After chatting with the lass at A&E I had an appointment for the fracture clinic on Wednesday morning. Back at the house, my feet were up, a large plate of cheese was nearby and the TV was on Dave for all those lovely reruns of Top Gear!

On Wednesday I was back at the hospital chatting with the doctor as we looked at my x-rays. Turns out that the doctors in Malaysia had missed the fact that my fibula had sheared of the ankle bone!!! The doctor told me how many screws and bits of wire would be needed to rebuild my ankle and then I was wheeled up to ward 21 to await the surgery the following morning.

The last time I stayed in a hospital was over 20 years ago (for a broken leg…same bone, same leg!) and I really wasn’t looking forward to it…but was I in for a surprise! The ward only had 6 beds in it, each of them with a remote control for raising and lowering various bits of the mattress, which was nice. The nurses and health care assistants were great, they brought me coffee!!!!

The following day I woke up in the recovery room after the surgery and for some reason they wouldn’t give me a coffee. Also someone had shaved the top of my right thigh? Back on the ward the nurse, after much pleading, produced a coffee. Damn it tasted great!

The next morning (Friday) I was discharged, with new and comfortable crutches and a bag of painkillers. I had a week of lounging around the house until I had to return for a check up and a lite weight cast at the fracture clinic.

Back at the parents house life was easy if somewhat slow, boring and slightly painful. The painkillers did the trick and after a little pondering I worked out that I hadn’t had a bowel movement for 3 days. I think that a couple of pounds of cheese on the Monday and Tuesday had blocked me up somewhat. Thankfully I had some laxative along with the painkillers and by the next day I was “with movement” which was nice!

The next Friday I was back at the fracture clinic for the post op one week check up. After the x-ray I swung into the doctor’s office to see him looking intently at my x-ray. Even I, with my limited medical training, could see that they was something not quite right! Turns out that my bones had “pinged” apart and that I would need to go under the knife again, this time with bigger screws…bugger!

Back on ward 21 I said hello once again to the nurses and settled down into the bed I had left behind last week. The surgery was booked for the following morning until I mentioned to the doctor that some puss had oozed trough the bandages. I was put on a course of anti-biotics and as this was the bank holiday weekend I would be here till the doctor came back on Tuesday.

Once again the nurses and care assistants were just great. The coffee was hot and strong and the food was surprisingly tasty. The long weekend was indeed long and only my liver was enjoying the rest!

On the Tuesday the consultant came back from his weekend off and looked at my ankle. I would be having the surgery the next day! However…the next day came around and it turns out they were busy. As I was a low priority and they were unable to guarantee a place on the table instead of spending all day “nil by mouth” only to be disappointed by the evening time they booked me in for the next day. Even before the doctor had left the ward I was pressing the call button to order breakfast!

To be continued

I'm sure i am...

sfau — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 19:42:00 GMT

WELCOME TO THE INTERNATIONAL PARAGLIDING CARNIVAL 2009, BAHAU

Getting off the bus at the main carnival landing site I was greeted by the intriguing looks of school kids at the bus stop. This wasn’t a surprise as the carnival site was the local school.
Meeting up with the local pilots, a few of whom I had met before, we jumped into a 4x4 and headed off to the landing zone nearest the ridge and take off. Asked if I wanted to fly I replied “Nah!” All I wanted was a shower and a cold beer. A few hours later the pilots had landed and we made our way to the festival accommodation.

This turned out to be a “typical Malay village homestead experience”, so I got to sleep on the floor of a hut. As alcohol was banned all I got was a shower! The price of the weekend was only 50RM (£8.70) but the actual cost was a lot higher than that. Thanks must go to the state government and the Malaysian tourist board that had heavily subsidised it. For the money you got

Four nights accommodation
Breakfast, lunch and diner
Free transport to take off
Free recovery from landing
Free transport to and from kuala lumpur international airport

And of course the chance to win the top cash prize of nearly £600 if you came 1st In the flight endurance challenge…I wasn’t holding out any hope of winning that!

The next morning it was up early and after breakfast off to take off for 6 hours of parawaiting! The wind was coming from every direction except the one we needed to take off from. Thankfully there were several shade marquees to lounge under but it was still damn hot. It was approaching 4pm when the wind finally settled down in the right direction and people started to take off.

With about 15 people in the sky I took of and all I got was that sinking feeling! Well a 5 minute flight is better than no flight at all. The landing zone at the bottom of the ridge is a series of dirt tracks winding their way through the terraces of a newly planted palm tree plantation. The roads are in all directions so no matter which way the wind is blowing a place to land is easy to find.

I had set up a nice long approach glide following one of the tracks (in a nil wind environment) and was gently coming into land. A few metres above the ground I was drifting away from the middle of the track and out towards the edge. Weight shifting to the right with my brakes fully on I came into land with the knowledge that the landing would require several steps to run off the speed but nothing too serious or strenuous.

My right foot hit the track, my left hit the slightly softer ground on the edge of the track. I was halfway through my next stride when it came to my attention that I was unable to move my left leg (turns out it was trapped under a rock)…bugger! The right hand side of my body smacked into the dirt and gravel of the track before I tumbled ass over tit, coming to a rest on my back. I lifted up my head and looked at my left leg. Somehow the laces of the boot were facing me whilst the toes were pointing downwards to the left and my ankle bone was “resting” on the cuff of the boot pushing against the skin. “That’s going to need surgery” I said to myself.

Then the pain hit me…..

I wailed for help and then through gritted teeth kept on saying fuck, fuck, fuck me, fuck it hurts, oh fuck me it hurts, fuck it, fuck……….

The rescue team’s 4x4 turned up very quickly and the looks on all three of their faces were far from reassuring!!!!

30 minutes later I was in the A&E of the local hospital and yes the pain in my ankle was still there. X-rays followed then a bed and a decent amount of painkillers. By 20:20 the drugs had worn off and the pain returned with a vengeance. The 1st two shots of drugs really were far from effective and it took an hour of searing pain till I managed to persuade them for a 3rd hit. This time they changed the drug and it worked.

At 11pm I was wheeled into a room and they explained that the nice man standing in the corner would be manually putting my ankle back into place. After seeing the look on my face they assured me that they would give me a painkilling injection 1st…phew! The drug worked really well and my smiling euphoric face watched as the man grabbed hold of my ankle and foot, pulled then clicked my ankle back into position. Then a cast was put on and I was wheeled back to the ward, my bed and a drug induced stupor that lasted till the morning.

Come the morning came the x-rays and the doctors. The x-ray showed that I had broken my fibula (news to me!) about 5 inches below the knee and also that I had chipped a chunk of bone off my ankle that would need securing back into place with either a screw or a plate. When they started to discuss surgery times I interrupted them. “Thanks but no thanks” I said “I’m going back to England ASAP and have the surgery done there”. At 1st they were all against it but when I pointed out that I was actually travelling they relented. They had assumed that I was in fact an Ex-pat!

As I was travelling they gave me a very safe cast that came halfway up my thigh and weighed several kilos. On Saturday afternoon I was discharged and I managed to get a flight on Sunday afternoon back to England via Hong Kong.

My sister was waiting for me when I came through the arrivals gate at 05:36 Monday morning

i know i am...

sfau — Sun, 9 Aug 2009 19:41:00 GMT

Days of lounging around in the red tomato garden café and Debbie’s bar finally came to an end! After 4 hours sleep I was up way to early to catch the 07:30 ferry back to the mainland and the bus to Kuala Lumpur. I had 4 nights in the city and I was in town a few hours before the community shield kicked off. Chelsea won and I was happy.

I was in town to get a 60 day visa for Indonesia and after checking the location of the embassy via Google maps I was on my way on Monday morning. Turns out Google maps got the location wrong and after a long 20 minute walk to the right coordinates I arrived at the embassy.(which by the way was only a 10 minute walk from my hotel!!!!!) My way was blocked by etiquette: I was wearing shorts and not long trousers. As it turns out I don’t own a pair of long pants, so looks like I had to go shopping after all.

The next day, wearing long pants, I turned up early and applied for the visa. Forms were filled out, money paid and between 4pm and 5pm that day I would be able to pick up my passport complete with the visa!
After wishing the day away I picked up the passport and on the way back to the hotel I popped into a mall for some window shopping and A/C therapy! What a stroke of luck…I was wondering around a sports shop when I came across the holy grail of travelling shoes….Merrells!!!! As was in need for a new pair of shoes it was a joy to behold.

On Thursday morning I was back on the road heading down to the small town of Bahau a few hours south of Kuala Lumpur to take part in the international paragliding festival that was taking place over the weekend.

Attack of the killer fish!

sfau — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 19:40:00 GMT

I was flying out of Medan international airport (relax, you can smoke inside. Past passport control, 1st floor on the right!) with airasia.com. Being a low cost airline if your bags weigh more than 15kgs you have to pay extra. My bag weighs 20kgs so I paid the extra when I booked the ticket online. Putting the bag on the scales at check in I was, at first, surprised to see the bag was in fact 21.3kg! Then I remembered the paintings and shirt (dad, the shirt is mine alright!) I had brought when I was at Lake Maninjau. The employee of the airline stated the obvious but I replied that it was only a kilo over, so did it really matter that much. Turns out it did! I replied sarcastically that maybe I should take a kilo out of the bag and put it in my carry on luggage. “Yes, that’s fine” was her reply. I am still trying to work out the logic of that!

The flight took less time then it takes to read the in-flight magazine and by the time I was checked into the hostel in Georgetown I had only missed the 1st 9 laps of the German gp. Sadly there were no seats left on the Monday ferry so instead I will be going on the Tuesday morning one instead.

On Monday I went to the post office (exciting I know) in order to lighten my bag by 1.3 kilos, then I went to the mall. During my 30 days in Sumatra the laundry (wo)man managed to lose two pairs of pants. The pants in question had travelled with me from England and two years on the road is a long time. However, as any man will know you only replace underwear when its long since started to fall apart (unless they are your “lucky pants”, then you will never part with them)

Midday on Tuesday I was back on the island of Langkawi and I quickly got back into the routine. This time, as a bonus I had cable tv in my chalet…sweet! The staff at both the red tomato garden café and Debbie’s place remembered my order as soon as I walked in. All I had to do was nod, sit down and await the arrival of the mug of coffee or the pint of Carlsberg, depending on which establishment I was in.

After a few days of relaxing and watching television (1st time in over 30 days) I splashed the cash and went diving on the Friday (17th). I dived the same two dive sites as before but as the viz was down to 4m in places it looked altogether different.

On the 1st dive, me and my dive buddy were slowly drifting with the current above the sandy bottom near the rocks a few metres away when I felt a sharp and intense pain in my left foot. Avoiding a sudden urge to spit out my reg in order to say “OW!” I looked around….just in time to see a trigger fish about to enjoy the sweet tasting meat of me for a second time. It opened its wide cavernous mouth, with blood dripping off its large razor edged teeth and went to clamp its grotesque jaws around my foot. At the precise moment my left leg lashed out, trailing crimson blood in the murky waters of the ocean like ruby coloured meteors burning across a twilight sky. My bleeding foot smacked into the trigger fish’s hide with a righteous force that spun it around several times, disorientated and confused the killer fish was in no condition to continue its ravenous attack. So with blood still flowing freely from the gaping wound in what was left of my foot I swam away to safety.

Okay…it didn’t happen quite like that!! I suppose a pinprick of blood was the most I split. But this is my 100th blog so I thought that for once I would exaggerate what happened a little. Unless you really want to read a blog about a short fat bald man lounging around drinking coffee and beer with the occasional scratching of body parts.

And yes, in the evening I had fish “n” chips….and then they ran out of Carlsberg….hello Tiger!

96.4%

sfau — Mon, 6 Jul 2009 19:48:00 GMT

Out of the hotel early and straight onto the bus!

Two hours later I was somewhere in the large city of Medan. The coolness of the Karo Highlands had been replaced by the heat of the lowlands and no matter how nice (?) the street comer was I needed to get to the bus station. I jumped into the sidecar of the rickshaw and enjoyed the breeze but not the scenery. Arriving later at the bus station my driver asked several people where the bus and or minibus to Bukit Lawang could be found. Every person gave a different answer and following a five minute ride around the general vicinity of the bus station the bike conked out and refused to start. Sensing an opportunity I paid the man his due and grabbing my bags made my way to the terminal building. Within seconds I had the answer and wandered over to where the bus was parked. (Its bus lane number 6 if you wanted to know). A wait of 45 minutes ensued and then being the 1st on I got a seat next to the permanently open rear door (for the cooling breeze). Three hours later the bus came to the end of the road and I got off.

The guy I was chatting to on the bus (he works as a trekking guide) took me under his wing and showed me a hotel, he got a free lift the kilometre or so from the bus station. To get to the hotel meant crossing the river (this is the same river that back in the winter of 2003 during a flash flood, with a 20m high wall of water, destroyed nearly all of the village, killing hundreds of people in the process). The suspension bridge was narrow with large triangles of wires along its length. It was also the only wire, bamboo and wood plank bridge that I’ve seen that went up and down…twice! As my rucksack is wider than my shoulders I had trouble getting past each of the triangles. Thankfully my man looked around and saw my inane struggles, he came back and after unslinging the bag we each held an end.

The hotel (Wisma Leuser Sibayak) started were the bridge stopped (there are loads of different places to stay within the village and further upstream. Prices start from 50,000 and go up to 600,000) and I got the last free room…yippee!

Tuesday

Once the vocalisation of male teenage hormones had finished at around 2am I decided I would “try and get some sleep”, the mosquitoes had other ideas! Waking up bleary eyed before 7am my urge for the sweet nectar of caffeine laced black coffee was overwhelming, two glasses later I was feeling almost human.

The kids making the noise from last night were in fact English language students from Medan on a study tour. I got my own back later…

The village is located on a gentle curve of the river with all of the shops and most of the restaurants on the east bank. Crossing the bridge by my hotel I bimbled upstream checking out all of the small shops, restaurants and THE ROCK BAR!!!!

Now, let’s get back to those pesky kids…

I was chatting to Tony (owner of Tony’s pizzas) outside his shop, when some of the kids (well teenagers really but as I’m almost 40 I’m going to be calling anyone under the age of 21 a kid) came up to me. Each of them had a small booklet in their hands; the less shy one asked if I could sign their book. Turns out, in order to improve their English they had to go out and actually talk with the western tourists. Kids being kids they were just going up to people and saying “hello mister, please sign my book” and not much else. Me, being me, made each of them ask me three questions each and as I usually like to answer a question with a question they had to work hard to earn my signature. By the time I had finished Tony, along with a couple of other shopkeepers were struggling to stop laughing. With looks of relief on their faces I left the kids behind and carried on with my upstream bimble. Very quickly I had left the village behind and strung out along the path were small guest houses, each one more quiet than the last.

30 minutes and 27 students later I reached the end of the path. Workmen were busy repairing the way ahead and as it was hot I found a reason to turn around and retrace my steps.

50m downstream from my hotel is a weir, the main effect this has is to create a large swimming hole. With a lazy breast stroke I could hold my position in the beautifully cold waters. Of course I still had to dodge the out of control blown up inner tubes that everyone was riding down the shallow rapids.

Later during the middle of the afternoon the skies darkened, lightening flashed across the sky and the roar of thunder echoed through the trees. Then it rained…heavily! Within 20 minutes the once clear waters of the river had turned a muddy brown, the pace of the river had doubled and it had risen by a foot. Within an hour the river was unrecognisable to the one I saw in the morning and it had risen even further. After 2 hours the storm abated but the river kept surging well into the night.

In the evening before beers and pizza I went to the hotel front desk and got a mosquito net!

Wednesday

Another early morning…damn you fresh mountain jungle air! At least the mosquito net worked!

The morning looked promising so I picked up my bag and meandered down stream along the riverbank. A few hundred metres later I was in need of a path, I found one lying nearby

The dirt track slightly muddy from yesterday’s downpour skirted along the fringes of the jungle past small holdings, simple huts and houses. A couple of kms wandering led through a small rubber tree plantation and up to a sign for the bat cave (I hadn’t realised that Bruce had moved). So off to the bat cave I went. As I approached the bat cave a man of undeterminably age woke up and leaned forward on his woven mat covered lounge platform, his finger pointing to a sign. For 5000 rupiahs I got to open a gate; it revealed the path to the cave. The steep and slippery mud steps led down to a small path that shortly ended at the mouth of a narrow gulley. Throughout the eons, water had cut a path down through the rock and to make it accessible a couple of wooden ladders made the big gaps crossable. Thankfully there were a myriad of hand holds because I really didn’t trust the wet and slightly rotten wood ladders with my weight (Oi! Less of that)

Just before the entrance I stood and watched but mostly listened to the small troop of monkeys marching across the tree canopy above me. When they had passed by I entered into the cave.

Note so self: it’s been over two years since you put fresh batteries into the torch. Next time don’t leave it so long

My amazingly brilliant lens frogman dive torch is only as good as the batteries what power it. I had a back up torch in the base of my cheap lighter (and some people think that smoking is bad for you….go figure). Inside the now dimly lit cave there wasn’t much to see because it was mostly dark! Light did enter through a sizable hole in one of the small caverns but the light was being filtered by the green of the trees. Leaving the cave I entered back into the light. One path looks pretty much like another and after an hour’s walk zigzagging from path to path I came across a small river. With my shoes off I paddled upstream and around a bend.

The only human making a sound was me, I sat down on the riverbank and listened to the jungle…

Friday

Ever since the early 70’s people have been coming to Bukit Lawang to visit the Orang-Utan rehabilitation centre located near the village within the 9000 square kilometre national park.

I was no exception!

I combined a visit to the centre with a 3 hour jungle walk on the way back, for this you will need a guide. The apes are being rehabilitated back into the wild but twice a day the rangers (and the tourists) go to a feeding platform to give any apes that turn up milk and bananas. The somewhat uninspiring menu is to encourage the orang-utans to forage for themselves.

As I was waiting on the bank of the river for the canoe to ferry me across to the centre on the opposite side I spied my 1st orang-utan. This ape was so mentally scared by years of captivity that it didn’t like the jungle, other apes or any other wildlife. It preferred to hang out down by the river, close to humans and their food! I watched it walk slowly across the grass and up the steps of the park bungalow, where it sat and watched the tourists come up the path.

The trail to the current feeding platform (they are moved every six months or so) was a short, steep and slippery affair. When we arrived the ranger started to “bang the gong” to let the apes know that breakfast was about to be served.

After an anxious 20 minutes wait a solitary orang-utan turned up. Her name was Suma and she is 32 years old and 3 months pregnant. She slowly made her way across the platform, sat down and got comfy. Then she leaned down to take the cup of milk off the ranger. Bananas followed the milk, peeling back the skins on each one with her lips. Several quiet minutes went by as all the tourist just stared at Suma until the nearby call of a male got her excited and she went off in search of him.

Now, with the guide, we slowly walked across the jungle floor trying to follow suma through the trees. She stopped high up in a large tree and as I was standing right beneath her looking up I got a second or two’s warning of the golden shower heading my way. Thankfully I moved just in time. Soon after that we lost track of Suma and so continued on along the trails, passing an amazingly cool and laid back Thomas Leaf monkey on the way.

The tracks through the jungle were steep and muddy. Walking along the ground I was still moving from tree to tree, using vines and roots whenever the going got almost vertical to maintain balance and a “not falling flat on arse” posture.

By the time I got back to the river and the village I was hot, sweaty and happy in the knowledge that three hours of jungle trekking was in fact enough for me. You can, if you want to, go on multi day treks deep into the heart of the jungle, where along with orang-utans, lurk elephants, rhinos and tigers! Or, if you’re fat, lazy with knackered knees you can just relax down by the river. Chances are you’ll find a cold beer very close by!

On Sunday I’m taking the bus to Medan and then the rickshaw or taxi to the airport and in the evening I‘ll be on the Malaysian island of Penang again, maybe in time for the German GP. With any luck the next day, because lets face it Georgetown ain’t all that, I’ll be back on the island of Langkawi. Hopefully I’ll be staying at the Shirin guest house, quaffing beers and gorging on a burger or two at Debbie’s place.

I do this; so you don’t have too….

…By the way you really don’t need to thank me

cabbages and volcanoes

sfau — Fri, 3 Jul 2009 19:47:00 GMT

After spending a week in Tuk Tuk on the island of Samosir it was time to move on. Despite the fact that I never got to fly here I really did enjoy my time.

The 1st bus I was on left from Tomok 5kms away and I was getting a lift there but I didn’t realise that it would be on the back of a scooter. With my fat arse perched on the back seat, my 20 kilo bag was hanging out over the end. On my right shoulder was my day bag loaded down with laptop and cameras. Making me nicely balanced…not! Needless to say the front wheel was very light and the young chap doing the steering looked relived when we finally stopped.

20 minutes later the minibus left and we headed to Pangururan, the capital city of the island, on the other coast. Once there I changed minibuses and it headed off to Berastagi. I, along with 2 other adults and 2 small kids, was on the rear bench seat that was built for three. After 30 minutes or so my arse finally found a position of tolerance on the thinly padded seat that nestled between the two metal bars that kept the seat up. As the bus climbed up the side of the ridge every bump or jolt produced short painful spasms at the base of my ribcage on the right hand side. By the time we reached the main road my tailbone was numb, my right leg that rested half folded up on the wheel arch was starting to ache. Two hours later the numbness and aching was starting to turn into outright pain. Thankfully at that precise moment we stopped for a break….thank F**K for that!

Smoking a fag and trying to walk off my discomfort I heard another shout of “hello mister”. Once again I had to pose for a picture with a young lady; she held on tightly to my waist and rested her head on my shoulder…this never happened to me in England you know! Back on the road and I now had the bench seat to myself. So I was able to get comfy and enjoy the scenery, an hour later I was in Berastagi.

My 1st impression of Berastagi was that it was a “shithole of a town”. Never one to go on 1st impressions I had another look and changed my mind. It was a “f**king shithole of a town!” The reason I came here was to get up close and personal with a volcano or two and I should be able to do that tomorrow and then bugger off anywhere else.

The next day

I woke up early (06:30...I know!!!!) and had to lounge around in the hotel till the people that worked in the travel agents downstairs came in and opened up. Yep, all the doors leading to the outside were locked! I was going to pass some of the time by having a shower, even if it was a cold one (I haven’ had a hot shower since Banting). Sadly the shower didn’t work so I went “Victorian” and poured bucket after bucket of cold water over my head. It was strangely enjoyable! Once the hotel was open I rented a scooter (100,000 rupiahs this time “because the roads go up and down” was the reason given when I asked why it was so much but I am lazy…) and headed to the nearby café for a coffee or two.

There are two volcanoes nearby, both of which are active. I went to the furthest one first.

Passing through villages and cabbage fields (cabbages are Berastagi’s claim to fame. So much so that they have a large sculpture of a cabbage at the end of the main drag in town) the volcano appeared through a large gap in the trees. It looked how all volcanoes should, impressively shaped with clouds of steam rising from the crater at the top. You can walk up and down it in 10 ten hours, allegedly! I meandered along various roads passing monkeys in the trees, coming to a halt whenever I saw the volcano from a differing angle. After a while I looked down and saw the fuel gauge. I had already used up ¾ of a tank. Well lots of time screaming uphill in 2nd gear does tend to use up the petrol a tad. I then decided to head back to Berastagi; I reached the petrol station in the nick of time!

Now with a full tank of gas I headed out of town on the Medan road. Several kilometres later (when DID I stop using miles?) a left turn and a signpost caught my eye and I thought, why not. So I turned left and headed up a small valley towards the hot springs and the second volcano. Four MILES later I passed the hot springs and kept on climbing. To my right loomed the volcano, its serrated edge cut into the blue sky whilst sulphur laden steam belched from a white gash on its green side as if it came from the nostrils of a sleeping dragon. I arrived at a “T” junction and turned right uphill. I saw a gringo couple walking the small road, sweaty from the steep incline. The look on the guys face as I rode by smiling was a keeper. The road was tarmaced all the way and flicking between 1st and 2nd gear I arrived at the “car park”. From there it was a very easy 20 minute walk (and I am a slow walker) up a series of steps and pathways to the crater.

WOW!

As the path left the scrub behind the desolation of the place took hold. In the distance across a rock strewn barren landscape steam erupted from sulphur covered holes, the smell of which was caught on the wind. As I climbed higher I reached the small crater. Only one side remained intact, the stones coloured in places a yellowish green, whilst at the bottom of the shallow crater water had collected covering half of the sandy bottom. The other half was covered in peoples names made from small rocks and pebbles. People sometimes really do have too much time on their hands!

Walking further uphill I reached the edge and looked out over the countryside. From here I could see another four volcanoes off in the distance. The steam belched forth from the nostril of the dragon close by and I caught the taste of the primeval in my mouth. The walk back down to the car park was refreshing as the wind had picked up. I spent several minutes watching the clouds develop on the peak of the volcano across the valley.

Berastagi is no longer considered a “f**king shit hole of a town”. It has been upgraded to a “complete dump of a place”. However once you leave the city limits its beautiful…

Tomorrow I’ll be off to a place that doesn’t have roads and I may even get to see my long lost brother!

blue waters

sfau — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 19:46:00 GMT

After spending 1.5 million on Batik paintings, Jake from Café Bagoes said he would drive me to the bus depot in Bukittinggi. Following lunch (I had fried buffalo jerky and rice…nice!) he dropped me of at 4pm. Three hours later the bus finally turned up.
I had an isle seat, a very special isle seat. The thing that kept the reclining seat in a certain position was broken. Whenever the bus accelerated or went up a hill the seat would lean backwards. Therefore whenever the bus went downhill or braked, yep that’s right, the seat went forward! The narrow roads in west Sumatra are a slave to the terrain. Lots of steep hills and narrow valleys. After two hours of going forwards and backwards in the chair the guy behind me “finally realised” that I wasn’t doing it for his amusement or mine and so stopped forcibly pushing my chair upright every time it went back. I could have told him it was broken but this was much more fun! At 5am, ten hours into the journey we stopped for breakfast (three fags and a yawn!) and it took a few minutes for my legs to remember how to operate.

Arriving at 10am in a deserted bus yard in the town of Parapat on the shores of Lake Toba, a mini van appeared and took me to the ferry 2kms away. Once on board the ferry the whiteys were me, two German lads and a young English couple. Jake from Maninjau had already recommended a place to stay (Samosir Cottages) so I just chatted to the guy from there who was touting for business. He got the Germans to come along but the English couple made it quite clear that they weren’t getting involved with touts and would find there own place to stay thank you very much!

The place to stay on the (almost) island of Samosir is Tuk Tuk, a small village completely covering a kidney shaped piece of land protruding out into the waters of Lake Toba. All the hotels on the shore have their own jetties so it was 45 minutes till I reached my destination.

After being shown the nicest room available (100,000 rupiahs or £5.88) we slowly got down to my price per night, which is 50,000 (that evening I was starting to wonder if “saving” 90p a night by not having hot water was worth it!) I dropped the bags on the floor and made my way to the “shrine of coffee” that was the restaurant.

Back in my room I made use of the solitary plug socket (the place in Maninjau didn’t have one) and with my laptop on, music playing I lied down on the bed and dozed the rest of the day away. Come the evening, came my appetite and I had a few beers as well.

The next morning I woke up, yawned whilst looking at my watch and said to myself “7am is far too early to get out of bed” so I went back to sleep. A couple of hours later it was 9am, now that is a better time for breakfast.

An hour later I was on a scooter heading up the slope to take off. No, I wasn’t flying but I wanted to check it out. That and check out places to land as well. Turns out its sweet, lots of places to land along the length of the ridge even during the rice growing season. Now all I needed was the wind to arrive…

As I had the scooter for the entire day I decided to ride around the island. I made my way upwards along the road passing the work crew and the last of the freshly laid tarmac! The road leading to the end of the island was a good lesson in road construction. After the tarmac came compacted hardcore followed by compacted soil. This was followed by un-compacted or loose hardcore…that bit was fun! All the while as I travelled along the “road” if I looked to my left I would see the blue waters of Lake Toba and to my right paddy fields, open pasture and woodland. Several kilometres later I was back on tarmac, well kind of. Imagine a road of potholes linked together by slivers of tarmac! Eventually I reached the end of the road and the southernmost point of the island. The high ridge had given way to flat land.

Continuing on my circular route I slowly passed people “dressed to the nines”. I was wondering why this was until I passed a church and remembered it was a Sunday morning. It also explains why I was able to have fried pig for breakfast. Now, you can say what you like about the Christian faith but at least they let you have bacon with your fried eggs!

As I turned right and headed up the west coast, the road became more tarmac than pothole. Passing through small villages with traditional style houses (although nearly all of them had an extension built onto the back), lazy dogs and suicidal chickens. The softly sloping landscape was in complete contrast to the east coast and the dominating high ridge.

The north of the island has the best road, it is also twisty…

When I got back to the hotel I was chatting away to one of the staff about flying. For some reason the take off site I saw didn’t look like the one on the internet. Turns out there are two take off sites…Doh!

Monday

Two coffees and four fags! Now that’s a breakfast for the legally dependant drug addict!

For the third day the weather was no good for flying, you do need some wind to take off. Instead I decided that I would once again hire a scooter and go up to take off, this time the one on top of the ridge! Once on the ridge I was trying to find the right road, you would think that with only two roads to choose from and the fact that I was on one of them it would be easy. Turns out the dirt track I had gone passed was the “road”! Going along the track the dirt soon gave way to misplaced cobbles and mud. Juggling speed, sideways movement and puddles of unknown depth I came to a fork in the road, I went left (in hindsight going right may of taken me to the take off site…Doh!). Passing through woodland the road condition unbelievably deteriorated! Several kilometres later the wonder of tarmac appeared around a corner and I was able to stop the bike and get off without getting my feet stuck in the mud. The once clean bike wasn’t anymore, the exhaust was covered in mud and the frame hinted at the colour it was.

In the middle of the island is a small lake. I saw three of them…???

Somewhere in the middle of the island on a once tarmac covered road I stopped and watched a raptor circling in an impossibly small thermal only metres wide. By the time I had taken my camera out it had plummeted to the ground hidden by the long grass before taking off again with a small mammal in its claws.

A couple of hours later I had traversed the interior of the island and had made it to the other side. Crossing over the bridge I left the island behind and travelled a few miles to the hot springs…why?

Back on the island I opened up the throttle and sped along the road I had already travelled the day before. This time I knew what was around the corners! Coming around the northern shore I noticed that not only was the wind blowing a gale it was also coming from the north. NO, NO, NO!!! I want a medium strength consistent wind coming from the east, is that too much to ask for!

Tuesday

Woke up and accepted the fact that there wasn’t a breath in the sky…

Wednesday

Ditto!

Thursday

Throughout the night it rained whilst lightening streaked across the dark sky. As I drifted off to sleep I dreamt of taking off

I awoke to clear blue skies and once again no wind. After a long and lazy break of fast the wind picked up, perfect conditions for flying but only if the wind would stop blowing from the north and move around by 90 degrees and come from the east…it never did!

Following yesterday’s lounge act I thought that once again I would do “something”. So once again I was back on a scooter (75000 rupiahs with a full tank of gas) and headed north to the other side of the island. I went over the bridge and headed south leaving the island of Samosir behind. Riding along the headland the road turned inland. Five or six kilometres later I had a choice. Carry on with the main road and the dirt or turn right and go uphill on tarmac. Tough choice….not!

The smaller side road wound its way uphill passing through a few small villages until I came to a stop. The road was blocked by a small landslide and a JCB that was removing it. After a 15 minute wait chatting with the locals the build up of traffic was finally allowed to pass. Over the rise I saw an even smaller road leading off upwards, sweet!

This road was narrow and under used. It was also a very long time ago that it had been tarmaced. Around several corners the bike was screaming in 1st gear as I bounced off rocks and rubble, the back tyre jumping around as I weaved a course that was the least damaging to the bike and me! (My ribs no longer hurt but I am still getting painful muscle spasms in between the ribs on occasion. A lesser man would be in hospital to recover but I try to be brave and not go on and on about it)The road became narrower and narrower as the plants on either side encroached. The views, however, were wide and majestic.

An hour later I was back in the valley, riding along paddy fields and through hamlets and villages with the usual shouts of “hello mister” as I passed by.

Friday

I brought a bus ticket to somewhere else and I’m leaving Tuk Tuk in the morning. Hopefully I will be able to sit on the roof!

In a hole

sfau — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 19:44:00 GMT

I arrived at Lake Maninjau on a Sunday. For 3 days it rained! My day was spent thus: wake up and walk to café bagoes at around 10am. Sit, read, eat and then leave at around 10pm. Lazy days and lounging nights. I was averaging around 3 books a day.

Lake Maninjau is found near the west coast of the Indonesian island of Sumatra. Many years ago the volcano blew up leaving a large caldera. This filled with water and thus Lake Maninjau was formed. It is 17kms long, 8 kms wide and the road that circuits it is 70kms long.

The main reason I came here was to fly. The take off site was 1250 metres above sea level perched on the crater rim 5 kilometres from the small village of Lawang Top. To get to take off 1st you took a local bus to Mantur. This involved 44 hairpin corners on the road up the side of the crater rim. Once at Mantur I took a mini van the few kilometres to Lawang top. After that it was a 5 kilometre walk or on the second occasion a quick pillion ride on the back of a small scooter to the edge of the crater.

The views were just beautiful, the lake shimmering in the sunshine as the clouds were reflected of the surface. In the distance through a small gap in the crater wall you could see the Indian Ocean.

At take off I was all by myself as long as I didn’t include the 30 or so teenage school boys who kept on giving me helpful shouts of encouragement like “go on mister” and “don’t crash mister” and the 15 or so adults looking on with cameras ready. This was the 1st time that I had flown anywhere new by myself. Nervous…you bet! At take off the edge of the lake was 800m down and 3 kilometres away. Looking across the view I was trying to find somewhere suitable to land. June is in the middle of the rice growing season so there wasn’t a great deal of choice. I spotted two landing areas that “looked” okay and then I took off…

The take off was good and I turned to the left, if I had turned right I might not have enough height to clear the electrical wires going from pylon to pylon down the side of the crater. The views were great and the flying was smooth, enjoyable and I had the sky to myself. After a while I decided to head out towards the lake and land. Going across the two “landing sites” I decided that maybe I should have looked at bit closer before I leaped…

I was about 400m above the fields when I found myself a landing site that didn’t have wires going across it. It did however have trees at either end and 30m behind it electrical cables strung out between the pylons. So it looked like I would have to lose the height above the landing site…time to concentrate!

My last turn was a little tight and so I came in a little faster than I would of liked but being a lazy bastard I couldn’t be arsed to run off the speed so I rolled instead. Trust me it’s a lot safer!

The following day I needed to go to Bukittinggi and the atm (there isn’t one here in Maninjau). I spent 4 hours walking around the town and I didn’t feel the urge to get my camera out once. I did however buy a very nice shirt! For the 1st time in my life I am a multi millionaire. Walking around with a 1000000 in your wallet is great, even if it is less than £100.

The next day was the day that had to happen sooner or later…I smacked!

I was at launch for about two hours trying to take off. Each time the wing came up it just didn’t feel right, or the wing wasn’t really inflated properly. In the end I did manage to take off. After 30 seconds I knew that my head wasn’t “right” and so I decided to come into land. The approach was fine and I made my final turn, about 10m off the ground when a gust of wind picked me up 20m and held me there (well it has got 8km journey over the water to get here). Damn…I knew that I would have to turn to lose the height or crash into the trees at the end of the LZ. So I made a tight 90 degree turn to the left, quickly followed by an even tighter 120 degree turn to the right. Heading downwind I made a very tight turn to get back over the LZ and come into land. I came in very fast, flaring as hard as I could. It wasn’t enough! I hit the ground hard and rolled 3 or 4 times. On the 1st roll my right kidney and ribcage got close and personal with a pointy rock peaking up through the grass. I came to a halt, on all fours with my mouth open gasping for air. When I finally stood up wincing in pain I noticed that the wind had whipped up the water and now the entire lake was covered in whitecaps…word to the wise, landing in a force 3 wind isn’t good.

It was 6km back to the guest house and no way was I walking there. Instead I got a life on the back of a motor bike. Every time we hit a bump I winced in pain. This is Indonesia so there were many bumps on the road.

Five days later and all is nearly well. I haven’t flown since partly because I’m not fully fit, the weather has been overdeveloping early on in the day but most importantly there is a small part of me that is a little bit scared to land!

In two days time I am leaving Lake Maninjau and spending 15 hours on overnight bus to Lake Toba. Hope the landing sites are better there than here!

Crossing the line

sfau — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 19:43:00 GMT

The ferry from Melaka left on time and within two hour it was halfway across the straits of Malacca. As it approached the Indonesian island of Sumatra the once blue sky turned hazy and slightly brown. (At this time of year forest fires “happen” reducing the visibility and the air quality)
Nearing the industrial city port of Dumai, oil tankers plied their trade in the swirling muddy waters whilst the lone old styled fishing vessel bobbed and heaved in the various wakes.

Custom clearance was easy and the $25 30 day visa on arrival was a simple purchase. Outside a small group of bus touts asked where I wanted to go. Not really feeling a need to spend a night in Dumai (who would!) I instead arranged a bus to Bukittinggi. The tout said it would leave at 4pm and arrived at 11pm. A small voice in the back of my head said “yeah right!”

After hanging around for 3 hours it was on the bus, glad that my legs are only 30 inches in length on a tall day. I tilted the chair back and relaxed, well as much as possible! Over 13 hours, countless potholes and with a large bump on the side of my head later I was dropped off on a deserted street corner that I assumed was Bukittinggi! It was and I was knackered…it was 5:30am the next day!

At some point during the early morning I had crossed the line and was now south of the equator!

90 minutes later after many, many, many hairpin turns I was next to Lake Maninjau in café bagoes having a very strong coffee. I booked myself into a nearby guest house on the edge of the lake and went to sleep three times during the day.

Maninjau used to be busy with tourist, its not anymore which is a shame. A bigger shame was the low cloud obscuring the rim of this caldera…no flying today.

Come the evening and I (once again) felt like a beer and as it turned out the Spanish round of the Moto gp was on….

Question: my bag weighs 20 kilos, it is heavy! Just over two years ago I used to weigh 20 kilos more than I do now. Therefore why is my bag heavy?

On the road to Melaka

sfau — Mon, 1 Jun 2009 19:39:00 GMT

After 17 nights I finally managed to “escape” the Shirin guest house, the red tomato café and Debbie’s bar at Cenang beach, Langkawi.
For the expense of RM125 (£22.30) I flew to Kuala Lumpur and back to the same guest house I had previously stayed in. For 3 days and nights I lounged…it was good!

On the 4th day I walked the 500m to the mono rail (with my way too heavy bag on my back) and climbed on board. After 2 stops I changed my carriage and went by train for two stops, then changed again for one more stop, got out and walked out of the station across the road to the bus station, twenty minutes later I was on my way to Banting.

The non- descript town of Banting isn’t found in any tourist guide, the reason being that there is absolutely nothing tourist here worth seeing. However it is the closest town to the launch site at Jugra Hill. Getting off at the bus station I had the choice of two hotels nearby. One was Hotel City and the other was Comfort Hotel (.com.my). The Comfort Hotel was nearer and as it had just opened it had a special offer, a standard room for only RM60 (£10.70) per night…bargain. In the evening once it had cooled down a little bit I went for a walk around the main part of town, 20 minutes later I was finished!

The next morning, with my glider on my back, I went to the bus station to get a local bus to near take off. Unfortunately there are no local buses to take off but a man with a car (notice how I didn’t use the word taxi) offered to drive the 15kms for only RM20, this price was reached after haggling!

The take off at Jugra hill is a bumpy steep but grassed and it stands 125m above sea level. It has a row of covered benches that shield you from the sun whilst the views stretch out to the sea some 10kms away. I arrived there at 10am and by 2pm I had had enough of “parawaiting” for the wind to die down. Walking down the hill I was looking forward to the 15km walk back to Banting under the hot afternoon malaysian sun. after 7kms I had stopped “looking forward” to the walk and was just trudging along one foot in front of the other when a car pulled up and offered my a lift back into town…yippee!!!!!!!

The next morning I was outside the hotel, breakfast in hand, looking at the clouds speeding across the sky…bugger! It was then I decide to cut my losses and get a bus to Melaka…I took the long way!

At the bus station in Banting I found out that I would have to travel Melaka via an interesting route.

Take the bus to the kuala lumpur international airport

As the bus approached the airport terminal an inviting image flashed across my mind…it was me standing at an airline ticket office asking for a flight to somewhere that was at least 15 degrees colder

Take the bus Nilai

No, I have no idea where this town was but it went around some interesting houses

Take the train to Seremban

It was only 3 stops on the commuter train and it took about 30 minutes. Inside the carriages the humans were packed like sardines in a tin

Take the bus to Tampin

It was a long 5 minute walk from the train station to the bus station. The only bus that went direct to Melaka wasn’t leaving for another 3 hours…so it was on the local bus to someplace nearer.

Take the bus to Melaka

Arriving at Tampin there was just enough time to have a fag before getting on another local bus to Melaka; it went the long way round via the traffic jams!

Take a taxi to the hotel

I finally arrived at the travellers lodge several hours after leaving Banting. I was tired but the cold shower was the refreshment I needed!

The town of Melaka, in the international language of trade, has been a complete whore! She has been used by the Chinese, the Portuguese, the Dutch, and the British and various others. She sits at the narrowest point in the straits of Melaka and has a sheltered port. So now you know why!

Like Georgetown on the island of Penang Melaka is a world heritage listed town. Unlike Georgetown, I can see why. The centre of the old town is called the Dutch square. It’s not a square but there is a little windmill! Nearby is china town, little India and on the seafront just outside of the old town is Portuguese square.

In the evening I went for a walk down by the river and ended up in a little bar near the bridge. The rickshaw drivers were out in force peddling along the streets, their draped disco lights blinking on and off but never in time with the cheesy pop music that blared out of small tinny battery powered speakers.

The next morning (Sunday the 7th of June) I explored china town, the air conditioned shopping malls and then the cinema where I watched the latest terminator movie. During the heat of the late afternoon I relaxed in the “sitting room” of the hostel reading a book. Around 8pm, after a siesta, I was online via my laptop checking out the football result from the day before (nice one En-ger-land) and wondering what time the f1 race started. Leaning over the balcony I got my answer….about 10 minutes ago!! I rushed out of the hostel and headed to the street restaurant across the road.

Now its Monday and when I leave here I should be going by ferry…but as to when I leave, who knows?

Heather Nova part two

sfau — Fri, 15 May 2009 19:38:00 GMT

Three hours from the island of Penang by ferry is the island of Langkawi, the duty free island of Langkawi!

Q: what does that mean Andrew?
A: amongst other things is that a pint of beer only costs 10RM…happy happy drunken nights!!!!

I rocked up at the main island beach place thingy and got me a nice little aircon chalet for only 35RM (which is just under £7 a night) by some bizarre coincidence it’s only 40m from Debbie’s place an “Irish pub”. Honestly I don’t plan these things!!!!!

So I got here on Friday afternoon and the weekend was spent thus

Wake up around 10am
Have breakfast at midday
Spend the afternoon reading a book, or lounging on the bed with the a/c on max
In the evening, sit in the pub, drink lots of beer and watch football

I also went shopping! Next to the underwater world complex (complete with penguins…if I go there I’ll tell you all about it) are a couple of duty free shops selling high end gear. Needing a new pair of sunglasses and not wanting to buy a cheap pair of knock off’s (with zero UV filtering) I went inside. After trying on several pairs I settled on a pair of Bolle, lightweight with rubber grips (so they won’t slide down my nose). I asked the price and I think my brain must have been fried by the sun because I still brought them. I now have a pair of sunglasses that I need to wear everyday for the next decade to justify the purchase

Debbie’s Place:

There are only four things wrong with this pub

1) Staff saying hello

Helllooooooowelcomehaveaseeaat

2) Staff saying goodbye

Thankyoubyeeeeecomeagaindon’tbenaughtynaughtyit’sstillearly

Both said high pitched insincere fashion, you know, like Americans do.

3) Having a meal

The food is great here but just when you’ve taken a mouthful a member of staff looms into view to ask if you are enjoying your meal…wouldn’t it be obvious???

4) Drinking beer

You’ve got an inch of beer left and a member of staff comes over and asks you if you would like another beer. You answer “not just yet”, a minute later another member of staff comes over and asks the same question!

Mind you the boss spends all night sitting by the till. Maybe she’s told the staff that times are hard and maybe she will have to reduce staff numbers. So they are all being super proactive in a customer service kinda way.

As I don’t work 40 hours a week or spend several hours a week commuting to and from work I need something to whinge about, otherwise I wouldn’t be English. Lets face it I can’t whinge about the weather….everyday is the same….hot and sunny!!!!!

On a Tuesday I hired a little scooter and headed towards a cable car some 15kms away. I didn’t bother with a map as it’s impossible to get lost on a small island. I found out later that nothing is impossible!!!
Arriving at the cable car I saw a big sign with the word closed on it. Damn you routine maintenance schedule. Oh well, another time I said to myself as I jumped back on board my two wheeled chariot.

I sped all over the island looking at the low and high points. I got back to my hut in the late afternoon and did what I’ve been doing since I got here.

On Friday it was a case of déjà vu as I rode a scooter (this time with shockingly bad brakes that made cornering interesting) back to the cable car. This time it was open! It took a quiet five minutes to reach the top, 700m above the sea. From the viewing platforms the whole of Langkawi Island could be seen along with many of the other 98 islands that make up this little place. The views were impressive, the cloud base was no higher than 800m and clouds were strung out across the vistas of land and sea, covering peaks and hiding islands in the distance.

From there I rode the long way around the island to Kuah, the capital. I stopped of halfway for a gander and spent several satisfying minutes practising doughnuts in a deserted gravel covered car park. When I finally got to Kuah I went to the office of East Marine diving and booked a days diving for tomorrow.

In the early morning (yes 8:20am is the early morning for me) I got picked up by the courtesy minibus and headed to the royal yacht club in Kuah. As there were only 4 divers and the same amount of snorkelers we used the small boat. Leaving the harbour behind the twin 200 horsepower engines bolted on the back of the boat opened up and within 45 minutes we had arrived at the Pulau Payar marine park some 19kms away from Langkawi Island. Ditching the snorkelers on the beach we headed off to the 1st dive site. Within minutes we were there and shortly after that I plunged into the blue. Being a marine park it has a no fishing policy so this meant that there were a shed load of fish around. Moving with the gentle current I passed healthy coral hard and soft, all swarming with fish. From large groupers to those tiny little incandescent blue fish whose name I’ve forgotten. On several occasions I looked underneath me to see several rainbow wrasse swimming within inches of me. One even came up and head butted my mask….that was a 1st!

The surface interval was spent on the beach. The snorkelers, mostly Japanese, were going crazy with delight from feeding the hundreds of fish

The second dive was around a small outcrop of green, football field in size. The wildlife was pretty much the same as the 1st dive. After a while we left the coral behind and headed out across the sand. Within a few metres of leaving the coral behind a trigger fish came off the bottom to say hello. If you dive, you know what happens next!!! 8 seconds of frantic on my back fining and I was safe, much to the amusement of my dive buddies!!! We continued across the sand until we came to a couple of wrecks. These were two boats that had been caught fishing in the marine park so the authorities sunk them to create an artificial reef…and so people like me would be kept happy.

I’m still not sure when I will be leaving here….

Some of the books I’ve read whilst I’ve been here

The year of living biblically by A.J. Rouke
Devil may care by Stephen Faulkes writing as Ian Fleming
Isle of dogs by Patricia Cornwell
Deception point by Dan brown
Island of the sequinned love nun by Christopher Moore
Who’s the B*****d in the black by Jeff winter
Sniper one by Sergeant Dan Mills
Tourist season and double whammy both by Carl Hiaasen

Heather Nova part one

sfau — Mon, 11 May 2009 19:37:00 GMT

I arrived on the island of Penang not in George Town as I was told when I brought the ticket the day before but at a bus station some place else. Ignoring the bleating of the various taxi drivers I stood in line and waited for bus 401 to arrive and take me the 8km into the centre of George Town

(The four hour ride from Kuala Lumpur was easy and the coach was the most comfortable one I’ve ever been on. There were only 3 seats across and each one was a cheap knock off of a lazy boy chair!)

George Town was an outpost of the East Indian Company and then even more English people turned up. The guy that 1st arrived and set up camp had a son who in turn went on to found another town, it’s called Adelaide in Australia

The old city centre is now world heritage listed and comprises of a china town, a little India and lots of small terraced shops lining the streets. There is a distinct lack of pavements. Dotted around the town are various “local government” buildings from the 1800’s and of course a fort complete with canons!

I’m staying on the main gringo street in a room that can only really be described as a cubicle. There is a staircase from street level that leads to a large 1st floor landing that doesn’t go anywhere else. So what to do with the space? Install several cubicles for us single travellers to stay in….great?

Later on in the early evening I was enjoying a cold beer when I saw that at the next table was someone who looked just like the paedophile Garry Glitter…maybe it was him, maybe not. If it wasn’t then the guy really should consider changing his “look”!

In the morning I got on a bus to get on a train. The bus dropped me off in the small town of Air Hitam. After a 10 minute walk around I headed to the train station.

Now, in Penang, it’s hot and you know how much the English like their hill stations….

Penang hill is just over 800m above sea level and it used to be the place where the island’s governor lived. In the late 1800’s a vehicular railway was built from the valley to the top. However they got the gradient wrong and the steam engine couldn’t cope. In the early 1900’s they got the Swiss involved and by the 1920’s it was al working.

The ride up was in 2 stages and by the time I got to the top the temperature had dropped by 10 degrees, so it was a cool 29 at the top…lovely!
On the top of the mountain there is a Hindu temple, a mosque, a hotel or two and some tourist tat stands. You can, if you like have a cream tea (yes you can!!!) complete with scones, thick cream and fresh strawberries…and no, I didn’t

Interesting fact number 175: the top of Penang hill was levelled off to enable even more strawberry cultivation back in the 1800’s.

On my last day on the island of Penang I got on a bus to the end of the line. There was a village…I walked around it and then got back on the bus to George Town.

If, unlike me, you don’t have much time in Malaysia give the island of Penang a miss!

Windsor Davies

sfau — Thu, 7 May 2009 19:37:00 GMT

Arriving at the international airport for Kuala Lumpur meant a 70km taxi ride into town. It took over an hour and I really should have had a fag before I got into the taxi.

I’m staying in the “Golden Triangle” part of the city which is the main nightlife and entertainment area. I found out later on in the evening that beer is more expensive than London. I never thought that would be possible but it is!

Kuala Lumpur is a busy city and it ain’t half hot!!! So my sight seeing was almost zero. I mean it has a couple of large office blocks and some shops, which as they are mostly in malls means they are air conditioned, so that’s nice

After a few exchanges of emails I was fortunately able to arrange a life to the local paragliding site. Early on Saturday morning I met up with Azhar at his place for the two hour ride to the site near the town of Bahau. Along the way we picked up 2 other members of the KLFF (Kuala Lumpur free flyers) one of whom was actually in Nepal when I was there but strangely we never bumped into each other.

It was my 1st experience of “parawaiting” but after 5 hours and one aborted take off which resulted in me almost being impaled by a piece of wood sticking up out of the ground I finally got into the air. It was my 1st real time ridge soaring and I liked it. Small thermals occasionally popped up and gave lift but most of the time it was smooth flowing air keeping you up as I went along the ridge. After about 30 minutes I hit sink and bombed out…BOO!!! The landing site for when this happens in at the bottom of the ridge and is right next to the electrical pylons…mmm. The landing was up and down on the approach but thanks too lots of practise when I was in Nepal I landed safely…yippee!!

The guys from KLFF are a great bunch of guys and they are keen to develop the area (when the government gives them the money) into “the site” for paragliding in Malaysia.

I got back to the hostel at 21:30, which gave me just enough time to have a shower and a change of clothes before making the short walk to the green man pub, the barstool and the football on the wide screen television.

For the rest of my time here I did something that I haven’t done for a while…absolutely nothing at all!

brass monkey

sfau — Sat, 2 May 2009 19:36:00 GMT

Before I gave the scooter back I decided to have one last blast on the road.

But where to go?

The answer, for once, came from the guide book. About 100km away was Doi Inthanon, the highest point in Thailand shooting up to just over 2500 metres above sea level.

For 60kms I was on a busy dual carriage way, weaving past pick ups, trucks and the usual badly steered bikes and scooters that appeared suicidal out of the side streets. The last 40k, after I had paid 120 baht to enter the national park, was relaxingly green and quiet.

As the road climbed upwards towards the summit, the hot air of the valley was replaced by ever increasing cooler air. Riding through the mist that slowly swirled amongst the tree canopy I arrived at the top. There was a car park, a sign proclaiming where I was and lots of cloud. So, the views were non existent but it really didn’t matter.

A while later I decided to head back down the mountain. I got about 1000 metres before it started to rain. I sought shelter under a tree on the roadside and waited. The raindrops slowly dripped down through the leaves and branches and then onto me. I was wet and I was actually starting to feel a little bit chilly!! Twenty minutes later the rain stopped so I got back on board, shuddered as my arse got wet from the seat and pressed the start button.

Going slow (the tyres weren’t what you would call “full wets”) and keeping upright around the corners I descended. A couple of miles down the road was a small café. By the time I got there I was soaked!!!! It was after all only a short gap between the downpours.

Hot coffee was being held in my cold wet hands and as small drops of water ran off the top of my bald head I was shocked to find myself with a sniffle. The café was having a BBQ outside, complete with umbrella, how very English I thought to myself. An hour later, blue sky came and said hello in a small portion of the sky. I took this as a sign it was time to leave.

Back on the bike and after 5 minutes I was having trouble keeping it under control. It wasn’t due to the tyres but due to the fact that I was shivering uncontrollably. My legs and arms weren’t under my authority. The flesh not covered by my damp t shirt and shorts were covered in goose bumps and if I went over 25kms the wind chill factor increased the shivering spasms in my arms to a point where I thought I would lose control and steer myself into the ditch. As I slowly progressed down the steep road it gradually became well not warm but definitely less cold until eons later the road became dry and the temperature was on the right side of 30!

I completely warmed up next to a pretty waterfall with another cup of Joe. Then it was an hour’s ride back to Chiang Mai, in the heat of the valley…happy days!

Two Wheels good

sfau — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 19:35:00 GMT

Day One

Waking up after only six hours sleep and with a hangover delayed the start of this little adventure. By 10am I was ready to hop onboard my trusty steed and hit the road. It was only 106km to the target destination but it took me over 4 hours to get there.

The reason are:

a) The road was tight, twisty and steep
b) Exactly how many times do I have to mention that despite having a big fat arse it doesn’t mean I want to sit on it for long periods of time!

The road to Mae Hong Son was a thing of beauty to those on two wheels. Each bend in the road led to a curve which in turn led to a tight hairpin. Double apexes followed switchbacks and the road was quiet and well maintained. The landscape that I passed was fabulous, steep ridges of tree covered rock formed tight narrow valleys into which I would not dare to go into alone. Small hamlets came and went the size of which was dependant on the success of the rice harvest and the number of fields they could make from the rugged landscape.

I arrived in Mae Hong Son in the afternoon and after a quick tour of the town found a hostel near the centre. The centre of town was a large tank full of overfed and pampered fish. On the southern side a small complex of Wats, all shiny in gold and mirrors. On the northern edge was a small park with people doing Tai Chi as the sunset.

I wasn’t feeling that hungry so I just had sweet sausage salad. 87 minutes later I saw it again as my stomach ejected its contents into the toilet bowl. I spent the rest of the evening lying sweaty on the bed or feeling weak in the bathroom.

Day Two

I woke early and spent a while making sure that all was right with the world of me. By 07:15 I was on the road and heading south.

It was 400kms to the next place of call, the town of Mae Sot. IT WAS FUN!!!!

The road map of Thailand that I am using is the one in the guide book. As such, it lacks a lot of detail. For a 200km stretch there were no towns marked on the map, as my fuel tank held enough petrol for only 100-150km depending on how hard I was canning it, I guessed that there would be.
After leaving the town of Mae Sariang it was a 150km ride to the next town, I had a full tank of gas but would it be enough?

To say that this road is underused would be stating the obvious. After one hour of tight turns and steep gradients I saw 4 cars and 2 bikes. As the kilometre markers reduced the numbers so did the fuel in my tank. With 20k to go the needle had hit the end of the red and stopped moving…mmm. After holding my breath for 20kms I came across the petrol station, surfing on the fumes. The petrol station consisted of 3 drums of fuel, a hand pump and no sign! I almost missed which if I had you’d be reading about how a grown man sat down on the side of the road and cried.

Now, with a full tank and a road that had more straights than curves I opened up the throttle and let the mighty 115cc engine roar!!!!
The town of Mae Sot is 3kms from the Thai-Burma friendship bridge which straddles the border. Like a lot of border towns it has a used and somewhat sleazy air to it, me likes! I’m staying in the Ban Thai guess house and it’s great. My room has a cool view, wood panelled walls, free wifi and a very large but soft towel. Let me tell you about the towel, it’s not for drying yourself after a shower it’s for sleeping on…think about it! The room also has a floor standing fan, which is the kind you want. Placed at the end of the bed and set on the low setting equals a cool and relaxing nights sleep

Day Three
It was raining when I woke up and continued for 4 more hours. As my tyres are not kind to inspire grip in the wet I lounged the day away.

Day Four
It was a 175km ride to Sukhothai and the road climbed up into the mountains. Slowly I overtook Lorries belching out black smoke as the heart of the truck struggled to beat fast enough. Screaming down the other side singing the uphill song, fingers twitching over the brake handles ready to respond in an instant when the corner did indeed become tighter than I had guessed. Then I was out in the open and on a plain. Neglected paddy fields interspaced with trees carried on out of sight either side of the flat straight road.
In case, like me, you were wondering how fast the bike went in a straight line the answer is 105km or 120km if you are drafting behind a truck. I have no idea what the speed limit is here but there are no speed cameras!
By the early afternoon I was in Sukhothai and at the 4th attempt I found a place to stay. It’s called TR guest house and is just across the river from the night market, behind the bank. As the night market is close by I’ll be snacking later but not on cockroaches or deep fried crunchy baby terrapins. If however there are lizards on a stick then count me in!

Day Five
The only reason to come to the town of Sukhothai is to visit the city of Sukhothai. Unlike the town the city is interesting. It was the first capital the Thai’s had before being superseded by Ayutthaya further south a few hundred years later.
The old capital is square with three defensive walls and two moats surrounding it. The only remains still standing are the numerous temples. All the other buildings from palaces to houses were built from wood and have left no trace. The central area is undeveloped by modern man and is peaceful and serene, with ruined temples set against a backdrop of lakes and trees.
Come the late morning I was back on the road for the 70k or so ride north to the ruined city of Si Satchanalai. This place was almost deserted of tourists; the large open area it covers is best traversed on two wheels. The small roads meander through the trees and grassland connecting the various temples on the way.
I was climbing up some temple steps when a sudden malevolent movement made me instinctively react. The snake was about three foot long, thin, mean and green and I have no idea what kind of snake it was! I respected its space and it went on its way, which was luckily away from me.
I came back to “new” Sukhothai by a different route (which I’ll admit wasn’t by design) and so I will never know what the tourist attraction of “Rocky Ground” actually was…damn it!

Day Six
I left Sukhothai at 8am and got to the town of Nan at around 2pm, my tailbone was aching towards the end.
The ride itself was split into thirds, with the middle third a very boring but fast dual carriageway. The road form Sukhothai to Pheare was cool, flat with gentle curves. I was taking it easy cruising along at 60kph still smiling at the fact that I had remembered last night it had been two years without having to go to work. The last 120kms were really nice after I had taken shelter from a passing shower. In the mountains I was trying to dodge the flocks of mating butterflies that swarmed out of the trees and into the paths of trucks, cars and my head…sorry!
The town of Nan is…well imagine Slough, scaled down. Add a river and several temples and make it all just a little bit cleaner and you’d be about there. Due to the fact that there are 30 days in April and not 31 (Doh!) I am only staying here the night, which is about all I would want to do anyway.

Day Seven
After an early to bed restful night’s sleep I was up at 4am…sod that! Waking up later at around 7am I was on the road by eight.
To get to Chiang Rai I needed to be on route 1148. I could neither see a sign for the destination or the road, so instead I went on a road that looked like it was heading in the right direction. An hours easy cruising later the road bisected route 1148 (I’m lucky like that) and so I turned left and rode my scooter “chopper style” enjoying the views as I went. The road slithered its way into the mountains like a lazy snake with slow and easy rhythmic curves. At a couple of points it was reduced to a single track, the cause were landslides. The sun was out, the clouds were making interesting shapes in the sky and my tan lines were getting more defined…damn I have a hard life!
By the middle of the afternoon I was in Chiang Rai and I got a cheap room just of “bar street“.

Day Eight
It was an easy but boring ride to Chiang Mai and the end of this road trip but only because I took the wrong road….

Iron Maiden

sfau — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 19:34:00 GMT

I had a cunning plan to escape the heat of Chiang Mai; run to the hills and the small village of Pai. It was an easy 3.5 hour mini bus ride to get there and as we headed into the mountains the heat dropped. Unfortunately the village of Pai is in a valley and is just as hot! It is quite nice mind you. I found myself a place to stay and then went for a wander around. It has 3 main streets and lots of soi or side streets as the Thai’s call them. After about 20 minutes I had seen all that there was to see. Time for a siesta!!!

In the evening I ended up in a bar (where else did you think I would be) and hanged out with some of the local long stayers from England. The Essex girl that runs the place showed her true class. As she was bringing my bottle of beer to the table, she tripped over the dog and headed to the floor. Now, she may of broken two bones in her foot but she didn’t spill a drop of my beer!

The next day I was up early and as my room only had a ceiling fan slightly moist. After coffee and the usual I headed out of the village for a bimble. 3 hours later I was back at my room lame! The side of my right foot was going ouch. I really didn’t do too much for the rest of the day. In the evening I went and had a roast dinner at the pub (it’s called the Pai corner in case you ever come here) and for the 1st time in 53 weeks I had roast potatoes…and yes I have been counting!

My last day in Pai saw me rent a little twist and go scooter. I headed out along the highway to a national park some 50kms away, followed by a less than impressive waterfall (well it is the “dry season”) and then a long blast on a very quiet and bendy road to see a hot spring. It was hot and it was a spring…what more can I say! Having forgot to take any sun cream with me I got a little red (but the next day it was brown).

This gave me an idea. I don’t have to be in Bangkok till the 4th of May….road trip!!!!!!

Wat Wat Wat Wat Wat

sfau — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 19:33:00 GMT

There are various ways to get from Ayutthaya to Chiang Mai. I could have flown or gone by bus but I chose to let the train take the strain. Going by train meant breaking 2 of my “golden rules” of travelling

Never travel overnight
Never travel for more than 9 hours

Before I came to Thailand I thought it was the monsoon season here. It’s not; it’s the “hot” season so the temperature is nudging 40!!!!
I was in the classiest carriage the train had on offer, it was a sleeper with fan, and thankfully the large windows went down all the way. Sadly my berth was an upper and not a lower so I had a noisy and inefficient fan to cool me as I tried in vain to sleep, whilst the train travelled deep into the night. On the Brightside, like Indian trains you can smoke in the usual manner!

Arriving at the city of Chiang Mai (13.5 hours after leaving Ayutthaya) at 05:30 in the morning, with no sleep I felt tired but wired. The 20 minute walk into the centre of town woke me up mentally and stretched my legs. After looking at a couple of places I ended up staying at the MD House hostel. For 500 baht (or about a tenner) I have a room that is ensuite, has free wifi (which is a big selling point in the 21st century) and most importantly aircon!!!!

With the a/c turned to the max I took a long and quite frankly well needed shower before checking out the mattress for a few hours.

About Chiang Mai:

The old city is about 1 square kilometre in size, surrounded by a moat. Vestiges of the defensive city wall can still be seen as can each of the four gates that once controlled access into the city. This place has about 300 Wats as the Thai’s call their temples which is nearly as many as Bangkok.

Waking up later in the morning I was slightly chilly (damn was that a/c unit good) but that soon changed as I went outside…within 30 minutes of walking the hot and mean streets of Chiang Mai I was inside a coffee shop rapidly cooling down with an iced coffee, followed by another one! I think cold coffee somehow makes the uptake of sweet sweet caffeine a slower affair.
By mid afternoon I was a Watted out. Honestly they all pretty much look the same and after seeing four of them the slight differences were no longer interesting enough for me. So back to the hotel and the a/c unit. I forgot to mention that the hotel has a swimming pool, just like I forgot to bring my swimming trunks.

This city is a good place to many things

zip lining
Bungee jumping
Zorbing
Trekking
Mountain biking
Go karting
Tiger petting….why?????
Elephant riding

But you know what…I just couldn’t be arsed! I much preferred waking up late, bimberling for a few hours followed by a couple of cold beers in the afternoon before having a little siesta. I think my travelling Mojo needs a good kick up the proverbially arse.

The next day was Saturday….Arsenal v Chelsea in the FA cup semi final, kick off 23:15. I found an English pub (surprised?) called the Old Bell and they sold cheeses!! Pork pies!!! Cider!!!! So for the first time in over a year I had a pork pie (180 baht) and a bottle of cider (195 baht). My wallet was screaming but my taste buds weren’t listening.
The next day was Sunday, obviously, so F1 from china in the afternoon followed by more football in the evening. Manchester United lost…happy days!!!!

Monday was my last full day and I walked to the bus station to get a ticket for the following morning. There are two bus stations in Chiang Mai and I went to the wrong one. Cue more walking! Eventually the ticket was brought and I headed back into the city. Weirdly I passed the Old Bell…mmm cider and a 6 month old copy of private eye. Sometimes it just all comes together!

So I spent my weekend in the pub watching sport on the television

Same same but different

What? Wat!

sfau — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 19:32:00 GMT

As I was heading north for 10 to 12 days before coming back to Bangkok I decided that I really didn’t need to lug my 24 kilo bag around. As the hostel had a storage room for 20 baht a day I now have a small holdall for my clothes.

The train ride to Ayutthaya, the ancient ruined capital of Siam was a long affair. Just kidding it was only 90 minutes, barely enough time to get comfortable. Once off the train it was a short walk to the hostel I had booked online a few days ago.
Could I find the damn place! It was, according to the hostel a one minute walk from the river boat ferry and I even had the map they had emailed me. After a while of just “not getting it” I asked a few shop owners and taxi drivers. Blank looks were all I got. So either I was standing right outside the place and was being blind to the fact or the hostel didn’t exist. Mind you it could be option number three.

After a short sit down I did the unthinkable and got out the guide book and walked the 500m or so to the biggest gringo hostel marked on the map. Surprisingly “Tony’s place” is rather nice. The room has

A bed
A window
A fan
A mirror
And a floor to put stuff on

A good restaurant and a well stocked bar is attached. Along the same street are a few bars so walking far isn’t an option worth taking.

It seems that I left Bangkok on the right morning because this afternoon the red shirts came to town and the government has declared a state of emergency throughout the greater Bangkok area.

I also found out how much it costs for a days diving in phuket. It’s 4000 baht or about £78. There is no way I’m ever paying that much, so looks like plans are a changing.

New Years Eve or just the next day (depending on which country you are from):

I woke early, too early as it turns out because the coffee shop across the road doesn’t open till 7am. It does, when it is open, do a damn fine cup of joe. After breakfast I packed the camera into the day bag, slung it on my back and started walking. There was something that I had forgotten but I just couldn’t remember it!

Following a short and lazy walk I was at the 1st ruin of the day. It was a Wat and it had a central temple surrounded by several smaller ones. The remains of a great hall were in front and all of this was surround by a large brick enclosure. Across the road was another Wat which was very similar. When I left the 1st of 5 tourist buses turned up, damn I have good timing!
I walked the long way to get to another Wat. It’s hot in Thailand and it was only 10am. This Wat had 3 central large pointy thingies (I don’t want to confuse you by getting too technical) and they were impressive. Next door was a modern looking temple containing a large bronze Buddha. When I say large, I mean huge.

From there I started to head somewhere else and was walking along the street hugging the shade. Coming towards me was a pickup over laden with shouting kids. When it drew level with me I suddenly remembered what I had forgotten. Having your face smeared with mud and a bucket of water poured over your head helps with the memory loss. Its water festival time in Thailand, it’s the local way of celebrating the New Year and it lasts for 3 days!!!
It took me an hour to get back to the hostel; all along this one road, next to the river were 100’s of people shouting and laughing soaking everyone that walked or drove past. I got soaked to the skin 5 times, drenched several times and had many mud packs free of charge.
Back in my room I drained the inch of water from the bottom of my bag and I was happy to find that my camera was mostly dry and still working. I spent the rest of the day standing on the street outside the bar with a bucket of water in my hand getting people wet.
It was the best way of keeping cool!!!!

The next morning I woke up, sat on the side of the bed, looked at my reflection in the mirror and said to myself “F**k, I’m 39 today”

Could be worse…I could be reading this as opposed to writing it

Today (the 15th) is my last full day in this town. It’s hot but there are hammocks and I’m sure I can find an ice cold beer or two

Get Thai'd! You're talking to a tourist...

sfau — Wed, 8 Apr 2009 19:32:00 GMT

The plane door was opened and with one final nameste I left Nepal behind and sucked in the warm, heavy scent filled languid air of Thailand. Knowing that this joyous experience wouldn’t last long I breathed in deep and hard. By the time I was outside the airport and filtering the air via a Marlboro it was gone.

The taxi to the hostel was a strange affair. After 252 days I couldn’t see a single snow capped mountain peak. Also travelling on a road with 4 lanes of traffic just felt weird

I’m staying at the Urban Age Hostel just off Silom Street. My room isn’t ensuite and it has no window. It does however have a great bed, aircon that really works, free wifi and as I found out when I walked 50m from the front door a pub called the Duke of Wellington nearby!

Inside the Duke of Wellington

“The Good”

As the heavy wooden door gently closed behind me trapping the icy air from the heat outside I stared. First at the several TV’s showing football, then at the ideally positioned pool table and then lastly at the bar. I walked, softly with slight hesitation towards it. Arriving at the bar I pulled out a stool, sat down and looked at the labels on the pumps. The barman asked a question and I answered. Moments later a superbly poured half litre of Heineken was in front of me. The outside of the glass was covered in condensation; the froth of the head was teasing me to take a sip. I paused the glass millimetres from my aching lips for a moment, enjoying the pleasure of the drink not yet drunk. Then I quaffed.

After 11 months I finally had a beer that was:

a) Ice cold
And
b) Not polluted with glycerol

You have no idea what that was like!!!!!

I put the glass down looking with wonder at where my fingertips had momentarily warmed the glass and dispelled the condensation, caught up in the rapture that my taste buds were experiencing
You know what; the second beer was just as good!

By now it was nearing 7pm and I went for a walk to find some food.

“The Bad”

I was walking along Silom Street and it was full of street vendors selling all manner of hot and tasty local food when I came across a KFC. I walked past it but only just! However, when shortly after that I came across a Burger King, the lure of a bacon double cheese burger was beyond my ability to say no!!!

Damn….it tasted good

“The Ugly”

My hostel is right next door to patong, the red light district (which shows lack o f judgement on my part when I booked the hostel) and with the exception of me there are a lot of old, fat and bald western men walking around looking for what….a happy ending of course!
Walking down the side streets looking at the girls outside the numerous “massage parlours” with a worn out but fixed smile on their faces made me wonder…

Now personally if a woman wants to earn a living on her back with her legs in the air, then that is fine with me. However I’ve never heard a little girl answer the question “what to you want to be when you grow up” with the answer “a sex worker”.

The next day I went shopping….I HATE SHOPPING!!!!!!!

Being sad, working class and English I ended up at Tesco (my mum thinks she‘s posh because she shops at Waitrose). Why? I had a dream….of a cheese counter going onto into infinity. What I got was 2 foot of chillier space with a choice of cheddar, Edam or Gouda all pre packed age lumps from that well known cheese producing country of New Zealand. I walked away empty handed with my head hanging low.

That night I was bimbling when the heavens opened (yep its monsoon time again) so I took shelter in a nearby bar. It was 30m wide and 4m deep and all the tables faced the pavement. I liked it! After the rain had stopped I went mmm… As the Duke of Wellington was now my local I went down the side streets along outdoor markets and pass the many and varied “dance bars”. Despite the requests and offers I passed on by. I mean you wouldn’t take a staving child to a sweet shop and tell him he can look at the sweets but he can’t taste any of them. That would be cruel!

Freudian slip number one: err….see above

The next day found me awake, slightly hung over and confused. The watch said 08:21 but for some reason I just couldn’t believe it. Not having a window can be a drawback after all. After a shower and my usual breakfast it was on board the sky train (in my head I call it the skylark…remember that TV show?) for the quick trip to the end of the line and the central pier. The lass at the hostel told me not to go on the tourist boat but to get on a local boat instead as it would be 130 baht cheaper. Seeing a boat pointing in the right direction, full of local people I jumped on board. The boat left the pier and headed out into the middle of the river. It continued heading to port till it reached the other side and parked at the pier directly opposite the pier it had just left. Then everyone got of…

Walking is much more fun!!!

A few warm hours later I was at the place where all the temples and the odd palace were. My first thought was N.A.F.T but I forced myself to at least see one. So one large lazy golden Buddha later I felt satisfied and moved on pass the royal palace and into one of the 1000’s of 7 till 11’s (open 24 hours a day) that litter this city for a cold drink. Outside a man was very keen to show me a 50m statue of Buddha that amazingly was not only nearby but by good chance was only open day, for free (scam anyone?). I pointed out that I had seen a bigger one in India so I couldn’t be arsed to see this one. The look of complete disbelief that crossed his face was like a dark storm cloud ruining a sunny day.

Later heading towards the train station, I was sitting down outside a closed shop on a semi deserted street smoking a fag, when a middle aged lady sat next to me. She told me that she worked across the street, pointing out a dilapidated apartment block, as she spoke. If I liked she had a young and good looking girl from Nepal that I could “have” if I wanted to. Several thousand Nepali girls are sex trafficked every year and not all of them end up in an Indian brothel. This one didn’t look set up to cater to an exclusive cliental which made me wonder what would happen to her when she was all “used up” and no longer making her madam money.

In the evening it was time for a long overdue manicure. First I had an hour’s foot massage, which completely chilled and relaxed me out. The young lass doing the manicure asked me how long I wanted my nails to be. I guess that Thai and English people have a different idea of what “short” is. The last time my nails were this short was one minute before I finally decided to stop biting them

Thailand have very kindly decided to throw a big party on my birthday, or as they call it New Year. It’s a 4 day affair that starts in two days (the 12th). This is also the day I leave Bangkok if I can get a train ticket. I could tell you the 1st half of this story but I really can’t face reliving it just yet.

I’m sitting in the pub (no real surprise there) trying to open a packet of fags. Without nails it truly is bloody difficulty.

One more thing: after two days I still think that being able to turn on a light bulb 24 hours a day is a miracle worthy of worshipping a new god