First problem - tyres not deflated enough - easy fix. Second problem - they did not like the plastic bags for the bikes . Had to buy boxes from Air France, slightly annoying, but only €7 each so not really a problem. Third problem - they wanted to charge us €55 each for the bikes. We had checked their website and phoned the UK office and as long as the bikes were within our baggage allowance of 46kg!! , they should be free. Many explanations and more and more heated conversations got us one for free from the check-in manager. Tried to pay the fee, but the Air France handling agent wanted $75, so they call Egypt Air. Strangely enough, at this point, Egypt Air decided that the bikes should go free and there had been a misunderstanding re the method of packing (we should have taken the front wheels off!). Anyway - all free - but 2 hours taken from start to end of check-in!
Arrived at Charles de Gaulle at about 9am after about 2 hours sleep on route in a lovely motorway service station. Free car park and shuttle bus sorted and plenty of time waiting on plastic chairs for the Egypt Air check-in to open. First problem - tyres not deflated enough - easy fix. Second problem - they did not like the plastic bags for the bikes . Had to buy boxes from Air France, slightly annoying, but only €7 each so not really a problem. Third problem - they wanted to charge us €55 each for the bikes. We had checked their website and phoned the UK office and as long as the bikes were within our baggage allowance of 46kg!! , they should be free. Many explanations and more and more heated conversations got us one for free from the check-in manager. Tried to pay the fee, but the Air France handling agent wanted $75, so they call Egypt Air. Strangely enough, at this point, Egypt Air decided that the bikes should go free and there had been a misunderstanding re the method of packing (we should have taken the front wheels off!). Anyway - all free - but 2 hours taken from start to end of check-in!
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Finally, we are both back in a freezing cold wreck in France and starting to plan our trip to Thailand and Laos which starts on Wednesday! Some speedy packing tomorrow will be required to get all our dispersed gear into one bag and the mothballed bikes back in a fit state for a short spin around a little of South East Asia.
No snow here at present, but the village pond is still iced over and the fire is still not roaring enough to heat more than one room. Five weeks away from dull greyness should be a welcome tonic after a harsh winter spent renovating (and not renovating) the house. Cold winds, busy roads, flash looking cars, stressed people - welcome back to Europe.
Early start , packed and ready for action wile Teresa was still struggling with her health. Was sent out to get on the internet to inform Teresa’s Dad about our arrival time at Gatwick etc. and also to bargain for/buy a painting from a gallery in old Havana. The mission failed completely f- after two hours I returned with nothing. We packed the remaining items and set of together to sort out what I had not done on the way to the airport. Internet no joy - thanks to Raul and Fidel - but we purchased two painting from the gallery. Fast track cycling to the airport fully loaded with alcohol, tobacco and the rolled pictures, must have looked funny. Got to the Aeropuerto two hours before the first check in so plenty of time for bicycle dismantling/packing A random Italian tried to buy the bikes from us at the airport. He had lived in Cuba for 15years and was very happy just playing golf at the nearby golf course . No employment, just poaching- I had to bite my tongue 40min in the queue to check in followed by 5 min in another queue to pay exit levy of €25 per person. A further, rather surprising tax, for exporting artwork out of the country: my levels of inhaling communist crap were boiling over by this stage, so went to get a beer for equivalent of the weekly Cuban wage. Cheers. The seats on the plane where absolutely fantastic - thanks Virgin Atlantic! I had a funny relief to be out of “Truman Show” country. Not too sure if I was ready to enter the Siberian like weather of Southern England with a gale blowing. Total cycled: 4089 km Thanks to all for following the madness. We really hope we will be able to make it all the way around one day. I wont give up on the dream! Woken up by early by the noise of villagers waiting for the first bus /gua gua/ out of town. Nevertheless, the sea view beach location of our tent was absolutely great and semi wild horses strolling along did not bother us at all. The man we had drank with last night arrived as promised at 6:30 and served us some over roasted strong coffee. The beach’s grand cafeteria, or should I say massive complex of lovely developed socialist style space with lots of workers doing nothing, had opened and we could buy some Cuban breakfast items. An interesting touch was the fact that you could buy alcohol and cigarettes 24 hours a day in a near by bar run by the Campismo - bearing in mind that there is absolutely no, or near enough no, tourists in town at this time of the year - Bizarre! The trip back in to main town 26 km up the road was a bit of a hard graft against the wind and we had to cheat by jumping on the back of the lorry. 80 euro cents later - bargain/- we had an ice cream in San Juan y Martinez then carried on our fight against the wind and time to get to Pinar del Rio on time for our booked bus to Havana. Also had to collect our 50 pre-ordered of top quality thin rolled cigars from 6th Terminal area of town. En route we met two English or should I say British cyclists hacking along with half the amount of weight on their bikes as ours. They were on three week tour with some friends (who were waiting for them in Viniales having decided not to tacked the mountainous section of Pinar province). We picked up our cigars and popped into the Guayabita factory in Pinar fo buy a couple of bottles of their finest product. The 15 minutes speedy lunch in a “Marina” restaurant was later regretted with belly ache etc. The Cubanatour office (where we had reserved the bus) was absolutely empty and the lady told us to wait up to 30 mins for the bus. I wandered off several times buying sweets and dodgy Cuban music. An hour and a half later, the bus arrived and we left in high comfort for Havana city. Passing through as ummer storm and 160km of empty motorway, we arrived in the posh parts of Havana “Avenue of Presidents” where we searched for the same place we had stayed in 2 months ago. Bingo, the place was empty but the price had suffered some severed inflation. We bargained and managed to knock off five CUC. Shower, new clothes and I went for a glimpse of Havana at night, leaving Teresa to deal with her Deli belly and headache after our dodgy food. Beer, cigars and Cuba Lbre, strolled in wobbly fashion back home. A difficult night trying to dodge mosquito attacks and a rat attempting to eat its way through a door to escape captivity. Lovely breakfast at another house which had twisted and dropped due to hurricane damage. We cycled out north and then west heading for Playa Bailen. Great progress and helping wind mixed with plenty of energy we were flying ticking off kilometres. We stopped in search of cigars at most of the tobacco plantations en route but only 20% were willing to proceed with transactions. The smell off drying tobacco was lovely, and visiting local houses even better. The farmers offered us drinks and sometimes food although not having much themselves: a bit of a flash back from my childhood in Poland. Got lots of hand rolled cigars from some proud men who showed and explained the trade. PInar del Rio had a Guayabita rum production tour and tobacco factory visit on offer, so we took them. After lunch we headed for San Juan y Martinez and Playa Bailen. Gentle ride and lots of breaks with random fruit drinks and snacks observing Cuban relaxed lives. At San Juan the sunlight ran out and we were forced to hitch a lift from a passing lorry. 18kms later we scrambled off the back and rode the last 8kms to the beach in total darkness on a moonless night – good job the road was in good condition!. Arrived at the beach resort of Bailen to be told that we could not camp, and were supposed to have been escorted to the only official Casa Particular. The shark decided that he would take us to his own (or friend’s house) to try to squeeze 20 CUC (€20) from us. We initially bargained down to 15, but eventually decided to escape and find a better option. The (closed) Campismo guard decided to help: she agreed to keep watch on the bikes and suggested where we could set up our tent. A perfect night chatting to a friendly local with some cold beers and cheap Cuban rum with unbranded Cuban coke-cola. Another grandiose breakfast. Packed early, locked ourselves out of the room to find out that the owners had only one key. Broke back in with the help of a broom handle. We eventually left Vinales at about 10 am. Five km. out of town we found a rustic original Tabaco plantation. Harvesting was underway but the farmer’s wife had time to show us the whole process including the thatched triangular drying barn, the method for stone filtering water from the well and the home grown and roasted coffee. The picture postcard house was just too good to be true. We left the family all of our things we could get away without for next three days in Cuba: T-shirts, torches and especially Teresa’s old mobile phone were highly appreciated. 20 more kms to Pinar del Rio. Cooler temperatures than Costa Rica made the cycle really easy. Dilapidated colonial buildings and a seedy atmosphere welcomed us. Cafes with not much available on their menus, poachers continually harassing us and nothing open on Sunday, made us want to leave the town quickly. We booked our return bus to Havana and got some recommendations on places to visit in the area. 10km south, heading for the nearest playa, I stopped to take a picture and asked a man smoking a cigar if he had some for sale. He happily showed me his selection of hand rolled cigars out of home grown tobacco (as used for Cohiba) and sold me the best 20 of his cigars for just under 1 Euro! We had a chat and his wife begged me not to tell anyone where I got them from. Farmers are allowed to keep up to 10% of their tobacco for personal use but not for sale - another astonishing experience (by accident) . We left them my blow up sleeping mat, unused tool kit from Nicaragua and a pillow (every other item of our equipment was still needed). Warmed after the visit, we cycled on to arrive half an hour later in La Coloma – a total dive of a fishing port crossed with military base and “mucho” unemployed people drinking on the streets surrounded by soviet style concrete blocks. We had a lovely banana yoghurt drink out of a plastic bag (1 litre costs around 10 euro cents) in a cafeteria on the seafront (not pretty). We spotted youths diving in of the jetty were sign a sign read “do not swim”. Two minutes after entering the town we were on the way out, passing some locals racing horse carts. 7km west, Playa Las Canas was not much better but at least it was peaceful. Found a sea fronted Casa - bonus. At least a third of all houses on playa were uninhabited or/and ruined: it must be as a result of a hurricane or two. Unpacked and relaxed sat on a long dilapidated jetty watching a Cuban woman catching her “pescado” dinner while puffing on the first real top quality cigar of my life… Lovely breakfast on the patio, followed by a trip to the tourist office. Booked a 4 hour horse tour to take in some more caves and a tobacco plantation . The guest house owners were trying to sell us anything they possibly could to make few extra cuc (although they were very friendly family). 45 minutes later we met our “Calvin Klein“ clad guide with two docile, semi-automatic horses for us. I had never riddena horse before, so I was a bit worried, but the horses were preprogramed considering how easily it went. Both the cave and the tabaco plantation visits were fake and a total rip off. The cigars were sold to us at the plantation for a price 50 times over the market value (not mentioning the drink’s we had). The horses were great, scenery spectacular and the ride really enjoyable. Met a Belgian (Flemish) couple during the trip and we joined them for a few drinks and lively discussion at a grotty Cuban bar. After a siesta, we returned for more latin music and drinks on the square. Bought a huge birthday style cake in a dulceria and shared it with the locals. Joined by slightly weird, older Croatian backpacker. His conversation’s spiralled from Cuban prostitute’s, through political issues to a nightmarish Lapland trip. We made our exit as a voluptuous black Cuban mamma made a move to seduce him. Shared accommodation with everybody in the casa particular (at least it felt like it with an open ceiling space), and a mosquito invasion was a bit tough. Breakfast made up for it though. An American traveller (minus his Honduran friend) had joined us after breakfast and told us the horror story of their trip… They were sailing from the United States to Honduras and after some trouble with their engine ended up on the Cuban coast. Repaired twice, they finally hit a reef and after a few days, and lack of help (paid for) from the Cuban authorities, the boat sank. Just to make it worse the Honduran guy was on the way to start a new life after saving money in the States. They were now going through the legal process trying to save some of the bits from the boat including a motorbike etc. We left at about 10 am and headed for La Palma. What a place! Great lunch, great people and no tourists! Priceless gem of Cuban happiness. We left the town and stopped for a boat trip in a cave before the town of Vinales……. A bit of a plastic tour … 40 min later cycling uphill we arrive in Vinales. A very beautiful but seriously touristy place. Found a great old Casa with wholesome colonial rooms. Visited a naff mural/painting on a rock face and met some Polish gents in a restaurant. I managed to speak a bit of Polish (it was had having had such little practice of late). They gave us a few tips on what we could see in Vinales and Pinar del Rio. We spent the rest of the night drinking and listening to “salsa” music on the square in the centre of town. I slept like a baby and found it hard to get up. Teresa had been kept awake by strange, repeated howling noises. Although it had rained we were still dry in the morning. By 8am we were on the road again. Returned to crappy Cuban food with omelette in bread for breakfast washed down with sweet black coffee. 5 km down the road I had a puncture. Decided not to visit the open air cold water baths and continued towards Soroa. On a junction before the town we totally changed our minds and headed north west instead. The scenery was spectacular and the villages interesting. Several ice creams and a chatty German speaking Cuban in Bahia Honda. Another 45 km took us to the expected beach resort of Cayo Levisa. The clue was in the name, it was actually an island and we had arrived at a very dull jetty and a snack bar servicing a once daily boat. After another ice-cream, we cut our losses and decided to stay in the only casa particular in the area. Hot water was much appreciated after three days sleeping rough. Woke up at 7am in the sleeping bag on the floor at Havana int Airport. By 10 am we had managed to brush our teeth, shave, phone travel agents to work out an escape route (no joy) and established that the bikes had been cleared to leave Costa Rica. Teresa brokered a deal with the helpful TACA Airlines staff that when our bikes arrived they would put them and us in a taxi to “Las Terazzas”. They also agreed to store our luggage in their office while we took a day trip in Havana city. We walked away from the terminal and flagged down a 1951, battered, green Chevy. 5 CUC in to town (the driver used the taxi like a bus, picking up other people on the way). We had a full monty four hours, splurging on anything we wanted: ceramic shops, galleries, colonial buildings, coffees, mojitos, beers, ice-creams - you name it! Running late, we scampered back to meet our taxi driver. We were late but he was even later. The 60 year old Chevy rattled along with an isuzu second hand engine and Toyota gearbox. Total mileage a mystery. Cheap Cuban cigar at the airport while Teresa located the bikes. They were bushed badly: Teresa’s back light missing and mudguard smashed, my derailleur protection twisted and snapped, bend plastic pump holder and scratched handlebar. Not impressed. Eventually found a taxi driver willing to take us on a beautiful through the western hills towards Pinar del Rio. Las Terazzas was created in the 60’s as a model village and paradise resort – and actually worked. It is now protected as Unesco world heritage site (not bad for a Milton Keynes of Cuba). We put our bikes together outside the luxury hotel before leaving to find the nearby campsite. En route, we stopped at the lake front café for a sunset meal. Ended up cycling in a dark to a not so easy to find campsite. Passed a Cuban driver sleeping on the road guarding his broken trailer – gave him our last cake from Havana. After 3km we arrived at campismo in total darkness. Welcomed by security guards brandishing machetes and wooden poles, we were told there was no room for foreigners. After begging, they agreed we could pitch our tent just outside the entrance. Camped under the trees as the rain had started and our tent is far from waterproof! “Ferry port” luxury tent was fine, enough sleep and we boarded on time. Sunrise on our morning cruise became a little overcast but no threat of rain. Puntarenas mid-week was much more sleepy and relaxed, but a massive cruise ship was sending multiple coachloads of mainly retired holidaymakers for a various daytrips. Sellers of random junk with police guards hanging around them like shadows. Sometimes it pays off to look scabby as we were not hassled. We got our tickets for our trip into the central valley and international airport of San Jose (very pleasant experience - lots of genuinely helpful people). Then we had half an hour to kill waiting for the bus at the seafront park. Connected to the internet chatting to our parents via Skype - last possibility before Cuban black hole. The bus trip was comfortable and after two hours of eating and not exercising we arrived at the airport. One broken spoke and Teresa’s bag, then clothing, covered in grease. Very friendly (English speaking) airport policeman helped with easy directions to get to Alejuela using the right road avoiding traffic madness. One hour looking for a repair shop, being sent by different people on a wild goose chase we finally found one with the great help of an Alajuela policeman. Bike had spoke fixed but also new screw holes tapped for the bike stand. It took us almost an hour and I started getting edgy about the time! Soda meal at the Alajuela market and flying beer in the same bar as we were seven weeks earlier on our first day in Costa Rica. On the way back to the airport we stopped to buy some “Imperial” t-shirts and few minutes later I was folding the bikes for the airport handling purposes. Due to the repairs, we ran out of time to drop into Denny’s to say farewell to Gustavo and Eduard. Checked in we tried frantically to find an internet connection to book ourselves on some means of transport from the UK to France for or return 9 days later. (there would be a very slim chance of finding internet in Cuba). After surfing for a while, we got back to the lounge to realise that we were the last remaining passengers for boarding and without a Cuban entry visa! We had to pay on the spot. Long story short we have made it! Phew… Three hours later we were told by Taca officials that security in San Jose had withheld the bikes!!! Yes , biking holidays in Cuba without bikes! My passport got confiscated by customs and I was questioned as to why I was in Cuba? I did not know myself - especially without the bicycle! We were given some telephone numbers and the usual procedure to follow. 10 pm, the airport bar and a headache what to plan for the next day? Got up early to make the most out of the national park. Competed another 3 walking routes (covered the whole park and a little bit more). Met a deer that was only scared of cars and not worried at all by humans, got chased by an iguana :-). After another refreshing swim and shower we hired a double sea kayak and fought against some Pacific waves, then paddled into the small estuary in to the park . Absolutely great experience. Found out too late that diving off the NP is also a true jem, not only visual, with a plenitude of small sharks and tropical fish, turtles and so much more, but you could also fish on nearby Tortuga Islands and have your catch cooked for dinner at the park’s kitchen. Next time! Unfortunately all good things have to end somewhere so finally just before the sunset we left the park. Cycled 6 km to the next town but could not find any accommodation, so peddled another 4 to the port just to rough the last night in Costa Rica in our tent. Lots of Ticas were doing the same as the last ferry of the night had been cancelled. Birds singing, Howler monkeys screeching and Ticas eating breakfast were our alarm clock at 5.30 that morning. By 6 am we were wondering along the beach. Breakfast with the sound of the local church songs, and by 10 we were cycling back to “CURU” national park. The park is a semi-private reserve started in the 1930’s where we could spend a relaxed day spotting a multitude of indigenous flora and fauna. Beaches, snorkelling, diving and horse riding would all be possible too (if we dipped further into our shallow wallets).
Very nice ride with only one climb and we arrived at the gate. We checked in and cycled another 2.5 km to get to the main reception (a shop where we could pick up the key). We were given no information other than being pointed towards our accommodation. The beach hut was basic but lovely being totally private and overlooking the beach which was less than 5m from the door. Couldn’t resist a quick swim and lunch sat on driftwood on the sand.. Animals were everywhere… and the entry fee and hut cost of US$50 was definitely money well spent . We did three walking routes before dusk and each one was truly amazing. (So many birds including 3 different kingfishers, loads of woodpecker varieties (inc. one with a wacky red head reminiscent of “road runner”, butterflies, armadillos, gautusos (rabbit sized cute rat), iguanas, 3 types of monkeys, deer, a large troop of coatamundi, dolphins and numerous crabs (all sizes and colours), sea and shore birds . We finished the evening with a dip in the sea (almost dark by then) and Jamaican rum and coke sitting on our beautiful porch. Out of town on the first ferry on Saturday morning , not a good move (bit like weekend ferry escape to Calais-mega busy). Fantastic trip for just over an hour on much bigger vessel the night before. Most of the Ticas where getting pretty mellow on various kinds of alcohol at 9 am. Arrived in Paquera and the heat got to the top levels. We cycled, with plenty of stops, for around 45 km, passing some serious hills and their refreshing resultant drops. Teresa spotted a very rare red parrot (Scarlet Macaw) as she was dragging slowly behind. Other animals and birds abounded along the roadsides. Watermelon and ice cream breaks were mandatory!
We were intending to cycle to the much hyped tourist destination of Montezuma, but heat, tiredness and new plans forced a change Having cycled past Curu nature reserve, we opted to spend a day at a campsite on a beach 14kms from the park. Tambor town and beach became our destination and being alymost 100% non-touristy we got a bit of Tica charm on a peninsular dominated by North Americans on short breaks. We have been the only foreign tourists on the campsite and I think it’s purely because “LP” has not mentioned anything about the place (perfect). A really nice touch was the rain forest stretching along the beach, amazing company of birds and lizards. Swim, dinner followed by a drink from the local store, Latin music from the bar, family bbq’s and waves breaking on the shore. Woken up by the owner’s parrot pets, got ready to rock by 7.30. Breaky on the square and of we headed east on route 21 towards the port of “Playa Naranjo”. Struggled in the heat cutting across the hills around Nicoya town. Lots of fruit growing farms , some cattle fields and typical Guanacaste cowboys called “Sabanero”: very proud f their perfect horse riding skills. Stopped for coffee and ice cream. The price of food was much lower here but who wants to eat in midday heat after a decent breakfast? We got to the town of Jicaral where a nice Tico gentleman, offered for us to stay at his home on the south-east part of the peninsula (very nice touch). We had just arrived and from politeness thanked the man, but on the reflection we should have taken the offer: it would be such a great experience. Transport was an issue and our time schedule made it impossible. Had a quick meal in a Chinese soda (there had been a small influx of Chinese people as railway and banana plantation labour). Seventh ice cream of the day then left town to find the lovey tarmacked road quickly disappeared. Road work meant messy chalky legs, bikes and panniers. Passed several salt pans and ended up in a lovely bar at the quiet ferry port. A sunset cruise with disco and grill on an empty boat to Puntarenas was a great way to end a 106 km ride. The “Pearl of the Pacific” had lost its shine. The decline of the importance of the port and better tourist resorts nearby has left the town with a seedy, run down feel. Hotels were dismal and hugely overpriced . Our reluctant choice came with plenty of grubbiness and a resident mouse. Avoiding staying in the hotel room, we left for a tour of the sights. Half way through dessert the whole town went black. The restaurant had a generator but most of the town was completely black. Lack of street lights made it a difficult and dangerous trip back .Our windowless room was steamingly hot. Luckily the electricity returned after a few minutes. Nylon sheets! Woke up to the same sounds from the disco at about 6 am (long lasting party for mid-week?). Got a fresh baguette (recommended by Hans) and butter to enjoy our marmite for breakfast (not vegemite – sorry Ryan). Got packed and had a bit of a dispute about payment (they tried to overcharge). A few kilometres out of town we fixed Teresa’s bike foot with the help of local building store supplying the screws. One of the cafes we stopped in had a great idea of spraying mist around the garden , cooling the air and stopping the dust. Frankly it was not an upmarket place but only a basic road side café. Heat and dust. Never ending dirt roads and painful roasting conditions made us stop lots of times and finally we changed the route. The map did not show the difference between the tarmacked and dirt roads. In desperation we turned inland for “Santa Cruz “. Arrived late afternoon breaking the sweat with coffees, beer or ice creams. Problems with finding accommodation, solved but not amazed by it. Prospering town supplying mainly nearby tourist spots. Interesting square and church tower. Free internet provided by the city on the square had to be utilized. We both decided to start cycling early and after long break during the middle of the day continuing in the evening to reduce the problems with the unbearable heat. Woken up just after sunrise and opened the window to see the view I would probably want to see every day of my life. The hotel owner’s dog went for a morning walk along the beach with us. Purchased breakfast, salty white cheese, fruit, biscuits and orange juice and eaten in our wooden hut’s patio table. Struggling to leave, we started cycling at about 10 am. The owner’s dog followed us for ages until we had a cunning plan of hiding and cycling off at high speed. The beach resorts became more busy and suddenly the road changed into the beach itself. Not possible to cycle on soft sand but next to the shore line was pretty ok. Clambered across a river and after about a kilometre on a sandy beach passing tourist horse riders and quad maniacs we got to a gravel road.. Lots of posh villas and very well maintained gardens. Lots of properties for sale; the effects of economy downturn could easily be seen. Extremely hot conditions and lots of dust being kicked up from passing vehicles made the experience a bit hard. In the afternoon, absolutely drained of energy, we have arrived in “Playa Grande”: a renowned national park protecting leatherback turtles. Had couple of ridiculously expensive beers in a scabby beach bar (served by “Britney”…), not impressed! Looked around for a room and no joy in our price range. Wild camping was the answer of many people asked, however not possible with expensive equipment like ours. Cycled south to check options on the outskirts of town. Finally under pressure of time, (the national park beach for turtles does not allow walking on the beach between 6pm and 6 am) we left Playa Grande for Tamarindo in a small boat whizzing across the river that divides the beaches . Crossing time 15 seconds, price 8 bucks - I want this job. Another struggle through the sandy beach accompanied with lots of surfing dudes hanging around waiting for the perfect wave. Quick swim and fight with fantastic curly waves. Got to Tamarindo town, completely filled with tourists. Pizza hut and Subway did not add local charm either. Had a quick ice cream and while enjoying the taste Teresa’s bicycle stand broke off. Found the campsite in the southern part of town. Only us and a Swiss gentleman travelling by 4x4 across the Americas were staying on site. Got some food and beers and chatted with about travels and worries of the world. Hans told us that his first car trip was from Switzerland to India in 1969 in Citroen 2CV (return) for his honeymoon!!! I did some cleaning and maintenance to protect the bicycles from the hefty portions of sand and salt water received through the day while Teresa washed our salty clothing. Collapsed after few beers and fell asleep to the sounds of the local disco in a background (music until 6am) Breakfast, water top up then voted to cheat by taking a bus ride to Liberia to avoid a dangerous ride along the Interamericana highway (with no hard shoulder). Very smooth bus ride with very kind staff (a bit of a difference to the Nicaraguan rough busses). Liberia had not much to offer, but the bicycle shop next to the main square was the best in central America! We had our spoke fixed. A quick ice cream session and we headed out of town on our bikes. Lots of stops at road side cafes and the mandatory picture of a “Liberian girl” interspersed by cycling, and lots of sweat. We decided on a shortcut route to Playa Potrero. The last 8 km climbing across a ridge on a dirt track was absolute agony and in some places we had to push the bikes. At one stage we even considered brewing tea in our steaming hot water bottles. Arrived at the beach and stopped at the first beach café we saw. Celebrated Teresa’s birthday chatting to some American (Texan) holiday makers (who invited us to experience tubing, dragging along cold beers), watching the abundant wildlife and enjoying a few beers. Loved the outstanding vews so much that we overnighted at café’s nearby beach huts. What a spot! Up and showered by 6.30 am, breakfast on the beach followed by another session of organic coffee. Cycled out of town on a, not so popular, direct dirt road with lots of hills that joins the beaches on the route south of San Juan del Sur. After 10 km climbing and breaking on the rocks we stopped for a fizzy drink in a road side school canteen/cafe. We were told that if we carried on that way we would get mugged. Not wanting to return to the starting point using our muscles, we hitched a lift from a Canadian guy in a pick-up truck. He not only gave us a lift back to town but also a guided tour of the town with inside info and also a lift 20 km further to the main Interamericana junction . What a star. He was the owner of one of the bars on the seaside which somehow got confiscated by a dodgy law and bribery. He had also been a military attaché in South Korea for at the Canadian Embassy. We headed for the border with a lunch break at a local soda. Teresa’s bike had lost a spoke again (the newly replaced one was obviously not good quality), and just to top it off she got bitten by a wasp (or something similar). Got to the border, what a confusing experience. About the size of three football pitches of total madness with lots of bureaucracy and wasted time. Even the payment for leaving Nicaragua was split into two payments and no change possible from a 100 dollar note (bearing in mind you have to pay in US dollars!). Nevertheless , we crossed an hour later and cycled up the plateau to the Costa Rican town of La Cruz. Tiring climb was kindly rewarded with great views of the pacific coast at sun set! Priceless!. Supper in the park - pineapple and snacks. Collapsed planning a visit to see the leather back turtles in Tamarindo. Cycled: 57km Total: 3431km Another day off cycling as this place was too good to rush passed. Got up at 6 am, could not sleep in our children’s tent as it was too hot and it was already getting bright outside. Enjoyed a breakfast feast of watermelon, local funny looking mango and avocados on the beach. A bit of a leisurely walk and snuck off to a well frequented organic café run by an expat couple; top quality coffee roasted on the premises followed with banana chocolate chip pancakes and rich chocolate brownies. Refill on coffee was free so we left with strong dose of caffeine and “Simpson eyes”. Spent an hour inhaling the sun on the un-crowded beach, but while walking back along the beach to the town I kicked a massive rock (accidently) and broke my middle toe (nice!) . I suppose I will have to continue the trip with a purple, swollen toe! Ice cream, beer and more sun ended up with pink or red coloured skin on my chest and a painful sleepless night to come… Teresa even suffered a little sun burn too . Strolling through the nightlife we met a fellow traveller from Bocas del Toro (Panama) Heinrich (English Dutchman who lived and travelled abroad) - He also only had 2 weeks left and was heading for Managua (the capital of Nicaragua) to return to Germany and work as a plasterer in Lake Constance. Discussed everything from liver problems (after too much travelling/drinking) to the political situation in Libya and the problems expected in the UK. Great location to soak up the atmosphere of San Juan in a lovely wooden bar when enjoying the evening breeze. Lazy start with coffee in a “Nicas” café overlooking locals gathering in a courtyard (only men), for a political debate of some kind. Packed our bags and checked out by about nine. Walking with the bikes along the cobbled road passed many colourful Spanish colonial casas owned mainly by foreigners. Stopped for an obligatory ice-cream on the main park outside cathedral. Tried to get multi-tool replacement for the stolen one. Managed to only find a cheap and nasty set of allen keys (will have to do the trick). Hopped on to an American school bus, just to return to the point where we were two days ago (did not want to cycle the same route twice). The bus patiently waited to fill itself with passengers for over an hour in the roasting hot sun - we were constantly barraged by refreshment sellers walking from front to back, trying to offload their over-priced wares - although the pineapple patties were lovely. One young boy, Gustavo (aged 12 selling cordials in a plastic bag with a straw) decided to sit with us for 20 mins before finally leaving and asking us for 5 peso. Rivas town was mega busy, stocked up on a huge selection of fruit and passing tired looking old casas (colonial houses), we left for the border crossing to Costa Rica. Had to ask for directions from the traffic police (no road signs as usual), and headed against the wind towards frontier. Around 15 km from Rivas we arrived at a big road junction and threw a coin on where to go. We turned right and cycled for the beach resort of “San Juan del Sur”. A bit of a climb uphill and a few breaks (taking it easy), and shock horror we bumped into a fellow touring cyclist! Originally from Bristol, on a route from Alaska to not sure where, had a chat and we arrived in the resort together. Couldn’t find accommodation, but had a drink and another chat about Rohloff gear hubs and quality/merits of various equipment. He has done already 1.5 year on route and his Rolhoff was 8 years old with serious mileage (a good advert). He said he’s doing the same route as we intend to in Costa Rica so we are bound to see each other again. San Juan had a surfing competition and massive music festival on the go so no accommodation at all in town. Couple of beers on the beach followed by an intensive search for a roof over our heads came with a chance of putting up our tent in the central patio of a guest house for the bargain price of 6 us dollars - perfect! Showered and unpacked, we headed for sunset on the beach front. Beach front bars followed by a lavish ice cream. The town was heaving with action but the majority of the people were on the nearby beach where the main concert was taking place. Headed home to sleep just as the entertainment was really kicking off - 6 a.m. starts and cycling during the heat of the day aren’t the best recipe for late nightlife! Woken up by the early noise of the passing trucks and random conversations - the watch displayed 5 am. Packed , thankful and a bit unfresh (…), we headed north for Granada. About 20km later we stopped in a town called Nandaima. It was a bit of a shocker. Absolutely undiscovered, colonial beauty - slightly tired but pleasant. Stopped on the square in front of the church and had a coffee with citrus sponge cakes (freshly baked) – perfect for a high calorie breakfast after 3 hours of cycling. The young waitress told us where we could repair Teresa’s broken spoke. The garage (opposite a medical centre), turned out to be multi-vehicle service centre and after sending someone to get the spoke from the shop nearby, the bike got professionally fixed (thanks boys). Back on the road with hardly any hard shoulder but even less traffic. We passed tabaco and honey producers before we strolled into the suburbs of Granada with high speed going downhill. Midday sun, crowds of American, Israeli and cruise line tourists balanced by beautiful multi-coloured colonial buildings. International week of Poets has just started and the government was also promoting stands for the different regions of Nicaragua. We both agreed that the town has a Seville (southern Spain) like feeling. Found an affordable colonial hotel, showered and cycled out for a cool down beer. While sitting in the bar and discussing Nicaraguan news in Spanish, my bicycle got mugged and I lost my multi tool and a handy spare lock from my saddle bag. (we could not quite see the back of the bikes from our chairs ). I paid the price of not being vigilant in a big city. Late lunch at a riverside Soda was fulfilling, followed later by a fruity milk-shake and a coconut ice-cream - got to over the top on food stage. Half an hour’s rest and a shopping session was interrupted a few times by random strangers asking for cash. Relaxing afternoon in the colonial casa. Gentle evening , strolling along the streets of old Granada with the sound of Nica-spanish crossed songs. The lake boulevard has past it’s best or had never actually had it. Strange, it should have been the prime location. Nevertheless, the town is special enough without the waterfront makeover. Spent the evening wandering the pedestrianised main street, soaking up the live music from the tourist bars, and supping more Tona beers in a local cafe. Watching the world go by on the square's bandstand steps, Tadek was chatted up by a couple of 15 year old girls - we assumed that they were either blind, simple, or were part of a plan to disconnect our computer and camera from our possession. The plan failed and we wandered, peacefully back to our casa. Cycled 40ish km Walked less Woken up by the birds in fantastic location between volcano and lake! Absolute jem. Breakfast with wonderful views after a very late start. Total peacefulness and relaxation topped with the gentle background of various bird song. Splendid! Set off at around 10am and 10km down the road we visited a “precolumbus” museum of indigenous Ometepen ceramics. The spanish guide spoke some English and we had a good laugh. The next destination was the biggest town on Ometepe, Moyogalpa. We got there for late lunchtime and had a healthy fruit session followed by a meal and several portions of ice cream. While grazing we decided to jump on the ferry to the mainland realizing then February has only 28 days and our flight to Havana was closer that we originally thought. The ferry ride was extremely rough but the sweet old wooden feel to the boat compensated for the wet clothes from stormy waves (We spent half the journey fully expecting to see our bikes fly off the roof into the lake). Never would have imagined a serious storm on the lake, but clearly it is possible. We cycled out of the port then stocked up on biscuits and water. There were no road signs (something fairly normal in Central America), so it was not easy to find our way to the interamericana which we needed to take toward Granada. This bit of the main road going across central Americas had a small bit of hard shoulder and the traffic was not too bad, hence we ended up riding for good an hour and a half. Just as we were tring to find somewhere to sleep, I got a puncture. Twenty minuntes later, in a strong full moon light, we headed north but there were no hotels on the horizon. We asked several private farmers for assistance but they all where too scared?! A motel and a grotty bar for truck drivers would allow for me to stay, but when they realised that Teresa was with me, would not let us stay (must have been really bad!). Another 20 min ride in semi-darkness and we arrived at a police checkpoint . After our questions about accommodation, they would not let us cycle anywhere and told us to camp behind their building for safety. They kept bikes on their patio just in case (bless them). They even asked if we are not hungry. Slept soundly even with the roar of trucks stopping and gearing up. Cycled 40ish km Lovely breakfast in our colonial hotel followed by a quick orientation chat from the waitress. Walked around town and visited the open air museum and church next door. We rode out of town and decided to cycle around the smaller volcano first. As soon as we entered the eastern part of the island the road changed into a gravel and rock nightmare. Somewhere close to Merida village a spoke snapped on Teresa’s bike. The not very sophisticated bike repair shop was not able to provide 28 inch spokes! He told us that we should be fine to cycle to the main town like that. We tried to go around the island but the road just got progressively worse . We gave up and got back to lovely “Ojo de Aqua” – a peaceful tree covered lagoon with every variety of birds from the island flying above it. An idyllic spot for sunset retirement after a hard graft on the bicycle. Not having booked a place for the night we had to cycle fast trying to cut towards the beaches on the other side of the island. It took us much more time than expected and we ended up cycling in the moonlight. Arrived in the port of San Jose del Sur and met a Dutch guy on a BMW motorbike traveling from Alaska to Bolivia in South America. He was setting his GPS and we were desperate to find a place to stay (and find out where we were). In the end we went for the closest beach spot and found an oasis overlooking the lake. The staff was very helpful and the hostel grounds joined a much posher hotel. We stopped, pitched the tent and watched the world go by while tucking in to our packed supper and available Wi-Fi from the hotel next door. Paradise!!!! .. |
Teresa and TadekInexperienced cycle tourists of Cuba, Costa Rica, Panama, Nicaragua, Thailand, Laos & Cambodia Categories
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