I rode to San Juan Del Sur, a town that has long been commented on as a great place to visit. For some reason it didn’t really grab me. Certainly picturesque but there was something that made my intuition uneasy. Too touristy? Who knows.










I rode around until I found a small guest house with secure parking in the back. It was homely and they were friendly and welcoming. I was sitting in the loungeroom when a young American guy came in with a huff, with dirt all over his back. The lady who had greeted me told him he needs to shower the dirt off. He didn’t understand what she said. She repeated and pointed towards the bathroom and again he didn’t understand.
‘Do you understand Spanish’ he directed at me abruptly.
‘She is telling you to wash the mud off.’
‘Well that’s what I’m doing!’
‘She’s directing you to the inside bathroom.’
‘No, I have the outside bathroom. I have been here a week and that is mine exclusively. I have paid up front.’
‘Whatever buddy, she is saying to use the inside bathroom because the outside one is for the back rooms and I was told to use that one’.
‘Well you can’t use that bathroom because that is mine exclusively.’
‘Well that’s not what she is saying to you.’
‘She is not the owner. What she has told you is wrong. This is my bathroom exclusively and you better not use it.’
This guy was getting quite worked up and I told him to take it up with the owner and I’ll use any bathroom I want. He raised his voice more and was getting very aggressive with his body language. A very strange situation. I just ignored his rants after that and we had another terse interaction a while later and I felt he was gearing up for a fight so I just let him be an idiot.

The circumstances here and the robbery have tainted my time in Nicaragua. I have not had access to my money for about ten days and as a result I've reduced the places I have gone and the activities I want to do because of difficulty accessing my money. I have given the bank an address in San Jose, Costa Rica to send the replacements so I need to get there.

On the other hand I have seen incredible kindness and generosity resulting from what has happened and in the bigger scheme of things it is only two people that have given me negative experiences compared with the hundreds and hundreds who have done the opposite.

I took the situation in San Juan Del Sur as a sign to keep going. I was very close to the border with Costa Rica which will be quite a different place to travel according to those I have spoken to who have been there before me.

The C4 countries of Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua share a 90 day visa time limit and I only had ten or so days left. These four countries are connected strongly culturally, by language, appearance and food. They also have not had the same amount of US ex-patriots settling as has Costa Rica so I’m looking at this border crossing as a bit of a change. Not better or worse, just different.

The four Central American countries have had their different impacts on my journey:

Guatemala is stunningly beautiful, for me the jewel being Lake Atitlan, but Guatemala threw me off the bike five times, nearly ended my journey with a white-water injury, I had my worst illness of the trip, a stomach infection; and had me concerned about Ziggy with the high oil use, which has completely settled down now. I made a couple of great friends.




El Salvador is also incredibly beautiful with amazing beaches, great roads, imposing volcanoes and azure volcanic lakes. People were amongst the most friendly I had met and their generosity humbled me. Being the wet season unfortunately some of the views eluded me and I had electrical problems including being stranded with a flat battery.




Honduras just didn’t fire me up I’m afraid. It felt like it was being environmentally stripped for all it is worth and on a downward spiral economically. The roads were the worst by far of the four countries and one pothole that I failed to see has dented my front wheel and I’m losing pressure. It needs daily vigilance and eventual repair. The Caribbean coast was the highlight for me with different looking people and a Caribbean feel.




Nicaragua has beaten me up a bit with a robbery and at the end some aggression, albeit not from a local. Lack of access to my funds has limited the distance and places I wanted to explore here so there is much I have missed. I don't feel I have given it the best shot. The roads were great and the people friendly and helpful although I didn’t have much opportunity to engage with locals. I had my first blatant request for a bribe from the police when he wrote $20 on a piece of paper. I produced my police report showing that my cards and cash were stolen and he backed down quickly, waving me on. It was a great place to meet up with fellow adventure travellers.

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

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On my last morning in Nicaragua I walked to a coffee place where another loaded 1200GS Adventure was parked and I met Robert from Quebec. He was a very independent guy travelling alone with his sights set on Ushuaia for January. Another rider travelling faster than me. That’s fine, it’s good to connect and see who is around.


I rode to the border near Sapoa after a good breakfast and started the process that is now becoming familiar. Passport stamped out, temporary import permit stamped and signed; cross the border, passport stamped, aduana (customs) start the paperwork for a temporary import permit, pay some fees, in this case insurance was mandatory before I could import the bike, then ride into a new country.


This crossing took three hours, mostly due to an hour lineup for the passport entry stamp as there were a couple of buses that arrived before me. There were signs saying that there were no charges for public processes, encouraging after the corrupt traffic police in Nicaragua. Easy, friendly and above board crossing.




It’s always exciting to enter a new country and the road took me towards the coast. At the little mountain town of La Cruz I turned towards the coast and found only one hostel-like accommodation and they wanted $25 for a dorm room. Expensive at any time but particularly when I can’t access any more money while I was waiting for my cards to be sent from Australia. I enjoyed being on a bit of a rough dirt road again but decided to head back to La Cruz after striking out with any further accommodation options.

Back in the town I went to a couple of places before lucking on a hostel with amazing views over Salinas Bay, and a private room for $12 a night.








I decided to stay for a week and wait out the arrival of my credit cards. Definitely worse places to be. Fortuitously it was the right week to stay put. It rained daily and heavily mostly in the afternoon after a sunny morning but some mornings I awoke to heavy rain. It was a bit unpredictable so I took the opportunity to catch up on some writing, blogging, reading and Spanish language practice.




Every day I checked my messages for news about the arrival of my cards, but as a week passed I was becoming more aware of my dwindling funds.
The owners and staff were great. I was the only person staying for any length of time and others came for a night and left. A local Dutch guy, Marc, who had been living in Costa Rica for over ten years, regularly came in the afternoons with his camera gear to photograph the amazing sunsets and the beautiful view of the bay, aiming for the perfect shot.


He had married a local girl and had a seven year old daughter and was now separated and found himself in a position of low funds, failing camera gear and on the day I left was being evicted from his apartment due to not being able to pay the rent. He was doing photographic work locally but here in Costa Rica apparently payment for services is not rapidly forthcoming and finally the landlord heard for the last time that he was waiting to get paid for this last job…I wonder how many times this story has played out with expats who marry local girls.

On my sixth night, Brett, a cyclist from England arrived and we had a great evening talking about travel and the different experiences of riding a motorcycle versus a bicycle.


He was only one month into his trip and was hitting some mental blockages, similar to what I had done early in my journey. We talked about the psychology of long-term travel, as we saw it.

The six-week mark was important and signified a substantial shift in many people’s state of mind. My own experiences at the six week and six month marks echoed with what Brett was experiencing. I hoped for Brett that things would settle in a couple of weeks.


I had hit the ten day mark in La Cruz and I was certainly ready to get going. There was still no word of my cards arriving after three weeks since I reported them stolen. I phoned Australia to get a courier number or something so I had an idea of when I could access my money. I was gutted to hear that no new cards had been initiated, no new cards had been sent and I had been waiting for my cards for three weeks in vain.

The call centre operator had little access to records and under my card numbers and name could find no reference to the information I had given weeks ago. She told me that it was currently out of business hours in Australia and to call back in five hours for the case to be referred to a ‘solutions’ officer. I phoned back and spoke to a fairly disinterested guy who said he would refer me to a case manager and they would phone me in a few days. That wasn’t good enough. I explained my situation...again...stranded in Costa Rica with no access to my money for three weeks and no phone number. What was I supposed to do? What was his solution?
‘I’m sorry sir, I’m doing everything that I can.’

I asked to be put through to the complaints section where it was confirmed that nothing had been done about replacing my cards and there was no apparent record of my initial conversation or postal address details for the replacement cards. I gave all the details again and was assured that everything would be followed up and new cards would be issued and couriered to me.

Five days later I phoned again to confirm that things were happening. Once again out of hours, the call centre had no available records of my situation. I called back a few hours later and was subject to another disinterested operator. Again I asked to be put through to complaints where I was assured that things were happening.
‘All I want is some communication from you that something is happening. You have my email, I’ve been one month without access to my money, I’m stranded in Central America and I have heard nothing from the bank about what is going on, in fact this is my fifth phone call!’

I’m hesitant to name and shame but when you get an ANZ Travel Card that sells on its reputation and rhetoric of being easy and fast to replace if lost or stolen, one would expect that this is the case. Apparently not.

In the meantime I had accessed emergency cash through Visa using a long drawn out process of 24 hours where they accessed my money and sent it to MoneyGram, a money transfer company. Eventually I had $500 to keep me going for a couple of weeks and decided to move on to San Jose, the capital, where my cards were being sent to a friend of a friend.

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

FaceBook: www.facebook.com/PaulNomadRTW

I had been given a recommendation to visit Montezuma at the bottom of the Nicoya Peninsula so I did a 300km ride through some picturesque country including 40km of poor quality dirt road that didn’t appear on the map as such.


Along the way I felt my luggage shift so stopped to adjust it and realised that my raincoat and pants had fallen off from where I strap them. I backtracked some 20km without success, was stopped by the police for a licence and passport check, stopped into a small town and offered some local youngsters a reward to locate my raincoat, but nothing. Here I was in the wettest country of my trip so far, in the wettest month of the year, without a raincoat and no access to money to replace it. I was starting to feel that all of my gear was abandoning me.

The loss tarnished the rest of my day’s ride, which ended on a rough and muddy hilly road with heavy rain threatening as I pulled into the small town of Paquera. There was only one option for a hotel and it was quite expensive, being a Saturday night and busy. I pulled the bike around the back as the heavens opened up. I was grateful I had decided to stop.

I was doing some serious soul searching now. I had been in such a great mood for weeks and that bubble was burst with the robbery of my money and cards. Now with the failure of the bank to deliver, more loss of gear and daily rain getting heavier and more frequent I was feeling a bit beat up and starting to question my whole intuitive travel ideals. I guess these are the times that become the defining moments.

I had to change my way of thinking. I was thinking like a victim and letting circumstances dictate how I felt and in turn that, I believe, influences what happens to me. I made a decision to put all of these circumstances into perspective. I am travelling around the world by motorcycle, living my dream, doing something that I feel is a great privilege. My cards will be replaced, some of my money will be covered by travel insurance, replacing my wet weather gear will cost less than $100.

Over the last three weeks that I have been waiting, five of my fellow motorcycle adventurers have been knocked off their motorcycles by cars in different countries. Three were uninjured but had their bikes damaged and in need of repair; a young Australian guy was killed outright in the US when hit by a vehicle and a retired Aussie rider in France was hospitalised with bleeding to the brain and multiple fractures when he was hit by a van in front of his wife on a second bike.

In comparison, having to wait a few weeks for some replacement items is nothing and in fact being such wet weather, it may be a forced stop that’s keeping me safe and off the road for the moment. Who knows. Whatever the reason I changed my perspective.

In the morning I was ready for another 25km of gravel road of varying quality and when the tar continued beyond a kilometre from the town, I started hoping it would last for just 10kms of the trip. The rain had gone and the road was mostly dry. The tar continued, winding through lush rainforest,


over a bridge that had recently had the river overflow




and around the edge of the peninsular with the occasional turnoff to a resort, a park, a turtle sanctuary. Eventually I rode into the busy little town of Cobano and turned towards Montezuma. There were 10kms of gravel winding through the hills before the final descent into the quaint little township. I parked and ordered a coffee at a small bar right on the main intersection and got a feel of the place.






Montezuma was sleepy and quiet in this off-season period with a few tourists, a few local guys offering weed and handmade jewellery, and people from the surrounding hills arriving in an assortment of cars, small motorcycles and quad bikes.


I decided I would prefer to be a little out of the township and I found a nice little hotel right on the beach less than one kilometre from the town centre with a basic and small private room at $10 a night. Hotel Lucy. Perfect.


There was no undercover parking for Ziggy but there was a carpark surrounded by a hedge that hid her from passing foot and vehicle traffic and with the cover she disappeared from sight.


I stayed a week, sitting out the daily downpours of the wet season,






walks along the beach








and to the waterfall nearby




and into town for a meal or a coffee, meeting more locals.


The local guys stopped trying to sell to me after a couple of days and I enjoyed a nice tranquil period of time. There was a flow of travellers at the hotel and I met some interesting people from several different countries. One morning I heard the sound of two adventure bikes passing and I followed them up the road. They were two couples from Canada on rented GS800s.


We caught up for a meal and travel talk. Eventually I opted for a change in scenery and decided to head to Monteverde in the mountains. Still no word on my credit cards.

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

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I decided to head to Monteverde in the mountains. I heard it was picturesque and I love to get into the mountains. I packed and said my farewells


then rode back to Paquera and took the ferry to Punta Arenas on the mainland. It was a large ferry that took 45 minutes with some nice sunshine to warm me.




As we berthed in Punta Arenas I walked to the bike and started up. I noticed that my brake warning light was flashing rapidly, so I turned off the bike and started again. I tried the brakes and they felt spongy. I tried on and off a few times but it didn’t make any difference.
I rode across the ramp onto the land and realised I had virtually no brakes. The power assist wasn’t working. I pulled over and spent an hour on the side of the road checking everything I could on the bike but I couldn’t get the brakes operating properly. I decided to ride on to Monteverde, and although the brakes were not working well, they did actually stop me, but slowly. I became accustomed to them after a while but had to make sure I wasn’t in any emergency situation that required fast braking because they simply wouldn’t stop me fast enough.

It was Friday afternoon and I figured I wouldn’t find a mechanic until Monday and I had time to take it slowly to Monteverde, so I headed for the mountains. It was a lovely ride and not much traffic on the highway before I turned onto a smaller road that wound into the mountains. It was sunny and I had about 80kms to go. I felt ok and although confused about what happened to the brakes I was getting used to it and riding with caution.

With about 20kms to go I came to a road junction and a road block. It was just after 4pm and the guard told me that the road would open at 5pm. I knew it was getting dark at six so I was hoping I would get there in time. Good for his word, the barricade came down at five and I rode ahead of the traffic with three other motorcycles. The road wound up and up along the dirt for several kilometres until we came to some trucks and heavy machinery packing up for the day. We had to wait for one of the machines to load onto the truck and the light was starting to fade quickly. Another fifteen minutes and we were on the way in a decreasing quality and width of dirt road, now with oncoming traffic and dust.

As it became darker some fog started moving in. I had no idea how far I had to go at this stage, maybe ten kilometres. The fog made it dark and I could only see the distance of my headlight. So here I was riding at night in the fog, on a dirt road heading higher into the mountains, no significant brakes on my bike and wondering why I chose this place to stay the weekend. I finally saw some town lights in the distance at the bottom of a steep descent and I followed my ever reliable iPhone App to the hostel I hadn’t booked, but hoped had a vacancy. It did.

I stayed the night and in the morning walked around the small town, checking out the options for activities. It was full of jungle swings and zip-lines, but all I could really think about was the problem with the brakes, so I decided to just do a nocturnal walk in the national park. During the afternoon some heavy grey clouds moved in and the rain started and didn’t abate all night. I had planned on entering San Jose on Monday morning but had also been throwing around the idea of leaving Sunday to miss the horrid peak-hour traffic, ever present in Central American cities. Either way I had to leave early because I discovered the road I had taken was closed from 7am to 5pm everyday for roadworks. The other roads were a lot further to travel through the mountains, not a good prospect with my brakes.

I decided to leave on Sunday, ultimately a good decision, and rode off in the dark morning towards the roadworks again. The rain had taken its toll and I found myself in the roadworks area slipping and sliding in the mud. It had been churned up by cars and had some very wet boggy areas. I haven’t ridden much in mud and going downhill, it’s probably good my brakes were not working well because there was a temptation to use them more than I should. I knew I had to keep the power to the back wheel and focus well ahead. I wound my way slowly downhill as the darkness lifted and after a few heart in the mouth moments I eventually came to the turnoff where I had been stopped two days ago. It was before 7am and I was now below the fog and on a nice winding country road with clear skies, heading down to San Jose. I finally relaxed and enjoyed my riding for a while, knowing that I didn’t need my brakes much as there was not much traffic around and not too many sharp bends.

After a couple of hours riding including a stop for breakfast, I entered into the outskirts of San Jose. The traffic was light, as expected, and finally I realised that this was the best strategy entering into a new city. Do it on a Sunday or public holiday!

I rode towards a hostel I had been recommended in the city and found myself in the middle of a breast cancer awareness event after trying six or seven times to access the road that the hostel was on.




The parade was running straight past the hostel so a friendly local cop gave me permission to ride down the street and access the hostel after telling me all about his 1800cc Harley.

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

FaceBook: www.facebook.com/PaulNomadRTW

While I was getting blocked around the side streets of San Jose with one way signs I happened across another adventure rider getting on his bike outside a hotel. This is when I met Polo from Spain riding a Triumph 800XC.






His wife had been visiting him and he was about to take her to the airport. Coincidently he was staying at the same hostel so we caught up later. I was initially planning to visit the BMW dealer but my thoughts talked me out of it. I had been making some investigations into the problem, emailing my mechanic in Australia and speaking with other mechanics I had met along the way. The problem appeared to be my ABS unit, a complex and expensive part. A dealer will want to replace the part. I subsequently found out they will order the part from Germany and fit it, approximately $3000 + labour and maybe five or six weeks. They won’t bypass or attempt to repair it.

Another option is to bypass or remove the unit and reconfigure the brakes to non-ABS specifications. A cheaper option but I needed to find someone who knows what they are doing. Polo has a friend in San Jose, who he has known for most of his life. Their parents were friends. He got in contact and recommended a mechanic who worked on BMWs. Polo was able to interpret for me.

We went up there together and met with the mechanic. He seemed to be saying all the right things but in retrospect there were two alarm bells I should have heard. The first was that his workshop was dirty, messy, disorganized and full of incomplete bikes and parts everywhere.


In contrast, the good mechanics I had met all had immaculate workshops. The second warning was when he took out a GS911 diagnostic tool. This is a tool that can be bought by anyone for a couple of hundred dollars. While many people swear by them, they are not even a close substitute to the diagnostic and analysis machine at BMW dealers.



If I had really been listening to my intuition I would have said a polite no thanks and gone to the dealer for a proper diagnosis. I didn’t. I returned the next day to watch him pull apart my bike and the ABS unit, then sit scratching his head when he couldn’t successfully bypass the unit or find a problem with it.










He then sat and spent a couple of hours searching the Internet. My confidence was plummeting. At some stage of the day he made a grand announcement that it was the rear brake switch that was faulty, and that the ABS unit was actually ok. I was somewhat incredulous because I had mentioned that I had suspicions about the rear brake switch but the cheap diagnosis tool had not found a fault with it, nor with the ABS unit.

He seemed very happy with himself but I was fuming. My bike was in pieces for no reason and I knew he was going to charge me. I decided it was time to leave and let him put the bike back together. I returned two days later to collect the bike without Polo and came across a less amicable mechanic who informed me that I still had no ABS, the warning light was flashing from time to time but not to worry about it, brake fluid spilt over the painted subframe and some plastic guards. He gave me a bill for US$750. I argued with him that he had done nothing to the bike, he had misdiagnosed the problem and was charging me for a failed attempt at anything. He just snapped back at me that this was the price and if I don’t pay I don’t get the bike.

I begrudgingly paid and took the bike, determined not to let him put another grubby finger on my magnificent machine. I was pissed off. The brakes sort of worked for a while, then went back to the residual brakes again. If it wasn’t the ABS unit before that was faulty, it was now. He had ripped me off blind and I was painted into a corner. I decided to take the risk to ride to Panama. I have some friends who had work done at the BMW shop there and they all seemed happy with the work. I didn’t give the San Jose dealer a chance to look at it. Probably to my detriment.

In the meantime my long-awaited credit cards had at last arrived. I finally had access to my money after six weeks of cash advances and money transfers.
Not to forget to mention Pacsafe who were disappointed that their product had failed and sent me a new model replacement to Costa Rica - their cost. I really appreciate a company that stands by its products yet this was way beyond my expectation. Thank you Pacsafe!!


One problem solved but the bigger problem looming.

WARNING: Do NOT use this mechanic. He is a scammer and has no idea what he is doing with BMW Motorcycles
Name: Luis Alonso Barquera
Address: Calle Blancos, San Jose. Costa Rica

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

FaceBook: www.facebook.com/PaulNomadRTW

I packed the bike and headed out of San Jose. The brakes worked ok for a while but soon faded not far out of the city and I rode the rest of the way to Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean Coast with residual brakes again. What was worse, sometimes the power booster worked and gave me good brakes, sometimes it didn’t, giving me the equivalent to the old drum brakes. Even when the booster was working, if I braked hard, the brakes would ‘pop’ and I would end up without the booster and the brakes would release a bit. The brakes were completely unpredictable. I rode very cautiously for the 250kms.

The Caribbean coast has been beautiful all the way through Central America and the coast of Costa Rica is no exception. It is a series of small villages along the coast with a lot of arts and crafts, alternative lifestylers, markets, and a beautiful coast with a backdrop of lush tropical mountains. It had been wet so there were waterfalls, streams and of course puddles along the roads.




I rode to the end of the road to a town called Manzanillo where I stopped for a coffee and dropped into a couple of rustic looking accommodations. They started at $40 a night and I could haggle to $30 but I wasn’t in the mood for paying those prices and continued back along the road until I found a hostel called Rocking J’s that let me hang my hammock and give me secure parking undercover for $5 a night.


The up side was the price, proximity to the beach and the camping section; the downside being that it was a young party hostel and the partying went on until all hours.
Then it rained. For almost two days it rained. I was grateful to be under a metal roof and to have Ziggy out of the weather but there wasn’t a lot to do except watch the rain. There were breaks in the weather so I went for walks into the township and discovered Outback Jacks.




All in all it was good and a nice break from the city of San Jose. I can’t spend too much time in cities and need the beaches and some remote nature to recharge my batteries. Unfortunately it didn’t make the problem go away with Ziggy so on the final morning I made preparations to cross the border into Panama via Sixaola.

It was not exactly raining, not exactly dry, just showers, some heavier than others. I made my way to the border and found the immigration building on the right and my passport was stamped out. It was another 100 metres to customs (aduana), a small single-roomed building on the right. They asked me to pay an exit fee, just a couple of dollars, but I had to use my credit card in a machine and it didn’t work.
I was directed to a small shop down some stairs at the side of the road and across a lower road where I paid the fee, obtained the receipt, then returned to the customs office.

Ten minutes later I was walking toward the bike in the now consistent and becoming heavier rain, resigned to the fact this was one of those days where you and the gear just get wet. I hadn’t had many on this journey so I saddled up and rode towards a bridge past a line of people walking across the border. It wasn’t clear which side to cross on, the bridge with pedestrians to the right didn’t look vehicle friendly so I took the left side and came to a boom gate. A reluctant guard asked for my paperwork but soon became reasonable about the rain and directed me to a building for immigration, 50 metres down a small hill on the left.

The process was quick and easy and afterwards I rode back up the hill to a nearby portable building on the same side of the road to get my temporary permit. I needed insurance first so was directed to another building 100m past the immigration building but it was closed. A local shop owner phoned the number to get the person there and in the meantime I tried to find some change as I had no US dollars. I crossed the road and walked up some stairs to where the pedestrians came after crossing the bridge. There were a couple of rustic rooms at the end of the pedestrian bridge and I was ushered inside a room. I changed some money but was told I had to pay a $10 tax and another $3 admin fee.
‘Let me change the money first so I can buy insurance and after I go through aduana I’ll come back.’
‘Ok’.

Well that was easy! I was expecting an argument but maybe a dripping wet, bearded guy on a bike was enough for them not to push the point. I never returned.
At last the insurance lady appeared so I paid for a months insurance at $25 (later to discover it can be obtained for $15 in the city) and I trudged back up the puddly road to the makeshift aduana office where I was given a seat inside for the half an hour it took to complete the paperwork.
Now finished I headed into Panama on Ziggy.

Sorry no pics that day!

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

FaceBook: www.facebook.com/PaulNomadRTW

Good story, great pictures.

Hi Paul,
I think you are the same Paul Nomad that I tried to meet up with near Lake Baikal in Russia last year, You have inspired me again for another trip, In the UK now working, Wanted to do Africa, but not sensible right now for me, Maybe another look at the Americas next year.
Your Blogs are brilliant, and inspiring,
Ride safe,
Paul, (solowest.jimdo.com)

Thanks Conchscooter...doing a bit of catching up!

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

FaceBook: www.facebook.com/PaulNomadRTW

Hi Paul...I'm concerned...there's another Paul Nomad??? Hahaha no it wasn't me I'm afraid at Lake Baikal but it's on my bucket list!!
Thanks for your feedback. The Americas have been awesome!

PN

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

FaceBook: www.facebook.com/PaulNomadRTW

Three kilometres into the country and I was stopped by an official looking roadblock and had my papers checked. I was concerned about the entry fee I had avoided but everything was fine and I was waved on.
Next stop was the ferry town for Bocas del Torro, Almirante. It was an old port town with a couple of motels, shipping containers, trucks and some heavy machinery. I stayed at a motel near the port for $25, sheltering in the heavy overnight rain. I had already decided not to go to Bocas del Torro because of the brakes.
In the morning it was raining. I packed up in the rain with a bit of shelter from the roof of the hotel, just in time for the rain to stop and a street parade to start.




It was ok because as I looked towards the mountains I was riding through this day, they were shrouded in cloud. This was going to be a tough day. The night watchman was still there, a dark Caribbean guy I’d been talking to. He was watching the parade.

‘Is it much drier on the other side of the mountains?’ I asked
‘Oh yes. Much drier. They bring their cows over here because as you can see we have a real lot of green grass. In fact over the other side they have to give the cows glasses so they can find the green grass.’

His broad toothy grin made me laugh so hard that I temporarily forgot about the ride ahead of me. Six hundred kilometres through the mountains via the town of David, to get to Panama City. Lots of rain, not much brakes.

I took a deep breath, started Ziggy, waited for a break in the parade and rode off towards the mountains. As I did the clouds started moving aside and for the first time that morning I had a clear view of where I was going. In true style I returned to the town and started heading the wrong direction…I do that quite a lot. One u-turn later and I was on my way.

The rain eased, the cloud cleared and the first part of the ride was through beautiful lush tropical greenery winding south alongside the mountains on my right.


Eventually I climbed in elevation and started to really enjoy the ride. There were patches of sun, patches of cloud, steep inclines and declines and as I rode higher there were beautiful views accentuated by the cloud. Eventually the cloud became fog and I slowed to a crawl for several kilometres. Slowly it lifted and as I let some other traffic pass me I started my slow winding descent towards the pacific side of the country.


It was a day of parades. I was held up along with a line of other traffic, while the only road through a town was blocked for two hours for the parade.






It was one of the several Independence days. Independence from Spain, or the United States or Colombia? I wasn’t sure. But there was plenty of Panamanian pride. Eventually free, I moved ahead of the traffic and enjoyed a couple of long straits of dry road to open up Ziggy a little and I think open up my concern for the lack of stopping power. Winding through the mountains I enjoyed a beautiful ride through the mist.














I was on the final descent and wound around a corner to find a quaint little coffee shop. The rain had started a little again so it was a good time to stop. Eureka! This was the best coffee I had tasted in ages! I savoured every drop and ordered a second. It was a locally grown bean and it was strong, smooth and delicious.


Eventually I reached the junction with the road from David to Panama and although I had only covered one-third of the distance, the rest will be relatively straight and no doubt with more traffic. I headed east for a couple of hours and as the light faded I found a little town with a local room for accommodation and bedded down for the night.


My view in the morning as I left.

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

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The morning was foggy as I headed off early to reach Panama. It was more or less a straight road from here, not as interesting as the mountain road with much of the road to the next town of Santiago under repair or construction of a new road to either side. After Santiago the road became better and was actually smooth for most of the way. My iPhone had failed to start charging and I thought I would be up for another replacement. The immediate issue was that I had no map so I approached blind, the looming towers that make up Panama City.


I continued over a mini Sydney Harbour Bridge…the bridge of the Americas…and there was Panama, a conglomerate of skyscrapers, each trying to express their individuality with shape and form, each trying to reach higher than the rest.

I had no map nor any idea where I was going. The roads split regularly into overpasses, underpasses, big looping circles feeding into other arterial roads. It was really a guessing game and a bit of luck to make a decision quickly enough not to run into the wedge of concrete that separated a split in the road.

I followed one of the splits and wound around into the port area, not really where I was hoping to go. I found my way back to a major road pointing to the city and took another side split. This took me through a jungle of high-rise slums and I knew I didn’t want to be spending any time here. Eventually I found an inner city area with a range of hotels. I shopped around and took a room for $35 for the night, hoping to find something better tomorrow.

I pulled into Bavarian Motors BMW Plaza around midday and asked for Arturo. He had been the contact and help for another traveller, Martin when he was here getting repairs on his motorcycle. Arturo spoke good English and we chatted and talked about the problem with the bike. I met Hector, the head mechanic, and they asked me to leave the bike for diagnostics and they would contact me tomorrow.


I had been looking at some hostels and decided on one in a suburb called El Congrejo, an area recommended by Martin and some others. It was only a short taxi ride, maybe 4kms from the workshop to El Congrejo but finding the hostel I had chosen was another matter. I soon found out that taxi drivers are all private, they charge a minimum of $3 for each trip but if it is a little on the complex or longer side they will try their hand at asking $10. They also don’t know where a lot of places are, do not have maps or GPSs and if lost will stop and ask or phone a friend. One hour later we were unable to find the hostel but had passed another one I had seen online so I decided to stay there.

Mystico Hostal Spa was a welcoming place with comfortable lounges, spa baths, sauna, massage service and a choice of dorms or private rooms. I booked for three nights and was shown around the building to my room, the kitchen and the outdoor terrace. It was clean and comfortable and at $15 a night including breakfast, the dorms were not the cheapest around but half the price of a hotel and in a great central place. So began my extended stay in Panama.

I returned to Bavarian Motors the next day and was told that my ABS unit was not functioning and it would cost $3000 to replace and take four weeks for the part to come from Germany. OUCH!! I had avoided hearing this news in Costa Rica and had taken a cheaper option with a recommended mechanic who had ripped me off for $750 and left me with no brakes still. I decided to have a look around for a second hand part to reduce the cost and eventually found one with a supplier in Texas that offered a money back guarantee. Trying the cheaper option again. Hector agreed to fit the part that I would supply.

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

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I ordered the $1200 used part from Rubber Side Up in Texas and it arrived in just over two weeks. I discovered that Panama does not deliver mail, nor do they have signs on their many postal buildings scattered around the city. It took me five days to actually locate the part once it arrived in Panama. I found the building to collect it and was directed to a customs officer. In Spanish he was telling me there were fees for importing a part. I asked how much. He took a piece of paper and wrote six lines of fees and their subsequent cost. $116!! The part was listed as $400 in value.
‘That’s more than quarter of the value’ I argued.
‘Ok, ok, just wait. Tranquilo.’

He walked back into his office for a minute then arrived with a new figure…$80.
Ok now I could see the game. I would expect to pay maybe $20-25 for a tax but this was to line a corrupt official's pocket. I offered to pay by credit card. No, no cash only was the expected response. I opened my wallet and I had $40. I offered him that and he took it immediately with a smile and a handshake! Part in hand I arrived at Bavarian motors and happily handed it over to Hector and now Ziggy would be ready by the end of the week.

Two days later I received an email from Arturo. The part I ordered was faulty. I had to send it back and buy a new one. My only option was to have them order the part from Germany, but I had already lost three weeks.

I decided to walk to Bavarian Motors to think about the situation. On the way I happened across a Husqvarna dealer with some high brand motorcycle apparel. I stopped in and spoke withGus, the mechanic, who struck me with his knowledge of my bike and had come across the problem I had. After discussion he told me he could get the part from the USA in 6 days. He would order the part, have it delivered to his courier company in Miami and three days later it would be here. Not only that, he would order it under his name and get his discount so the new part would cost just over $2000 plus delivery, $1000 cheaper than my other option.

I packed the other part up for shipping back to the USA, and good to their word, Rubber Side Up refunded me in full. The part through Gus was going to be my better option, 6 days versus 4 weeks, so I ordered it through Gus. 4 weeks later the part arrived, on Christmas Eve.

I can’t even start to explain the ups and downs of frustration getting told about delay after delay. The part travelled from the warehouse to the distributor in 10 days, not three. Then the distributor wanted $885 to deliver it. Pure robbery. They sat on it for over a week. Gus was giving me little information, telling me it was happening. Finally I stepped in and demanded the name and numbers of all these companies. I contacted a friend in Miami who pushed from that side. We eventually had it transferred to another Miami distributor…3 days…who had it to me in another week and a bit, at $35.

I handed the new part to Hector on the morning of 24th December, but he had other jobs booked for the day. He said he would work on it on Friday, test it on Saturday and I could collect it on Monday. He surprised me by working and testing the bike on Friday and gave me a call Friday afternoon that I could collect the bike on Saturday.

I couldn’t believe it! I went in early and for the first time in 7 weeks and three days I rode Ziggy out of the workshop and back to the hostel.

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

FaceBook: www.facebook.com/PaulNomadRTW

Meanwhile I was killing time for 7 weeks, never knowing how long I would have to wait. My original plan was to be in Panama for a week at the most then head to Colombia for two months. Now that time has been spent in Panama so my original schedule is completely out of the window. My first month was particularly frustrating but as time went on I met people and started to go out and enjoy living in a city.
Casco Viejo - the old city:











San Blas Islands:










Playa Venao:








Friends and Parties:

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

FaceBook: www.facebook.com/PaulNomadRTW

So finally on the 5th of January, 2015, two months after I limped into Panama City with no brakes, I boarded the ferry to Cartagena, Colombia, South America.
A new year, a new country, a new continent, a new journey of experiences.
Ferry Xpress is up and running. (It stopped running in mid April so not sure what the future is). The trip took 23 hours, five hours more than scheduled due to high winds and choppy seas.




The booking was easy. Go to Ferryxpress.net and get info about the ferry. Their phone number is +507 380 0909 in Panama and +57 5368 0000 in Colombia. You can book and pay over the phone or in person at their Panama office, but not online. I booked by telephone.
Ferry Xpress leaves Panama every Monday and Wednesday at 7pm and Cartagena every Tuesday and Thursday at 7pm. It stopped running in mid April so not sure what the future is


I was told to arrive in Colon at 8am due to aduana (customs) processes. It was not very clear exactly what paperwork I needed when I booked. I expected the usual import and insurance papers, registration, licence and passport. Have lots of copies of all of them. The one I missed was a police clearance issued by policia nacional who do an Interpol check on your vehicle before you leave Panama.
I arrived at Jetty 2000 (9.213641N, 79.533474W) at 8am with a bunch of camper travellers


and Aduana officials arrived at 10am. At 10.15 it was clear I was missing a form so I was sent to the local Policia Nacional office (9.215203N, 79.541489W) where I waited in line for 1 hour to find they didn’t do motor vehicles at that window. I was taken next door and told that the motor vehicle person was on a day off, so they would send someone up from Panama City. It would take three hours. Two hours later he arrived and my bike was inspected and VIN number checked. I waited another hour and a half for the Interpol check. At 4.30pm I had the form in hand. In the meantime I had other paperwork completed by Aduana. You can get this form ahead of time, valid for 8 days, from Panama City…recommended.


I was then allowed to ride to the ferry terminal. I was asked to unload my soft luggage for scanning (I don’t have hard cases) and then had to reload. I was sent halfway up the long building to check in which I did. By this time there were lots of passengers lining up. I was told to go to immigration next but I explained I had the bike to load so they let me go and I subsequently forgot about immigration so my passport was not stamped out.
My passport was not checked again.

I returned to the bike and was escorted around the side of the building to the berth where I waited for ten minutes. I rode the bike onto the ferry via the passenger ramp because the vehicle ramp at the back of the ferry was not functioning.

Staff strapped my bike down and I was alone in the huge cavern.




Unfortunately for the RVs, the wind had picked up and they were not allowed to board. I was told the reason no cars are going on the ferry is because they load at the rear of the ship. In Panama the ship can only berth along the side. If there is any wind above 10 knots the ship is unstable in the perpendicular position from the berth and is dangerous to load cars. So they cannot position in the perpendicular position now, hence cars and RVs are not being transported until Panama builds a suitable addition to the berth. There is no such problem in Cartagena.
Costs
Insurance $30
Aduana Inspection $15
The 18 hour trip to Cartagena took 23 hours, arriving at 6.30pm on Tuesday after getting away at 7.30pm Monday.

The sea was a bit rough and the wind very strong during the whole trip but the ferry was pleasant and not affected by the weather except for the time.










In Cartagena I loaded the bike and rode off the rear vehicle entrance and was told to park while I went through immigration. They stamped my passport in without a mention of the lack of exit stamp from Panama. Being the only vehicle, I had the undivided attention of aduana who were friendly, helpful, good humoured and they had the paperwork half filled out. They walked with me over to the bike where they checked the numbers then a separate check from the police and the paperwork was signed.

I was out of the port in just over an hour with one of the port officers phoning my contact in Cartagena to come and collect me. I was given 90 days for the bike and myself.
Costs:
Aduana inspection: $25

The Ferry
Ferry Xpress is huge and takes some 1500 passengers and 300 vehicles. I was the only vehicle on the whole ferry, so cost viability for the company has to be questioned. I booked a seat and everyone in that area lay on the floor to sleep. Plenty of room. You can also book various cabins but the seats are reclining and comfortable.

The ferry has a disco, several bars, two restaurants, duty free and various other things. Unfortunately they try to make it a ‘luxury cruise’ and charge accordingly. I noticed a lack of good service and goodwill. You are not supposed to take food aboard but the shops have limited hours and expensive, small meals. Everything is charged. Wifi is $5 per hour, water can’t be refilled, it must be bought, drinks are smaller than standard size and there is not a great choice. Some blankets are provided but only the first 30 people get one. The savings of a cheap crossing can quickly increase due to the costs onboard.

The ship itself is clean and bright and new. There is ample access to outdoors but a lack of comfortable seating available. There were about 30 deck chairs. There is a bar on the top deck which is a good place to hang out but there is little shade and with the white paint is glary and hot. The airconditioning in the disco and inside bar was set at arctic, and was too cold to stay more than a few minutes. The staff are approachable but if you ask something and they don’t know the answer or can’t help, they just say ‘no’ and put in no extra effort to help out. The vibe from them was a bit formal and unfriendly.

Although I have complaints about certain things, it was a comfortable cruise. The Panama end was quite disorganised and a lot of running around from one end of the terminal to the other with no real connection between processes. In contrast, Cartagena was friendly, helpful and efficient. There was no hint of bribes or dodgy dealings and I never felt unsafe. Given I was the only vehicle, it’s hard to say how long the ferry can stay in business without the income from vehicles - Only six months it seems. If it takes a long time to get the Panama end sorted out then we may lose this cheaper way to cross.

__________________
When you come to a fork in the road…take it!

BLOG: paulnomad.blogspot.com.au

FaceBook: www.facebook.com/PaulNomadRTW