We motored out from Granada this morning in high spirits - clear skies, smooth tarmac, and a short day planned to get to Leon. It's funny how quickly plans change.
As we travelled up the side of the first mountain in the Jinoteppe area, a heavy mist settled in that reduced visibility to less than 20 meters at times. This is a little disconcerting on a motorcycle, particularly given the Central American penchant for overtaking at any time. At least the Nicaraguans
are marginally more sane than the Hondurans in this respect, but it was still very slow and cautious progress.
Once over the top, the mist changed into a cold and driving rain that soaked all the gear we had spent the past two days drying. Cold rivulets of water manage to find their way past the heat-sealed seams of wet weather riding suits to create soggy patches in the most uncomfortable places. Is there any such thing as truly weatherproof wet weather gear? Boots quickly filled with water again, and the offered that lovely 'feet immersed in tray of ice cubes' experience.
After an hour or so, the weather cleared as quickly as it had arrived, and gave us our first clear view of what was to come. By mid morning, the road had deteriorated to a shocking state. It was still nominally paved, but in name only. The entire surface was pockmarked with deep craters, washaways were frequent, and it was impassable to cars.
The potholes are difficult to judge, as the muddy water gives no indication of their depth. You start by bracing for the worst, but quickly get complacent and hit them at speed in a spray of water and gravel. The danger in this is that every now and then you barrel into a hole that is deeper than expected and has a steep exit edge. This sends a jolt of pain up through the wrists and elbows that reminds you to take it easy. Managing a speed of about 80 was the best we could do and still maintain a degree of safety.
Approaching washaways like the one above is always fraught with trepidation because there is no real way of knowing what lies underneath. It's simply not practical to get off and inspect every one, so we have nominated Matthias as the sacrificial goat. He belts across with (hopefully) enough forward momentum to carry him through if something collapses.
The underside of these washaways look alike this:
At times the bitumen surface disappeared altogether leaving a surface of slippery and deeply rutted mud. It was in one of these sections that we had our first 'off' for the trip. Gary came unseated at the tail end of a deeply rutted section without enough forward momentum to carry him through. He performed some brief handlebar gymnastics before being deposited unceremoniously on his arse in the mud, closely followed by the bike. Degree of difficulty: 8, execution: 0 - no gold medal for Gary. No real injuries sustained to bike or rider, other than a fatal ego wound.
We arrived in Leon as a bedraggled mess, and squelched our way into the foyer of the hotel Austria. Gary remained outside briefly to attach gaffer tape to his ripped pants. There was some suggestion of using the same tape on his ego as well.
Leon is a pretty little city of about 150,000 people that sits about 100km from the pacific coast and the same distance from the E Salvador border. We had a clean up at the hotel (first warm shower in more than a week- bliss) before heading out to explore.
Grand central plaza
Streetside commerce
Read the sign at the front. Che would be so proud ...
Streetside barber at work
Bike touring, American style. Someone has watched a few too many episodes of Long Way Round. We have discovered that you really don't need any more than a tank bag full of gear to sustain yourself for an almost indefinite period on the road. I have no idea what is in all of this kit, but I am damn sure that the bike isn't much fun to ride anymore.
One of the best things about touring on a bike (lightly) is that you distill your entire sphere of responsibility down into just that one bike and bag. Everything has a purpose (preferably several) and there is nothing excess to requirements. Gear is compartmentalized for quick and easy packing and access. From fully unpacked to 'strapped on and ready to go' takes less than 5 minutes.
I think some people try to 'pack' for an entire trip and for every eventuality. This takes away some of the necessity for 'roadside innovation' but it also reduces that sense of immersion in the local environment, and it puts a sense of distance between the rider and the 'locals'. To some extent, we WANT to be able to rely on interaction with the people around us and their goodwill. We WANT to stop and ask about road conditions rather than receive a satellite map update. We WANT to scrounge for food in local stall rather than have all of our own cooking gear and ration lacks. It sometimes seems that the more technology support we have, the less we really engage in the things we have travelled half way across the world to see and do.
Rant over ... back to the blog. Big day planned tomorrow as we intend to have a go at volcano surfing up near the top of Cerro Negro. Should be a hoot.
Location:Leon, Nicaragua
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