The road conditions were not as bad as we had expected to face today. Whilst the news services on all the televisions here are showing people being rescued from rivers and mudslides, the majority of today's riding was in conditions not much worse than a very severe storm in Perth.
The principal challenge has been the pot holes in the road surface. Once these are filled and there is an inch of water sitting across the top of the roadway, the pot holes become very difficult to see in advance. Even at a reduced speed of 60-80 kph, there are still quite a few wrist and shoulder jarring moments.
Lunch was at a small roadside stall. We felt SO reassured by the sign on the front door at we just had to stop and eat there.
Despite the signage, the tucker was excellent. The food in Central America has been consistently sensational, and we are all coming home a few kilos heavier than when we left.
At one point in today's journey, Ty seized the opportunity to plough through a deep pot hole whilst riding directly alongside me. The effect was a drenching with stinky brown mud (again) that left me trying to clear my visor and wipe grit from my neck at the same time. Ty was laughing like a hyena over the intercom and thoroughly enjoying my discomfort.
He was still laughing a kilometer or two later - just before he dropped into a pothole that was deep enough to buckle the front wheel and have a lasting impact on his future sex life. Gotta love that instant karma. There was not much that we could do roadside, so Ty limped the bike into the next town with the front wheel bumping and the handlebars shaking. We visited a local mechanic to borrow a piece of wood and a sledgehammer so that Matthias could bash the rim as straight as possible.
In one of those 'only in Central America moments', we were stopped about 2pm from the Nicaraguan border by an officer. He was clearly on the take, and wanted to see our papers and other documents. When he found that everything was in order, he then kept asking for other documents (unnecessary ones) until he found something that we did not have. There was a 'fine' attached to not having this document, and we were bracing ourselves for yet another donation to the endlessly corrupt and greedy Nicaraguan police. This time however, Matthias got quite cranky and argued with the officer loudly. He eventually said "We will not pay this guy anything. Look, he doesn't even have a gun. Let's just go". So, with the officer still gesticulating and making a scene, we simply mounted the bikes and drove straight past him and his sidekick. The look on their faces was priceless.
Entering El Salvador from Honduras at the southern border post must surely be unique in the world. Due to some interesting and convoluted process, you are actually stamped IN to El Salavador, then you go BACK to be stamped out of Honduras. This makes absolutely no sense at all, but as we know from bitter experience, the only thing worse than the system is trying to f... with the system. It's best just to smile bemusedly, and get on with the farce.
We have stopped about 70km from the border in San Miguel for the evening. This is supposed to be a sizable city, but we wouldn't know. We have simply stopped at the first available hotel, squelched our way into reception, and asked for two rooms.
Gear Note: the DriRider motorcycle jackets just cannot cope with this much torrential rain and let quite a bit of water through to soak the rider in these conditions. As an experiment, this morning I unzipped the internal waterproof liner and wore it outside the jacket as an overgarment. This approach has kept me mostly dry, and quite a bit warmer throughout the past 11 hours of almost non stop rain.
Dinner then bed ...
Location:San Miguel, El Salvador
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