In Search of Greener Guacamole

You just can’t do it all, well you can’t can you? 3 months on the road, I could be in South America by now. Others have done it in that time. What did they see? Anything that wasn’t from the saddle?

Mexico was not only massively misrepresented but also underestimated. Sure I could have skimmed on through and then what would I know about it? It’s embarrassing to mention you have visited a country only to add that you never actually saw any significant sites. Thing is, Mexico seems to have a lot of significant sites. Its diversity, charm, and hospitality are intoxicating and addictive, two things I'm partial to. So here I am, still, only now with some big decisions to make. The thing that doesn’t make sense is that on the last trip, 60 days after leaving Essex I was in Mongolia and was rich from the experiences, I've been on the road 3 months and I've only crossed one boarder. I suppose I didn’t stop to sight see on the last trip until I got to Ukraine and this time I just haven’t stopped sightseeing, the average speed is now about 28kmh. Stopping is something that seems to be the common theme of this journey.

Mexicans seem to have mastered the art of sitting around and I always try my best to look and imitate, in an attempt to blend in with the locals. There has been no urgency, no time limits, there was of course a destination but unthinkable distances are best not thought about. Research is best done on route, big fat guide books can be daunting and I’d rather open the relevant chapter when I'm in the vicinity. So 6000 miles and then there’s this beach,

first night we stood looking at the waves crash and the sun setting, drinking Corona and wondering how we are going to get out of this predicament.

The room is £5 a day, the fish is fresh, the sun is browning my flesh, filling in the gaps in my motorcycle clothing tan and once again the wheels are not turning. Apart, that is to go on the daily trip to the supermarket for essential supplies, wearing only shorts and shades it's such naughty trip.

It’s the only time I'm reminded that it’s Christmas is when I hear the Spanish version of jingle bells over the supermarket PA. I’d never go to a supermarket everyday through choice at home epically this time of year. Here it’s still a pleasure and even if there is a queue at the checkout, beyond the trolleys through the picture windows the bay stretches out, a half circle of white sand, palms, blue sea and the constant white surf. It’s one of my favourite queuing experiences.

Then I leave the air conditioned building of all things yummy, into the underground car park and stuff my fresh bread and ripe avocados and camembert into my top box and I'm back out into the humidity and warmth riding slowly with a cheesy grin that’s about to get cheesier. When I reach my luxurious accommodation; I left my £5 room, I decided I was worth more than that, 3 times more in fact for a private villa with a sea view balcony wet room wifi and general loveliness.

If I keep heading south I’ll find myself in a southern hemisphere winter. And if I rush then what would be the point at all. Better to do a few things properly than pass by the best a country has to offer, unaware or unable to stop. Tough decisions have to be made. If you don’t make tough decisions in life you’re not in control of it. I'm juggling 2 things that are important to me. My book and my journey. I thought once it was written the work was over, how wrong I was, it’s only just begun. It’s demanding all my time and attention and it’s demanding more every day. I can’t delegate, no one cares about it like I do. I've given it a year of my life, apparently it wants another year, and how could I possible refuse?

There is a sailing boat booked to take us and the bikes from Panama to Columbia it sets sail on January 31st I'm not going to make it, I want to keep this pace through Guatemala and then if I were to rush to the Panama port where would that get me, apart from a sailing boat to Colombia? I need more time but I’ll opt for less distance. After Guatemala I'm doing a Ueee this will have the advantage of having my bike back where I started to try again next time. It also means I can be home to give my full efforts to promotion on the release of my book at the beginning of March. It all makes perfect sense. And it’s not bad at all. It’s not failure, I think failure would be covering the distance in just 6 months and not seeing all there is on offer.

To pass through a country and see only the road that takes you through it is to transit through an international airport and say you’ve been to that city. I don’t list Braine or Qatar as places I've seen because I looked at them through a triple glazed window as I landed and took off. Equally if a country is only witnessed through a scratched visor it isn’t really fulfilling its potential. The helmet has to come off sometimes. So once again the panniers are in the room and I haven’t put fuel in the tank for over 2 weeks, in fact I haven’t put fuel in the tank for over 2 months, every state owned petrol station has an attendant to pump the fuel for you and take your money I don’t even have to dismount if I don’t want to.

So a U turn is in order. Of all the choices this is the most feasible. South America aint going anywhere and neither will my book if I don’t correct, promote and market it. Thankfully my travel companion is continuing on. I would feel guilty if he gave up on it, I would feel resentment if I guilted into joining him. Now I feel a loss and sandiness, just like I did in Ukraine when we parted ways, our paths will meet again. Our plans were never written in stone, but in sand and the tide keeps coming in.

One thing I won’t miss, and this has been going on for an annoyingly disproportionate amount of time. Every time we order food, his meal is always more appealing than mine. His choice more appetizing, his fish was filleted and it was a bone of contention I found hard to swallow, his guacamole was always greener.

A bike trip with a buddy is a holiday, solo it becomes an adventure. I'm in the same room, nothing appears to have changed, but without my mate, my encouragement and my excuse my tummy is now full of butterflies not beer. One more night, may be two, ah yes, welcome back to the indecision of the individual intrepid traveller, double think it and do nothing, but soon, I too will be re attaching my panniers and moving alone into the unknown. Compact, independent, and no one to blame for anything but myself, oh and monklet of course oh and my publisher,

actually I will always find people to blame. Mission aborted. Target not met. But my mind has not been on the road it’s been on the book. And that is where the story ends. I've got 2500 promotional stickers to pick up in Guatemala City and then I'm gonna stick those little fuckers on every available surface between there and Denver. It’s been agonizing coming to this decision. Its best for all involved and I'm comforted by knowing its right. I have a book to sell about the last trip. If I give it my all may be it will give me the opportunity to make the next trip a sequel.

Looking at an overland website today for border crossing info, its feels like a beginning. Back to the lonely road, where my banter, thoughts and inspiration are only spoken only to my voice recorder, un-distracted, unattached, solo once again and still in search of greener grass.

Orange alert

Orange, there is a theme running through this journey, I'm quite the most colour coordinated continental traveller. Its coincidence I'm sure. Ironic really when the most hated part of my working day was a trip to B&Q (Home Depot, for you Americans) with its heavy focus on orange.

Of all the preparation, aesthetically pleasing and harmoniously matching was not one of the essential criteria. However I can’t help but notice that it’s all come together, mainly when I'm looking at my sleeping bag airing on a convenient tree or post

or when my pants are drying, hanging off of a sun drenched indicator. Even the schedule is playing its part. With over 11 hours of near equatorial darkness I usually, especially when camping get my essential 10 hours of sleep a night, my body just knows when the night is going to get light, although usually there is a cock crow to confirm this. The first thing I see through my fly net apart from some frustrated mozzies, when I raise my head off of my sheepskin detachable seat cover (it supports my arse all day and my head all night) is an orange sky, the first traces of light.

I always try and position my tent so I will get the optimum morning view even if it means my head is slightly downhill from my body.

This predawn positioning can sometimes educe night time indigestion, (heart burn=fire=orange) that however is usually solved with a midnight snack. Don the headlight (which indecently has a switch and strap of the orange colour) and indulge in some silent pannier rummaging. It’s my equivalent of a night-time fridge raid; past the pot noodle, under the protein bars, before the boil in the bag dehydrated emergency meal, lurks some soft and tasty perishables that would simply be wasteful not to eat before dawn. A cup of chai and a peanut butter (orangeish) sandwich, then I sit cross legged in my tent eating, drinking and watching the stars and the fire flies, or shooting my laser torch at distance objects is a fun little insomniac pastime. If I'm feeling particularly studious I can get out my Spanish book which coincidently is also orange.

So it started with the tent, used not abused, a consignment shop bargain. In my nocturnal hours I sometimes try to improve on the design in my head but I can’t, its brilliant especially after my last few trips in my portable Gore-Tex coffin. There are so many more activities I can do in this ‘two man’ tent. It has orange highlights and when I was given my Kelty sleeping bag in the name of sponsorship it too has a strong orange theme; so my bedding and interior tent decor is perfectly matched. I have an inner sleeping sack, its red, but was given to me by an ex girlfriend who is now married and her last name became Garfield, like the cat, who is of course, orange.
But it didn’t stop there. My M&S underwear 4-pack has different colour waistbands (they are perfect for travelling cus I can use a different colour each week and not get clean and unclean muddled up, it also avoids the double check with a close nasal encounter). So I have a distinct orange waistband on my second favourite pair.

If that’s not enough it continues with a Spanish dictionary, my bikes sponsorship stickers, ratchet straps, my disc lock stretchy reminder lanyard, the stripes on my Merrell trainers, and the rusty scratches on my tank. Even bungee cords, which fasten behind orange indicators.

OK I'm scraping the orange barrel now but with the orange trees (the fruit, not autumnal), the dawn skies

and the low charge indicators on my electronics, I'm now subconsciously on orange alert. This is a shorter than usual post, I was thinking of making it a poem but I chose a subject matter that didn’t really lend its self to rhyming. Just thinking about it I could become deranged...ooo wait I think I've got one.

Let’s hope the theme stops before the jaundice kicks in. Hummm KTM