Let's Climb

Walking up to the town to find Hospedaje Central, I stare down a guy on a motorbike, and he's doing the same. "No way! It's Steffan from the columbia-panama boat" I mump on his Africa Twin 750n and we head back to his hostel, where we meet the german owner, andlater, Juan, the owner of the 1800 godwing. Sleep well that nigvht in a drom room of 6, but I guess I should tell everyone I sleep talk. That's right. 39 year old still talking away. I can hear my mom right now "did you take your vitamin B's? No. I didn't". Anyways, it was fine. Just a laugh I'm sure.

I forgot to write about Jason's purple shorts. In fact this blog should be called 'The Color Purple'. Briefly, I see a group of Nicaraguan gbuys on the beach, trying to sneak up on guys and throw a pair of purple shorts over some unsuspecting head. They were mine. I wasn't looking for them, but I do remember looking for them last time I was on the beach. So, I just let them have their fun. They got more than 45 minutes out of that gag. My purple shorts.

The walk started today at 520 am. Treacherous at times, and most satisfying. Felt alive, felt good, felt real, felt myself. Funny how a walk up an island volcano does that to you. Reached the summit at about 11am then headed back down with our guide. $25 is how much gave the guide after almoset 12 hours of taking care of us. There was a slight tip.

a video from the summit, about 1600 m above sea level.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OAXqLwuTZtk

Btw, the pics were downloaded in opposite timeline. Gotta stop doing that!

Moving Ahead

Today, I return back into Rivas for the first time in a week to double check the parts of the bike, and then to catch a ferry off to Ometepe, the island in Lake Nicaragua. sfMy body feels very tight and is yelling at me a bit, but all I can do is breath deeply, and focus on relaxing the tired and overworked muscles. Without more than 30 minutes straight sleep, constant worries of money being stolen, I just have to accept it as a pain in the ass and my cross to bear. I've dealt with it since I was 6, and it has to be managed wth lots of relaxation, exercise and good positive loving vibes. This too shall pass.

Changes

Osama Bin Laden is purported to be dead and buried at sea, the polls close on a Canadian federal election, and I decide to walk, in the dark up to San Juan del Surs version of Cristo Redento. Met with a big rottweiler guarding it, but came close enough to say I did it.

A more realistic view on Bin Ladens legacy at http://barrylando.blogspot.com/2011/05/its-mohamed-bouaziz-stupid-not-osama.html

Dos Equis

After that trip of yours YOU are the Dos Equis Man

Walking along the beach with all my belongings, free camping for 9 days, and an inspiring men who walk out in the woods, make their flies, catch and release, and shoot the odd deer. Just living within nature.

Encouragement

After a week of sleeping on the beach with bugs biting, crabs scuffling, dogs barking-fighting, and monkeys howling, it truly all melted away when a friend sent a message about how something I had chronicled awhile ago meant something to her, and she was using it. That, and after almost finishing Christopher Reeves book Still Me, and the courage that comes from needing people and having them come through, will leave me with a nice bit of self assurance to sleep well, and wake up determined to make a day of it tomorrow.

I had given up on people and my place with others. Too many transient moments on the road, not enough reaching out, and not enough people reaching out to me. Constantly feeling disconnected left me discouraged and unwilling to try. What was really happening was that I just stopped trying, too easy to get into the ruts of prefashioned statements and the same old lines. I had past visions of feeling vibrant and alive with people, but somehow I found too much evidence that I was never going to have that again, and gave up. Its there, waiting. Maybe even better than before.

I truly am a creature that needs people. I need their encouragement, I need their attention, I need their feedback. Ive spent a lifetime trying to get rid of it, and it doesnt go away. I just end up depressed neurotic and ambivalent about everything.

The Waiting Game

Waiting really is a game, isn't it? The players who make life a game are the ones who always win, one way or another. I loved playing games as a child, eerything from board games, to cards, to jumping around on the bales and Lone Ranger with real horses. Suddenly, when I started struggling internally early on in my professional life, the games stopped. Perhaps I thought they had to for me to be successful but this attitude adversely affected my ability to get the juice out of my life required to slog through the frustrating bits.

The only thing available for people wanting to make a difference in their lives, and have extraordinary lives is a good mentor, or several of them. Current educational systems are lacking, and parents are too busy with their own lives. Everyone seems to be out hanging by a thread trying to figure it out from scratch. An entire lifetime can be swept away like a riptide.

I was fortunate to have a lot of people in my life that I could use as guidance, but in the end, it is truly an inner journey I had to undertake if I truly wanted to create a life of my own. It just seems too far away now to do what others are doing, doing it the way one should. Too much pain, suffering and struggle to throw it all away and plug back into the matrix. So what now?

Well, (a fitting word considering the depth of the personal challenge) gcontinuing the journey of feeling uncomfortable, and trusting it will all work out. The waiting game - make the most of it, and enjoy the experience. Practice talking to that gorgeous woman over there. Make an effort. Don't stop. And do stop! for breaks, for surfing, but there really isn't any need to go anywhere. They're just distractions. My body is tired, and I don't sleep that well with bugs biting, crabs crawling, dogs barking and monkeys howling. But I will never forget a friend's advice years ago. "Feel the ground, and feel grounded. You are exactly where you need to be right now."

And now a word from our sponsor, "ADD works!:"A mars bar a day at work rest and play!" A friend gently shared an observation that my fb post about toenail painting was not duly recorded here, so here goes.......

Back on the boat from Columbia to Panama, an Aussie girl was wearing what seemed a dark purple (black) toenail polish and I thought "if I was ever going to wear nailpolish that would be the color and this would be the time", but she didn't have any with her, so I marked that up as a 'someday' proposition. The next store I was at on the mainland found me in the cosmetic aisle eyeing up a bottle of purple nail polish. It was only a $1. It was thrown in a bag and forgotten about for a couple days.

Some downtime required some distraction, so out came the bottle of violet nailpolish. It would dry darker I was certain. When I applied it carefully, which in my case meant half on my nail the other half on my toe, the colour was much closer to a bright violet than dark purple, and it stayed that way.

It was really just an exercise in practicing being comfortable with people's glances and remarks, in the belief that it would help me to continue saying what I want, and being who I want to be. I experienced the urge of wanting to hide them up, and thinking of the two girls here, one with an arm defect, the other missing a hand, who would have a hard time covering that up. Probably the most difficult was a dutch guy who I noticed was looking at my toes, and asked his opinion. He gave that scrunched up face and his voice wavered, contradicting his words of "hey, man I don't judge everyone is entitled to do what they want."

Our defects, our mistakes, our problems and our less-than-perfect moments, scrambling to cover them up and hide the evidence. Now, I simply don't have the energy or care. It is the same when someone 'let's themselves go'; it's just easier to ignore the ego's cries of 'I'm not looking good here and I will be rejected' than to go through the effort of putting up appearances. It's easy to say 'I don't care what other people think'. There must be some effort made to keep up appearances; we're designed to feel good if we look good and fit in. Where the distinction must be made is in matters of opinion, religion, 'group-think', and other group forming natural behaviours of humans that should be taken with some salt, and personal differences defended and debated. In the end, noone really cares what we do in the long run, except us. It becomes a cheap excuse to blame others for our failures in living true to our own vision. Sometimes our lives have to become a complete nuclear waste site before we have the impetus to change.

Even then, we may just feel the urge to lay down in that toxic slick and have a nap.

Cansado

430 came early that Tuesday morning, as I had agreed to meet at 7 am in Rivas, and a long bike ride was between us. Walking across the beach for 10 minutes swept the cobwebs away, and was on the road by 5. It was made a longer journey by the chain falling off, and the front basket holding my computer, camera, flip flops and a book, also came loose forcing me to improvise a couple times using materials from the side of the road. I made it there at 740 am and apologized the jose the taxi driver whom I had thought would have still been in bed at that time.

The three of us went over to get Jose's brother, as Jose had an outstanding ticket he didn't want the police to see. We arrived in Managua by 9 then drove around for an hour trying to find the auto parts place, and when we did, he said we don't have any parts for that kind of bike. I was angry but began formulating a plan. It looked and felt very dire indeed. I couldn't rely on my mechanic for sure. We went to the internet shop and I astarted talking to a few people, ending with Dave from Williams Lake, who said he may be able to help me.

I got back, and swiftly took my chinese new bike in to see if I could trade it for something not made out of tin. No. Absolutely not. Not part of the policy. We argued for a bit, then I decided to give her the bike as a gift. She couldn't say anything about that, but seemed a bit surprised and shocked. Then I bought a used one, promptly finding the gears slipping as I left the shop. Chop Suey chinese restaurant, then off into the dark to get to San Juan del Sur, about 2 hour bike ride. Got there in 1 hour forty, in time to find the Canucks game in the 2nd period. Had funny chats with some guys and a Nova Scotian who called me a douche bag for teasing her about Cape Breton - a bit too much I thought.

Heady from a few nica libres (rum and coke) I headed out for the final hour of ride back through the dirt roads to Playa Madera and consequently Mathilda. Handlebars loosened off, and I was catapulted straight onto my head. That hurt and left me a bit stunned. My computer went flying in its bag. Two guys stopped and helped me move the bike off the road. Had to ask directions in the pitch blackness although I had a light. Left the bike then and chained it to the fence as I had to just drag it by then with handlebars listlessly hung by the side. I had left San Juan after the game at about 11 or so, and got to Madera at 330. Woke up at 5 on the outside couch of the Barrio restaurant, as I was so exhausted walking for 5 km, but headed back to my camp to get a couple hours sleep.


The laptop screen had several cracks and I thought was ruined but I can still use it. Seems I landed on it when I came off the bike.

Laid around a lot today recovering from a very sore body, got an email from Dave saying he has all the parts for me but needed clarification on which cylinder (front or back) so I called Jose to run over to mechanics to find out. As of writing do not know yet which as I couldn't get a hold of him. Then, nice conversations with some Americans (lived in canada for a while) courtneysmith.com
they let me come with them back to san juan, as I needed to bring the bike back but what about the handle bars? I needed an allan key and hoped that would be enough but the local surf shop worker didn't have one, so I asked a German guy and his wife who had brought their truck and trailer down to the beach. He had some. And it worked. I came back and we spoke a long while about the earth and troubles. He was an engineer who developed Coke and Beer factories all over the world. www.travelmaniac.jimdo.com

Stripped Down

Canucks

A German, Aussie couple and I made a small trek around the other side of the mountain to hang out in the tidal pools. They were full of scuttling black crabs, small fish and coral-like vegetation. We returned to see Nikki's baby possum, and all weigh in on the moral dilemma of nature vs. nurture. A Canadian couple from Calgary came over to Matilda's and mentioned the Canucks game they saw a couple nights before, and the impending game this night. We've got to go I exclaimed, so we set out for the umpteenth time back to Madera through the rocks and waves, seconded a vehicle within minutes of arrival and made the 15 minute ride into town. Canucks lost again, a disappointing result, but a fun night chatting despite the Czech guy who kept on insisting to me that Canadians love to fight, and that every Canadian hockey player fights. He almost made himself right.

We were stuck again that night in Madera faced with a dark passage along the beach. But we made it.

I was up this morning early, and a good thing because Doug and Deanna, my American ride into Rivas, showed up at Madera an hour earlier than expected. We got into San Juan and had a ecologically minded breakfast amongst several great books for reading at exorbitant prices and the owner's reviews of her fave books. Then, into Rivas, another 30 km, and I was in the back of the truck, and slapped the side when I saw the mechanic's shop.

The motorbike was a shell, really. The motor was ripped apart, and I could see the damage to the piston and arm. Could have made it easier on myself if I had just stopped the bike but on the other hand who knows what would have happened. Took the saddle bags to the next door, then a bike taxi down to a biek shop, purchased a new Chinese built piece of krap bike, made my way back 30 km to San Juan, stopped in at Gato Negro, chatted with Rebekkah, and had my favourite lobster deep fried on the beach.

Then it was a tough ride on the krappy Chinese made bike through the dirt roads to Playa Maderas. 40 km biking today. Now its relax with a book and wait for the surf. I return to Rivas for 7 am tomorrow morning to meet the taxi driver, and the mechanic to head off to Managua to get the motor repaired. Just zen.

Miss Universe

A late departure from Jaco, Costa Rica did not seem like a bad idea at the time, and I guess looking back it wasn't. But by the time I got to the Nicaragua border it was 630, and had closed some time earlier. Back tracking to the nearest town, made a couple stops and thought it was to be one of those nights but happened to find a great little hotel with a pool for $10/night. Fish soup on the menu - bones, crabs and all.

Got off 15 km to the border and the banging started. The little shisters at the border convinced me to give them 30 bucks for a speedy trip through the border but it was the least of my worries. 20 km down the road and I had a huge piece of metal fly off my engine and oil spurting out. That was after about 10 km knowing I should stop but didn't want to push the bike in the heat with the most painful banging noise I was just hoping to hold on but right out of the movies flew that piston or whatever time will tell.

The taxi driver pulled me with his rope, took me to his mechanic friend, the bank, then drove me out to Playa Madera. Was supposed to bring me a pedal bike to buy off him Sat. but never showed. Its just been chilling and surfing on the beach doing my best to settle down. I'm doing allright. I mean, my engine exploded two days ago, and i just said that's it. it's over. the journey is over. But somehow the mechanic seemed hopeful and positive that it can be fixed.

I have been overwhelmingly surprised on a number of occassions, and have no reason to believe otherwise that everything will be just fine. At least it wasn't my leg that blew off that's significantly harder to fix!

Born to be Wild

It's the only song I can think of recalling riding with 9 Harleys through the night to Jaco, Costa Rica.

In other knews, I came to terms with my brain being hardwired for other's approval. In fact, I played out all sorts of games growing up just so I could get the rush of feeling wanted. I even played dead once just to see if people cared. I ended up getting kicked in the nuts!

So, a good friend saved me, or at least I saved myself from calling him. It was in response to another friend's feeling sorry for themself, so I thought I'd just prove a point for myself about how crazy we make ourselves when we're lonely. Loneliness is the ONLY mental illness a human being can suffer from; all other 'illnesses' are a result of it.

Mindlessly using shampoo instead of sunscreen. Bottles are virtually the same in color and size. Costly mistake!

And now it's checkout time and I'm feeling the call of the road. Bike will need to be pushed again power's zapped. Battery is fine it's getting zapped by the lights. next stop La Libertad or near it El Salvador but knowing the borders it will be at least one more stop before then.

New

A new tire, a new attitude, a charged battery and I´m ready to head north tomorrow morning. I just feel more centred than I have been in years. More within my own thoughts, my own feelings, my own direction. I suppose I feel as if my world is my inner world, and as long as I am taking care of it, everyone else can take care of themselves. My world is fine, and I have done the work to achieve it. I am glad to see the Canucks are up 3 to 0, as their loss tonight will take a couple games to recover from.

Expect to get closer to the Costa Rican border by tomorrow night.