HOLY FRIJOLIES, One continent down one more to go!

Alright I am going to try and keep this short. Every time I think that I've seen it all I get broadsided by something even greater.
Just when I thought the rain had given me its worst I was blown away. It took place in Costa Rica just after leaving Jaco. As the day began to unfold it was quickly shaping up to one amazing day. The roads were fast and rolling the sun was shining and on my left aggravated waterfalls threw their masses down from the vegetation capping the cliff sides, on my right the pacific ocean threw itself at me. In between giant Iguanas lounged in the grasses under palm trees. Before I knew it fifty miles had slid by, time to take a break. I was only off my bike for a half hour but everything changed in that short time. The clouds rolled in and blocked out the sun turning my road into a dark and spooky path. The road abruptly ended and the rain started falling. Not a drizzle slowly building up into a down pour but it started as sheets of water and was relentless for the rest of the day. The road, using that description loosely, was the worst I have seen yet. Huge ruts and rocks pounding my body into putty. It got so bad that with pride only a straight man can understand I broke steel as I stopped a unnatural object from forcing its way into my annal cavity. My moment was short lived as I soon realized the with a broken seat post I would not have the luxury of a seat. If I was in charge, when one side cracks you would be able to turn it up-side-down put the seat back on and be off, simple right? No they've gone and tapered the post so it is smaller at end. Anyway, no seat, least of my worries. The water was flooding the roads everywhere. I had to cross about two dozen rivers that were flowing over the road. Half of these were over a meter deep and required me to take my trailer off my bike and carry each part above my head as I waded across. The rain never let up.
There was a light at the end of this day though. I was held up at a bridge where a Semi had rolled over and was being pulled away from its precarious resting place by a tractor. I looked as if it would be minute or two before the tractor would have the wreckage pulled to the side so traffic could continue. As soon as all the wheels were back on the road progress stopped for the police and on-lookers to loot the poor truckers belongings. Things wern't moving along as fast as I thought they where. It had gotten dark, it was still raining and I was tired so I lifted the torn fiberglass body that used to cover the engine and pulled my bike through to the other side. I rode into Uvita and though the rainy drizzle I saw a shimmering light, my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim I had to stop for the night... or something like that. It did remind my of an old scary movie. The light was the Tucan Hostel and it had a vibe that surrounded it. My spirits were lifted immediately after a few minutes talking with Trey and the rest of the staff. Thanks again guys!
Panama was spectacular some of the most enjoyable riding I've done. The camping was good and even when I couldn't find it anywhere I was able to stay at fire stations.
I chartered a sailboat to get me to Columbia and after I arrived in Panama City I found out that it doesn't leave from the city itself but from Port Venier on the Caribbean side on Panama. I had two days before the ship was set to sail and thought I would have to buck up and relax for a couple day. With this new information I quickly decided to bike there. Not as easy as it sounds. The hostel I was staying at did an excellent job trying to talk me out of going. After listening to their worst I packed up and headed out, it was 100 miles away and I had two days to figure it out. The road into Darien on my map stopped at the border. The Darien region of Panama was always described as a place to avoid and was taboo even in my mind. Soon enough I found myself watching the black sign with white letters that spelled out "Darien" fly by me as easy as any sign before had. I wasn't too surprised to see the road continue deeper into this forbidden region, not as surprised as some of the people watching me ride into it. I had I couple of concerned motorists stop to make sure I knew what I was doing, so far I think I do. Near a town named Llamo a road started north. All I knew of this road is that was going to be hilly and only vehicles with four wheel drive could manage its rough terrain. I spotted it instantly and turned onto it to start my first hill. This became the first hill since the beginning of the trip that I was not able to ride I had to get off my bike and push/pull the thing to the top. From there I came across the first descent I was unable to ride and walked my bike down. Soon there after the second hill I couldn't ride up/down and then another and another. I think I only road 80% of this forty mile stretch.
One of the scariest moments of realization washed over me as I woke up in the jungle packed up and started along the road I was surprised to round a corner and find a person walking toward me. I quickly noticed that he was carrying two rocks, one in each hand. I was a little timid approching him but he greeted my with a huge smile. He was very happy to see someone else out here. We talked for a while and I asked him why he was carrying the rocks. He explained that he had been walking for a few days now and was currently being stalked by two large puma. They had been following him for two days that he is aware of and at two occasions he had to chase them off with rocks when they got too close. At once all my surroundings closed in on me and I began to feel claustrophobic. I was scared to be alone and without anything to fight with. A what in the ---- are you doing here Sam? echoed in my mind as I sheepishly looked forward and started moving again.
One of the best views I've seen was once I crested yet another unrideable hill I found myself looking out at the San Blas Islands dotting the blue and green Caribbean Sea. I was so happy and it all looked so close. It wasn't, and only after two more hours of painfully slow progress did I arrive at a large river that bisected the road. I was dreading having to cross this river with my bike and began talking to some very amused locals sitting on the river bank. They could sense my trepidation and asked if I wanted a ride. I wasn't sure what they meant I didn't see any vehicle. They explained that I could follow the river out to the sea. I felt a little silly at that moment. Soon I had my bike loaded up into a long giant canoe and with one person siting on the bow and one in the rear we paddled into the current. It was straight out of a national geographic film with the jungle over hanging the sides of the river. Alligators and giant lizards along the banks and monkey screaming at my from the tree tops. The river ride was too short and soon we were in the open but sheltered waters surrounding the San Blas Islands which include 200 islands all together. Some big enough for a handful of palm trees and white sand beach while others were big enough for small villages. The Island I was trying to reach was at the north west end of the chain near the boundary of the reef. I looked pretty silly standing on an island 300 feet wide 600 feet wide with nothing but my bicycle. There I was though, right where I was supposed to be. All the was missing was the Roxy, the boat I had chartered. I was able to call the captain and was informed that he was picking up supplies and on of the village islands and would be by in about two hour to pick me up. Nothing to do now except swing in a hammock and drink a cold cervesa. Ulf, the Captain of the Roxy was very surprised that I had made it.
The next three days we sailed around the islands swimming, snorkeling and fishing. They were very sinful times. I think I covered three very well, Gluttony- Christina, Ulf's wife was an excellent cook, Sloth- no way of getting around it, and jealousy- I envy the life Ulf and Christina have found for them selfs. They are currently sailing around the world and have stopped to make some money taxiing travelers back and forth between Panama and Columbia. I may have infringed on another daydreaming of Lindsay.
I grew up watching Monty Python and sneaking late night viewings of The Benny Hill Show. I love that English wit and humor. I had four other ship mates on board two of whom were from London, James who was a tall guy who seamed shorter until you stood up next to him, and Tim who was a short guy who seamed tall until you stoop next to him. They were an odd couple and kept me entertained the entire voyage. It may have even been too much if not for the Canadians, Jen and Allison, there to keep a balance. We sailed under a full moon and my surrounding felt so distant from what my life has been like lately.
Which brings me Columbia. Any time someone asked me what my favorite part of the trip has been I always replied that I have been most impressed by the Yukon. Now I think I have a new favorite. I have seen pine trees and palm tree in the same veiw. The mountains are far from disapointing. The villages and citys are beautiful. I could go on for a while about why but I fear I have already gone on too long so I'll finish up here. One continent down one more to go. It feels good to be on South American soil.

Nicaragua at last!

Jose, Puerto La Libertad, El Salvador

Edgar Rivas at the Mizata Surf Lodge, El Salvador

Al...Taxisco, Guatemala

Oscar...Retalheleu, Guatemala

Reflections (Jake, October 23rd, 2007)

Sometimes I remember that I'm living in a great story. It just hits me all of a sudden. Like waking up quick from a dream. I just smile. And I live right through it. Then I think about how I better start trying to tell about it. Next, I wonder about how to do that when my life seems so surreal. I'm witnessing something that existed in my imagination for years unfold before my eyes.

Time passes. Things happen. A lot of things. We keep going. More happens. We keep pedaling. Our travels through Central America have been like a whirlwind, which seems like a strange thing to say while having only a bicycle to get from place to place. But with so little time between borders I've been waking up forgetting what country I'm in, and constantly thinking about how far I am from the next or last one. Every minute and every day is exciting. There's a new currency in my wallet every time I open it, new signs to look at, new people and vistas---just a fresh feeling about traveling across countries I had only seen on maps my whole life. We've met so many warm and genuine people in each place, had countless exchanges and encounters, and shared so many special moments with everyone who's path we crossed.

From Retalelheu, Guatemala to Jaco, Costa Rica we traversed the landscapes, through wind and rain, sun and clouds, on rough back roads and smooth highways. Roads winding through enchanting green forests, meandering across pastures or overlooking the mighty Pacific. We've rolled into little pueblos where everyone waved to us and wanted to show us around. And across bustling cities, where we picked our way through traffic and sometimes through people, looking for the road to escape the noise and the madness---people shouting, horns beeping, engine brakes groaning, loudspeakers blasting, people selling everything from fruits and vegetables to watches and sunglasses, toys and candy. In the countryside we rode by men and boys on horseback, through fleets of guys carrying supplies home on their beater bikes, past women walking with loads of wood balanced on their heads. At times there were crews of workers on the roads, sometimes swinging machetes to clear the brush. We saw a ten-year old kid on his bike herding the family cattle back home for the night with a stick. We've seen whole families on one bicycle or even motorcycle, and kids sitting on the crossbars of amigos' bikes to get into town. I remember groups of kids running to the edge of the schoolyard screaming to us with excitement. We put up our hands to wave as we pedal, and smiles are passed all around. We hear the kids outside their houses shouting---"Gringos! Gringos!" as they run to get a closer look. Cars are constantly beeping at us, mostly in a friendly way, but sometimes its a big rig or a bus, trigger-happy, trying to tell us its gonna be a close one. There are trucks overflowing with bananas and unbalanced tractor trailers bouncing around as they speed along. Pickups are filled with people, we see guys standing on top of buses, farm equipment puttering along, cars left behind after accidents, bus graveyards. We cross bridges every day, sometimes over crystal clear water where women are washing clothes with the rocks on the banks. Other times the water looks like chocolate milk, stirred up from the fresh rainfall in the mountains. I've seen hundreds of white cranes spread out across swampy farmland, feeding on whatever's in the water. Lizards scurry across the road, and vultures pick at roadkill. We see armadillos and iguanas, snakes, monkeys, alligators and of course dogs, dead and alive. There are stray horses, chickens, roosters, donkeys and cattle all over the roads; bikes, cars, trucks, and people moving through it all.

And then there's us, out in the middle of the show. There are barely rules on the roads down here, but it flows somehow; everyone figures it out. There are a lot of close calls and scary maneuvers, but we keep going. When traffic mellows out, we can listen to the chirping of the birds or the wind, maybe the thunder in the distance. Sometimes we can hear the sound of the rain as it bounces off the surface of the road. We hear waterfalls rushing as we pedal through storms, looking ahead to the headlights coming at us. And sometimes it gets quiet enough for us to listen to waves break over black sand beaches as we pedal along.

As the night falls, we seek shelter and a place to sleep. One night in Guatemala, a nice guy named Oscar, who spoke a little English but had a harelip which made either language almost impossible to understand, gave us a deal on a room at his hospedaje, showed us where to eat dinner, brought us to the post office the next day, cleaned our bikes, and got our laundry done. He was a memorable character, one I will never forget, just a true person. We shared mutual delight over having connected. In many towns, one person has stepped up as a tour guide for us, anxious to show us around, tell us about the town and the people and ask us endless questions. Another night in Guatemala, we slept outside a restaurant where we had to stop to find food after 110 miles and Al, the owner, made us a free dinner and told us wild stories about his time in the states. Other nights we spent in seedy hotel rooms that we crammed all our wet gear and tired bodies into, trying to dry everything with fans and get some sleep. Shelter is a must through these countries during the wettest month of the year.

People see us and they ask, "Donde viennen?" and we tell the story..."Commencamos en Alaska. Cuatro meses aqui. Mucho pedalian, mucho trabajo....Vamos a Argentina ahora... Cinco mas meses. Una grande viaje!!! Some people don't believe us. They think we're joking around. Others make a face like they're in pain, and ask "Porque?". Answering that one in Spanish is a tough one, but we try. Our level of communication through words is very basic, more than enough to get us by, but not quite enough to say what we want to all the time. We are reduced to simple elements of human expression much of the time---hand gestures, smiles, laughs, sounds, with bits of Spanish mixed in. It's very human. We learn new words and phrases every day, but it seems to be a slow process. Sometimes now I have Spanish popping up in my crazy dreams.

Occasionally we run into people who speak some English and we're able to sound like ourselves again for a little while. On our first night in El Salvador, we made a decision to push forward near the end of the day, with not much for towns showing on the map. Worn out from the border and wondering what we might find for shelter to spend the night, we cranked along, and over eighty miles into our day the ocean appeared to our right out of nowhere. At the top of a hill, we stopped to walk into the weeds to the view. It was a beautiful sight as the red sun worked its way down through the thin clouds towards the horizon. But we knew we had limited time to find a home for the night, so we hopped back on the bikes. A sign that said Mizata Surf Lodge pointed us down a rough dirt road to the beach. We followed. We found a great spot, run by a guy named Edgar Rivas. He had Salvadorian parents but had grown up in SoCal, and he decided to move to El Salvador and nurture a surf destination. The lodge had beautiful, modern rooms, well-manicured plants and grass, and a pool with surfboards lying around it. It seemed out of place hiding in this little town down on the beach, but we were pleasantly surprised to have accidentally found it. Edgar hooked us up with a room, dinner, and some great conversation, and he helped us figure out the rest of our route through the country with the maps. He was so nice to us, and very curious about our project.

We were all stoked on yet another random experience. He and his staff made our first night in El Salvador very memorable, and as we headed out early the following morning, we took pictures and lamented about how we couldn't stay and chill for longer. This is the case on many stops for us. It is the nature of our mission, really, to blow through these places so fast in the interest of staying on pace to finish in the spring. But we see so much, we just need to push on, we need to keep it moving from one adventure into the next and realize it’s all exactly as it's supposed to be. “It is what it is,” we like to say.

The next day in El Salvador, we rolled into Puerto La Libertad, where we decided it was time for my hurting rear wheel to be rebuilt on a new rim. We found a rim and a guy named Jose in a repair shop who was willing to do it. It was one of those times where I was struck by how crazy the moment was. I broke it down in my head real quick. "We're in a bike shop in the middle of El Salvador. We rode our bikes here from Alaska. Spoon's talking to some guys in broken Spanish with a wheel that's shot in his hands, trying to get them to understand that they need to build a new wheel with our hub and spokes. We're negotiating prices and times, trying to figure out if we can ride more, so much happening at once. This is crazy!"

Deep breath.

By the time Jose was finished it was too late to get many more miles. So Duncan rented some surfboards and we checked into a hotel on the beach and enjoyed our extra time there. I flailed for a while on one of the boards, and Duncan and Spoon rode some waves. At the internet place, we finally received word from Building with Books about the location of the school in Nicaragua that we had funded. Analyzing the maps, we were on the first step to the climax of our Central America adventure, a side trip to visit the school in La Bonansa. After a nice dinner, some sleep and a breakfast in the same spot, we were out of La Libertad . Or so we thought. In the morning we realized the new wheel was built with an incorrect spoke pattern and was out of center. It needed to be rebuilt. Spoon made the final decision. So we went back to Jose, and told him to do it again. Luckily, he did, and it rolled much better, but it wasn't perfect, and as we limped out of town with a late start on third-world parts and bikes tired and rusty from all the work and rain, we wondered how long it might be before another wheel went or another mechanical issue would hold us up and change our plans in a flash.

We were frustrated by the hold-ups through this last stretch. Flat tires became a nuisance, threatening the productivity of our riding daily. Our tires were second-rate and we were running out of tubes. Patching became something we had to do even at night to ensure less stoppage time on the side of the road, as they ate into our daylight. Even waking up at 5:30 am every morning, we only had around 12 hours of light to get our job done, and we were cutting it close near dark here and there. We began to worry about the slowing of the rapid pace we'd kept through Mexico and into Central America.

But in the midst of those worries, we were nearing a major climax on our trip, a visit to the school we had spent two years raising money for. The story of our trip to La Bonansa is one I’d love to tell.

As we neared Nicaragua, we learned more and more about the school's location and what it would involve to get there, and about the people who were in Nicaragua who might be able to help us make it happen. We had to analyze a few things. There was no possibilty of riding the bikes there. We would have to rent a four wheel drive vehicle in Estelli, Nicaragua if we were to make the trip. The roads to San Juan del Rio Coco, the closest town to the tiny village of La Bonansa were in very bad condition due to the heavy rainfall we had been witnessing first-hand. Rivers were raging and flooding, and one bridge in particular near Tempaneca, a bridge we had to cross, was impassable as far as we knew. So, as we sat in a hotel room in Choluteca, Honduras (on our only night in that country), we wondered what would happen with the weather, and the road trip, and everything our near future held for us.

There was nothing we could do in the morning but ride off in the rain, prepared for a long border day into a new country where we could find out more info. We were shooting for Estelli, and as the time ticked by in the morning we climbed for fifiteen miles through the pouring rain. Twenty more and we were in Nicaragua. But several flat tires and minor mechanicals slowed us down, and the border was slow moving and confusing. We had to settle for the closer town of Somoto, where we checked into Hotel Pan Americano, and went to find out more info.

At an internet/phone place, we called one of our contacts with the Peace Corps, and he informed us that they had all been evacuated out of the north near where we needed to go. We called our contact in Estelli. He seemed to think we could make it to the school. We weren't sure what to think. So we slept and woke up another day to more rain. It was 45 miles to Estelli with a five mile climb near the end, the sun even came out for us in the hills and on the flat stretch to the small city. Much of the land outside of town was flooded. Many habitations were filled with water. Heavy humidity hung in the air.

Later that afternoon, we were finally able to make contact with our liaison, Anibal Cruz, the Building with Books scout in Nicaragua. He had just returned from a trip to another part of Nicaragua, where he was looking for suitable spots for them to build more schools in 2008. They try to find places where kids are learning without a school. Its an amazing process really, such a wonderful program. Anibal met us briefly at our hotel to find out what our plans were, and was off to get info on the rental car. He lined everything up, and returned to accompany us to dinner. Anibal had lots of questions over dinner and some Tonas (the most famous Nicaraguan beer), and then he brought us to El Chaman, one of the local discoteques. He had the band announce our project and we watched them play jubilant music as everyone crowded the dance floor. We were overwhelmed with the way everything was playing out with our trip to La Bonansa; it was difficult for me to sleep that night.

Next I knew, I was behind the wheel of a 4wd Nissan truck with a crew cab cruising along at 100+kilo/hour on the Pan-American, retracing the route we'd come in on through the small jungle-covered mountains on a nice sunny Nicaraguan morning. Anibal, our guide and translator, sat shotgun, Spoon and Duncan were in the back. And before long we were out on muddy, logging roads stretching through the hills, bouncing around in the truck as it lurched its way through giant mud puddles and over soft, uneven freshly churned narrow roads. We would see people walking the road. We'd pick them up and continue along, exchanging smiles as always, dropping them off when they tapped on the window. It took nearly four hours to get to San Juan. It was a wild ride through the jungle, up and over steep hills and through epic mud. We arrived a bit tired, and as we checked into the Hospedaje Cima up on the hill in the trees, overlooking the rest of the small, isolated town, I looked out into the Nicaragua wild stretching on towards the Honduras border to the west.

It wasn't long before Spoon had followed the cheering to the local baseball field. He was the only Gringo up in the stadium seating above the field when we found him and we caught the final moments of the game. The local team had won the championship in extra innings, so we watched the trophy ceremony over a few more bottles of Tona. And we followed the celebration to dinner, where we met many of the players on the team and Roberto, the owner of the local coffee company and sponsor of the team. On the back of the players' jerseys it said, "Esperanza del futuro," the logo of Roberto's company.

In the morning, we piled into the truck once again, and Spoon drove us the final stretch to La Bonansa, away from the nice cobblestone of San Juan and back out onto rough muddy roads. The Vice Mayor of San Juan del Rio Coco, Hector Gonzalez, was out on his motorcycle surveying roads that needed gravel work. We stopped and he thanked us for our work with BWB for the school. Back in the truck, traversing the mountains, the new school appeared before our eyes, buried deep in the jungle, and Anibal showed us the old "school" just up the hill, its black plastic roof practically collapsed on the jeep under it (see pictures below).

The students were shy when we came into the classroom. Anibal introduced us, and we gave them candy and answered a bunch of questions. We took pictures outside the school and had the kids jumping up and down and screaming. Everyone was smiling. I stepped on an anthill while trying to get some video footage and my feet started burning. I looked own and my feet were covered with little red ants. I started flipping out, trying to whisk them away. I had to run over to a water bin and dip my feet in to get them off. The kids got a good laugh out of my perfectly timed folly right in front of everyone.

It all happened very fast, but these are moments the three of us will never forget.

The drive home and the evening that followed gave us all some time to absorb our experiences in the north. We had one last dinner with Anibal, who had become a great friend to us in so little time, and we felt like we knew each other well. We told stories about our lives, drank Nicaraguan rum at his request, and cherished the last moments we would have together. As we said goodbye, I thought again about how lucky I was to be meeting all these amazing people and be travelling through these great countries.

Four days and 350 miles later, we arrived in Jaco through the pooring rain. There was a three mile climb right at the end and we were all worked and as wet as we could possibly be. I was dripping as I walked into an internet/phone place on the main strip. The guy at the desk didn't even want to let me use a computer when he looked at me. I was like, "Esta muy importante, amigo. Por favor, una maquina, cinco minutos." He handed me a plastic bag to put on the chair. I had to see if this girl, Laura, had emailed me directions to the house she had for us to stay in. Our friend Pete Woodring, who runs the Goran Kropp Memorial Fund in San Francisco, hooked us up with this girl, Laura Campodonico, also from the Bay area, who lives here and runs a local magazine, El Chunche.

Before long, we'd figured it all out and we were getting a tour of our own private resort right on the beach, donated by our new friend. We couldn't believe it. To go from being homeless on bicycles in the pouring rain to having someone we just met for the first time show us around our own house for the weekend is just impossible to live through without a little disbelief. Later that night, Laura, the boys and I enjoyed a good laugh while we told the story of arriving in town and compared perspectives. They are great hosts and great people. We are so happy to have had them be part of our journey.

And now, here in Jaco, as we hunker down for our push to Panama City, we think back to all this and beyond. "We've gone from Grizzly bears to crocodiles," Spoon said the other day. We've lived an amazing five months, so much spinning in our heads and with our legs, and we know it will continue as we push south. We're feeling rested and recharged, fat and happy, supplied and prepared, ready for more action out on the roads.

We've now done over half of our 16,000 miles and we are ready for the next challenge---facing the continent of South America, where we will continue to make the story.

Jake draws a map of the world on the board

Spoon and Duncan give out some candy

The boys with the teachers

With the Vice Mayor of San Juan del Rio Coco, as he thanks us for working with them on the school

The team talking to the students

On the road trip to San Juan del Rio Coco, with our host and translator, Anibal Cruz

The new school

The old school

Nicaragua- Pics at our School in La Bonansa

Centro America, Halfway?

Rain drops sting my exposed skin as my tires cut a wedge through the accumulation of water that cannot run of the sloped roads quick enough. Even in mist of the thunder storms that surround me the air is warm and thick. It feels appropriate as I almost need to force it into my lungs. Its been a productive week. In seven days I have rode through five different countries, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and now Costa Rica. This has been one of the most amazing weeks of my life. It has been difficult and rewarding. Each country has left its impression on me and I love each one for what it has given me. In Guatemala I was invited into the home of a very poor family and spent hours talking and playing with their many children. The nieve curiosity and bewilderment over my camping gear kept me laughing for days. In El Salvador I saw some of the most awe inspiring coast line imaginable and spent the night swinging in a hammock 300 ft. above the crashing waves of the ocean after the owner of the restaurant I had eaten dinner at insisted that I sleep on the patio of his cliff side establishment. The next day I spent an hour or more talking politics with a gentleman who used to work on wall street but prefers the simple life El Salvador has to offer. Honduras, well Honduras was a great challenge I doubled the amount of flat tires I´d gotten along the whole trip in the one day it took me to cross. Then as a sinister kiss goodbye I ate some bad chicken just before crossing the boarder and spent better half of that night in the bathroom. Which made Nicaragua. I woke tired and road worn. I had no appetite and a long day ahead of me. It was raining hard as I started out that morning and I was fighting a strong headwind. Basically, it sucked. Then at a crossroads I stopped to force some food into my cramping stomach and I ran into a group of Americans from Fresno, Ca. They were there on behalf of their church doing Gods work. I´m not going to say anything else about it but I went into that rest stop feeling like a slug in a bowl of jello and left feeling like a bullet fired into a world without friction. Nicaragua is the second poorest country in the western hemisphere and it lives up to its reputation. I have had a sense of guilt being there knowing how well I have it. My only relief is the thought of the school that will be there for generations of children to take advantage of. I have only been in Costa Rica for a few hours now and it has not settled in yet, only that today I finished a great week where I pedaled 750 miles in seven days and crossed that invisible line that is my imaginary halfway mark. 8,000 miles done 8,000 more to come. It feels good. I have been thinking about my favorite quote today and I will finish my blog with it:

Do not beg the favor of an easy life,
But pray to become one of the truly strong.
Do not pray for tasks proportionate to your strengths,
Prey for the strength proportionate to the task.
-Phillip Brooks.

Mexico Recap. What is inside my brain after one month of Mexico

The bathrooms don´t come equipped with toilet seats or paper. Don´t forget to BYOTP. Napkins work just as well. Squat or else you´ll fall in.

Dead dogs of all shapes and sizes lay in the streets. Its tough to hold your breath when your out of breath but the smell it brutal. The wind also has to be taken into consideration when approaching a roadkill.

Unbelievable amounts of litter line the roads. It is discouraging. I feel silly throwing out my garbage in this country. At times I ask the cashier for a garbage can and she takes it and throws it into the back yard.

I will never forget the great tastes of cold licuados en la manana y horchata after a day of riding. Cold drinks bring hope.

Constant whistling throughout the day. I can´t tell if its birds or people, let alone who its directed to. Do they love us or hate us. We´re definitely Gringos and hopefully we´re not bothering anyone too much.

Big, fat Corona Familiar bottles. Not quite 40´s but they do the trick.

I will always smell the slow burning garbage piled on the side of the road. Rarely flames just a small plum of smoke streching into the sky.

Thats whats inside right now as I reflect on my first trip to Mex. I had to get this out as Guatemala has already begun to force its way in. I expect to be overwhelmed for a long time. Duncan

Excerpt from Jake's Daily Summaries...September 27

I awaken to rooster crows in the distance, catch my bearings, and remember I'm in Puerto Escondido, Mexico, with my bike at a hostel...

its 6:30 am, I lay awake for a while until Duncan's watch beeps at 7:05 like every morning, we all start the morning routine without talking, Duncan and I take a morning walk to see if any stores are open for breakfast stuff, milk, ceareal, yogurt, fruit, bread, nothing's stirring, we walk across the street to the beach and check out the early morning surf session, finally stores open, we all eat breakfast together at the picnic table at the center of the hostel under the palm trees...

we get a good start on the road at 9 am, first 30 miles are pretty flat and fast, some rolling hills just off the coast, we can see the blue water stretching out a few k's to the right, I lead to start, good easy morning pace, fast but remembering I need to finish 85 for the day, Spoon, Duncan and I are riding together, Sam's ahead, Spoon relieves me at the front after 10 miles, sets a great pace for 40 minutes, and then Duncan leads the charge to close out our first 30...

we stop for some water and Manzana Lifts at a roadside spot, then we work our way into small mountains for second push, I'm feeling good, its a good day, good energy, we're all rested and fired up to be back out on the road, I sense it and feel it, feels so easy to pedal the bike and I feel so fast, Sam's pace all of a sudden seems do-able, so I stay on his wheel, we're on ripper roads, small easy gradual climbs into fast turny downhills, there's not too much traffic on the roads and we're crushing it, fast average speed, Sam and I blow through the section very fast and stop just before we hit 60 miles at a junction with a little soda snack shop, Spoon and Duncan don't show up for a while, I'm worried they had a mechanical...

Sam and I talk with some of the Mexican kids there, bust out the maps, tell them about our journey in Broken Spanish, ask them about what's ahead on the road, I have several cold drinks and two sandwiches, the boys come up around the corner, Spoon had a double-flat situation, they're a little worked, Duncan says he's so happy we stopped at this spot and goes right for some cold water, they eat some pb and j for lunch, I have more cold drinks...

we push on for the next stretch, Sam, Spoon and I go ahead for a safety meeting, Dunc meets up with us and we go, I tell Dunc he's badass for being tired from surfing too much on his day off, hes sunburnt and yawning but hes gotta ride 80 miles, I¡m laughing, I tell him its going on the blog, Sam is feeling it too from the surfing in PE, he's tired and sunburnt, thats why I'm keeping up I think, Spoon chases Sam down, he's keeping an amazing pace, great terrain for him, I chase, but I see Dunc falling off so I mellow it out, I'm already worried a burned alot chasing Sam in the morning but I still feel good, no need to push all day, around 80 mile mark at top of climb, Sam is stopped...

we take a little break, talk about maps, we're comparing three different ones, one I found on the side of the road 5 minutes before, there is confusion all day about distances to towns, and now we are in the mountains nearing our daily goal of 85 miles, the maps and signs do not agree as usual, we are looking for a little place called Barra de la Cruz, just off Ruta 200...

the turn comes at 84 miles, we decide to call it and seek out a place to sleep in the town but we don't know how far off our route it is, its a steep hill on a road that looks like a wide sidewalk, winding through the thick jungle-like fauna, the road then goes down a steep hill for almost a mile, I'm laughing to myself as we descend, guessing we'll have to climb it in the morning to get out of the valley...

its a tiny town with very little going on, theres some stray roosters and chickens running around, a few kids running barefoot on the dirt street, one guy is out front of his house in what seems like the middle of town, he speaks a little English and points ud towards the beach, says there's food and places to stay there, we find some little cabanas with beds and fans and cool grass-palm rooves, a whole row of them, very simple, eveything we need, theres no one around except the lady who seems to be the one who will rent them to us, things happen so fast, its hard for my mind to keep up, we kind of all agree, crack some beers and keep discussing what the heck is going on, we take off our shoes and celebrate another day in the books, life is good, I'm stoked on the day, we find a little pizza joint up the dirt road, the town is an obscure hidden surf destination, lots more people around in the winter months, but not many...

Carlos hooks us up with Tecates and pizzas, he's super nice, I run back for a sticker and put it on the surfboard hanging over the bar, Carlos is into our project, and we're communicating best as possible, answering his questions, a group of SoCal guys come in, cool group of guys rolling in to surf the waves, we have some drinks with them, tequila, pina coladas, too much, Spoon and I tell some stories, field their questions, they tell us we're crazy just like evrybody else, they cant believe we're riding the roads they're driving, can't get over it, back at the cabanas we chill for a minute listening to everything around us, unwinding before sleep right into another day, it was a great day I think once again, one more done, and no idea what tomorrow will bring...