A precious Jewel in the Caribean!

It may have been a hard decision to detach myself so completely over Christmas, but it was the right one! Regaining contact with the world today, has shown what a delicate balance my emotions are still in, contact brought tears to my eyes immediately. I didn't want to spend Christmas day in tears, so detachment was the only way. No-one, who I shared the day with, had any idea about the series of events that seem to rule my life at present. None of them had any idea of the grief I carry so close to my heart, and why should they have? If I'd been an emotional wreck I'm sure I would have explained; I wasn't, so there was no need to put a downer on anyone elses special day.

Coming back from diving on Christmas eve saw a squall of really heavy rain, I was going to have to lie to you all, tell you how hot and sunny it was! As it happened, I awoke bright and early, 6.30 am, to a brilliant hot sun hovering just above the horizon. Phew, I didn't have to fabricate the weather to make you all sick with jealousy; it was glorious. There was not a cloud in the sky, we had a crate of beer, fresh Tuna, a bottle of rum, coke and a myriad of munchies. Santa had turned up the night before, he really made my Christmas. Bearing gifts is certainly the way he came; strange though, I never realised santa was a black dude by the name of Rojer. It was good enough for me though, perfect timing for a favoured relaxant of mine.

There were nine of us in the Hotel, no staff, keys to everything, and a feeling of bliss seemed to pervade the ensamble. It was multi-national, two Americans, two Italians, two Israeli's, two Irish and me; who claims no nationality. We all got on well, contributed to it equally, pitched in equally and enjoyed a calm and peaceful time. There wasn't a single present in sight, all day and matter of fact greetings were given all round. No fuss, no bother; the most unchristmas christmas I've ever experienced. And it was lovely for that, no attempt to avoid it; they don't make such a huge issue of it here. Hey, all the shops on the Cay were open; the cafes were business as normal. Pancakes and coffee for seven in the morning, that's what I call service; if only they'd deliver!!

The barbeque was wheeled onto the sun deck, lit by an expert arsonist, and a nice slow meal was set. Yeah, I took over the cooking, I seemed to have the knack of lighting the damned thing, I may as well cook and take the blame if I cremated the food; but I didn't, it was extraordinarily good. Hell, the spuds were even cooked without any scorching. Damn good effort by my beer providers also, I didn't even have to walk the two metres to the cool box and fetch my own. To top it all off Mary JO appeared with some fire poi, so a bit of fire dancing ensued, she was certainly better on that behalf. Feeling bloated and happy we chilled out, gazing at the glowing from the water beneath us. That was weird, it didn't look like phosphorescence, more like a glow worm than a flash.


Curiosity got the better, investigation made me sure it was actually phosphorescent algae. Only way to check was to get in the water, I was only too glad to oblige, and I'm pleased to say I was right. I tried to encourage people to join me for a snorkel, all but one declined. They all seemed to think it a good idea, until it came to getting in the water. Oh well, they are fairly inexperienced as divers, nor ddid any benefit from a resonable knowledge of the underwater treasures available. I enjoyed it tremendously, the algae was so abundant; every movement was awash with sparks following whichever limb I moved. I couldn't help myself, had to get away form the other guy; he preferred his light on, but that made it only faintly spectacular. In the pitch black it was unbelievably dense, I stayed in water for a while, having never been in such a gorgeous bloom as that one.

And that was about it for my Christmas day, I didn't stuff my face stupid with sickening food, nor did I drink myself into oblivion. Everything was in moderation, and appreciated so much for that. If I'd have got really drunk, or really stoned it would have tipped the balance. I would have broken down, an emotional mess, that wasn't the way I wanted this first Christmas without Cai . I wanted to be strong, I wanted to be in control; I was both, for which I'm grateful. I'm hoping you all had a nice time, maybe not the easiest season for many, but a time which must be lived through once a year; whether you like it or not!! I've generally found the more of an issue you make of not liking it, the worse it feels. Accept it my friends, it could be your last!

So this is how I made the most of Christmas, you have the photo's from sunrise, to the lovely one of the moon rising over Utila Island. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, but it just didn't feel like Christmas, my gratitude over that must be announced again; it made a lot of difference. I never wanted to blot Cai from my mind, but organising it the way I did allowed me to detach myself from the last 6months. They've been the hardest I can remember having, but everything dulls down with age. For this year I had my health, my freedom, and the strongest love I've ever known in my heart. What more could a man ask for; other than his fucking son still alive??

Utila - Island of peace and quiet!

Well folks, no fancy pictures to show this time! Purely because the PC I'm using doesn't have a USB port to use. I've made it to Utila in good time for christmas, and will be leaving first thing in the morning, for an even smaller island. Actually it's a small Cay just off the coast here, a small piece of paradise. I didn't know about it until I arrived and whilst there I will have no outside communication, so for me, that means a very quiet christmas. No phone calls, no skype calls, no links to the outside world at all.

Jewal Cay is surrounded by coral, with supposedly wonderful marine life; which I can dive or snorkel to my hearts content. Hey, it only costs $5 a night, though if it gets busy I may have to share a room. I think I can put up with that! I'm going to take five days or so diving, see how exciting I find it now. If I get time I will try and get back here before christmas itself and find another PC to update this properly. I hope you can all understand, I don't want to fill my christmas with constant reminders of being seperated from all those I love; or that I've lost. This is getting harder the closer it gets, this is my way of dealng with it. Selfish or not, I think I need this, so bugger it, it's what I'm doing!

For all those I hoped to be in contact with, sorry! If you care for me you will feel me with you, in mind and spirit; just as Cai is with me! I can't face the pain of facing you, or talking to you. This part of it is my pain, my grief; please don't hold it against me for wanting to face it alone! I'm where I wanted to be, and Cai will be very much with me too!

HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND A DRUNKEN NEW YEAR

I'll be in touch before or shortly after, for a more normal communication.

Hasta Luego, Amigos

Les

In tune with the cloud people.....

What a trek this is turning out to be, but really worthwhile! And what a route, a day and a half travelling through different regions of the Mayan people; though they are very different between Chiapas, Mexico, and Guatemala. Anyway, my slightly convoluted route! Departure from San Cristobel was about 9am on Tuesday heading southeast for Comitan de Dominguez, continuing on the same route towards Frontara Comalapa, the border crossing was just before reaching that town. Once in Guatemala I headed for Huehuetenango, travel from there was more easterly, to Sacapulas, Uspantan and turning south just before Coban. I went through Salamas, well almost, then eastish to Zacapa and on down to Esquipulas; where I'm staying tonight. Much of today has been in and out the cloud base, cloud forest I think is the correct term for it. The home of the Quetzl bird, but no, I did't see one. I never see anything!

It's phenomenal how the countryside has changed throughout these two days, agriculturally and purely the views. Chiapas was dominantly maize being grown, there were huge areas under cultivation. Fruit and other veg could be seen, it tended to be small amounts around the home patch of land, alongside their chickens and pigs. The roads also seemed to follow the ridges of hills pretty close, the roadside was enclosed, not allowing for far reaching views. When they did occur, the hills themselves weren't immediate, they seemed to be away from the road. The mass of hills actually seemed devoid of agriculture, areas of cultivation were in the vicinity of the villages.

What an utterly amazing change as soon as the border was crossed. The land seemed to open up immediately, immense hills stretch out from the very side of the road. Of course there was still plenty of maize, it is the staple here, but there was more variety. People appeared to be travelling some way form their village to tend the crops, carrying heavy loads to and fro. As well as a better choice of crops, the number of animals seemed greater in Guatemala, certainly bovines are a lot more numerous; not just as grazing animals either, they are commonly used as beasts of burden! I even turned round to get this picture.

In fact I had to turn round twice, I'd gone the wrong way, one of the only times I didn´t stop and check my route at an unmarked turnoff. I enjoyed it though, the road was full of beautiful long sweepers; I could lay the bike almost flat and pull it round the bend on the throttle, a lovely feeling! On the return it was uphill, even better; I'd ridden it once and knew it was all good condition. Boy, did I ever thrash my baby up that hill! It was great, I couldn´t get enough of it! And that began the rest of a days thrashing the bike to get to the border, All the following roads were fairly good condition, it allowed me to make up a lot of time.

Yesterday in Guatemala was crossing the highlands, up and down extremely steep mountain roads, countless switchbacks and taking it easy. I wanted to allow myself time to acclimatise to the different country, it feels very different, I wanted to be careful! This morning it took three and a half hours to ride sixty miles, the first twenty were fine; and then came the road construction. I had to ride through piles of loose mud they'd bulldozed into a trench to let me through, the first time I was the only one going through, not nice! The second time I was after a couple of cars, that was marginally better. Altogether, thirty miles of off-road riding, from wet mud to deep, loose gravel. Actually contending with the trucks and buses was the worst, once I passed them it was plain sailing. But it involved an hour long wait while they dug out a section of the cliff, it was better than before; sections were falling out themselves. I'd come round a bend to find my side of the road vanished under a slide of shale, hence why it was a good idea to take it rather carefully.

It was strange seeing the huge selection of different designs in traditional clothes, in San Cristobel they are all present in the one city; this isn't normal with Mayan dress. They are pretty much regional by design, which becomes very apparent once travelling through various regions. There was a dominant style of dress in the city, thick hairy skirts with home weaved blouses, these quickly vanished form sight once once getting a few villages away from San Cristobel. It's impossible to describe the each variation, I've tried to show a few examples. Though very welcoming and friendly, it isn't very easy to get a photo of the women here. I managed with one group, but I had to amaze them with my camping equipment first, and assure them I wasn´t American. That was the group outside the shop above, we had a good laugh, considering my loasy Spanish.

They are really wonderful pieces of weaving, seeing their work on the home looms is cool. They do small picturesque bits, for decorative pieces; I also saw very long lengths, which is what you see them using for their skirts. It's common to see either the same weave or slightly different colours for a little pinny, I assume it saves a lot of washing, the women's day is long and varied; which seems to involve everything. They sort the animals, kids and cooking; walk miles into market some days and can be seem carrying enormous piles of wood on their heads. Its not a man's world they work their balls off doing heavy work all day, and I mean physically heavy work. All the folk work hard, whatever the sex, and kids help out from a very young age. Girls no older than ten carrying the two year old in a sling, for a large part of the day, without complaint. What a delight to see they are happy, always smiling, seemingly content!

Palanque and the Maya.

Hey, I actually took an excursion! Faced with a four to five hour ride each way, returning in the dark, I decided not to take the bike. At only $28 it's hardly an expensive cop out, even though it meant going to a number of other tourist sights on the way. As you can see they weren't exactly a burden; lovely cascades and a waterfall. I went in for a swim, while all the others complained how cold it was. How strange, me being the one swimming in a chilly river, whilst everyone stands outside complaining of the cold. I normally insist on a wetsuit, if not a dry suit! The water was mineral rich, all the rocks in the cascades were calcified. It even made my hair weird, maybe if I'd left it in I could have formed stone dreads!

As it turned out, it was a wise choice not to take the bike. Just as we left it started pouring with rain, do you think it's why they call it a rain forest? Seriously though, this was RAINING, as dense as I've ever seen! If I'd have been on the bike it would have reduced me to a crawl, dangerous in itself; with drivers like ours on the road. People aren't the best drivers in the world here, as I've pointed out, but his guy was exceptional. On any number of occasions he had the tyres squealing round corners, I was sitting up front, those in the back were gobsmacked. They couldn't believe how fast he was driving, I just sat back and relaxed, there was nothing I could do, so why stress about it! On the way back he was a touch slower, due to the solid sheet of water, raising mist off the hot tarmac, and of course the dense darkness of the highland forest roads. I was the only person who made the trip both ways, there were different passengers for the return trip; no, the others didn't chicken out, they were all continuing on from the site, rather than coming south again. It did become a touch worrying when he left he road at one stage, I think he'd gone into sleep mode, mind you, so would I if driving to the drivel he played on the CD player. I can accept fast driving, not bad or ignorant drivers, he was all three. Despite his hints at getting a tip, he got nowt from me; or the others!

Actually I love these tourist type excursions, I can see right through all the glitz, see every part of the scams. Our driver obviously had a few going! Arriving at each attraction, no tickets were bought; all the other minibuses had tickets for all passengers. I should have asked how much they paid, maybe ours was a cheaper option. It makes no difference to me in a way; but when money is going towards preservation work, I'd rather it went to the authorities. Being so much corruption in Mexico, even if going into the correct kitty, it would likely be depleted by private spending.

Once turning down the organised extra, a guide for the group, I got onto site by sweet talk, from guess who, rather than a ticket or wrist band; whatever, I was in. We only had two and a half hours, which was enough! I managed the ruins in about three quarters of an hour, after my own private trek through the rain forest. There was a faint trail, it wasn't completely reckless. Reaching the end of the stone walkway I could hear the howler Monkeys in the distance, what would any curious person do? Or course I had to follow the noise, I could have discovered some previously unknown part of the ruins! Who knows, I might have come across an Ocelot, a Puma, Toucan, Quetzalcoatl or even some lovely butterflies. At least I wasn't disappointed with the last species anyway! I did wonder if the empty Coca-cola bottles may have been the last request of some ancient sacrificial victim, but the imagination can only stretch so far. Bloody coca-cola!!


The current day Maya are a poor reflection of their past days of glory! Relegated to hassling tourists, for whatever pittance they can get. They provide limited varieties, of poor quality reproductions, of the amazing ancient art produced by their ancestors. Poor people, having to resort to this degradation; their main form of raising those all important dinaros. They still dress so colourfully, at least the women do, most the men wear only western clothes. The women can be seen in many different forms of dress, mainly conforming to which group of Mayans they belong to. As we passed through villages all the women would have the same style of clothes, with the same patterning. In San Cristobel you can see a huge variety, as women from mnay regions congregate to sell their own tat. Strange how many men I saw sat patiently at the side of the road, in the heavy rain with only thin shirts on. No, they weren't waiting for a bus, generally just sat talking. You'd see people walking in the heaviest part of the downpour, in no hurry what so ever, seemingly unconcerned. How nice to accept your allotted position in life with such serenity!

San Cristobel de Casa...

For some strange reason today has exposed me to more bad driving than the rest of Mexico put together. For the first time I've used the toll roads, almost exclusively. I felt a real need to reach San Cristobel, my last stop before hightailing it straight across Guatemala, I hope to get that over with in a day! So all I've done today is to hack down their version of a motorway, some is hardly up to the standard of our average farm track; and I kid you not. It isn't so much the Quality of the road you pay for, simply to avoid the multitude of towns on routes; particularly in well populated areas. Handy though, it takes so long each time you hit a town, with ten million sleeping policemen to contend with, it takes an eternity.

In many ways the driving on the toll roads is a bit better, if there is only one lane and the shoulder, the average driver will move over and allow you to pass. This changes when there is a bit of a queue behind a large vehicle, then it's every man for himself. The driving is as bad as that in Turkey, people will pull out from the other direction and expect a motorcycle to move out their way. As in Turkey, the only bikes most people get to see here are Chinese 125cc heaps of crap. There are a few small Honda's and Yamaha's, for the affluent; actually these are more normal to be delivery bikes for business'.

There is enough to contend with here, without the tank slapper I got thrown into yesterday! On a lovely smooth stretch of highway, which lasted for miles, I was cruising along at over 80mph, enjoying the view. A groove appeared suddenly, over an inch wide, and only as deep. It wouldn't really have been a problem, but then it suddenly veered off to one side; taking my nice grippy front tyre with it. The result a high speed wobble; they are virtually uncontrollable! Your front wheel and handlebars flip from side to side, often bringing you off immediately; if you fight it, you'll be off without doubt, braking will have the same result! You can only really relax and ride it out, unless you carefully try easing off or rolling on the throttle. I´ve heard so much different advice, all different! I've experienced this a few times, on different bikes, each one behaved different; none managed to get me off though. Gently easing off only seemed to worsen this one, so I tried the other way round! Accelerating up to 90mph with a wobble is frightening to say the least, but it was only 5mph or so difference. It's a situation which allows an unbelievably clear mind, everything slows down, thoughts are precise and complete calmness reigns supreme. And ain't I glad about that! Only after does the shock really hit you, then you can stop and have a cigarette; and change you're underwear if you need to.

Yesterday I realised my attempts to ride at a faster pace were out of frustration, not for the thrill. Such realisations are good, that type of riding is treacherous; it takes your mind off the ride, you focus on the idiots who frustrate you instead. It was such a change from the day before, then I was so in touch with everything around me, including my head and heart. Then I admired everything around me, noticed all the little subtleties. I could smell the tropical greenery, how lush it smelt; even the tang of oranges as I passed the orange groves. I noticed how extensive the groves were, how they stood; regimented, rank after rank, marching up the hillside. Oh, how the Grand Old Duke would have been proud of them!

So things change, from day to day. And we must be aware of how they are, stay in touch with the here and now. Self awareness is our chance to change ourselves, to be how we'd prefer to be; or allow you the chance not to be someone you are ashamed of. I owe it to myself to be a better person! In who's eyes? Why my own of course, but I also have a brilliant example in my son. If I can become more like he was, I can feel proud of myself; or should that be more proud of myself? Despite being a cynical old git, I do feel you can change and improve the person you are, no matter how old, or set in your ways you have become.

High Plains Drifter

Phew, I've missed my virtual lifeline! What a week, from droll and grumpy to the heights of pleasure. From Durango I've wiggled a wobbley line eastwards, ending up at the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. I rode straight to Frisnillo, southwest of Durango, and then the route gets complicated. For two and a half days I rode only on small secondary roads, zig-zagging across the Sierra Madres Occidental. I first went to Hidalgo, just below Frisnillo and ran out of road; a series of enormously deep sink holes and ruts, not forgetting a couple of small jumps, took me to Torbio, which isn´t on my map. By way of compass, I found my way back onto the map at Sangietillo, proceeded to Banon and made it to Villa de Cos for the night. The following day I carried in a general eastern direction passing through Santa Domingo, Arista and stopping near Cerritos. Finally I came out the high plains at Rio Verde, headed to CD Calles and followed more noted routes to Tampico and down the coast, heading south.

I´ve not got as far as I wanted, but it´s nothing new for me to be dissatisfied with my performance! So far a total of 1,400 miles have been covered, on small windy roads, which is pretty good going really. OK, it´s not the most direct, or quickest route; but hey, it is me we're talking about! Whatever the miles, or the speed at which they've been done, the ride has been beautiful. Me and Mike went out seperate ways at Frisnillo, he went to ride the majoy highways; I wanted to see some of the real Mexico, and by golly didn´t I just. And what an amazing difference there has been, although the people have all been so friendly and all beautiful in their own way, the countryside has gone through so many changes it´s impossible to describe it all.

The Sierra Madre was flat plains as for as my aging eyes could see, or squint with the glaring sun. I can see why the Mexicans have become so invaluable to the farming communities of America, they sure know how to grow things. Doesn´t matter what the environment, the crop or the growing medium, they seem to have it cracked. Hard working, they turn the most hostile wilderness into a productive land, growing what is best suited for their survival. There were vast areas of Maize under cultivation, these seemed nearest their villages, no point travelling too far to work eh? There was also a large number of Prickly Pear being grown, near the village it would be more tidily cultivated, further away is was larger and interspersed with trees. This land was scrub , which also served to graze goats or cattle. I wondered why they didn´t turn more of this into more cultivated land, then realised the trees were very important; what other source of fuel did they have?

All the villages were dusty, quiet places. There were few signs of wealth, just a lot of hard working, but happy, people. Most buildings were adobe or concrete block, some looked ancient. As I passed through everyone seemed amazed at my presence, this certainly was no tourist trail! Cai heard about the feeling of riding through such villages in Turkey last year, he was amazed. That was the sort of journey he was desperate to enjoy, to experience the real world, not the one spoilt by the flippant wealth of the western world. Being here and doing it was the best tonic I could have hoped for. Riding along the high plains, experiencing all this made me feel so close to Cai; it couldn't have gotten better! Or so I thought!

After Cerritos the land lost a bit of height, the variety of crops changed a bit, not too much though. There were a better vatiety of trees, more broadleaves, and as well as Prickly Pear Aloe Vera became more evident. The latter gradually became the dominent of the two, always grown in a more uniform manner as well; tidy rows, forming large areas, with nothing amongst them. Cows became more numerous too, the fast outnumbered the goats as the grass became more verdant. I was buzzing with all this, didn't give a damn about time, I was happy with Cai strongly in my heart and on my mind. Hey, it didn´t even make me cry; not one tear during the riding of those days. I felt so in touch, and so positive about being there and sharing it with him.

When the change came next it was drastic! Rio verde to Cuidad Valles was a true tropical paradise, in fact that type of environment has stayed with my virtually all the way since then; but the roads havn´t been as awe inspiring as this section. This wasn't as long as the road to Durango, the bends weren't as numerous, or consist of series of bends visible right through; allowing a gorgeous little hip wiggle and flip of the bike, knowing exactly what was coming up next. But I didn´t have company! And I realised why the Tropic of Cancer had upset me, not only that Cai wasn't at that point with me, he wasn't the one riding with me. I wouldn´t have had to hang back, riding slower than desired, Cai loved to ride the way I do on those sort of mountain roads, hard and pretty fast. And this time time I was off the leash, only Cai to keep me company, and we had a great time.

There really is something special about riding round a constantly windy road, it isn't a need for speed, it's purely the thrill of feeling in tune; with the bike, the road and everything else that's going on. It's a magic feeling, approaching a bend lined up just right, easing off the throttle, but keeping the revs up, the engine on the boil; not wanting to take it too far too soon! Building up the speed as you get closer to the exit, easing off if need be; not wanting to bring it all to an end, but when the end is in sight open it up, with all you´ve got. A climatic ending, joy and bliss, and then line up for the next one. Ahhh, it's just like sex! And if your's isn´t, it should be!

Phew, that tired me out just writing about it. I got so carried away with the riding I plain forgot about the views, not that I wasn't aware of them at the time; just forgot to stop, admire them closer, take some photos. I wouldn´t have dreamt of Mexico as a tropical paradise, but it rates amongst some of the nicest tropical countrysides I've seen. I entered the hills and meandered downward, amazed at how lush it instantly became. Rolling hills that put anything in the UK to shame, and truly green, green grass; but the whole vegetation changed! First palm trees were seen, then I noticed the Papaya, Casava, Bananas, Oranges and plenty I couldn´t identify. The grazing cattle only occupied pockets between the hills, but it was lovely to see the Mexican cowboys riding amongst them; strange how all those on horseback tend to notice me ride past, more often than not waving.

For two days now I´ve tried to pick up the pace, cover more miles. It's so hard, I want to spend longer here, but I´d prefer Christmas in Honduras. I can't have it all ways, so mile crunching it must be. Yesterday it starting lashing it down, just in time for me to stop for breakfast, and reduce the amount I got lost in Tampico. If there's one thing about rain, it's best to hunker down on the bike and ride through it. Such a shame the bike decided this would be the time to cause its first problem, it could have been worse; it cut out 500m from a gas station. Though it could have been better, it was up a very steep hill. At first I thought it had run out of fuel, due to syphoning tealeafs; luckily not, coz the garage had run out themselves. After ten minutes it started without any interference, shit, not the solution I wanted; so I took out the air filter, which made it run a bit cleaner. Simple, clean the filter, re-lube it and put it all back together again. And off I went, to cut out again in the next really heavy downpour! Down hill this time, nice and easy, coast along, and along, and along...For over a mile in fact, now and again I'd try bumping it; to no avail. Not until a stream of traffic appeared behind me, and pop, off it went; and we both rode off into the sunset. Some hope, though it was the intake, and now I believe it's sorted; only time will tell!

Someone told me this coast was very touristy, well I´ll be buggered! Vera Cruz is the only place that has any modern sign of multi-storied tourism. The rest is quiet and old fashioned, I guess there would be many more around in the height of season, but it has more of a low key approach to it. But shush, if you want modern comvenience DO NOT COME TO THE GULF OF MEXICO! The Pacific coast is where most people will feel more at home, but shoot, I´ve been paying $10-15 per night for hotels; why bother camping? The delight is, there are miles and miles of deserted beach with no accomadation anywhere in sight, in fact nowhere for miles. If only I could get my bike onto it easily, not that I´ve wasted time trying!

The knee! I´m damned glad there was an eager assistant to push the bike up the hill, it was steep and I don't know if I'd have made it alone. But it did hold out, and it is so much better. OK, so it still looks twice the size of the other, but it bends well enough to get on the bike normally. I no longer have to hop up to the bike with my leg held out sideways, almost straight. I haven´t been able to wear the knee support, it cuts off the circulation whilst riding, not very comfortable!

Mad in the mainland....

Back on the road at last, it was a fifteen hour ferry journey but the time passed fast enough, it´s amazing how a belly of beer can help you settle down and sleep on such a boring journey. There was doubt about getting a ticket, I didn´t worry; very few ships are too short on room to fit in a motorcycle. I only had to wait for six hours at the ferry port, a good lesson in patience! Why is it that whenever I leave my camera packed I see something great to photo. As we pulled out of port I missed a superb chance! An Osprey swooped down, grabbed a fish and shook itself free of water in midair, a bit like your friendly Labrador. It then flew within two metres of where I stood on deck! How lovely was that?

The ride from Mazatlan was tremendous, incredible gain in altitude, and phenomenal numbers of bends. OK, so the road is called the road of 1000 bends, that really is an understatement. I fail to believe there is only an average of three bends per kilometre, it was a wonderful ride. The bike is as good as ever, my enjoyment riding has not diminished in the slightest, not that I expected it to! I meet up with another rider, on a 1200cc BMW, shame his big heavy beast meant the ride was a touch slower than I would have liked. I felt sorry for Mike having to heave the beast around, I definitely feel I´ve got the perfect bike for me. I couldn't pick up anything heavier, and couldn't afford anything else new!

After Baja the mainland feels massively different, no hot desert so far for a start. High, lush hills with deep verdant valleys abound. The amount of domestic agriculture is considerably more than I ever witnessed riding through Baja. The only domestic planting I saw there was plantations of Cacti, I believe these were for consumption, they looked like prickly pear. But the people here are as friendly as ever, forever smiling, wishing us well. whenever parked up the passing drivers would be waving out their windows, big smiles and lovely attitudes. It made us feel like celebrities! I have to admit though, the city of Durango is a nightmare riding around at least compared to La Paz. It took ages to find a hotel, the first few were auto hotels. But with names like Viagra we thought they were not your run of the mill hotels, really did look more like knocking shops too. Oh well, it worked out fine eventually! We got a nice hotel, secure parking and twin beds; phew!

So far all the roads have been in good condition, well tarmaced and not overcrowded, except the city, of course. In fact we ended riding off road round some squalid part of the city, trying to find our way back onto the road we´d arrived on. I know I wasn´t going to ride off road yet, but felt obliged to follow the other guy, he had GPS and was leading the way. They do tend to make you lazy though, push a button and rely on that. It got us lost in Mazatlan, not badly though, and I also got us lost; or did I just find our way back to the dock? So in the end common sense prevailed and we followed the coast until finding the correct road sign. It was only a short spell trying to orientate ourselves, and it was all done in good humour. I felt glad to be riding again, it would have been difficult to feel otherwise.

I quickly found myself in a relaxed mood, content, relieved even; I was surprised not to be overly excited! The feeling pervaded almost straight away, which is why I didn´t mind getting lost in the city. Each time I stopped, I felt relieved, peaceful; the only time I felt really buzzing was reaching the Tropic of Cancer. This brought out a bubbling enthusiasm, a photo session at the sign ensued, a sense of achievement flooded through me. And when we pulled away, I was awash with grief! Cai should have been here to share this, that would have made it right. I don´t think there was any guilt at feeling full of excitement, it was purely how deeply I would have liked to share this with him. I cried for miles, couldn´t stop myself, didn´t want to! It feels the depth of grief will never go away, not that I want such deep feelings for Cai to diminish, in fact I don´t know what I want. It means so much to feel the depth of grief I have, isn't it purely a mark of the love I hold for Cai!

But my mood has taken a nose dive, I lost the power supply for my laptop, so this is using the last 20% of available power. I'm going to be lost without it, I've grown so used to it in my weeks on confinement. It's been a lifeline to everyone, and now I feel so distant, so isolated. I keep reminding myself that I'd planned the trip without a computer, that I'd intended to use Internet cafes. Another lesson in how much you take things for granted, only when you lose it do you really appreciate what you had. So take heed, cherish those things that bring you joy, don't take them for granted. And I course it's obvious, I don't really mean material possessions; it was the contact with all those who mean so much to me.

Natty dreadlocks.....a phase in the life of Cai!

Nothing is permanent, not life, not incarceration, and not my injury! I do feel as though I’ve been shut up here, against my will, forced to relax and take life slow. Maybe I needed to, I sure as hell didn’t want to, but bide my time I did; with grace and patience. But that is about to come to an end, I now have a reconstructed rack for my bike and the new parts from the states. Phew, about bloody time! Is it Murphy’s Law that dictates when you arrange an alternative to compensate for one screw up, they will both come good together? A bit like three buses turning up after there’s been none for hours! And so, I now have a new rack and an old repaired version. Can you guess which I’ll use?

And so my departure is imminent, my bike ready for completion and myself raring to go. I took the bike out yesterday, for my first ride since my accident. The trial ride went well enough, maybe the engine felt somewhat lumpy, maybe that was just me. More than likely it was getting used to the new gearing I’ve fitted. I’ve geared it up to give more efficient fuel economy, about 500rpm less at cruising speed, hopefully it will give 10% better economy. I ended up stripping many parts to ensure there were no further problems, I suspected bent forks or handlebars so took them off to check, they seemed fine! Still, when riding, something doesn’t line up straight, tough, it’ll have to do; it doesn’t seem to affect the handling.

There’s been concern about the fitness of my knee, is it ready for travel? Getting on and off the bike is a bit uncomfortable, it doesn’t bend quite how I’d like. Using due caution and it shouldn’t be a problem; as long as I don’t need to dismount quickly I’ll be fine. Applying the rear brake gave a twinge of pain, it was only for the initial few attempts; afterwards it seemed to ease off. I’m content this will rapidly improve, stiffness can be worked out every hour or so whilst riding. When lurching over a large lump in the road there was no pain at all, that’s a relief! Hey, I’ll not tackle any off road sections until fully fit, easy!

With me and the bike sorted, its full steam ahead; Honduras next stop. An estimated 3,000 miles before Christmas; it only sounds a lot. I rode about 800 miles, in little more than ten hours, from the Grand Canyon back to Ojai. I have about 18 days to get to Utila, off the Honduran coast; so in my uniquely blasé manner, no sweat! I’ll most likely bypass the flooded area of Tabasco, to save time and a mud bath. And I’m not going to spend any time in Guatemala, a swift ride through, only stopping at the border, to view the Mayan ruins at Copan.

Re-reading emails brought me to this poem, I don’t know who wrote it, it was sent by a friend when Cai died. It struck a chord, it sums up so succinctly how my mind and emotions have been through my ordeal. I realise physically I’ve ostracised myself from you all, but in my heart you’ve all been with me, through the written word. Don’t ever let anyone kid you otherwise, facing such loss is unbearably confusing. Please don’t forget though, life goes on! It may take a long time for those closest to Cai’s heart. Support and understanding shouldn’t be a flash in the pan, and I don’t state that on my own behalf! Consider how close to their hearts some keep their grief, not wanting to seem unable to cope, keeping a brave face, a facade!



Hold me close and go away
Please visit me and please don't stay
Talk to me but please don't speak
I need you now - come back next week.

Emotions muddled, needs unknown
To be with others, or on my own?
To scream out loud? To rant and shout?
Or hideaway and push you out?

I smile at you - "he's not that bad"
I shout at you "he's going mad"
I speak to you - "What do I say"
I show my tears - "quick walk away"

It’s not catching, the grief I feel
I can't pretend that it’s not real
I carry on as best I know
But this pain inside just won't go.

So, true friends, please accept the lot
I shout, I cry, I lose the plot
I don't know what I need today
So hold me close and go away.



I’d like to share photos of the natty dread kid with you this time, it was so nice to see Cai rise to the bait and grow dreads. A delight to see him put to shame those around him, who so desperately wanted to grow them naturally. I personally thought they’d be frowned upon by the idiots at American immigration, and bless him, he combed them out before we left home. How I wish I could still be disgusted by picking his mankey hair out the bath plug hole. And ain’t I ever glad I never bothered him about it! Such is life, and such are the memories we can smile at.