A great thing about travelling is when youre in a really low place (which inevitably happens on the road) there is always something small thats seems to shift your mood and make everything in the world right again; whether its a sunset, a candy bar being so fucking delicious, or some birds singing just for you.
This is about the occasions when you run across another traveller, share instant depthless tribal connection, and feel great for realizing youre not out there alone and shit aint so bad.
I was bike touring, in El Cuco El Salvador finishing up 3 or 4 days or soul rejuvenation on the beach. I was intent on making it to the Honduras border that day, which seemed feasible based in distant. I left at 5am so i could have a good portion of the cool morning to ride through.
I went into the day worried about Honduras as there were riots going/curfews/etc on and everyone white was skipping, but I didnt want to miss Isla de Tigre, so I said fuck it, send it, ya only live once.
Everything went wrong from the start.
What I thought was a good route on google maps turned out to be a dirt road marked w potholes and stones. 30 miles Up and down hills in the jungle, bouncing up and down w a sore ass, wrists and forearms from having to clench handlebars, and covering miles at a snailpace. Had to cross a wide shallow river that wasnt on the map which was a major inconvenience in my mood. Close to the border it flattened out and got hot as hell, I roasted for about 3 hrs til the border. Border crossings are always a pain and honduran immigration seemed especially mean to me which lowered my spirits more. I stopped for some food and the lady who served me was mean to me.
I had been on my bike for about 12 hrs by the time I got in Honduras and knew i probably had another 2 hrs of excruciatingly hot and painful riding before i could find a suitable camp spot. I felt like absolute shit.
But heres where it gets good.
Like a mirage i see another unshaven sun raped white dood on a shit bike, bags latched haphazardly, peddling like a corpse toward the border. Usually in that situation bike tourers will loop around and shoot the shit for 20 minutes.
But we just stared at each other, trying to figure out if we were real, and gave each other a limp wave, w broad smiles. It was perfect.
I knew all his pain and anguish from thay day, and he knew mine. That was the connection. And it was priceless.
Post log-that ended w more good.
I found a camp spot right as the sun was setting in a cow pasture. I had just set up my hammock and was lounging when the farmer who worked the land was coming back in w his cows. I explained to him what i was doing in broken spanish, apologized, and told him Id be gone in the morning. He said no problem.
Then!
About an hour later he came back w a jug of water and 6 tamales his wife had made. My heart about burst. He stayed about 20 minutes and chatted w me about family and life.
And then I slept hard
This is about the occasions when you run across another traveller, share instant depthless tribal connection, and feel great for realizing youre not out there alone and shit aint so bad.
I was bike touring, in El Cuco El Salvador finishing up 3 or 4 days or soul rejuvenation on the beach. I was intent on making it to the Honduras border that day, which seemed feasible based in distant. I left at 5am so i could have a good portion of the cool morning to ride through.
I went into the day worried about Honduras as there were riots going/curfews/etc on and everyone white was skipping, but I didnt want to miss Isla de Tigre, so I said fuck it, send it, ya only live once.
Everything went wrong from the start.
What I thought was a good route on google maps turned out to be a dirt road marked w potholes and stones. 30 miles Up and down hills in the jungle, bouncing up and down w a sore ass, wrists and forearms from having to clench handlebars, and covering miles at a snailpace. Had to cross a wide shallow river that wasnt on the map which was a major inconvenience in my mood. Close to the border it flattened out and got hot as hell, I roasted for about 3 hrs til the border. Border crossings are always a pain and honduran immigration seemed especially mean to me which lowered my spirits more. I stopped for some food and the lady who served me was mean to me.
I had been on my bike for about 12 hrs by the time I got in Honduras and knew i probably had another 2 hrs of excruciatingly hot and painful riding before i could find a suitable camp spot. I felt like absolute shit.
But heres where it gets good.
Like a mirage i see another unshaven sun raped white dood on a shit bike, bags latched haphazardly, peddling like a corpse toward the border. Usually in that situation bike tourers will loop around and shoot the shit for 20 minutes.
But we just stared at each other, trying to figure out if we were real, and gave each other a limp wave, w broad smiles. It was perfect.
I knew all his pain and anguish from thay day, and he knew mine. That was the connection. And it was priceless.
Post log-that ended w more good.
I found a camp spot right as the sun was setting in a cow pasture. I had just set up my hammock and was lounging when the farmer who worked the land was coming back in w his cows. I explained to him what i was doing in broken spanish, apologized, and told him Id be gone in the morning. He said no problem.
Then!
About an hour later he came back w a jug of water and 6 tamales his wife had made. My heart about burst. He stayed about 20 minutes and chatted w me about family and life.
And then I slept hard
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