And that's all folks...

As the blog finishes where it started in Brazil, the trip has finished where it started in Edinburgh.  All good things come to end. 

Well, that's 50% true anyway.  One of us is actually lounging about Fijian beach resorts before spending another two months swanning about Australia.  It's a hard life for some hey!

PDG

In Taganga, Colombia, we'd splashed out on food a couple of times.  Well, compared to our normal meal budget anyway.  Two pounds a dish is hardly breaking the bank for really delicious tapas; amazing cerviche, succulent prawns and melt-in-your mouth calamari no less than you'd expect in a fishing village I suppose, with a couple of happy hour cocktails in keeping with the spirit of a Caribbean holiday destination.  Two nights later we headed up the hill to the big backpackers, the most unlikely place to find a gourmet feed but chef Patrick served us up fantastic plates of food; a seabass with capers and white wine sauce, and a pepper steak at little more than a fiver each.  Both nights of 'extravagance' were well worth every penny and as we hadn't had such good food for a while, it prompted the discussion about which had been our best meal so far.  Naturally we both immediately thought back to PDG, but quickly added fond memories with much more humble origins to compete for our favourite: a feast of fresh calamari and fish washed down with a caipirinha in Gamboa cost us almost nothing; a tasty bbq chicken washed down with a couple of litres of coke at a roadside stall in Rurrenabaque, even less.  It was relieving to realise that PDG hadn't turned us into complete snobs!

But if talking individual meal, which one at PDG would we choose anyway?

Breakfast: the 8 course tasting menu?

Lunch: one of the special grills, meat or seafood?

Or dinner: private table for two on the island, or sharing with a handful of others on the candle-lit beach?

Yep, a pretty difficult choice!  Truth be told, if push came to shove, we'd both probably opt for the bowls of prawn and calamari down by the lagoon that we ordered as an appetiser, but pretty much ruined our lunch.  They were huge, and just the most moreish thing you can imagine.  Sorry, no pictures, but here's one of the view we had whilst devouring them...

Oh, and in case you are wondering, PDG is a swish resort in Brazil where we more or less started our whole trip.  Here's a few more non food-related views to paint you a picture...

Yep, more than a couple of times in the last few months we'd wished we were back there!  But you know what, we're just as happy munching empanadas on a street corner or sleeping on the beach in hammocks, and wouldn't swap the associated memories for the world.  We're just very very lucky to have had the opportunity to do both, and we sure as hell know it.

10 days, 1 Dodge Avenger, 7 national parks, 1 neon city, 2000 miles and a Lidl tent...ROAD TRIP!

First hurdle, I didn't bring my driver's licence.  This wasn't in the plan remember.  So having never driven on the wrong side before, in a car way bigger than she's used to (and bigger than we expected of course, American's love an upgrade), Angela pulled nervously out of the rental shop.  At least it only had 2 pedals (American's do not love gears).  Cue much amusement every time she tried to find the gearstick in the side-glove pocket!  To be fair, she quickly got used to it and soon we were turning through red lights and undertaking people on the freeway.

We witnessed first hand exacly why undertaking is banned in the UK, as two speeding cars came within inches of each other as they tried to move into the same lane infront of us.  There are billboards every mile telling you that a good lawyer will fight your speeding ticket or drink-driving charge, so don't worry about that one.  And indicators, who needs them right?  In a stroke of genius, US cars have the rear ones the same colour as brake and rear-lights.  There are two orange lights at the front which you can see clearly.  But they are side-lights.  We've been on so many more dangerous roads on our travels, true, but because people ignore what rules there are.  The irony is not lost on us, that whilst they are busy bombing the Middle East to make their country 'safer', they have stupid rules that make this place so dangerous!  We didn't take any optional extras, so our glovebox was empty.

We were heading from San Diego to Vegas but with a couple of days to spare we eyed the map, joined up the dots, and spent our first night in the tent at Joshua Tree National Park.  The Colorado and Mojave Deserts join here and provide two different habitats, with the Mojave home to the spikey Joshua Trees the park is named after (apparently it isn't named after U2 at all!)  Either way, they are both desserts, so stinking hot in the summer and we didn't really need our trusty tent at all (and definitely not our $15 sleeping bags) as nightime only offers lows in the high 70s.  We just used the inner tent which meant we were essentially sleeping under the stars.  It is quite amazing to lie there in bed with a sparkling ceiling above.  It's the sort of place you don't really want to close your eyes, but a day's driving and an evening hike sorted us out.  Well until about 6am and first light.  Then something really strange happened.  We voluntarily jumped up, packed the car and hit the hills!  I think it was possibly more driven by fear of the midday sun (and easily 100 degrees upwards) than anything, but it set the theme for our trip...early morning hike, daytime drive in our lovely air-conditioned car and a sunset stroll at our next amazing destination.

It was Saturday night when we camped in Joshua Tree, and we'd been braced for a crowded park or possibly full campsites as Labour Day approached to signal the end of summer.  We were amazed to find ourselves hiking trails and enjoying incredible views with barely a soul around us.  It was a wonderful way to start our adventure, even if it lacked some of the more jaw-dropping sights other parks promised.  It was a short-lived isolation of course, as we hit the road towards the shining lights of Las Vegas.

I don't have too much to say about Vegas to be honest, everyone knows the score.  It was fun to go and see it, but lets be honest, neither of us are at risk of losing our homes to a gambling habit.  And this trip was more about the great outdoors.  We enjoyed our couple of days wandering along The Strip, in and out of the mega-hotels and casinos.  Some are amazing and stylish.  Some are grotesque.  All are enormous.  It is amusing to find huge shopping malls that most cities would be proud of, just inside a hotel!  We mostly pondered what it would be like to be an interior designer in these places.  Crazy.
  
So let's move on, we've got 6 more parks to cover remember!  To be fair, the next week can fairly easily be summarised, you already know the drill...enjoy the sunset, sleep under the stars, early morning hike, drive during the heat and start all over again at the next incredible   place.  And these places are incredible, they really are.  We barely scratched the surface and would have loved more time at each to go explore some more.  In order, we hit Zion Canyon, Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, (back to Zion for a night), Sequoia, King's Canyon and finally Yosemite National Park.  All offer such different delights, from the scary but accessible peaks of Zion (I am very proud of Angela for scrambling up to Angel's Landing.  I am not at all ashamed to say I am far too scared of heights to even contemplate it!), to the incredible scale of the Grand Canyon, otherworldly hoodoos of Bryce, and finally the greener meadows, giant trees and domed granite peaks back in California.

The only real break from the routine was the hike down into the Grand Canyon.  It was so incredible to descend further and further into the multicoloured layers that we went a little further than planned and the hike out really tested the legs and lungs!  Fortunately we enjoyed a bit of cloud cover so didn't completely fry (the biggest strategic mission of the day was rationing our water back to the filling station) and whilst the altitude is not inconsiderable at the rim (over 8000 feet) I think we have benefited from our time in the Andes and didn't suffer as much as most.  We both really enjoyed a bit of challenge after missing out a lot of the hiking we'd planned in South America.

The only other excursion from our daily routine was the mission from Utah back to California, via Arizona and Nevada.  Poor Angela having to do the whole stint of course, but did a great job, driving almost all day from Zion to Sequoia.  The drive up into and through the park quite a test at the end of a long day on narrow roads, steep gradients and winding bends.  We'd also arrived on Labour Day weekend, so the place was mobbed and the campsites full.  Luck was with us as we hadn't really planned a contingency, being informed you can free-camp in the National Forest that borders the park.  So after a little bit of an adventure in the dark we found the perfect spot and Angela tasted her first night of wild camping.  She's converted.  It was so quiet and peaceful.  And free!  I should add at this point, that this wasn't the only thing she converted to on this road trip...after sceptically agreeing to the first, she was practically begging me to stop for our next MacDonald's breakfast!  No road trip is complete without one.  And the added fun early morning in US towns in the middle of nowhere, is listening to the group of elder gents gathered at the next table, mulling over anything from College football to shooting racoons.  Alas I'm not quite sure where we stand now though, as she got food poisoning at the second one...

And that was that.  The time flew by and before you know it we were heading over the Bay Bridge to drop the car off in San Francisco.  Both of us were pretty happy to ditch the car, Angela did an amazing job but it wasn't entirely stress free!  But we wouldn't swap it.  It was such a good trip and just what we needed after Central America stalled a little.  I was personally moved by the great American outdoors, and I'd love to come back and spend an awful lot more time here.  Maybe Autumn would be a good time though, when it cools a little.  Then I suppose if pushed I could stay a little into winter.  I've heard the snow isn't too bad in Utah.

The Grand Detour

So, after nearly 4 amazing months in South and Central America we've hit the States.  It is a bit of a change of plan but we're off on a road trip to Las Vegas, and up to San Francisco via a few national parks:  Joshua Tree, Grand Canyon, Yosemite and hopefully a couple more.  Should be good.  Will keep you posted!

The ancient Mayan gift shop of Chichen Itza.

 

 

  

The ancient Mayan golf resort of Tulum.

The ancient Mayan city of Tikal

 

Burnout

In Asia you find yourself with an overwhelming urge to scream at the top of your lungs, "if I see one more temple...!"

In Europe it's church or cathedral.

It comes after a couple of months or so.  They were splendid sights at first.  The camera snapping away at the slightest glimpse of an orange cloaked monk.  After you hit the wall, they have become so ubiquitous you don't even divert your eyes.

So we've reached that point.  It happened in Granada, the gem of Nicaragua's tourist trail.  A beautiful colourful city, where we summoned just about enough enthusiasm to traipse to an internet cafe and have a hotdog in the square.

So we jumped on a bus to the beach.  A fairly deserted one in El Salvador, where we planned to do virtually nothing for a week or two but eat, sleep, swim, read, surf a little maybe.  Anything to silence the inner monologue that's screaming at the top of its voice, "if I see one more bloody colonial city...!"


As it happened, as nice as it was in surf central, it didn't completely do the trick.  Maybe because we had to sleep with one eye open...

So we had a few days of relaxation and then we hatched a new plan: to hit Mexico sooner, enjoy a few truly beautiful beaches, and then spend a bit more time in the States.  Well, who can resist a side-trip to Vegas baby?!

6 weeks to go and 8 countries to get through!

Who were we kidding, something had to give.  So after a wonderful five day relaxing trip through the Caribbean, it was time to crack the back of about 500 miles and a couple of countries.  From Panama City we traveled to Rivas in Nicaragua and then crossed Lago de Nicaragua to our final destination, the Ilas de Ometepe, for a wee rest.

I'll do the first part fast so you don't get bored.  

Day 1, Panama: went to see the canal and then off to the international bus station.  Maybe harsh ditching the rest of the country but 'little America' just didn't do it for us.  We almost didn't view the canal, but relented, it being one of the 'Man-made Wonders of the World.'  Or so Wikipedia tells me anyway. 

 

Day 2, Costa Rica:  the night bus went without a hitch, or even better for you a, bodily functions story.  Costa Rica was all seen by bus, beautiful beaches laced with palm trees whizzed past us under bright blue cloudless skies (if we had stopped it would have rained!)  Paul also introduced me to the rambutan, a funny little fruit with bright red tentacles.  They look completley weird but when fresh, squirted juice everywhere and tasted delicious.

 

So two border crossings in one day.  The first a mind numbing 3 hours wait, the second a delightful 10 minutes!  Then within a couple of hours we were on the island.  Magic.

Ometepe is created from two volcanoes linked by ancient lava flow, rising magnificently from the lake.  We picked a great time to stay.  At first the town of Moyogalpa seemed quiet, dusty and full of tourists waiting to go either further into the island or ferry out.  But each day around 4 o'clock a procession of dancing horses would parade down the high street and we'd have live music. Even before it got dark the fire crackers would go off and the streets would come alive.  Many a drunk local would be-friend us and list all the dangers lurking on the mainland, proudly extolling the virtues of this safe haven.  Maybe we should have stayed? But I'm not sure they have any need for graphic design or physio.  Maybe we could have started a dive school (now we're divers and all, but not sure there's much to see in the murky waters) or open a traditional themed Ye Olde World Inn and Tavern (but we'd probably be driven out by the Americans and Irish who've got the themed idea covered).  Or just carry on travelling.  We did the latter.  Given the hassles we've had on the mainland, maybe we should have stayed put afterall.

 

So what did we do on this gem of an island?  Well we cycled to Punta Jesus Maria, a narrow sand bar that juts out into the lake making a calm swimming area.  It being Nicaragua and a volcanic island, the sand was black, the water was black and the fishes took great advantage of this, giving us a good nip now and again.  The place still had a relaxed charm and it was good to have got some exercise and earned our dip.

We also hired a scooter!  Yes, we did look like loser gringos on our banana coloured mean machine, wearing helmets and abiding by speed limits as families of 5 road past us, all perched perfectly on one scooter.  And let's not forget the kid on a push bike that even got the edge on us at one point (he ate our dirt soon as we'd managed the speed bump safely!)  This may sound like an OAP's grand day out and possibly it looked like that, but on small stretches of desolate road, both of us singing 'Born to be Wild' at the top of our voices, I do believe we captured at least the spirit of Easy Rider.

 

Kuna Yala

To say most of our blogs write themselves is probably a little harsh on our efforts, but usually a place, journey or experience has developed into a short story relatively easily.  Or we've let the pictures do most of the talking.  After 5 days on a sailboat from Colombia to Panama we're struggling to work out how to keep the story short, and the pictures alone certainly won't do it justice.  I think it is a little unfair to judge the rest of Central America before it has had a chance to prove itself, but Angela has happily proclaimed this latest adventure as the highlight or our entire trip.  If she's right, I certainly won't be disappointed.  If not, we're in for one hell of a time somewhere in the next 6 weeks or so!

So where to start?  First, set the scene I guess:
The journey began in the colourful colonial city of Cartagena, with 200 miles of Caribbean high seas separating us from the San Blas islands off the coast of Panama.  Our home for the duration a 43 ft yacht.  Our berth one of four cabins (the room pretty much the size of the bed, but pretty much the size of a double at least; with its full load of 11, the people sharing one of the two small cabins would get to know each other pretty well as the beds/rooms are barely bigger than singles!)

Second, introduce the cast:
As mentioned, a full boat would be 11 passengers, so we were lucky to be 6 and everyone had a bed.  We surely need no introduction.  The other 4 were all in their early twenties: Bernard and Darlene two Canadian honeymooners, Donal a quietly spoken Irishman and Clarence a German with impeccable english.  An then of course the leading man, Francisco.  Born in Brazil to a French mother, learned to sail at 13 and spent his life on the sea ever after. From sailboat to fishing trawler to freighter, decades of salt from around the globe well-rubbed into the old seadog.  And like all good characters, a man of layers.  At first a little strict, at the end (after we'd warmed him up) pretty saucy.  More than a little self-confident (be it sailing or cooking, the French mother, remember?)  Often opinionated.  And at all times a storyteller.

So, finally, to tell the story.  Forgive me in advance, accomplished author I am not.  But I shall try...

We set sail on Saturday evening (thereafter most struggled to recall what day it was; no-one cared).  With a probable 48 hour crossing ahead, it seemed like we were just wasting valuable time to spend in the islands, but we had patiently waited out the day as Francisco had explained his preference for a late start: once you get sick, you can sleep it off.  As it was, only Bernard succumbed, although he claimed to rather enjoy his experience bent over the back of the boat; location is everything I guess!  And our departure time meant we enjoyed a spectacular start to our journey as a dramatic sunset coloured our path out of the harbour.  Then we hit night, dark skies and dark seas all that surrounded us.  Eerie isolation.

After a hot, swaying,broken sleep it was a great surprise to find we had escaped the head-on current and were making great time.  We'd probably make the islands by the next night, nearly a whole extra day to spend there than expected.  Excitement tempered by the increasing swell however, all subdued and a little queasy.  Francisco laughed it off, the season calm to him.  Big enough for us rookies.  Bernard took his position at the back of the boat for most of the day. 

It's a long day on the open seas when you're not feeling A1.  Francisco also subdued, trying to catch up on sleep; his alarm set every 15 mins during the night to keep an eye out for ships that would eat up a teeny sailboat in the dark.  Also a little stressed no doubt.  70% of man-overboards lost to the sea.  Not too many stories to amuse us that day then, although I do recall one.  Many captains require their passengers to keep watch through the night.  A few years ago, a captain was startled awake by the sound of his fishing reel unwinding.  He jumped up to fight the line; there are huge monsters lurking in the dark, tuna 100kg or more.  Then it struck him: where was his nightwatch?  She survived.  Her face wasn't quite what it was though.  

Francisco starts out strict, yes.  In context though, all makes sense.  There is more than one reason he doesn't fish at night; he landed an 80kg tuna once.  It filled the saloon of an already packed boat and he'd no idea what to with all the steaks!  The carcasses of boats strewn around the reefs also atest to why he sacrifies his sleep.

We followed orders to the letter and arrived in the San Blas safely about 2am, Angela first to hear the engine change and up to guide us through the sandbanks, torch in hand.  All arose as the anchor dropped and beer cans were cracked (alcohol forbidden on the passage, loss of balance likely fatal).                  

Soon we all went back to bed for a couple of restless sweaty hours below deck but before long the smell of breakfast lured us out.  And my what a place to wake up to.  Sea a mix of blue and green and turquoise.  Palm covered islands.  White sands.  Gentle surf breaking on the reefs protecting us from the open sea.  Every bit the paradise we'd expected.

 

The next 3 days are a bit of a blur, all mingling into one.  We raised anchor.  We sailed.  We dropped anchor.  We snorkelled with majestic spotted eagle rays and nurse sharks.   We watched a couple of turtles popping up for air during lunch.  Early one evening a dolphin cruised right by.  By night the rays serenely glided around in the light from the boat.

We strolled along sandy shores admiring the galleries of starfish in the clear waters.  We tucked into fish and rum around a fire on the beach.  We gazed at stars.  We dived from the roof.  Lightening flashed.  Thunder clapped.  We watched it rain.  We visited the indigenous Kuna.  They visited us (with fish or crabs or octopus or handicrafts).  We ate.  And we ate some more.

On the way to the islands we had hooked a fish.  It looked like a magnificent fish.  Francisco said it was the best.  A Wahoo.  What a name.  Perfect for our beach bbq.  Unfortunately due to human error it was lost in the landing (i.e. someone dropped it!)  Francisco was not a happy man for a short while.  A fisherman pained to lose a fish.  The culprit was soon forgiven though and it just meant we had to pop onto one of the islands to shop for one (i.e. barter with a man in a dugout canoe).  So we bbq'd a snapper instead.  Perhaps due to a little karma, a squid just jumped onto the boat that night so we enjoyed it as a pre-dinner dip.  Dinner itself a delicious octopus stew.  The highlight for some was our seafood platter: a couple of crab and lobster to hammer at.  For me, it was our dinner on the last night: plain old fish and chips.  Shark steak in a beer and thyme batter with bread-fruit chips that is.  A little more exotic than our usual on Porty beach!  So all in all, we ate pretty well.  Francisco doesn't need our admiration of his culinary skills, but he gets it anyway.

And as for our wonderful captain, I said by the end he had become more than a little fruity.  So to end this story, here are some of our favourite Francisco quotes (for full effect when reading, add a french accent)...

Whilst explaining why our boat was anchored in a current:
"Notice we point a different way to the other boats?  The wind comes from this way, so I use the current to balance it and lessen the strain on the anchor.  Oh my god, when I hear myself talk like this, it is so good.  I give myself an erection."
I bit my tongue the next morning when the wind had changed and we were facing the same way as everyone else, the current now increasing the stain on our anchor!

When serving up octopus stew:
"Do you need anything else?  You want ketchup?  I bring you ketchup.  F*#! you I will not bring you ketchup!"

Previously, whilst preparing octopus stew:
"I call it octopussy, as it has one between each of the legs.  And one in the middle!"

Later, correcting Clarence taking about the stew:
"On my boat it is always called octopussy."

Later still, said from afar in a matter of fact way, half way through Donal's sentence as he again referred to it as octopus:
"Octopussy."

On colonialism:
"The spanish came.  Killed all the men.  Took all the gold.  Raped all the women.  Good job!"...(add uncomfortable pause)..."I don't mean the rape."

And finally, here's one from a passenger and possibly our favourite of all.  On the subject of french regency:
"I thought the Louis' started at about the 13th."
Might want to lay off the dope a little Bernard if you're going to make it through law school!