Back In The USA

Back In The USA

Whenever I return to the USA I have a ritual. First I take a long pull from the drinking fountain. It’s so delightful to be able to drink the water. Then I go to the bathroom and flush toilet paper. I don’t even need to use the toilet. I just walk to an empty stall, peel off an enormous length of paper, wad it up into a huge ball and flush it. Then I do it again. Suck on that third world sewer pipes with minimal pressure. Now I’m ready to step foot on the soil of my birth. USA! USA!

Ice In The Urinals

I love my decadence. You know you live in the first world when they put ice in your urinal. You’ll never see that down south. Can you imagine what a Guatemalan on a visiting work permit must think when he saves up enough money to eat at Applebee’s and uses the restroom? “These pinche gringos have so much ice they put it in the pisser! Damn, this place is crazy!”

I was Stateside for 1 month. I ate my favorite foods, caught up with friends and family, did some house work, and bought stuff to take back to Elsie. It was also as equally boring as that last sentence. I love my country, my family and my friends, and I spent time in 2 very nice places; California and Arizona. There was nothing wrong with any of it, but it just pales to my life on the road. It’s difficult to watch reruns on a black and white tv when you’ve seen the latest releases on a 4K big screen. How will I ever be able to go home? I suppose there are worse situations. Some people work in coal mines.

Here Are The Highlights:

My friend Matthew bought this ridiculous car

and we raced it on the silver strand late one night and did 125mph in the turns. Stupid crazy fun!

I had a fantastic Xmas with the family at my cousin’s house. Family just has a way of putting everything into a pleasing perspective of persistence.

My pal Mark Sessions has this incredibly fast sand rail, 2 great kids and some really nice friends.

We enjoyed some time at the dunes driving way too fast on a surface that is unpredictable and ever changing. I screamed into the headset microphone with elation.

You need to add this to your bucket list.

Above all else I was treated to a couple weeks with my mom and brother.  There are many things I need to be grateful for but if you’ve ever met either one of these first class humans, you know I lucked out.

First Vs Third

Maybe a first world experience is one of closing yourself off while a third world experience is one of opening yourself up. Example: we have lots of money and can afford aircon which means we can close our doors and windows. They don’t and they can’t so they have more of an open door policy. We have myriad delivery systems of entertainment. We can lock ourselves away and stare at our phones and laptops and Xboxes. They don’t, so they play in the streets. When you get rich you buy yourself away from other humans. You dump your roommate and live alone. You purchase a 2^nd house in the woods and you take up whittling. All humans value peace and quiet and some alone time. But the poor just can’t afford to do that. The third world is loud and crowded and boisterous and the first is quiet and sparse and sterile. I need both.

Any Minor Epiphanies Lately Bob?

Q: What does global sailing and cross continental driving have in common?

A: A life on the periphery.

My travels have granted me a scant observance of diverse societies while never really belonging to one. Who’s the deficient one now? Is it those who are too cowardly to leave their traditional lives or those who are unable to commit to a traditional life? I’m a voyeur. I’m just passing through. “No thank you, only looking.” What didn’t “click” in my development that I rebuke joining a society? That stings a little. Damn this incessant rain….

Your man on point,

3^rd World Bobby

Guatemala

From Belize to Guatemala

"At the station, at the border, an egression, to the exterior law and order" – Lovely Day/The Pixies

I crossed into Guatemala with my Dutch Friends DeJara & Sebastiaan from Haarlem (If you are ever in need of the letter “a” it’s because the Dutch have them all).

Boss & DeJara

After passing through what looks like a car wash, but is actually a fumigation station, I received a light misting of obnoxious poison, accomplished a few more tedious steps and was given 90 days. I thought that was just for Guatemala. I was wrong.

First Impressions

Almost immediately I saw a dead horse being eaten by a dog on the side of the road. There were lots of horse drawn buggies, very skinny dogs, and thatched roof shacks. It was another example of bad roads and poor people, nothing new here.

Flores

I prefer societies that are water based.

Flores is an island in the middle of a lake. They have to contend with tides and currents. They know that in the afternoons when the winds get strong it’s harder to cross the lake so they plan accordingly. People who are land locked miss that. Everyone has to deal with the wind but when you add water to that it increases the complications. I find that they tend to move at a slower pace and are more attuned to the wx and that makes for a more interesting setting and culture. Plus, everything looks better when it reflects nicely off the water.

Tikal

I arrived in Tikal around 5pm and camped for the night so that at 5:59 the next morning I could be the first person into the park.

I didn’t see another human for 1.5 hours. It was my own Indiana Jones movie and I was in my element. I didn't park my tired ass in the restaurant until 11:00.

That's 5 hours of hiking that sweltering jungle and I still didn't see it all. I slammed a Gallo beer, waited for the rain to abate, and then went back to Elsie for a nap and a shower. I spent another hour in the visitor’s center and drove the 1.5 hours back to Flores. It was a fantastic day. I’ve seen many pyramids and temples but Tikal wears the crown. It’s the best of all the Mayan ruins.

The Locals

There are 2 currencies in which I am filthy rich: Memories and Compliments. And although these Mayans are never going to be on the cover of Vogue magazine, there is no doubt that they know I think they are wonderful people. I hold them in high esteem and I tell them regularly, but when your frame is five feet nothing you don’t carry extra weight very well.

The mixed blood mestizos on the other hand… when the Spanish blood shines through, they can look sizzling hot. Jam 5 soccer balls in an evening dress and you’ll know what I’m talking about.

My Latest Speed Bump Disaster

Guatemala has the cruelest speed bumps I’ve ever seen. They are essentially mini-walls. It’s as if some man built a curb in the middle of the road. I was driving at about 35 mph and saw the bastard way too late.

You could see inside the camper

Unpainted without a sign and hiding in the dappled shade of an enormous tree. I slammed on the brakes and clobbered it. I was probably down to 20 mph at impact. I’m pretty sure I got 2 wheels off the ground. After my first inspection of the damage, I thought this trip might be over.

Clyde and Mia

I spent an hour jury rigging what I could so she was safe to drive the remaining 2 hours to Rio Dulce.

The boat that Clyde built

Once I got there my good friends Clyde and Mia took me into their home and Clyde soothed my negativity with what would become my new mantra: “Anything can be fixed”.

The boat the dock and the pool that Clyde built

2 Weeks of Repair in Rio Dulce

I parked at RAM marina. If you are an overlander and need a serious repair, head to a marina. There is every trade represented and the quality of work has to be top notch since they service ocean going vessels.

The crash had jarred Elsie so violently that I now had a substantial leak in the cabover section.

Cut it out and and dry it out

I paid more to be relocated under a roof and plugged in for air con. God do I love air con. I opened up the roof and kept cutting more and more out until I found dry wood. It took me 15 days to dry her out, rebuild the roof and have the welder finish his job but she doesn’t leak and the camper is stronger than ever.

Lots of wood rot

This counts as a contract

Adding structure

Closing it up

Reborn of steel

Antigua

Have you ever played with a baby elephant? I have, and it was an over the top fantastic experience. Now, was it a canned, fabricated, tourist experience? Absolutely! (Humans don’t get to play with baby elephants in the wild. The mother kills you or you have to kill the mother.) That didn’t make it any less incredible. The same goes for Antigua. It’s a canned, fabricated, tourist experience, but that doesn’t make it any less pleasurable.

Imperialistic house of prayer
Conquistadors who took their share - Dead souls / Joy Division

Those genuine authentic local experiences are very rare and rather improbable unless you have a good command of the local language and the time to allow them to unfold naturally. Even for a guy like me who lives in the country and doesn’t have a 2 week return ticket breathing down his neck, they are not commonplace. This trip is a smattering of both – 4 parts tourist fun, 1 part fleeting genuine brass ring experience, with a frosting of travel irritation. I call that a great ratio, and about the best you are ever gonna get. The world is just too over run to expect better.

Studying Spanish

You might recall that I took Spanish lessons in Sayulita, Mexico for a couple months. I dug out my school supplies and reenrolled. The weather in Antigua is perfect. The town is charming. I joined a gym, a language school, chose my 2 favorite bars and hunkered down to improve my Tarzan Spanish. 

If I speak slowly I make fewer mistakes. It's just like typing. If I speed type it looks like Klingon and when I rush a verbal sentence the Spanish speakers think I'm speaking Portuguese.

Why Scrabble is so hard in Spanish

You need more vowels to make a word in Spanish and the letter “y” doesn’t count as a vowel. I’ve decided that learning Spanish will be a lifelong endeavor for me. I was a straight “C” student in school and I’ve put considerable effort into reducing my brain cells since then.

My neighbors. Like Mennonites but cuter

Why is it so difficult? You need to think 3 words ahead before you even start speaking. Example: I want to say “the new table”. I start to speak and I begin with “El Nuevo”…. Then I remember table is feminine so I have to start again with “la nueva mesa”. Then I remember they put the noun before the adjective so I have to try a third time: “la mesa nueva”. I call that “The Spanish Scramble”.

I'm so extremely tall

When it comes to my ability to speak Spanish I probably make on average 2 conjugation errors in each sentence. The good news is that even though I might not know every word, I seem to know every other word.

Said another way; there is always a “work around”. The days of being confronted with the impenetrable wall of Spanish are over.  I’m on the other side. When you speak Tarzan Spanish and make 10 mistakes per sentence no one even thinks about correcting you. There are too many errors. It would halt communication.

Antigua

At that point they are only trying to perceive the message drowning in your lousy Spanish.

Antigua

Once you get to only 2 errors per sentence, something miraculous happens – people in a casual conversation will correct you. Then it becomes a game of finesse. At this point, I’m adding to my vocabulary and improving my conjugation. I’m gonna make it. But it wasn’t easy and I’ve spent lots of time and money fighting the good fight. I still prefer speaking Spanish with the elderly. They speak slowly and drop all the slang. The slang changes from country to country so every border I cross the learning curve begins a new, but not with the old geezers.

How other Overlanders do it

Leaving Elsie

As for me, I push forward in my exploration of the human condition in the third world. Admittedly, it is done thru the filter of Spanish and with the knowledge that I have the ability to pull the rip cord at any time and parachute out of this nightmare that these people are trapped in. Having said that, they are only dimly aware that they are living a nightmare. In fact, they are only living the nightmare of a spoiled first worlder, which they are not. So..... the circle chases its tail once more, and I realize that these happy people are only in a nightmare in my own mental constructs, when in reality they are as happy as anyone else on this big blue spinning marble. Ah, guilt free – I parked Elsie in a police station and flew back for Xmas in America’s Finest City: San Diego!

Captain BlackTop

Random Question Clearing House

That’s right! It’s that part of the show again where I answer all your questions in one group depository of overt bias. I like to refer to this segment as……

One of 100 ancient Spanish Churches

Random Question Clearing House!

This is mostly a compendium of questions, tidbits, morsels and musing that didn’t fit in the previous 12 months of dispatches. You read that correctly folks; I’ve been on the road for 1 year. I crossed the Mexican border on March 9 2015 and I’m currently in Honduras. So with no further delay – let’s dig in, shall we?

“So you drive to a hotel and get a room?” No – I might park in the parking lot of the hotel, but I sleep in the camper. All my stuff is in here. I built it out to be a place to live, not a place to get away from.

“What’s with you and small spaces? First a boat and now a camper, do you dream of jail cells?” - A big house is a jail cell. You spend your life cleaning and fixing it. Small is freedom. Also – I suppose I never really grew up and still enjoy “playing fort”. I brought every luxury I could with me but you should see what I left behind. I have a pretty sweet set up in S’Mish. However, this lifestyle is more to my liking. Though my house is small my back yard is infinite, and that to me is worth the slight inconvenience and almost zero discomfort.

“Don’t you think you are living a much healthier life now?” - When I’m in cities I’m slowly committing suicide with the exhaust emissions that these developing nations don’t regulate. And when I’m on beaches I’m slowly committing suicide with the deet I inhale and the sunblock I push into my pores. Aren’t I just a ray of sunshine?

“Why don’t you try driving on the toll roads. They are so much better.” - I have only driven on toll roads. That just adds insult to injury because this means I am paying the country of Mexico to damage my truck with their awful roads ($800 in damage so far and approximately $300 in tolls).

“Bobby, we have a bet going. Do you write your dispatches while completely loaded?” - Almost exclusively. I’m loaded now.

“How good is your Spanish?” - If all you had was 2 years of high school Spanish you’d think I was completely fluent, but the locals know better. They are far too generous and I should be kicked in the cajones once a month for what I do to their language: “Esto es lo que haces a mi idioma. Nos Vemos el proximo mes.”

I can't get enough of these Mayan ruins

“What do you spend on gas?” – Actually I burn diesel. $65 per week in diesel will buy me about 200 miles. I’ve decided that if I’m driving more than 200 miles per week than I’m going too fast and missing stuff.

“Do you have a political agenda?” - I don’t give a damn about the Liberals or the Republicans. I only care about the Libertarian party and why Tom Waits has yet to be declared a national treasure.”

“How long do you think you’ll be on the road?” – I’m thinking about another 3 years. There is still so much to see and there is never really a time limit on self-discovery.

Sometimes life puts long nosed rats in your path

Random Musings That Refused To Be Used In Prior Dispatches

Travel is wonderful for so many reasons. The people you meet are obviously a large part of it. Not only the locals, but the weirdo ex-pats who are sure that the illuminati are controlling the world with fluoride. I’ve listened to some of the most wacked out theories I’ve ever heard and I love it.

You never have to worry about getting in trouble for public urination in Latin America. They all do it and find it totally acceptable. The world is their toilet. You can stop anywhere and pee.

You never need to fear picante sauce south of Mexico, with one exception: Marie Sharp in Belize (she should run for public office, it’s the best known name in the whole country. Carrots in salsa picante – genius!). Other than that, after the mace you will put on your food in Mexico, it’s all tame & lame.

No one knows medicines better than a Pharmacist. Do we always need a doctor to insert themselves? That's 30 Pesos which is $2US

In Mexico you treat the street musicians like Charlie Sheen treats prostitutes. You don’t pay them for their services; you pay them to go away.

Self realization #694: I just want to dance like a white man. Cumbias, salsas, tangos and the others are sexy as hell but I want to snap my fingers and do the Courtney Cox from Dancing in the Dark. Go ahead. Point and laugh at me. I’m fine with that.

So Good It Needs To Be Reprinted:

From Colin Reedy:

TOP 10 HOBBIES IN CENTRAL AMERICA

1) Littering 24/7.

2) Burning things in piles...extra points for plastic.

3) Looking suspicious.

4) Jesus decals.

5) Overloading vehicles, animals, and themselves.

6) Clashing colors and patterns.

7) Pushing and cutting in line.

8) Hacking loudly then spitting in public...especially Mayan women.

9) Driving fast, honking often, and passing on corners.

10) Eating three types of starch in one meal; preferably fried.

One Year And Closing

“I can imagine how thrilling that first day crossing the border was” - The truth is, every time I put the truck in drive, it’s electrifying because, where I’m going; I’ve never been. Every mile is another chance for exploration, discovery, and reinvention. Every border I cross I’m confronted with a brand new culture that greets me with silver in its smile. Every time the odometer rolls over another 1000 miles I grin knowing that I’m making this up as I go along. Freedom. Total unabated freedom. Is there anything sweeter?

Lets Do the Numbers:

I’ve experienced 8 countries, driven 10,000 miles, sailed 1800 miles more, and witnessed countless new sights with new friends. But at the end of it all, the only question that I ask myself; “am I getting closer to that guy I always wanted to be?” Yes, I can see him and I’m shortening the gap. Constant bearing, decreasing range.

Your man on point,

Captain Bobby

Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico

Sailing for The Dominican Republic

Before we left, we bought machetes and I plotted a course that would keep us 20 nautical miles off the Haitian coast. We’d heard from other sailors about the pirate issues. All it takes is a fast boat with 3 ambitious Haitians pulling their money for enough fuel to take a run at us. It was a small worry but we planned accordingly. We never saw a boat and it was the most sedate Windward Passage ever made. Pleasurable miles made even better with perfect sunsets, and Cuban rum.

Traveling Companion Recap

Joe is a German by passport only, who actually bested me on my use of an English word, and rightfully so (completely embarrassing to be schooled by a non-native speaker). He is a very generous guy whose heart is in the right place and smart as a whip.

Joe

Chris is a true South African gentleman with a tremendous laugh that matches his physical stature. Think: very large jovial mammal.

Chris

Every time I found myself standing between the two of them I felt like I was at the bottom of a well. I had to go back to Central America to feel tall again.

Passage Making

Chris is the owner and captain, but he made me the navigator, and by default; the Spanish translator. As we progressed hundreds of miles to the east, the time zones changed and the watch on my wrist became as arbitrary as my waypoint selections. It took us a couple days to get from Cuba to The Dominican Republic. These were easy miles at sea.

There was about a 3 hour period in which we had 9 knots of wind on the beam and we were making 6 knots of speed. That Skabenga…. She can sail!

From my journal, “We were due to make land fall in the DR at 03:30. Instead we decided to cut the engines and ghost along under a scant jibsail doing 3.5 kts of speed in 8 kts of wind. Damn the main sail. What a performer.”

Luperon

Our strategy slowed us enough to make landfall at first light as we entered the skinny water of Luperon. We parked the yacht a few times on the muddy bottom but it’s really not an issue in a catamaran.

I’m glad I wasn’t in Barraveigh. Our first impression: “This is going to be a great party. Look at all these boats!” Turns out they were almost all empty. “Luperon – where dreams & boats go to die”. I’ve seen it before in many other well protected anchorages; people leave their boats for a long spell that morphs into eternity. We encountered tales of divorce, and misplaced moxie.

Luperon was a dirty hot hell hole with zero allure. I tried to come up with something nice to say, sorry Mom. Joe and I got loaded one night and the taxi that tried to take us back to the boat got lost. We finally fired him and flagged down some kid on a motorcycle. I immediately gave myself a second degree burn on the exhaust pipe and yelled in Joe’s ear the whole way back to the boat.

This woman was sure I couldn’t lift her. 

When I say I pick up chicks it means I lift them off the ground

Further East – The Mona Passage

We motored due east from Luperon to Arecibo Puerto Rico. Like the Haitian pirates, we’d been warned about the notorious Mona Passage and its ability to beat the hell out of east bound ships. Like the Haitian pirates, the threatening conditions were nonexistent. We just got lucky.

Puerto Rico

The Spanish fort at the entrance of San Juan

We made landfall at Arecibo at about 1:30 in the morning, and hid behind a very small jetty while standing anchor watches until first light. Puerto Rico is American soil – good for me, not so good for Chris and Joe. Joe holds a green card but Chris had issues with his US visa when entering with a boat. Those two took a taxi to a faraway airport and got it sorted out. I relaxed in the aircon of Skabenga and caught up on sleep and Game of Thrones.

We left the next morning for the easy motor to San Juan. Once we reached the marina, I became a land based mammal again. This is where the trip would end for me. Airfare and logistics were much cheaper and easier from Puerto Rico than from St. Maarten.

There is a Sizzler at the marina in San Juan, and we gorged ourselves repeatedly. God I love America. Endless all you can eat buffets, and it's even better in a territory. We couldn't finish our 3rd bucket of beers so they packed them up to go. That would never happen on the continent. Here’s the negative – It’s America. It’s not exotic. It’s expensive. I used San Juan as a transit spot 20 years ago. It’ll probably be 20 years before I return.

I'm such a salesman

This pretty lady came to visit

Driving or sailing, I earn my miles. 

Flying feels like cheating. 

I’m writing this from a beach in El Salvador and I don’t know when I’ll be on an ocean going sailboat again. As I become nostalgic for my brethren of the sea and our adventures together, I harken back to a more innocent year and I remember the class of 2007 with whom I crossed the Pacific; worthy humans all. Suzi, that beautiful woman who braved it in true English style with the stiffest of upper lips, has announced she'll marry and is with child. I beam thinking of her joy. To the class of 2007: Afriki, Antares, Barefeet, Barraveigh (it wouldn’t sound right on the SSB without including myself in the role call), Blue Moon, Cacafuego, Cardea, Catrina, Creola, Dreamkeeper, Emelia, Helen Kate, Jade, Northern Winds, Priscilla, Serai, Silene, and certainly not least, Sora - I stand in awe of all those who've shared my path.  

What a sweet life of which I’ve been fortunate enough to find myself at the helm. I thank you, the entire cast, especially Chris and Joe for inviting me along, and for playing a role in my drama.

Your man on point,

Bobby