I was terrified in the night. Simply terrified. I slept in my clothes, curled in a pathetic foetal position trying to wrap the mosquito blanket around me. I awoke several times to discover that the net had opened. I was convinced that numerous things were flying and crawling in the bed with me. The rest of the gang had planned to get up early to kayak in the sunrise. in spite having very little sleep, I still drag myself out of bed when Murray wakes me, keen to get away from whatever lurks between the sheets.
Blinking in the sunlight, we struggle to push the kayaks out onto the water. Mike and Ryan take the yellow longboat, while Oda, Murray and myself try what can only be called a bathtub. A square bathtub. I really do feel like Indiana Jameson as we paddle through the hanging vines and exotic trees. It’s a nice bite sized taste of what a real jungle would be like, but I’m not sure I would be able to hack trekking up the Amazon.
We set off for the border, only to find yet another debacle awaits. The bridge was down due to the mud slides and recent flooding. We find out that had we crossed yesterday, there is a very good chance we might have been on or near the bridge when it collapsed. That would have been interesting.
So we begin the 9 hour wait by the roadside, in a queue backed up both ways by people trying to cross. This as they try to create a bypass round the broken bridge. We kill the time with games, photographs, sleep and making super noodles for ourselves and others stranded on the dirt track. Murray manages to converse with a Pastor who persuades the border police to let us through first. We still need to import the vehicles and get Ryan to his flight at 1am in San Pedro Sula. This proves something of an issue and takes far longer than it should. We are the first to cross into Honduras just after dark, and we attempt to make a smooth transition through the checkpoint. Alas we should be used to this by now, and it proves increasingly difficult and time consuming to acquire papers and documents. It’s getting very late as the team finally manages to get into the country, however it has become apparent that Ryan is tied down to looking after the ambulance exchange over the next few days, and as a result cannot leave the country. He’s shows his disappointment with a massive grin on his face.
Another crazy night drive through new territories. We need to get Ryan to the airport to cancel his flight, which as ever takes longer then expected. Roads throughout all central America seem to appear from behind trees, or past junctions, expect you to know this is the turn, and from then on you’re on your own. Then there’s gunshots at a police checkpoint. Thankfully not at us! After a number of missed turns and nervous exchange with local police, we manage to see runways and aircraft.
Ryan acknowledges he is here to stay, for a few more days at least. We push on into the night, and with only myself, Murray and Ryan awake towards the end again, we manage to get within the general region of the youth hostel we are aiming for. The night draws in long, the frustrations creep in, and our destination continues to elude us. Eventually we are forced to admit defeat and bed down in the ambulance. No doubt tomorrow we will find we are parked right outside what we are looking for, and we’ve missed a raging party with twenty single Swedish girls.
Border nightmare
I was terrified in the night. Simply terrified. I slept in my clothes, curled in a pathetic foetal position trying to wrap the mosquito blanket around me. I awoke several times to discover that the net had opened. I was convinced that numerous things were flying and crawling in the bed with me. The rest of the gang had planned to get up early to kayak in the sunrise. in spite having very little sleep, I still drag myself out of bed when Murray wakes me, keen to get away from whatever lurks between the sheets.
Blinking in the sunlight, we struggle to push the kayaks out onto the water. Mike and Ryan take the yellow longboat, while Oda, Murray and myself try what can only be called a bathtub. A square bathtub. I really do feel like Indiana Jameson as we paddle through the hanging vines and exotic trees. It’s a nice bite sized taste of what a real jungle would be like, but I’m not sure I would be able to hack trekking up the Amazon.
So we begin the 9 hour wait by the roadside, in a queue backed up both ways by people trying to cross. This as they try to create a bypass round the broken bridge. We kill the time with games, photographs, sleep and making super noodles for ourselves and others stranded on the dirt track. Murray manages to converse with a Pastor who persuades the border police to let us through first. We still need to import the vehicles and get Ryan to his flight at 1am in San Pedro Sula. This proves something of an issue and takes far longer than it should. We are the first to cross into Honduras just after dark, and we attempt to make a smooth transition through the checkpoint. Alas we should be used to this by now, and it proves increasingly difficult and time consuming to acquire papers and documents. It’s getting very late as the team finally manages to get into the country, however it has become apparent that Ryan is tied down to looking after the ambulance exchange over the next few days, and as a result cannot leave the country. He’s shows his disappointment with a massive grin on his face.
Another crazy night drive through new territories. We need to get Ryan to the airport to cancel his flight, which as ever takes longer then expected. Roads throughout all central America seem to appear from behind trees, or past junctions, expect you to know this is the turn, and from then on you’re on your own. Then there’s gunshots at a police checkpoint. Thankfully not at us! After a number of missed turns and nervous exchange with local police, we manage to see runways and aircraft.
Ryan acknowledges he is here to stay, for a few more days at least. We push on into the night, and with only myself, Murray and Ryan awake towards the end again, we manage to get within the general region of the youth hostel we are aiming for. The night draws in long, the frustrations creep in, and our destination continues to elude us. Eventually we are forced to admit defeat and bed down in the ambulance. No doubt tomorrow we will find we are parked right outside what we are looking for, and we’ve missed a raging party with twenty single Swedish girls.