Somehow life on the road just keeps on getting better. In our last update we said that we were craving a little adventure. Well, since then we've certainly been having adventure! Panama began for us with endless discussions of entering the Darien or not. The Darien is a pretty impenetrable jungle steeped in legend, myth and ruled by Columbian guerillas in the border area. Guerilla activity varies almost on a week by week basis but they are always around. We never intended to cross the Darien all the way into Columbia with our bike, she's far too big and heavy for dragging over jungle trails and putting in dugout canoes but we could settle for trying to ride to the end of the road at Yaviza. As soon as we crossed into the Darien region there were military checkpoints every few miles. 18 in all. At each our details were taken, we were asked where we were going, for how long and, what we were doing and why the hell would we want to do it. At each; we in turn asked about current guerilla activity, no go areas and so on and so forth. We were expecting to be turned back long before we reached Meteti, the last point of relative civilization in the area, but while we were advised to be very careful we were never told to turn back. They made it clear that if they thought the risks were too high for us they would bring us out like a shot.

Meteti is 51 kilometers (30 miles) from Yaviza, only a stones throw on a paved road but there is no paved road here, just mud and more mud. We found a place to stay in Meteti and the next morning decided the road was just too bad for Liz to be able to ride on the back of the bike any further; so I set out on my own to get as far as I could. The potential was there that I would only get as far as the next checkpoint and be turned back but they let me through, surprisingly. The road continued for the first 10 kilometers in a pretty ridable condition. Some mud and water sections, plenty of potholes but nothing too difficult.


After the first 10 kilometers there was a dramatic change. The jungle closed in, the road narrowed and the mud became one long slog of slipping and sliding. Even without any weight on the bike it was almost uncontrollable, the front wheel would veer off in a muddy rut while the back end slid in a different direction. I was determined to make it to Yaviza though, just 51 kilometers in all. After riding (or sliding) the first 30 kilometers I was getting close but didn't feel confident. I was having to get off the bike more and more often to drag it out of the mud before riding a little further. At 35 kilometers it was impossible to ride the bike and I began to push the bike as far as I could using the engine to keep it going forward. With 9 lousy kilometers to go I gave up. I met a local man on a horse coming from Yaviza and he told me it just got worse. I was exhausted already and knew that for every kilometer I got further towards Yaviza, I would have to do all over again on the way back. I couldn't do it. I sat in the mud and drank some water while just taking in where I was. It had been a dream of mine most of my life to come to the Darien and here I was upto my neck in mud with a bike far too heavy for where I was and I was loving it. As I sat there a troop of howler monkeys berated me from above while a sloth looked on unconcerned from the trees across the road. Jungle literally steamed and teamed with life all around and I was the only person there (as far as I knew). Life doesn't get much better.

I reluctantly turned the bike round and repeated the exercise of pushing and pulling until I could start riding, slipping and sliding back to Meteti. I didn't make it to the end of the road but I got close. I'll settle for that. I reached the checkpoint again and had a laugh with the soldiers at the state of me before returning to Liz safe and sound. From there we explored some of the other outlying villages that we could ride to together and just enjoyed being in the Darien, chatting to locals and soldiers as we went. For a region that can be so dangerous closer to the Darien Gap the people are surprisingly friendly, even the military. There's no question the area has its dangers and only a fool would enter without asking about current safety every step of the way but certainly as far a Yaviza the risks are worth it. Beyond Yaviza you'd be on your own if the FARC caught up with you.

We returned to Panama City a few days later before riding on to Puertobello and putting ourselves and the bike on a sailing boat to Colombia. The Melody is a 43 foot (13 metres) sail boat and the bike took up most of the front deck. Getting the bike on board was a heart in mouth experience in itself. With the aid of 6 hired locals we lifted it into a 12 foot skiff and chugged out to the boat anchored off shore before hoisting the bike onto the Melody using the main mast as a winch.

It all went well though and within the hour we were sailing for Colombia via the San Blas Islands. 6 days on a 43 foot boat with the captain (Mark) and 5 other backpackers. It was cramped but not too cramped. The first few days were spent sailing from idyllic island to idyllic island, catching tuna, barracuda and snapper as we went. The islands here look like an advert in holiday brochures, small pieces of land with a few palm trees and golden sand surrounded by turquoise and green waters As soon as we anchored off an island we would be in the water cooling off and snorkeling on the reefs. It was a little hard to cool off in the 86 degree crystal clear waters though. Oh, the hardship!!

After 4 days we began the final push for Columbia across open seas and here thing got interesting. The swell was huge, rocking the boat in every direction and throwing us around like peas in a can. On the morning of the 5th day we found ourselves going from a heavy swell to sailing in hurricane force wings. Horizontal rain and 70 mph winds had us holding on with everything we had as Mark tried to keep the boat facing into the wind as waves crashed over us. The boat rolled from side to side at over 45 degrees or more and the skies were black. Luckily the squall didn't last long and before long we were back in a heavy swell counting our bruises. It tested Marks skills but he proved to be an extremely capable captain so we were never worried but certainly exhilarated.

We reached Cartagena, Colombia, a few days ago and are now holed up with the bike; hiding until we can complete the paperwork so she's here legally. In the meantime we explore the beautiful city. Of any city we've visited on our travels this is without a doubt the most beautiful. Its no hardship to be killing time here before we ride south again. Visiting Volcan de Lodo El Totumo and having a mud massage before having my shorts ripped off by a 50 year old woman and a rinse off has helped pass the time though. The volcano is the tallest mud volcano in South America and has to be one of the strangest things we've ever done. Floating in mud the consistency of melted chocolate while a man rubs you up and down is not something that happens every day. Liz seemed to enjoy the rub down more than I did though.

501 days on the road is a long time by anyones standards. Does it feel like we've been traveling for that long? In some ways yes, in others no. When we look at the bumps and bruises on the bike or the huge number of photos we've taken we know we've been on the road 501 days. At other times we wonder where the time has gone. Have we really been in Central America for 6 months and ridden over 36,000 miles. Its nearly a year since we were in Canada but it seems like yesterday. People often ask us if we think we've changed in those 501 days and most of the time we would say we are pretty much the same people we were before we set out on this epic adventure of ours (which is what it seems to be). That said, there are changes we notice in ourselves and each other. For one thing non of Chris' clothes fit anymore. As slim fit Chris can now take off his trousers without having to undo them first! I'm much fitter than before we started the trip. There was a time when I struggled to climb the stairs at home after being ill but now I find myself climbing volcanos in my stride (almost). We're both stronger too. At one time it would take both of us to lift the bike up with a full tank of petrol and we'd have to take the luggage off before we could do that. Now Chris can pick it up on his own with a full tank and leaving the luggage on. We think that's close to half a ton!

Our attitudes have changed from what they used to be. On one hand we're far more patient than we used to be if it takes far longer than expected to sort out something - paperwork at a border for example. On the other hand we're far less patient with people's petty little complaints. "There's nothing on TV" or "I want a new pair of trainers". Seeing 4 year old kids filling in potholes in the road with their bare hands and begging passing motorists for a little change in Nicaragua makes you realise what poor is. It also makes us realise how lucky we are. Our attitude to a good dose of intestinal worms has changed too but that's a different matter! We're also more resilient in the face of fear and physical challenges. In Central America alone Chris has been bitten by a snake, humped by a manatee and most recently stung by a scorpion. A little unfortunate as he was stung on his throttle hand, 10 minutes before we set of on a 7 hour ride on the bike. Aside from the intense pain the only side effects were that his fingers, toes, mouth and tongue went numb for 4 hours. The bottom line for us though is that even with the physical and mental changes we've undergone in 501 days we can't have changed that much because given the choice we would choose to do exactly what we're doing now all over again.

Since our last update we've traveled through 6 countries - Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and we're now in Panama. Our favorite was Guatemala and least favorite (overall) has been Costa Rica. However, each country is unique to itself and shouldn't be compared (but we do anyway). Guatemala was a love love country for us while Costa Rica is a love - hate country. 'Guat' as we've lazily come to call it was fantastic in every way. The people, scenery, diversity and climate were all a wonderful revelation for us.

'Costa Lot' as we've come to know it is totally bereft of culture, riding the bike is hell with the suicide drivers and as the name implies its bloody expensive. On the other hand the ecology and scenery is breath taking.

Looking into the steaming cauldron of a volcano is an incredible experience. There have been many highlights for us as we've ridden through these last 5 countries. Most recently has been the volcanoes of Poas, Irazu and Arenal. Arenal is one of the 10 most active volcanoes in the world and to stand before it at night and watch the lava come tumbling down and red hot boulders being thrown hundreds of metres into the air was awe inspiring.

The steaming green lakes hydrochloric acid and sulphur of Poas and Irazu were surreal. The waters look like something an artist has washed his brushes in. Poas is in the top 3 of the worlds most acidic lakes and one of the hottest at an average of 70 degrees C rising to 400 degrees C at the fumeroles.

Other highlights include getting as lost as we ever have in El Salvador. Its only now that we come to use the maps we have that we realise just how inaccurate they are. Many of the roads depicted on the maps are more of a wish list of what the government would like to have than what has really been built. While riding to Suchitoto we took one of the many El Salvadorian dirt roads cross country. There's a labyrinth of these roads that crisscross the country but of course aren't on our maps. It proved to be quite an adventure riding along through washouts, landslides and river crossings. At one point we reached a river which was far too deep to cross with the bike but everyone we had asked had told us we were going the right way to reach Suchitoto. There was a narrow suspension bridge crossing the 100 metre wide river but it wasn't designed for vehicles. Having ridden 120 miles down these dirt roads we weren't about to turn round so Chris decided to go for it.
"You're not going to take the bike across that are you?" I said a little worried.
"You wanted adventure didn't you. Well this is it!!" He replied grinning.
I stood and watched as he set off across the bridge with literally no more than an inch or two to spare on either side. The bridge looked pretty sound but the further Chris rode the bike across it the more it swayed from side to side. Every 20 metres or so he would have to stop and let it settle before riding on a little further. To cut a long story short he made it but it was terrifying to watch. Even a couple of local El Salvadorians who waited to cross looked on shaking their heads and making the sign of the cross until he was over. This is less than reassuring as the El Salvadorians are pretty crazy themselves.

We wanted to visit El Salvador as everything we had ever heard about it was negative and wanted to see if there was any truth to it all. We're pleased to say that for us at least it was a really friendly country, scenic and fun. People would flag us down and shake our hand in the middle of nowhere just to say hello and welcome us to their country. The food was good and cheap and many of the towns are beautiful and not as bullet ridden as we thought they would be. We would recommend it to anyone. AK47's are pretty cheap at $100 too.

If border crossings ever became a hobby Central America would be seventh heaven. Each border crossing has its own character and you never really know what's in store. Will it be easy or tough to get through. Will we be ripped off and will it take one hour or four hours to get from one side to the other. Crossing form Guatemala into El Salvador was one border where we thought we would have problems but we couldn't have been more wrong. Greeted with a smile at both customs and immigration we were assisted by english speaking officers who processed all our paperwork in 30 minutes and had us on our way having shared a coffee. On the other hand, having been lulled into a false sense of security we got to the Honduras border with our guard down and paid the price. Hours of hanging around for officers taking unscheduled breaks, money changers trying to rip us off and payments for meaningless paperwork. Hot, tired and both coming down with colds we had to keep reminding ourselves of the rules at any border. Smile, be patient, don't tell the officer he's a tosser even if he is, don't shout and just put it all down to experience. At one point we 'discussed' a requested payment of $20 for two hours before giving up and handing over the cash. We never did find out what that $20 was for.

On the other hand there are the entertaining moments when crossing borders. About to enter Nicaragua we stop at the customs road block, consisting of a 10 year old kid holding a rope across the road. While waiting for the customs officer to come out of the building we were accosted by a prostitute in clothes that hid nothing but got the mind racing. (She was very pretty!) We waved her away but she wasn't for moving. Finally we realised just how bad our spanish still is when we cottoned on to the fact that she was in fact the customs officer and not a prostitute at all. Evidently its an easy mistake to make in this part of the world. Thank God Chris didn't voice his thoughts! At the Honduras border another customs officer, this time not looking like a prostitute but with child in tow, took pity on us and decided to assist us getting through immigration. Without a uniform she looked like any other person at the border and the only clue to others was that she knew everyone. She lead us to the front of the queue for our papers to be processed whereupon a big old(ish)) lady who we stepped in front of took offense. We were happy for her to go ahead of us, especially since we were in effect pushing in but the customs officer was having none of it. She insisted that we should not have to wait our turn. We looked on as the customs officer and the old lady started pushing and shoving each other until the customs officer landed a hefty punch on the old lady's jaw. We sheepishly thanked the customs officer for her "assistance" and everyone else gave us a very wide berth! As we cross various borders we find that it doesn't matter how often you say you're English the various officers just write what they like. So far we have been Dutch, German and Canadian. The bike has been registered as Australian and Italian. Our occupations have been entered as artist, dancer, mechanic and several others. Chris spent his time in Nicaragua as a General in the British Army which is the most bizarre to date. As long as we have the right stamps in our passports and the VIN numbers on the bike are correct it doesn't seem to matter.

Now, as we've decided to make a push for Tierra del Fuego by New Year; each day rolls into the next as we ride south and site seeing has been replaced by adventure and a little adversity. It makes a nice change for us though. We had become too comfortable in Central America which is one of the reasons we've decided to make the push south for Tierra de Fuego. The challenges we've tasted so far will perhaps pail into insignificance by the time we reach there but there's no harm in that. So often its the hard days and the reward of having got though it in one peace that makes our memories for us - not the 763 churches we've seen or the gallons of pina coladas we've drunk for next to nothing (although they are very good!) The fact of the matter is that the miles are starting to tell on the bike, our motorcycle clothes smell like you wouldn't believe, as do we from time to time. On one meal a day the weight is dropping off us and we're run-down physically and mentally. All Chris got for his birthday was a sticker from El Salvador (thanks Horst and Christine) and a cold. We spend day after day getting hot, dirty and lost but it all adds up to what we crave - the unexpected and we're still loving it

We've been on the road for nearly one and a half years now which obviously makes us experienced "overland motorcycle adventurers". We're no longer "wanna-be's" or the people who need to ask the questions of the inexperienced. We've been there and done it all! So, here we are in Guatemala riding to Antigua on tires that are once again bald and in need of replacement. Every mile counts. We ride into a lovely town as we get closer to Antigua, the streets are cobbled and the builldings are Colonial and unmolested. A definate opportunity to take some photos and we stop outside a church, then we stop on a side street and take some more photos. Finally we decide time is getting on and we need to get back on the road to Antigua. We ride round the town looking for the road but as is the case everywhere in Guatemala there are no road signs and we ride around, up and down the same streets time and time again looking for the right road. It really is a lovely town and we swear to each other than in a day or two, once we get to Antigua we'll come back for the day and have a good walk round. The road to Antigua is not to be found so eventually, defeated and frustrated we pull over and Liz runs over the road to a Tourist Information Office. In her improving but poor Spanish she askes.
"Donde esta Antigua, por favour?"
The guy looks at her a little strangely. "Antigua es aqui!"
Liz thinks she hasn't pronounced it correctly, as sometimes happens. "No, direccion por Antigua, por favour?"
The guy repeats, "Antigua es aqui!" and looks at Liz even more strangely.
"Aqui?"
"Si, aqui. Es Antigua!" the guy repeats a third time with a sweep of the hands.
Realisation comes over Liz and with a laugh she says, "Soy de Ingleterra, lo siento - mi stupido!" (I'm from England, I'm sorry - I'm stupid!)
We've been on the road for nearly one and a half years now which obviously makes us experienced "overland motorcycle adventurers". We're no longer "wanna-be's" or the people who need to ask the questions of the inexperienced. We've been there and done it all! If there's one thing travelling as we are does for you it shows you up for what you are. In this case - lost and a confused.

Guatemala is a quite a country and one that we haven't seen nearly as much of as we would have liked to, mainly as a consequence of spending 3 weeks learning Spanish, or trying to. Being English we don't posses the all important gene that enables us to learn a second language which we think is why our forefathers set out to conquer the rest of the world and convert everyone to English. It could all have been so much easier for us if the Spanish had stayed at home. Oh well. Now realising we're in Antigua we came here via Tikal, Flores, Poptun, Coban, Huehuetenango, Xela and Lake Atitlan. All places worth visiting and all with their individual characters but nevertheless Guatemalan through and through. We've heard so many stories of the dangers in Guatemala and they are real, or can be, but even though we've seen evidence of those dangers we've only been greeted with openness and friendliness. In Coban a security guard walks over to me with a pump action shotgun and asks me for a cigarette. I give him one and not knowing what to do with his '12-gauge' he asks me to hold it while he lights his cigarette. There I am in a busy shopping area holding a loaded shotgun, 5 cartridges in the magazine and one in the chamber. I ask him if he really needs a shotgun or if its for show. He tells me he really needs it but has never used it! We're in Xela and we're walking back to our hostel with a couple of friends and a little worse for wear at 11:00pm. We round a corner and before us are 25 to 30 men in balaclavas with baseball bats. In no fit state to run anywhere we walk on with our fingers crossed and bid them a good evening. We're greeted with 25 to 30 men in balaclavas and baseball bats wishing us "Buenos noches, mucho gusto." We learn they are the good guys, family men doing a job the police should be doing but are too corrupt for. On seeing a vigilante group at first it feels intimidating and scary but ironically we and Xela is safer for them. We're in San Pedro, Lake Atitlan, an area renowned for (apparently) robberies, muggings and killings of tourists in the remote areas. We're in a remote area and on a remote road and come round a bend. Our path is blocked by car tires across the road and two men in plain clothes with handguns. Fate has finally caught up with us and we're in deep ............ The rule is that if you find yourself in such a situation you just don't stop unless there's no choice. We're not getting past the blockade so we have no choice but to stop. Here we go! It turns out the men are tourist police but don't have the money for a uniform. They've blocked the road because a bus has overturned a little way up on a blind corner. We thank them but explain that they could be taken for something more sinister than they are. They smile and laugh and we ride off realising that that's just Guatemala for you. Some of the dangers in Guatemala are real but most are perceived and a legacy of the 80's.

If any, the greatest danger in Guatemala is riding on the roads. There's a belief of immortality in road users that we've never seen before. Busses overtake us on blind bends, on wet roads with balded tires doing 70 mph+. Many of the roads are so rough that drivers use either side at any time anywhere just to avoid the potholes, regardless of what is coming the other way. Right of way comes down to the size of your vehicle. Mine's bigger than yours mate! Having said all that, if you ever come to Guatemala and only ever travel one road here make sure its the road from Coban to Huehuetenango (known locally as "Wee-wee"). The '7W' is described on our map as "Major road - unpaved." Unpaved yes, major - they've got to be kidding. Its a road that takes in some of the most spectacular scenery in the country, following tropical river valleys, ascending and winding over and between volcanoes up onto barren mountain tops with views that go on forever. However the road is such that there is no time to take your eyes off it and take in the views. River crossings, gravel, washed out hair-pin bends with 18 inch ruts carving them up. Bridges of which 50% have been stolen to rebuild someone's house and mud slides from the seasonal rains (and boy does it rain).

Some of the bends are so tight the only way round them is to get the back wheel spinning and stepping out. Its a road that takes 110% concentration but is fun all the way too.

Looking back I can't believe we considered doing it 2-up but it would have been our loss if we hadn't. Don't try it on a Goldwing but if an AT or KTM etc. is between your legs you'll love it. The route isn't always obvious as you ride through mountain villages populated by indigenous people in traditional clothes so colourful it takes your breath away. Time and time again we ask which way to "Wee-wee " trying not to laugh knowing you have to be English to understand the joke. Each time people come over and point to the way before touching the bike and asking if we'll swap it for their wife and 2 pigs. (We still have the bike!)

We've canoed on Lake Atitlan, climbed Chicobal Volcano to a sacred lake, ridden roads like no other, and met people whose culture hasn't changed for hundreds of years. Guatemala is a magical country and we'll be sorry to leave but leave we must. El Salvador here we come.