Some of those times

Part 1 of 2  (written 12.26.13)

Almost......Almost made that mistake again.  Call it what you will but the sense or ability to feel your way through life to know or at least explore opportunity is something of a developed art form.  I'm not saying I'm good at it but I will say that I am pretty much always ready to learn.  Ready for what could happen.  So as I rolled over that speed bump and started to get back into the gas there was a reason that couple drinking beer on the side of the road caught my eye.  I kept on with my throttle and ALMOST didn't think twice, but this time (as with so many others) I got about 500m down the road and did think twice.  I turned my small two wheeler around and set on stopping to see what was pulling me in, why I was drawn to that particular restaurant out of the probably 75 I had passed in the last 100 km.  Same old scene upon sitting down with this couple for a beer: he's drunk, she's getting there.  I order up another big beer for the three of us and before you know it our party blooms to a half dozen, all with beers at the ready.  Turns out this couple is family with the restaurant owners and seeing as it's Christmas they insist on me joining them to the town party that evening.  We're talking a town of maybe 1500 people and this might possibly be the biggest party of the year.  Arrangements are made for my hammock that night on the premises, a quick shower, much more beer, and off we set for the town square.  I'd say the party was typical by Latin American standards but there really isn't such a thing, two live bands back to back, dancing into the night fueled by too much beer and food for any one four hour span.  After all of the antics displayed that night and good times (short stories too numerous to detail) hugs were traded and our party drifted it's way back to the restaurant with a solid dozen or so in tow.  I wasn't really that drunk but F I had eaten so much food between two families forcing plate after plate on me I actually felt sick.  After maybe 5 or 6 more beers it really would have behooved me to make for a secluded area to vomit six or seven times, but in my state my hammock sounded like the proper solution.  Now a better story would have been that I woke up in the mosquito proof hammock and couldn't get out in time and yaked all over myself (this almost happened), but no, I made my way to the outhouse just in time to realize that the window for puking had passed as the food was well on it's way out the other end.  So I've finally achieved the purge I've been looking for on this trip, it's the first time so far on this journey that I've really had one of those good old fashioned explosive, grab the toilet, piss from the butt, make weird noises from your throat that resemble words yet have no real meaning past an expression of worried surprise kinda deals.  It's actually a bit of a relief the time I've spent getting to know this outhouse, feels good, feels healthy, but dammit there's no time to dwell on my deep rooted affection for a good clean-out, my time with the family is growing by the moment......  I mentioned this is part 1 of 2 because as I was getting set to blast off this morning Manuel, the patriarch of the family, informed me that two days from now is the real biggest party of the year:  His daughter's Quinceanera.  It didn't take very much convincing and I'm here in Tapanala for three days and three nights doing my best to stave off drinking with this family; it began again at 8 am this morning.....  I'll join soon enough, maybe one more session with the outhouse and a quick trip to buy another blanket (it was actually cold as hell last night).  I'm half-way home on this two part pare, who knows what will happen tomorrow.....  Who ever knows what will happen tomorrow?

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Part 2 of 2  (written 12.29.13)

Now that's an F'ing Quinceanera!!  I guess I know this is part 2 of 2 and it seems like part 1 was dominated by a signature shit story but since I wrote part 1 I've been vexed by the fact that I somehow didn't get the real point across.  Maybe I just needed part 2 to go ahead and take place so I would have a more clear picture of what exactly it means to come into contact with this family by chance and happen upon two legit parties in three days.  I mean the chances of the whole thing are not only impossible but at times made what was happening in front of my eyes seem surreal.  So I did my best to simply digest the material and really get an idea for what and why I was there.  Part 2 produced fodder for my mental and spiritual.  It made me understand that what I'm really interested in is the real and genuine emotion behind a life so different than my own that I am literally a spectator and have no real ability to take place in this game.  I did, I drank and I helped prepare everything from literally a truck full of meat to the decorations to setting the tables, filling holes in the parking lot, digging post holes, setting the cake display, serving beer, taking pictures, and collecting trash.  In all of those respects I was a "part" of it, but most of that shit lacks the emotion that I found so intriguing.  I lack the words and expressive ability to say how it all made me feel; it made me feel like not getting drunk, it made me want to see and do everything in the world.  The pure emotion that took place last night was that of dreams, books, make-believe, etc, it will not be soon forgotten.  An exercise in life so vivid and real it trumps anything I've read or dreamed.  It's purposefully contradictory and I know that but that's what it was, the whole thing.  I'm not saying the three days in Tapanala changed my life or anything but I will raise a toast to Manuel, Rosi, Julissa, Guillermo, the people of Tapanala and say here's to life!

I suppose I didn't even talk about what "exactly" was going on in those three days but it's filled with all of the stories and good times allowed by law.  Not governed law but the simple laws of nature, it shouldn't get any better than this, but I know it will, it always will.  My hangover driving away from Tapanala this morning had nothing to do with booze or sleep, my soreness and sadness I bore with a smile because I understand what it takes to feel this way and it simply makes me happy.  

Oh and in case you were wondering, the open fire hydrant that was my ass has subsided and we're back on a semi-normal schedule, back on the moto, and back to finding the Nettles'.....  
Merry Christmas everyone, lots of Love to you all-

Will

The Idiot

So I took two different cracks at trying to write about my last 28 hours in El Salvador with almost no success.  I tried in vain to put to paper exactly what the fuck went down there that last night: the first try a terrible attempt at a comedy laden, reverse timeline of events, again trying to be clever when I'm really not and the second just a simple recital of the night.  Upon rereading and proofreading they both sucked.....  So I'll keep it simple and just say that I ended up at a rock show on the beach then the after party at a multi-million dollar mansion of an eccentric dude who was into drugs, guns, tigers, and being the lead singer of said rock band.  Shit got weird, like stories of shooting fish in the ocean from this ocean-side, cliff-hanging villa to how one of his tigers bit his finger off, to how he would get his guards to put beer cans on their head so he could shoot them off with his hand gun.  I stuck to the beers and smoked my share of grass but the rest of the party did not.  No this is El Salvador and this dude is or was VERY plugged into the drug biz.  The throttle was definitely pinned at this point and talk of drugs and guns gave way to thoughtful conversation on live music, regrets, and the US political/ economic influence in Latin America; which I must say produced pride all around when we were done.  A ride home at 4 am in an armored Range Rover brought the night to a close.  As per usual a brutally hungover morning of driving well over the legal BAC limit and 4 hours of astounding bullshit to get into Guatemala awaited me.
One of the things I did do well in one of my other attempts to write about this deal was explain why I truly LOVE a deep, nasty, soul-wrenching hangover.  God dammit it ALWAYS means you shredded the shit out of life last night, it has really made me appreciate the value in those hangovers.  If you can't see that then you're an alcoholic and your body is telling you stop so you should just give up drinking all together.

I'm in Guatemala now and the waves have more or less gone flat so I'll be headed to Mexico tomorrow and hope that some swell works it's way to Galan and I.  Though the surf was more or less non-existent I did find some cool ass beaches and people in Guatemala that will definitely be reason for a return trip some time soon.  Galan got to take a boat trip, I got to get bored and snap some pictures and video ripping down the road.  All times Crunk, Crunk.  With waves I'll be another 2 weeks or so on the Mexico south coast then blast my way through the mountains over to Texas and home.  

Focus

Sorry for the delay folks, not that people are exactly blowing me up with questions as to where and how I am, but this deal definitely deserves an update.  I'm not sure why I haven't been inspired to write about this trip very much or why I feel like this is kind of even not really noteworthy but all of that is directly represented by the lack of activity on the blog.  

So yeah, since I bought the moto some four weeks ago and gave up on the horse gig I was basically in search of what to do with my time and how I could best use the remainder of my trip (a month).  Naturally I began to get antsy driving around CR and soon thereafter started making the preparations for a haul north back to the USA.  I've driven a similar route with Kombi but knew very well that where Kombi lacked in off-road ability the moto would surely be ready to kick ass.  And there it is, I made my way through Nica over the course of 9 days with great surf and what I hope to be a successful venture into some property there..(maybe, big maybe) And I am currently drifting through El Salvador on my way north to Mexcio to hook up with George and Rankin somewhere around Puerto Escondido sometime around xmas.  Then it should be a haul up through the mountains of Mexico and into Texas to meet up with Chicko in Austin again.  Same old shit right????  Hahahaha, sure thing, just on a Suzuki 125 this time.  Man the highfives and goodtimes that have been had so far have been amazing.  Shit I think the only thing that has become an issue at this point (aside from the astonishing amount of oil Galan drinks) is breaking off the conversations every time I stop for fuel, a beer, oil, or food.  Everyone just wants to know what the hell I'm doing on this moto with this surf board, heading north?  I makes no sense till we talk it out, laugh it out, drink it out.  Then it makes sense....  

I did finally sit down the other evening and write out a lot of what it is that drives me to travel.  Kind of a big deal to be able to put into words what it is that drives my stoke.  It's long winded, obvious, and thoughtful so I won't bother with posting it, but if you want to talk about it sometime feel free to ask.  I'm not much of a talker and all but I'll find the time...  Word up party people, I'll be seeing most of you sometime around the new year.  Cheers!!!

Surfing Nica and such

Hmmmmm......  Where to begin.  Well I've made my way to Nicaragua at this point and have been trying to settle an internal battle with myself as to what direction to head next.  

I know it's been a couple of weeks since my last update, but to be honest I haven't been doing all that much.  I mean as far as I'm concerned I'm killing it and each and every moment has been exactly right.  Exactly why I came on this trip to begin with.  But as far as what you guys might find entertaining not so much.  Futbol playoffs at Saprissa stadium, a couple days in the mountains with Barrett and family, ripping Galan all over CR and into Nica.  Shopping for property in the middle of nowhere.  Surfing and lots of beer.  Incoherent, abbreviated blog posting.  Nothing to write home about I suppose.  Way to much fun to explain.
So as for which direction I'm going  -  North
Oh and I got barreled twice in the last two days, there's that..........

Motorcycles are the new Kombi's right??

Getting back to square one is often a feat in and of itself.  I have learned this many times over in my life and have even come to consider it a great success given certain circumstances.  Thus far I can soundly say I'm more than happy with the way this trip has unfolded because, simply put, I only do this shit for the adventure along the way.  There's never really a destination and so by all measurable points this has been one hell of a success and one hell of an adventure.  So here we are, me and Galan, back at hotel Sueno Tropical with Bert, Jose, and Joanne contemplating what the first real day of this next trip is going to be like.(tomorrow)  Who knows how far we'll make it, shit if it all goes well I'll be seeing you guys in Colorado in no time (4-5 weeks).  The waves were small last week but they seem to be picking up so the timing of my departure south to San Miguel is perfect.  Just F'ing prefect!!!  Dammit I'm so stoked I can barely hold it in.  Jesus Christo Mae, what a great damn life!!!  Everybody......  Meet Galan: 

it made sense to everyone but me

I may as well get this down on paper while it's still fresh in my mind.  As I said in the previous post I have this distinct feeling that Galan and I were destined for failure from the outset.  I knew from the very earliest stages of planning that the likelihood of success on this particular endeavor was somewhere in the single digit range so I guess that makes the current smile on my face reasonable.  So it didn't work, whatever, no big deal, but why didn't it work?

Well as I said, for my part it was simply just not being prepared.  I don't have the knowledge or the supplies to make a serious run at camping on horseback for 30 days or any trip resembling such a thing.  I had no idea just what it took to keep Galan happy and in fact did not even recognize the most overbearing trait of most every horse in the world that eventually doomed the trip on the whole.  By the minute, hour, and day Galan had only one thought: getting back to that farm.  So over the course of the five days we traveled together he made every effort to get free from the fences, ropes, bridles, whatever, and break for the finca.  He managed to free himself two times total with the second being around 9 or so at night outside of a bar I had ridden to to have beers and dinner.  With the help of the bar owner and his moto we tracked Galan down in the pouring rain and proceeded to corral him with limited success.  Thirty minutes later through jungle and swamp we finally pinned him enough to throw a rope over his neck and get the bridle and saddle back on him.  Holy shit man, that was the last straw.  Galan was risking himself in a very major way just following his instincts all the while taxing the shit out of me and draining the life out of this gloriously romantic horseback, Guanacaste, surf, camp, soulfind.  So that was it, I resolved to return to camp that night in the pouring rain, with a couple of beers for the ride, the following morning had a stellar surf, packed my shit up and rode back into town to return Galan to safety.  Luis the farm owner was more than relieved at my return as he said that Galan had in fact lost considerable weight, but shared his sincere surprise that I was actually with Galan when he made it home.  His guess was that Galan would show up at his place one morning and leave me high and dry.

Anyway, sorry for the long-winded BS but I figure a couple of people might want to know the deal. Crazy thing was that when we were actually riding together we kicked serious ass.  We got to where we could full out run when we wanted and I had full command over our actions in total.  Back to the drawing board, I'll do it again someday down the road.  It'll be with my own horse and a shitload more experience.  I can still raise my beer to toast Galan, we had a blast man...

By the numbers-

5 Days
4 Nights
44 Kilometers covered
3 Surf Sessions
4 River Crossings
2 Escapes
0 Falls
0 Broken Bones
1 Broken Heart
200 Or So US Dollars
Countless Lessons big and small
Countless New Friends
1 Hell of a good story.........


So the trip has taken a turn, I'll update this deal as soon as I have a little clarity on the real direction this deal is going to take...  Time to surf mae

Kenny Rogers.....................

It was all headed toward this.  Maybe it's because I knew that from the outset, maybe I F'd myself by not seeing the end of the road where I wanted it to end but rather where all signs pointed.  "Look at the line you want to ride, not all of the shit you DON'T want to hit."  That's what we always say about riding a mountain bike fast.  So yeah, in more ways than one this conclusion is my fault.  I was starring it down from day one.  I mean in the end Galan's irreversible instinct to go home was what sealed our fate but the fault does not lye squarely on anyone's shoulders but my own.  I simply wasn't prepared for this deal, I didn't have the supplies or the knowledge to execute whatever lofty plan I may have concocted.  Nor did I figure in any of the complexities that swarm attempting to travel, camp, surf, live via horseback.  My abilities to put out fire after fire were pushed to their end and eventually the whole motherfucker just simply burned down.  Ashes and memories, knowledge for another day, a handful of friends along the way, the beauty in failure.  The only thing better than playing and winning; is playing and losing.....  

I'll elaborate on just how we arrived at this point later, but rest assured I'm safe and Galan is home at his finca for good.  Just in the nick of time

Going for broke.... Somehow this makes sense

(written 11.20.13)


One aspect of this deal that has been working like hell to wear me thin is the fact that at each and every opportunity Galan tries to turn for home.  And I mean for real, like I stop to feed him and after the first few bites he starts to trot home.  Each time I stop him, turn him around, and explain to him that this trip has only just begun.  On top of that he keeps trying to get loose at night and trot home.  He's only succeeded once and I luckily tracked him down, but the really fucked up part is that each time he does this there is a part of me that wants to give in, wants to say he's right and that this whole thing is just a ridiculous idea that should be put out of it's misery.  But alas, each time I turn him back, away from home, towards whatever is next and down a road that has at times seemed like well, a waste of fucking time.  Who knows, I may wrap this trip up and find that Galan knew what was best all along and I should have just hitchhiked and surfed.  It's hard to say, but as I camp here at Camaronal tonight I know that tomorrow will bring perfect waves and hopefully a little clarity to push me on.  We did take a ride to the bar in El Camren 3 km away this evening, it was a  damn good time, two plates of food, 4 beers, 2 more for the road(3km ride back to camp, pitch black night), and a drunk guy who left early and wrecked his car.....  Perfect Guanacaste, Perfect Galan, Perfect Guaro, Perfect.......

Meanwhile back at camp I think that fourth shot of Guaro might have done me in.  My thoughts are pretty much exclusively on the matter at hand here.  All of my dealings with Galan, he hates this shit and I'm doing my damnedest to make it at least tolerable for him.  We're heading south tomorrow, further from home.  I'm not sure how far this trip will take us, it's literally day-to-day at this point.  At times I feel like we're finding our stride but I also know I could wake up tomorrow just to find him gone, sprinting for home....  This whole horse thing is so god damn new to me it is testing the limits.  Needless to say in all good ways, the test is legit and the endeavor noble(if not stupid), it will produce the results we're looking for.  Just takes time.....

Caballos y Gringos..... Mala Mierda, Buena Mierda

Yeah yep, so I pretty thoroughly fucked this one up...  I mean there's something to the spot I'm in.  There's got to be something to the plans I've made and the retarded preparations I thought I had put so much thought into, right??  Well shit, sometimes a guy has got to know when he has simply barked up the wrong tree, and dammit if I could really get into the details of my first hours with this horse you would understand that this is not only the wrong tree but I can't bark to begin with...  That kinda makes sense...  This whole fucking thing only kinda makes sense....................................

I set out from Samara with my overweight back pack, surfboard, cowboy boots, cowboy shirt, cowboy jeans, cowboy booze, and a pure country (the movie) cowboy attitude.  I simply had to get to this horse and load it up with my shit and ride away into the sunset right.  Easy breezy, I've seen Clint, Tom, and Brad do it.  Shit Chevy did it.  It has to be that simple, just be in command and ride the damn horse.  

I think it's pretty obvious where this going.  With my backpack falling off the horse and my surfboard partially on the back of the horse then under my arm and then on the back again I managed to more or less walk and ride my horse for about 10 km through and around the town of Estrada, Costa Rica.  Remember that this is a Sunday and the only thing other than the local futbol game happening on the small plaza field to watch is this pale, sweating, confused gringo with a horse and surfboard falling all over the street.  You didn't forget the great "cowboy" get-up did you?  Yeah well I guarantee they haven't either.  Holy shit what a sight it must have been and so day one unfolded in such a way that my first reaction was not to shed ego but to start shedding gear.  First I handed my surfboard to a perfect stranger passing by and asked that he keep it safe for 4 weeks until my return from this epic journey.  Then as I reached the river I realized that I had to get rid of the rest of my gear, all of it, save the essentials.  The trip must go on!!  As planned!!  

Nope, nada, hell no...As the reality of my sure defeat sank in I decided not to dump everything I owned in an effort to continue but to simply give in to fate.  I had seriously fucked this thing up..... DAMMIT!

After a small window of digestion, I turned back with my head up, a big smile, and a whisper of an ego.  I began my 4 km walk back to the farm from which my day had started.  Without the board the walk was a touch easier, but the shear reality that I had grossly underestimated this project started to weigh pretty heavy on me. It was over before it began.  I managed to find the address where the surfboard had retreated and found the place to be pretty damn top notch.  A quick beer and chat had my bag stored with the board so it was only left to me to return the horse.  Such was the true low point of day one, with no gear still having to walk to horse 3 km back to this farm because,....... well because, I don't know how to ride a horse.  SO lame

Some thoughtful conversation with the guys here at the lodge as well as a solid pat on the shoulder from Cody and Amber(via Skype) had me feeling better about my failures later that night.  I had arranged to get my money back the next morning and resolved to simply put my thumb out and begin a hitch-hiking surf trip around the Nicoya.  I know how to do that shit so let's roll, it'll be fun and I'll shred and it's on.  Different sure, but F it, I can ride horses in Colorado right, I can only surf here.  With all of my lessons learned and resolve to ride horses upon my return to CO I got pretty cocktailed Monday night with the guys here at the lodge. 

That's when IT happened.  Drunk, disoriented, and purely exhausted I lay there in bed through the night not wanting sleep in the least, my thoughts were buried in the depths of just where I had gone wrong.(All of it)  And I came to the conclusion then and there that this cannot be the end of my horseback surf trip.  Just think it through a bit Will.  And so I'll save you all the bullshit heroics of how I got to where I am now(I leave tomorrow morning around 7 on horseback for who knows what on the Nicoya)  It's still just me and my horse, we're kinda cool now, kinda.  I'll do my best to elaborate but this post is already way to long, certainly to long to proofread.  Suffice to say that it has all come around and as always I have one hell of a story to tell.  Signing off for now, much love.  Rolliam

Luis, Jose, Bert, Gary, Christian, and most of all Galan....  Dudes, Thank you SO much!!  

Here we go again...... again

It's been a while, almost two years ago I suppose.  Kombi and I wrapped up a truly epic journey from the depths of South America to the comforts of her home now in Road 34.  That trip set the bar pretty F'ing high for both she and I. For her part I think she has continued on with the ass kicking and has partied pretty damned hard with Markixxx while holding down the duties of sound engineer booth at 34.  For my part, well I think I held up my end of the deal.  It's been a profound couple of years filled with unexpected personal growth via the most amazing people, friends, family, relationships, business endeavors, walkabouts, booze, and booze any one man should ever be blessed with.  But alas it's time to get back on the road again.  Sure it's a little different this time - Kombi is a horse....  But a Kombi's a Kombi's right??  At the end of the day it's always been about the people, and this time I plan to meet them all.      ALL  OF  THEM!!!!!

Round whatever...  As it turns out I have the great fortune of taking one hell of a variety of different trips year in and year out.  No matter whether they are with friends, family, or solo they all seem to have their own personality and take on a unique meaning by the time it's all said and done.  So as I embark on this latest fiasco I'm left sitting here in seat 25D UA flight 1594 wondering just how this trip will be different and just what it means to take off by oneself in search of an objective so vague and so questionable it makes the first weeks with Kombi seem so distant.  The lessons learned then are in my full conscience now, the good times and break-throughs harder to find,  I know now that it's on and I mean sure the last trip of this nature started almost identically but with a 1300 cc motor on three cylinders and this time I will literally be relying on a one horse power motor.  But really does the mode of transport define the trip that much???  

Well, I'm off to find out, for as much a I loved seeing 30,000 km of Latin America with Kombi I am sure that a mere 200-300 km on horseback will produce exactly whatever it is I'm in search of.  

Did I mention I don't know a single fucking thing about horses?  

On Shred Nettles, On Shred....

At least my back pack is ready