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