Mierda Loca

There's nothing to write about.  The trip was booked on three days notice.  The scope limited, the goals modest.  And for as quick as a seven day trip to CR will breeze by like a Sinatra song, it turns out maybe there's more to it than that-

I think it goes without saying that I truly dig my time on the road with a fevered passion for the new and unexplored.  The drive towards scenarios free of direction has led me to some pretty amazing corners of Latin America, allowed me the time and freedom to expand my person and grow through the wisdom and vitality of complete strangers turned close friends.  The pure, raw energy of the unexpected and unknown fuel me like the sun, water, and cocaine.  What a way to charge the machine year in and year out, but as I said this quick shot to Costa Rica was different.  

There wasn't the new this time.  There wasn't the uncharted adventure full of question and anticipation, no this time there was exactly what I said:  Limited scope, modest goals.  So instead of the challenges that face a typical Overbagh, BS, down-south walk-about this trip was an easy breezy seven days to enjoy the company of some of my best friends on earth.  A return to the known, the normal, and the expected.  Like this-

You have seven days to run loose in CR because your crew back home are a bunch of gangsta ass thugs so..........

You kick La Liga ass for the Championship and party in the streets of San Jose til all hours of the morning

You surf big Caldera and scare the shit out of the Tico and yourself, way too big for either of you

You make a point of keeping it cool in Samara with beers, volleyball, and good friends

You surf Cameronal like usual, but it's big this time, fucking big.  Big Monday, bigger Tuesday, and biggest Wednesday  

You paddle around in legitimate 12-14' Cameronal and watch your best friend almost die, a very close call

You digest what it all means

You watch said friend live, love, and grow right in front of your eyes, maybe death was near, but the life, o the life!

You eat the best Ceviche, camp, and drink beers in the pure Guanacaste of Bejuco

You eat bocas on the last day your favorite bar in the world is open for business in the location they have been for 20 years

You eat bocas on the first day your favorite bar in the world is open for business in the location they will be for 20 more

You sow the foundations of lasting friendship with beautiful people, beautiful Anita

You run into Galan and Luis, yeah Galan the horse, and he's still a badass.  They both are

You surf Samara for the first time in years, you surf Buena Vista in perfect, shit conditions

You drink endless ice-cold Pilsens

You barely make your 9 am bus to San Jose

You sleep the entire way 

You rejoin the best group of friends a Gringo could ask for in Escazu for one more night on the town

You share the heartfelt embraces of those individuals that you are proud to say define you

You brown-out the airport experience.... again

You are in love with a life that refuses to slow down

You know that without trips like this to put everything in perspective,          

                                             there would be nothing to write about

--Aaaand here's Mick Fanning making our 12-14' day look like a joke--

the best is still to come

So yeah, that's a wrap!  It all ended about the same way it began.  The giant, and I mean giant smile that swept over my face and the sounds of elation that made their way from my lungs were present first on those back-roads of Costa Rica and then again on that bridge over the Rio Grande.  It's a very genuine feeling when you're that happy, when your emotional state is best described with a memory.  It excites a being that very well may be inside all of us and so seldom do they appear that even in the moment you don't realize where you are or what your doing, you're just that fucking happy, you just feel that good.  Anyway, the trip has that as its bookends.  I guess in reality it has a botched horseback adventure on one end and a 15 hour drive in a rental car full of gas fumes on the other end but that doesn't sound nearly as romantic.  No, we'll go with the standing up on the motorcycle yelling at the wind whilst inviting any and all insects into your grill and not giving a damn version.  I like that one more.....

All told Galan and I put down about 7500 km's over the course of 7 weeks.  I got to spend more time exploring Central America and the south coast of Mexico than I had the tolerance for with Kombi.  I met all of the people I was supposed to meet, they're amazing and I'll see the right ones again somewhere down the road.  The real lessons learned surely pale in comparison to the lessons to be learned from this trip.  I found all of this, all of this from one Suzuki 125 with a bald rear tire and an oil habit similar to my alcohol habit.  The freedom that Galan's reliability gave me is immeasurable, the knowledge of what is possible strikes the same cord.  I think I ended the Kombi blog with something about sitting down to write a short story or some other in depth BS about it and I guess I'll say the same now but it's probably not true.  

Who knows; I do know I'm glad to be home, I missed my friends and family here in Fort Collins, I missed Road 34 and the new bar and Sushi.  I missed mountain biking, good times, good red wine, and jazz.  I guess it's just different, that's why I love it.  There's something to be said for constantly gaining perspective and always liking what you see.......

-All Love-

#YOOO

It's my fault for not taking the time to keep this deal updated and this trip well documented.   Believe me, I'll wish I had written more somewhere down the road when I go to reminisce late at night with a coupe of bottles of wine and good company.  It can't really be considered a fault when your days are just too full of the good times to take the time to write about it, I guess when it's all said and done that's why I'm not a writer.  I just have to be realistic with my limits and appreciate that while I may not have the capacity to document everything I sure as hell have the drive to create, and occasionally remember.  So yeah, no posts since like Christmas and you can rest assured that way to much shit has happened since then to even begin to write about it.  There's nowhere to start and as of yet there's no ending so why even try.  Quickly though- I found George and Rachel, I found Patzcuaro, I found mountains, Cartels, traffic, Mezcal, tunnels, friends, Guanajuato, beer, and that my piece can almost become an "innie".  It's fucking cold here man.......   Today was 6 hours and 310km over and through the mountains with a temperature range of some 35-50 degrees.  I don't have the gear for this sort of motorcycle "overlanding" so I'm simply piecing together clothes I score along the way and must look like some sort of thrift store riding a Suzuki 125 on the shoulder of the highway.  But alas I'm only a day or two away from the border and as stoked as ever to get back to the good ol US of A.  Again with a stop at the Chicko's, a quick beer with Mex, and I'll be on my way back to Colorado.  See you all soon!!!!

-Mitch Dodson