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

 

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..........