Solo, Solo

Corozalito, Costa Rica. Word has it Pamela Anderson was just here a few weeks ago doing some sort of slutty photo shoot on a beautiful beach bit. Well I suppose I can't blame her or the magazine for choosing one of my favorite beaches in world. It is simply stunning here, the beach itself, the waves, the non-stop offshore wind, and the liberating lack of human life. I'll admit, Corozalito has more people now than she did a few years ago, and shit did the road in ever go to hell (to the point that as I write this I'm questioning how Kombi and I are getting out), but some time right around sunset the beach goes completely empty and I have the entire place to myself right till 9 or 10 the next morning. I'm camped here for a couple of nights and headed to surf Camoranal in the morning. Corozalito is also a turtle refuge of sorts making the nightly occurrence of several enormous turtles laying eggs somewhat commonplace. As well as those giant fuckers coming up right next to you while you're waiting for a wave, always startling no matter how many times it happens.

I've now driven almost all of Costa Rica and still coming back to this beach feels like home. All in all it is this that I have come to find in Costa Rica, yes I've done it before but this time it is offering me so much more. This, this Nicoya, this Samara, this Corozalito, on this trip, has a very different context and is doing my soul a lot of good. What a gauge: visit one, two, and three times, then visit by way of driving from another hemisphere and see how the place really makes you feel...

I other news I have a few more weeks to go before I roll this ol girl into Fort Collins and I'll admit it, dammit I'll admit it because it's true and I feel it. I'm getting home sick, I miss Minor, Jen, My family at Road 34, and everyone else that makes me know why I call Fort Collins home and all of these other places I've experienced just a vacation. I'm looking forward to it, maybe a little to far out but it's on my mind and in my heart. See you all soon enough... (Jen hug that baby for me)

(I'll add pictures later, my camera cable, credit cards, and Mexi's hat have been in  San Jose for the past few days.  Don't ask, long story.)

**Editors note-  No bullshit, in the two days that I stayed at Corozalito construction crews grated and smoothed the road in, The drive out was easy breezy.  I can't believe that sort of luck, holy shit...

That button on your steering wheel....

Happy New year ya'll. So it seems the crazy shit that was South America and transporting Kombi to North America and the week in Cartagena and the FARC and booze and flights and hitchhikers and wild uncertainty and more and more and well yeah, is behind me.... For now. It has really just been cruise control for the past week with some legit surfing and quality time with my good friend Chino. Chino went to school at CSU for two years, a year or so ago, and is a Costa Rican national that does a lot of business down in Panama. So Chino and I met up at Tucaman International Airport in Panama City and have been shootin the breeze, drinking very cold beer, driving north, and finding waves where possible: Crusie Control. Kombi is running incredibly well with no problems to speak of, in a couple of days I'll go to the city of Nicoya to buy her new shoes, then head into the back country of the Nicoya peninsula and her beaches. Lots of beaches for another week or so here then it's off to Nicaragua for well, more beaches.
I think it's an amazing thing how inspiring the best things in life can be, but on the opposite end of that spectrum is the inspiration of adversity and the worst of the worst. Seeing both and feeling the inspiration must be the reason I'm here because it's the most sincere way I can evaluate and value my life, position, progress, and overall being. Both good and bad sure, but all inspiration. Maybe Thoreau said it best, "I never dreamed of an enormity greater than I have committed. I never knew, and shall never know, a worse man than myself."
So whether it's lit up with Nate in Bermejo, FARCed with Kael in Bunaventura, maxing and relaxing with Chino in Panama, or strait fucked up with Owen in Cartagena; it can't, it won't get any better than this. What a life? I should say so myself....

Christmas in Dixie

For a couple of years now I've been fortunate enough to spend the 25th of December a touch further south than Dixie.  Last year it was a very relaxed dinner and cocktails in Arica, Chile.  This year....  Well uh, this year it was a little differnt.  Most of you understand the the phrase "take her easy tonight" doesn't really mean shit when I say it.  So in an effort to "take her easy" for Christmas this year all was lost.  And by this I mean I, we, everyone in Cartagena, Colombia did one of the wildest 48 hour Christmas party, full throttle, life expounding, forget nothing, learn everything, wax, booze sessions I've ever been a part of.  Normally, as per the intent of this blog, I would write a descripitive account of all that was.  This time I can only say thank you to Micheal, Migulito, Owen, Felix, Jeanine, Marcel, the rest of the Aussie crew, and lastly Luchito.  What an amazing life I shred day to day. 

Oh and Cody, we need to talk about the relationship of the individual to the notion of equality.  Heavy shit man.

I'm surfing Panama with Chino now, I'm in Central America with nothing but mostly paved roads between Road 34 and this hotel.  Much love my friends, I'll see you soon!

The New Leg Two....

This is difficult for me to say, type whatever but F it. I've been holding my tongue for the past 4 days trying, really, really trying to be patient and let things play out before I go and post about what's next. The past 4 days have been the epitome of this wack ass life that constantly resembles a roller coaster in more ways than one: It seems like it's made for children, it's only fun because of the highs and lows(the highest point on a roller coaster is only fun because how low you go before and after it, if you get stuck at the top the ride sucks) and at the end of it (daily) I feel like I've had my ass kicked, whiplash and all. Well folks the roller coaster that is trying to ship a 1981 VW Kombi to Panama is one for the ages. 
*-If you're stoked on this post you should stop reading now, the rest is going to be boring ramble about shipping a car and being an idiot...

To pick up where I left off on the previous post rolling into Cartagena was a fairly emotional day in the big picture of this trip. I immediately dried my tears and set out to find the agency that helps tourist ship vehicles, drastically different than Buenaventura, not even the same fucking ballpark. After interviewing with them and learning the next ship was on the 23rd I signed up and figured the rest would just kind of move along right. I mean I had 4 days to sort it out. I went back on the 21st to commence the paperwork and started with the laying out of all of my stuff on the desk and talking it up with Louis when his wife mentioned the word "Aduana". "What's Aduana," I said. "you have it there in the papers" "No I've never heard that word in my life" "No no no. You have Aduana in the somewhere". Well there was about 5 minutes of this, me assuring them I had no Aduana and them insisting that was impossible. See over the next 15 or minutes I learned that this was a completely obligatory piece of paper that I should have recieved when I crossed into Colombia. Apparently with this paper you probably won't have your car taken by the military or police, but without it you're guaranteed to have your car taken by the cops. It's like that, taken. Side of the road with all your shit in hand, taken. No questions(especially for a Gringo) just gone. By now I'm sure you all can understand my surprise at this news seeing as how i had just conducted Kombi for two weeks over the entirety of the country with at least twenty different stops at police checkpoints and lengthy conversations about my business in Colombia. My immediate reflections on how in hell this was possible brought up the usual suspects: my Mom and Mexi and such looking out for me....Constantly. Shit shit shit. It doesn't make sense, I drove all of Colombia with no insurance and no Aduana being the best friend of men in uniform, Christ even talking my way out of a legitimate ticket for making a dangerous pass on a double yellow (I explained that Kombi was old and like a turtle so it was impossible to drive her dangerously, we all laughed, looked at their guns, laughed some more and they sent me on my way without inspecting the content of the stack of papers I handed them. Magic.) So at that point Kombi was basically hot property in this country illegally. This was bad, really bad. I had one day to figure this shit out or wait till the next boat a full week into the new year. Even then I would have to drive to the border with Venezuela exit and return to get the proper paperwork, all the while trying not to get my car taken by the fuzz.

Louis and Sonya were more than compassionate to my situation helping me with the people in the Aduana office here to sort out a solution for this problem but alas at the end of the day they just shut me down. They simply said no. The Gringo fucked up, the Gringo must face the consequences of his own ineptitude. Got it. That night I stopped by and talked with Kombi, basically deciding that I would drive her North through Colombia and surf for a couple of week then try and sell her and fly home. It was a sad night, sad indeed. I drank. I drank with Kombi. I drank on the street corner with drug dealers, prostitutes, and police. Gotta get low to get high.

A new day dawned and upon checking my email, as Louis told me to, I got the best news I could have possibly hoped for: They had a friend in the office at the border with Ecuador and he was going to sneak a Aduana form from the stack and fax it up with all the proper post-dates and stamps and everything. Excellent! The ship had also been pushed back a day so we had some extra time to sift through this. So with all of our ducks falling into line It brought me to last night and heavy, heavy drinking on account of the good news which blurred its way into 8:30 this morning.

I don't normally get hangovers so when I do it really surprises me and I promise my liver, kidneys, brain, stomach and asshole that I'll never drink again. Never. Dammit this morning hurt me in a really bad way. I knew I had work to do to get Kombi entered into the port and sign a bunch of papers but I figured I'm a robust 31 year old man that can handle just about anything. Then this, this fucking email began to make me consider otherwise -

"Dear Will,

We have no good news for you today. I am sorry. All people at Customs Cartagena wanted to help you but Customs at the border have not been cooperative.

There is not any chance to load your car without the Temporal Importation Permit issue at a border.

Hope you can choice the best decision.


Brgds,"

Yeah, exactly. Hungover as hell and receiving the last minute, worst news of all. There are times when you should just cut your losses, put your tail between your legs, admit that you've been beat, get on a plane, and go home. THIS WAS NOT ONE OF THOSE TIMES. It's got to be one of the most serious, grave, hilarious, painful, F'd up situations I've ever been in. I drove to the office of Louis and Sonya, sat down and had a cup of coffee, exchanged stares and glum comments then in a very strait forward manner I asked if it was possible for me to meet the head of Aduana for the city of Cartagena, by myself, no interpreters, no bullshit. They said it could be possible but that they had talked to him yesterday and he was less than responsive to helping a Gringo that caused his own problems. This is where it gets hilarious- Talk about making lemonade, I'm positive, absolutely positive that because I was so fucking hungover, smelling of booze, and clearly in physical pain that when I sat down with this dude at 9 am this morning and rattled off my shithouse of a situation in broke ass Spanish he actually ended up with a gleam in his eye. He stared at me for about a minute in total silence. We both just stared, maybe I blacked out, then he stood up went to the door, told his secretary a few things, she respond with a question, he said "Si", she looked at me for a second and then set about getting me my Aduana. It's impossible to convey via a blog the uniqueness of the human relationship. The human condition, our place, our time, what we do with it. But there are moments when it shows itself, clear as day (I'd like to say it slapped the hangover right off me but it didn't, I was hungover all damn day.)  You can't miss it and it's effortless to appreciate it.  Just own it, be with it, know it both in the biblical sense and the spiritural sense.  I sincerely love it. 

So that's it, I just had one of the best days of my life. I was devastatingly hungover till about an hour ago. I stood with Kombi and Sonya in the sun and offices and banks and the wildest chain of bullshit paper work in the history of mankind to ultimately leave Kombi in the port and booked on her ship. I should have waited to post this (I have one more inspection in the morning) but I have to share moments like these, days like this. IT IS GREAT TO BE ALIVE!!!!

I just finished my first beer. Cracked my second - Here's to life....

The Knock Out, Kinda like the Mallman song....

It's over, it's done.  Kombi vs. Andy ended yesterday.  The bout of the century, the fight to end all fights, Ali-Frazier's got nothin on this.  If it seems cryptic it should, it was, and it always will be.

I bought Kombi about 13 months ago with the idea that I would drive her till she died or back to Lima, whichever happened first.  Well over the first few months of that time I grew very fond of this lady and her curves and the way she put up a relentless, calculated battle to meander her way through round after round with the Andes.  So much so that I dedicated myself and my resources to returning to her to do it all over again.  Finish this deal soti-speak(Brent).  When I found her a month ago with flat tires, an inch of dust, and no insurance she still had a smile on her face, still had that fire in her loins.  The connection was real, the love palpable(Remember: I sleep inside of her every night, so yes, it's sexual).  It was just like old times, like I had driven her the day before.(Again, totally sexual)  Setting out from all things she and I knew as the comforts of Lima proper was so exciting that she lost her left rear wheel, but that was just the start.  We saw some old friends and some old beaches, but mostly we've explored the new and the interesting.  The whole of the 5,000 or so kilometers to Cartagena, Colombia.  All in all I would say fairly event free with some repairs both minor and major but those conducted with love so not the hassle one would assume, merely QT with Kombi. 

An accurate GPS would have calculated to the meter and the kilometer the distance we traveled both toward the sky and over the land but in this case it's not necessary.  No, I have a better gauge.  My gauge involves time, people, and inaccurate road maps.  Funny because the slower she wanted to go the more people I met, for once speed wasn't on my side.  Slower and slower, having an incredible knack for knowing when to break down and when to spin like a top.  She decided when and how I would meet some of the most amazing individuals a man can hope to, she made me meet four Brazilians that were lost in the Atacama desert of Chile and running out of fuel fast; they all spoke perfect English, they stopped to ask the Gringo for directions. 

If it seems like I'm rambling on it's because I am, we're here, we've done it.  Rolling into Cartagena, Colombia completes my route through South America.  In two days Kombi will be loaded onto a freight ship and cast off to Colon, Panama.  Effectively ending, forever, her years as a resident of South America.  The Rumble in the Jungle is over, Kombi has beaten Andy and all that lay in its wake on this oily, dust covered mat is a pile of friends, empty beers, and a shitty blog to document it all.  Ah the memories that are South America, I know I'll be back but Kombi won't.  On the 26th or 27th of December we'll embark on the second leg of this trip to surf our sweet asses back to the good ol' US of A. 

Leg one is complete, leg two has a lot of questions and kilometers.  Different, new questions that Kombi nor I have ever answered.  Different, new kilometers that Kombi nor I have ever driven.  The stoke is high, the work has been done to prepare us for the road ahead, and I have time to kill in Cartagena......  beers anyone?

BuenAVENTURA

Where do I start really. Well I met Louis tonight where I stopped for dinner. Stopped just before nightfall in the center of Colombia where I once again feel safe. Far away from all the things that were the last two days of life. Man where to begin... Well it's far too often if not all of the time, seriously every single person you ask, that you're told a city is dangerous and you shouldn't go there. Start with our state department and their bullshit excuses for travel advisories and safety suggestions and end with every person in S. America telling you that if you go to the next town over you'll get killed. Sometimes even the next block is deadly, it's fucked, it's stupid, it's paranoia and fear at its worst. So when we were told to go Buenaventura for a boat to Panama and only a couple of people tried to warn us we thought we were gold. Easy breezy, typical shit right? The whole thing, strait from the start, was F'd. Approaching the docks and having 6-10 jacked dudes surround Kombi, stroking knives, asking what "what happened to you" means in Spanish. All the while trying to sort out transportation on boats north manned by these very same cats. Three times over we were swarmed and at least two of those it seemed some really bad shit was happening if we didn't get out of there fast. We did get out of there fast and the next morning out of Buenaventura fast. Shit man that could've gone so wrong so many ways, it tried to but we were able to see it coming and split. To close in my book, but nothing really compared to what I learned about the route to and from that city itself. The road to Buenaventura is a hot spot for FARC attacks and activity. apparently the whole region is teeming with them and it really is random when and where they strike but the military presence all along the route along with armored vehicles, automatic weapons, and the like really makes one understand that this country is at war. It's real and it's active, hundreds of soldiers at the ready to protect me, Kael, and everyone else trying to get through that shit-show of a road. All in all we got out of there burning the whole of two days in the process, enduring the craziest traffic jam of my life, and leaving me with a bunch of content that I'm not able to put into a post worth shit.  Whether he knew it or not, Louis brought me back to the reality of the trip and the whole reason I'm doing it.  Thanks man.

I'm terrible at this, but something about the past four days has me very thankful that I have such amazing, thoughtful friends and family back home. It also gives me the feeling of being very, very alive.  I love you guys, talk to and see you soon. 
William

Kombi needed a rest

I have some time to kill here in Palmira, Colombia.  Kombi´s alternator shit the bed yesterday so it´s time to just cool my jets for a day whilst I wait for parts to fix her.  No worries.  When she has a problem it´s just like any other small domestic dispute: it just takes time and beer.  So hopefully I can get her all put back together this afternoon and keep heading north.  My arrival date at Cartagena will be the 16th at best.  Not good timing for trying to find a boat to Panama.  Dammit we´ll see....  Cheers folks, to Kombi, Colombia, Time, and Beer!  Gotta love this shit---