November 21 - 24, 2002: La Frontera y malpavimiento! - San Jose

Odometer: 15,700

We pretty muched blitzed through Nicarauga with the notion that we are way behind our non-existent schedule and we will be coming back through on our way north. Just two days of riding and we are at La Frontera, Costa Rica.

To this point, border crossing had been only relatively painful. Usually it takes around 1.5 hours as we have to deal with customs for our motorcycles. Checking out of Nicarauga, no problemo. Unless you take into consideration that they want U.S. dollars more then they want their own money. To check out it cost $1 and some change in the national coin. Ok, here's a tenner. Sorry, no change. Huh?! I mean if you are demanding a single dollar bill from everybody checking out of the country, you must have nine dollars to hand back to me!

Nope. But there are helpful change makers willing to hand me $9.50 for my $10! Bastards!

Oh well. On to Costa Rica. A nightmare crossing with customs in Central America.

We've come to realize now that ALL border crossings require the aid of a Tramitadore or, someone who knows how the racket, er system works at the borders. And not just gringos need this assistance. Most of the borders are so un-systematic in the way they are structured that without a tramitadore to help you through, you would easily spend an entire day figuring it all out. For backpackers and people on foot, there is no problem. You just stamp out of one country and stamp into the next and your done. Vehicles require special harrassment.

Anyway, we hired a couple of guys to help us out. First dealing with the stamping process and then buying mandatory liablitiy insurance ($11) and then getting the bikes through customs (aduanas). Hey, only $30 and 1.5 hours later and we can no go on down to the police barracks to have the bikes inspected. Another half-hour but no money this time (thank God).

And here is where we learned the major difference of economies between Nicaragua and Costa Rica. In Nica, our tramitadore was elated that we gave him roughly $2. When the CR guys asked for $10 each, Hugh exclaimed, "you're friggin high"! LOL!. We gave them $10 between them, much to their dissatisfaction. Tough-shit boys. Go shake somebody else down.

So, finally we are on our way with only two police checks on the road. And this is where I complain about the roads.

Costa Rica is the richest country in all of CentroAmerica but their roads are arguably the WORST! The combination of twisty mountain roads and truckers dabbed together with potholes every 20yards makes for some damned slow going. And the potholes are enormous. I think the biggest one I (luckily) avoided was about 6 feet in diameter and about 8 inches deep. Scary stuff when you can finally get passed a truck and start cruising.

We will be coming back to Costa Rica again and that's a good thing because from what I can see, it is phenomenal. It is hard to describe a view of mountain ranges with big puffy clouds just laying down on top of them. It will be nice to get some pics on our return.

We finally made it into San Jose around 5pm and spent the next 1.5 hours looking for a specific hotel that turned out to be a toilet. It's cheaper if you don't mind spending your evening in a toilet but I do and therefore insisted we stay at a nearby Best Western. Good call too as it had secure parking and was fairly comfy.

We stayed a couple of evenings in San Jose as I was feeling ill (high-altitude mixed with a cold) and Hugh was having a good time on the town. On the day we left, we got some advice from a local to cross a mountain range at San Isidore and head directly towards the beaches. There is a road there that runs the coastline right to the Panamanian border and, get this it is without potholes. Furthermore, he promised it would save us roughly 3 hours of travel time. He was right.

What he didn't tell us was that it is friggin' cold in those mountains. Hugh and I travelled roughly 1.5 hours going up and down in the rain clouds in about 42 degree weather and no heated clothing, and no place to pull off and warm up or put it on....brrrrr. The altitude change coming off the range was oh so welcomed as the temps rose, but it really f-d up my ears. At our first rest stop at a side road restaruant I noted immediately after removing my earplugs that it wouldn't have made a difference had I not had them in at all. The higher pressure and my cold were messing with my ears.

I finally got this sorted out at a clinic in Panama City (think about my description of the local motorcycle mechanic here...boo!) with medications, but what fun trying to speak with the Panamanian border folks. Yes we made it to the border with Panama with daylight and I am happy to report it took less than 1 hour to cross with the help of a tramitadore. Only, the PanAm border was not at all hard to figure out and the customs people were very helpful.

It's a different world down here.

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