Antigua to Guatermala City to Tapachula to Puerto Escondito, Mexico - 26 hours of bus travel. Greeted with the beginning of a new 7ft swell building to 10ft in the next 2 days. Offshore winds, Zigatella Beach right on our doorstep, burritos and 1 litre Corona longnecks. Was 26 hours of straight travel worth it? Shit yeah.
Following a building swell north to El Salvador, we had a night in Managua before getting the 5am bus. Contrary to what Lonely Planet told us, Barrio Martha Quezada - the area around the bus terminal was a full on ghetto. I’d reserved us a night at a reputable hostel, only to have a street hustler direct us into his building telling us it was the same place. Out of pure laziness, even though we were pretty sketch on the place and the shady characters around it, we decided to stay the night - would allow us to get on the beers earlier.
By chance we stumbled upon a German bar on some random street, greeted by owner ‘David’. Telling us he only opens the doors when he feels like it, we followed him into his empty bar. Clearly drunk by his slurring and decision to wear Ray-Bans inside the dark room, he cracked open 4 Tonas and slid them across the bar. Proud of the fact his fridge was set at -7 degrees C, we got down to storytime. Our travel stories, his impressions of our personalities on face value, suicidal surfers, conspiracies of the world, his story (fighting for a rebel army, robbing banks, opening bars, his Nica family) and other general crap. After a whole heap of beers, dinner at a restaurant around the corner, then more beers at ‘David’, the man himself vanished into the darkness - his ex-wife who was looking after the bar had no idea where he was.
Next morning at 4am, we were stoked to awaken unharmed with all our gear untouched. For an 8 hour travel day including border crossings though Honduras and El Salvador, everything went relatively smooth. Eventually touching down in tiny coastal village Las Flores, we were all very impressed to see the place was sporting an epic right point break. Getting a place 50m to the water and next door Adam and Nick - 2 Americans we met in Popoyo, a fiesta was in order to celebrate new waves ahead. Who would have thought that beer, rum and a tazer gun could prove so much fun.
A pretty ordinary days travel on our way back to Popoyo had us ready to lose it. Add:
- 1 x non-air-conditioned mini bus to Managua sitting next to a funky smelling old lady
- 25 x Nica touts mobbing us at the bus station as they tried to drag us onto different buses to Rivas
- 1 x fuckwit taxi driver who spent the trip from Rivas to Popoyo drinking longnecks getting progressively shit. Halfway to Popoyo and in the pouring rain, Senor fuckstain realises his poor excuse for a taxi can’t cross water rushing across the road. We ended up flagging down a 4WD to take us the remaining 30km, but not before Shitbrick demands twice the agreed amount, going loco and trying to drive off with our bags until we paid him. Close to throwing a punch, we paid the rat telling not to worry about getting any business from Popoyo for a while.
The only plus to this day was getting treated to hotdoggs from the Rivas hotdog lady. So meticulous in the development, its like watching pieces of art take form. And damn did they taste good.
We’ve done well picking the days to travel. As we were busing to David, again the rain was having its way with Panama. Getting into David we stayed the night at The Purple House - recommended by Lonely Planet, but not me. The chick who runs this place is a full on nutter, has a fetish with the colour purple and her shit dog “Cutsie”. Every inch of the place had a sign on it outlining what you can’t do, it felt like I was intruding in a special learning classroom, not a backpackers hostel. I was scared for Taylor - he was wearing a purple hat. I could picture him waking up in the morning in shackles, with this chick throwing a bucket of water on his face. All in all, stay somewhere else.
Rising early we hopped on a 4 hour bus to Almirante, then a water taxi to Bocas for what would be a unique visit to the island...
Getting 10 of us to Santa Catalina was a solid mission, but with the cyclonic conditions, it was by far the best day to travel. From Panama you need to get the bus from the Albrook terminal to Sona, then Sona to Sta Catalina. All up the trip is about 7 hours.
The aircon was cold as hell on the bus, so our Mageiver influence had us remove the curtains for warmth as make shift blankets. Getting to Sona we, ran into another Aussie Dan, who jumped on board the crew Sta Catalina. Apart from a connecting bus and a corner store, there isn’t anything in Sona.
We bunked down at local surfer Rollo’s cabins for $10 each, which was a cool little place. A few seppo girls at Rollo’s were keen for a bit of a party, so who were we to deny. Feeling as through the massive bus trip was an accomplishment, we treated ourselves to whole fried fish and chips for $3 each and 121 $0.70 beers.
