The road chose me

I’ve driven only a few kilometers into Honduras when I see some military guys stand up from the shade of a tree and wave me down, obviously waiting for a tourist to come along. I initially stop in the middle of the road again, but they are very forceful about having me move onto the shoulder, so I obey. The youngest of the three, who can’t be more than 17 comes over to the window and goes through the usual routine. First he gets my (copied) license then starts demanding a fire extinguisher and triangle. I immediately produce the fire extinguisher, but make him work really hard to earn my understanding of triangle, “triangular” in Spanish. I say “no entiendo” so many times even I’m sick of hearing it while he goes off on a big tale about how a triangle is used in the event of a flat tire, while kicking one to emphasize his point. I immediately light up and happily tell him in a horrible accent that I have 5 tires, grinning madly while pointing to the spare on the back.

I really am kind of having fun now and the kid knows that he has no chance at all to tell me what he wants. Finally he resorts to blatantly asking me for money, begging for it. He’s so young for a split second I feel like giving it to him, but still continue with my not understanding bit. Eventually he waves me on and in my mirror I see his buddies give him a hard time when he returns empty handed.

The Jeep reading the rules of Honduras

Driving across Honduras was by no means in my plans from the start, though lately it has just felt like the right thing to do. All the books I have read, and the travelers I have spoken to basically say the only reason to go to Honduras is the North Coast, which is only worthwhile if you want to pay to get out in to the Bay Islands. I thought about driving through the heart of the country to check it out, but my books said all of the towns are unsafe after dark and it would have meant a lot of back-tracking. I think it’s a bit of a failure to drive across a country in one go, without even getting out once or meeting a single person.
So be it.

This military bribery routine is repeated twice more, in more or less similar circumstances and always with the same outcome of me being waved through with all my money in my pocket. One guy tries to work the angle of me not having a number plate on the front of the Jeep, another wants to know if I have a jack. One of the stops has more of an official air about it and the guy very politely asks to see all my documentation, asks a few quick questions about my origin and destination and waves me through in less than 30 seconds. I gather this is the “authorized” checkpoint and the others are just military guys doing what they want. It’s extremely hot, dry & dusty here reminding me a lot of Mexico and the thermometer hanging in the Jeep holds at 40 °C (100 °F) for the entire day.

I turn off the main highway, aiming for the border crossing at El Espino and am immediately happy about my decision. The Pan American Highway here is excellent and has almost zero traffic, the convoy of enormous trucks having continued on to the much busier border crossing at Gausaule. The road immediately begins to climb and for 45 minutes I drive up a very impressive windy mountain road, without a single military checkpoint in sight. I thoroughly enjoy this part of Honduras, and briefly think about spending a night somewhere, though no hotels present themselves.

The beautiful mountains of Honduras

I roll up to the Nicaraguan border about 2 hours after I entered Honduras and am so surprised by what I find I have to ask someone if this is the actual border. It’s very clean and quiet and not a single person hassles me. I’m really happy I came up to this border, probably the nicest I have seen yet.

Back towards Honduras at the El Espino border to Nicaragua

Here I go, aiming for country number three in a single day…

-Dan

It’s finally time to leave The Surfers Inn at Playa El Sunzal, and even the Jeep is reluctant to move on – she has a flat battery from all the laptop charging I’ve been doing without starting the engine. A couple of the guys give me a push and we move off with no problems.

I drive way up into the mountains in El Salvador to the town of Perquin, where the government opposition force, the FMLN had their headquarters. The town itself is not much to look at, and with the help of an American in the peace core I manage to find a beautiful campsite on the side of the Rio Sapo, which has amazing swimming beaches and rock pools.

The beautiful Rio Sapo

I’m up early the next morning anticipating a big day of travel – just how big it would turn out to be I have no idea. I stop for gas before the Honduran border and the attendants love the map on the hood and we strike up a great conversation. I’ve heard all sorts of horror stories about the military trying to bribe tourists in Honduras, including Rupert who ended up in handcuffs. The guys here tell me the two most common scams are asking you if you have a fire extinguisher and a safety triangle to put on the road in case of an emergency. When you fail to produce them they bribe some money out of you on the threat of arresting you or impounding your vehicle. The gas station immediately before the border sells both and for $16 USD I splash out and purchase them in the hope of avoiding some conflict throughout the day. I actually wanted a fire extinguisher from day one, so it’s about time I got one and the triangle is kind of fun to play with for about 3 seconds.

Camping in the mountains of El Salvador, by the Rio Sapo

Even at the gas station guys are trying to “assist” me with the crossing, saying it will take hours without their help and only 20 minutes with. I repeat “no thanks” about a hundred times. Driving up to the El Amatillo border I pass a very long ling of trucks waiting for inspection and pull over at the little shack to cancel my El Salvadorian Jeep paperwork. I need a copy of a form and as usual, an enterprising person has set up a stand with a photocopier just where it’s needed. The guy seems pretty proud of being able to charge the exorbitant fee of 5 cents a copy.

Moving along I arrive at the actual border, where I park and start the process. For unknown reasons the immigration guy spends quite a while typing in my info to the computer and clicking around just so I can leave El Sal. Then a guy wearing a uniform and with ID says I have to pay $3 USD to enter Honduras and he’ll give me a semi-official looking receipt. I don’t really believe him, thinking that the CA-4 stamp in my passport gives me free travel between Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua. Knowing I’m going to spend most of the day arguing with people trying to take my money and that fact that it’s only $3 makes me pay it so I can move on.

I leave El Sal no problems, drive over a bridge and find myself in a dry, dusty, shady-looking town that is Honduras. Everyone says immigration is immediately on my right, which I don’t see and eventually circle back around and get directions into an unsigned plain white office building. Realizing I’ll have to spend a long time inside away from the Jeep I walk straight over to the security guard with the pump-action shotgun and ask him to keep an eye on things for some cash, to which he happily agrees.

The paperwork trail begins and I almost fall over when the guy asks for the receipt for the $3 I paid earlier – apparently that thing was legit and I really was supposed to pay it. I’m glad I didn’t argue for too long.
Before all is said and done, the following papers are shuffled.

• 3 copies of my passport main photo page
• 3 copies of the registration for the Jeep
• 3 copies of my drivers license
• 3 copies of receipt number one that I pay 135 Lempiras ($7 USD) at the bank
• 3 copies of receipt number two that I pay 500.72 Lempiras ($26 USD) at the bank
• 3 more copies of my passport, with a new stamp and the $3 USD receipt from earlier

A very brief inspection of the Jeep follows, I receive a very official-looking piece of paper and I’m free to move along, which I do eagerly.

Literally a hundred meters down the road three military guys wave me down, which is not unusual this close to the border. I intentionally stop in the driving lane, don’t kill the engine and don’t get out. In the first three seconds the guy wants my license and once he has it demands to see my fire extinguisher. I smugly produce it, still in it’s box and with price sticker clearly visible. Not to be deterred he quickly asks for my triangle, which I once again get out, still in it’s box, price sticker front and centre. He quickly pulls it out and is very happy to announce that I in fact need two of them, and one is not good enough. I decide to play another card and start replying to everything with “No entiendo” (I don’t understand) He goes on a rambling tale for five minutes about how I must have two triangles and I’ll have to goto the nearby bank to get money to give to him for the fine. I interject every sentence or two with more “No entiendo” and my best blank-trying-hard-to-understand look.

He starts to get frustrated and walks off with my license to consult his cohorts. He returns and asks if it’s a copy, saying he needs the original, to which I again reply many times with “No entiendo”, all the while smiling and trying my absolute best to understand. The three of them inspect my license very carefully and can clearly tell it’s a copy, but don’t seem to be able to make me understand that A truck is now blocking the only other lane, so we have a lot of traffic backing up behind us, which is too much for them so they give me back the copy of my license and don’t look at me again as they eagerly move to the next customer.

Another couple of hundred meters down the road I’m stopped again by a friendly guy who wants to see my shiny new paperwork for the Jeep. He needs a copy for his records, which I don’t have. I have three copies of the receipts and many more of all my other documents, but not a copy of the one he needs. I have no choice but to turn around, get stuck in the traffic trying to leave Honduras, get another couple of copies made and come back. As I drive past my military friends I intentionally don’t look at them and have no idea if they tried to wave me down or not.

I hand over the new copy and the guy waves me through, finally free to enter Honduras…

-Dan