Southern Exposure

Saturday, December 27

We woke up early for our border crossing into Honduras. After reading other riders’ reports we were prepared for the worst and decided to ride through Honduras as fast as possible and cross into Nicaragua the same day. We said final good byes to Mario D. at the bridge and rode for another couple of hours to get to the border.

As always, the “helpers” could spot us from afar, and as soon as we pulled up they swarmed around us offering help. We checked out of El Salvador trying to resist their assistance. But as soon as we got to the point of entry into Honduras we knew there was no way we could navigate the red tape without their help, so Matt recruited two young guys who seemed to work as a team. We parked our bikes amongst numerous trucks, and while I was watching the bikes, Matt was doing the usual border hassle.

First, the guys agreed to help for $3 a bike. Needless to say their fee tripled by the time we were done, though they claimed it wasn’t going into their pocket but to bribe the officials to speed up the process. After an hour and a half Matt came back and said that we were half way through and needed to pay our fees but the bank was closed for lunch and would reopen in half an hour. One of our helpers came back saying the bank was closed for the weekend and will only reopen on Monday, so we could either stick around for two days at the border (yeah, right!) or he could arrange for us to pay directly to the official for an extra charge. I don’t even want to go into describing all the “fees” and bribes we had to pay, totaling about $70 a bike, for which by the way we received an official receipt with a stamp from the officer. We felt totally ripped off and unwelcomed and wanted to get out of Honduras as soon as possible, and not spend another penny in that corrupt country.

It took about two hours of uneventful but pretty riding through hilly Honduras countryside. A few kilometers before the border we came up to a check point. The police guy first made a sign with his hands to pass through (or so we thought) and then suddenly started signaling for us to stop. I didn’t have enough time to react and with almost non existing rear breaks on the KLR I could not stop in time and dropped the bike between Matt and the police guy. I was struggling to pick up the bike and the police guy (I will call him Jerk from here on) showing his true nature would not even move to help me. I yelled at the other policeman asking for help, which I received.

The Jerk asked us to park on the road shoulder, took our documents, and told us that we owed $200 in fines because I touched his sissy leg with my motorcycle or I could get arrested. We had only small change on us, the rest of the money was in high dollar bills tucked away in our bags. I knew that we could definitely bargain down and was not particularly scared. I think I was more angry and was showing it too. Matt was doing the bargaining. We open our wallets in front of him spilling all the change we had on us ($8 maximum). The Jerk laughed at us and said we better come up with the money or his military buddy who at that moment pulled up in a car will take us to jail. However, at that point he did come down to $100. I was speaking loudly to Matt, playing it up a bit, saying that since we don’t have any more money they can arrest me if they want.

Matt went for another bargaining trial with the Jerk, while his mate was sweet talking to me, asking if he can go on a motorcycle ride with me instead of Matt. I don’t know why he was joking around because my face was certainly as sour as a lemon and I had no desire to talk to him about anything.

Matt again spilled all our change money in front of the Jerk plus a few extra coins we found on our pockets, telling him we looked everywhere and have no more money on us. The Jerk suggested that we can give him the iPod instead, or sunglasses. Matt refused, playing dumb, showing him his earplugs, and after some more deliberation, the asshole took the $8, gave us our papers, and let us go, forbidding us to tell anyone about the encounter. He even made Matt shake his hand and said “amigos”. Unreal.

We rode away and 20 minutes later were out of Honduras. I was very proud of us for not letting those crooks take advantage of us. In fact, we played THEM in a way. At the border crossing we saw a real price list of fees for entering Honduras and of course they were half of what we had to “officially” pay.

We also talked to the Mexican guys who were stopped at the check point by the same thugs and they were fined $10 for not having a jack in their car! We read Ross’ reports of his similar ordeals with four check points in Honduras, and all I can say, Honduras and its corrupt thief-cops can kiss my ass! I am never going back there again! If you don’t mind the language (warning), I recommend reading Ross’ account of his 4 stops in one day.

It was 5 pm by the time we got through the Nicaragua border. We rode for an hour in the dark to Somoto and were able to find a decent hotel for the night, which had four cute resident cats, always a nice touch as far as we are concerned.