19th August
With the swell fading it was time to move on. I packed my kit, ate some porridge and left Iguana Verde with a crowd of hungover locals waving me off.
I was anxious about the border crossing after my last attempt so was on the road early. My journey to the border took less than two hours and was easy going, I flew along the smooth tarmac roads weaving past lorries and loving my bike. As I got close to the border I hit a huge trail of lorries parked up waiting to get to the front of the line... I cruised past maybe a hundred trucks before arriving at the border control area where I was immediately jumped by four guys with official badges hanging around their necks. "This way, this way, hey, hey... hey, this way amigo, park here, here, here", I hadn't even put my feet down and they were all shouting at me that I needed exit tax, then immigration, then copias then customs... "oh and my friend has Cordobas, cambiar for dollars change for you, good rate... good rate". I hate this part.
I had been told that border 'coyotes' offered to help you jump the hoops and get through quicker for a few bucks but you shouldn't need them, it's easy enough. From my previous experience I had only seen kids working the tourists at the borders so when these middle aged men with official badges wearing shirts and trousers started hollering at me I took them to be officials. They asked for my passport and papers for the bike but were being really pushy and I had to tell them to back off... I handed my passport to a guy called Rudolpho who told me to follow him and we went to a small hut to pay the $3 exit tax in exchange for a receipt which I needed to present to immigration. We then went to the copy hut and got two copies of my passport and two copies of the permit granted for temporary import of the bike to Costa Rica... at this point I still had an entourage of four guys and was being constantly approached by money changers and realised that these were definitely not border officials but coyotes and I was already embroiled in their process... I told them all to piss off and that I would do it myself which worked for all but Rudolpho who was persistent and had my papers in his hand... "Aduanas, now amigo Aduanas, I help, I help"... I asked him how much he wanted for this kind service and he said "No mucho, no mucho"... I told him to give me a price or go, I don't have much money and would not be paying him... "no problema amigo, no problema"...
Rudolpho then led me across the road and over to the well hidden customs office where I joined a small que and presented my papers to an official behind the desk. With some head scratching he figured it out, asked for $7, then cancelled my permit and waved me on my way.
Rudolpho lead me out the office and told me I just needed to go to immigration and I was done. 'Great' I said, 'thanks'... and walked back to my bike quite happy but with Rudolpho still hanging by my side. At the bike he sticks his hand out and says "For me, ten dollars" aha... now he tells me his price... $10 for walking me between two buildings... I tell him that's too much I would pay $5 and no more. He starts arguing and his friends start coming over and they all chip in... "mister we watch your bike, seguro, seguro"... I had used all my Costa Rican currency and the smallest thing I had was a $10 note. Funnily enough Rudolpho didn't have any change and suggested I should just give him the $10! After 5mins of arguing with these four guys I was getting pissed and walked over to a different money changer and asked for $60 in Nicaraguan Cordobas.... what was his rate? I then played him off against the first changer and got him up to C$25 - $1 and using my change gave Rudolpho just short of $7 which the smallest note I had... feeling somewhat scammed but educated, I hit the immigration office who took another $2 or $3 and within an hour I had got all my documents in order to leave CR!
There was about one hundred meters of peace as I rode into the Nicaraguan side of the frontera and then the whistles started again and people start running up to you offering to get you through quick... I told em all to piss off I was fine.
I was directed into a set of cones where three guys in hazmat suits and respirators stood with back packs and hoses attached... I grabbed the food out of my saddlebags and watched as they sprayed down my bike with some type of pesticide. They didn't worry about my boots or clothes just my bike??? For this I had to pay a lady in a hut $7 in exchange for a certificate that I needed to give to customs... from there I rode another 500m to a big plaza / bus station and found the immigration building... they charged me $2 to enter the building, then I had to pay $7 to get my stamp in my passport... I then had to buy insurance and tax which was $12 & $4 respectively... then I had to get the bike inspected by a customs official... then go to the customs office and get mine and thr bikes details entered on to their system and a certificate produced... and then I had to find one of two policemen and get him to check the bike and stamp my paper work... it took 15mins to find the guy and he didn't even look at the bike! None of the buildings or offices have signs and the system is chaos but after about an hour and a half I had got everything done and rolled out through the last police check point and on to Nicaraguan soil!!! All done in 2:30hrs much better than the last time!!
Entering Nicaragua was awesome... two volcanoes, Isla Ometepe, wind turbines bending in the wind, smooth tarmac and almost no traffic. At La Virgin I turned left and 45mins later I arrived at San Juan Del Sur!
I took a trip north to check the surf at Playa Maderas which was small and busy. There was however a kool beach front setup with 3 small bars/huts and a hostel with room for camping. Maderas had a good vibe to it but I decided to check the South beaches before signing up so turned round to rode back to San Juan. On the way out of playa Maderas the road is bumpy as hell and on a steep, steep hill. Half way up was a brand new Toyota stuck with wheels spinning hopelessly and crabbing sideways on the steep rocky mud... I thought about offering a tow but just beaned all the way up skimming along on the bike. By some hilarious act of karma the bike ran out of fuel spluttering to a stand still on the side of a small dirt road in the middle of nowhere. After a short panic that the bike was dead I flicked on the reserve and rode into town to fill up.
From San Juan, I went South to Playa Hermosa which was closed for the filming if american tv show 'Survivor'.... I carried on South to Playa Del Coco and found a hotel with a bunker on the beach for $10. As I unloaded the bike I had to stop, leave all my stuff on the ground, run to the beach and watch one of the most amazing sunsets I have ever seen. Welcome to Nicaragua!!!!
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