Across Honduras: San Pedro Sula to Danli

Honduras is mountainous. I knew that but the tendency is to think little countries have little mountains. . . oops. I rode out of San Pedro Sula in the late morning after finishing up a post anticipating a straight forward 80 km to Lago Yojoa and settling into a nice evening microbrew at the D& D Brewery. I was parched just considering a real craft beer. Honduras' intimate tie to the United States is pretty obvious for they are blessed with every US chain store/restaurant you can name from Pizza Hut to Home Depot. Then came industrial park after industrial park living up to SPS' motto “the industrial city.” The road was in good shape with a large shoulder of varying quality and Hondurans are pretty good drivers, though they do love their horns. I swear every vehicle honks at me, not a malicious “get off the road” honk but “hey, I see you” honk, honk. At first it was cute, then annoying, then I ignored it, unless it sounded really close.
San Pedro Sula is a little higher than sea level but Lago Yojoa is 2000 feet above sea level so I knew there was going to be climbing somewhere. The road just rolled along not gaining much elevation under a blazing tropical sun until afternoon when I seemed to gain all 2000 feet at once. I drank the volume of Lago Yojoa but didn't piss a drop, though each time renewing a profuse sweat. The steep lush mountain sides preside over valleys either under cultivation or cattle grazing. I reached the edge of the lake by early evening and considered skipping the extra distance around the lake to D & D Brewery but convinced by a couple police officers and a sign that said only 14km I continued the 20+km to Mochito. After 110+km I pulled into the brewery/hotel on a rough dirt lane in the dark and was not disappointed. The Pale Ale was excellent. I drank five and chatted with an ex-pat Brit with a long white beard in a single braid who had not been home in 30 years after tramping and working around the globe. Malcolm was the resident naturalist who had led a wildly eclectic life from India to France to Turkey to Central America. He was erudite and had a perspective on the world that only comes from living in it and I was fascinated as he told stories of living with gypsies in Turkey to itinerant labor in France. It is rare to meet someone that willingly embraces the ephemeral nature of life. Malcolm consequently has the comfort to go places and do things only dreamed by most, myself included. I slept well to the din of torrential rain on a tin roof.Drawn by the lake and immense tropical forest striding down mountains to the shore, I almost stayed but I felt strong and had the yen to move. I stopped by the lake and ate a whole fried Tilapia on the way out and contemplated the replacement of Bass by Tilapia. Lago Yojoa is Honduras' largest natural lake, 360 feet deep, and a re-known bass fishery once thought to hold a potential world record. But excessive Tilapia farming is changing the lake ecology and affecting everything from snails to eagles to Bass. I considered the history of our own fisheries that are now largely non-native species after we wiped out most native populations before the turn of the 20th century. Tilapia are native to Africa and the Middle East where they have been farmed since the time of the pharaohs.
The day was long and hot with four to five hours of climbing before descending into the once colonial capitol of Honduras, Comayagua. I checked into a hotel at dark and began a feverish sleep that would last the next 24 hours. I roused briefly one morning to walk around the quaint colonial city in search of decent coffee and ATM before going back to bed. The Comayagua cathedral is home to the second oldest functioning clock in the world that was a gift of Phillip II in the 1600's though the clock dates from the mid-1400's. I was given a tour of the bell tower and mechanisms that connect the clock to the bells. The beginning of time as we know it was alone worth the trip to Comayagua. Other than that I did little in Comayagua except try to get better, initially to sick to write or even read. wires run to the bells in the tower the cathedrals reflection in mosaic on the central plaza

After four nights I was well enough to ride and left town past t he US military base (now under a Honduran flag) that was key to our ignominious history of the 1980's in Central America from El Salvador to Nicaragua and it made me wonder what we are up to now . . . reminded me of a bumper sticker from the 1980's - “ it is midnight, do you know where your US Marines are”? I resumed climbing for a blazing hot 100km day that included crossing the Continental Divide before beginning my final descent of the day into Tegucigalpa, a city of 1.2 million and capitol of Honduras. I flew into the city off the mountains easily going as fast or faster than the congested three to four lanes of traffic weaving around buses and cabs. Houses seem to tumble over each other as they scramble over hillsides and mountain ridges in a two or three story organic mass rising up from the bowl of the city. I check into a hotel once again to exhausted to write before getting up to begin again.


After the best complimentary breakfast of my trip I climb my way out of Tegucigalpa towards Danli, my last stop before the Nicaraguan border. I climb some more pine covered mountains that remind me of Colorado and pass through a beautiful farming valley that is home to Honduras' world famous agricultural school, founded by the president of the United Fruit Company. I am getting better with the heat and humidity stopping often for food and drink. My lunch stop provided me with a front row seat to the butchering of a steer.







I ran out of daylight and finished up the last hour of riding in the dark before rolling into the charming agricultural community of Danli, home to the Honduran tobacco industry, after 100+km. I am comfortable here so I decided to spend the day and strap on the feed bag. Tomorrow I will be in Nicaragua.