February 7th – February 11th

My time in Honduras was not long. Overlanding in your own car has very different characteristics to backpacking. In short, you’re much more exposed being in a car than just with your backpack where your only valuable possessions are passport and credit card and the rest is expendable. There are more things that can go wrong and there are more people that want to take advantage of you – especially in a car that stands out on the Central American highways as mine does. For these reasons, I opted to bypass El Salvador (known to me as a country with one of the highest murder rates in the world) and I chose to keep my time in Honduras to a minimum and rush towards the relative safety and beauty of Costa Rica.

Copan:

The border into Honduras was hilariously inefficient. There were so many photocopies, small payments, money changing, stamps, forms, conversations, stops at different buildings, confusion and waiting. But my temperament in dealing with the border was good and the more convoluted the process got, the more comical I found it. Hadyn, Dajana and Ruth sat on the pavement while I rushed back and forth passed them visiting the various people and offices that touched the temporary import permit process. I amused myself and my travel companions by buying a beer every time I went to make more photocopies (which happened a few times).

After perhaps three hours of messing about, we crossed into the country and made our way to Copan. The town is known for its ruins but after so many already and the highlight of Tikal a few days earlier, there was no way we wanted to see more. With low expectations for our first city in Honduras, we checked into a hostel, withdrew some Honduran currency and set about finding a place for dinner. It proved to be a memorable evening.

The Lonely Planet was surprisingly sparse on recommendations for Copan but at the top of the list was a German brew house. Between Hadyn and my fondness for beer and the fact that we were traveling with two German girls, it seemed an obvious choice. When we walked in, it was empty save for the owner and one of his friends. As we sat ourselves down and identified half our group as German, things became immediately lively. Conversation bounced chaotically between Spanish, German and English. Metallica played non-stop in the background. We ate traditional German dishes (brats, sauerkraut and other stodgy delicacies) and steins of beer brewed in-house by the German owner. Eventually a very eccentric Canadian dressed head-to-toe in over the top Canadian attire came through and amused us with his stories. He handed us ‘gift vouchers’ for free hugs and showed us videos of him hugging strangers. Eventually an interesting couple from Sea Shepard joined us and added to the complex mix of backgrounds. The night was surreal and hilarious. It’s really hard to explain how random it all was but I couldn’t wipe a dumb grin off my face the whole night – it was one of those memorable and random evenings that makes you happy to be alive. The note in my journal from that day read “best day ever. So fun”.

One of the small buildings on the Honduras side of the border where they took payments for the car’s import permit

It was hot as hell and I was running between buildings sorting out various parts of the car import process. This was one of my stops. The guy didn’t have change but I didn’t care, I just wanted to cross into Honduras

I realise that when I take photos of the car, it’s because I love it and we’re getting along well. There was a period where I didn’t take many photos of it when it was giving me lots of troubles but by this point, those troubles seem largely behind … — I realise that when I take photos of the car, it’s because I love it and we’re getting along well. There was a period where I didn’t take many photos of it when it was giving me lots of troubles but by this point, those troubles seem largely behind me

The German brew house with Dajana, Ruth and Hadyn

This guy was Canadian AF. His laptop is out because he wanted to show us a YouTube video of him hugging strangers which is apparently his thing. He gave us vouchers for free hugs. I think of our group, I was the only one that took him up on the offer

Dajana from Germany and I. The two of us travelled together for a few weeks in total through Guatemala, Honduras and Nicaragua

I loved this old Jeep on the outskirts of Copan

Sambo Creek:

With only a few days to go, Hadyn and I figured we’d take advantage of the cheap prices of Honduras to do some fishing. We said goodbye to Ruth and Dajana and made our way towards the north (Caribbean) coast. Curiously, the roads were excellent and the drive there relatively simple and without anything of note (apart from at one stage getting stuck behind a truck full of dead horses).

We arrived at Helens, a quite hotel by the water in Sambo Creek. There were few people there when we arrived after dark. I put my Spanish skills to the test and arranged for a fishing charter the next day via one of the friends of the hotel owner. It was clumsy but I achieved the desired result and made the arrangements for the following morning.

Early the next day, a ponga (long open-top fishing boat with outboard at the back) arrived on the beach in front of the hotel to pick us up. The crew were all native Garifuna, the indigenous people of the area. We had a big crew of four people to look after the two of us which made me think it was a good way for them to get out on the water to do some fishing on the dime of some gringos (which was fine by us). We drank local rum at 7am for luck, dropped our handlines (no rods) and cruised from spot to spot between Sambo Creek and Cayos Cochinos. The crew picked up a few fish but Hadyn and I caught nothing. Was still memorable and a fun day despite the lack of fish.

The Garifuna village where the boat dropped us was confronting in how simple it was – a couple places to eat, buy food, a barber, a dance hall and a lot of structurally questionable houses. We sheltered from the rain in a local ‘pub’, literally a hut with some plastic chairs on a dirt floor, one TV and a few locals sitting around watching a soccer match. We were invited to watch our boat captain DJ at the local dance hall that evening in the village, which I imagine would have been a really interesting experience but an offer we didn’t take up due in part to a few too many afternoon beers.

The next day I drove Hadyn to San Pedro Sula airport and dropped him off to fly home. It was great to have a good friend join me for this portion of the trip and share the experience. While sad to see him go, after almost four weeks together I think that I was ready to switch to solo traveler mode for a while and after enjoying some time to myself, pick up a new round of hitchhikers to join me for a while. To Hadyn: you’re a legend for coming to join, was an awesome time and so glad to have you along for the ride.

Local (fire) rum for good luck on the day out fishing. A little rough to be drinking at 7am

Gotta love when the word ‘Yamaha’ is painted onto the cowling of the outboard. Confidence inspiring

Going for a paddle in Cayos Cohinos to break up the day fishing

The local Sambo Creek bar at the end of our day fishing. We took shelter from the rain here while the crew pulled the boat up onto the beach

Sambo Creek. I now wish we’d taken a little more time to explore this town, populated entirely by the Garifuna people local to the area

Comayagua:

Google Maps once again tested my common sense and tried to send me up a windy mountain path. I outsmarted it and followed the highway (with some guidance from some locals), taking me only 20 minutes to reach my destination on a major road while Google thought I should take a three-hour gauntlet through the mountainous switch-backs.

Comayagua is a small colonial town, very cute, very clean, but not a lot to do. I took up a nicer hotel, ate well and slept early to recharge in preparation for the following days crossing into Nicaragua (which would turn out be one of my most challenges days of the trip, stay tuned for the story in my next post).

So not an overly long time in Honduras but quite enjoyable. As far as recommendations go, I don’t think I could suggest rushing there for a standalone holiday destination but certainly was pleasant and in my view a nice place to visit if you’re already in an adjacent country.

Reflecting, it’s almost comical to think how short my time was in Honduras, having now decided to extend my trip as long as funds will allow. As I write this, I’m coming up on two months in Colombia. If I were to have my time over again, it would have been nice to not be so rushed passing through the rich variety of Central American countries. But I’m thankful, from where I sit now, that I won’t be rushing any longer.