Honduran route. The map page is currently updated through Nicaragua.
Bananas and variants everywhere. Fresh ones eaten roadside. Fried plantains for breakfast, or sliced thin and fried and served with a meal instead of French* fries. Banana bread too a great snack, and easy to find in most tiny grocery stores.
*Note: if traveling with a Belgian companion, refrain from calling them “French” fries.
Headed into Honduras along the Caribbean coast. First stop: Omoa, jump into the Caribbean straight off the pier.
Head farther down the coast to La Ceiba, Honduras’ party city. Ended up hoping up here for Easter week while Sebastiaan went to the nearby island of Utila to do a dive course.
One of the busiest weeks of the year, and still one of the quietest beaches I’ve ever seen. Honduras is underrated.
All recent camping has been urban camping. Generally this means asking whatever little restaurant we eat dinner at if we can camp there overnight. Usually we’re given a place under shelter, and just set the tents up for bug protection.
Or we might ask at a police station. This station had a room and mattresses for people to sleep off a hard night out, which they immediately offered us. “To serve and to protect- this is our motto, this is our job”, one policeman told us proudly.
Third option: church camping. The closer you hang your hammock to the altar, the better your night’s sleep.
From the Caribbean coast, we turned back inland over the mountains.
One of the best parts of climbing mountains: pine forests always appear, so far all down the Americas. A little reminder of home.
One evening, following a long day of near continuous tire punctures (bad glue? Bad patches? Too hot weather? Cause still unknown), we were asking around in a small village about possible places to eat and sleep. José and his sister offered us a place. On a beautiful farm, full of fruits, they gave us mattresses and a cabin for the night, used to sheltering people that their pastor father brings around. A fun meet-the-family evening.
With some bike testing included. No one here worries much whether a bike is the right size for them; if the frame is too big, just pedal sitting on the top tube instead of the saddle.
Memorable food moments: this “restaurant” in the side of a tire repair shop. Rice and beans and fried steak, with fresh salsa and fried plantains. $2. Because of food like this, Sebastiaan and I haven’t been using the camp stove all that much.
Also roadside watermelon stops.
Spotted just before leaving: hammocks are everywhere, and truckers know how to hang in a guaranteed shady spot.