TA troubles in Costa Rica

The dirt road towards Ostional took us through some very small towns along the Monkey Trail, and required a few unmarked turns (as well as associated U-turns).  Mike was excited to take the ride, having never crossed any rivers on a bike before.  He must´ve done something right, because each time the rubber side stayed down.  (It also helped that the rivers were knee deep and weren´t flowing too fast.)



(Mike looking at the his first river crossing on the way to Ostional)


(driving through river #1)


(most of the drive was well packed surface through lots of trees, hills, turns)




(this stream was just a puddle, but I swear it looked deeper than that!)


(River #2 was deeper than that)

Stopping on a beach for a break outside of Tamarindo, an Argentine guy named Diego on a 1990 Yamaha Ténéré dropped by to say hi and complement the TA. Those beautiful old school dual sport machines were admired for a minute, but then the conversation about his travels and ours prevented us from getting a picture.  Maybe next time we run into him...


Heading down the road, the TA started to cough a bit, especially when engine braking down hills. Eventually, she dropped to just one cylinder. Mike figured it was a faulty CDI but wanted to limp to a house, town, or place before digging into it. Instead, we coasted to a stop when both cylinders failed in front of a wonderful old couple´s house who lived right outside of Lagarto (S of Tamarindo, near Junquillal).


(view of the house we stopped in front of)

Lagarto is on our map, but maybe needn't be.  It is a collection of about 60 people along the one dirt road, has one bar (that could strangely fit all 60 people into it at once), no food options, and the sight to see is one extremely large anchor that they pulled out of the ocean.

So no motorcycle help there. And Mike was out of options.  Fuel was arriving, air filter was dry.  After trying the spare CDI in both cylinders, neither showed a spark with a plug pulled.  Thanks to that thieving in San Juan del Sur, we were without even a 12 V probe light, so electrical testing options were none.


(tent set up in the yard of the house we broke down in front of)

But the couple let us camp in their yard, and spent about 30 minutes that night calling everyone they could think of with a truck to get us back out to Santa Cruz, where they knew of a good mechanic.  They found a guy who was really nice, came right when he said he would the next morning at 7am and got us there.  It cost us US$50, which is not cheap, but not outrageous either. 


(loading the bike onto the truck)


(our hosts at right, helping out yet again)

The mechanic in Santa Cruz found the fault - turns out it was that new aftermarket CDI ignition module that I swapped out for the still good original.  It not only went bad, but managed to screw up the entire circuit it is connected to.  The mechanic patched a hot wire to give power to the good CDI modules, and she fired right up! 


(working on the bike at the shop in Santa Cruz)

So we made it to San Jose on the TA, which was much more fun than in a truck.  Well, kind of....we got stopped by police for a US$30 shake down. They had a trap set up on the other side of this bridge:



Granted, I was passing along a solid yellow line, which is illegal, and could have cost us over US$800, so not too bad at $30. Fines in Costa Rica have recently been increased. Passing on solid yellow is over US$800. Speeding is over US$600. Not having documents is over US$200. And these aren´t gringo charges. Our host in San Jose had to pay a recent speeding ticket for US$600. And for you travelers, you aren´t supposed to be able to cancel your import permit to leave the country without paying the fine. ¡Cuidado!

We then joined the Panamerican which was 2 lanes under construction, full of slow moving trucks, and dumping cold rain through the mountains... it was a much longer day than we expected!

Our destination in San José was our couchsuring host´s home, conveniently located about 2km from the moto shop I wanted to get to, la Moto AG.  We pulled straight to the shop where Jorg (spelling? it was German, and sounded like "Jorg") greeted us with a smile. While the TA was in the shop, I wanted to get new rear rubber on, the oil changed, check the front end alignment from our Guatemalan dog strike (bars are slightly bent), and fix that CDI circuit issue correctly.  Jorg told us that our problems were small compared to what some travelers bring in.  That was actually relieving.  He ended up taking care of a new rear tire and brake cleaning, but then refered me to another mechanic for the electrical troubleshooting and other work. I would go back to la Moto AG and work with Jorg and their shop anytime. I would not, however, work with the BMW mechanic Luis again. (Details in upcoming posts, resolution to follow in El Rincòn, Panamà.)

After dropping the bike off that evening, we cabbed it over to the apartment complex, where Ivàn, our host, came running outside to meet us.  We had spoken with him on the phone a couple times, but his first question in person was, "Do you eat meat?".  He was cooking us up a spaghetti dinner which we absolutely devoured after not eating anything since breakfast.  He is super nice, has backpacked all around Europe and traveled some around CA.  His next plan is to buy a sailboat in the states, sail it back to San José, then across the Pacific to Asia.

How to turn a beach into Disneyland-for-adults

The Panamerican got us to the Peñas Blancas border crossing to Costa Rica very quickly, where we were very quickly assaulted by a swarm of border helpers vying for a few bucks.  We kept riding slowly past them, hoping to see someone in uniform to ask where to find customs and migration offices.  Just then, we ran into another couple of BMW´s going through the crossing at the same time, which helped us keep one person watching the bikes at all times.  Due to lucky timing of the arrival of an RV pulling a dune buggy, the helpers left us alone pretty quick.

Checking out of Nicaragua was easy once we figured out the process.  Important steps include:

1. having an aduana official inspect the VIN and import paper, and then sign the import paper.  All of the aduana officials wear the same polo shirt with logo.  We had this done twice - once where all the helpers were entering the border zone and once in the parking lot for customs and migration - but unless you`re into overkill, or have started to appreciate the Latin American fact that more signatures and more stamps = better, then just one inspection will do.  
2. After that signature, you have to find a police(wo)man to stamp the import permit.  We found them at the tables under the awning beside the migración building.  There is also a bank there (unsure if ATM) and plenty of money changers.  
3. Finally you walk to the Aduana office to have them cancel the import permit.  You have to hand over the canceled permit at the gate leaving Nicaragua, so we made a copy for our records (and in case it was necessary in CR).
4. Drive through the gate.  Done

Checking into Costa Rica could have been much faster had we stopped at the insurance shack between the fumigation and the aduana and migración buildings for Costa Rica.


(fumigation at the border)

For anyone crossing here, after going through fumigation, keep your eyes to the left hand side of the road.  About half way between the fumigation and the CR official buildings (probably a couple hundred meters past fumigation), there is an obscure, single story white building, with no signage.  That´s where you need to buy insurance. (I know a picture would really help for this one, but didn´t have the camera on me when I went back to it.  If you´re looking for it, you´ll see it.)  Do it on the way past.  Insurance is relatively cheap at US$14 for 3 months and you will definitely need it before you can import the bike.  You will also need copies.  They will do that next door.  But they won´t let you in.  They will grab your papers, shut the door, lock it, then return to hand them to you later.

Once to the bigger buildings, head in to the AIR CONDITIONED migración office, glass doors next to the cafe.  (You will want to stay in there longer for the A/C than it takes them to process your passport.)  Then walk across the small parking lot to the aduana booth.  With the insurance in hand, they will start your import permit relatively quickly.

While Mike was standing at the booth handling the paperwork, Jill and the guy traveling on the BMW were getting yelled at by a hoarde of angry bus passengers.  Apparently that group of passengers was very used to setting their luggage on the bench that Jill was sitting on, and couldn´t have it any other way.  After the crowd got so excited, the bus driver, and then even the security guard came over.  They also yelled at Jill and the other guy, telling them that they must move.  Who knew that Costa Ricans would be so particular?

Finally, you have to get that initial form processed at the aduana office which is in the far back corner of one of the warehouse buildings.  You can get there by turning right into where all the semis are parked, and working left to the far back corner (it will feel like you shouldn´t be going that way).  Alternatively, you can stay straight on the highway, but stop by the covered pedestrian bridge on the right.  Walk across it directly into the office.  They will print off the final import document, and give a slip of paper smaller than a business card that you are supposed to hand to the guard at the gate down the road.  I managed to lose my slip of paper between the office and the gate.  Thankfully we didn´t have to repeat any of the process...  All in all it took about 2.5 hours.

Just before going to the final aduana office, the fellow with the RV and dune buggy had pulled up with his border helper.  Mike tried to help them by translating a few details that they were struggling through between the South Carolinean, the border helper, and the customs official.  The best part about the exchange was that the guy from S Carolina affectionately called his towed dune buggy "la Cucaracha", no matter who he was talking to.  Everytime he said it, the officials and his helper cracked up and snickered.  Without fail.  It killed.  The worst part about the exchange is that they were not letting him import 2 vehicles simultaneously into Costa Rica.  He said that others had done it and written about it online.  The only way the officials said it was possible was if you claimed one of the vehicles wasn´t running.  Sadly, he had already told the official that la Cucuracha runs great.  We even considered having Jill drive it across, but then the import papers would have to be in her name and that wouldn´t have helped anybody.  Hopefully he eventually made it past the border with both his hotel and his local transportation. 

We continued down the Interamericana (what many Central American countries call the Panamerican) to Liberia amid a torrential rain storm.  Water was standing on the highway, visibility was fairly low, and oncoming traffic would splash water all over us.  Mike decided that not putting on the waterproof liners was a good idea.  It turns out Mike´s idea was not a good one.  And he had learned this before.  Those splashes of water do a wonderful job of filling our left boots up with water.  Thankfully at the edge of Liberia there was a nice looking Mexican restaurant where we could eat on the patio.  We stripped our boots and socks off and left some standing water on the patio (we apologized, and tried to keep it to the garden area, but didn´t quite succeed, so we apologized again).  Lunch was fantastic, though, and the proprietor told us about Playa de Coco, the closest good beach, about 45 minutes away.

We headed towards the coast on the edge of the storm, even though it felt a bit like a monsoon at times.  But all the lightning stayed in the hills beside us, and we broke free from the rains just off the coast.  Pulling into Playa de Coco, we noticed a lot of nice cars, a big and nice supermarket, and then a strip of bars, restaurants and clubs that looked like Jimmy Buffet had just opened up his version of Disneyland.  The beach didn´t even look that sweet right there.

So we backtracked a bit and headed towards Playa Hermosa.  On the way in, we passed nothing but expensive land for sale, a couple of high rise luxury condo complexes and a supermarket that was more expensive than any we´ve come across yet. 


(Playa Hermosa)

But we found a great little hostel for US$6 per person just off the beach.  The owners were extremely nice and helpful.  The 2 dorm rooms with 4 beds each were small but clean, the main area of the house included living area and kitchen were open air and very comfortable.  The proximity to the beach was a plus, but the howler monkeys that travel through the property were our favorite.



(Howler monkey in the tree at Congo´s)

Within our first few hours of being in Costa Rica, we knew it was expensive.  It´s more expensive than many places in the US.  We tried to keep costs down by only cooking at the hostel.  But one day we splurged and got a bite to eat on the beach.  You can tell the vendor was happy about our decision.


(Pissed of lady that sold us a meat stick at the beach in Playa Hermosa)

After talking with the owners of Congo´s about our travel through Costa Rica, we decided to go turtle watching at Ostional.  We would be there on a perfect week to see the leatherbacks coming to shore to lay their eggs.  And the old coastal road they described to get down past Tamarindo sounded like fun.  It was fun, it was an adventure, but we never saw any turtles...

Party time in a surf town

Pulling into San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua on a holiday weekend ruled out many of the hostels and hospedajes. We finally found one on the main street just 1/2 block from the water that seemed fine, and cost US$20 a night (no A/C, just fan, but private bathroom). Bike parking was going to be a hassle, though, with cars parked directly in front of the entrance. So we left the bike out front and went wandering for dinner and a few beers. The town was packed with partyers, but some of the smaller restaurants and bars were reasonable (at around US$1.50 per beer).

 All the festivities got to us, which had at least 2 detrimental effects. First of all, the next day was a little slow going (but we were at the beach, so that was fitting). Secondly, we were in no condition to pull the bike into the hostel that night, and we did not remove the engine guard bags, so some revelers were kind enough to empty the contents of one of them for us. Thankfully, we only lost a spare tube, our patch kit, a couple sets of nylon webbing and straps, and a small pair of pliers. And we really could have prevented that, so we can only blame ourselves.

Even with that happening, San Juan del Sur still ranked high on our list of places. We would return in a heartbeat! The town relaxed a little bit after that first night, so wasn't an obnoxious party the whole time we were there. There is a lot of good food options at a range of prices. The beach at San Juan del Sur is incredibly perfect for swimming- it gets used but wasn't overly crowded, the sand is nice, water is warm, and no crazy currents.

From Blog photos

The following day we rode the bike over to Playa Maderas, a low key surfing beach. Mike took an hour surfing lesson and managed alright (standing up and controlling the long board the majority of the time, but only when provided with a shove from the instructor...not once was he able to paddle and catch the wave on his own...he's lazy), but we didn't bring the camera so no evidence. That area was nice, though not very good for swimming (between the rocks and the surfers, it could be a painful experience). Playa Maderas felt rather safe. I still wouldn't bring any extra valuables, but neither would I worry about it that much. Everything we've heard about the beaches south of San Juan del Sur is that they have a bit of a problem with ratones ("rats" = thieves).

Mike also managed to explode his flip flops while walking in town. A surftown is not too bad of a place to have that happen. There were a couple of surfshops with "nice" flip flops (Reefs again, what just broke, at US$40-60 didn't sound that enticing), and plenty of options for under US$20. Some new squishy sandals are now Mike's go-to shoes.

After our 3rd night in San Juan del Sur, we were ready to head on to a Costa Rican beach for an international comparison.

We Have Arrived in South America!

Although our blog shows us as being somewhere near the Nicaraguan/Costa Rican border, we have actually just stepped foot on land in Cartagena, Colombia after an awesome 5 day sailboat ride from Panama.  We hope to update soon with lots of good pictures of our trip and to also let you know how our time in Costa Rica and Panama was.