Dear rattlevan

We’ve had our differences.  Let me be the first to say that I’m sorry.  I’ve said some bad things about you (but not much to the internets), I’ve occasionally cursed you when you slipped a bolt and bloodied my knuckle and, most of all, I’m sorry for dropping you off with that mechanic.  Don’t pretend you weren’t upset about that.  I suspect that it was you that turned on your furnace and drained your batteries down to zero charge, damaging them forever.  I don’t blame you and I’m willing to forget it.  Your batteries don’t last nearly as long as they used to, but they were already old before this trip.  Also, I did install that high-power fan that’s sucking a lot of juice but it was hot man – what was I supposed to do?  We’ll get some new batteries for you soon. 



You’ve performed well overall, especially considering your age.  You’ll be 32 years old this year and that’s a lot of years.  Not that you’re near your end – don’t get me wrong.  You’ve got many years left in you, but I hear that as you approach middle age, things start to creak and ache now and then.  I expect that when I start approaching middle age, the same things may happen to me.  It’s nothing to worry about. 

Try not to focus on the few things that are bothering you, like the annoying brake squeal.  I know that you aren’t just doing it to spite us.  I’m sure it’s the crappy pads that that mechanic installed.  Also, that clunking sound.  I’m on it.  It’s just your stabilizer bar clunking a bit – nothing to worry about.  I’ll pull that bracket and persuade it back into shape as soon as I find a shop with a vice.  Also, I know your cabinetry needs some work.  It’s not your fault.  I mean, they built most of you with frickin’ particle board, man.  Particle board!  That stuff could never last this many years, not to mention the rattles.  Just try to keep that stove and refrigerator in place through this trip and I’ll give some serious thought to a complete interior renovation.  I mean it.  I’ll think really hard about it.
 
Try instead to focus on the things that are good since your run-in with the mechanic.  Your exhaust sounds great right? No leaks from the engine all the way out the back.  Oh, and what about the clutch? It’s in awesome shape!  You gave us a bit of scare after you got that new one but after I got all that air out of the lines and freshened up that hydraulic fluid, it’s working like a champ! Oh yeah, and you’ve got a lot more power now too.  You go right up hill without any troubles now (sorry about the whole fuel pump mishap – my bad).  And we can’t have this talk without mentioning your new suspension.  Aw, you’re welcome.  I did have to pack those air springs all the way in from the US but wow was it worth it, huh? Did you see that incline into that driveway we cleared today? You never would have even come close to making that with your ass dragging like it used to. 

So keep your chin up, buddy.  I know it’s tough dragging a couple of hobos and a weasel around this place.  You cut your teeth in some pretty harsh places in the Pacific Northwest and you’ve got the rust to show for it, but this place is tough man! You’re doing amazing and we really appreciate it.  Just try to hold on a couple of more months and I promise there’ll be a nice long rest for your weary bones.

Knockers

 

Itineraries

On this trip, the only thing consistent about our travel plans has been how easily they've changed.  This time, we've decided (until we change our minds again) to cut Nicaragua from the itinerary in favor of more time in Honduras and Mexico.

This is funny to us, because our original plan was to hightail it to Nicaragua, taking only two weeks or so, and then to spend the remaining six months there.  "Let's move to Nicaragua" was our escapist fantasy for years.

There are a couple of good reasons we've cut Nicaragua from the list in favor of maintaining our relaxed travel schedule, but mostly it's because we love Mexico. And we're starting to love Honduras and want the time to do it justice.  Also, I've been to Nicaragua (and, don't get me wrong, adored it - part of the reason we set it as our original destination), and Chuck's ready for a change of scene from Central America to Mexico.

So, we'll spend another week or so (or more, who are we kidding?) in Honduras, but then I think we'll make our way slowly back upward.

Typical

Honduras (At Last)

I'll admit it - I was impatient.  The van seemed to be developing problem after problem, each one extending our stay in Antigua.  We'd lost the apartment and were staying in a fine and dog-friendly but budget little hostel whose walls were so thin we were forced to hear our creepy American neighbor's racy conversations with a caller that context led us to believe was our neighbor's much younger Guatemalan lover.  At one point, I warned the neighbor (simply by speaking in a normal voice and knowing he could hear me) that the walls weren't as thick as he thought.  At another point, when he asked his lover if she wanted to hear about a particular fantasy he had, I was forced to shout, "No! No one wants to hear it!"  

But it wasn't simply that I wanted to get away from our amorous neighbor.  I also badly wanted to spend some time in Honduras and Nicaragua, and Chuck and I had both started to feel like time was running out.  (Those of you working full-time jobs are now free to laugh and/or cry at our near-panic about only having 2.5 months of freedom remaining.)

Anyway, the rattlevan had been acting ancient and sad and our mechanic situation had been pretty grim, so when we finally did hit the road again, it felt like bliss.  The old van hummed along with its fancy new parts -- mostly hummed, anyway -- and we were moving.  Through Guatemala City and into some desert highlands, we stopped for the night in the bustling city of Chiquimula, camped in the secured parking lot of another well-worn hotel.  It rained that night, and mangoes bounced loudly onto our roof.

The next morning, we hit the border early: Honduras!

El Florido is definitely the nicest and most relaxed border we've crossed.  Still, certain problems with car titles and driver's licenses caused some delays, and it turned out that Honduras shares with Belize the dubious distinction of being one of very few Central American countries to actually care about Lena's entry.  After some wait, the border vet examined Lena and filled out the paperwork for her nationalization, laughing as he declared her a hondureña.

Note the unfortunate trailer that apparently didn't get across.

Our first stop, right near the Guatemala-Honduras border, was to see the ruins at Copán.  We breezed through the pretty colonial town of Copán Ruinas -- temporarily colonial town-ed out after Antigua, perhaps -- and headed instead for a sort of eco-lodge in the hills above the Copán valley.  

The folks at the lodge let us park for free and it was idyllic.

Yoga platform overlooking the ruins across a valley?  Yes, please.

The ruins at Copán are extraordinary in a totally different way than the others we've seen.  At Copán, it's all about the art.  In fact, the museum, which houses some of the best sculptures, was almost as much fun as the archaeological site.

As an added bonus, macaws fly around the ruins as one step in their re-introduction to the wild.  Like cartoons come to life, especially in flight.

Handsome

We originally had a vague plan of heading next to Gracias to do some hiking in the National Park Celaque, a cloud forest that's supposed to be amazing.  But then we crunched some numbers (dates) and realized that our plan of spending a month in the U.S. backpacking before returning to work would likely satisfy our cravings for wilderness and also leave us only about a month to finish up in Central America and Mexico.  So we nixed the backpacking plan and headed instead for the Bay Islands. 

Yesterday, we put in a long day of driving from Copán to La Ceiba, from the mountains to the Caribbean.  And this morning we hopped a ferry to Utila.

Don't tell Lena she was considered cargo.

Those of you who know me well can guess the winner in
the age-old battle of The Ocean vs. Dramamine.

Friends, this was not a fun boat ride for me. The boat was fully enclosed and the waters were enormously choppy for an hour and a half.  I had popped a dramamine like a good traveler, to no avail.  

Totally worth it, though, already.  Utila is adorable, Chuck is out snorkling even as I write this (with plans for a dive tomorrow), and I'm sitting on a porch overlooking the greenest, bluest sea I can remember.  

Next up, maybe, a Post About My Parents' Visit If They Ever Send Me Their Pictures, or Something By Chuck about Knockers.

There. We fixed it!

Exciting news folks. The rattlevan is fixed.  (It was broken and couldn't go uphill.) Thanks to much help diagnosing the problem from the friendly and supportive forum community at toyotamotorhome.org and some friends of Beth's dad, we've figured it out.  It was a close call with blaming the carburetor (the whipping child of engines) and some laborious work dropping the gas tank and exhaust systems.

In the end it turned out to be something simple.  The fuel pump, when it was replaced, was hooked up wrong.  It's embarrassing that I didn't catch it initially but I finally did when helpful people suggested a fuel flow rate test.  After a 30 second fix of the hoses, the old van blasted right up the hill like a turbocharged super car. Well, maybe more like a lazy hippopotamus with a penchant for cheetos and word of a hilltop Circle K.

Either way, we're good and ready to head out tomorrow for...hmm. I guess we better finally figure that out.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention: I crashed the van.

Ahem.  It almost slipped my mind.  No idea why.  When I was pulling into the car shop.  Into the very, very narrow alleyway that leads to the shop.  I may have slightly crashed into a teeny steel structure that was there.  Oops. I had previously pulled into that area a few times without incident and I guess I was feeling just a bit over-confident. 

That’s when the crunching commenced followed briefly by the cussing and severe disparagement of my character by a certain occupant of the van that wasn’t Lena. 

Did I mention just how narrow the alleyway was? It was extremely narrow.

But then I fixed it. 



By fixed it, I mean I fitted a piece of sheet metal and riveted it to the unbroken part of the window.  What I don’t mean is that that portion is still a window.  Since it’s metal and all, it doesn’t have quite the clarity that it used to have when it was an actual window.  Hey, I did paint it black though so you have to look closely to see just how hillbilly it is.