I spent yesterday moping about Placencia, a place known for its beautiful beaches and island excursions. There were a lot of tourists riding around in golf carts. I just wanted to sit in our hotel room and watch Cupcake Wars.
I missed my friends. Belize was not the same without them. I didn’t even feel like being there anymore, which was fine, considering we planned to take a boat to Honduras today. Turns out you can stop Belize’n. Though I’m not sure how I feel about going to a country that’s had the highest murder rate in the world since 2010.
About 50 people pile into the belly of the boat, sitting shoulder to shoulder. A strong smell of body odor and toots overwhelms the interior. Someone ate too many beans this morning. We board the boat at 8:30am but don’t set out until close to noon.
Belize’s roads are notorious for their potholes. I was hoping for smooth seas, but a storm is blowing in, making our ride out of Belize not any smoother than our ride through its interior.
By the time we arrive, it’s raining, as if Honduras welcomes us with a big wet sloppy kiss. It takes almost two hours to get through the immigration checkpoint. When we do finally set off it is still raining and we have less than two hours of daylight remaining. Luckily we only have 13 miles to our destination.
The road is slick. There’s a shoulder but it’s a couple of inches lower than the road. At one point, I can see the shoulder ending so I move left to get up on the road. I don’t turn hard enough so instead of the front tire popping up onto the road, it slides along the edge of the pavement where the shoulder meets the road. I know instantly I’m going down.
I hit the pavement. Hard. The bike and I slide a couple of feet. It takes a bit to stop the momentum of a 100 pound bike. I fell into the road, but luckily there is no traffic. Some guys who were riding behind me stop and help pick up the bike.
My head hurts. I hit my head when I went down and gave my marbles a good shaking. Good thing I’m wearing my helmet. Surprisingly, there is no road rash. I only have a small scrape on my knee and thumb. The wet road surface made for a slip and slide rather than the cheese grater of dry pavement. Scott looks me over to make sure we didn’t miss a gusher that the adrenaline is masking. I appear to be ok, so I get back in the saddle and push on.
Bienvenidos a Honduras.