On September 4, 2002, I entered Honduras and stopped at a restaurant for a lunch of rice, beans with some shrimp and a juice. I continued on the Pan American Highway which was filled with holes and bumps. After about 40 kilometers, I started to look for a place to camp and settled in a field with some horses and cows.

         The next day, the Highway continued to be fairly flat until I crossed a tributary to the Nacaome River and then the climb started. I stopped at a restaurant for lunch where I met a girl from San Francisco who had just finished University and had come to Honduras to work for the Peace Corps. Over lunch, we talked of her work and my trip. At San Antonio de Flores, it started to rain so I stopped in an abandoned building to seek shelter and found a dog nursing three pups. Further down the road, I stopped at a store to buy some drinks and the bike was soon surrounded by people. When I sat down on a bench to have a drink, a drunk sat down beside me and stared at me the whole time. He then invited me to go to his sister's place for the night, but I decided to carry on down the road. I found a place to camp in a field just as the sun was setting and the rain starting.

         In the morning, after eating breakfast, I was working on my diary when I suddenly realized someone was standing behind me just staring. Soon, two more guys appeared so I decided to move on up the Highway. The climb continued all day and the heat was oppressive. I spent the day riding in short spurts, from one shady spot to the next. I stopped at La Venta to have a drink but I had eaten my avocado and tomato earlier so I had no food for lunch. By mid-afternoon, I was becoming pretty weak from lack of food when I finally found a restaurant and had the usual chicken, rice, beans and vegetables. I sat outside for awhile to work on my diary when the usual crowd gathered around to stare at me.

         I quickly made it to the top; then the downhill started past the cheering crowds shouting out incomprehensible words and phrases. I arrived in Sabanagrande and got instructions to a guest house (Huespedes). As I was riding along, it started to rain. A group of people sitting on a porch, called me over to get under the shelter. We sat and talked about my trip, and I got to be the guy sitting at the side of the road watching the world go by.

         When the rain stopped, I found the guest house and checked in. I was shown my room by candle light as the electrical power was off in the whole town. Later I went to find a restaurant but it was closed. The store next door offered to make me a sandwich. I returned to the guest house just as the power went back on. I sat in the windowless room and ate the tasteless chicken pate sandwich and then went to bed on a disgusting mattress made out of unknown material!

         On September 7, I decided to rest in the disgusting place another day. I went in search of food but there was very little in the way of fruit and vegetables. I spent the day practicing Spanish, working on my diary and resting. That night, the power went out at 8pm for an hour. I tried to listen to some of my music to drown out the same three reggae songs the owner had been playing repeatedly all day!

         On Sunday, I went to the restaurant for a breakfast of beans, eggs, plantain and tortillas and then started the climb to the capital of Tegucigalpa. At one of my rest stops, the police pulled over and asked questions about my bike and the trip. They were very friendly and shook my hand. At another rest stop, a black gentleman on a motorcycle stopped to see if I was alright. He was from South Carolina but had lived in Central America for about twenty years. At the turn-off to Santa Ana, I stopped for a drink and a snack and the usual crowd gathered around.