Stuck in the Mud

On my way to the border with a plan on driving straight through the Guards I stopped to say goodbye to some of the Mormon’s who had been so nice to me. When I told them my plan they begged me not to do it, “First let us go to the border with you and try to talk with the Guatemalan’s.”

I rode the bike to the border and tried to walk across the bridge to talk to the Guards. But I was stopped by the Salvadorians and told I couldn’t leave the bike here, like I had done yesterday. The more I try to leave and get turned away the more suspicious I look. So my friends walked over and tried to talk with them.

They came back in a few hours frustrated and told me, “They think you stole the motorcycle.” Never mind that I have the original title and over 30 movies online following the trip from home to here, if that is what they think then nothing will change their minds. Now my idea of running the border doesn’t seem like a bad idea. My friends agree that it may be the only way.

I decide that if I am going to do it I had better go to a different crossing, there is 1 farther to the south. They won’t be expecting it there, so I said goodbye and headed south. The nice twisty road soon turned to mud with large ruts. I had made it pretty far into the mountains, when the bike started to head for a big rut on the side of the road. I watched it all happen in third person, unable to do anything about it. I had closed the throttle and remember wondering why the bike wasn’t stopping. After almost 9000 miles of riding grabbing the clutch and brake slipped my mind, and the bike went crashing into the rut.

I fought with the bike for hours, lifting it off its side and trying to drive it out of the rut only to have it fall more than 10 times. I had to unclip the luggage off the sides to shed weight, and use the fold up shovel (E-tool) I had “borrowed” from the Armory before I left. I turned the bike 180° as it lay on the ground and then had to drag over 500 pounds of motorcycle out of the ditch, something that I would have thought was impossible before. All this and I still had to lift the bike up 1 more time. Water was still running down the ditch, several times I almost had it up but my boots slipped out from under me, forcing me to start all over.

Covered in mud and exhausted I started to wonder if I should set up my tent and spend the night there. It was starting to get dark and I was running out of strength, it wasn’t likely anybody else would be foolish enough to use this road; help wasn’t coming. It took a lot of yelling and cursing to lift it that last time, I was surprised when I did lift it successfully. I rode back to the little town that had warned me not to go up the road. Stopped at small store for a something to drink, the owner looked a little frightened when the mud covered gringo walked in, and found a cold Gatorade for me to drink.

Back at Juan and Raddis’s house they washed my clothes and let me take a shower. I was exhausted my arms still shaking from all the lifting and pulling I had done on the mountain. Finding the edge of sanity is what I had come on this trip for. Getting stuck in the mud and having to fight my way out is why I bought a GS. I had every right to be angry, frustrated and disappointed. But I couldn’t stop laughing.

--Ryan