"It`s not over till the fat lady sings........!"

After a week of running through all the possible outcomes and "What ifs" I finally got the feedback from Nick Birch, the back specialist in the U.K.

“The possible risks of continuing your journey are, recurrence of pain, and needing more treatment in countries where that might be difficult to access. The worst case is that the problem, i.e. your pain, doesn’t settle and that the trip is then effectively over. I would suggest that to begin with, you ride less hours a day and take regular breaks to stretch your back. . ……………. you won’t cause any further actual damage to your spine by continuing to ride, although you might get a recurrence of symptoms because of the ordinary wear and tear changes in your back being irritated by bouncing along rutted roads. “

No mention at all of Montserrat Caballe (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PomIF3s2-OY - 130k) So that was it. “The Journey for Hope” was back on the road!

With a commitment to exercise religiously every day, I decided I would just keep going and see how far I could go. Anything after Panama was going to be a bonus.

Getting back on the bike after a break of nearly 5 weeks was a strange experience. I approached every speed bump and pothole with extra caution. I had planned to ride north from Antigua,through Guatemala City and head for the small island town of Flores. From there I could take the short trip to Tikal the site of the biggest Mayan ruins in Central America.

I decided to break the journey in the small town of Rio Dulce which was still a longer ride than I would have liked and by the time I arrived there I was tired and my back was aching. (If I was Ewen McGregor I would have a back up crew of a masseuse and a mechanic.)

Rio Dulce was a favourite stopover for the affluent, yachting set, so obviously I fit in perfectly.

I was up early the following day for the relatively short 3 hour ride to Flores. In Flores I was due to meet up with another American rider who was heading the same way. Lenny was riding his Kawasaki 650 all the way to Tierra Del Fuego so it made sense to ride together for a while. While I was waiting for Lenny to arrive I was apprehended by a Guatemalan TV crew who wanted to “interview” me (there was obviously no one else around!) about my views on Flores. The interview was brief. I think “Muy bonita” figured heavily.



Shortly after, Lenny arrived, and as we discussed our past experiences and future plans over a beer or two it was clear that Belize was in Lenny`s plans. Belize wasn`t even on my original route, but when he said he was going there, I thought, why not, a short hop across the border and another border crossing would be good practice.

Belize is a strange country. The only Central American country where everything is written in English and everyone speaks English, they even have the Queen on all their bank notes.

The border crossing was easy and marred only by Christmas songs blasting out of the two little speakers on the customs desk.Belize customs and Nat King Cole? It seemed rather incongruous until I realised that we were well into November, and back in the U.K. this would have been happening in every store throughout the country for weeks.

Twenty minutes from the border we arrived in the town of San Ignacio. Within minutes someone approached us and “guided” us to “Nefry`s Retreat” which turned out to be a cheap and clean (well, only one dead cockroach under my bed) hotel. The following day Lenny took off to the islands and I decided to spend a couple of days resting, exercising and attempting to fix an electrical problem.

The recurring issue with the horn not working had returned and was further compounded by the headlight not working. Both of which were pretty critical to safe riding. They had to be fixed. I stripped off the panels and did what I always do in these situations, poke around a little and scratch my head a lot. It`s never really been the best strategy and this time proved equally fruitless. I was still debating what to do as I sipped on my beer in a local bar when a lively group of people beckoned me to join them. The rest of the night was spent in the company of Phil and Maria.

Phil was from the U.S. and was involved in real estate, spending his time developing land in Belize and commuting back to the U.S. Maria, was a Russian accountant who now lived in New York and had travelled extensively. Both had fascinating stories to tell. When I explained what I was doing there and my electrical problem, Phil said,

“You should try Mad Dog”

“Mad Dog?”

“Yea, he`s the best mechanic in town. Everyone calls him Mad Dog”

The Mad Dog and the Englishman

And so the next day, in the mid day sun, the Englishman went to find Mad Dog.

“Hi, I`m looking for Mad Dog”, I said to the man under the bonnet of a car.

“You`ve found him!”

It turned out that Nat (aka Mad Dog) had ridden from Alaska with his son, two years before, but ran out of money in Guyana where his bike still remains. I explained my situation to him.

“Yea, that`ll be no problem. Bring it by this afternoon and I`ll take a look”

I rode the bike up that afternoon and left feeling confident that it would be fixed by the next day. In the evening I headed back to my favourite bar to meet up with my new friends Maria and Phil for a farewell drink (to be honest, several farewell drinks). The following day Phil was off back to the States for Thanksgiving and Maria was going to the islands.

True to his word, the following day, my bike was ready and waiting. Mad Dog had worked his magic and found the faulty relay. His wife Debbie gave me a card with contact details saying,

“If you get into trouble anywhere just call us or e mail and I`m sure he can help you”

I rode off reflecting on how comforting it must be for someone like Nat to know that whatever goes wrong with the bike he could fix it or at least confidently diagnose the problem. Not for the first time I wished I had more technical competence instead of relying on others to help me out. But, “it is what it is”, I reminded myself as I headed for more help with my other priority – my body.

Shortly after arriving in San Ignacio I came across a sign for a massage therapist and decided my back could do with some attention. Gretel turned out to be an excellent masseuse who gave my back a thorough deep tissue (and painful) going over.

“What are you doing in Belize?” she enquired.

I explained about the “Journey for Hope” and my recent problems.

“When are you leaving?”

“In a day or two”

“Come and see me before you go and I`ll give you a complimentary back massage”

So now my bike was fixed, I made my way to see Gretel and get my body fixed.