Overland epic: Alaska to Panaka, part II

Click on the following link to read part one of this overland epic.

With nearly 13,000km already notched up on the Globebusters Trans-Am expedition, there was a distinct tension in the air as we rolled through the American border post and into Mexico.

Right from the start of our journey, seemingly a lifetime away back in Anchorage, Alaska, the explanation of our route was met with curiosity and caution. "Yeah? You're going down into Mexico? Man, you better watch your ass down there!" These sentiments were common - apparently once you crossed the border certain death lurked at every turn. As it happened, once we'd entered Mexico we didn't spontaneously combust, but we were confronted with anther, altogether more tedious conundrum.

The Mexican border office was closed - completely boarded up - and the rest of the town of Naco was pretty quiet too, due to ongoing fears of an impending shootout between drug cartels and the military.

With our passports stamped out of the US but not into Mexico, we officially didn't exist. Having the right paperwork is essential when you're overlanding, so Globebusters co-founder Kev led our cavalcade off to Agua Prieta, a much larger border town about 35km to the east, to get things sorted.

Although still within sight of the US, the world was now a different place. Smooth highways were a memory, replaced by bumpy and narrow ribbons of tar, while the antiquated trucks plying them belched smoke and crawled their way up inclines at little more than walking pace.

The run through Agua Prieta's crowded cobbled streets was another eye-opener. Latin towns are generally laid out in a grid, and the succession of four-way junctions and one-way streets - where right of way goes to the motorist with the biggest cojones - gave everyone the wakeup call Kev had been warning us about. Two hours of bureaucracy later, a feeling of jubilation swept over us all as we rolled out of town into the heart of northern Mexico, our passports, vehicle registration documents and insurance papers now in place.

MOUNTAIN HIGH
We had some reasonably big days lined up ahead of us here, and as we made our way into the Sierra Madre mountains the riding was sublime - two entire days of bends, with backdrops of rugged peaks, pine forests and verdant valleys. It was sports riding at its brilliant best, but it was all too easy to let your concentration wander, as Paul found out. Coming off on a corner he was lucky to avoid serious injury, although both he and his BMW R 1200 GS were relegated to the Ford Transit support vehicle for a few days.

After Parral we hit an expanse of plains that led us to the majestic Spanish colonial city of Zacatecas. Our five-star hotel lay right across the road from the beautiful old cathedral, and it was a joy to wander the old city's winding lanes in search of an authentic feast of soft tacos or tortillas, duly washed down with an excellent, crisp Mexican lager.

Spain's architectural legacy is a sight to behold, as we discovered in Zacatecas and then again in San Miguel de Allende, where fellow Globebusters guide Jeff took the opportunity to get Paul's GS mobile once more.

The going is largely mountainous in Mexico's southern interior, but as we bypassed Mexico City (and its tourist-eating traffic) and headed down to the coast, it became clear we were most definitely now in the tropics. We stayed in a hotel right on the Gulf of Mexico that had been hammered by a major hurricane just a few days before. The hotel still bore the scars of the battle, and we could only wonder at what might have occurred had our timing been a little different.

The Mayan ruins at Palenque were spectacular. The Mayans ruled supreme in these parts from 250 AD to 900 AD, and the impressive temples and carved stone 'stelae' they left behind still send a shiver up the spine - especially for any of the virgins among us!

CLOSE SHAVE
We were negotiating military checkpoints regularly now, but thankfully the soldiers - just kids, in the main - seemed to merely going through the motions. "Drogas, pistolas?" Drugs and guns were what they were after, and maybe the odd Zapatista rebel - this southern Mexican paramilitary separatist group is still alive and well in these parts.

However, rebels were the last thing on Dave's mind as he ran a little wide on a tight, mountainous turn just south of Palenque, and was confronted with a pick-up heading straight for him. He decked his BMW R 1150 GS, the truck ripping Dave's front wheel clean off its fork tubes, while Dave himself missed its looming bumper by centimeters. The support van was earning its keep, and just as well - this was getting to be something of a nasty habit!

Guatemala ramped the Latin chaos up another notch. Exiting Mexico had been simple, but just ahead it was market day, and the road was crammed with vendors, customers and animals - cue a three-minute, white-knuckle detour up and down perilously steep side alleys, which were only marginally less crowded than the main road. On reaching the Guatemalan border gate, we found it to be everything a Central American border crossing should be - a whirlwind of colours, Latin music blaring from tinny speakers and people everywhere. Black market money changers descended, along with men who offered 'official' queue-jumping services (for a price).

This was all in stark contrast to our retreat at Panajachel, where we looked out over serene Lake Atitlan, and admired the towering volcanoes in the distance. The artisan's market at nearby Chichicastenango was another Guatemalan highlight - it's the biggest of its type in the country, and it's the perfect place to pick up a Mayan death mask, some locally made clothes or a meal of highly questionable origins.

Guatemala has the largest indigenous population of any country in the Americas, and Guatemalans cling fiercely to their traditions. Women still wear their brightly coloured traditional garb, while some 21 local tribal dialects are still spoken.

The road from 'Chichi' to Coban, through the heart of the Guatemalan highlands, had been over 100km of off-road hell on the previous Globebusters Trans-Am tour two years earlier, but since then over half the road had been sealed. Still, it wasn't without its moments - oncoming trucks often took up the entire track, and then there were the perilous drops and bog holes that threatened to swallow both rider and bike in one go!

The next stop was the edgy, gritty town of Ocotal, in Nicaragua - a country where nearly 80 per cent of the population survives on less than US$2 a day. We didn't see any trouble but you got the feeling it was never far away - having our own private guard to mind the bikes, complete with pump-action shotgun, did very little to allay our fears.

A visit to the still-very-active Masaya Volcano was fascinating, although the official regulation of parking your vehicle pointing downhill, so you could make a speedy getaway in case of an eruption, was a little disconcerting.

Next stop was Granada, another Spanish colonial gem, and where most of the group enjoyed a tour of nearby Lago de Nicaragua, Central America's largest lake. For US$10 we had a guide, a boat, a couple of hours exploring Las Isletas (an island playground for Nicaragua's elite) and as much white and dark Flor de Cana rum as we could handle. A swim in the lake's tranquil, tepid waters capped off a perfect afternoon.

The next day we hit San Juan del Sur, a gorgeous beach town on Nicaragua's Pacific coast. A cocktail in one of its many beach shack bars will set you back a pittance, and the garlic lobster or king prawns only a little more. It's an idyllic spot, but sadly time was ticking.

Crossing into Costa Rica finally gave us that Latin border experience we'd all been dreading - hundreds of people milling about, a complex paper chase and sneering officials. With the hangover from hell care of those dangerously cheap Tequila Sunrises back in San Juan, we had a six-hour marathon before we were released into the decidedly more western environs of Costa Rica.

From another Pacific coast beach setting we made our way to the inland village of La Fortuna, via 160km of torturous but breathtaking winding highland roads. Lush jungle, rushing streams, brilliant cobalt-blue butterflies - this was the stuff of tour brochures, just with regular downpours and sweltering humidity.

The active Arenal Volcano minded its manners while we slept, and the next morning we set off for Salva Verde, an eco lodge set amid 500 acres of jungle. We had two nights here, with guided walks, white water rafting and my personal favourite, zip lining - sailing through the treetops along a steel cable, at a distance that would leave Tarzan red-faced.

It was also here at Salvo Verde we met up with Kev's wife Julia, who'd flown out from Globebusters' HQ back in Wales, and Nick, who would be replacing me in the support vehicle for the South American leg of the Trans-Am. Sniff.

After a stop on the Caribbean at the rasta and reggae beach town of Cahuita, we faced our final Central American border - and the challenge of 'the banana bridge'. Made infamous by the Globebusters' DVD The Ride, Alaska to Patagonia, previously aired on the Discovery Channel, the banana bridge is a single-lane construction that links Costa Rica with Panama, and it's shared by trains (carrying bananas), trucks, buses, people, and - on this particular day - the Globebusters Trans-Am expedition.

Put a foot wrong on the banana bridge and you can easily break a leg or an ankle, while a swiftly flowing river passes underneath. Fortunately, everyone made it over without any problems - no doubt the lack of trains helped (just ask anyone on the Trans-Am tour of two years before!).

After a night in nearby Changuinola, an advance party of Jeff, Dave, Nick, Jason and I made a beeline for Panama City, roughly 650km to the east. While Nick got behind the wheel of the Transit, Jason took a rest in the van while I climbed aboard his R 1200 GS - an unexpectedly pleasant way to cap off my Trans-Am adventure.

END OF THE ROAD
It wasn't without a tear in my eye that I crossed the Bridge of the Americas, as I rode over the southern entrance to the Panama Canal, and the skyscrapers of Panama City swung into view.

How do you reflect upon a journey of this scale? And if I was struggling, what hope would the others have at the end of theirs, once they'd ridden the length of South America as well? For me, 24,000km, three-and-a-half months and eight countries after picking up the Ford Transit in Seattle, it was the end of the road, while the rest of the Globebusters prepared for the airlift around the infamous Darien Gap, and the vast continent that lay beyond.

I sank back into my seat as my aircraft lifted off, and Central America - and the Globebusters Trans-Am - shifted from the present to the past. I was tired and travel weary, yet still infused with the sheer wonder of the experience - all those countries, all those cultures, all those people who stood out along the way…

A multi-continent mega tour isn't for everyone, but if you love adventure, riding and squeezing the experience out of life for all it's worth, the Globebusters Trans-Am delivers on all counts, and in ways you couldn't even begin to imagine!

HIGH ADVENTURE WITHOUT THE HASSLE
Globebusters runs a full Trans-Am expedition every two years - if you're an experienced rider you can either complete this epic motorcycle adventure in full, or you can elect to ride a certain section as time and money dictates. You provide the bike, Globebusters handles the bike freight, the route and the accommodation - and provides bike-mounted guides and a support vehicle every step of the way. For more information contact Globebusters Motorcycle Expeditions, tel +44 (0) 8452 304 015, or visit www.globebusters.com.