Well, its been a while guys, but we're back and in stylee! We managed to cross the Guatamala / Honduras border without any problems (after greasing local dignitaries with enuff currency to keep them happy of course) and headed for the wee town of Copan Ruinas, which unlike Copan, isn't full of ruins.

We pulled into town with a couple of nice German girls, who immdeiately dumped us, as we wanted cheaper accommodation and kept messing about! Sorry girls! Hope the weirdo manager was OK after you got back. The ruins are only 15 mins walk so we set off down the road and arrived in plenty of time to spend, oh, a good 5-6 hours in the fantastic ruins. After spending US$10 to get in, imagine our surprise at finding only a small site, with a couple of impressive pyramids, one with an excellent hieroglyphic stairway, and about 3 tour groups of middle-aged Germans having their guided tours. The whole site is surrounded by a huge fence so you can't escape or explore the jungle, Jackal-style, and we saw the same faces from the last place we visited. Damned Lonely Planet trail!

To be honest though, we think that any ruins pale into insignificance after the majestic Tikal (see Star Wars) ruins.

So, after only 2 hours in the ruins we unhappily left, rueing the $10 we had to spend on entrance and happy in the fact we DIDN'T spend the extra $12 to go in the exciting tunnels, or the $5 for the museum which contained all the "original" stelae and carvings.

No more time folks, but the further adventures will appear here shortly, including: mountain trips, scary bus rides, filthy cities, filthy backsides, useless banks, Honduran elections, Honduran erections (the stelae of course!), and more venues and tour dates from "Squits International"!

See ya later!

Jackal

AAARRRGGGHHHH!! Just typed a load of stuff in and lost it all to the phantom internet devils! They happily wipe out masses of data at the drop of a mouse. Dagnammit!

Anyway, back to Honduras. After Copan Ruinas we set off for a town of 6000 people called Gracias, set in the most mountainous region of Honduras, and after the 6hr bus journey on the lovely chicken buses, through tiny mountain villages and constantly uphill into the peaks I can see why! Absolutely beautiful area, almost unspoiled, jagged, tree covered mountains and the always smiling locals on the bus. Unfortunately Gordy didn't appreciate too much of this as he was more worried about losing his insides into his pants at the time!

Gracias, although the capital of the region, is a dust road town, with little to do and little people to do it with! The biggest excitement in the town was the upcoming election of the president and every house was covered in the various colours of the local parties!

So, why stay here? Weeelllll, there are a lot of mountains and a beautifully preserved reserve just out of town, with great hikes and cabins to stay in. The fact it's also home to Jaguars, Pumas, Ocelots and a huge variety of animal and bird life is a huge bonus! So, after the 1st night in town we hired an early pick up truck with a very friendly French/American couple (Eric and Amaya) to take us up the mountain to the "lodge". After paying the (10x more for being a foreigner) entry fee at the bottom of the mountain (well 1400m up the mountain! about 1 Ben Nevis in height already) to a lady in a house we hiked the next 45mins uphill to the "real" entrance to the park, where we met an old lady who makes bread for hikers and meals for when you return! She lives in a wooden shack with her two 40yr old sons (something strange here methinks!) overlooking the whole valley, with pristine rapids on one side and a steep rise on the other. After getting the obligatory bread, we hiked the next 10mins to the cabin / visitors centre, which was actually very nice. Even had seats on the toilets which is a luxury round here... and CLEAN showers! But of course, this was too nice for us so we decided to hike to the next slightly more basic shack, about 600m directly up the hill.

You'd think that a small hike up only 600m in height was an OK walk to do with a reasonably small pack (sleeping bags, food for 2 days, spare clothes, etc.) for 3 fit guys and a french couple who came with us, but of course it wasn't! Well, it was for the couple who steamed on ahead undeterred by the steepness of the climb, the several large streams we had to traverse over slippy log bridges, and the heat, but the poor adventurers came a little unstuck! I hadn't realised it was Graeme's first EVER hike up a mountain, and so with about 1km gone and roughly 200m height, Graeme was already dead on his feet, eating the emergency Snickers bar for energy and slipping further behind. I have to say, I haven't ever seen him look quite this tired after walking in my life! And poor Gairdy, who had taken an Imodium pill to control his bottom outflow problem was also slightly lacking in energy for the climb, but after his cub scout training, was battling on nevertheless!

After 45 minutes, we came to the first rest point, which was supposed to take us 1.5hours to reach... Marvellous! We sat, rested, chatted, Graeme collapsed in a heap on the floor and after 15 mins carried on, up the never ending stiff slope. After another 45 minutes we actually arrived at the 1st rest point on the map... DOH! Whatt-a mistake-a to make-a! I think Graeme's heart sagged just about 1500m to the bottom of the mountain [G: Yes, it did.], along with my jaw and Gordon's bum!

Soooo, after another 15 minutes rest we carried on along the switchbacks up the mountain, rueing the fact we'd ever thought of bringing packs with us in the 1st place. I mean who actually needs food and water, eh?!

Oh your god, was that the HARDEST thing I have done in my entire life. I can honestly say that I enjoyed not one single moment of it, and yet having conquered the mountain, I do have a great sense of achievement ... but back to the hike ...

The first rest-stop came after about 250m (vertical) of "switchbacks", which supposedly make it "easier" to climb the mountain. Jyahh, and monkeys might fly out of my butt! By the time I got to the rest area, the others had all rested for 15 mins so were ready to press on ... they got twice as much rest as me, and are 10x fitter anyway. Doh!

The next part of the mountain was straight uphill, and I had to concentrate on every.single.s.t.e.p., as my vision started to grey around the edges, my heart was trying to explode with every step, and my legs were not just run out of energy, but violating thermodynamic principles by creating energy from nothing. Newton, eat my shorts. The uphill bit soon took us to a trail that went around the edge of the mountain, and for about 25m, until the path curved out of sight, fairly flat. Oh my heart wept for joy. Until I got round the bend to see the path go up, up, UP, precariously balanced on the edge of a mountain,with fallen trees across it that you had to climb over whilst not falling off the mountain. Oh how my heart wept with pain and forboding.

The trail to the shack area is marked by 5 "quebradas" or ickle mountain streams, which you have to negotiate by the slippy logs thrown across them. At Q3 - remember that I have tunnel vision at this point(seriously folks), can only think "lift.foot. move.forward. put.foot.. down... li.ft.fo.o.t.m..o..v....e......fo.." my foot slipped on a rock and I fell in the stream - ahh,fine you think, its only 20cm deep. Then I slipped in the stream, and got washed down the mountain 2m - now I KNOW this doesn't sound much, but when you haven't got a clue what's happening, and you see the sky whizz over you, feel your leg get gashed [Editor's Note: Astro has a fine scar to prove it], and crack your elbow off a rock, thoughts of "ohsh**whathefuisgoion?" race through your head. I ended up in a waist deep pool, with two rocks blocking my further watery descent down a proper vertical mountain tumble, had to climb back up the mountain stream, hobble to a rock, and look at my right shin, which had 3 huge lumps on it, like someone had implanted tangerings under the skin, one gash down the side, no blood just white white skin-making tissue cruelly exposed to the surrounding jungle. Jackal brought out the surgical spirits to clean it, and oh the tears that trickled down my face with the pain. No me gusta. Gairdy brought out the chocolate chip cookies which was a nice touch :-)

After that I hobbled far behind everyone else the next 40 mins to the

SCARIEST BLAIR-WITCHIEST HUT IN THE WORLD

Imagine - a forest clearing, some 25 metres in diameter. A circular stone collection, for lighting fires in. Pine, and other deciduous alpine-type trees standing guard all around, and in the middle, a hut of, err, basic construction; just 5 sheets of corrugated iron, nailed to a basic wooden frame. That's it. And the bed - a bunk bed. Marvellous? No (but what should we expect up a mountain?). A wooden frame - a rough wooden frame - nailed together so that it wobbles when any weight is put on it (so imagine the effect of Gonzo's arse), and where the mattress might normally be - string. Wound from side to side. Later on, when me n Jackal shared the tiny proportions of the bottom bunk, we both lost circulation at every chakra-point in our backs and every part of our legs due to the string cutting into us. "Ahh," as Gonzo said, "this is the life."

Well, we spent the rest of the afternoon sitting around the fire, I had to dry my boots and socks on the stones, we cooked the best meal in the world, or so it seemed at that point, simple fare of noodles, garlic, onion, pepper and packet soup, in fresh river water. As the ubiquitous 12hr day ended at 6pm, the spiders came out and crawled over the stones around the fire, and those of us with torches kept pointing them into the pitch black environs at the slightest sound of a leaf dropping, primaevel fears surging from the DNA-memory into consciousness. Jackal, rather bravely, said he would carry on climbing the mountain in the morning with too-fit-for-us couple, and then rather sensibly, at 0600 the next morning, decided against it. The next part of the mountain is described as "hard". !!!!!!!

So so so, at 1130, everyone back at camp - the French couple having successfully scaled the remainder of the mountain and come back down like hoppity little mountain goats, we went down the mountain, and I discovered what my front thigh muscles and calf muscles are for. At the foot of the mountain, we bought a pick-up lift from a local, got back to the hostel, and I hugged my normally uncomfortable bed like I would a life jacket in the ocean.

More later! To come ... the dirtiest city in the world, the most useless banks in the world, one street towns, the boys give it International Playboy-stylee at posh hotels, and, oh dump be good to me, more bouts of diarrhoea. ¡Hasta Luego!

---

Well its goodbye to him, the taxman finally caught up with him: George Harrison, ashes to the Ganges.

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After Gracias, we took a scary bus ride to the 2nd city of Honduras - San Pedro Sula. From previous entries you should be able to answer this question:

How many people can you fit in a chicken bus? (answer below)

San Pedro Sula .. to quote the film Twin Town, what a "pretty sh*tty city". A dirty, squalid, rank, run-down, filthy, dispossessed, crumbling, smelly vomit of a construction. We stayed long enough to get our laundry done - which after climbing mountains was preeeettyy honking - and to get money out of the banks. That is, after visiting 8 banks I finally managed to get some money out of a bank machine, but I had to randomly press buttons before the darn thing would accept my card. Weird. Before that, we had visited one bank, where in answer to the question: "¿Puedo cambiar este travellers cheque?" (Can I change this T.C.?), the answer was, to me, "yes please sign here", and to Gordon, "yes, please go upstairs to the International Department". Eventually with both of us upstairs, the very efficient looking young lady in smart dress looked disdainfully at the travellers cheques and said "no of course not". Like, heeeelllllooooo?

On our evening in S.P.S., we saw a most disturbing vision - pulled up at an intersection where the traffic lights were on red, was a scrambler-type motorbike, whose pilion rider, clad in balaclava, rested a huge shotgun against his right shoulder. Guess how quickly we changed the direction we were walking in? ... s.c.a.r.y.

So after leaving the delightful surroundings of San Pedro Sula, with clean laundry, we decided to head south toward the Honduran capital of Tegucigalpa, but first stop off enroute for a day or so in Lago Yajoa (Lake Yajoa), which was recommended in our travelling bibles as worth a visit. Our last Lake experience was a success, so why not see what Honduras can offer!

1.5 hours south we jumped off the bus, and immediately onto an Autobus de Pollo (Chicken Bus) and headed toward Peña Blanca, about 15 km from the North-South Highway.

With sunset approaching the colours and shadows around the lake were awesome, with the hills around casting impressive silhouettes and shadows. The most striking impression we got from arriving here though were the hoards and hoards of trucks carrying mostly teenagers, cheering and waving banners. The result of the election had just been announced and the locals felt the need to show their approval. If Honduras ever wins the world cup (which is about as likely as Scotland doing the same! yeah yeah yeah ... I know ... no chance) then this place would go mental. We thought we were in luck as there would be a generally festive spirit to the town, but after an hour all the excitement died down and Peña Blanca reverted back to its sleepy old ways.

We grabbed some dinner (eventually, after convincing somebody to please make Graeme a vegetarian dish), then headed out for a beer. Carl remained in bed as it was his turn to be a backing singer for Squits Inernational. Graeme and I found what appeared to be somebody's front porch who was willing to sell us beer. Unfortunately the days either side of an election means nobody is allowed to sell or consume alcohol. Humph! Anyway, one man was at least willing to break the rules for a couple of thirsty looking gringos. That evening we spent an hour winding down to the only English Channel available "Cartoon Network", and watched a bit of Bugs and Daffy ... quite a tricky plot line, but from what I gathered, Bugs was all smug and came out on top, whilst Daffy kept losing his beak and was always well and truly beaten by the conniving chipmunks. Pesky animals ..! [Editor's Note: I don't think our Gonzo watches cartoons much ..]

The next day we walked, hitchhiked and asked everybody from locals to hotel owners "How do we get to the impressive waterfalls nearby?". Nobody seemed to be able to tell us how, though we eventually found out the bus left from almost directly outside our hotel. Well how were we to know?

As we couldn't track the elusive falls down we decided to ride our luck and see if we could get to use some of the facilities of a local 5 star hotel.

Well we are 3 dashing, charming young men so who could refuse us ..? Well the first hotel did, but Hotel Glorias was very accomodating, and for the cost of a couple of beers we swam in their pool, basked in their lakeside summer house and soaked up the sun with terrific views of all round the lake. A great relaxing day, just what Carl's bowels needed ..!

This prepared us for the hiking we were planning to do in and around Tegucigalpa over the next few days ... the next instalment features rip-off beer, attractive Dutch girls, bumping into Lonely Planet travellers from countries past, Graeme's recurring illness (would you believe it!?) and La Tigra National Park ... WHERE WE SAW SOMETHING MOVING IN THE WOODS ... very exciting it was ...

Well, that was exciting wasn't it kids?!

So after leaving Graeme in the nicer hotel (the one before had cockraoches and dodgy toilets ... not pleasant when you have the squits!), me and Gordy managed to drag ourselves out one morning at the fine time of 6am, to catch a bus to La Tigra.

Strangely, we found the bus almost straight away and set off to the eastern entrance. In Gordy's book it was recommended to walk this 24km, in reality it's 24km of steep constant uphill climb! Even the bus didn't move from 1st gear all the way up! When we finally arrived, we still had to walk 20 minutes up steep paths to merely reach the ranger's lodge! What a shocker! The worst thing was, me and Gordy were breathing heavy, sweating like Scousers in Dixons and being overtaken by 2 local women on their way up to do some work ... not a bead of sweat on their heads and totally in control of their legs and heartbeats. Oh to be fit! By the way, I did meet a sweet 8yr old girl on the bus though. She'd been up since around 5am as she had to get the flour from town (an hour's bus ride) so her mum could make the breakfast etc. She was just returning with roughly 10lbs of flour and was very hungry. It's a different life here ...

Anyway, on with the story. The Park is beautiful. Set on the top of the 2nd highest mountain in Honduras, the clouds envelop the trees and paths giving a real spooky look to the forest. The ranger finally made us pay the US$10 to get into the park, gave us a map and recommended a route that should take about 4 hours.

We set off happily along the path and were soon on the wrong path (again!) and had to be directed back to the right one. The woods closed in around us and we began the slow climb to the top. Just as we turned a corner, Gordy stopped in his tracks , whispered to me, and as I looked around his body, there was a large black cat, oh, about the size of a black Puma sat on the path! It saw us and within 5 seconds had shot off at lightning speed through the trees and down the hill! Fantastic! A real life Puma!

After that the walk was a just a walk in the park. There was the most beautiful bird song echoing around the forest, vines draping down onto the path, and lots of downhill walking (hoorah!) down to a waterfall (well more of a water drip as the rainy season was over, La Cascada isn't as impressive as the ranger will have you believe). It was a nice 3 hour walk, though, to the other side of the reserve and into El Rosario, the ghost town at the other end. The hostel we stayed in there (although US$5) was one of the best we have stayed in! Hot water (when the electriciy is turned on around 7.30pm) and an off licence selling only 1 type of beer, but lots of it, and nuts. Excellent! The only other shop was a cafe run by the ugliest family in the world ever, and we couldn't bring ourselves to eat there, so it was bread and sweaty cheese for the 3rd time that day.

So, after a nice night's sleep next to the forest, we clmabered out of bed, had a hot shower (such luxury!) and headed into town. The road into town is, well, its a rocky path on a slope of roughly 45 degrees, and its about 3-4km down to the next town, a lovely walk down, but i REALLLY feel for those people that had to walk up it from the bus stop! San Juancito is a tiny town where the bus makes it's last stop. It's dusty and run down but friendly enough; unfortunately the bus was leaving in around 3 or 4 hours (or so the locals told us) so we set off walking to the next town Valle del Angeles ... only 14km uphill!

We DID manage to get a ride though, in the most decrepit pick-up truck in the world. It was so rusty and old that the metal casing was actually held together by string and as there was no tread on the tires and the brakes didn't work too well, the driver swung the thing round hairpin corners with sheer drops on one dies [Editor's Note: this typo, which should read 'side' has been left in - interesting Freudian slip] and steep cliffs on the other. Eventually it broke down, and after push starting it for him, we left him and flagged down a brand new pick-up which was excellent! Passed straight thru Valle Del Angeles, which is a cute mountain town, with lots of hotels and restaurants surrounded by pine trees and strangely not in a valley and carried on until the next town.

We left the truck at a crossroads pointing to a famous town with cobbled streets and a view of the valley leading to Tegucigalpa, however we didn't realise it was still another hours walk TO the nice town with the cobbled streets etc. etc. Happily it was hot and sunny and we coasted along waving to locals and getting laughed at by the children. Beautiful little place too. I now see why people would live here ... and why the gringos have all bought the nice houses!

We finally returned to Teguci and met Graeme for coffee, who had finally begun to come around and feel better. We checked back into the hotel and attempted to get some money ... but the bank machine was broken. We're stony broke and there's not another machine for literally 300 miles. Great. Wandering around the square we suddenly heard a bang, a scream and a whole load of people rush past us down the street. Looking around we can see a security guard, holding a gun and pointing at the floor, repeatedly firing it! Of course, being ultra cool, we screamed and legged it. Teguci ... boring city, and damned dangerous! The more i see cities the less I like 'em. Bring on the beaches!