Our ride through Central America (THE LOST FOOTAGE) – PART II (S4:E34) #motovlog

Our ride through Central America (THE LOST FOOTAGE) – PART II (S4:E34) #motovlog

I don’t think I don’t think Rose will put up   with it. I think if we end up in 
like another day like yesterday,   she’s going to call an Uber and take it straight 
to the airport and fly back to Los Angeles. Previously on Two Wheels, Three Sheets, The 
Lost Footage, we successfully recovered our Africa Twin from DHL, before finally 
departing Panama and fleeing north, where we explored the mountains and beaches of 
Costa Rica, continued across the border into Nicaragua for a few days, and eventually into the 
sweltering heat of Honduras, which finds us here. Somewhere along Highway CA3, crossing the 
narrow land bridge of southern Honduras between Nicaragua and El Salvador, 
struggling with failing electronics as we make our way to Choluteca for 
our one and only night in the country. All right. Well, so concludes our one and only 
night in Honduras. The city that we’re in holds   the distinction of being one of the hottest 
in all of Central America. Case in point, yesterday when we were crossing the border from 
Nicaragua, it was so hot and there was no shade that basically all of our electronics failed. The 
phone I used for navigation shut down. The GoPro mounted on my helmet shut down. It wouldn’t 
record anymore. It was that damn hot. So,   um, and to boot, I guess there’s a bunch 
of wildfires somewhere in the mountains around here. So, it’s a bit smoky today as 
well. So, we got that going for us. But, uh, we’re going to say farewell to Honduras and try 
to cross the border into El Salvador once again, uh, and hang out on the beach where it’s just a 
tad cooler hopefully. So, yeah. Ciao, Honduras. Upon checking into our accommodations 
the previous night, we were explicitly warned not to wander far and to 
stay off the streets after dark. Words of caution we took to heart 
after being targeted and followed less than two blocks from our 
room as we searched for dinner. So we wasted no time the next morning making our 
way to the Salvadorian Frontera in El Amatillo, situated on the Pan-American Highway, the 
busiest border crossing by far between nations. Watch out, mama. Watch the stand. Is it on? 
You go jump in the migration line real quick. After running the gauntlet of 
tramitadores ‘helpers’ who for a fee will further complicate matters, 
we stamped out with immigration and proceeded to customs only to discover 
once again that the electricity was out. Yep. So Chad reluctantly enlisted one of the 
helpers to guide us to another customs office somewhere across town where unsurprisingly, there was more runaround required to 
lubricate the gears of bureaucracy. Uh you need to make a one 
copy this. You have a copy? No. Okay. So I got to go back over there 
for a photo copy. God damn it. I make a copy now. Okay, cool. Driving. This is the second time we’ve gone to Aduana and 
they haven’t had electricity at their office. So,   they sent us to another undisclosed 
location somewhere down the road where they have electricity. But now we’re 
just waiting for a photo copy of our TIP. So far, so far, Honduras has 
been the only country that   still requires photocopies. Everybody 
else just does things electronically. Thanks, man. But after tense negotiations, we made our way back to El Amatillo and across 
Rio Goascoran into the Republica de El Salvador where we began the process of stamping 
into Central America’s smallest country. Yeah. Having thoroughly amused the local police, we 
stood in line, paid our fees, and stamped into the country, before navigating customs and 
running a long gauntlet of checkpoints. And if it seems as if we’re spending an inordinate 
amount of time focusing on border crossings, that’s because we are. Since the process 
of crossing borders required an inordinate amount of our time in Central America. Detours 
notwithstanding, the Pan-American Highway spans approximately 3,000 kilometers or 1,800 miles 
from the Mexican border in Guatemala to the end of the road at Panama’s Darian Gap, averaging 
a border crossing every 500 kilometers or 300 miles. Which is why many overlanders, especially 
those intending to merely transit through the subcontinent, elect to skip it altogether 
and ship directly to or from South America. Yeah. El Salvador, Guatemala, Mexico. But in doing so they end up missing some of the 
best beaches and Mesoamerican archaeological sites in all of the Americas, which brings us 
to our first beach in El Salvador, El Cuco. Departing El Cuco, we would continue along 
the Salvadorian coast into Guatemala and the incomparable Antigua before another 
trip across the isthmus into the Petén rain forest and the ancient city of Tikal 
before crossing the border into Belize and finally into the Mexican state of Quintana 
Roo. But first, we would ride the smoky and at times ridiculously congested Highway 2, 
bypassing the capital city of San Salvador and the famous Ruta de las Flores into 
the quaint seaside village of El Zonte. During Chad’s solo ride south in 2018, El 
Salvador was the most dangerous country in Central America due to its extremely high violent 
crime and homicide rates. Today, it is the safest due in no small part to President Nayib Bukele, 
elected in 2019 and his controversial crackdown on gangs and organized crime, boasting a staggering 
70,000 arrests of alleged gang members since his election, driving much of the country’s crime 
syndicate north into Guatemala and Mexico. We set up shop in Punta El Zonte 
Surf Hostel for our final night in the country and did our best to 
soak up as much Pacific surf and sun as possible before departing the 
next morning for the Caribbean coast. Bright and early, we set off for the 
Guatemalan frontera with Antigua in our sights, some 250 kilometers to our north. But fear not, 
we’re not going to bombard you with another 10-minute border montage since this crossing 
may just take the record for the fastest ever. Took us about 3 minutes to check out of El 
Salvador. They stamped us when we were still   on the bike for Aduana and then immigration 
was like a minute. Quickest process ever. Stamping out of El Salvador, we crossed the Rio 
Paz, navigating the ever-present maze of big rigs into the Republica de Guatemala, where we received 
a fresh transit sticker and were unleashed on Central America’s most populous country with over 
18 million calling Guatemala home, including the largest living Maya population in the world. 
With roughly 45% of the country’s population identifying as indigenous, speaking over 20 
distinct languages, making Guatemala one of the most linguistically diverse countries 
in the Americas. But we’ll get into that a bit later after our pit stop in Antigua. Arguably 
the most picturesque and well-preserved colonial city in the Americas. Situated in a highland 
valley ringed by volcanoes, Antigua was the capital city of the Spanish-controlled Capitania 
General de Guatemala. Established in the 1540s, a subdivision of the vice royalty of New Spain, 
consisting of most of Central America and Mexico’s Chiapas. Declared a UNESCO World Heritage 
site in 1979 for its outstanding colonial era architecture. Today, the city is famous 
worldwide for its massive Christmas and Easter celebrations, which attract tens of 
thousands of visitors from around the globe annually. And we just so happened to arrive 
on day one of Semana Santa, the Holy Week, when the colors and traditions of this 
historic city are on full display. Today is Palm Sunday, the first day of the Holy 
Week, and preparations are underway for Good Friday when the Procesion de Jesus Nazareno 
de la Merced carries a centuries old wooden statue of Christ on a giant platform over 
elaborate flower carpets called Alfombras, carefully crafted throughout the week by 
families and religious brotherhoods called Cofradías. And while we would have loved 
to stay in Antigua for the entire week, the clock was ticking. And we were warned that the 
crowds and resulting traffic would only get worse, making it more and more difficult to 
depart the city as the week wore on. So, we did our best to take in as much 
of the festivities during our two short days in Antigua as possible before regrettably 
packing up camp and departing for the chaos of Guatemala City and what would undoubtedly be 
some of the worst traffic we had encountered in our years on the road. Second 
only perhaps to Lima, Peru. Come on, dude. You still alive? I don’t know. I don’t know? I don’t know. This is uh this is the worst traffic. And heat. And heat I’ve ever encountered in my life. I stopped sweating like an hour ago. Uh-oh. After a very long and hot day battling traffic 
across Guatemala’s Carretera Al Atlantico, we crossed the Rio Dulce and made our way into San Felipe de Lara for the night where 
bright and early the next morning. Here’s hoping today is a bit more mellow 
than was yesterday. I don’t think I don’t   think Rose will put up with it. I think if 
we end up in like another day like yesterday, she’s going to call an Uber and take it straight 
to the airport and fly back to Los Angeles. We packed up, set off, and 
immediately got a flat tire. I don’t know that I’m going 
to be able to patch that. With the puncture landing directly on the seam 
of the tube, Chad elected to use our spare. Not exactly how I wanted to start the day. After about 30 minutes, for the equivalent 
of about $3 US, we were back on the road, making our way north toward Parque National 
Tikal, our final stop in Guatemala. But less than an hour up the highway, Chad could 
feel the telltale wobble of another flat. The [ __ ] God. And we don’t have a tube. So with two damaged tubes, he broke 
out the patch kit and went to work amongst the trash and rubble lining highway CA13. We had no less than a dozen different ADV 
riders passing us completely kitted out. GS’s, uh, Triumphs, you name it. Not a single one 
stopped. I I always stop for other motorcyclists to see if they’re okay, even if I can’t help, 
you know. I always stop and offer them water, you know, but uh, no, nothing. Hmm, 
do better. Do better, ADV community. Unable to set the bead with our failing pump,   we slowly made our way up the highway 
to another shop where they used their compressor in an attempt to pop our Anakee 
Adventure onto the rim. And pop it did. What happened? The patch blew trying to set the bead. But likely due to some sort of divine 
intervention. The shop just so happened to have a 21-inch tube. So, after a few 
more dollars and a lot of frustration, we were finally fully 
inflated and back on the road. A couple hours later than expected, we arrived 
at the heavily fortified Tikal National Park where we made our way to the lone campground 
within park boundaries in an effort to get a jump on the hordes of tour buses that descend 
upon Guatemala’s most popular national park every day at 900 a.m. So, we set up camp and 
settled in for what would be an early morning, quickly lulled to sleep by the soothing, 
territorial chorus of howler monkeys overhead. I can hear your stomach growling. Oh, that is not my stomach. 
Are you sure we should be here? We just had roosters and peacocks to worry about 
before. Now they’re going to be waking us up. What do you mean waking us 
up? I’m not going to sleep. Tikal, once home to an 
estimated 75,000 at its peak, was one of the most powerful 
city states in the Maya world. Only about 30% of the city has been unearthed. The remainder entombed beneath 
centuries of thick jungle. So this is what a structure looks like once 
it’s been excavated. And this is what the backside looks like when it’s not been excavated. 
It’s just a mound with trees growing out of it. A sacred city fortified by military 
might, Tikal commanded a large army and often waged war against its rival 
cities of Calakmul about 100 kilometers to the north in modern-day Mexico and Caracol 
120 kilometers southwest in modern-day Belize, until the city was gradually abandoned 
likely due to drought, famine, and disease, sometime during the 10th century after 700 
years as a dominant force in the region. Oh yeah, Something stung my lip this morning. I don’t 
know what the hell it was. My lips ballooned up. And after a few short hours 
exploring these amazing ruins, we abandoned Tikal just as throngs of 
tourists began laying siege on the city before packing up and departing for the 
Belizean Frontera some 2 hours away. Making our way to Melchor de Mencos, one of 
only two official border crossings between Guatemala and Belize, we started the familiar 
process of paying miscellaneous and sundry fees, exchanging cash, locking up and 
stamping out of the country. After which we crossed Rio Mopan, 
were ceremoniously deloused and jumped in the long line to clear 
Belizean immigration and customs. All right, so kind of a strange situation. 
Apparently the TIP for a motorcycle in Belize   uh comes in the form of a stamp in your passport, 
but unfortunately I don’t have any more room in my passport for a stamp. So they had to stamp Rose’s 
passport with the TIP for the motorcycle that’s under my name. So hopefully that doesn’t create 
any problems when we try to leave Belize. That’s the thing that sometimes uh customs agents can get 
a little finicky about. But at least we’re in. So. Passport. Yes, sir. Where are you guys going? What are we doing? So where are you guys going? Oh god. I wish I knew, man. Probably to hell. Oh no. Don’t say that, man. Don’t say that. You have to pick the right song. 
You have to pick Highway to Hell. Highway to Hell. That’s the theme, our theme song. We only have a couple days. So, we’re 
going to go check out some ruins and   then we got to get to Mexico on the 30th. 
So, we only have a couple days to be here. Ok, nice. Yeah, you’re going 
to like the ruins here. Yeah, I hope so. We’ve been 
to Belize before. We like it. Oh, you’ve been here? Oh, yeah. We went to the Keys and scuba 
dive Blue Hole and everything. Well, so it’s not your first time here? No. No. You You’ll figure it out. Thank you, brother. Have a good one. Same to you, man. Officially unleashed on our seventh and 
last country in Central America. We had only to obtain insurance for the motorcycle 
before crossing the Mopan once again and proceeding to the small and beautiful 
archaeological site of Xunantunich. Rosie loves her some stairs. Xunantunich, or Stone Woman in Yucatec 
Maya is named for an apparition of a woman dressed in white said to 
frequent these hallowed grounds. Oh man, it’s a hell of a view up here. 
Not bad at all. A lot of stairs though. And it’s humid, dripping with sweat, 
but well worth it for the view. Part of the Maya Mountain cultural region 
and debatably a military outpost of Caracol, the cultural capital and sworn enemy of Tikal, the two most dominant and powerful 
city-states in the Maya world. We departed both the ruins and the tarmac, making 
our way to Clarissa River Camp for the night, where we were immediately attacked by a turkey. I’m wearing body armor, homie. Calm down, you. Hey! We’re leaving in a tent down by the river. We set off the next morning and started making 
our way north, choosing to bypass the nation’s capital and most populous city, Belize City, 
which we had previously visited in 2018. We hung a left in Hattieville, passing the 
country’s one and only prison where in 2020, in the midst of a strict COVID lockdown, 
a massive riot broke out and 28 prisoners, having overpowered and disarmed the guards,   managed to escape. The largest 
prison break in the nation’s history. Morning. Morning. Morning. How are you? What’s good? Can I see your driver license 
and insurance for cycle? Yeah. Where are you guys heading to? Uh the ruins. Ruins. Altun Ha? Yeah. There’s the insurance. Very good, sir. Thank you very much. Thank you. Narrowly avoiding ending up incarcerated 
ourselves, we pushed on to Altun Ha. Just 50 kilometers outside Belize city. It is the nation’s 
most accessible and popular archaeological site as well as the find spot of Belize’s most 
prized artifact, the head of Kinich Ahau, a jade depiction of the Maya sun god discovered 
inside a burial chamber deep inside this temple in 1968. Home to Mopan and Yucatec Maya, this 
city served as a ceremonial and trading hub, choosing commerce over conflict with its 
waring neighbors of Tikal and Caracol. Departing Altun Ha and the pavement once again, 
we went in search of somewhere to camp for our final night in Belize. Making our way to Crooked 
Tree, a historic Creole settlement surrounded by a network of lagoons, creeks, and swamps where 
we just so happened across a campsite of sorts. As far as campsites go, certainly the not the 
most picturesque we’ve stayed in. This is kind of an interesting little campsite that I 
don’t think is utilized very much aside   from maybe uh dumping trash and I guess 
storing old mattresses from the lodge. Looks like someone’s been sleeping in 
here. Here we got some beer bottles. Hopefully this isn’t a 
local uh a local party spot. Yeah, our final day in Central America 
before we hit Mexico. Fingers crossed that there are no issues at the border since it is the 
Saturday before Easter. We’ll see. Wish us luck. T-minus 2 days until our family’s arrival 
in Cancun. We packed up and set off for the frontera in Santa Elena. The only official 
land border crossing between Mexico and Belize, Central America’s smallest and, as you 
probably noticed, only English-speaking nation. 7 point 65. A legacy of the country’s British colonial 
rule when it was known as British Honduras. You already cancel the stamp? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah It’s all done. Immigration and customs? Yep. Total. Thank you. And while we wish our departure from 
Central America was a bit more sensational, it was rather anticlimactic. 
So, after one final checkpoint, we enter the concrete canyon of the 
heavily fortified Mexican border for our last foreign border crossing, after 
years exploring Latin America on two wheels. All right. Welcome to Mexico, baby! So happy. We’re out of Central America. We’re in the ‘Mex’. I’m so incredibly happy right now. You weren’t happy 5 minutes ago. No, I wasn’t. But look what 5 minutes does. You’re all sorts of crazy. But my good mood was short-lived. This 
just so happened to be Holy Saturday and the immigration office was absolutely 
packed with families traveling for Easter. And while generally we would avoid 
border crossings on days like these, our family was likewise descending on Mexico 
for the holidays, due to arrive bright and early Monday morning. And we were planning 
to pick them up at the airport in Cancun. 4 hours later! Or maybe not. New registration. No entiendo. Unbeknownst to us at the time, Banjercito, the 
agency that issues temporary import permits, was able to verify that our license plate number 
was no longer in the California DMV database, due to the fact that we had imported 
the motorcycle into Chile 5 years prior and were currently riding 
on an expired California tag. So, As it turns out, we might not be going to Mexico 
after all. At least not on our Africa Twin. Be sure to tune in in two weeks time to 
see if and how we make it into Mexico. And if you’d like to help support the channel. Rose just took one of those right in the butt. Check the link for our Patreon account in 
the video description or keep binge watching and check out this past episode 
by clicking here. And of course, don’t forget to like, subscribe, 
and share with your friends. We’re Two Wheels, Three Sheets, 
and we thank you for your support.

Arriving in Honduras, Chad and Rose press northward – exploring the sun-soaked beaches of El Salvador, the iconic cities and ancient Maya ruins of Guatemala, and the winding backroads of Belize. Their journey leads them to the Mexican border, where unexpected legal troubles with their Africa Twin threaten to derail their ride into Mexico.

NOTE – Most of our footage through Central America and Mexico was LOST on a corrupted hard drive. This video includes some of the footage we were able to recover.

#motovlog #africatwin

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