I'm stuck at the Brewery and I can't leave

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I didn't know exactly where the brewery was. My Lonely Planet book said that it was on the west side of Lake Yojoa near Peña Blanca. A lot of good that discription was, Peña Blanca wasn't even on my map. I pulled off the highway at what looked like the small road that went around the lake and proceeded to look for a sign that said D & D Brewery and Hotel. What a stupid name for a place in Honduras, I thought. How will I even ask directions to this place?

Eventually, as the road seemed to be going away from the lake, I pulled off at a gas station to ask directions. I envisioned myself sitting on a deck overlooking the lake drinking micro-brews while seeing the mountains of the cloud forest in the distance. I could not be going away from the lake. Three Honduras were splitting a 2 liter bottle of Coke in the back of a pick-up truck. One guy was pouring the Coke into empty beer bottles to use as cups. I asked, "Ustedes conocen una cervezaria y hotel?" One of the guys said yes and that he lived next to it, and told me he was going there and that I could follow him on my motorcycle. He finished dividing up the Coke into the beer bottles and we were off.

Now, let me explain, we were already NOT on a major, but when we turned off the road onto an even smaller road and through a small pueblo, I thought, we can't be going in the right direction. We made a few more turns and then he pointed to a dirt path. And told me the brewery was down the road. Now (1) this seemed impossible that anyone opening a micro-brewery in Honduras for tourists would build it in such an obscure and hard to find place, but (2) there was a sign that said: D & D Brewery.

I pulled into the parking lot (when I say parking lot, I mean small patch of gravel) and looked around. My dreams of sitting out over the lake drinking beer were shattered. I was in the middle of a dense dark forest probably 2 miles from the lake. An SUV pulled in behind me and a skinny white guy with a shaved head about my age or younger got out, nodded his head at me and said, "welcome." He asked me if I was staying the night. I told him I wanted to. He told me they were very full tonight but that I should come down (the path) to the kitchen and have a beer while they tried to find a place for me to sleep.

I sat at a table in the outdoor resturant drinking an amber ale (btw: diversity in beer is almost unheard of in Guatemala or Honduras), under a tin roof, surrounded by a garden of trees with humming birds fluttering around. A sign on a post next to me said "Beer and Birds". The skinny, shaved head, white guy (whoes name is Bobby) came back out and told me that they were increadibly full, but they didn't like to turn people away, so they would work something out. "We will talk later, I'm going out on a boat," he said, and he turned and left.

Later in the day, a teenager/boy/kid in his early 20's (I really don't know how old) asked if the motorcycle in the lot was mine. We chatted about bikes for a while, his was parked next to mine, but he really liked my bike. The locals uaually really do like my bike--it is big by Central American standards and it has a classic look. I got the sense real quickly that this guy (who just finished his shift as bar tender) was happy to have a friend. He offered to show me the back roads and we could go through the cloud forrest. This sounded pretty good to me. We took off, and right away I knew something was wrong with my bike. The chain was almost dragging on the ground. The sprocket was barely attached to the back wheel. I told him I couldn't continue. He said, (in Spanish of course) "Maybe just five minutes." He was pretty desperate to hang out with someone and was pretty unaware that my back tire was barely attached.

I was in the middle of no-where in Honduras, on a broken down 1980 motorcycle. Nobody has carried part for this bike for probably 10-20 years. The nearest city was 50 miles away, and it was Saturday, tomorrow everything would be closed.

And this is the story of how I got stuck in a micro-brewery/hotel/bird watching Mecca near a cloud forest in the mountains of Honduras. Let's be honest, it wasn't a bad place to be stuck. The story of how I spent Sunday is to come, if I ever get around to writing it.

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Comments

[Shanna]

Should I mail bike parts to you?? ;)

[sarah]

nice
You rock Phil, good luck on the rest of the trip. keep me posted.

[Aunt Elaine]

Dang it Phil!
You've left me on the edge of my seat. I'm dying to know just where the heck you are now or are you still sitting around drinking beer & watching birds? Inquiring minds want to know... You're the greatest! Love ya!