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Hello world! Okay, first thing to do here is to restore some ancient blog artifacts.

In 1997, I built a website for Dragoman, the adventure travel company, in return for a 3 month road trip through Central America. En route, we published an online travelogue onto the Dragoman site so that our friends and families back home could keep up to date with our adventures.

We found the odd internet cafe, even a couple with a scanner to digitize some of the Polaroid photos we’d taken. But mostly it was a big challenge to find computers with a modem and an internet connection.

The most memorable deployment was in Tegucigalpa, hiding behind a false wall in a small bookstore, trying to upload HTML files at a baud rate somewhere around the speed of morse code. In Tegucigalpa in 1997, there was a waiting list to get phone numbers because the local exchange only had 5 digits to play with. The owner of the shop explained that whenever a local died, there was a rush to get the phone number, so it’s really hard to get connected to the internet. “Some people around here would kill for an internet connection!”

This is possibly the first ever group travel blog, lost many years ago to some website redesign but re-published here again in it’s original glory.

One objective of this is to find and reunite all the wonderful people who were on that fateful trip, the Central American Explorer which departed Panama City on 6th November 1997.

My second objective; as part of the restoration process I will be embedding some digital maps showing parts of the trip, in an attempt to find the best digital map trip widget out there. I have recently been working on such a thing at Lonely Planet, so we’ll start with that:

Here’s all the Dragoman posts.

Written by Ron, our man in Guatemala

Four weeks ago, I flew into Panama City with no real ideas about what i was about to experience. Tomorrow, not by choice, I leave the group to return to my own part of the world. This is an attempt to detail from my point of view some of the defining moments of the Los Conquistadores trip:

• The first night, swimming in the very warm pacific waters, while a spectacular lightning display played over Panama City two hours away. Even though it was the same ocean that I swim in at home, it was clear to me that I was in another world.
• The Pope! Who would have thought that on a Costa Rican backroad we would almost force the PopeMobile off the road?
• Music. A couple of recurring musical themes were established very early in the trip: El Condor Pasa courtesy of Marianne, Y.M.C.A. and Abba courtesy of Elisabeth and JoJo, and the Dutch National Anthem (Helmet Song) courtesy of Catrien soon became entrenched in the trip mythology. Particularly defining moments came later in the trip when assorted restaurants were cleared because of renditions of any or all of the above.
• Diving. Resting on the bed of the ocean watching the others descend towards you through the turquoise clear waters, then seeing the looks of achievement and absolute pleasure on the faces of Orla and Caroline as they hauled themselves back into the boat half an hour later.
• Sunsets. In particular at West End, Roatan, and the Sunset Cafe, Lakje Atitlan. Group members gathered together at the end of the day for a quick drink and a few moments of reflection. But even more spectacular sitting in a sea kayak off-shore from the Bay Islands watching the sun dip into the Caribbean.
• Volcanos. Ten of us huddled together behind the volcanic rock 2,500m above sea level on the lip of the crater of the the active volcano Pacaya, gale force winds so strong we couldn’t stand up and visibility of 2 metres – we really knew we were alive.
• Jungles. First thing in the morning, walking through tropical rainforests. The sounds, the heat, the sights, the insects, the colours, the smells.
• Bushcamping. On top of a hill overlooking San Juan del Sur. Perfect bay, perfect views for 360 degrees, my tent pitched on the edge of a cliff with penthouse vista, campfire and good company. Great!
• Roofseats. Not only good fun and a great way to travel, but a fantastic way to hear the sounds, smell the smells, and interact with local people. It’s hard to forget the smiles, waves, and whistles of the very friendly local people as we pass. Searching for a bushcamp off the beaten track one afternoon, it occurred to me that I was probably one of the only Australians ever to have passed that way before. The others were on the truck with me.
• The people / the parties. Never before have I travelled with a group of people who mixed so well, looked out for each other, and partied so eagerly. Whether on the truck, in a restaurant, on top of a hill, by a campfire, each minute was memorable.

So there you have it, some defining moments from my point of view. There were 14 other passengers on this trip, all of whom will have their own special memories and I’m sure that they will be only too happy to tell you what a fantastic time it has been – just ask them

Written by Orla Nad Ron with bits by Bob

Moist, windy, dark, cloudy, cold, insane, but mostly windy. We were huddled together, lying flat on our backs. To offer the wind any angle of elevation would be to risk being blown over the edge. We were on the top of an active volcano, it was nearly dark, and it was very windy. I could just about make out what Jim said – “Where’s the helpful guide?” or something like that …

Following the previous night’s group meal and one or two beers, the ten volcano climbers were subdued as we boarded the small bus bound for Volcan Pacaya. We were told to being water, food, warm clothes and a torch. We set off at lunchtime, packed tight for two hours of a bumpy ride to the musical accompanyment of plinkity-plonk zylophone music.

There was spectacular scenery as we left the city and headed up through the hills to Base Camp, a small village called San Francisco. As we started the climb, the group gradually became quieter as we concentrated on the climbing. After about an hour’s climb we left all signs of folliage and wildlife and started climbing the gravel side of the volcano.

At this stage the wind started to pick up and around and above us white clouds raced across the sky. The final stage of the ascent had us crawling up loose scree and rocks with the wind screaming in our ears while being sand-blasted by gravel-filled gusts. A free facial scrub on the side of a volcano was an unexpected hidden extra.

As we neared the crater the clouds seemed all around us and the landscape was lunar, or Lord of the Rings style. Hot from climbing uphill, cold from the freezing wind, wet from the cloud moisture, we whooped, cheered, and danced at the crater edge. The force of the wind soon put a stop to that and after a group photo, the ten were huddled on the ground behind a clump of rock.

This was the wierdest sensation as we quickly realised that the ground was hot – hot bots and everything else freezing cold. We was the red glow of the lava at the crater. The only one with common sense on the crater’s edge at that time was the local guide who scarpered down the hill, leaving us to the mercy of the volcano gods.

When we realised than an overnight stop was not an option, we commenced the stagger of the lemmings down the volcano side (we hoped). The descent was a surreal experience as we skieds, skidded and slid down the precipitous slope. Marianne and Lea took a more novel approach and had to be treated for gravel rash of the bot later.

While the visibility before was 2 metres, it disappeared altogether at the advent of nightfall. Still no sign of the local guide as we fished out our torches and continued the descent. Conversation dropped to an absolute minimum consisting of “Are you okay?”, “Who are you?”, “Ouch my boots are full of gravel”, “I need a pee but it’s too windy!”, “Where’s the volcano guide?”

After an indeterminable period, we finally reached the base, some of us nearly sleep-walking the final stage. Climbing onto the bus our final words before unconsciousness set in were “Turn off the music.”

In spite of the narrative, giving the impression that the climb was horrendous, it was in fact the opposite. Intense, exhillarating, and we’d all do it again tomorrow (well maybe not tomorrow …)

Reporting for Dragoman News, Elisabeth Poly

A day long awaited by us all – shopping in the market of Chichicastenango. We took off from Panajachel early in the morning, on a very clear sunny day which gave us a splendid view of the Lake Atitlan and its volcanoes. As the drivers made an impressive job of giving us a smooth ride through very winding roads, we sat quietly planning our purchases and counting out quetzales.

The look on everybody’s faces when driving into Chichicastenango was of excitement with $$$ signs flashing in their eyes. Before rushing out of the truck, a time limit was decided. The girls wanted 5 hours, and the boys only 1. The girls won.

The market was absolutely amazing. We were overwhelmed by all the different colours, the traditional costumes and the various stalls. The only downside for me, being French, was meeting other French tourists for the first time in many weeks.

Every child tries to sell you some Guatemalan Worry Dolls. Traditionally, the doll will help you get rid of your worries, a bit like drinking Ron y Coke.

Bob has now got two official friends – JoJo and myself, whom he bought colourful friendship bracelets for. At lunchtime, while most of us went to rest our feet in cafes/restaurants, Katrine went to join the local people for the All Saints Day celebrations in the cemetary.

On the way back, the truck resembled a mini Chichi market, with everyone comparing their purchases and trying to work out who got the best bargain. The conclusions were: Bob bought the most of any one item. Caroline bought the most items. There was a dead heat between Caroline and Jo for the most money spent.

Jim had an exciting time watching the Mexico vs. United States World Cup qualifier (final score 0-0, U.S. down to ten men, Mexico qualify, U.S. wait).

When we finally got back to Panajachel, we did some more shopping there even though our bargaining skills had vanished. Finally we all met up to watch the sun set, sipping our daily ron y cocas. C’est la vie!

Written by Marianne

I attained my diving certificate in Holland. How surprised I was that actually you can go diving in Roatan without a hood, a thick wetsuit and gloves. This is a paradise compared to the seas of Holland.

I was even more surprised that I could see my own hands under the water so visibility must be very good over hear. After I discovered all this, I started to explore Roatan’s extremely beautiful underwater world: endless reef, turtles, rays, lobsters, angelheart fish, and thousands, more fishes of all varieties and different colours. So beautiful that you even sometimes forget to breathe in.

Excellent DiveMasters took us avery day to different places: Mandy’s Eel Garden, Herby’s Fantasy, Hole in the Wall, and the Bear’s Den to name but a few. Diving in Roatan is different every day, and every dive is more spectacular than the last.

Oh, and before I forget, diving in Roatan is very dangerous – you can get addicted to it!

Written by Ron, our man in Costa Rica

After a couple of hectic days based in San Jose featuring white-water rafting, jungle bashing and fast city living, we were facing up to the possibility of having to stay awake until the early hours to get the best view of Volcan Arenal doing its thing.

This was the preparation: various combinations of the group ventured forth into the city to taste the local cuisine with a plan to meet at a local bar later for drinks. For some it became evident that when ordering from a menu something gets lost in the translation. Sopa de vegetales conjoured up images of fresh vegetable soup but turned out to be a few cabbage leaves with hot water poured over them.

Undeterred, and having fully lined their stomachs with soggy cabbage, we set off for the trendy El Pueblo, which is a collection of restaurants, bars, nightclubs and shops not far from the city centre. El Pueblo had been recommended to us by the rafting guide and Jo and Caroline had forced themselves to go and check it out the night before (for the good of the whole group), although the fact that the rafting guide was to have been there may have had something to do with their philanthropic attitude.

Soon the protection of the cabbage wore off and many of the group took to the garden and began an international dance-fest of their own. Sort of Riverdance meets Zorba the Greek without coreography.

Some cervezas later we headed for a nightclub where Lea, JoJo, Marianne and Elisabeth cleared the dancefloor with a sort of salsa twist. Catrin was checking out the local culture, Bill was looking confused and Yuko was looking for Bill.

At the end of the night we all got taxis safely back to the hotel and our preparation for the volcano was complete.

The next morning the memories of the previous night’s excesses were clouded and shrouded in mist and hangovers intact, we left San Jose for Volcan Arenal through pretty countryside. For those awake, we were amazed to see the PopeMobile, escourted by police and Hells Angels on motorcycles (this was not our imagination, it has since been confirmed as true).

Anyway, thus blessed we approached the volcano. As we did, the sky cleared giving us perfect views. Super-impressive. Huge plume of smoke rising out of the top, smoke oozing out of the vents on the side, and to top it all off, just as we were setting up camp at the volcano base, huge rumbles and explosions and magma streaming down the side.

As it got dark, the weather got the better of us, and we lost the view. For the second time in 24 hours things were clouded and shrouded in mist.

Written by Caroline

After a busy night out in San Jose sampling the local karaoke bars, the more adventurous of our group roused themselves at the early hour of 6am to spend the day white-water rafting somewhere in the Costa Rican jungle.

After a brief breakfast stop en route at a restaurant with the most amazing views we arrived at the river. Our guides proved to be a lively bunch. Kevin, Andres, a rather attractive young man in a kayak and our guide Roberto whose catch phrase proved to be “Come to the back of my boat baby and relax”.

They gave us a comprehensive safety talk where we learned the maneuvers needed to have a safe journey and set off. However, after approximately 30 seconds we got stuck on a rock where we got our first chance to practice our bouncey technique (everyone bounces up and down to free the boat).

This successfully completed, we continued on for perhaps 2 minutes before we expertly beached ourselves on a rock the size of a … very large rock. We bounced up and down energetically and tried everyone going to the left side, right side, front and back of the raft (baby), then we gave up, leaving Roberto and the kayak man to free it using ropes. Then we jumped back in and had a fairly hectic time steering ourselves through some fierce looking rapids.

However, the other boat got stuck soon afterwards so we all had to get out onto the riverside and wait for them to free the raft. Roberto managed a spot of meditation on yet another rock before going on to help the others free their boat. Half an hour later we returned and set off again.

Following Roberto’s expert instructions (‘get in and relax baby’), we steered ourselves through some more brilliant water, getting soaked to the skin. During one hectic moment, Jo decided to take a swim but she was quickly hauled aboard by our expert guide Roberto.

At around 12 we stopped for lunch at a nice spot on the river. A brief crisis occured when we realized that we had cigarettes aplenty but no lighter and our hero Roberto ran all the way up the hill to buy one.

Following the morning’s excitement of the Grade 4 rapids, the calm waters of the afternoon’s stretch of river gave us a welcome chance to tell jokes and admire the lush jungle which rose steeply on each side of the crystal clear water.

The clear water was not to last however, when we left the tributary and joined the main river, which was a lovely toffee colour. The water here was fresher and had large waves and deep holes. Kevin steered us backwards into several of these which was fun and also paddled us in circles so we span around really fast on the rapids which was brilliant.

Kevin pointed out all the interesting things like the efforts which had been made to shore up the river banks with stones to keep it on course and the area which they are going to dam for a hydro-electric power station.

At about 4pm we reached the end of our trip, soaked to the bone, we went to a restaurant and changed into our dry clothes and stopped on the way back for a nice cold beer. Most people slept on the bus on the way back and an early night was had by all.

Written by JoJo, typed by Marianne

A quick glance at the tourist town of Quepos got us all in the mood for Manuel Antonio Parque Nacional, a small park consisting of beaches, jungles, rivers, and wildlife.

Our camp was on the edge of the park and some of the wildlife was in our camp for the evening. Firstly we had a visit from some racoons, lizards and a few smaller creepy crawlies. Later with the help of some local firewater (can spirit) we created some wildlife of our own at the bar.

We had our own Karaoke bar happening (Peter showed us some hidden talent) plus many forms of drinking games turned normally sedate folks WILD. Caroline decided that she was a marathon swimmer and tried to swim to Australia so she took along her camera, watch, money & clothes. Unfortunately she forgot to bring them back. In the morning we were amazed to see her emmerging from her tent, wearing her jeans, T-shirt, half the beaches sand and a coconut???

Others had terrible trouble finding their own tents but some gentle directions from fellow travellers saw them home.

A leisurely breakfast set the pace for the day with groups wandering off during the morning for walks through the park. A small creek crossing at the entrance was a fun way to start the walk and help keep us cool.

The beaches were pure paradise with most of the group spending a lot of time in or on them during the day. Wildlife was plentiful with many sightings of monkeys (many of which tried to share our lunch), IGUANA’S, assorted birds, spiders, crabs, and some beautiful butterflies.

The highlight for me was seeig a twotoed sloth making its way across a creek. They move like they are in slow motion and it was an experience to watch it in action.

The jungle was a tropical forest with huge palms, ferns, hard wood, a variety of funghi, flowering orchids, mangroves criss crossed by streams and waterfalls.

Some magnificent views of the islands were seen from the top of the circular walk through the forrest and after the slippery trip down the hill, a swim in one of the beaches was more than welcome.

Leaving the park was also interesting as the tide had come in and our creek had become a river and an enterprising young local offered boatrides across for 100 colomes (50c) per person, not too bad if you think that in peak season the park has approx 600 visitors per day.

A quiet afternoon was spent by most at the beach or writing postcards and diaries etc., whilst a few more adventurous cuasght local transport into town and spent the afternoon sipping cervesas and chatting to locals.

The evening got under way at a local restaurant where the group enjoyed good food, good beer, excellent bloody marys, entertainment by out 11 year old waiter Andreas, and many laughs whilst being analysed by Bob (our own shrink). Most then retired as a result of such a hectic day (typical of Central America) while a few others spent more time on the beach stargazing. “It’s a difficult life?!?!”

A morning in Quepos shopping and resting saw some purchase of some “Marraccus” and the formation of the musical group “Las quatro amigas mucho locco” and as we left Quepos for San Jose the truck reverberated with the sounds of “La Cucaracha” as we continued our Central American Adventure.

Your roving reporter, Jo Topham

Having spent four and a half hours driving from Bochete and listening to Jim’s inimitably stylish collection of Johnny Cash, we arrived at Esquinas Lodge.

It is, and I quote, “an enchanting oasis surrounded by the exuberant wilderness of Costa Rica’s newest national park, only a stone’s throw away from the Costa Rican jungle.” For once the brochure did not lie.

The lodge is run and partly funded by the Austrian government a part of a programme of study into the wildlife and its habitat in the rainforest. It is a non-profit making organisation that improves the local people’s standard of living by investing in eco-tourism as a means to counteract the current trend towards deforestation.

Our guide, Jose Angel, was brilliant. He was able to show us the wildlife that is being preserved, such as the various hardwood trees, which is currently being replaced in other parts of the country with an unsuitable fast growing tree. He was able to offer us lots of information including the fact that the frog which a fellow passenger had been kissing on Saturday night was deadly, and she would have been a goner had she licked her hands clean at any point. Caroline: “Ooooh! kissy kissy. Look, it’s urinating because it’s scared.” No Caroline, it’s trying to kill you.

Some of the plant life was almost science fiction. Take the walking tree for example. It has leaves, a trunk, bark… and feet. Should it need to take a stroll it simply lifts one rooted foot, slides it across and replants (sic) it. A most excellent arbol.

The best part of exploring the area was not the tour walk. Fifteen loud, clomping pairs of feet scared off the rarer creatures. More of an adventure was had on the quiet wanders. Ron helped (or hindered?) the local farmer to round up his escaped pigs while others (on a cigarette hunt) encountered what we think is a bushmaster snake, several lizards that walk on water, and iguanas.

It is possible to meet the local people, although in the nearby village Caroline and I were regarded as local curios. Can you recall an advertisement which features two girls in a village, a water pump and a certain bottle of shampoo and conditioner combined?

Monday morning and we’re heading off to Manuel Antonio national park. Monday afternoon and we’d like to be going somewhere now please Jim. The battery went flat (thankyou Bosch) so we tried to see if fifteen people could push a ten ton truck up a hill. As if. Or start it by rocking it back and forth. Nope. But in the seemingly genericly relaxed Costa Rican attitude, we were told “No hay problema” because we could just jump start off a jeep. There was not enough charge. But “No hay problema” because we could start it off a tractor. The farmer had taken the battery out and gone into town. Finally, “No hay problema” and a new battery was found.

This place was the business and well worth every minute (the dangerous and the ridiculous). As they say here, “PURA VIDA!!!”