As we entered El Salvador, about the most crowded of the Central American states, and quite prosperous, we were immediately hit by the greater concentration of traffic.  Gone were the nippy little 150s, replaced by bumper to bumper SUVs.  Gone were the traditional Mayan costumes.  Gone were the streams of ladies carrying stacked up wares on their heads.  This could have been any town in England. We’ve been on the road now 8 1/2 months, the last 4 in Central America. We noticed that we were getting a bit browned off with our tourism options too.  “Shall we go and see X?”   Well, maybe not; it’s going to be very similar to the last three Xs we’ve recently seen:

• Historic, charming, cobbled, cities of the Spanish Empire – check.
• Elegant or elaborated catholic church – check.
• Colourful local market – check.
• Mayan ruin – check and check again.
• Pre-Columbian anthropological museum – check.
• National museum of country since independence – even these are getting a bit samey.
• Beach with warm blue sea – check, although it never truly palls.
• Volcano hike – Clare sez never again!
• Souvenir shops – Gid has seen enough and more.
• Weaving School – Still some potential
• Spanish School – Not yet ready for more, are we?

Which was one reason we sort of dipped out of El Salvador. Our fault, not its. We made the mistake of crossing into El Salvador without a plan, other than noting that the obvious way south was initially the much promoted “Ruta de Flores”.  We did follow said ruta, but without the intended excursions into charming side-towns it was a pretty unspecial kind of ruta.  Reasonably smooth, vaguely bendy, sort of nice countryside, though not many flores to be seen. 

And briefly – after it, i.e. at lunchtime, we decided to bomb across this small country to the southeast, and try for a birdwatching boat tour near Jiquilisco in El Salvador’s largest estuary, an Unesco Biosphere reserve.  The boats went, apparently, from Puerto de Triunfo.  Google showed one hotel, which usually means there’s three or more local joints that would give us a convenience walking distance to the ferry. We ignored Lonely Planet’s 2018 advice to skip the town.

When we arrived in the afternoon, the dockside had proved hard to negotiate on the bikes.  The queue of traffic behind us was impatient as were the traffic controllers.  They only wanted to grab the parking fee, but we didn’t want to park. We were looking for an hotel and no-one had time to listen to us.   There was a cacophony of people wanting something, be it official or commercial but mainly – get out of the way!  Both Google and LP were right, there was only one hotel.  We eventually we found it in the gathering darkness tucked behind a bingo hall. It was physically good enough.  The owner seemed fine until we said one night, maybe two – her face fell.  The following morning she rather gruffly announced that we had to be out by 8am or pay a day fee, lousing up our plan of researching the boat trip early by foot and possibly staying another night.

We groused, cleared out quickly, and made a new plan certain now that we would also advise people to miss this place.  Back to the west! That sounds crazy, but we had always planned to enter and exit El Salvador in the west.  With a direct route from Guatemala into El Salvador there was little choice and Copan, possibly the best ruin site in Central America, in western Honduras wasn’t to be missed, requiring a return to the west (few travellers would voluntarily go through the border paperwork again to save a few miles). We’d visit El Salvador’s seaside instead.

Fortunately, both LP and our hostel host in Antigua had agreed that El Tunco was a nice beach village, with a strong surfing flavour.  So we set a GPS pin for there and off we went. An easy ride on a good road, until they decided to dig it all up in La Libertad. That was a very sweaty last 20 miles. But reaching El Tunco, in need of a bed, we lucked right out. Pulling over when we saw three different hotel signs on one bend, Gid disappeared on foot. Two were pricey, shiny concrete boxes for prosperous tourists. Number three was great, locally owned, been there years, day access for locals and kids, big pool, basic restaurant, chickens, dogs, cats and children running loose. A palm shaded aircon room less than half the price of the previous two.

The beach only metres away was great – firm sand, nice little warm waves, free loan of bodyboard.  Local fishing boats launched off the beach in the late afternoon returning in time for breakfast.  The night’s catch was loaded onto trucks in cool boxes.  Our hotel was the first stop.  A carefully selected basket full of fish hanging under the scales couldn’t have been fresher.

And did we say it was a beautiful beach?

I managed a 5K run by doing five laps of the beach, then succumbed to a cold – in this heat!   Thereafter a daily stroll into the surf-dude nearby village for basic groceries was all I could manage. We stopped four nights. One evening was enlivened by a helicopter and lots of soldiers, as El President used a spare field next to our hotel for a visit to – something or someone. El Salvador was redeemed.

But we still legged it to the Honduras border, even though these borders are always horribly tedious, completing the paperwork for the bikes. Hmmm – we could have gone straight from Guatemala to Honduras, saving one border – but El Tunco was nice, even with a cold. We barely scratched the surface of El Salvador’s beauty and interest.

So, what are we left to do in Central America, the countries of Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama? We have to recapture our mojo. Maybe some more nature hikes, because we really are in the jungle a lot of the time.  We’ve not been very successful at beastie spotting so far but what are we scared of?

• Bandits?
• Armed guards?
• Getting lost?
• Volcanos – definitely.
• Jaguars – grrrr – be serious!