Cause they fall through the holes in his hands…

Dave McDermott had this to say about his recent trip:

It all started when we tried to hitch a ride on an RV with a dude that grows weed for a living in Sonoma. When he proved to be a procrastinator, for obvious reasons, me and Aaron Bostrom could wait no longer. We hoped in Aaron’s civic and headed for the border to meet a few friends in Nicaragua, 3,500 miles deep into Central America.
Before we even got into Mexico we got a ticket for having expired tags. So early into the trip and things were proving to be a little bit sketchy. Two days in and we already had a flat tire and my wallet went missing. We were strongly cautioned by travelers and locals to not travel at night. So naturally this was when we did the most driving, staying at a consistent 90 mph with a tire full of fix-a-flat. We rounding a turn early one afternoon to the scene of an accident. It seemed as though two semi trucks had collided head on. A smaller truck packed with live chickens was also involved in the carnage. Dead chickens and chicken guts covered the impassable, sun baked, two lane road. Some chickens were half alive and others were unharmed. We watched as locals took advantage and grabbed some of the living chickens for themselves.
We arrived that night in a place called Las Saladitas. It is famous for it’s ridiculously long left point break. This wave breaks for nearly a minute, easily making it the longest wave I have ever surfed. The owner of a near by surf camped yelled at us when we tried to camp on the beach in front of the rented out bungalows. We spent the night in the car off a dirt road and returned the next morning to surf all day. Camped in front of a restaurant on the beach for $3 that night. We had a fire and cooked beans and rice for dinner. The next morning I had to paddle out and save a guy that was getting sucked out to sea. Soon after my rescue we headed south towards our first border crossing.
So I guess you need the original title and registration for your vehicle to cross borders. Of course we didn’t have that. This quickly became a problem. The borders are infested with con artists trying to help you through the confusing process, all the while hustling you for cash. These guys, along with the policia, can get you anything for the right price. So due to our lack of necessary paper work, bribery became common place at every border we crossed. They got worse the further south we drove, as did the living conditions. Every border was stressful and hard to navigate. We would watch as the police worked hand in hand with these extortionists until they negotiated a price for us to continue on, both of them receiving a cut of course. I think the worst border was crossing from El Salvador into Honduras where we lost about $150. This came as a shock after El Salvador only set us back $9. Every time we weaseled our way through one border, the pressure was on to make it through the rest so that we had not come so far in vein.
We stayed a night in El Savador and surfed all morning. When we got out of the water, a hysterical German tourist explained to us that she had just been robbed at gun point. We walked here back to her hotel and continued on our way. Pressing through the rest of the countries to finally arrive in Minagua, Nicaragua. After our phone died upon arrival, we had to pay a gas station attendant to use his phone and call Mike Hinkens. Luckily he answered and the whole crew came and greeted us after our amazing journey. We followed them back to the house, celebrated with friends, and got a good nights sleep.
Nicaragua is the second poorest country in the southern hemisphere, second only to Haiti. The way of life down there is something that should be experienced by everybody. We had real trouble finding food while we were riding because people there are too poor to eat out. Add in extreme heat, corrupt police singling us out for being white, a whole lot of trash, and relentless begging from locals and thats the city side setting that we were thrust into. This was all to be expected of a third world country of course, and not to mention Aaron and I were already accustom to these environments.
Nicaragua is also home to beautiful country sides, beaches, volcanos, and farmlands. We rode sleds down the most active volcano on the planet, El Cero Negro. One of the highlights of the trip was going to a local cock fight in Leon. We were originally suppose to go on a touristy version of a cock fight. They focused on the history and explained everything that was going to happen. Well we missed that one when the once flat tire on the civic shredded and went flat again. After being extorted by the police for money and getting the tire fixed for only ten dollars, we were too late for to make the tour. But after asking around a bit, we got an inside tip on one going down a few blocks away. We pulled up to a dirt field, payed the guards holding a barbed wire fence a dollar, and tried to blend in. It was basically a shed with bleacher seating and a small arena in the middle. The smell of chicken shit, blood, and sweaty, drunken males steamed up the small car port style ring. The chickens went nuts pecking at each other until one was dead. The two men in charge of starting and stopping the fight, were also in charge of sucking the blood off off the chickens drenched heads and blowing air into their lungs to keep them fighting. Two men in the center of all this chaos with blood running down their chins. A fight between two guys even broke out. And forties were only a dollar. I don’t really condone animal cruelty, but it was definitely something that I wanted to add to my life’s resume.
Some amazing riding went down and the infamous Rob Dolecki was there to capture it all on film to be used in an up coming Dig Magazine article. I won’t spoil what went down, but I will say we found some very unique set ups. People would pour out into the streets when they saw us starting to ride a spot. It was a little intimidating to be surrounded by a hundred locals and not knowing what there intentions were. But everything went well and no one got hurt. Look for the article to come out in a few months.
Just when I though I was home free, I got stranded at LAX. After 3 hours of waiting and no answer when I tried calling Aaron’s phone, I realized at 11:00 p.m. that no one was coming for me. My phone was dead and his was the only number that I had written down. Aaron was suppose to pick me up, but got hammered and arranged for someone else to get me who also never made it. With only a $5 left I convinced the driver of a $7 bus to take me to downtown LA where I could assemble my bike and ride to Luis Pinzon’s house. Once I got off the bus i realized that it was starting to rain and that I had given my inner tubes to a Nicaraguan kid. So my only option was to walk all the way through grimmey neighborhoods holding three bags and a surf board in the middle of the night…easy target. When I asked some man on the street for directions a guy in his car at the stop light heard and offered to give me a ride. The dude was so sketchy looking in a gay murderer type way. I didn’t give two shits. I was tired as fuck and was prepared to beat the shit out of him with the random wrench in my front pocket if he tried any funny business. He creeped me out all the way to Pinzons and dropped me off after asking my name several times. Luckily Luis and his wife Lindsey were home from there honeymoon in Africa. I scared the shit out of them beating on the door that late. Lindsey heated me up some Easter leftovers and I was officially home. The, mother fucking, end.

Dave sent me all the pics of the chickens crushed in the road, not sure to post them…let me know what you think…shit