After much deliberation, we decide to travel to Lago do Yojoa to stay at the infamous D&D Brewery. We check the Tica Bus website and I see on the schedule that there is a bus at 5:00 am. Mike calls them to ask if we can reserve or pay over the phone.
The guy replies no, but tells Mike that there is also a 6:30 or 7:30. Dope.
We get up at 4:30 am, our hostel won't call us a regular cab so we wander the dark dangerous streets, gratefully grabbing the first cab we see. We arrive at the station at 5:30 with ample time to spare, only to be told that the bus left half an hour ago. When we explain that we were told on the phone there were multiple buses, they just shrug. Tired and confused, when a different cab driver approaches us tells us there's another bus station nearby, we hop in his unmarked car.
Across town at Nica Express we discover that their bus doesn't leave until 11:00 and doesn't arrive in Tegucigalpa until past 7:00 pm. Meaning we'd be arriving in Honduras' most dangerous city in the dark and would have to spend the night.
Defeated, we drag our tired asses back to our hostel, sneak back through our crowded dorm room and collapse in our untidy bunks, barely even missed. When daylight comes we're bummed, but determined. We pre-purchase our tickets and pre-book a cab and resolve to successfully catch our bus. We end up meeting some cool people and having a fun pool and beer day and it doesn't seem quite so bad to be stuck in Managua.
The next day goes according to plan, the border crossing takes ages and Mike and I make the unfortunate decision to sit in the back of the bus, so although the AC is cranked, we're seated directly above the engine and it's BOILING. I wake up from a nap drenched in sweat. This must be what Hell feels like.
We go through a lot of construction and rather than arrive in Tegu by noon (like we're supposed to and counting on to catch our connecting bus) we don't actually arrive until after 4. Nine straight hours of bus with only small snacks to fill our bellies. Our destination on Lago de Yojoa is another five hours away. Disheartened, we set about finding a cab to take us to a hostel when the bus driver, having heard our final destination while crossing the boarder, calls us over to a lady who speaks fluent English. She tells us we can take the Tica bus towards San Pedro Sula and they can arrange for a bus to take us to D&D Hostel.
Her instructions are a little unclear, I ask if the second bus will take us straight there and she says no, only to Peña Blanca where we'll have to catch a cab to the hostel. We're just psyched to get out of the city.
We drive a while longer and then the driver calls us up to hop off the bus. He makes a quick phone call and then tells us to wait in front of the police station for the driver. We wait and wait and try to ignore the swarms of mosquitos feasting on us. We begin to realize that we don't know what this bus will look like, what the name of the driver is, or any other crucial details. We get approached by numerous Tuk-Tuks who we wave away. Finally, an unmarked van pulls up and a local guy and American guy jump out.
"Are you going to D&D?" the American asks.
We say yes and that we're waiting for an arranged microbus to bring us to Peña Blanca where we will arrange our own travel.
He looks utterly confused.
"Oh really? Cause this here is the shuttle for the hostel, I'm staying there too, but we blew a tire on the way so we gotta go back for my friends. If you hop in with us, he'll just put the charge on your tab. Cause if you go Peña Blanca you're majorly backtracking."
Mike is extremely weary, but I eagerly accept. I doubt anyone else is going to come for us and for all we know, this is 'the bus.'
The two guys ask the cops to tell anyone else who may (or more likely, may not) come for us that we've found another ride.
We hop in and he tells us that he's travelling with his girlfriend, her sister and his best friend and they're all teachers in Tegu who often come up to the lake on weekends. We grab the rest of his crew from their temporarily abandoned car and are over the moon when our driver asks if we're hungry, then calls ahead to pre-order us food. A burrito and beer in front of me, I'm happy and relieved.
We sleep in, order breakfast and then start our journey by first finding a bank machine - a huge necessity since we have no Hondurian lempiras. Peña is a 20 minute walk and we want to checkout the area in the daylight, so we decide to walk. It's fucking hot and there's nothing to see. Once in town, we soon realize tourism is a new concept to the area: there is a lack of other travellers present and we experience frequent stares and occasional shouts and sneers.
Our cards don't work at the only ATM in town. Damn. We decide we'll take the bus back and start walking, but by the time it finally reaches us, we're pretty much back at the hostel.
We stop back in at D&D to cool down and regroup. Apparently, there are like a hundred school kids randomly there having lunch and they are incredibly annoying, so we hide on the other side of our cabin. According to Map.me, there are more ATMs in the opposite direction. We head out quickly and jump on the bus to Las Vegas, which has a functioning ATM and also, a bomb ice block shop that sells: PIÑA BARS! (a frozen fruity treat I'd been woefully and unsuccessfully searching for during our travels.) We get back and realize the day is almost over and its been a bit of a bust, so we start drinking the delicious craft beer by the jug-full and meet a really nice couple from Ontario.
First thing in the a.m, we head out in search of Pulhapanzak Waterfall. It's enormous and awe-inspiring and we want to see more of it so we treat ourselves to the $10 tour that goes in behind it. I'm expecting a little pathway that leads to a guardrail somewhere off to the side. Instead, our guide takes us through deep pools, strong currents and up a rope where the velocity of the falls smashing down on us is downright painful and makes seeing anything impossible. One wrong move, one small slip and death is the likely result. Luckily, we did wear our swimmers and runners, but a couple people in our group, clearly with expectations similar to ours, show up in blouses, skinny jeans and flats. It is an unforgettable adrenalin rush and on the way back we're laughing and splashing through the pools, Mike even jumps off a huge rock face.
On the way out, we thankfully get a ride with some people who were on our tour, more American expats.
That evening, a ton of people from the American army base are there and they're partying hard. We end up joined in the festivities of playing drinking games and just generally trying to keep up. It makes the crowded bus ride in the morning to San Pedro Sula, that much more painful. We grab some disappointing Pizza Hut from the bus depot before wandering in search of the boletaria, or, ticket counter. Luckily, we walk by a guy yelling "Copán!" and jump onto his microbus. I've learned by now that the buses will pretty much always find you. We get transferred to a different microbus and then finally into Copán Ruinas.
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