Trip Diary - Photo Diary - Start the trip in the UK - USA - Mexico - Belize - Continue on to El Salvador
"A month ago, a BMW rider had his rear tyre shot out during the day by Bandits on this road" said Dan casually as he sipped his coffee. "Over here and here, Bandits have been reported to have been active, but only really at night." he added, pointing to two roads on the map laid in front of us. "If you don?t ride by night, I think you should be fine". These were the words that had been spoken to me a month 6 weeks before we crossed into Guatemala. "Yeah, the Police will stop you in Guatemala, for sure" Pre-teen Steve the International Playboy and suspected child pornography deviant had said to us in Belize.
"Make sure you?ve got spare change for bribes". Later Daisy heard him confide in a French backpacking couple, "They're stupid to be riding though Central America on a bike. It's just too dangerous." With these words ringing in my head we arrived at the Guatemala border. As border crossings go, it was less impressive than the one between Belize and Mexico, which in turn was less impressive than the one between Mexico and the US. If a nations wealth is reflected in the border crossing Guatemala is a damn sight poorer than Belize.
In fact, the crossing was simple and quick. Three windows were visited, a small amount of money was relinquished for visas and vehicle import tax and then we were through. No time to think about this though, as the border town looked decrepit and the bank we visited was staffed by security guards brandishing pump action shot guns. Oh crap, the rumours must be true. As we road into the countryside, we told each other across our intercom that we weren't going to stop needlessly on these rural roads, just in case the AK37 brandishing Bandits took it as a chance to ambush us. Fear was well and truly following behind us as we rode into the country.
This fear slowly subsided. It lessened as we left the pleasant lake town of Flores after a delightful lunch. It subsided a bit more, as we road South down silk smooth roads, sparsely traveled by slow, well mannered traffic. It subsided even more when we found out, arriving at Rio Dulce, that we had just ridden through one of the infamous Bandit areas, and which in fact just turned out to be a pleasant ride through the countryside. Sure, we had passed a couple of Police pickups and one checkpoint, but these just waved us on with big smiles, something that was alien to us after our previous encounters with the law in Mexico. By the time we reached El Retino in Lanquin a couple of days later, Guatemala had turned from a wild, bandit riddled country, into a green, friendly and very laid back land.
El Retino is a backpackers hostel located at the bottom of a steep sided valley, nestled in the highlands of central Guatemala. A warm, fast flowing river at the bottom of a small site housing half a dozen bamboo and wooden structures. The site appeared to be modelled on the village in the film "The Beach", but with a cleaner, less grotty air about it. Whilst we were there, it was populated with a mix of European, North American and Australasian folk, all traipsing up and down the gringo trail, traveling primarily by buses.
Evenings were spent in the large hut, eating, drinking and sharing stories with the other guests. Brits who live in London but who are moving to Brighton upon their return. A German traveling on his own who converses in short sentences. Canadians who smoke large amounts and drink nearly as much. A 30 year old Brit from Huddersfield who knew everything, has been everywhere and who has done everything. Daisy an I giggle and nudge each other under the table, trying to get the most lies out of the man, who obliges with taller and taller tales. Finally I get bored of the bullshit and snap, asking him if he's ever eaten a mango on tables mountain, "Erm, no. But the New Zealanders I was with had one" he stutters in a confused voice. "Doesn't matter" I say "You haven't eaten a Mango on Table Mountain". 10 minuets later after pleading with us what it means he admits he can kind of see why you would want to eat a Mango on Table Mountain ha! Bullshit always beats Bullshit. Later we head East though the mountains. The main road on the map turns out to be a dirt road that has turned into a muddy ice rink. We crawl down the side of the mountain valley, dropping out of the clouds, stopping every couple of minutes to let a truck pass us on the way up. Our expected daily mileage is quartered but we finally make it to the city where our friends live. Ninni and Erik, a Fin and a Swede, both international types working for the UN with contacts for the Embassies. We hear stories about the country and its politicians, relax in the warmth of their companionship and talk the talk of new and old friends alike. East again and the target is Antigua, to meet Mark and Matt (Dan has got fed up with the bike, traveling and lack of curry and headed back to the UK). We meet the lads in town and find that they've sub'd Dan for a Norwegian called Helge with a sticker fetish. He's ridden from Norway, across Europe, Russia , Alaska, Canada, the rest of the States and down to Guatemala on a BMW sidecar outfit. "Ya, plenty, plenty miles". Where now? El Salvador. By: Daisy Up bright and breezy, longing for another curry for breakfast but not to be. Easy peasy border crossing into Guatemala and straight away into deep green, lushious countryside with hundreds of weeny hillocks resembling Steak & Kidney Puddings, river after river, and wooden shacks (cabañas) with colourful gardens. Sometimes below the clouds, sometimes above. Accidently missed our turning and head 30 miles South through notorious bandit country, ignoring the hazard signs showing photo's of handguns - all OK though, they must have known we were British! Either that or they could smell us coming (the Western concept of sanity and hygiene somehow aren't quite as important anymore - Note to self: sort this out before returning to civilisation). We push on, riding to Coban, where the street markets are alive with colour, noise and gorgeously fresh produce. Could almost forgive it for being so bloody cold (spend the night fully clothed, including wooly hats and bike gloves - no action that night then!).
The indigenous population is very high in Guatemala (unlike the stature), about 50%, so after a while it«s quite normal to see the coloured skirts and petticoats, machete's hanging from bloke's waistbands and pots of water or baskets of fruit precariously positioned atop an 8 or 80 year old's head. I try and be a kind citizen and inform one lady that her earring was about to fall out. She looked at me with real fear and physically ran away from me. Oh to be a minority. Got over the shock with a posh, slap-up 4 course brekky for $2.50. Money sure is going a long way here. Along a brain-jolting dirt track, up and down stunning valley after stunning valley, returning the waves and smiles from the indigenous folk, we arrive at an "Eco Hostel" (RIGHT ON!!!) built on the hillside, a babbling jade green river flowing along the bottom, and the area strewn with hammocks and cabañas. Decide on a cabaña attic, which rather pleasingly came with free cat but meant struggling up a vertical wooden ladder after the Quebec Libre's (new drink of choice - Rum & Ginger Ale) had been a-flowing. On the plus side, the site gave 5% of everyone's bill straight back into the local community, meaning they have a brand new "school" and brand new "hospital", and hell do they need it round here. On the downside, we had to endure being talked at, bullshitted to and quite frankly bored to tears by Mr.You've-Never-Had-A-Mango-Until-You've-Had-A-Mango-On-Table-Mountain. Although our age, this chap managed to name drop 16 countries in 35 minutes, and wherever you had been, he'd been there twice, been there faster, been there 10 years ago. He really needed to go back there and stay there forever.
From here we had an ideal base for cool things to do: visited some cool caves, complete with Mayan shrine, and watched the bats come out to play at dusk. Rode miles into the wilderness, passing people who my never have seen a white person, let alone a 2 of them on a great big, noisy, motorised mule. Went to an awesome natural treat called Semuc Champey, where the river flowed beneath the rock and formed a series of rock pools of varying degrees of turquoise, decreasing in height like steps, warm and calm enough to float about in. At the other end, the formation culminated in the river reappearing as a huge, gushing waterfall. So gorgeous from the bottom, I even endured the near heart attack-inducing 1.2 miles up the hill to enjoy GUAT. VIEW NO. 1 and was still reeling with joy when on the way home the bike chucked us off - no apparent injury, only doing about 1 mile an hour. Cured within the hour by an ice cold Quebec Libre. Stayed in a plush-ish hotel in the West that actually had hot water, yee-haa! Actually feel clean for the first time in about 3 weeks! Nice town, but we went to the internet shop and came out at 9pm to find the streets utterly deserted except for military teenagers mooching around with large, automatic weapons. This was the first time I really understood how dangerous the country is and how many of the people live in fear and usually poverty as well. Finally got to Guatemala's 2nd city where Wal-Mart (oh yes) provides us with some baubles to decorate the bike in true Christmas spirit. We hook up for more hot showers, scrumptious foodstuffs and general TLC with fantabulous ex-flatmate Ninni and equally fantabulous boyfriend Erik. As they live here, we stay in a real house and enjoy the novelty of washing up and making our own coffee whilst being horrified and disgusted by stories of Guatemalan violence, poverty and politics (all going hand-in-hand). We leave our friends and head off to the lake, but not before shedding a tear for the baubles which lasted all of 200 yards. Shit Mexican Gaffa Tape.
The dire, filthy, landslide-at-any-moment, deathtrap road takes us to magnificant Lake Atitlan where 2 x volcano«s overlook the pretty lakeside villages, the parrots squalk "Hola" and GUAT. VIEW NO. 2 is enjoyed in awe. From here we head over to meet The Boys, now reduced to 2 - shame on you Dan! The parrots call out "Bueno" and we thank them for their approval in this matter.
We find the boys hanging out in a gorgeous Colonial Town called Antigua where they«ve picked up a Norwegian in a side car with an unhealthy obsession with collecting stickers. We drink poor beer in an American-owned bar as we are treated to a «traditional« Mayan Ceremony which basically entails a bloke in a pair of Levi«s whacking a bunch of Sage over a bloke wearing a T-shirt with a wolf on it, all washed down with the spiritual incantations of Enigma. Following this life-altering experience, we watched the Christmas lights be switched on in the town square, followed by fireworks and tissue paper hot air balloons being released over the Volcano. Added to this the definite, mountainous chill in the air and ÒFeliz NavidadÓ posters over the shops, it«s safe to say I feel Christmassy. The excitement is rising over something I«m not quite sure of - every country we enter seems to be better than the last, and as we have so many more counties to see I can hardly contain myself ! Oh, and the police haven«t bothered us once, a refreshing change from the beasts of Mexico - they prefer to park their patrol cars next to a bar and listen to their Marimba music blaring out whilst sharing a chuckle with their buddies. To El Salvador, Trusty Steed, vamos!!! Continue on to El Salvador |
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| ©2006 Mark Bell |