Part Five

The drive to the border was short and quite beautiful as the road wound along beside a river giving us great views of rapids, people washing themselves and clothes, and great tropical vistas. As we approached the first border post, aggressive moneychangers ran towards us to offer their services. As described in an early journal, they are quite helpful and necessary.

Leaving Belize was quite straightforward but the entry to Guatemala was quite a bit slower. The post was quite laid back, few uniforms in evidence and all paperwork had to be labouriously typed out on ancient typewriters. It was a shock to get back to a Spanish speaking country, and at this out of the way post no one spoke any English so this slowed the process down even more. However, we were not in a hurry and they were easy to get along with.

We had to pass through five separate "offices" on the Guatemala side (some sort of job security I think). They were: vehicle fumigation, passport and visa entry stamps, vehicle permits (by far the most troublesome), customs inspection (more curiosity than a thorough search) and final documentation check. Once through the border we were met with another gate just across the bridge where an official collected a municipal tax for passing through. The whole process only took about two and half hours.

We immediately ended up getting off-course somehow and wandered around the dirty, dusty and obviously poor border town before finding, we hoped, the right road out of town. Welcome to Guatemala! The first indication that signage was not a high priority on their list. We were a little nervous about heading out on this backroad because all accounts said it was a bad road with a history of banditry.

I had also read a Belizean newspaper the day before and it was filled with stories of violence and incidentally a murder and border skirmish (with one armed man still at large) that had happened the day before in the same town we had just wandered around in. I kept this news to myself until the following day when we were safely in Tikal.

The road was rough and slow but we puttered along and unexpectedly came onto new pavement twenty-five kilometres earlier than expected. This was a pleasant surprise and renewed our faith that the government was making infrastructure improvements a priority. It was a peaceful drive to Tikal, a famous Mayan ruin that the government had earmarked as a tourist destination, that was why the paved road existed for about 80 km. so that tourists could fly into Flores and drive to Tikal.

We stopped by Lago Peten Itzal for lunch. It is a large (40 km long) lake that has the island city of Flores situated on it. Many eco resorts and ranches ring the lake. We virtually had the road to ourselves with the road ending at Tikal. We arrived at the gate (which is 15 km from the actual site) where we were informed that we would have to pay for a full day for today and again for tomorrow (we planned to camp there overnight). The fee was about $25/day so we elected to wait until 3:00 when the attendant said that we would only be charged for one day. We drove back along the road until we found a convenient place to pull over.

This is one of the great things about driving your home around, within five minutes we had the top up, lawn chairs out, sun hats on, coffee brewing and books perched on our laps! Our arrival at the site was at a good time, normally all visitors are bussed up in the morning and all the guides and vendors are very active then but by 3:30, in the hot sun, things were pretty quiet allowing us to get settled into a spacious, park-like campsite. It had showers and toilets, both which were clean (and unisex) and thatched huts and some lockable 4'x8' boxes with screened windows that we took for storage lockers but found out they were sleeping huts used by backpackers. The bugs were fierce so we could appreciate why they wanted to hide in there rather than sleep outside in hammocks. Thank goodness for mosquito coils!

We had time before dark to take a quick walk into the trails that led to the ruins. Tikal is quite different than other sites in that only the buildings themselves were cleared of vegetation so between the buildings you are walking in tropical jungle. We saw few people and seemed almost to have the forest to ourselves being quite amazed when we came upon the first large structures. It was the Grand Plaza with two large and very tall temples with steep staircases leading to the top. We were quite tired from the trail leading up to this spot but decided we better take the opportunity to scale the one which we were allowed to climb. The challenge was well worth it, the view over the jungle canopy was awesome. We clicked and whirled away, storing the sight for future viewing film. We hurried back down the trail, anxious to get back as it got dark very quickly in the forest. It had been a long day, full of new experiences and we happily dozed off feeling quite secure and sang to sleep by a great variety of birds.

The night was peaceful but interrupted several times by strange growling and roaring. We had earlier heard the howler monkeys (even saw a few) and man can they make awfully loud noises! Perhaps the roaring was jaguars. We were camped right in the jungle and saw some foxlike animals and some large (dog size) rodents.

We headed out on the trails early, beating the rush (which never occurred) and looking forward to seeing more spectacular sights. We saw, we climbed, we climbed (some had wooden ladders reminiscent of the West Coast Trail) and hiked most of the trails. The steep steps of the temples were a great work out for the quads! After about 5 hours we were ready to head off but first stopped at the museum where they a gigantic mock up of the site showing all the buildings and also large photos (3'x5') of all the work that had transpired since 1870. They were extremely interesting, showing what they first looked like when discovered and the progression of uncovering and reconstructing them.

We headed down the road to St. Elena (sister city to Flores) to see what it was like and find a place for the night before we headed out on the next long, lonely strip of backroad that was about 220 km long before reaching pavement. Both towns were a disappointment to say the least, St. Elena was crowded, dirty and had only one passable road. A tour of the market looking for some fresh fruit was a fiasco, ending in Diane rushing back to the van, overwhelmed with the filth. Sometimes when you are travelling some situations come on strong and this was one. I had been through this before so knew how she was feeling.

We both agreed to veto our original plan to stay there and head south. We had some trepidation as it was later (about 1:30) than we would normally depart on a major trip but we had read about a finca (ranch) in our book that was only about 110 km along the road so we thought we could make it before dark. When we filled up with gas the van was leaking a lot of antifreeze (because of the heat and slow driving through the towns, that was my diagnosis) so this added a little worry. At the gas station we were approached by a black Belizean who said that he was a teacher that got drunk the previous night and had been mugged. He had everything taken and he was on his way to San Salvador to work. He asked for a ride but we were not comfortable with that so gave him some money for busfare. We felt sorry for him.

The road was very rough, large boulders and holes meandering up on over tropical ridges. It was impossible to make any time. We just prayed the van held together, this was not a good place to break down. The road had quite a few villages strung beside it, surviving by subsistence farming. Twice, the road magically transformed to wide, brand new pavement! Each time it only lasted about 2 km but we thought we were flying on clouds! They were building a new modern road to replace the existing one. Our friend who had travelled this road several years ago mentioned they were doing this so perhaps by 2025 it will be done.

Dark came upon us and we were still about 30 km from the finca. Yup, you guessed right, we had only averaged 20 km/hr all afternoon. The now usual scene, both tired, trying to decide what to do, some words between us and the decision to carry on to the finca in the dark. The drive was not pleasant, and ended with us having to drive several miles off the road along a single lane track, mysteriously followed by an old truck with poor lights. Our imaginations took off, peaking when we came to a gate and they pulled up tightly behind us.

With nowhere to go, I "bravely" got out and opened the gate to what we hoped was our safe haven for the night. Finca Ixobel was just that and more. I was met by a young English speaking woman, who it turned out was from Vancouver Island, who welcomed us and showed us around the place. It was filled with travellers from around the world, the majority from Holland on a bus tour to Tikal. The place had a wonderful atmosphere, candles lit the rooms and porches, music soothed the soul, it had a well used library, and an honour system for food and drink. They cooked all their own food there and the baking was especially delicious.

As we were tired we made our way over to the camping area and set up for the night beside a small creek. The sound of the water was soothing but we later noticed a slight, all to familiar odour of septage. We discovered the next morning that the creek was the outfall from the ranches sewage lagoon outfall! Diane commented that we always seemed to be camped near places that gave off this smell! Anyway, a quiet, safe night with sounds of horses moving about us throughout the night (it was a working as well as a tour ranch). The campground had several huts and believe it or not, four treehouses that backpackers could camp in. Great stuff!

In the morning we relaxed, bought loaves of banana and whole wheat bread for the road and offered a girl from Holland a ride down the road. She was another trusting, confident girl who seemed unafraid to travel on her own, though she told us that there were so many backpackers around she seldom was on her own.

The road continued to be terrible but only for an hour or so and then we were rolling along blissfully smooth pavement. We began the long descent from the highlands to the valley bottom where the Rio Dulce flowed towards the Gulf of Honduras. The scenery was great, the vegetation began to become more lush and tropical, the air hotter and very humid and the roadside more populated.

We stopped for lunch at Rio Dulce, dropping off our rider, having lunch, and walking over the large bridge for some exercise and the view. The river was large and filled with all descriptions of boats, from dugout canoes to large sailing yachts. This was the jumping off spot for access to many communities on the coast and along the river. Water taxis were everywhere. The Rotary project was down river from here and we hoped to return with a guide to show us the area. It was hot and humid to say the least! I looked like a drowned rat, my shirt soaking wet and sweat dripping from my chin! It was wonderful to get back into the van and cruise down the road with the window open....ahhhhhh. The van had pleasantly surprised us in that it had good airflow, but was not too noisy, when the windows were down.

Before long we reached the main highway that crossed Guatemala from the east to the west coast, and we turned west towards Guatemala City (Guate). As expected, the road was extremely congested with bus and truck traffic, and the game of chicken began again with the only difference being is that a lot of the trucks were semi-trailers. The highway was in excellent shape, obviously just repaved in the last few years, and we moved along at a reasonable pace through farming and plantation country.

Every time we came to a waterway of any sort, the damage from Hurricane Mitch was evident. Every bridge had its approached washed out and the evidence of heavy flooding was everywhere but as expected repairs had been made to get traffic through. Our anticipated campsite (from the book) turned out to be non-existent. It had been located beside a river and had been washed away, only boulders and debris remained. We carried on, unsure of where to stay, not wanting to get too close to Guate.

We checked out an Auto-Hotel out of curiosity but it was an expensive $15 for every four hours. It was an interesting place though, totally automated and private for the locals amorous assignations. It was in a walled compound with individual garages that you drove into, pressed a button and the door closed, you spoke by intercom to the office who gave you a code to unlock the door, then you left the assigned amount of money in a locked box outside the door and settled in for however many hours you wanted to spend. I guess the secrecy is all part of the culture. Evidently, the men have quite a few affairs!

We also stopped at a few spas looking for a place to park but they only had day use unless you were staying at the hotel which were much to posh for us. The water parks would have been nice to visit but were also too expensive for the few hours we would be able to enjoy them. Soon though, we had to find a place, so in a small town we stopped at a 24 hour gas station/hotel combination where I gathered myself to ask if we could spend the night. It sounds like such a simple thing, just ask "Can we park here for the night" but with the language and cultural barrier it is quite a challenge. Eventually I was pointed to the owner/manager who had the authority to make a decision. He was kind and understanding even though he couldn't quite understand why we didn't stay in the hotel.

We filled up with gas and the attendants asked if we would like the van cleaned. I thought they meant wash the windows, but soon two of them were busy doing the whole van from a couple of buckets. The van needed it after all those dusty roads! Its funny, but just liking after taking a shower, we both felt so much better having a clean van! When I asked how much for the wash (with trepidation for I knew from experience to know the price for everything before going ahead) they said nothing, it was part of the service the station provided. What a surprise! I gave the guy $2.50 and he thought I was crazy!

After we were settled in for the night we had a opportunity to watch the "show" at the service station. The service they provided was exceptional, it reminded us of days gone by in our country. There were three islands with two pumps each and two employees per pump (yup, 12 employees) and one "foreman". When a vehicle pulled in they checked the oil, tires, water, and washed the whole vehicle, all in a matter of minutes.

We also had time to stretch our legs and walk around the town that was just off the highway. It was a pleasant stroll through a typical town that had no tourist influence. We were the only "whites" and obviously we were a curiosity but they respected our privacy and didn't bother us. The night was noisy as expected; horns, pigs, dogs, music and trucks, trucks, trucks but once settled in we seemed to blend into the background and no one bothered us. I had found that this is one of the great "secrets" when travelling that I used often. Just stop and stay still for a while and you will become the background and the world will more around you, just like standing in the middle of a cattle stampede.

As we approached Guate, the traffic and diesel fumes increased to distressing levels. My hours of map studying and route planning began to pay off as we became engulfed in the maelstrom of traffic. Guate grew far faster that its infrastructure, so the narrow roads are choked with traffic. Few signs were evident and we soon found ourselves downtown, crawling along, with the sidewalks overflowing with vendors. The were so numerous they left no room for pedestrians!

As expected we got off of our planned route somehow and became disoriented. It helped to have two people looking for landmarks though, because I had to focus on avoiding all the hazards. The fumes were so bad, especially following the innumerable busses, that I was slightly nauseous. Intuition and aggressive driving finally found us on the right road leading west out of the city towards a spa that had been highly recommended in a travel book. On the outskirts of town we stopped at a modern strip mall (it even had a MacDonalds) where we recovered from the stress of going through the largest, most congested metropolis in Central America.

Part 6