On the way to Antigua

I rode along the same road into the mountains as yesterday to leave Panajachel and turned off towards Antigua. I had heard from Chris and Dexter who I had met at the Guatemala border and Chris told me they were at a town called San Andres Itzapa. They were staying at a workshop that converts old donated bicycles from the US into useful machinery such as pedal operated blenders. I decided to head there and find them.

 I stopped for lunch at a small town along the way and while I was eating a solo rider stopped on a Triumph Tiger 1050. We started talking and I met Manuel from Guatemala City who was out for a Sunday ride. He was returning to the city and knew a good back road to San Andres Itzapa and said he would show me the way. The small winding road was crumbling and full of potholes but it was an exciting ride with runners and cyclists sharing the route. At one point the road was completely washed away and we had to divert around a gravel road and through a small river crossing to start climbing up the other side of the hill. It was a great hour and a half ride through some more small towns with the typical Sunday markets until eventually we reached the turnoff to San Andres Itzapa and we fare-welled after swapping contact details.

I rode into the bustling town with markets in full swing. I had no idea how to find Chris and Dexter, so I pulled up in front of some stalls and asked where to find Internet. As I was talking, Chris and Dexter walked up with surprised looks on their faces.

‘When did you get here?’

‘Just now’

‘We are just returning from the markets and I saw your bike.’

 I followed them to the workshop and met a group of cyclists that were staying and building machines. We caught up on news and unfortunately this place was not hat it seems. It has been operating for 18 years with a designer/manager but recently he left and went out on his own, setting up an alternative business. That left this place on a trajectory of decline with the owner not having really any idea about design or engineering. The feeling was that it would not last much longer before folding. Everyone was leaving in the next week.

I stayed for two nights and helped around the place where I could and enjoyed the company of other travellers. One has to admire cyclists travelling long distances.

Have you ever seen a double-decker bicycle?

Have you ever used a bicycle blender?

Lake Atitlan

It takes a bit of time to get used to the roads and driving habits in a new country. Whilst generally the traffic so far seemed a little slower and less aggressive than Mexico, it became apparent that the large coloured and decorated buses loaded with passengers, commonly known as chicken buses, rule the roads. 

On three occasions I was forced off the road by them coming head on towards me while they were overtaking. No apology, no trying to avoid me, just flashing high beam and loud horns telling me to get the fuck out of their way. Hmmm lesson learned. Ironically I was the one stopped by the police at a random licence check. All was ok and I mentioned how dangerous the buses were driving and yes, they agreed they are dangerous. Thanks guys.

The ride to Lake Atitlan the next day was a downhill winding road with a few photo opportunities and spectacular views of the surrounding volcanoes. 

I wound my way to a town called Panajachel on the northern side of the lake. A popular tourist spot it was fairly quiet with a lot of hotels that appeared empty. I managed to negotiate a room for two nights for 100 Quetzales ($13) a night with a nice hidden spot for Ziggy and killer views of the lake from a special open room on the second floor. Intuition working well!

I stayed for three nights. On my second day I took one of the public boats straight across the lake to a little town called Santiago nestled between the two volcanoes. There was some week long festival happening and it was a lot more crowded with a labyrinth of markets selling food, clothes, art and everything else. 

The people here are very small with most not reaching my shoulders so it was easy to see my way ahead through the crowded mayhem amongst boisterous haggling, spruking vendors and background explosions of fireworks. Twice I was blocked up by a small group of people, both times a man and three or four women and I could feel hands searching for my pockets. I knocked the hands away when I realised what they were doing then barged my way through them to break their blocking of my passage. Fortunately I have zippers on my pockets and they only managed to partly open them and nothing was stolen.

 After finding some good coffee and knocking back another 150 requests to buy things, I walked through the steep residential area and took in more views of the lake and volcanoes. 

After five hours of wandering I made my way back to the boat, returned to Panajachel walked another lap of the main street to find dinner then headed back to the hotel.

 The next day I rode up to the highlands and half way around the lake, visiting a number of small towns and taking in the scenery. The roads were rough and potholed for much of the ride so I was on my guard but travelling without luggage makes it easy. It was nice to have a day exploring but there were some serious storm clouds looming so I didn’t go as far as I would have liked. 

I stopped in a small steep town for some lunch and watched the boats bringing tourists to the town where they had fifteen minutes to come and have a look before being herded back to continue to the next town. When I returned to the hotel I knew it was time to leave the next morning.

Adios Mexico, Hola Guatemala

Rossco’s Hostel was comfortable and friendly with good Internet and a great bunch of travellers coming and going. I met people from many countries and although it didn’t do my Spanish much good I enjoyed meeting up with many fun travellers and locals.

I stayed for four nights and finished some long overdue blogging and loading up of pictures to Facebook. San Cristobal is a fascinating and popular town with several churches with long staircases to access them. 

I went for many long walks, spent hours over a couple of coffees along Calle Guadeloupe that is closed to vehicles and enjoyed some people watching. 

My first night there was a massive hailstorm that caught me out in just a t-shirt. I was only 300 metres from the hostel but was soaked well and truly. I really enjoyed the company of a few people I hung out with and left feeling recharged, motivated with my blogging and happy with life in general.

I was planning to go back to Palenque to visit the friends I have made but some were away and the day I wanted to leave had a protest blocking the road so I wasn’t sure if I would get through. I looked at a map and noticed that the road to the Guatemala border was less than 200kms and it immediately made sense to me to head that way. The decision was easy and obvious. It was time to move on from Mexico, the place I have enjoyed for four months now. I was excited to go to a new country and started turning my mind to Guatemala and the people and places I would see.

I decided to ride the 200kms slowly to the border town of Cuauhtemoc and take a hotel so I could do the border crossing first thing in the morning. When I arrived I met Chris and his son Dexter travelling on a Suzuki V-strom 1000, loaded up well and heading into Guatemala to volunteer at a place where they do up old bicycles for distribution to communities. I'm sure I took a photo but can't find it... We swapped details and he entered Guatemala straight away. I could have done the same, it is a very quiet border crossing but I stayed until morning.

The Aduana office was opening at 9am according to what I was told in the afternoon before, but by 8.30 it was open and operating. I was in a hotel across the road, a good cheap place to stay but expensive to eat, so at 9am I was in the office and ten minutes later I was out with my temporary import form cancelled and the $US300 deposit in my hand in cash. I walked next door and had my passport stamped out, another two minutes and I was away for the five kilometre ride to the Guatemala border. Two hundred metres before the border was a shanty town of stalls selling the full range of artesenales, clothing and food with hundreds of people milling along and across the road, making it a narrow path to get through and lucky not to take any casualties on the road!

The border was a large metal gate where I was stopped and the bike fumigated with a guard and his backpack spraying Ziggy like a weed. I paid the 16 Quetzales ($2) and rode ten metres to the Immigration office where my passport was stamped in. I rode another 30 metres to the Aduana office where the friendly and helpful officer spent twenty minutes filling in forms, taking copies of my licence, passport and registration, then without checking the numbers on the bike issued me with a temporary import sticker good for 90 days. I was riding into Guatemala just before 10am. I hope all of my border crossings are this easy. I suspect they won’t be. I didn't want to push my luck with the armed guards by taking photos.

I had a wonderful morning riding through the stunning mountains of Guatemala. Small villages one after another rolled by nestled in scenery of peaks and valleys stretching in all directions. It was a postcard at every turn and typically it is impossible to capture the beauty with my little camera and hard to find places to pull over where the scenery is best. It is amongst the best scenic routes I have taken on the trip. The road followed a river that was flowing strongly through the rugged valleys with villages nestled on its edges and I wondered how many dogs, cows and children had been swept away over the ages.

At one point there was a convoy of vehicles full of indigenous folk, traversing a cable suspension bridge over the flowing river.

 A crazy little town looked like it was recovering from a local market or fiesta

Eventually the country opened up a bit more and became a little more settled with busier towns. I stopped at a few small places to eat and drink along the way and it was apparent that the food was not going to be as plentiful or varied as in Mexico. Still it was a similar cuisine and easy to find. Hour after hour rolled by winding through the mountains and rising to some higher altitudes. I don’t have an altimeter but the temperature dropped from thirty to below twenty, and even down to thirteen at one stage, challenging my choice of hot weather riding gear.

The day wore on and I started looking for a place to stay. I stopped at a high-set shop with lots of artesan gear and saw a magnificent lake in the distance. The shop owner told me it was Lake Atitlan so I headed back to the last town and found a motel with the plan to approach the lake the next morning. It was a love motel for $13, basic but has a bed and a bathroom so it did what it needed.