Deciding that we’d earned a break from cleaning the boat in the heat of the Rio Dulce we set off to find new adventures, and cooler temperatures, further inland.
For the first leg of the journey we hopped a bus and headed northwest to the town of Flores. We had high hopes for the trip as we were travelling in style in a modern, air conditioned bus, but this proved to be a bit naïve. The bus was modern-ish, by some standards, and it was air conditioned, but the bus line sold so many tickets that we were packed like sardines in the seats and in the aisle. We had the misfortune of being in the aisle group and had to stand as the bus rounded corners at dangerous speeds.
Sweat dripped down our backs as the air conditioning barely circulated the hot air inside the bus. An hour and a half into the four hour ride, Adam and a fellow passenger took matters into their own hands: after several attempts they were able to open the emergency hatch on the roof, which made a loud bang as light filtered in and glorious air swept through the cabin. The relief was short lived however; the driver’s helper quickly pushed his way to the back, closed the hatch, and gave Adam’s co-conspirator a stern talking to. I was hoping that they would kick us off the bus but the helper seemed reluctant to blame the two gringos on board.
Flores is an island, located in a lake, and is connected to the town of Santa Elena by a 500m causeway. We arrived in Santa Elena and negotiated a ride into Flores by tuk tuk – little three wheelers that are used for short distances and are meant to be cheaper than taxis. Although, our particular brand of negotiation ended in a very expensive ride from one side of the causeway to the other, so there are exceptions to the rule.
The next morning we visited the ruins at Tikal, one of Guatemala’s northern Maya Kingdoms. The site is spread over 16 square kilometres and took over 800 years to be constructed. We were able to climb to the top of several temples and see out over the jungle canopy to towering temples in the distance. We also saw an abundance of wildlife: a pack of jungle racoons, a tiny pig, and all variety of interesting birds. We were also stalked by a group of spider monkeys who, we were told by a guide, defecate on hikers to show their dominance. We doubted this at first but there were signs in the park with the same warning. Luckily we were prepared for them when they made their move and we were able to stay a step ahead of them at all times.
For the first leg of the journey we hopped a bus and headed northwest to the town of Flores. We had high hopes for the trip as we were travelling in style in a modern, air conditioned bus, but this proved to be a bit naïve. The bus was modern-ish, by some standards, and it was air conditioned, but the bus line sold so many tickets that we were packed like sardines in the seats and in the aisle. We had the misfortune of being in the aisle group and had to stand as the bus rounded corners at dangerous speeds.
Sweat dripped down our backs as the air conditioning barely circulated the hot air inside the bus. An hour and a half into the four hour ride, Adam and a fellow passenger took matters into their own hands: after several attempts they were able to open the emergency hatch on the roof, which made a loud bang as light filtered in and glorious air swept through the cabin. The relief was short lived however; the driver’s helper quickly pushed his way to the back, closed the hatch, and gave Adam’s co-conspirator a stern talking to. I was hoping that they would kick us off the bus but the helper seemed reluctant to blame the two gringos on board.
Flores is an island, located in a lake, and is connected to the town of Santa Elena by a 500m causeway. We arrived in Santa Elena and negotiated a ride into Flores by tuk tuk – little three wheelers that are used for short distances and are meant to be cheaper than taxis. Although, our particular brand of negotiation ended in a very expensive ride from one side of the causeway to the other, so there are exceptions to the rule.
The next morning we visited the ruins at Tikal, one of Guatemala’s northern Maya Kingdoms. The site is spread over 16 square kilometres and took over 800 years to be constructed. We were able to climb to the top of several temples and see out over the jungle canopy to towering temples in the distance. We also saw an abundance of wildlife: a pack of jungle racoons, a tiny pig, and all variety of interesting birds. We were also stalked by a group of spider monkeys who, we were told by a guide, defecate on hikers to show their dominance. We doubted this at first but there were signs in the park with the same warning. Luckily we were prepared for them when they made their move and we were able to stay a step ahead of them at all times.
Semuc Champey
After Tikal we packed up and took a shuttle van south to Semuc Champey, famed for its caves and a series of fresh water pools hidden in the jungle. We decided to travel by shuttle to Semuc and although it was a bit cramped, we were able to sit down for the 8 hour drive, which was very nice.
At Semuc Champey we stayed in a jungle hostel built largely of wood and tarps. It had a great view of the river and a set vegetarian menu for all meals. It professed to be an eco-hostel but Adam is convinced that this just a marketing tool, used to charge a lot of money for very basic accommodation. I had to agree after we discovered that, for a much higher price, one could stay the private cabins by the river in relative luxury.
On our second day we walked through the winding roads of the village to the entrance to the pools. We climbed up through the jungle using roots and vines to pull ourselves straight up the side of the valley. When we got to the top we looked out onto the pools of water below before making the hiked down the other side for a much needed swim. The pools were filled with tiny fish and Adam received a fish-pedicure which he found both funny and slightly disconcerting since they only seemed to want to clean his feet. At the end of the day we were given inner tubes and we floated back to the hostel, avoiding the river rocks and riding rapids along the way.
At Semuc Champey we stayed in a jungle hostel built largely of wood and tarps. It had a great view of the river and a set vegetarian menu for all meals. It professed to be an eco-hostel but Adam is convinced that this just a marketing tool, used to charge a lot of money for very basic accommodation. I had to agree after we discovered that, for a much higher price, one could stay the private cabins by the river in relative luxury.
On our second day we walked through the winding roads of the village to the entrance to the pools. We climbed up through the jungle using roots and vines to pull ourselves straight up the side of the valley. When we got to the top we looked out onto the pools of water below before making the hiked down the other side for a much needed swim. The pools were filled with tiny fish and Adam received a fish-pedicure which he found both funny and slightly disconcerting since they only seemed to want to clean his feet. At the end of the day we were given inner tubes and we floated back to the hostel, avoiding the river rocks and riding rapids along the way.
When I say speed you say bump...
The next morning we set off for Antigua only to discover that the tickets that we had purchased in advance were useless. We have since run into several people who have had the same trouble with a particular company so, if you are in Guatemala, learn from our mistake and avoid El Gran Jaguar Tours (insert fist shake).
After we bought new tickets we got back on the road only to stop 20 minutes later at a gas station. We were dropped off, along with our fellow passengers and several bus loads of Israeli students, by our driver announced a thirty minute break. For the next two hours we sat and munched on Guatemalan convenience store snacks as more bus loads of young backpackers arrived with tales of roadblocks, burning tires, and rumours of a country wide strike. Initially there was some confusion as to the purpose of the strike – either it was a protest of the Monsanto seed monopoly and it’s destruction of farming in Guatemala OR a protest of the number of speed bumps on the roads. The latter seemed a bit unlikely to us given the state of driving in Guatemala - speed bumps seem to be the only thing preventing the eradication of children and dogs - but a fellow traveller was pretty convinced that he had the inside track and soon speed bump outrage won out.
Eventually our shuttle bus returned for us and we hopped inside only to take our place in line at the blockade - where we stayed for over three hours. During this time we were able to determine that the strike was indeed a response to Monsanto. Interestingly, we also learned that a speed bump strike had taken place the week prior, but it was organized to protest the government’s desire to remove speed bumps from the roads.
In the end we had a relatively uneventful wait and then spent 5 tense hours weaving in and out of oncoming traffic, in the dark. Needless to say we were very glad to arrive at our final destination, a renewed support for the pro-speed bump movement in our hearts.
After we bought new tickets we got back on the road only to stop 20 minutes later at a gas station. We were dropped off, along with our fellow passengers and several bus loads of Israeli students, by our driver announced a thirty minute break. For the next two hours we sat and munched on Guatemalan convenience store snacks as more bus loads of young backpackers arrived with tales of roadblocks, burning tires, and rumours of a country wide strike. Initially there was some confusion as to the purpose of the strike – either it was a protest of the Monsanto seed monopoly and it’s destruction of farming in Guatemala OR a protest of the number of speed bumps on the roads. The latter seemed a bit unlikely to us given the state of driving in Guatemala - speed bumps seem to be the only thing preventing the eradication of children and dogs - but a fellow traveller was pretty convinced that he had the inside track and soon speed bump outrage won out.
Eventually our shuttle bus returned for us and we hopped inside only to take our place in line at the blockade - where we stayed for over three hours. During this time we were able to determine that the strike was indeed a response to Monsanto. Interestingly, we also learned that a speed bump strike had taken place the week prior, but it was organized to protest the government’s desire to remove speed bumps from the roads.
In the end we had a relatively uneventful wait and then spent 5 tense hours weaving in and out of oncoming traffic, in the dark. Needless to say we were very glad to arrive at our final destination, a renewed support for the pro-speed bump movement in our hearts.
The chicken bus experience
From Antigua we travelled by chicken bus to Lake Atitlan in the highlands. Chicken buses are old, recycled US school buses that can be flagged down along their route. They are usually very colourful, with elaborate paint designs and decals adorning their windows. They are a great way to travel inexpensively once you get used to the bumping and jolting. Oh, and the nervous feeling in your stomach as you fly down steep roads, and the sharp turns taken at top speeds. Also, the drivers don’t always come to a complete stop, so people often jump on and off as the bus slows.
We made three bus transfers, which was a bit stressful. We hopped on and off buses, very quickly, but we were never sure that we were going the right way as none of the chicken buses had our final destination written on them. All of the drivers assured us that we had the right bus as their helpers rushed us on, but we were dropped off shortly after and rushed onto another. In the end we made it in great time and caught a ferry across beautiful Lake Atitlan to San Pedro La Laguna.
In San Pedro we decided to sign up for a Spanish language course and for five days we spent 4 hours, every afternoon, with our very patient instructor Lorenzo. I’m not sure that we proved to be very good students but we feel that we now have a much better grasp of grammar. Sadly this does not help our limited vocabulary. Yesterday Adam said “to eggs” as a farewell and I asked if a restaurant was boring BUT, the grammar was impeccable in both cases. Lorenzo, if you are reading this, we are going to continue to try harder and pronounce words properly. To eggs!
We made three bus transfers, which was a bit stressful. We hopped on and off buses, very quickly, but we were never sure that we were going the right way as none of the chicken buses had our final destination written on them. All of the drivers assured us that we had the right bus as their helpers rushed us on, but we were dropped off shortly after and rushed onto another. In the end we made it in great time and caught a ferry across beautiful Lake Atitlan to San Pedro La Laguna.
In San Pedro we decided to sign up for a Spanish language course and for five days we spent 4 hours, every afternoon, with our very patient instructor Lorenzo. I’m not sure that we proved to be very good students but we feel that we now have a much better grasp of grammar. Sadly this does not help our limited vocabulary. Yesterday Adam said “to eggs” as a farewell and I asked if a restaurant was boring BUT, the grammar was impeccable in both cases. Lorenzo, if you are reading this, we are going to continue to try harder and pronounce words properly. To eggs!
San Pedro La Laguna
San Pedro is located on the western shore of Lake Atitlan, which is a large body of water surrounded by tree covered hills and looming volcanoes. During the wet season it rains nearly every afternoon so we elected to have our Spanish class in the afternoon. This enabled us to use the mornings to explore the natural beauty of the area, when not poring over our homework assignments.
The highlights of our stay in San Pedro include: hiring a homemade fibreglass kayak and paddling in amongst floating rocks; walking into the next village, San Juan, known for its weaving products made by a women’s corporative; and climbing the San Pedro volcano. Well that last one is both a high and low point for us.
Although quite picturesque, the climb up the volcano proved to be slightly more difficult that we had envisioned from the ground. I had been feeling unwell that morning and an hour and a half into the climb I was sick to my stomach so many times, I decided that I couldn’t go any further. I abandoned the group and made the slow, shameful walk back down on my own. I passed another group as I went and very nearly vomited on the guide’s shoes. I tried to apologise but he laughed and accused me of drinking too much beer. I tried to explain that I was feeling unwell but he marched his group on, and I could hear him chanting “fiesta, fiesta” as he led them away.
Adam successfully made it to the top of the volcano but it starting pouring just as he did. He was only able to stay warm, he says, by using the emergency blanket from his survival pack to stay warm. He put this survival pack together before we left Canada and had been itching to use it. He denies this but the fact that he made me take his, perfectly good, rain jacket back down with me speaks volumes. Ironically the survival instructions printed on the blanket came off in the rain but, against all odds, he managed to figure it out and returned to town 7 hours later, covered in mud and soaking wet. When I found him he looked a bit like a limping, neon sheppard using a big walking stick and his orange blanket covering his head shoulders.
The last point of interest that I should mention is the stolen clothing ring that Adam is sure he uncovered. When of two t-shirts he packed went missing from a local laundry service in town, he repeatedly returned to the scene of the crime several times to harass the poor woman who ran the shop to no avail. But, it didn’t take long before he “put it all together”. There are a number of used clothing shops in San Pedro and he believes that the laundry shops sell clothing, taken from tourists, to the clothing shops who, in turn, sell it back to other tourists. He staked out the clothing shop nearest to the laundry but he was never able to find any actual evidence.
The highlights of our stay in San Pedro include: hiring a homemade fibreglass kayak and paddling in amongst floating rocks; walking into the next village, San Juan, known for its weaving products made by a women’s corporative; and climbing the San Pedro volcano. Well that last one is both a high and low point for us.
Although quite picturesque, the climb up the volcano proved to be slightly more difficult that we had envisioned from the ground. I had been feeling unwell that morning and an hour and a half into the climb I was sick to my stomach so many times, I decided that I couldn’t go any further. I abandoned the group and made the slow, shameful walk back down on my own. I passed another group as I went and very nearly vomited on the guide’s shoes. I tried to apologise but he laughed and accused me of drinking too much beer. I tried to explain that I was feeling unwell but he marched his group on, and I could hear him chanting “fiesta, fiesta” as he led them away.
Adam successfully made it to the top of the volcano but it starting pouring just as he did. He was only able to stay warm, he says, by using the emergency blanket from his survival pack to stay warm. He put this survival pack together before we left Canada and had been itching to use it. He denies this but the fact that he made me take his, perfectly good, rain jacket back down with me speaks volumes. Ironically the survival instructions printed on the blanket came off in the rain but, against all odds, he managed to figure it out and returned to town 7 hours later, covered in mud and soaking wet. When I found him he looked a bit like a limping, neon sheppard using a big walking stick and his orange blanket covering his head shoulders.
The last point of interest that I should mention is the stolen clothing ring that Adam is sure he uncovered. When of two t-shirts he packed went missing from a local laundry service in town, he repeatedly returned to the scene of the crime several times to harass the poor woman who ran the shop to no avail. But, it didn’t take long before he “put it all together”. There are a number of used clothing shops in San Pedro and he believes that the laundry shops sell clothing, taken from tourists, to the clothing shops who, in turn, sell it back to other tourists. He staked out the clothing shop nearest to the laundry but he was never able to find any actual evidence.