Almost caught up now -- just a week behind...

Day 60 - "South of the Mexican border lies a country so breathtakingly beautiful, one would think upon entering it that he had been transported to Paradise. This land of mist-veiled mountains and lush, verdant jungles bursts with a profusion of rich and brilliant color from the riotous waterfalls of its tropical flowers to the shimmering plumage of its rare Quetzal birds. The country, of course, is Guatemala. And far from being a Heaven on Earth, it is a turbulent land that has been plagued with years of unremitting tragedy and a decades-long civil war."

A quote I found on the web, which couldn't be more true about what a fantastic experience my travel in Guatemala has been. And thus I headed out of that amazing country, back into the relative safety of Mexico. I didn't get to see the lava flows of Pacaya while I was there (which the picture above is of, though disappointingly not taken by me), and passed by a lot of other things, vowing to return to see them someday.

I made one quick side jog 8 miles out of the way to see my inspirational photo spot a final time, and then headed back to San Cristobal de las Casas, in Mexico. The border was very easy to cross back into, no bribe had to be paid, and once in the relative safety of Mexico I instantly felt like it was boring -- lacking the raw primitive nature of Guatemala. And also a lot more expensive...

Day 59 (afternoon) -

M I N D - B L O W I N G.

I have already used up all the superlatives I know, so I have none left to adequately describe how my last day riding in the mountains of Guatemala was. I just... have no words. I laughed (maniacally), I cried (very nearly), I screamed in frustration, I pounded my fist on bike, I swore at the country for keeping me a prisoner within... I stood in utter awe at the sights before me, I experienced things like never before...

I spent those last 45 Quetzales I had on a gallon and a half of fuel for the bike, and headed out in what I thought would be an easy, paved loop back to the border to Mexico. I didn't make it. Not this day, anyway.

The road wound higher, and higher, further north and away from the border, (and the road that my GPS showed). Then the pavement ended, and I rode for hours on graded dirt, through remote alpine forest. Eventually the dirt gave way to rough rocky cobblestone. For HOURS. I was so low on fuel and had no money left! There was no other traffic out there. The air was freezing cold and the wind howling -- I had the bike near 12000' and it was gasping for air. I was alone, on dirt roads, along mountain ridges with 6000’ drop offs on both sides. Dropoffs so intense I was getting vertigo. VERTIGO.

From time to time I would come across someone walking, and with EVERY person I stopped to ask if "this was the road to Nenton", the nearest large town I'd seen on the map. Two of them outright ran away from me into the woods. Of those that stayed to answer me (with the ones holding machetes I kept my hand on the throttle), I couldn't be sure with the answers they gave, if they were telling the truth or had no clue what I was saying and were just trying to be helpful. I tried to mix up the questions -- intentionally pointing the wrong way, etc., just to make sure they weren't automatically saying yes.

A pinnacle moment was when I had followed a dirt road for half an hour going down a ridge dividing two extreme mountain valleys, and came into a small cluster of houses. I stopped and asked a family sitting outside, if it was the road to Nenton. They stared at me for a second in disbelief, then started laughing. "No, the road to Nenton is over THERE" they said -- pointing 20 miles away at the other side of the valley, a 6000' deep chasm between. I had just coasted down the hill for 30 min conserving as much fuel as I could, and now had to throttle back up it. My rear brake had failed -- I guess there was some water in the line and it overheated.

Finally, after many hours, and just after twilight, I made it down into the jungly lowlands and stumbled into Nenton, finding a nice hotel for 30 Quetzales (~$4, which I paid using pesos). My last full day in Guatemala was one I'll remember for a long time.

Day 59 (morning) - In the morning I hiked out to the Pepajau waterfalls. It was actually slightly tricky finding them, only because I could only half understand the directions that Alejandro (the older guy whose house I slept in) gave me in Spanish.

On the way I walked by a house on the road where guy stopped me and told me to go back the way I came, that it wasn't permitted to go further. I asked why, and he said it's too dangerous -- many bad people in the woods. I said that Alejandro had told me it was okay. "Oh, well if Alejandro said it's okay, then go ahead!" he said in Spanish, seemingly without sarcasm. Ummm... so I kept walking, but with a bit of apprehension now...

I ended up missing a turn, and after 100 meters encoutered two guys, who told me I was going the wrong way. They also said it was very dangerous out here. I asked why, and they said there are packs of "javelins", little pig like creatures that hunt in packs of 6-8, and if you're alone, they'll attack you and eat you. But two or more people together are fine.

I said thanks for the advice, and walked back to the correct turn. They followed, and seemingly with a lot of concern for my safety, offered to show me the way to the waterfalls for 120 Quetzales. I didn't really like the idea of paying for a guide, but becoming increasingly worried about all the warnings I'd been getting, I agreed. However, I told them I could only pay in Mexican Pesos, because I had only 45 Quetzales on me. They said that was fine.

The waterfalls turned out to be only about 30 minutes away from there -- not too bad. However, most amazingly, I ran into another tourist of sorts at the base of the falls -- a French guy with his own guide (I think he was doing some university study). He said the story about the javelins was bunk -- there weren't any out there. Then he and my guides had a slight argument over whether or not it was true!

Regardless, we hiked to the top of the falls on a little used dirt path, where the stream is born straight out of the mountain. We all had a much refreshing drink from the nacimiento (spring).

On the hike back, all was well until it came time to pay my guide fee. The 120 Quetzales is around 180 pesos, at the current 1/1.5 exchange rate. However, my guide thought the current exchange rate was in fact 1/10. So he became furious when I gave him a 200 peso bill (around $16, quite high as it is!), telling me it was only worth 20 Quetzales ($2). What a pickle. I sure wasn't going to give him any more than the 200 pesos, especially since his story about packs of javelins was bunk! We argued for a bit, and finally I just walked away leaving him with the 200 pesos, hoping he wouldn't come after me with a machete. I made it back to the bike at Alejandro's without further incident, though, and headed on my way.

Day 58 - I said goodbye to Paul this morning. He is taking a shuttle bus back to Lake Atitlan, before leaving for home later in the week. I'm planning to head out of the country, hoping to be in San Cristobal, Mexico, by tonight. I'm going to make a small loop to the north, and hope to see some more mountains on my way. There are some 250 meter waterfalls on the way that I'll try to hike to, named Pepajau.

The guidebook describing how to get to the Pepajau waterfalls turned out to be pretty inaccurate on distances. In fact, the town it mentions starting the hike from, is many miles off the main road on a rough dirt track, at the bottom of a big valley.

I got to the bottom towards dark in advance of a large rainstorm, to find nothing else around but a few buildings. It was a good 45 minutes back out to the nearest town. A local guy VERY kindly offered me a bed in his house for the night! He is older, with a bunch of grandkids running around, so I felt safe. He actually kicked his father off the bed into another room for the night. The bed is absolutely filthy and there's no pillow, so I slept in my clothes on top of the covers. But it's better than the alternative, which is nothing. He said it's very dangerous here out of doors at night -- there are a lot of local guys who cause trouble, every single night. Hmmm...

In the morning he said I can hike out to the Pepajau waterfalls, which are a couple hours from here.

Thanks to the Cipro antibiotics (I think), the swelling on my elbow is gone, and it's now just red where the infection is. I'm not quite as worried about it as yesterday!

Day 57 - The infection on my elbow is now so bad that people on the street are asking me what's wrong with my arm. Thus I started a 10-day course of Cipro antibiotics today (bought OTC at the pharmacy). I am really worried, especially since hearing a story when I was in Lanquin of a girl who got a cut while vacationing in Africa, and had to have a doctor flay her arm open every day and debride the wound, or she would have lost her arm. :(

Paul and I went for a really nice hike today near Todos Santos, up to some small ceremonial caves. On our way back to town the skies darkened greatly and I kept thinking it would pour, but the rain held off.

We also snuck some extremely covert photos of the local Mayan descendants. It's really quite wierd seeing all the men with their pinstriped outfits. I mean that's all they wear! I kept trying to convince Paul to buy an outfit so he will fit in better (they sell the clothes to tourists too), but no luck :)

Tonight our innkeeper (a Swiss guy who has lived here for 15 years, married locally, and has two kids), told us the real story of the Japanese murder. It wasn't about taking a photo; it was actually even more crazy.

There had been rumors going around about a gang of "Satan worshippers" who were abducting children. Then, entirely coincidentally, a tour bus (painted black and grey no less!), full of Japanese tourists rolled into town. Out stepped a bunch of Japanese, some of whom were dressed all in black. They strolled around town for a bit sightseeing, and by chance a local girl tripped and fell next to one of them. One of the old Japanese men tried to help her up, and her mother, who apparently had been known for some mental instability, began screaming that the man was going to take her child and sacrifice her.

Of course the man let go, but some local guys stepped in and began roughing the old man. Then a young Japenese guy (30's I think), dressed all in black, tried to push them away from the older man. All the while the mother was screaming nonsense, but getting everyone riled up.

To make a long story short, the young Japanese guy got beaten to death, because they thought he was a "Satan worshipper" and wanted to sacrifice the girl. Then the townspeople wanted to search the bus for dead children, and the bus driver (a local Guatemalan) thought they were wanting to rob him, so he ran away. Unfortunately for him, they saw this as a sign of guilt and caught him and beat HIM to death.

A sad story, and the guidebooks don't tell it accurately. But it sure has cut down on tourists bothering the locals with taking photos!

Day 56 - Paul and I stayed up last night discussing what we should do next. He suggested going to a small village in the mountains a couple hours from here, named Todos Santos. It is quite strongly Mayan, and is unusual in that the men also wear traditional dress, instead of only the women as most everywhere else in Guatemala. The dress of the men is exclusively red pinstriped pants, blue & white pinstriped shirts, and a bowler's hat. No kidding!

However we have to watch out for taking photos there -- both Lonely Planet and Rough Guide tell of a Japenese tourist who took photos of a young girl in the year 2000, and it upset the townspeople so much they beat him to death, and his bus driver too!

The ride up to the town was really beautiful -- cloudy and misty with just a very light drizzle. I also crested over 11,400 feet on the bike -- the highest elevation I've ever ridden it!

Todos Santos is exactly the town I had pictured Xela to be in my mind -- very small, on a steep hillside, with chickens running around, one paved street leading to the main plaza and just a few cobblestone streets leading away from it. And it even has a couple language schools! Hmmm... maybe next time :)

In other news, I am quite worried about a bad infection on my right elbow that is spreading fast. I got a cut there a week ago in the candle lit cave, and it was healing fine, but I think my recent intestinal illness caused my body to overlook it, and now the infection is spreading.

Day 55 - Today I rode back to the Huehuetenango in the west on the glorious road I had taken last week (see day 49). It was sunny today, as opposed to the mist and drizzle I had experienced last time. Due to the good weather there was a lot more traffic on the road, and also a lot of dust from that traffic. Furthermore I was able to see the views in their entirety, instead of glimpses through the mist as before. All this combined resulted in not *quite* the spectacular experience as I had previously, sort of like once you know the secret behind a magic trick, it utterly shatters the illusion. The road was still very beautiful though.

I also saw some results of recent natural disasters. The first picture above is of a MASSIVE landslide that happened a year ago (they have rerouted a temporary road through it), and the second is of a bridge that was lost just last weekend from the rains of Agatha.

I talked Paul into heading to Huehue with me. The poor guy took a local shuttle bus, which followed other trucks the whole way, and he was eating their dust for hours! Thankfully I'm able to pass other vehicles much easier, so I usually don't have to put up with the dust for too long.

Day 54 - I just spent the last 36 hours in bed, sleeping nearly the whole time. I got a really bad intestinal infection the night before last, starting with vomiting and diarrhea, and followed by extreme dizzyness, malaise, throbbing headache, and nausea. I couldn't even walk straight. I haven't been this sick in years.

This morning my head felt clear, and I really wanted to get back on the road, though I'm still a bit queasy. I've made friends over the past couple days with a Belgium guy named Paul, and we decided to rendezvous in Coban, an hour away from Lanquin on the way out of here. Well, an hour for me on the bike, and 3 hours for him in the shuttle bus ;)

So I said goodbye to the thatched roof cabanas next to the river, and pointed the nose of the bike north, to start the long ride home.