Time to move on.

  Guatemala. 29/12/2011.

 After seventeen days of paradise, the need to continue the journey is paramount if I am to make it in time to Panama to board the Stahlratte http://www.stahlratte.de/panama_cartagena_tours_en.html    to transport me to Columbia. From Puerto Escondido I continue the journey alone as Flid had to unfortunately make the decision return to the UK to promote his forthcoming book on a previous travel expedition if he wants to reap the benefits of all the hard work and effort that has gone into creating the script. The book is called “Flid’s Travel’s”, you can buy it online. I am sure the content will make you laugh out loud and make you think a little. http://www.troubador.co.uk/book_info.asp?bookid=1656

 Paradise is all well and good, leaving is the problem, I have to adjust my mindset and outlook in order to cope. I have travelled alone before, so it is not a problem, I just need to buy a few spare parts and other items that we shared to deal with the worst case situation should it ever arise. It was a bit like starting all over again, but without the excitement. I made myself busy by cleaning my bike, the first time in 6500 miles and on Boxing Day I set to work. Nothing seems to stop here for Christmas, so the power washer at the car wash made the task easy. I was preparing for the border crossing to Guatemala, as I knew that the bike had to be fumigated. I am sure that a filthy one would incur an extra cost if I remember border crossings, as it would give the officer a good reason to extract more money from you.

  The border crossing at Talisman near the town of Tapachula was a “bun fight” to say the least. On the approach there were mobs of money changers and unofficial guides who all want your money. They can see a Gringo a mile off, and they swarm around you, standing in your path of travel forcing you to halt. They pull on your clothes and hang on to the bike and shout as loud as they can at you. Not a pleasant experience, you just have to ignore them and barge on through, but once clear of the touts on the entry, there are another bunch of vultures waiting within the border crossing. They will use any tactic they can to gain your attention, “Hey you stop” or “Don’t park there”, anything to make you feel threatened and rattle your self esteem. Border crossings are at the bottom of my list for the fun factor, I am always pleased to leave. I sometimes want to shout “Yippee”, into my helmet, but not on this occasion as I was unable to find an insurance office to buy cover for the bike. It is not always a legal requirement, like Mexico but I was not sure of the law, and not knowing makes for uneasy travel.

  Once clear of the Border I made a direct route to Coatepeque, a small town about 80 miles east of the Border. To make the progress a little more uneasy, there were many police checkpoints, I was lucky as they paid no attention to me. From the Border all along the roadside there were many vendors selling plastic bottles or cans full of petrol or diesel. This is often a concern as it would indicate that the cost of fuel in this country is very expensive, and of course the easy way to make a little profit is to nip over the adjoining Border and buy the fuel at a cheaper price and resell it. Add a drop of low grade kerosene to the brew as well, nobody will know, and the buyer will be miles away before he has trouble! I had a full tank, so no immediate worry, I passed a few gas stations, and at the advertised price it sure did appear to be expensive, but no worries really, the country is small and I have a 300 mile tank range. I was surprised to discover that the fuel is sold in U.S. Gallons, and that makes a lot of difference when calculating. Rather odd really, every thing else uses the metric system. When I arrived at Coatepeque, I stopped by the main central plaza and parked my bike with the safety of others.

Huge market,very noisy.

Taxi Bus, don,t even look at the youth. He will think that you want a ride. The van will screech to a halt if the brakes work.

 10 minutes of footwork and I had secured a hotel, so I can now relax and evaluate my new surroundings, and see what your money buys. But you first have to endure the terrible ordeal of dealing with the ATM cash machine. Having the card digested by the machine means big trouble in getting it back, and the main banks are not all that plentiful. You have to gamble your luck on the small Cajero’s found in little booths in shops. With cash in pocket, life on the road takes on another exciting dimension. To complete the thrill a decent road map of the country would make life even better, it would appear that maps are unheard of here, so that also explains the lack of road signs. I did however get a tourist map, with lots of pictures on it, and combined with the lonely planet one page reduced in size map I had enough information.

Street trader selling Taco's. 3 for £1.00. I lived to tell the story.

You can buy every thing but a map.

 Coatepeque was a crazy town; at best five hours rest was all you were going to get. I write this retrospectively, my hotel room was on a side street that came to life after sunset. The street food traders would set up their stalls and the cool would race around the central plaza.  Gone are the gas guzzlers of the fifties to the late eighties that still live and thrive in Mexico, its small Chinese motor bikes and quad bikes that make for cool here. They ripped around until the small hours, along with several mosquitoes’ that escaped my best assassination attempt with the hotel towel. There is noting more satisfying than the blood stain of a dead mozzie!

Only lightly loaded, you can get up to five if you try.

 Two nights were sufficient to encourage forward motion; the New Year would soon be upon me and the town of Huehuetenango was my intended destination. The highway took me through Quetzaltenango, to which there appeared to be no escape, lack of sign posts and good advice from natives still full of the Christmas spirit that sent me in the wrong direction. I eventually sussed it out, and made it to Huehuetenango.

Quetzaltenango City, from the hills.

The good fast road drops 12 foot without warning.

 The main highway avoids the Centro (town centre), I doubt if there would be much fun to be had on the outskirts of a dusty, dirty old town on New Years Eve. The town centre was a mass of one way streets jammed packed with market traders. It was still a through fare, I had to barge my way through the side streets crammed with stalls selling everything imaginable. I spied a safe sanctuary, a hotel. It cost me ten quid, the price had been doubled!! I think I was the only guest; I put it down to the very annoying musical Christmas tree that played messed up versions of Christmas songs. It played all night long; I should have set fire to it. I wandered every side street and every alley, there was a party brewing, but at 3000 ft the climate was cooler. That could change of course, within a nano second, as the astute Guatemalan street trader can double his money on New Years Eve by selling Fireworks along with Barbequed food. The age old game of throwing fireworks is still practiced here by street wise seven year old kids, you can still buy bangers and jumping jacks, and they too have realised that alley ways give the best results.

 Huehuetenango, New Years Eve 2011

 Living by daylight hours, and many miles had taken its toll, so it was hot chocolate from a cafe and to bed by nine. I had a treat; I had a pot of jam and some stale bread. Norman No-mates on holiday did not make a party. That Christmas tree was most annoying. The fireworks went on all night long. The dogs barked all night long as well. I was up early and left early, or tried too! The streets had the appearance of a war zone; there were many bodies comatose on the pavement and randomly around the roads. Possibly the worst town in the world, the dedicated were cleaning up after the event, while I searched for the way out like a drunk after far too many. I should had ignored the one way street signs and retraced my route by the sat nav. In the end I had a screen of spaghetti that meant nothing. There were no road signs or any clue on any given direction; I knew that I had to leave in a North Easterly direction to go in my chosen direction. I followed busses and taxis in the hope for an escape. Once I had seen a roadside Kilometre sign I knew that this must be the main highway. So a quick 180 degree turn, I feel that the direction is correct. Comparing the bread crumb trail on the sat nav map, all looks good, I am going in the right direction. Heading up into the hills the road changes to dirt track, the progress is slow. I have 30 days to get to Panama, I remind my self.

He is on the phone!!

The market blocks the highway. just follow the taxi.

Standing room only.

Land slide at Verapaz.

I found myself with no nearby town or accommodation.

I camped behind the gas station, the owner was only too pleased to help.

A wet ride to Salama

 It rained all night long, I shared my shelter with a cow, after all it was the cow shed. The roof had many holes in it, the rain drops thwacked on the tarpaulin covering my mosquito net. I did not get wet, but the rain persisted through the morning. Hoping to ride away from the weather and dry out often works, I made it to Salama, wet and not with the best of mood. The town under the grey sky was less than attractive, and I could not find the exit road in the chosen direction. I did find a hotel for the right money and with a south facing balcony with internet and that will do. I hung all my worldly possessions over the balcony to dry.South facing is good, but the sun was not coming out today so I had a shower and electric shock!

Dodgy wires, just as well it's only 110 volts.

  So I went to bed. But I did not sleep well, my mind was on other issues. I guess the feeling arises from the extended stay at Puerto Escondido, that ended up feeling like a holiday. Travelling is a tough game that you need a rest from to recover from the lifestyle every now and again. It is an individual thing, some folk can keep going, but my spirit is at an all time low at this moment. Turning round was an option, but not that straight forward, as I had recovered my temporary deposit from Mexico on the import document for the motorcycle, not a big deal I know as the bigger problem was could I recover my return journey from British Airways, as the best deal at the time of flying was a return ticket. I was sure that I had missed my chance, I did not buy the tickets and I had deleted all the correspondence from my emails. It is only money, I know, but I do not want to waste it, questions that cannot be answered in the dead of night. I also have many miles to reach Panama, and many borders to cross and for me at this moment in time could be too much to deal with if the thrill has gone. But I still want to see and feel the Andes, endure the Atacama Desert and see Machu Picchu. And I still want to punch the air when all is done, of course I will deny myself all of this if I quit. I could just be satisfied with Central America, maybe tackle South America another time. But that is all a waste of time and money when I am here and set up to do it. I know what I need to do, sleep on the situation, talk to a few people and feed the desire with food and a few familiar things that I am missing at this moment in time.I wrote a things to do list, get money, as yesterdays power cut shut the town down, get some photocopies of my documents to be one step ahead of the Customs at the border, and I need fish and chips! So I walked in town, It was a good sortie, I accomplished every task and found a new pair of fork gaiters for my bike, as one now has a hole in it. Just one thing, the fish was frozen, and I was worried that it could be tripe, which would be a terrible mistake at this moment.

No parts left over, it was a good job !

  I made proper fish and chips, with my stove and five Dollar frying pan, and very self indulgently  watched favourite music on You Tube, as the internet was good here. I also posted on Horizons Unlimited, just in case there were other like minded going in the same direction, as it always helps to bounce plans and ideas between one another. I had previously that day spoken to Flid on Skype, he has been there too, and told me what I needed to hear. Sometimes there is too much choice, and that makes decision making difficult alone. After a nights sleep, I feel I may have cracked the problem and continue towards El Florido for border crossing to Honduras.