Lost in translation

Part of the week-long fair in Flores,
these lovely ladies are danced through the streets daily as part of a folklore story  

The marimba gets carted around the streets behind the ladies

Being severely handicapped in the local language can have many interesting outcomes. Conversations inevitably end in internal frustration, external awkwardness and communal confusion. On one hand, you are limited to repeating the same conversation daily. Not only are conversations about what I had for breakfast yesterday, what I am having for breakfast today and what I will have for breakfast tomorrow utterly boring for the obvious reasons, but also because breakfast is ALWAYS eggs, beans and tortillas. Perhaps a refried plantain on the odd occasion to stretch my vocabulary a bit.

The semi-outdoor smkoy kitchen where our beans, eggs and tortillias are ritually produced.
Note the meat smoking over the fire.

On the other hand, the inability to communicate can also have unintended but hilarious consequences. Vinko, Rosita (15) and I were watching cartoons and nursing our common cold when a young cousin wanders in and mentions something about some accident in a nearby town and a big building on fire (or simply a big fire?). When pressed, more details about an accident and the possibility of cars being involved emerged, followed by a definite confirmation that whatever happened happened on the road and something else about “muchas personas” and something about being dead.  Later we enquire about the fire and/or the accident, but nobody else seems to know anything about it.

This is how the traditional bollos were made:
mazie porridge stuffed with beans, then wrapped in banana leaves,
then steamed in a giant tub over the fire for a few hours. Any takers?

The next morning Doña Rosa, mama of the house, sits down with us and explains that the main meal of the day will be in the evening instead of at noon as is usually the case.
 
“Is it because it is Sunday?” we ask.
“Yes, it is Sunday.”  Close. Keep fishing.
“Is it because of church?”
“Yes, I am going to church this morning.” Closer.  “The meal is a special traditional meal called bollos – it´s usually made this time of year when the festival in Flores is on.” Bingo! 
 
But then a string of words came at us like bullets, of which we caught on to: “I´m going to church this afternoon… death… traditional meal… walking… 3pm…” Pause.  “…cousin of Don Carmen… muchas personas… the festival… go if you want…”
 
“Death? Was it because of the accident last night?” we tentatively enquire.
“No… No accident… … … … … … … … muchas personas… walking.”
 
Righto. Afterwards we agreed that whatever it was, we were being welcomed to participate in the events of afternoon. We returned home around 3pm, certain that we at least understood its significance as the start of some activity. We snuck into Darling’s room, armed with dictionary and notebooks.
 
“Vas a ir a la iglesia este tarde?”  [Are you going to the church this afternoon?]
“No.”
“Y Doña Rosa? Ella va a la iglesia ahora?”  [Is Doña Rosa going to the church now?]
“Si.”
“Porque?” [Why?]
“Por la entierra de la sobrina de Don Carmen.” Frantic dictionary search ensues. 
“A funeral? His niece died?”
“Si”. Ah.
 
Now what? We retreat to our room to consider our options. Under the impression that it was some traditional fiesta that started at the church and walked through the street ending in traditional food, we had nodded enthusiastically that we would like to tag along to experience local culture when Doña Rosa invited us along this morning.  But now there was a body, a burial and “muchas personas” involved. Vinko – dictionary in hand – trotted back to the house to express proper condolences and to kindly decline the invitation to attend.

A few minutes later he returned.
 
“I understand now what happened.”
“What?”
“There was an accident. The lady was a relative of Carmen´s.”
“Yes, his niece right?”
“Yes. She had diabetes… and she was very sick… and she got kicked in the head by a horse.”


Raised eyebrows. Suppressed laughter.
 
“It´s not funny. It was an accident.”  Pause.  “Rosa definitely said a horse.”  Pause.  “Although I´m not sure which one happened first - if she was kicked by the horse before she got diabetes. I mean, I don´t know if it was the horse or the diabetes that killed her.”  Pause.  “But she died.”

Moral of the story? In life (and translation) only death is certain.

The view towards the east from a restaurant in San Andres. You can see San Jose on the peninsula. 

A Tribe of their own

One of the reasons why I personally like travelling so much (aside from the evolving scenery and sense of discovery, which rank top on the list) is the transient, non-committal feeling of it all. I like the constant shift between being here and being gone, being part of a defining moment in time and taking off before the moment loses its magic, the feeling that any of these haphazard, kindergarden-constructed days could change your life. The sense of freedom and wonder is exhilirating, addictive. Because of the fleeting feeling travel necessitates, it is unusual and more concrete when you get to experience moments within a group. The combined energy of the tribe opens a whole other universe of potential.

First encounter camping at Lake Peten. Sunrise at El Encantandero campsite

Westwards across Lake Peten.

We had a feeling like this between Christmas and New Years when we stayed in Flores, a heritage island in Lake Peten where the little Spanish stone houses were built on top of an old Mayan city. Cobblestone roads, colonial houses painted in M&M colours, flowerpots on the balconies... you get the picture. And in this charming town, in one of the colourful houses is Los Amigos Hostel, complete with a garden courtyard, yummy restaurant, bookshelves, a parrot a cat and a sausage dog, oversized pillows and plenty of hammocks. And a resident community of travelling macrame artists (the kind my sister would call nasty-ass-cracker-backbackers, complete with dreadlocks and flappy hemp pants), who loved the place so much that they have been stationed in the same hammocks and pillows for over 3 weeks working away at bracelets, necklaces, earrings and the like. This groups became our tribe, no thanks to the fact that Vinko picked up some macrame skills in Cancun and was keen to expand his repertoire (191 things you didn't know about Vinko!) We didn't quite join in the Kumbaja singing on the last night, but I was genuinely sad to part with these people three days later.

But we were barely on the road when we met the first member of another phantom tribe we belong to: the Crazy People on Bicycles Tribe. Everywhere we have been so far, the people who weren't utterly shocked at our travel methods were the ones who had encountered a bike tourist before. We keep hearing about this mysterious Swiss guy who always seems to be 2 weeks ahead of us, or another couple from 2 years ago. And more are coming out of the woodwork weekly, for example a Cairo to Cape Town rider raising funds for Tour d'Afrique Foundation. We were starting to doubt the authenticity of the rumours since we have not met any other cyclists. But on our way out of Flores we met Anna, an Aussie going all the way from Alaska to Argentina on bicycle. She's been going for about 18 months now, and has covered over 22,000km. With our day-glo orange milk crates and clearly ghetto arrangement of bags, it was no wonder that she could barely contain laughter. It was both an inspiring and intimidating first encounter with the phantom tribe.

Our current tribe is the community in the small village of San Andres, where we are living while struggling to get a grip on the Spanish language. We love it here. A bundle of colourful houses with rusty tin roofs tumble down the green mountain, connected by impossibly steep roads and hidden cobblestone stairways that usually lead nowhere but will dead-end with a spectacular view of the lake below. In the oppressive midday heat (welcome to winter in Peten province!) it's a ghost town - save for some feral dogs skulking around - but at sundown kids spill out onto the roads to play football, neighbours sit on front steps to share jokes and a lone fisherman cuts across the violet, pink and orange surface.

Streetscape, San Jose (2km from our house)

Sunset from Ni'Tun Ecolodge, New Years Eve

San Jose, about 2km east along the lake from San Andres

Our host family through the Eco-Escuala de Espanol program is Don Carmen and Dona Rosa Chabin. The family currently has 8 members living here, although some other rooms around us are rented out to include another 6 or so people milling around at the call of the rooster, which never fails to be at some random hour like 3am. We have our own little bungalow (glorified play hut), which looks across the short side of a 5x10m courtyard into the "open-plan" hand-wash laundry. Behind that is the "semi-open-plan" kitchen where Darling makes over 100 tortillas on the fire every day to feed the hungry masses. A cold shower ensures that everyone gets 2 showers daily without a line up. It's an ideal detour into village living for us, although the communal nature means that we are all sharing the same common cold now. I guess it comes with the (tribal) territory.

Part of laundry day (everyday) - this sweet arrangement is right under our window

An adventurous holiday

We arrived in Guatemala around 10 in the morning of 23 December, leaving Belize and the comforts of conversing in English behind. Our initial enchantment with the country was again dampened a bit by its magnificent hills - beautiful to look at but absolute torture to ride up. When all else failed (which it did), we had the pleasure of pushing our bikes up a monster of a hill for 35 minutes straight.

Once we arrived at El Sombrero Ecolodge, we had vivid flashbacks to our time in Vietnam, where showing up independently and unannounced will reward you with blank stares and a good serving of bewilderment. But the location right on the Yaxha laguna and only 3km from the archeological site is unbeatable. It's also the only option in a 20km radius or so, and we were thrilled to camp up in the little "tree house" platform for a mere $5.

This is camping luxury my friends - El Sombrero Ecolodge, Yaxha

Our visit to the ancient Mayan city of Yaxha, which flourished during the Late Classic period, was magical despite an unusual arrival. My brakes were acting up the past 2 days, so we arrived at the bottom of the gravel hill to find a large group of American tourists pointing in our direction and looking rather disappointed that all the raucous was caused by a silly girl on a bike rather than a jaguar chasing some wild pigs down the hill. I believe the whole saga was captured on at least 6 camcorders to enthrall the family back home with... apart from this group who left after taking a few photos, we had the whole site to ourselves. Yaxha is structured around a central axis with one of the avenues stretching down the hill to connect directly to the lake. We climbed the stairs from the lake through the forest and progressed through grassy tree-covered mounds to half uncolvered small structured to perfectly restored temples. We sat for a long time on top of one of the temples that towered of the green canopy listening to the howler monkeys and contemplating human nature and the rise and fall of civilizations.

Christmas dinner was a turkey with all the trimmings, shared with the owners of El Sombrero and two German bird watchers who were visiting an insane number of mayan sites on their short trip. Pre-dinner we realised that we didn't change enough money at the border, and we were already $3 short to pay our bill, and the closest ATM is a day's ride away. Hunger won, and it was decided that we would feast for Christmas Eve and spend the following day (Xmas) tagging along on the Germans' tour to a remote Mayan site called El Naranjo, since they were passing through a town with an ATM on the way.

We started the El Naranjo adventure at 9am. Sebastian was driving, Gabriella was commentating, Carlos - a short but sharp Mayan man we picked up along the way - was giving driving directions through the cattle fields and what little jungle remained, the Germans were checking their watches and looking anxious, and we sat in the back of the pick-up bouncing around like popcorn and not knowing where we were or where we were going. By noon we had to call a mechanic out to the rocky road to come and remove some small rocks from the brakes. By 1pm we were a mere 4km from the site when the road disappeared into a meter deep cement-like black mud (a guaranteed stuck) and we had to turn back. By 2pm we had backtracked most of the way, found an alternative path, asked permission from the farmer to cross his land, removed some trees from the road and now stood facing a locked gate ($%#?????) at the bottom of a steep hill. Reversing was not an option, turning around was impossile, and my suggestion of just ramming the gate down was disapproved. By now the Germans looked thoroughly distressed. We ate some wild mushrooms while we waited for Sebastian, who had hiked 2km back to get a key, to return. We figured any outcome from the mushrooms would be an improvement to the situation. We were disappointed.

At last the key arrived, we crossed that last of the 5km on a track barely fit for horses and arrived (Merry Chistmas!) at 3pm at El Naranjo archeological site. The site is currently being consolidated by a team of over 100 people, who were all home for the holidays, so we wandered through the completely deserted site in peace. Carlos - the Mayan guy - worked at the site for 8 months drawing every piece of the main temple for the catalogue, and he had lots of cool information to share. As with other post-classic sites impending doom could be foretold by the architecture: the rish and powerful lived in impossibly high structures; they built their own courtyards high in the shy and walled off the entrances to avoid contact with the suffering masses. Ornately carved walls were not as common anymore and the building stones were much smaller because the quarries were depleted. The sacrificial temple was hence augmented. Again we pondered civilization.

We had a really adventurous Christmas, but we did miss our families and a more familiar festivity. We hope you all had a wonderful time and relaxed till you were bored!

Acknowledgments

We wanted to start 2011 by thanking some people who truly deserve it. Travel adventures such as this one are not possible without the support of truly good hearted people. Our ability to carry out this trip is not through our means alone, to the contrary there is a long list of people in the chain that streches from its inception to the present day. The successes of our travel belong in part to the people that made it possible. This page is dedicated to these colorful individuals.

First and foremost, thank you from the bottom of our hearts to our families for all their support and most importantly for loving us for exactly who we are despite our crazy ideas. A big thank you to all our friends back home, wherever that may be, who stood besides us at the crack of dawn sharing outmost optimism. Our dear friends, you are all part of a much bigger family, we gauge our sanity by you.

Thank you very much to Paco and his dear friend Jesus in Cancun for setting us off on the right foot. For taking part in our adventure and providing the neccesery pushes along the way, thank you - the capable hands at Hadza Bikes in Cancun; Luis and Fabian in Puerto Morelos; Wilbert and son of Santa Fe Cabanas in Tulum; Pepe and the welcoming staff of CESiaK, Dan Hazard of Xamach Dos; the whole loving community of Punta Allen; Manuel at Caseta Santa Teresa in Siaan Kaan; Rheine and Elka of Laguna Azul in Pedro Antonio Santo; Stefan and Romana from Austria; Oscar de Alba of Kuuch Kaanil in Bacalar; Manuel and Mansul for Chachoben; Nathalie and Eduardo of Backpackers Paradise in Sarteneja; Katherine from New Zealand; Rawell, Lance and family Pelayo of Lamani Riverside Retreat in Orange Walk Town; Angie and Mick Webb with family of Crooked Tree Lodge; Gabriel the bamboo rasta of FaceItProductionBambuMe; Margo, Brittany and Aretha at Monkey Bay Wildlife Sanctuary; Tim and Corey from Calgary; Rod at The Olde Mill; Marcus and Theo along with their family of Parrot Nest Lodge in Bullet Tree Falls; Abby and Owen from Washington; Nicole from San Francisco; Sandra from New York; Mick Fleming, Lucy and Brionny along with the entire world class staff at Chaa Creek Lodge; Dosio and family of Macal River Camp at Chaa Creek Lodge; Teo and Ramona from Seattle; Sebastian de la Hoz Moretti and his mother Gabriela of Ecolodge El Sombrero at Laguna Yaxha; Jeronimo and his staff of hostel Los Amigos in Flores; Catarina and her amazing groundskeeper Jose of El Encantandero at Jobompiche; Lorena, Bernie and staff of Ni´tun; John, Ally and family from New York...and the list continues to grow.

To all of the above people, a heartfelt - thank you, baie dankie, mnogo hvala, muchas gracias!

Taking a break at 6 weeks

After puffing into San Ignacio, we puffed our way out again 5km north to Bullet Tree Falls, a pleasant little village that lies lazily on the banks of the sparkling emerald Mopan River and just a spit away from Guatemala. It turns out that Marcus and Theo, our very generous CouchSurfing hosts, run the Parrot Nest Lodge. Imagine our giddy glee when we found out that we were to have our very own bungalow, a definitive upgrade from the floor space we were expecting! Vinko had been suppressing a cold and at the first sign of friendly faces and homey comforts he released the floodgates and we spent the next five days taking it easy, getting cruisy with the guests and locals, and generally just getting our shit together. 6 weeks on the road will leave you in a bit of a spin, mind the pun. We also found out that the memory stick containing all the photos of the trip thus far decided to keel over and die on us. So we needed a few days to mourn and drink away the pain of this loss. Trust me folks, I'm more disappointed than you that we don't have any glitzy images to keep you reading this post ;-P

Rio On pools and waterfall at Mountain Pine Ridge

The Croat Haka amidst the natural water park of Rio Pools

Danger mouse through slippery slide waterfalls

Bullet Tree Falls and the surrounding area has so much to offer: multiple winding rivers, lush mountains, deep valleys, caves, Mayan sites, waterfalls, real cheese and whole wheat bread... Marcus - being wildly extroverted and always up for anything and everything - knows all the local hide-outs, which places has happy hour when and you can hardly walk half a block without loud greeting being swapped across the street. We spent mornings at the colourful market trying all the concoctions of fruit wine (carrot wine anyone?!?), happy afternoons floating down the river on tubes, and never-ending evenings downing super cheap cocktails at Meluchi's, a little bar operating from a 12 foot container overlooking the cemetery and blaring with either reggaeton or karaoke (great fun, especially considering the super cheap cocktails). We also got the chance to splash around in the Rio On Pools and Black Rock Falls at the Mountain Pine Ridge Forest Reserve. The myriad of pools and waterfalls are freezing - what were we thinking?!?!?

Black Rock Falls, home of the brave, Tarzan´s playground

Lady in red, just downstream from Black Rock Falls

Marcus and Owen showing off their Carrot and Craboo wines at Parrot Nest Lodge, Bullet Tree Falls

But all is not play for this travelling duo... oh no sir, we also had to visit Chaa Creek Lodge as part of our research. Marcus and Theo are good friends with the owners of Chaa Creek, Mick and Lucy, who came to the property in the late 70s as crusty backpackers who survived on picking beans and taking their produce to the San Ignacio markets in a canoe. So there is hope for us yet! Despite the fact that the lodge was fully booked for Christmas and very busy, Mick carted us around in his little 4WD gold-buggy while doing his rounds and we got to learn so mush about the property and its evolution into the amazing place it is today. The number one thing that we learned at Chaa Creek was the importance of great staff - each person seemed proud of the place and happy to be there, and we felt special because they were so pleased to be of assistance. Spending time at the lodge was inspiring and it ignited us to start pedalling again to go seek our piece of paradise. Good thing too, since the looming hills towards the west was not a motivating thought even on the best of days! Onwards to Guatemala!

Betta is bigga, is greatta! Sign at Rio On Pools, Belize

Speed bump = sleeping policeman, literal is betta in Belize, Cristo Rey Village

Northern and Central Belize

Belize has kept us busy! We have met the loveliest people in some beautiful places, and spending time on the internet has not been high on our priority list. We just cruised into San Ignacio in Western Belize, although the term "cruised" is a bit of a stretch of the imagination - we just encountered the first of the hills on this ride and "huffed" is a much more honest representation of our arrival into town! For those in the know, San Ignacio area reminds us a lot of Montville & Maleny in QLD, and Pai in Thailand.

To back-track a little bit: Arriving in blue-green Belize was simple and straight forward, and actually quite a mind-trip. As soon as we got stamped, the music changed from Spanish ballads to Reggae, "Hola!" was bumped out of the way by "Hey Mahn!" and there was no mistaking that we were in Belize. Sugar cane field and sapphire lakes sprang up around us as we rode on one of only three highways in the countries - a roughly tarred, unmarked road that is just wide enough for two cars to drive on. And the mosquitoes! They show up in armies and show no mercy! We veered off into Corozal, which has a bit of a seedy feel but a great little internet cafe, and camped out that night with our two Austrian friends from Bacalar, Stefan and Romana, ready to set off to Sarteneja by boat the next day to avoid riding on the highway.

See Ma - no trees, walls or fences required!

Now, Sarteneja is a little fishing village on the end of the Shipstern Nature Reserve, 60km from the next town of any mention. And that 60km is not an easy ride - it is to date the worst road we've been on. The whole road was rocks the size of potatoes with sharp edges, so no matter where you rode, it was catastrophic. We decided that secondary roads in Belize wasn't going to be worth it. Upside is that we did go past a whole whack (pun intended) of Mennonite settlements, where all the kids passing us on horse-carts looked like brothers and sisters.

Literally THE WORST ROAD EVER - (Little Belize to Orange Walk)

In Orange Walk Town, we did our second tour-activity and took a boat down the New River to the Lamanai Archeological Reserve. The boat ride itself was spectacular - clean blue water, lush vegetation, birds and critters galore and we even had two spider monkeys come on board to grab some bananas. A classic case of Monkey See, Monkey Do: because they are the only two monkeys on the island and they only encounter human tourists, they walk on their hind legs when they come onto the boat. Apparently Lamanai was the only Mayan city in the larger area to flourish during the Late and Post-classic Mayan Period, so its architecture is unique and the culture was much different that many other cities of the time. We got our first sighting and sound-clip from the Howler Monkeys, who happened to have a territorial war going on in the canopy above our heads. Imagine this: you're 8 people in a jungle, age-old ruins around you and it sounds like the banshees of hell are closing in on you. Incredible experience though!

Dos platanos (spider monkey on Lamanai tour)

High Temple at Lamanai, and yes we are at the top there...

We headed down the highway to Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary, where our trip almost ended. Not in a bad way - we stayed for 3 days with Angie, Mick and their kids (Zach and Cory) at the Crooked Tree Lodge; we loved the lagoon and serenity of the place, they needed a cook for the busy season. I won them over with a potato dish and it was a close call, but in the end we decided to seek our destiny elsewhere.

Ghetto breakfast - old corn tortillas given new life by topping with peanut butter and bananas before toasting in the pan!

Good ol´classic southern barbecue meat at Slim´s Grill in Biscayne, Belize

Noah makes possibly the best Cashew and Blackberry wine in Belize, Sand Hill

The ride leaving Crooked Tree was hard, partially because we couldn't find a good place to stay along the way, and partially because my stubbornness wanted to get all the way to Monkey Bay Wildlife Sanctuary. The 85km ride was our longest yet, and we rested there for 4 whole days to check out the area and recover. After yoga in the morning, Tim and Cory, two motor bikers from Calgary (Dad, take note! Terranova Expedition - their Dec 12 blog has some photos of our day at the zoo!) gave us a ride on their bikes back to the zoo. The zoo was devastated by Hurricane Richard in October, but the staff did everything they could to ensure we still had a great day. Hats off to them. We got up close and personal with a python, tapiers, mountain lions and scarlet macaws. We even got to do a "roll-over, high-five" with a jaguar - so close that you could smell its breath and it was exhilarating. Jaguars are massive cats, much bigger than either of us anticipated. The next day we we cycled 20km backwards (one-way!) to Gracy Rock, a small Creole Village, with our new friend Alex who grew up in the village. It's a gorgeous little village on the Sibun river - we had to paddle a boat over the river to Alex's house. Him and his family was very kind to us and it was his birthday coming up, and I made him and the rest of the great people at Monkey Bay 2 massive lasagnas the night before we left.

Oh my god! Look at that beard!!! - Belize Zoo

The Schalk of envy, Tim and Corey from Terranova Expedition with one of the bikes

Bridge over Sibun River with Alex at Gracy Rock

Now we are in hilly country and apparently the hills towards Guatemala are even more difficult. So wish us luck - we'll be heading out there probably in about a week!

Adios Mexico, Bienvenidos a Belize

The last week in Mexico was a tumble dryer; we travelled quickly and struggled in parts of the wilderness, pampered ourselves at an ecolodge and lay-low for a while in a campers hideaway paradise, and even played a small role in the theartical drama of a bustling populated albeit little Mexican town.

The boat to Punta Herrero from Punta Allen was in the end a mystery never to be resolved, the weather did not improve, at least not within a reasonable time bracket for our trip, and we took the rugged road through Sian Kaan to get to Felipe Carrillo Puerto. Cycling through the middle of a biosphere reserve jungle as four o'clock swings around, the day begins to yawn and you have no clue where you will sleep that night can heighten the stress levels just a tad. Luckily for us the lesser visited Caseta Santa Teresa did in fact exist and came just at the saving tick of time, Manuel the ranger working there was a saint and showed us into the very comfortable military style sleeping quarters and bathrooms. We had a great nights sleep after a well deserved warm meal and loads of liquids.

We reached Felipe Carrillo Puerto well into the afternoon after another tough ride and a minor puncture in Sian Kaan. The road closer to Carrillo seemed to be the hunting ground for many a poacher or logger, it was a sad sight to see the scars left behind as layers of jungle were torn out of the thick vegetation. A quick stop at the first little mini-mart, a few cold cokes later and we found a hotel to rest for the night. That evening and early the next morning we enjoyed the delights the regional town markets of Mexico tend to offer, fresh licuados and hot empanadas - yumm!

After the Sian Kaan adventure, the rough nights sleep in Carrillo and lots of headwind, the 75km ride to Pedro Antonio Santos for our next stop was a real, real tough challenge. We crashed for a quick lunch and a rest in one of the random staggered yellow concrete bus stops along the highway. We reached our destination late into the day, it was a beautiful end to our ride - the wind calmed, birds and grasshoppers flew across our view of the setting sun. We rode in these calm, dry and comfortable conditions until reaching the turn off to Laguna Azul, a German run camping and cabana hang-out on the northern edge of the Bacalar Laguna. We stayed for two magical and relaxing nights where we came to a deeper understanding of why people tend to move to live at the edge of a lake.

Vinko and Stefan attempting the world's first canoe launched Kite Surf, Laguna Azul

Our stay in Bacalar was eco-romantic at the Kuuch Kaanil cabanas, again the stunning lake and the relaxing setting made it difficult to cut our stay any shorter (we stayed for three nights). While staying with the nice people at Kuuch Kaanil we explored the lake for half a morning with a couple from Mexico city who were staying there on a friends recommendation. Our guide Angel took us to a 120 meter deep cenote (Cenote Azul - often used by deep sea free divers) as well as gliding through the Canal de los Piratas, a channel used by logging pirates local from the region who used to smuggle out mahogany to be used on expensive furniture made in England and Europe before the 20th century. This area is definitely going on our top picks list to return to and maybe start our eco-venture, it is truly amazing and very well worth looking after. The couple from Mexico city, Manuel and Mansul turned out to be extremely generous people. That afternoon they invited us to come along for a walk around Chachobben (they insisted on paying our entry fee!), a rarely visited group of Mayan temple ruins much more majestic and stunning that anything seen at Chitchen Itza - but this is probably largely due to the fact that you might well turn out to be the only person at the site to experience its calm wonder.

The mission ride to Belize turned out to be quite a bit more difficult (mostly due to head wind - again) and quite a bit further than we initially envisioned. We crossed the border after paying a departure tax to leave Mexico - a common feature it seems in most Central American nations. Right on the border between Mexico and Belize there is a place known as the free-zone, a place of bargain shopping with tax free prices the size of a smaller town, totally lawless and chaotic. Immediately upon entering Belize one could sense the striking differences in culture; the music, the accents, the clothing, the cars and of course the currency. We bought only necessary supplies in the free-zone and snatched a quick lunch at a road stall serving Mexican style buns with chicken and salsa, these went down well with a couple of soft drinks to quench our day's thirst.

We reached Corozal, our first destination in Belize, after a brisk hour ride from the border. Drivers on the road, again were very considerate and took sweeping lines to provide lots of clearance for us - this is even more remarkable when considering the fact that this was highway number one, a road with just enough space for two trucks to pass each other and no painted lines. Corozal is a cute little town with a lovely little central plaza or park, it had just the right number of shops and stops for us to stock up on supplies, get on the internet to complete this website (yay - milestone!) and get a night's rest. We got up very early the next morning for our boat transfer to Sarteneja, an end of the road seaside town with a more regional road access to Orange Walk - at this point our preferred travel route.

Three 250 horsepower outboards, that beats anything we saw as kids on Lastovo!

All in all, we miss Mexico already and having explored just a small number of gems that just the state of Quintana Roo had to offer, we pledge to return again sometime to explore more of this thriving middle ground and rich melting point standing between North and Central America. Belize it turns out, as we predicted, is already a lot more pleasant and friendly than people warned us along our route so far - but that's always the case, isn't it?!

Getting to Punta Allen

After the ride and the road, we figured that no matter how nice Punta Allen is, there is no way that it would have been worth it. To confirm suspicions, we are greeted with drizzle rain, gusts of wind and sandy streets in a gray bay. I'm sure it's lovely when the sun shines, otherwise what would truckloads of tourists be pouring in here for? (apparently it's for the dolphins and the turtles in the bay, and possibly the manatees in the lagoon).

The plan is to try and get a boat down to Punta Herrero on the next peninsula south. We wanted to go this way because we thought it would be a cool off-the-beaten-track experience and because I read somewhere that the highway from Tulum south is hideous for bikers (which ended up being old news - it was redone in 2009 and is now the same as the highway from Cancun with a great big shoulder for bikes). Because we are not herded around town in a tour group and we have time to kill, we talk to so many of the locals and we get varied responses about our P. Herrero inquiries. The "tours" quote us $500US, some people say it's impossible and eventually we find somebody who is willing to help us out and do the trip for about $130US. Now we just have to wait for the weather to improve otherwise the crossing is too dangerous.

We while away the days chatting to people, practicing our Spanish, discovering where to buy amazing fresh bread and honing our survival skills. Vinko comes running while I'm cooking dinner, and with a silly grin reveals a crab that he caught on the beach. We experiment with a cup of boiling water. It's strange in a primal way to watch the crab exhale a stream of bubbles and surrender to the inevitable. It's not very tasty. But it does make good bait, and the next day we spend 5 hours in waist high water out by the lighthouse catching fish. We caught 5 fish and feast like kings that night on our own version of fish and chips.

We also got to witness the festivities for La Revolution here. One morning we saw some little kids dressed up in sombreros and neck-scarves with wooden guns and mustaches drawn on their faces. Cute as buttons and chanting "Viva Mexico! Viva Punta Allen!" all the way to school.

We spend 5 days and 5 extremely windy, rainy, miserable nights in Punta Allen waiting for the weather to improve. I spent countless hours at night holding my breath and reminding myself that this was an alpine tent and that it surely had to withstand this terrible wind. But every morning the sunshine and clear skies deceive us into thinking that this will be the day... so we stay. It seems that many of the expats who are now locals came for a visit and never left. It's a bit of a strange thing, but again most people are super friendly and after a while we get waves on the streets and none of the tour touts bother to ask us if we want to go somewhere anymore. It was sitting in the back of Pierre and Alexandra's car talking about nothing and observing the tourists as if they were foreigners in my town that I realize the special opportunity we've created for ourselves by traveling this way, and I become really excited for our journey.

The pleasure of a pelicans hunt

The plan was to get to Punta Allen (another 30km or so down the coast) in one go. It's only 30km - how bad could it be? We almost disappear into another galaxy down one of the thousand or so potholes, only to dodge it and end up in another death trap of rocks and holes. So by the time that we hit halfway and see a sign for cabañas and cold beer, we don't even have to ask each other if we're stopping.

We enter Xamach Dos and meet Dan Hazard, artist / real estate agent from Seattle and King of his Own Empire down here in sunny Mexico. The beach is silky white sand scattered with a generous amount of shady palms, lazy hammocks dot the property and a shallow reef about 600m out turns the bay into a calm turquoise swimming pool. Five low impact bungalows are scattered around, one of which Dan built from driftwoo0d, washed up bamboo and rope, and conch shells. Dan let us camp on the beach and we had the whole place to ourselves. At night the bushes around us light up with fireflies. The food here is terrific - Francisca is the keeper of over a thousand recipes I'm sure and she treated us to a huge breakfast upon arrival, fresh caught snapper for dinner, home-made chipotle with every meal and the best banana-coconut pancakes in the whole universe.

I don't know if any of you have had the pleasure of watching pelicans hunting fish. I could (and did) lay for hours in a hammock and watch their kamikaze hunting techniques. First they sit in the water for a bit. Lord knows why the fish stick around for that. Then they clumsily take off, the whole time looking like an overloaded D6 airplane threatening to crash. But they make it up in the air, do a half circle and then hurtle themselves beak first and breakneck speed back into the spot they came from. Oh boy, and if there's two of them hunting the same fish? A delightful pastime indeed...

CESIAK - Centro Ecologico Sian Ka'an

The gravel road from Tulum to CESiaK is slow (but now, in hindsight and compared to the other roads we've been on since, it's not that bad at all!). It's located on a thin strip of jungle covered peninsula between the Carribean and a giant lagoon. After gaping at the oceans and enjoying being off our bikes, we wander up to the roof and I immediately lose my heart over the spectacular vistas of the ocean to the east and the sprawling lagoon and jungle to the west. My feet feel grounded and I have no desire to get off the roof - ever! But, the stomach speaks and we make our way downstairs for lunch. The people that are drawn to this place are great! Pepe is the manager and his support of our project means that we stay here two days to talk and learn and enjoy. We also meet some other travelers from Holland - Arjean & Lukas - and the time we spend hanging out with them just adds to our overall feeling of happiness. They are traveling from Alaska to Argentina over one year, and I learned about the beauty of Southern Lakes up in Yukon. We resolve to do a trip up there next time we're in Canada in the summer (road trip, family?)

The sunsets here are simply stunning. When you stand on the top of the roof you get a 360 degree view of Sian Ka'an. The sky goes pink and orange and reflects of the trees and the water until the lagoon swallows the glowing orb and everything goes purple. We enjoy another margarita on the pontoon on the lagoon (we figured it out: the secret is in the fresh lime juice!). Everything is in pairs. Two margaritas. Two cool zebra-looking box fish. Two random jellyfish float by. Two pelicans. A German and his crystal skull. Two by two we heal the world. We all unite for dinner, where out of nowhere we are invited to participate in a healing ceremony. I don't know whether it was the strangeness of the experience, or whether the experience was actually strange, but we all felt something. For what it's worth, I hope my healing energies went to CESiaK and Sian Ka'an and that they stay as they are for decades more.

Tulum: trials & tribulations (Nov 13 & 14)

The night we slept in Luis' house in Puerto Morelos I found an old Lonely Planet and read an entry about Cenote Dos Ojos. We had agreed that we would make that our main attraction in terms of cenotes. Now, standing before the guide, we were wondering what exactly would be good enough to warrant a $300 pesos entry fee each. But we said we would, so we did. And it was remarkable!

Dos Ojos is a series of cave cenotes that are connected by underwater passages (like all cenotes, except that the current is very mild and the caverns are close so you are able to snorkel and/or dive between these ones). The stalactites and stalagmites have lost their sense of time and direction over decades; some hang suspended in the ceiling, some dip into the water, and some poke out from the depths. It's incredible to see them through the torchlight and chase the little silver fishies around them. Blue light glows where divers have been swallowed in adjacent caves. It's another world.

The wind beat us to Tulum and by the time we get to a campsite we are having a pretty grouchy time setting up the tent in the wind and the sand. But these are the "perks" of camping on the beach. And it is next to the ruins, which in themselves are not that impressive although the setting on the cliff overlooking the ocean is very cool. Little Vinko faces off against the big bad world when we learn that the beach we came to swim at to see the ruins from the water is closed to the public.

The other "perk" of camping on the beach next to the ruins is that it turned out to be a prime spot for some pirateering. One of the main reasons why we forked out $150 pesos to sleep in our own tent on a patch of sand is that the owner told us that the beaches are not safe and that their place is secure. So when Vinko's first mumbled words to me the next morning was "Baby, why is this open?", we both bolted upright to find our tent flap open, pants and toiletries bag outside the tent, and wallet gone! But it was only one of the 6 stashes of cash (what's that saying again about eggs in a basket?), the stash was a bit depleted, and the looter had the decency to leave the ATM card and drivers' licence in the driveway. So it was a lesson learnt, but at least not a tragic one. For the special price of $100 USD we learned where we will and will not be sleeping in the future.

The road of bountiful cenotes

Not actually sure where we are going today (spotting a theme yet?). The Italian couple had mentioned a camp site down the coast, somebody else mentioned the beaches at Akumal and one of the tour touts said that Xcacel was gorgeous.

Along the way, the highway passes by many cenotes. The Yucatan Peninsula has an extensive underground fresh water river system, and the cenotes are those places where the rivers surface. Some of them are in the open as rock pools or mangrove mini-lakes, others are submerged in caves. The water in all of them are crystal clear. On a whim we stop by Cenote Azul, a series of open pools right by the highway. The scenery itself is beautiful, but spending a few hours swimming in the pools and lying on the rocks in the sun was priceless.

We're in such a spell that we miss the sign to the first campsite, and almost ride right past the tattered sign for Xcacel. Unfortunately, the guide José tells us that camping is no longer allowed in the park. It breaks our hearts for many reasons - not only is Xcacel a protected Marine Park (over 1000 turtles nest on its beaches - that's 10,000 baby turtles!) and the beach cove is the prettiest we've seen, but the though of either riding 11km back to the camp site or 20 km further to Tulum is downright depressing. We site silently by the mangrove cenote and ponder our options. Now, I cannot tell you where we spent the night, but let's just way that there are some really kind people in the world and we're always very humbled when we meet them.

Playa del Carmen

The way from Puerto Morelos to Playa del Carmen (or simply Playa among locals) is the same old highway, with the same old resorts on the left and golf courses and fancy estates on the right. We experienced the most amazing thing about Playa the minute we entered it: a roast chicken, chorizo, onion, tomato and chimichurri sandwich from the Italian dude at La Rosteria. Heaven on a plate.

After some deliberation about the clouds, we decide to spend two nights in Playa, and we have fun with all the hype, fountains, break-dancers and the people dressed in elaborate Mayan shaman costumes. We watch a turtle being hatched from the hands of a glass blower, so delicate and fine and I again wistfully state that one day I am going to make my own magnificent glass pieces. We find out that the cheapest beer in town is right next to our camp site (La Ruina) and we end the night sampling some of the local brews and watching Jurassic Park III with the barman. Wow.... the 90s....

Pit-stop in Puerto Morelos (Nov. 7 & 8)

We left Cancun at 15:15...

Loaded with our toxic-orange milk crates, we are definitely a road hazard while we get used to the weight on the back, the trucks hurtling by on the highway and the reality of it all. Fortunately the road has a massive shoulder that seems to be intended for bicycles, so we arrive in Puerto Morelos at sundown and without any problems. We are greeting with a plague of relentless mosquitoes. Still, the town is very cute (a pretty church, a tidy plaza and plenty of inviting restaurants), the night is near and we're scoping out places to stay. We had it in mind to pitch a tent on the beach, but a local tour guide who had a jolly time with some mates on the pier offers that we can camp at his place. Halfway between hesitant and desperate, we accept. However, suffice it to say that there must have been some translation issues with his perfectly good English, because Luis, ourselves and our bicycles ended up sleeping in his one bedroom cabaña hut that night. It was an interesting night, and despite being humbled by his hospitality in the end, we head out of there at daybreak.

A flat tire and plenty of cursing later, we realize that the bike racks will hardly make it Playa del Carmen, let alone Panama. We ride to the local side of town across the highway and spend the day with Fabio the Handyman Mechanic as he takes us from one person to the next to get the parts and welding done that make the racks indestructible (we hope!). Unlike the sweet little restaurants and hotels lining the beach, the real lives of Puerto Morelons happen on dusty roads littered with rusty bikes and machete'ed dogs. But it is lively, interesting and we feel safe because the people are genuinely kind and friendly. That night we slept between the fancy guesthouses, twinkling stars and terrible thorn-balls that will literally become the thorn in our sides for the rest of our stays on the beaches of Yucatan.

Off the Beaten Track

To follow in the tradition of sharing bike travel tips which helped us out greatly on this adventure, this page is a collection of links to our blog posts containing information on some of the trickier routes we took on our travels, most of these are not available online and some not even from the local community. These will be useful as travel guides for anyone wishing to cycle through the same routes in Central America we took on our trip.

Punta Allen to Felipe Carrillo Puerto (Mexico)
This is a detailed description of the much mystical road that goes through the heart of Sian Kaán connecting the Punta Allen peninsula and the inland town of Felipe Carrillo Puerto.
- 75km through Sian Kaan
- The lookout tower
- Caseta Santa Teresa
- Pictures
- Detail Map



Felipe Carrillo Puerto to Bacalar and beyond (Mexico)
The newly upgraded federal highway heading South out of Carrillo has made traveling this route a lot safer and quicker for bikers.

The highway from Felipe Carrillo Puerto all the way to the border of Belize was upgraded less than a year ago. As a result it was pretty easy and safe for us to take the federal route with a two meter wide shoulder on the side. The road was exactly the same as from Cancun down to Tulum.


- Maya ruin on the side of the road in Limones


Corozal to Sarteneja (Belize)
We took a quick boat transfer to reach Sarteneja which enables us to ride to Orange Walk via a less major road.

We took a boat from Corozal to Sarteneja to check it out and avoid the main road to Orange Walk, this route should be nicer and more interesting.


- 7am boat from dock
- $40 belize for person and transport of bike (just seat is $25)
- 35 minute ride


More interesting roads to come...

Canned in Cancun (Nov. 2-6)

Ahhh... the tropics! The humidity greets you like, well, a slap in the face. We hit the ground running, opting out of the many tour-group mini buses that swarm you inside the airport terminal and making our way to the very cheap ADO bus stand (ask in the Departures terminal, it's $3.50 each instead of $15US each for the mini). Not that there would have been any point to taking a mini - we had no idea where we were gong yet. I was waiting for confirmation from my CouchSurfing host to see whether we had a place to stay for the night. We wander around town and come across the festivities in Parque las Palapas for Dia de los Muertos. We get our first tasty nibble of Mexican food, traditional dancing and modern Mexicana fiesta music. We can't wait to sample more of it all.

Our host's name is Francisco, and we learn that night about Mexican nicknames: Francisco = Paco, Jesus = Choy... We are 5 couch surfers staying at Paco's - one in a bed, 1 in a hammock and 3 on the floor. It's lively and most are great people. Nicholas from Argentina teaches us how to weaver bracelets. It takes us a short century - he completes 3 for every one that we do. Paco's friend Jesús is a champ. We just asked for some advice on second-hand bikes or bike shops and the next day he arrives with a car, a list of places to check out, a few call-backs from bike sales in the classifieds and a world of patience. It is the friendliest welcome to Mexico I could have imagined. It looks like we will need to stick around for another couple of days to get the bikes and equipment all sorted out. We have a ball playing charades for hours with the guys at Hadad bike shop. How to explain all the crazy alterations we want to the bikes? They are equally helpful and patient and we're forever grateful for their help.

Since we had some time to kill while waiting for the bikes, we spend a day at the beaches in the Hotel Zone. It reminds me of the Gold Coast, but worse. This is where all the monstrosities of giant hotel complexes congregate so tightly that we walk along the beach for 8 km looking for access back to the road before we give up and are ushered like criminals through one of the hotels back to the road.

Since the beaches held little appeal for us, we headed to the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza the next day. Castillo de Kukulcan was the only real draw-card for us, since Vinko did some simulations in Sketch-Up of the serpent sliding up the temple and wanted to see the structure n real life. There are more hawkers than stones in the complex, and we're a bit relieved to leave after only 2 hours. We catch another ADO bus to Valladolid. We arrive blind again and meander through the cute little streets. Valladolid is charming and we're pleasantly surprised. There are beautiful plazas, old colonial buildings in great shape and a real Mexican cantina with swinging bar doors, casual gambling on the bar and pictures of naked women on the wall. I get a few confused looks when we enter, but two gentlemen get up and offer the lady their table. We just can't resist this gem and have ourselves some giddy cervezas. With limes. And salt. Giggle giggle.

Places We Stayed

Along the road we ended up in a number of different places, some were an utter delight to rest for the night and others somewhat different. Below is a list of all the places we stayed that are worthy a mention. Obviously we stayed at the ecolodges listed elsewhere on our site too, but these have a special page just for themselves - click here to read about them

Accommodation by Country:
Mexico (Quintana Roo)
Belize
Guatemala
El Salvador
Nicaragua

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Mexico (Quintana Roo)
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Playa del Carmen

Las Ruinas, Playa del Carmen

(review on Trip Advisor)

This is a lovely little place that caters for campers and is located right on the beach in the centre of town. Should I say more? Well yes actually, they had showers (both inside and outside for when you needed to rinse off some sand from the beach), toilets and even an easy access outdoor sink with a mirror. You could camp under a solid roof or simply sleep in a hammock located in the same area. Easy, clean, no fuss, perfectly located and even economic - it cost us 100 pesos a night for the tent. A tip - for cheap and good food or drink, stay off the main drag in town, this place is designed for getting money out of tourists. Just around the corner and right down on the beach is a great place to eat and drink, La Torreta.

Tulum

Santa Fe Cabañas, Tulum Beach

One of the cabaña sites worst hit by hurricanes - they lost all but their main house on the beach. We were able to camp here and find a nice spot just a little better shielded from the ocean winds. The staff here were really friendly and helpful which made the 150 peso a night camping fee much more tolerable. Plus they had a full bathroom block similar to what you find in Western style camp grounds. Their kitchen seemed to serve up nice food but since we were on a very tight budget we prepared our own meals with groceries bought from town (it was only a 10 minute bike ride away). The best part is the beach is gorgeous and this is as close as you can get to the Tulum ruins - we could see some of the main buildings when wading in the water. 

Xamach
Xamach Dos - Trip Advisor review...

(review on Trip Advisor)

Felipe Carrillo Puerto

Hotel Maria Isabel, Felipe Carrillo Puerto

One After riding through Sian Kaan for two days, we arrived in Carrillo and felt we deserved to treat ourselves to a proper shower and a comfy bed. There really aren't too many accommodation options in this town, but we checked out two. Both are located along Avenue Benito Juarez, the first was Hotel San Ignacio which is located on the block just after Calle 61 and it was 400 pesos for the night which was a bit pricey for us. Hotel Maria Isabela is just on the corner of Calle 61, we stayed there as the price was right, the staff member on duty was friendly and everything was clean and comfortable. The cost was 300 pesos per room per night. Indeed we were happy with everything apart from having a terrible nights sleep due to excessive noise made by the staff; either loud TV in the front room (we were the closest), loud conversations with guests and friends right in the lobby, and finally the cars starting right next to our window at 4am. To say the excessive noise lasted all through the night is not an exaggeration, we are not picky types seeing as just having a shower available is normally a luxury. In retrospect it was probably just a bad experience just due to where our room was located, and we did have a choice for this. It was right off the lobby, closest to the front office and next to a side driveway come parking bay. Nevertheless, if you decide to stay here prepare in advance with ear-plugs as the noise generally in the town is loud all night long, they say the town never sleeps and indeed neither will you if you don't bring any along.

Punta Allen
Serenidad Shardon, Punta Allen
We camped on the beach in one of the staff members backyards for 100 pesos a night.

Punta Allen

Serenidad Shardon, Punta Allen

We camped on the beach in one of the staff members backyards for 100 pesos a night.

Hotel Posada Melodia - Playa Del Carmen

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Belize
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Backpackers Paradise - Sarteneja (review on Trip Advisor)
Lamanai Riverside Retreat - Orange Walk Town (review on Trip Advisor)
Crooked Tree Lodge - Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary (review on Trip Advisor)
Ruby's Guest House - San Pedro on Ambergis Caye
Yuma's House - Caye Caulker
Seaspray Hotel - Placencia
Parrot Nest Lodge - San Ignacio (review on Trip Advisor)

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Guatemala
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Peten:
Ecolodge El Sombrero - Laguna Yaxha in Peten (review on Trip Advisor)
Youth Hostel Los Amigos - Flores (review on Trip Advisor)
Nitun Private Reserve - Lago Peten Itza (review on Trip Advisor)
El Encantandero - Jobompiche on Lago Peten Itza

Rio Dulce and Livingston:
Isla Xalaja - Rio Dulce (review on Trip Advisor)
Hotel Casa Perico - Rio Dulce (review on Trip Advisor)
Hotel Backpackers - Rio Dulce
Garden Gate Guest House - Livingston (review on Trip Advisor)

Lanquin and Semuc Champey:
Zephyr Lodge - Lanquin (review on Trip Advisor)
El Portal - Semuc Champey (review on Trip Advisor)

Antigua:
The Yellow House - Antigua
Posada el Viajero - Antigua (review on Trip Advisor)
Hotel la Casa de Don Ismael - Antigua (review on Trip Advisor)

Lake Atitlan:
Hotel El Arbol - San Marcos La Laguna (review on Trip Advisor)
Hotel Aaculaax - San Marcos La Laguna (review on Trip Advisor)

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El Salvador
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Horizontes Surf Camp - El Zonte
Villa Veronica - San Salvador

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Nicaragua
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Matagalpa and around:
Selva Negra - Matagalpa

Granada:
Hotel Valeria - Granada
Hostel Oasis - Granada

Pacific Coast Beaches:
Villa Jiquelite - Limon
Buena Onda - Limon
La Terrazza - San Juan del Sur
Buena Vista Surf Club - Playa Maderas


More to come...