Deer Park

The next day is a dirt day, an out-and-back.

The previous two days have been pretty uneventful as we went about our riding. Brief stops only and many miles of mountain roads. Only one lunch stop in the three days for example.

Today’s different, no more twisties. We set off early across the plains of Chancol, staying high, riding through rural, thinly populated and frankly hostile feeling landscape. This is a dry, high-altitude place removed. I don’t think you’d ride up here for the first time without being told something about it first. There’s nothing that feels like a spiritual oasis for even a moment. At its most lush it looks like this
It’s going to be one of those great riding days. The set-off is perfect. For some reason the dirt and the grave don’t loosen up and it’s easy to go relatively fast. It’s hot, and fast cools us off.

The sides of the hills are farmed up onto the steeps The chaos is harmonious. They’re not good at crop rotation and can plant 5 or 6 corn crops in a row, effectively killing the soil. This seems in contrast to what I’ve learned about Mayan agricultural skills but forget to ask about it. So they cut higher and higher up the hillsides, I guess until the lower land restores itself. This is one of the driest two months of the year which is why it looks barren.
We pass clusters of homes on our way.

At one point, which I don’t photograph, there are bigger and more modern houses. Julio asks me if I noticed the new Escalade in one driveway and implies the obvious.
And occasional clusters of Kniphofia. I’m surprised to see them here – they don’t come from here, they’re from Africa. He says they often make hedge rows. It’s the only colour on the plains.

After maybe 20 miles we rode into a historic area called Tuicoyg. Here the Mayans cluster the homes together more and as usual cinder blocks make up 90% of the construction.

We sat and watched a small village for about 30 minutes. A few women and children purposefully went from A to B, not giving us much notice.
Photographing the Mayan women up here, and in particular the children, can get you into a world of trouble but this particular lady was friendly and curious about us.
But this is apparently no big deal
An original home. Identical roofline to the metal one a couple back. 

Uh oh

As we rode further west the valley fell off into waves of green.
Into a stunning gorge, out of nowhere. The edge of the plain abruptly stopped. the views are dependent on air condition which is highly variable. We’d walked to a hilltop twice in another place to see the volcanoes in the distance but had little luck. This was the best Guatemalan view I’d had yet

Being pressed to get caught up on this journal I’ll dodge reflections. But no ride through Guatemala is complete without coming up here.

We made our way back. A short day, 57 miles, and all perfect easy dirt. I was extremely grateful to Julio for showing me this place.

At the farmhouse there’s another guest. A German fellow, mid 30’s who’s backpacking through Central America.

When we arrived back the farmhouse was locked and no-one was around. About ten minutes later, a guy on a bike rolled up the trail/road and started in on Julio excitedly. When he finished Julio told me this: The German guy had wandered off the road, walked up to a Mayan house, scared the woman and her child, ran up the hillside was nabbed by 40 natives with machetes. They’d being holding him for 3 hours.

Julio has a grasp on all this. He told me that 5 Japanese people found their way up here, made some mistake and had been murdered less than a kilometre away. He also told me that another had been chopped into pieces. And another burned. He decided he could negotiate with them. We were miles away from any help. Somehow his calm led me to believe a positive outcome was something he was confident about and offered to join him. He surprised me by saying *no, best not to put both of us in danger*. I thought oh fuck, this isn’t clear cut after all… He rode off.

I suited up and rode down to a spot, sat on my bike ready to go, in a spot I could see him coming back from and gave him an hour after which I was going to ride to Huehuetenango for help. He was back with 12 minutes to spare. But no German on the back of the bike. Julio told me he’d resolved it by getting some admission signed and the guy wanted to walk home. He shook his head with resignation. An hour later the lucky guy returned. There’s a backstory to how this was very nearly made much worse but that’ll be for Julio to tell.

Next day it was time to part ways and for me to set off for the border so we talked about anything relevant, looked at maps and I listened particularly hard.

I arrived at Parque Central early. I wanted a walk around before leaving.

The plan is to swing back through for a tire and oil change on my way south again, but this felt like leaving.

Julio shows up for our 7:00 am start. Julio’s been riding in Central America for 30 years. He rode out for a couple of the shakedowns in the last few days, including taking Taz me and Bo to a Macadamia Nut ranch for lunch one day.

A couple of days ago we went for a group ride. Julio and his wife Luisa, Taz and Abbey, Bo and Claudia and me. Parking lot portrait shots, haha

Abbey, Taz and Bo

Julio and Luisa

Me and Claudia

So back to the story.

Julio shows up and without killing his engine, smiles and said *shall we go?* and off we went. Julio refers to Guatemalans as mountain people and he’s got a mountain route planned accordingly.

Our first stop is at the ruins of Iximche (now normally I’d add some research to all this but since this is a multi-post evening I’ve got to motor through some of it. And I need space to write up the kidnapping. Ha, now you’re hooked)

This is the best preserved of the structures. The whole site was in an advanced state of erosion. Originally the city looked like this

Meanwhile the bikes took an opportunity to get to know each other. Lucinda thought she was nice but pretty quiet for a big girl

Then it’s that damn blast through Chimaltenango
Then on through the tightening landscape, into the hills. Guatemala, a small country, has a population of 12M and 3M live in the CIty. So no matter what view you have (in the south and southwest) you see and travel through pueblos frequently. The towns look like they’re poured into the valley bottoms. More later.

Soon we arrive at the town of Chichicastenango. God what a cool name. Unlike, say, Squamish.

We parked below the church steps

Here’s Julio navigating us there

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Up in the hills again Julio tells me Canadian mining companies are the diablo here right now. Signs are graffiti’d with their pissed-offness. Lucinda growls as we go by *leave my boy alone*. She’s so sweet

Then through more towns in the hills. Beautiful churches everywhere

Then it’s miles and miles of twisties, gaining elevation the whole time, into a valley

Perfect

And we pulled up to this farmhouse for the night

Why so dark? Because the minute we arrived a thunderstorm rolled in. This was to happen each night at roughly the same time. It started with a heavy hail and kept up until after I was asleep. I was concerned the dirt ride in was going to be quagmire leaving.

The ride in

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In the morning the weather is cheerier and the dirt ride no issue

Then back into the hills. Julio and I reckon that in 200 miles we’ve not ridden a straight more than 500 yards long. Endless bliss. Although the roads are sometimes sketchy and nearly always dirty. I’m getting my riding form back, i.e.. not thinking about it.

But look out for the road hazards

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We go through a series of towns that are full of Mayans

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I hope you’re clicking on the videos. They give a good impression of riding through this country! And they’re a pain to edit and upload.

Each one has a stage set up. Julio finds out quickly that the President of Guatemala is stumping the area. He says the Mayans have been trucked in and they won’t understand a word he says anyway. Each town is crawling with security. We watch a bomb dog at the first town spend a full 30 minutes sniffing the stage.

Anyway I think the Mayan women are gorgeous. When I mention this people look at me like I’m weird. But they have lovely upturned love eyes that remind me of Laura Bush.

Later it’s my turn through town. I think I’m doing a masterful job it but Julio points out I’ve gone down two one-way streets the wrong way. But I’m having fun. Time to stop with that

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Up through the hills again

Julio has a different destination in mind we pass Mayans doing laundry in a stream in an open field. We’re now at serious altitude, about 11,000 feet

It’s a great dirt ride in and we arrive at another of Juilo’s secret finds. This time another farm house, but with an equestrian bent. The ride to it is about 10 miles of high-altitude plain, with sparsely spaced, poor, homesteads. As Julio passed a small group of 20-somethings they make menacing gestures at him. I talk to him about this immediately we arrive. He blows it off. But maybe just for my benefit.

We arrive, tired but happy. A great day