We got an early start out of Palenque town and headed through Tenosique to get to the new El Ceibo border crossing with Guatemala. We had read that there wasn’t much in the way of gas stations for a long time on this route so we filled up our bikes at the last station in Tenosique and hoped for the best. We carry 3 liters of extra emergency fuel between the two of us and we haven’t needed to use any of it so far. We were quite pleased with ourselves with the time we were making and the fast roads and then... brake lights and flashers.
We reach a long line of traffic that is completely stopped. Naturally, we ride all the way to the front of the line - as all motorcyclists do in every situation (including traffic lights) in every country except the United States of America. A kilometer or so of stopped traffic, including several police vehicles, and we get to the front to see a Latin American style road block. It’s sort of like a strike or a demonstration, but the main characteristic is lots of people protesting for better conditions (usually working conditions, stop robbing our pensions, etc...) and completely blocking all traffic with logs and large rocks in the road. In this case, there were three roadblocks - all at the intersection of the 3 main roads in the area. The only roads for our purposes. It looked like it had been set up fairly recently by the length of the line of traffic, and everyone is out of their cars as these usually last 6-8 hours. Bummer... we were hoping to cross a border today!
I hop off the bike and walk to the front of the roadblock where the large signs saying stuff in Spanish about their companeros and the logs and rocks are. In my finest Spanish I ask what’s up and they point to the sings and the road block. OK, stupid question but I was just trying to break the ice. I ask in Spanish if it’s possible for two hapless motorcyclists to pass and point to a narrow section of dirt between two large stumps on the side of the road. They look skeptical and ask where we are headed. “Guatemala.” OK - we can pass. I walk back to M, who hasn’t even dismounted her bike yet to take a photo of this craziness and triumphantly inform her that I have negotiated for us to pass through the road block. She can’t believe it. 1 minute. I am a hero.
We drive through the roadblock in front of everyone who has been waiting for who-knows-how-long and quickly realize that the guy I talked to was only one guy and nobody else in the huge protest was expecting two gringo motorcyclists to come riding through their iron-clad road block. We get some looks, but wave and voice our support for their cause and wish them luck. Then we have to pass the other side of the three way block. These guys have no idea what’s going in with us and we point and pass through a small gap before they can talk it over. The cars backed up on this road give us the same kind of looks... What?!
We are ecstatic and gab a mile a minute over the intercom about what rock stars of international moto-travel we are.
We arrive at the border that didn’t exist in this location a couple of years ago. (you used to have to load your motorcycle into a boat and float down a river a few kilometers to El Naranjo, where they could process you but not the bike. You need to import the bike officially in order to cross into Belize, Honduras or El Salvador, so this crossing was useless to most motorcyclists until recently.)
We successfully check our bikes out of Mexico - which is muy importante because this is the only way they will refund the $800 US Dollars they have of ours on deposit. Then we drive into Guatemala and try to figure out the temporary stations - both Migracion and Aduana are in Trucks - they haven’t built any buildings yet. The trucks are actually quite a bit nicer than the buildings they would build, so nobody is complaining. We realize we have not obtained an exit stamp for ourselves from Mexican Migracion, so we walk back across the border to Mexico to get it. Marion calls it the “walk of shame,” but I don’t think it’s so bad. It’s just 50 feet or so.
At Migracion we realize that we have completely blank passports. (we got new ones for this trip as ours were full and expiring soon) Migracion at the Mexico-Texas border gave us all the documents, tourist card, etc... but neglected to stamp our passports. The guys are joking with us that we won’t be allowed to leave Mexico to which M and I both blurt out - “Good.” This pleases the proud migracion worker and he stamps us out of Mexico and cancels our tourist cards and we’re on our way back to Guat.
The staff of Guatemalan Migracion and Aduana are the nicest people at probably any border in the world. These people are amazingly kind and happy, helpful and fast. It helps that there are few other people crossing. I have to take a quick tuk-tuk ride into a nearby village to make a copy of our drivers licenses. (they never have copy machines at the actual border - why? because that’s just how it is at Latin American borders) I’m going to open a chain of mobile copy machine stands at stick them 3 feet from every border in Central and South America and make a killing. Anyway...
We get checked in, get our new windshield stickers, and we’re set loose in Guatemala on a deserted road.
We ride quite a while and start to get nervous about gas. We almost run out (in reality still had probably half a gallon reserve left) but reach La Libertad and roll into our first non-Pemex gasolinera in two months. (Mexico has only government franchised Pemex gas stations, no others unless you’re buying it out of a coke bottle)
We were on a roll and making good time so we arrived at our hotel in El Remate a day earlier than I had emailed them. Business is way down due to narco-violence and the recession so they didn’t mind one bit and we were done for the day. This was the first time we had had to ride in the rain for the whole trip - but it would certainly not be our last!
A couple days later we rode up to Tikal and saw the wonderful Mayan structures, most of them remarkably well preserved and all in the middle of a thick jungle. Good stuff, but I don’t have anything to say about it. Maybe Marion will. I like wandering through huge Myan structures in the jungle, but the place was full of embarrassing Americans on day trips in from Belize talking loudly about completely inappropriate and racist stuff. It was the first time I wished I had a maple leaf patch or something to let people know I wasn’t with them.
So far it has rained on us every day we’ve been in Guatemala - an amazing change considering it didn’t rain on us a single time for two months in Mexico. Turns out riding in the rain is just fine although my riding jacket is not waterproof. Marion’s seems to be and our luggage is all dry bags, so we just wipe the visor and motor on.
Here are some pictures of Tikal, the most amazing intact Mayan city we've seen - trying to catch up on posing stuff on here. Enjoy -
We reach a long line of traffic that is completely stopped. Naturally, we ride all the way to the front of the line - as all motorcyclists do in every situation (including traffic lights) in every country except the United States of America. A kilometer or so of stopped traffic, including several police vehicles, and we get to the front to see a Latin American style road block. It’s sort of like a strike or a demonstration, but the main characteristic is lots of people protesting for better conditions (usually working conditions, stop robbing our pensions, etc...) and completely blocking all traffic with logs and large rocks in the road. In this case, there were three roadblocks - all at the intersection of the 3 main roads in the area. The only roads for our purposes. It looked like it had been set up fairly recently by the length of the line of traffic, and everyone is out of their cars as these usually last 6-8 hours. Bummer... we were hoping to cross a border today!
I hop off the bike and walk to the front of the roadblock where the large signs saying stuff in Spanish about their companeros and the logs and rocks are. In my finest Spanish I ask what’s up and they point to the sings and the road block. OK, stupid question but I was just trying to break the ice. I ask in Spanish if it’s possible for two hapless motorcyclists to pass and point to a narrow section of dirt between two large stumps on the side of the road. They look skeptical and ask where we are headed. “Guatemala.” OK - we can pass. I walk back to M, who hasn’t even dismounted her bike yet to take a photo of this craziness and triumphantly inform her that I have negotiated for us to pass through the road block. She can’t believe it. 1 minute. I am a hero.
We drive through the roadblock in front of everyone who has been waiting for who-knows-how-long and quickly realize that the guy I talked to was only one guy and nobody else in the huge protest was expecting two gringo motorcyclists to come riding through their iron-clad road block. We get some looks, but wave and voice our support for their cause and wish them luck. Then we have to pass the other side of the three way block. These guys have no idea what’s going in with us and we point and pass through a small gap before they can talk it over. The cars backed up on this road give us the same kind of looks... What?!
We are ecstatic and gab a mile a minute over the intercom about what rock stars of international moto-travel we are.
We arrive at the border that didn’t exist in this location a couple of years ago. (you used to have to load your motorcycle into a boat and float down a river a few kilometers to El Naranjo, where they could process you but not the bike. You need to import the bike officially in order to cross into Belize, Honduras or El Salvador, so this crossing was useless to most motorcyclists until recently.)
We successfully check our bikes out of Mexico - which is muy importante because this is the only way they will refund the $800 US Dollars they have of ours on deposit. Then we drive into Guatemala and try to figure out the temporary stations - both Migracion and Aduana are in Trucks - they haven’t built any buildings yet. The trucks are actually quite a bit nicer than the buildings they would build, so nobody is complaining. We realize we have not obtained an exit stamp for ourselves from Mexican Migracion, so we walk back across the border to Mexico to get it. Marion calls it the “walk of shame,” but I don’t think it’s so bad. It’s just 50 feet or so.
At Migracion we realize that we have completely blank passports. (we got new ones for this trip as ours were full and expiring soon) Migracion at the Mexico-Texas border gave us all the documents, tourist card, etc... but neglected to stamp our passports. The guys are joking with us that we won’t be allowed to leave Mexico to which M and I both blurt out - “Good.” This pleases the proud migracion worker and he stamps us out of Mexico and cancels our tourist cards and we’re on our way back to Guat.
The staff of Guatemalan Migracion and Aduana are the nicest people at probably any border in the world. These people are amazingly kind and happy, helpful and fast. It helps that there are few other people crossing. I have to take a quick tuk-tuk ride into a nearby village to make a copy of our drivers licenses. (they never have copy machines at the actual border - why? because that’s just how it is at Latin American borders) I’m going to open a chain of mobile copy machine stands at stick them 3 feet from every border in Central and South America and make a killing. Anyway...
We get checked in, get our new windshield stickers, and we’re set loose in Guatemala on a deserted road.
We ride quite a while and start to get nervous about gas. We almost run out (in reality still had probably half a gallon reserve left) but reach La Libertad and roll into our first non-Pemex gasolinera in two months. (Mexico has only government franchised Pemex gas stations, no others unless you’re buying it out of a coke bottle)
We were on a roll and making good time so we arrived at our hotel in El Remate a day earlier than I had emailed them. Business is way down due to narco-violence and the recession so they didn’t mind one bit and we were done for the day. This was the first time we had had to ride in the rain for the whole trip - but it would certainly not be our last!
A couple days later we rode up to Tikal and saw the wonderful Mayan structures, most of them remarkably well preserved and all in the middle of a thick jungle. Good stuff, but I don’t have anything to say about it. Maybe Marion will. I like wandering through huge Myan structures in the jungle, but the place was full of embarrassing Americans on day trips in from Belize talking loudly about completely inappropriate and racist stuff. It was the first time I wished I had a maple leaf patch or something to let people know I wasn’t with them.
So far it has rained on us every day we’ve been in Guatemala - an amazing change considering it didn’t rain on us a single time for two months in Mexico. Turns out riding in the rain is just fine although my riding jacket is not waterproof. Marion’s seems to be and our luggage is all dry bags, so we just wipe the visor and motor on.
Here are some pictures of Tikal, the most amazing intact Mayan city we've seen - trying to catch up on posing stuff on here. Enjoy -
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| These guys were in the middle of filming something. |
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| It involved lots of smoke and the camera traveling down a rope. Documentary or new low budget Indiana Jones? |
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| Guatemala has one major beer company - Their best selling beer seems to be Gallo - with picture of a rooster on it. But this one, Moza, is excellent. Better than Negra Modelo and with no annoying foil cap. Me gusta Moza! |
Awesome photos! Great description too. xoxox
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