Life happens when you are busy making other plans
Trip Start
Mar 09, 2009
1
16
29
Trip End
Ongoing
San Pedro La Laguna,
Sololá,
Guatemala
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Eating tacos guatemalan stylie in the Mercado
.Doing 7 hours a day of Spanish plus 2 – 3 hours homework, tarea, started taking its toll and by Wednesday I was beginning to lose my voice, which made practicing my Spanish a bit difficult. However we managed to whip through the past and future tenses of the most common and regular verbs, which I now have to learn. I quickly came to the realisation that I had been in denial for years, and that I was in fact a nerd. This probably comes as no shock to anyone else apart from me, but I was pretty impressed with myself as I memorised verb after verb to recite to my teacher (mi Maestro) the next day. However, by Wednesday afternoon I was exhausted so we decided not to continue with the Spanish lessons so it was time to say adios to my Spanish group and teacher and turn to planning the massive trek across the mountains and volcanoes to San Pedro. But before that there was the matter of finding the best hot chocolate in Xela, which was served in the quaint and eclectically decorated Cafe La Luna.
Having got that sorted attention turned to packing and trying to take the minimum amount in a day pack, yet being well prepared for all eventuality. It was a serious juggling match and in retrospect I probably planned for too many eventualities and surprisingly my lifesavers throughout the trip were my flip-flops and not so surprisingly my iPod and not Imodium, although the toilet paper and hand sanitiser were definite essentials.
At 5 am on Thursday morning the hostel was abuzz with activity as we arose, had a final shower and gathered our belongings. At 6 am promptly the doorbell rang and our minibus was waiting, after a small discussion about the small size of our bags, we had to carry food and water, as well as a sleeping mat and bag, we persuaded them that there was room and we set off
old world meets backpackers
. We were dropped with our two guides in village half way up a mountain and with a wave the minivan with our rucksacks, including Brad disappeared out of sight. I was being parted from Brad for three days and I was filled with anxiety, would I ever see him again?!?!Thoughts of Brad soon disappeared to be replaced with "Oh my God I’m dying!" The pace set by the first guide was punishing and I soon fell back and decided that I was going to enjoy this hike, okay that didn’t last long as we climbed vertically up steep winding mountain tracks that were barely carved out of the side of the mountain. Having a pack on your back severely affects your balance, but I had done hikes like this before with a big pack, I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t catch my breath, then I had a light bulb moment, I was fighting off a cold. The first sign of me coming down with a cold has traditionally been a sore throat and losing my voice, well both those boxes were definitely ticked. Slowly as I climbed the mountain I was joined by Will, then Juan and George and we kept each other going and smiling with words of encouragement, but god I felt like an unfit geriatric. Eventually we reached the top and all felt our spirits soar, for we were confronted by rolling green pastures, wild flowers and villages nestled in the vales. It felt very serene after the mammoth climb to be strolling through green fields, and over the next ridge the others were waiting. Reunited we shared food, laughs and jokes.
All too soon we were off again and the wide open path soon turned into another narrow and treacherous muddy trail with severe, steep switchbacks, but thankfully we were going downhill and were constantly confronted by amazing scenery
Santa Maria
. It truly was a Buena Vista with mountain ranges as far as the eye could see, waterfalls, valleys and rock faces, villages and cultivated fields carved out of the mountain slopes. The banter was non-stop, the conversations stimulating, ranging from Nelson Mandela to Barack Obama via surfing chat and the norm travellers’ stories and their amazing and bizarre experiences. Once we were out of lush mountain slopes and maize fields, we were back on a large track that wound up round another hill into a village, where we stopped for lunch. The basic bread rolls which we filled with tomato, cucumber, cheese, pastrami (and egg for those that wanted) seemed to be the best lunch any of us had ever tasted. We tore into it and ravenously demolished the provisions. Some debate ensued during lunch as to whether we had reached our destination for the day and the guides were wondering if we were happy to push on or whether they wanted to know whether we wanted to have lunch there and then or push onto somewhere else for lunch. Even after the whole hike, we were still all unsure of whether we had the option to stay the night in the village where we had lunch. We collectively via Kirsty and David decided to push on but stop there for lunch. If we thought the morning had been bad, which in fact only the first hour and half had been, then we were in for a surprise... the afternoon was hideous
View of Xela in the distance
. We continued slipping and sliding down mountain paths with legs like lead and sweat pouring from every pore. Eventually we reached a stream where some refilled there water bottles and then we had to clamber over slippery rocks on the other side..With legs like jelly I froze, unable to gain my balance, looking for a hand hold to steady myself and trying desperately to remember my rock climbing, push with your legs, trust your body. But I was in thick heavy boots and had an unwieldy backpack. Eventually after persuading one of the guides to take my pack, I was able to 'nimbly’ clamber over the lichen and moss covered rocks into relative safety of slippery mud. Juan and I slipped and slided down the mountain to join the others who were soaking their feet in a cold fast running river. We rested our aching feet and bodies, until ominous clouds appeared and the guides decided we should push on to our night’s accommodation. I changed out of my heavy hiking boots and put on flip flops, which improved my balance and grip but not the weight of my pack, which now had the added weight of my shoes. To get to the other side of the river we had to cross a wobbly wooden bridge which had loose planks laid across two bendy logs. I contemplated wadding across the river, only to be told it was too deep and fast; so with my heart pounding and my palms sweaty, I managed to walk across
Lush rolling fields
. The relief I felt was so short-lived as we were confronted by another steep and unforgiving trail to the village where we were staying for the night. Every time I stopped, which was often, I became fodder for the aggressive and hungry horse flies that attached themselves to my ankles. I arrived in the village battered, bloodied and bruised but not defeated.The Ritz
We walked through yet another maize field and came across a small collection of houses surrounding an open area where there was a stone sink and a small clearing. We were told there was not enough water for a shower but we could ‘bush shower’ which consisted of using the water already drawn in a stone sink and using small bowls pour the cold water over ourselves. It was refreshing but not particularly sufficient. As we were stretching out our sore muscles, the rain that had been threatening, looked even more likely so we went to the guides to ask where we were sleeping and we were shown a large empty room, except for some clothes, a wardrobe and a wooden bed, which was quickly claimed by Princess Will. The rest of us spread our mats down on the hard dusty concrete ground and started drinking. Food was allegedly an hour away which turned out to be more like 2 hours away and we were all ravenous by the time the plates of fried chicken, broccoli and lettuce were put in front of us
Will and Juan
. To get to the toilet, you had to negotiate through another maize field, but it being dark, Kirsty and I couldn’t find it so went bush toilet which as evidenced the next morning was far safer and cleaner than the actual toilet. As we were settling down for the night, we were joined by a local man and his kid brother who on being offered some sweets took two massive handfuls and loaded up his shirt which he had made into a bib. He kept furtively looking at us as to see how many he could take before any of us said no or that was enough. But we were all too amused to say anything. The kid then left and the man was joined by his uncle who owned the house in which we were staying. Kirsty did her best to talk to them, but it all got a bit weird as they stood there silently watching us sitting on the floor, drinking. Eventually I came up with a plan to say that I wanted to change. It was felt best to come from one of the guys, so Derek translated and they quickly left. The night was long and restless and morning came not a moment too soon, although it was with mixed blessings as the thought of another day hiking with aching limbs wasn’t that appealing either. We got up and quickly packed up our meagre belongings as the guides fixed up breakfast which consisted of bread with jam and individual pots of oatmeal, swimming in boiling water.
Groundhog Day
All too soon we were slinging our packs back onto our backs and heading up another ridiculously steep mountain trail that wound up the mountain past the remaining houses of the village that sat precariously on the side of the mountain
Survived the first climb up a mountain
. After about 30 minutes which seemed like forever we hit a dirt road and continued uphill for another hour or so. I had by this time off-loaded my boots onto Will and was relishing the lighter load and steadily climbed the mountain, admiring the view, which stretched out to the Pacific Ocean. After another break it was downhill for about an hour and a half. The infamous boots changed hands again, with the guide taking them and I following Will’s lead dug out my iPod. Oh my god the difference, the speed I had in my legs, the energy I had in my body and lungs was so dramatic, I wondered why I hadn’t done this before. Will and I caught up with Juan, James, Derek and George and were told by one of the guides that we had only 30 mins left of walking up hill and then we were done for the day. It was only 10 am and we had been walking for 3 hours. Energised that we were about to commence the last leg of our journey we spritely walked up the hill and found the others who had stopped because Kirsty had taken a nasty fall and had grazed her legs. Thankfully it was all superficial and prompt medical attention from Dave, prevented any nasty infection. So reunited all of us walked into the next town, which was slightly weird and a bit Reservoir Dogs as the 11 of us (including the guides) strolled incongruously through the town. We thought we had reached our destination, only to find out that this was not where we were staying and in fact we had another 10 – 15 walk uphill to Santa Clara where our ‘plush’ accommodation was going to be
Buena Vista
. Onwards we pushed to our next night’s accommodation.The night before was bloody luxury
On arrival we were wishing for the luxury of the night before. Our accommodation for the Friday night consisted of two dirty airless rooms in which to sleep and a little courtyard. The toilet inside was not working, so we had to use the one at the end of the garden which was surrounded on three sides with makeshift plastic sheeting and had no door so was completely open to the elements and anyone walking by. If we thought the other toilet was bad, it was also a bloody luxury compared to this drop toilet, which reeked and could be smelt from the other side of the garden. For the price we had paid we could have spent both nights in relatively nice hotels, still afforded food and paid the guides. Oh well it was all part of the experience! After a huge lunch of pasta we ventured into town to explore and to buy some beers. By the time we returned my head was pounding so I opted out of the hike up to the Mirador to view Lago de Atitlan and hit the floor. The next morning, having had little to no sleep, I was so grateful that I had managed to get some kip for those few hours. When the others returned the owner invited them to partake in a sauna in the sweat room at the back of the house. I really wanted to as my legs were now as stiff as two planks of wood, but my head was still pounding despite the doses paracetamol and advil, so I took a rain check.
That evening we had been promised dinner in a local restaurant which turned out to be a local cantina, but the food was great and Dave with some help from Troy managed to eat them out of tortillas
mountain ranges
. With not much to do in town, despite it being a Friday night, we went back to our ‘luxury’ accommodation and played drinking games until someone reminded us all that we had to get up at 5 am to see the sunrise. The Final Day
Having got up at 5 am and walked 30 minutes we stopped and looked out over the lake to watch the sun rise. Unfortunately the clouds prevented us from seeing an amazing vista but it was still pretty spectacular as we watched a live volcano erupt. We then set off down the mountain stopping for a makeshift breakfast and in turn turned into breakfast for the mosquitoes. Onwards we raced down the mountain briefly admiring the view and through San Juan to San Pedro.
San Pedro
Relieved and exhausted we arrived in San Pedro. The walk had been exhausting, rewarding, tiring and beautiful. The camaraderie had been fantastic, but a word of warning, the walk is tough and you have to be pretty fit to do it, something which the tour company did not mention and also was pretty expensive for the level of accommodation, food and competence of the guides
Enjoying the view
. However we all had a sense of achievement and happily took over a restaurant by the lake and waited for our luggage which was being held up due to an accident on the road to San Pedro from Xela. We took it in turns to go hunting for accommodation and eventually settled for the Hotel Tolmain a basic hotel which at least had beds and running water in which to shower. I soon found out the tan I thought I had been developing over the last three days out in the open washed off.. but at least I felt clean.San Pedro attracts a strange breed of tourists. I think people who come here want to be considered travellers and hard core at that. But they all seem to conform to what they think a traveller should look like, dreadlocks, piercings, tattoos, baggy ethnic clothes with a sort of unwashed spaced out look about them. There is also a bit of a drug culture here, well according to the Rough Guide and Lonely Planet and it is obvious a number of people come here for cheap weed, mushrooms, pills and coke and in fact it all seems pretty easy to come by. The main village is up the hill away from the lake as the area just by the lake is the domain of the gringos and caters for all a traveller needs, laundries, bars, restaurants, hotels, hostels etc and loads of old crinkled and bent Mayan women selling amazing banana, chocolate breads and cakes. Up the hill there is a market and street stalls selling tacos, licuados (local fruit smoothies) as well as an over opulent church which overlooks the village.
After a great weekend with all the group, chilling, shrooming and eating a huge roast dinner, I moved into another hostel and into a double room with private bathroom – okay the bathroom is a toilet with a shower overhead so you can shit and shower at the same time (if you so desire) – brilliant!! But I don’t have to share it and I have access to a lovely terrace that overlooks the lake and is a fantastic place to write this blog, stretch out my aching limbs and contemplate how lucky my life is.
