Stepping Back in Time - Semuc Champey to Las Flores - Tikal

22nd - 24th September

I woke early hoping for a dry start to the day but knew it was going to be just as wet as when I had arrived and I was right, the rain had poured all night and left the rocky roads covered with the same lethal sheen as when I arrived. It wasn't as if I had any choice, I had to ride out at some point and so I loaded up the bike, had a big fat serving of pancakes and three cups of coffee and hit the road... slowly!

Before leaving I had checked the possible routes to Tikal, after a quick chat with the guys at the hostel I was warned not to go the quickest mountain route despite it being an hour shorter than the alternative. When I asked why I was told that it's not safe, the roads are so isolated and there have been lots of car jackings in recent years, I was advised to head back to Coban and then North, a solid six hour ride with the first hour and a half on the rocks!



With fresher arms and a clearer head I dealt with the conditions a lot better, when faced with the steep concrete strips I simply approached with more speed and kept the momentum up not allowing the bike to stop or spin out. It took a fair bit of internal argument to convince myself that this was a good idea but it worked. Within half an hour I was back out onto the 'main' (still rock!) road and wound the bike up to a decent speed.

As I approached the back of a slow moving lorry I was forced to slow and wait for a suitable place to pass, the road was narrow and sided by a cliff and sheer drop so timing was important. As I followed, bouncing off the rocks in 1st gear the bike let out a really unusual hiccup and the engine cut out. It was such a weird sound, sort of like the engine popping as the explosion in the cylinder forced its way passed the piston rings. I thought I had blown the engine but after a couple of unconvincing attempts she fired up and we continued as normal. Super weird.

The rest of the ride was relatively uneventful just long, hot and tiring. The roads from Pajal were decent quality tarmac, packed full of wiggles and great fun and I flew along the road back to Coban feeling in sync with my bike and loving the fast flowing corners. After about 3hrs, at a place called San Antonio Las Cuevas I took a left leaving the mountains behind heading north through low land farming country. Not long after the junction I hit the longest, most boring, straight road in the world. For 25 miles the only thing that kept me awake was the far too frequent and brutal speed bumps, It would have been possible to make good time if I wasn't having to slow down to 5mph every five minutes.

At the end of this straight bit of road was a 90 degree bend with a restaurant plonked in the dirt on the side of the road called La Curva. A Guatemalan gem, no menu, two women in the kitchen singing away, I asked what they had and she said chicken and rice so that's what I ate! It's actually really nice not to have options and man did they know how to cook chicken and rice!

Just as I was getting ready to leave the restaurant a minivan rocked up with two American kids who had been staying at the same hostel who were also en-route to Tikal. They had set off an hour before me in the morning and despite stopping for a coffee in Coban I was winning!! The next couple of hrs were boring riding with more straight roads and speed bumps until I got to a dusty little town called Sayaxche where, after passing through the one way system I was confronted by a que of traffic and as the road disappeared into a big river! The setup was confusing as hell with no signage and people and cars jockying for position all over the place. I did a quick lap around then rode straight past all the traffic and joined a small army of scooters parked right at the start of the line just in front of the local police car.

The ferry was a tiny steel barge powered by a couple of small outboard motors tacked to the side and shaded by palm thatched roofs, I have no idea how long some of the traffic had been there but it looked like it would only take one lorry at a time and there were loads lined up waiting to go... You gotta love motorbikes! Anyways the local scooter boys loved the bike and bombarded me with questions for the next 15 mins as we crossed the river, they were super friendly and such a stark contrast to the moody folk on similar ferry crossings back home.

Time was marching on and being the rainy season I was only too aware of what the afternoon might bring. About an hour from my destination I spotted a very ominous dark line in the sky to the East, I was tired, the heat was exhausting and I really didn't want to get caught in a storm so I got a wriggle on. Each bend in the road brought either hope or desperation as I rode parallel to or directly into this darkening storm front. As storm fronts go it was a beauty, the sky was split in two, blue sky on one side crashed into a charging front line of dark black clouds backed up by a thick blanket of turbulent grey, it was going to be heavy when it hit.

As I rode into Santa Elena, the lakeside town 15mins away from the Isla Las Flores, I passed the division in the sky and was now directly under the front, the wind had picked up and was swirling violently blowing dust and rubbish high into the air. Families were running for shelter and I was getting buffeted all over the place. I had been debating for a while whether or not to stop when I came across an open sided barn on the side of the road and bounced up the curb and stopped the bike under the tin roof. The family who owned the barn / garage were all hudled around their pickup staring up at the sky watching the storm develop, I jumped off the bike said hello and asked if it was OK to take cover until the storm passed, they were buzzing with energy and happy for me to shelter, the little daughter even ran off and got me a plastic chair! Next door a young lad was stood in his driveway staring at the sky with a massive smile on his face, I looked up to see a dark swirl in the clouds and got chatting to him, apparently this was not just a standard afternoon storm.

As we stood watching a strong gust of wind hit the top of the barn and lifted several tin sheets on the roof making an almighty clattering noise and causing the family to jump up then burst into loud nervous giggles. I had no idea if it was safer under the barn or out on the streets and after a bit of deliberation concluded to risk it for a biscuit and make a dash for the final 15min run to the hostel on the Isla Las Flores.

Ten minutes down the road and the rain started lashing down but by then I had the Island in my sights and for some reason I no longer cared about getting wet and was actually enjoying the crazy energy. As I crossed the causeway onto the island the normally still waters were being whipped up into a frenzy and crashing into the roadside, it was like watching the onshore surf at Gilly beach in Faltown. To ensure I got properly wet I got lost and struggled to find the hostel I had been recommended. After visiting a couple of different places I finally parked up outside Dona Goya II relieved to have finally made it to my destination. I had been recommended this place as it has a roof top terrace over looking the lake and because it was super cheap... the view was cool and the hostel bunks were perfectly adequate with classic Guatemalan intermittent electricity, they even had a washing service and the brave lady at the reception didn't even batt an eye as I handed her 5 kilos of three week old wet and highly offensive socks and bits.

After a quick walk around the island (it's literally a 20min stroll), I went and grabbed a beer and some food at a bar/restaurant called San Telmo... the place was wicked, really cool decor, nice staff and really good food with a view out over the lake.

In the morning I got up early, checked out of the hostel, packed the bike and rode North toward the national park at Tikal. It was only an hours ride to the park entrance where I had to pay 150 Quetzals or $20 for a days pass. I parked up at one of the hotels where they have an option for people to stay in their tents for a much cheaper price than the hotel rooms, I paid the man and shoved all my gear into a tent in the hope of catching the Sunrise the next morning.

Entering Tikal is awesome, they stop you at a barrier some 20kms before the actual site of the ruins. Once paid and having dispatched all the hopeful guides you cruise at the 40kmph speed limit through what looks like a scene from Jurrasic park, the jungle is thick and seemingly untouched, my imagination was going crazy wondering what wild wonders lurked behind the treeline!

From the main carpark I followed the dirt paths into the jungle and was immediately greeted by a very noisey monkey smashing around in the trees. A huge tree towered above a couple of tourists with gigantic furry, moss covered arms stretching way out from it's trunk... I freaking love trees, this bad boy must have seen an immense amount of human traffic in it's time not to mention a radical shift in his surroundings.

 For me the magic of Tikal was the way it was so well hidden by it's surroundings, I had been walking for ten minutes before seeing any signs of a temple, the jungle surrounding the site is so dense and despite the height of the temples you simply wouldn't know you were about to stumble into an ancient city were it not for the sign posts and site maps. I walked out into a clearing and looked up to see Temple number two towering over