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

Journey to the Middle of Nowhere - Lake Atitlan to Semuc Champey

19th - 21st September

Sorry for the mountain of text, it was a hellafa couple o days.

From Atitlan I headed North to a tiny place hidden in the Jungle called Semuc Champey, the ride was one of the most challenging, physically tiring and rewarding rides of the trip. Despite the result there is no way I would do it again!

In theory the ride, start to finish, should have taken between 8-10hrs, I was mentally set to do it in one long days ride but things started badly. Half an hour out of San Marcos the traffic climbing the epic hairpin road was stopped at the road works. I skipped to the front and waited... we were held there for an hour, the whole time holding the weight of the bike with my legs as the slope was to steep to use the kick stand. There was at least light relief as the locals amused themselves using cones as loud speakers and giggling as they pretended like their friends were gay... comedy trancends language.

Way behind schedule I pushed on and back to the main road then wound the bike up as hard as I could and continued on the windy dual carriageway up higher into the mountains. I needed fuel and had almost run out of money, cash machines were a rarity but fortunately I found a random town and scored both fuel and cash just in time. 

Despite the bright sunshine the mountain air was cold and I was shivering for the first few hours of the day. The bike was pulling well but I was all to concious that the hills were putting a lot of strain on the engine and all the rattling and funny noises the engine makes were making me a little anxious. From each bend huge, breath taking panoramic views into the valleys below stretched as far as my eyes could see, I was really pissed that the GoPro had broken, I didn't have time to keep stopping for photo's and the GoPro would have caught some incredible shots.

As I'm riding along I see this guy on the side of the road waving a stick at the oncoming traffic... as I got closer it became apparent that he was a roadside parrot salesman and that on the end of his stick was a bright green parrot, of course! This turned out to be a popular occupation and at times there were four or five guys hawking parrots to the passing traffic. Bizarre!

After a couple of hours and having descended from the dizzy heights of the mountain ranges the road changed into a beautifully surfaced and completely deserted pleasure ground. I have no idea where I was but the road was the best ride of the trip so far. Fast, sweeping bends linked together through  deep channels cut into sand stone hills,  I was grinning from ear to ear and blown away by the epic scenery.

The heat now was overwhelming and I was getting tired, I hadn't stopped for lunch eager to push on and make up time and after about six hours straight on the bike I stopped in a gas station to get a coffee. The machine was bust and they didn't have anything other than nuts to provide some much needed energy. Wearily I got back on the bike and continued winding through the valley and found my first tumulos (speed bumps), from here on, in every village, a brutal concrete speed bump marked the entrance and exit and every 200m in between. With the hairpins and tumulos the brakes and my arms were taking a pounding.

Another hour on I reached a bridge across a wide river and then started climbing another big mountain, the scenery was incredible but the ride soo tiring, tight 1st gear hairpins zigzagged up steep cliff lined roads with large trucks limping along making for some sketchy overtaking. Dropping down the other side of the mountain I began to feel the brakes fading badly and was struggling to slow the bike into the bends. Low barriers were the only thing between me and a huge wipeout, I had to take it really steady and rely heavily on the engine to do most of the braking. 

At around 4:30pm I rolled into a village called Uspantan and decided to call it a day. I found a terrible, run down hotel, no hot water, not even a light in the shower at the end of the hall, I had to use a torch to go to the toilet! Dropping off my kit I went into the town in search of a mechanic to replace my brake pads. Everybody was closed except for a tyre guy who I stopped at to ask for directions to a mechanic. As I was there I randomly enquired as to how much a new tyre would cost, I hadn't even checked the tread but when I got off the bike and looked there was almost nothing left of the rear. The guy said he didn't have the right tyre for the bike and pointed me in the direction of a mechanic... I rode off, found he was closed and on my way back the tyre guy flags me down, he had found an almost identical tyre and could put it on now if I wanted! Bonzer... the tyre went on, the price agreed was Q450, or about US$45 which was reasonable for a brand new boot but I didn't have all the cash, I gave him Q300 and rode off to the bank. Neither of the two ATM's in town took my card and I spent 30mins running around wigging out before finally getting cash with another card. I offered the guy Q400 and we made a deal.

Unfortunately when the guy had done the tyre he had also managed to replace the wheel with the rear brake clamped on. Even without pads I could feel the resistance and so we spent the next hour messing around trying to get the brake setup back to normal until eventually, both frustrated we gave it up for the night. It was 6:30pm and I hadn't eaten since breakfast, I felt like a wreck.

The next morning I hit the mechanic first thing to get some new brake pads. An old, super friendly guy chatted about my trip and his shop and said it would be done in a couple of hours. He then dissapears and a 16year old lad starts taking my brakes apart but not with the ease and grace of an experienced mechanic but the impatience and quizzical facial expressions of a monkey. I was worried... I watched him get what was left of the pads out then went to eat breakfast. Unsurprisingly new pads for the KLR were not stock items in Uspantan and after lots of questioning I finally understood that they take the old metal brackets and simply bond new pads on, excellent idea, loads more sustainable. Anyways eventually the kid has the pads in, the fluid bled and topped up and the brake was as good as new, why was I ever worried?! The owners nephew was hanging around, he was a smart kid, only twelve, a good grasp of English and a ripper on his little 80cc motocross bike. As I rode out of town he rode alongside me whipping a big old wheelie down the main street! He's gonna be trouble.

Bike maintenance sorted I left Uspantan for the secong leg of the ride. I was told it was just another 2-3hrs to Semuc Champey but the road was pretty rough... it was worse than rough. Deeply rutted rock and gravel tracks, wound up through the mountains, sheer drops dissapeared hundreds of feet off the side of the road with no barriers and trucks and busses bombed along in the other direction, kicking up dust on the skinny roads. It was hard to keep the bike over 30mph and I was incredibly grateful for my new tyre and brakes! 

It is really weird that I stopped and got those bits done that afternoon, I am certain there was some other worldly intervention. Ordinarily I would have kept going at 4:30pm, there was still 2hrs of light left and I wasn't that far out from Coban where I had originally planned to stop and change the pads. Also I had no idea I needed a new tyre, it was pure chance that I noticed the tread and that this seemingly half retarded guy in a tiny shop front had the right size tyre in stock. Unbeknownst to me the road changed literally 20mins out of Uspantan and would have been lethal without brakes and I hate to think what would have happened if I'd had a puncture in those mountains.

I had heard many stories of car jacking in Guatemala and before leaving El Salvador Aussie Stuart had told me of a video he watched of a guy on a motorbike with a helmet cam cruising through the mountains in Guatemala when two guys jumped out in front of him with machetes and a shotgun and strip him of all his gear. That had been in mind the whole time but these mountain roads had a heavy feel to them. There were three times, in really remote sections in the mountains where a pair of villagers were stood in the road shovelling rocks around and as I approach they start pleading with me to stop... there was no way in hell I was stopping, they definately weren't road workers, they wore no uniforms, two were woman and one was a child. I still don't know if I was just being paranoid or not but I don't regret not finding out.

Anyways, sorry... Soo the rocky mountain roads continued for about two hours of knackering riding until I finally got back to tarmac and into a place called Coban, my original stopover. The rain started coming down heavy, already soaked I ducked into a super cool little restaurant/cafe/gift shop for some coffee and lunch, it was a great find with awesome locally grown coffee, a quirky, traditional menu prepared with fresh local produce and they had Wifi! 

From Coban the roads were awesome, really quick sweeping bends wound through a sea of patchwork, farmed hills that looked surreal. Another hour on I reached the turn for Semuc Champey and the road switched back on itself and turned into a rocky track again. I flew along dodging potholes, skipping over rocks and leaving trucks in my dust and after an exhilarating half hour I had reached Lanquin. 

Lanquin is the tourist hub for Semuc Champey, most people catch the bus there and then get an official tour to take them by 4x4 to the river at Semuc proper. I wanted to ride all the way there and camp to avoid paying for an expensive tour. There are times when it's worth paying for a tour and this was it... the road on from Lanquin was the sketchiest, most draining, heart thumping riding I have ever done, how I didn't stack it I don't know.

A skinny single lane track made up a mix of flint rocks and mud zig zagged up and down steep sided slopes. In the dry it would have been easy but the rain gave the rocks an ice like sheen which was impossible to get any grip on. I got to the base of one hill where they had put concrete strips up either side of the track, as the bike started to slow I dropped a gear, gave it some throttle and the rear end started spinning like crazy and kicked the bike sideways, with no forward momentum the bike became unstable and I slammed a foot down to stop us going over, my boots struggled to get purchase and for a few seconds the bike and I skipped unsteadily on the slimey rocks as neither the brakes nor my foot could hold us. Under control, upright but stuck half way up a steep slope I had to try and get the bike going again, gently feathering the clutch trying to control the spinning rear wheel I managed to fishtail my way up the rest of the hill to relative safety. A couple of minutes later I got to a similar hill but going down and as soon as I squeezed the front brake the front wheel locked and started sliding sideways. Again I managed to keep it upright and ended up rolling the bike down the rocks in the middle of the track to get any available grip. 

I came within inches of crashing four or five times in the space of thirty minutes and was freaking out. I had to get there to find a place to stay and turning back wouldn't have been any easier so I kept going until I found a hostel by the side of the track and pulled in 2km's short of Semuc Champey. 

The folks at the hostel were super friendly and welcoming. A huge storm rolled in that night and the power failed so everyone sat and chatted and played on Totu's (a legendary, reefer junkie, tour guide) set of indigenous instruments. 

In the morning I walked a trail through the jungle down to the bridge at the entrance to Semuc Champey.  I was greeted by a hoard of hyper kids who asked my name then tried to sell me beer and chocolate! Throughout the day the same kids kept finding me and saying "hey mister, mister Jimmy, you want chocolate, maybe beer, maybe later, maybe later"... they were hilarious. 

At Semuc I had to pay Q70 for a guide to take me around the caves. That meant waiting for a group to come in from Lanquin to tag along with. I hopped on a group led by an energetic chubby dude called Ule, he lit candles, tied peoples flipflops to their feet, introduced himself twice then dissapeared into the mouth of a large cave. A river gushed out of the cave and within a couple of meters we were in waist deep, fast moving and surprisingly  cold water. Huge stalactites and stalagmites covered the roof and floor of the cave and provided useful handholds to pull yourself through the water and deeper into the network of tunnels. In a large chamber Ule took our candles and stuck them high up on a rock then led us swimming across to a dark corner where a gushing waterfall smashed down from a tunnel above. Unable to hear any instructions I watched as everyone climbed a ledge and dissapeared into the darkness. I pulled myself up into the pumelling water and blindly groped my way along some rocks, trying to find an air pocket to breath and some sign as to where everyone had gone, finally I found a bit of rope and after a little panic, worked my way around the back of the waterfall and fell with a splash back into the chamber where we had started. 

After the caves two of us launched off the giant rope swing into the river, super, back slapping fun. This was followed by a very tame ten minute glide down the river on an innertube then an awesome walk up to a mirador overlooking the real attraction. 

Semuc Champey is so called because of the special rock formations. The main body of the river slams into a section of rock and dissapears underground for a few hundred meters then spits out in a waterfall and continues like a normal river. Above this a bizzare and very pretty group of natural pools have formed which due to the minerals in the area shimmer with a bright turquoise glow. From above the formation is stunning especially given it's position nestled in jungle covered mountains. After a steep clamber back down from the mirador where we spotted two actual, live snakes!! We went for a swim in the pools then back to our respective hostels.

I remember feeling a little underwhelmed by the caves, the ratio of reward compared to risk didn't seem to stack up considering the effort required to get there. However, by the end of the day I felt immensley satisfied and with hindsight I wouldn't change a thing about it. That said, if I were to do it again there's no way in hell I'd ride that road with a fully laden bike, I was super lucky not to have an accident and am hugely grateful to whatever magical force was looking after me along the way!

Sorry again for so much text... 

Lake Atitlan - Guatemalan Gold

16th - 18th September

From the Earth Lodge I rode down to Antigua for a look around the city. Old colonial buildings line cobbled streets which bustle with an ecclectic mix of people. Smartly dressed office types in ridiculous high heels hobble like cripples over the sketchy cobbles, tourists of all ages walk from street to street, necks craned taking in their surroundings while market stall owners hustle for trade alongside shoeshine boys and beggers with babies chewing on empty cigarette packets. I didn't have much time as the ride to my next destination - San Miguel La Laguna, Lago Atitlan was due to take about three hours and it was already midday. I rode around, checked out a church then took a coffee in a really cool boutiquey coffee shop on the side of the main plaza and watched the people go by.

As I left Antigua the rain started again so I chucked my waterproofs on and hit the highway. Despite the rain the ride was awesome, fast windy roads climbed out of the valley and up into the mountains, after a while the road turned into a dual carriageway and the rain stopped. I bombed along at 120km/hr skipping from one butt cheek to the other banking left then right, then left, then right and so on for hours, I barely went in a straight line for the whole journey, it was great fun. After 2:30hrs I took a turning off the main road and into a small village, the small concrete road wound along around a couple of peaks before starting to drop downhill turning into a zig zagging hairpin fest which quickly disintegrated into gravel and mud. The road was lined with trees and I couldn't tell where I was or how high up but it started to get pretty steep and the rain had started again. A road block stopped the traffic going down, they were paving the hill below and as we were released, I jumped the que of trucks and cars and had great fun skipping between the deep rutted mud and gravel on one side and the half complete concrete sections on the other. The road was like this for a couple of Km's until it changed to a heinous tarmac mess with huge potholes to avoid whilst trying to dodge Tuk-tuks, busses and cars and all the time trying to slow the bike down for the next hairpin. The trees dissappeared and gave way to a mind blowing view over Lake Atitlan, even in the rain it was incredible. A large ring of steep sided mountains dropped down to a huge turquoise / blue lake with this amazing, crumbling serpentine road criss crossing down the hill below. I tried to get the GoPro going but I had run out of memory. The pictures don't do it justice.

I arrived at the tiny village of San Marcos at 5:30pm and parked up in the centre. As I hopped off the bike I heard someone hollering my name... a little spun out I eventually tracked the voices to a minibus and saw Em and Nicole waving out the window! Totally random, they had left El Sunzal in El Salvador five days before heading South to La Tortuga Verde on my recommendation and had already switched back and made it to lake Atitlan all the way up in Guatemala. It was kool to catchup with them but they were staying in the slightly bigger town of San Pedro a half hour round the lake and had to get back on the bus. I said I would come and check it out the next day and off they went. 

I found a hostel, ditched my gear and after a quick introduction to my American and Swedish roommates joined them for a superb veggie meal at the hostel. The next morning I got up early and went to take some photos of the lake, it looked even more amazing in the sunshine. A small reserve fronts the lake at the edge of the village so I paid the small entry fee and walked the trails. There is a large wooden terrace which makes a great place for diving and is used for yoga sessions. These two British girls where just pysching themselves up for the jump as I walked passed and I managed to get a shot of one of them doing an hilarious bird impression, flapping her arms like crazy but inevitably falling like a stone.

My reason for choosing San Marcos over the numerous other villages surrounding the lake was the hippy vibe, tons of places offer yoga, meditation and massage courses, one even had a rudy great big pyramid in the middle and provided month long silent retreats. I didn't have a month but wanted to give meditation a go so booked onto a session starting at 5pm that evening in the pyramid.

At lunchtime I rode the sketchy dirt road round to San Pedro to check out the party town, it would be kool to see Em and Nic but the town was quite big and I figured the chances were slim. The cobbled streets were a maze of one way signs but after 15mins I found the lake front and a place offering parking and frapachinos! As I was supping away these two Aussie shielas walk by the front of the lot and start pearing through a fence at some stray dogs! They had walked about ten minutes from their hostel on the other side of the town just to go look through the gate of this dog rescue place which happened to be right in front of where I parked, literally 5mins before they arrived. It was just too weird! Anyways, they showed me round and we ate lunch by the lake and chatted for a few hours, they are excellent shielas and we got on really well. 

Due to a faff with the GoPro I didn't get back to San Marcos until 4:55pm, I was soaking wet as the rain had come in on the way back and desperate for a wee. I parked the bike and ran in my waterproofs down the tiny alleyways to the pyramid just in time for the meditation session. Sweating and feeling manic I was in the worst possible state for peaceful meditation but hey I was commited. A group of five of us were ushered into the pyramid in silence, I smashed my head on the door frame on the way in and interrupted the    Shaman/priest lady before she was ready, it was too comical. 

Sat crossed legged we breathed in silence for half an hour, then we were instructed to lay on our backs as the lady walked around the circle asking us to think about gratitude, what we were grateful for? Think about your father and the most important lesson he has taught you, be grateful for this... think about your mother, again think about the best lesson she has taught you, now be grateful, tell her how grateful you are... for the next 45mins we were given more promts like this which made me focus on my past and on the positive things which I have experienced. This was not hard for me, I have been immensely blessed in my life with incredible parents, friends and circumstance and I found myself in an utterly peaceful state with the biggest smile on my face and a tear or too rolling down my cheek. It was a great feeling to allow myself the time to look back on my life and realise how much I had to be grateful for, I left the temple (without hitting my head!) in a bubble of happiness and feeling like I didn't want to see anyone for ages... Unfortunately it was over far to quickly and I bumped into a couple from the Earth Lodge which brought me back to reality and a sudden awareness that I still desperately needed the toilet!

There are a lot of Expats living around the edge of this beautiful lake and consequently there are a whole heap of fancy restaurants offering quality local and international dishes. I was dying for a proper meaty feed and was recommended a steak at a little restaurant down a side street in Marcos.    Fillet steak, medium rare, with garlic mash, blue cheese sauce and carrots and brocolli... it transported me back to home instantly. Funny how simple senses evoke vivd memories.

When checking over the bike in the morning I noticed the back box was flapping around and had come loose. A quick trip into the next village got me to a tuk-tuk mechanic who took a drill to the frame and bolted it down properly, in the process he  almost stabbed himself in the stomach when his drill bit snapped... check out the photo of five guys leaning on the bike watching one guy work, classic mechanicing!

Bike fixed I rode off down a dirt track to try and find a waterfall. In the middle of nowhere I parked up and climbed into the jungle. There was bugger all water but some impressive rocks! When I got back to the bike it wouldn't start, nothing, dead flat. I changed the fuse and still nothing. Shit. I walked 15mins back to the nearest town and asked lots of people if there was a mechanic around, they all said no, there wasn't even anyone with a pickup to help me get the bike back to town... with no idea what to do I walked back toward the bike and came across a tuk tuk driver who very kindly picked me up, took me to his place, grabbed a fuse from his bike and took me back to the bike which, with the second new fuse started 1st time! Phewwww. I thought I was in big trouble, it's a very remote place and there are no recovery trucks.

I had wanted to do another meditation session but with all the bike pavlova I had no time and managed to make what should have been one of the most peaceful days ever into a super stressful waste of a day. Such a shame in such an tranquil place.

Anyways, there is far too much waffle above, the long and short of it is that Lago Atitlan is utterly stunning. Anyone going to Guatemala should make this a huge priority.