The passage of time between Palenque and Guatemala

The written words have faded again. This time it is because that all elusive word time, has slipped by unnoticed in my enjoyment of how this adventure has been unfolding before my very eyes. Granted, lots of thoughts about what I’m going to discuss in my writings have filled my mind in the many miles I’ve journeyed since my last update. But they rush through me like the wind in my face as the bike pushes forward through the humid land of limestone and jungle… And it is hard to find them again once the flow of wind is not in my face anymore. I left San Cristobal more than a week ago and headed into México’s majestic Mayan temples of Palenque. Patient had left the day before and I made the ride solo through the land of the anti-political group, The Zapatistas, where the Mexican government has no reign. The signs stating this fact were so imposing on me that I couldn’t muster the will to stop and photo the warnings when I entered their small villages knowing the meaning behind their struggle for freedom.

I had plenty of time to wander and explore the city of San Cristobal de Las Casas and found that it was an interesting place, and one that I liked for numerous reasons. Built in the sixteenth century by the Spaniards the quaint city of cobblestone had a charm I had not felt or seen in any other place we had stopped. The narrow sidewalks were barely wide enough to hold one person and were hard to manage with all the taxis and traffic zooming by on the streets. The people there hold disdain for the church and its controlling power of over the mind to live freely. They don’t like the judgments passed on them for choosing a life outside of the church and that is a feeling that I have always been able to identify with. Moreover, in México, the church is something the poor and unthinking have unknowingly condemned and committed their lives too in the hopes of a better chance in afterlife (heaven) as their will to prosper has been trounced upon by the haves. In my opinion morals are morals no matter who the preachers are… They also hold contempt for the corrupt government that has long held them under foot in this society that has no middle class. There are haves and have not’s here and the have not’s started rebelling against the government long ago. On January 1, 1994, an armed non violent indigenous group calling themselves the Zapatistas, in the name of Emiliano Zapata, took over this city and demanded more freedom to farm their lands and be free from the governments corrupt agenda that was holding them down. I knew that coming into this city and was excited to see how different this place felt from the rest of the México I had been touring. Generally the southern states of México are more rebellious and we thoughtfully avoided the state of Oaxaca due to its current ongoing struggle in the capital of that state. The people there are much like the Zapatistas, although less organized and not indigenous, who are tired of being taken advantage of and are rioting and protesting in the streets until the governor of that state is removed. They have a teachers union standing behind them and I doubt that the thousands of unruly citizens will stop until they have their request filled.

As I digress… The ride to Palenque through the jungle of struggle was impressive knowing that they succeeded in winning some semblance of freedom from their oppressive government. The ever present ominous skies of Chiapas were also looming above to help add more contrast to the fleeting feelings that were going through my head. It was good to climb back atop my abused horse and get moving again after the week of lingering in Cristobal while I was down waiting for the ill-treated sprockets and chain of my chariot. I eagerly climbed in the saddle and rode fast and hard through the winding road of the revolutionaries after I topped off at a Pemex station. I knew from an email I had received from Patient that the ride was to consume nearly three hours over the course of 138 miles and settled in for the view as I twisted my way up and down the hills of the mountainous jungle. He also noted that the cool nights in the high elevation were gone for him and would be for me as well once I descended back down to the reality of México’s lowlands…

I stopped at a swimming hole to disrupt the ridiculously hot temperatures and wash away some guilt in the falls of Misol-Ha. The falls towered above me as I walked down the path that leads to the pool that lies below the one hundred foot cascade. The dense mist that rose from the force of nature splashing down was hanging in the air giving life to the wall of rock that separated the pool from the river above. The growth of moss and flora was so abundant it looked like Bob Ross himself created the picturesque scene on his canvass and showed it to the gods so they could make it true to the beauty of his work. I quickly stripped down to my bathing suit and jumped into the painting before I could surmise how to even begin to photograph this splendid scene. I also quickly forgot about the heat and humidity that was no longer boiling my mind and swam in the cool waters towards the center of the hydraulic where I could best feel the force of the cascade as it tumbled down the wall and into the deep pool that was holding me like a mother with her new born . The current was swift and kept me at bay as I struggled to reach the powerful force of gravity where the hydraulic was created. I whirled my arms with all my power and finally reached the goings-on and gave up on my struggle to feel, only to be sent rapidly without restraint back into the massive pool and away from the power of it all. After I swam some more and wondered how this place would be much different if it were in the land of lawyers and greed I was happy I stopped and enjoyed the massive falls at Misol-Ha here in México. Patient and I have had this ongoing conversation about how lawyers would have a heyday here exposing all the ripe opportunities for frivolous lawsuits and it constantly reminds us of Carlos’s “only in México” book that we now surely believe has a ton of marketable value, for both lawyers and photographers alike.

I circumnavigated the pool and found a narrow foot trail that lead behind the falls and had the opportunity to silhouette a young woman against the misty tower of water. I almost felt like a pervert but hastily came to the reminder that I am one and felt no guilt for taking a few shots of the loveliness that a woman can exude, just being a woman. Once I finished the walk and redressed for the remainder of my ride and the descent into Palenque I sat near the edge of the jungle and listened to the unseen monkeys play in the triple canopy of The Lancandon Rainforest. Twelve miles later I found myself in the city of Palenque and the hotel where Patient was holed up in the air conditioned room profusely sweating. He had toured the ruins that day and was speechless repeating the phrase “words can not do justice to the enormity of those temples…”


We awoke early the next morning and toured the ruins in the waning hours of golden light that sunrises tend shed. The humidity was strong and the sweat was quickly consuming Patient’s not so dry attire. Thirty minutes into the tour he was drenched and only the small band between the bottom of his shirt where it was overlapping his trousers remained untouched by his constant perspiration. As we ascended up and down the steep steps to the temples it looked like a rain cloud was assigned to hover above him and kept him moist with its dew. His mantra that he kept repeating yesterday rang in my ears all day as we walked in awe of the Mayans superfluous planning of this ancient empire. My photos felt awkward and forced as I tried in vain to show the scale of the temples as well as the beauty of the ornate carvings in the edifices. The carvings represented the meaning of the structure and they had all their bases covered to include everything from the smoke breathing spiritualist to the dentist… No stone was left unturned (no pun intended) by the time we exited the grounds and overall it was another mind blowing experience. To think that the city was erected in the middle of a triple canopy jungle in 4 A.D. and by the simplest means possible was and still is almost incomprehensible to my modern American mind. The Mayans held fort there until 700 A.D. when the gods took the cities last ruler and the city slowly became uninhabited with his passing.

There was little we could say to one another with such awe within our minds and thus we headed out on a four hundred mile leg of road into the limestone shelf of the Yucatan Peninsula to be at one with the feelings. We were searching for the city of Tolum and the Mayan ruins there that lined the coast of the world’s second biggest reef system. The young porous earth stretches south from Cancun into Belize, Honduras and Nicaragua and east into the salty blue underworld of the Caribbean coast’s popular diving attractions. We covered our four hundred mile goal and stopped a hundred short of the city tired and groggy from the day’s events. We settled into a hotel on the beach with a pool and a cozy room that was equipped another one of México’s waiting for the lawyers of America nuances. This one in particular had wiring emerging from an obviously bad connection in the wall that lead to a switch which controlled the waters temperature by means of the intricately spliced wires held together with nothing more thin a thin strip of black electrical tape. Even if I weren’t in ninety degree heat with ninety percent humidity I would have forgone the use of this shady system and cleansed my body in the refreshingly chilly waters emanating from that contraption. In other words my fellow friends, as tempting as it was I was still smart enough to refrain from flipping the switch whilst standing naked in the shower…

We awoke early Sat morning eager to get to Tolum and ate at one of the few restaurants that was open. The shack had a few tables of locals who were fervently stuffing burritos down their gullets. Burritos at 8:30 am you ask, well only in México is my reply. I didn’t want burritos myself but they sure seemed to be enjoying them so much that Patient was coaxed into trying one for himself. A thick black paste lined the small corn tortilla that was said to be chili negro by one of the eager beavers at a nearby table. He ate the one small burrito in three quick bites and had a flame of heat rolling out of his mouth shortly afterwards. I am so glad that I stuck with the ol’ standard of Huevos Rancheros and avoided the ring of fire that was soon to come for my pal Patient…

After breakfast was finished and Patient’s maw was sufficiently back to a normal operating temperature we mounted the steeds and blazed north to Tolum for some beachside cabanas and relaxation. There were hammocks swung up in tress and a bar that had swings instead of seats to help with the ambiance of the way too laid back resort we ended up staying at. The cabanas were meager at best, but they had everything we needed to make the stay worthwhile. Two beds, although Patient swore his was box spring not a mattress, furnished with mosquito nets sat inside a raised 12x12 concrete slab that made the foundation. The sides of the cabana were loosely dressed with thin logs that allowed the air to move freely into the structure, hence the mosquito nets on the beds. A thatched roof of palm frawns topped the building which sat a mere thirty yards off the beach. From the roof of frawns a single cord lacking a switch was dangling down towards the center of the room with a light bulb that only worked between the hours of 8 p.m. to ten p.m. For obvious reasons the light was manipulated through the means of either screwing it in or out in order to make it function. We ended up staying there for three nights while we explored the beautiful area of Tolum. The first night we tied one on at the resort as Patient let the sound of the crashing surf wash away the pain of his many tormented years managing restaurants. The beer flowed freely into our bodies as the sunset turned into night brought the daily ritual of hard rain into the beachside resort. To my amazement the deluge of water lasted a mere twenty minutes or so and left the cabana unscathed, to include the light fixture. After the deluge my mind was a bit foggy but I think that’s when we hooked up with Mr. Bacardi and the night quickly became a blur.

The next morning we were in no mood to rush things and fell into the routine of the laid back atmosphere and lazily swam, read snorkeled and swung the day away. We found more swings hung from a high deck above down on the beach made of bamboo frames topped with plastic mattresses the size of double beds. The swing helped coax us into a lethargic melee of slowing down and before we knew it the evening surge of water was pushing us off the beaches. You could see the wall of rain heading towards us as the sun was shedding its last rays of light and Patient had to run to the cabana to put his laptop away before the downpour exploded above the resort. Thirty minutes later all was well so we rode into town and had a feast of a dinner at an artistic flavored bar with brightly colored Mayan paintings adorning the walls.

The last day we had in Tolum we toured the ruins and snorkeled the reef below them. The early morning light wasn’t grand but the clouds held true to their nature and helped fill in the contrast of my photos with a nice dramatic sky. The ruins there were no where near as grand as Palenque but they were just as beautiful perched on the cliffs above the aqua blue sea and white sand beaches. We snorkeled the reefs off the beach at the site and dreamily washed a few hours away. Tolum, due to its location, was one of the last Mayan villages to fall as a result of the Spaniards invasion of México in the mid fifteen hundreds. The Spaniards then took advantage of the Mayan advantage and occupied the fort as a means to guard the coast after they stole the site from the Mayans. The humidity was high that day and we had heard and read about cenotes in the area so decided to go cool off in one after we left the ruins of Tolum and ate some lunch. A cenote is a freshwater pool of water that forms in the porous earth of limestone that makes up most of the Yucatan peninsula. Some cenotes stand out in the open above ground, but the ones we wanted to visit were the ones that collect below the ground in the numerous cave systems of the area. Because we wanted to visit those we had to acquire a guide and found one in the guide book not too far from the cabana.

We arrived with snorkels and masks in hand at the cenote anxious to explore the underworlds in the dark caverns. The guide gave us some wet suits and picked us up in his “limo” from a parking area and took us on a fifteen minute drive through the thick jungle to explore the first of two caves. He explained that because the earth is so permeable in the Yucatan that the caves water levels can change quickly if a big storm moves through the area. It reminded me of the hazards of canyoneering in the slots of the Colorado plateau where one must be cognizant of the weather in order to be safe. Once we arrived at a small clearing he pulled over and we saw a metal ladder that descended beneath the earth into a deep hole. We climbed down into the dark abyss nervous and excited all at once. He started a generator above ground and a number of spot lights, both above and under the water, came to life exposing the large circular room of the caves entrance dressed with stalactites and stalagmites. These two scientific terms refer to a formation specific to caves and they take the shape of large icicles that hang down (stalactites) and rise up (stalagmites) from the caves ceiling and floor respectively. From here on out I’ll just refer to them as icicles to ease the processes of the mind and explain if the are hanging down or rising up so that you know which icicles I’m referring too.

The water was ice cold and the wet suits were a welcome treat as we merged into the underworld of cave snorkeling. As we swam down into the cracks and crevasses of the cave a rich sense of supreme calmness radiated from within me. The eerie icicles in the cave made me feel like I was in the setting of a Wes Craven horror movie and somehow it made me feel more at ease as I explored the creepy scene. We dove down into the cracks and swam underwater through many tunnels and cracks in the vast cave. We also had to be careful when we were coming back up for air as the caves formation may fool you into in pocket where there is no air but a mass of hanging icicles ready to poke you in the head instead. We a snorkeled in a huge loop there exploring the pockets and strange geology for about forty five minutes when the guide said “times up” and we regretfully made our way back to the dock where the metal stairs ascended up towards the small beam of natural light. The guide asked us if we wanted to walk around the cave for a bit before we left and then lead us into the darkness towards the opposite side of the opening. He shined his light down into a small pool of water where once you went in it the only thing to do was dive down into a mouth of the underworld. He said that this was one of the jumping off points for the diving tours and it instantly made me wish I had my dive certification.

Once back above ground we loaded into the limo and drove ten minutes to another small clearing where we unloaded and descended another ladder that lead beneath the earth. At the bottom of this ladder was only a small area of rock that was above waterline and the vastness of open space and the generated lights from the last cave was no longer there. The guide handed us flashlights and stepped off the rocks into a shallow pool that lead us into a narrow tunnel. The water was barely deep enough to swim in and he reminded us to watch our knees on the protruding stalagmites that rose from the floor once we started swimming. We swam above the stalagmites in a twelve foot long narrow channel of the cave of more formations than I ever imagine existed. The icicles from above hung so low that if we didn’t keep a watchful eye above water as well we could have easily bumped into them with the surface of our heads as we snorkeled our way through the maze of corridors. At the end of this first narrow channel the cave opened up into a room where we stopped and turned the lights off and I don’t think I’ve ever had a better opportunity to use the “couldn’t see my hand an inch from my face” phrase to explain the utter blackness that followed. The guide brought the reality of the cave back to us with a click of his light and we followed him into the maze of narrow channels for another forty minutes before we made a loop back near the entrance. At the end of the last tunnel of icicles we came to a large room that opened to depths of thirty to forty feet. It and actually allowed us to dive down under the water after feeling so restrained in the tunnels of the maze of crazy formations we had nearly crawled through. Literally, there were times when the icicles rose up from the depths so close to me as we swam above them I used them to pull myself forward instead of kicking my legs in a swimming motion. If only I had an underwater housing for my camera… After the cenote tour ended I felt like it had been one of the best guided adventure trips Id ever indulged in. I highly recommend anyone visiting the Yucatan peninsula to partake in one.

A month had nearly passed and our tourist cards for México were about to expire. We entered Baja on the 28th of Sept and it was now the 23rd of Oct. I was becoming aware of my trip ending soon and it also occurred to me that making it to Panama was probably not going to happen. We talked about what was next on our list of places to see and things to do and came to the conclusion we should start heading south again. We awoke on the 24th and drove a hundred miles to the border of Belize and made another hassle free crossing. The national language of Belize is English and neither Patient nor I had planned on doing or seeing much in Belize so we blasted through the country in one day. We stooped in San Ignacio near the Guatemalan border and decided that we should at least stay here one night and head across the border tomorrow. San Ignacio is surrounded by rolling hills and has many beautiful attractions that draw locals and tourists here to partake in the many adventures in the area. There was a tubing tour we were interested in but it cost 70 bucks and that was defiantly out of the budget so we hung out with some Rasta’s and avoided doing much due to the high cost of everything there with the exception of food. Hell even beers were two bucks a piece. We awoke early and had our first almost American meal of flapjacks, potatoes, eggs and bacon. I hadn’t eaten potatoes or even seen them on any menu in the month we spent in México so I was happy to at least enjoy those before we rode the twelve miles to the Guatemalan border.

As most border towns do the border at Guatemala seemed sketchy and we had people hounding us to exchange money to Quetzales, the local Guatemalan currency, as soon as we pulled into the border area. We dismounted our bikes and checked ourselves out of Belize first while we thought about whether or not we should make a small exchange to get us through the border. While at the customs counter in Belize I asked what the exchange rate was and saw that the locals outside were giving a fair rate making a measly two percent on each dollar we changed. At every border we have to check ourselves and our bikes out of one country then cross the actual border and check ourselves in with immigration then find customs to declare or bikes as well in the new country. Cash seems to be the only means to pay the fees at customs and immigration for the vehicle permits so we changed twenty bucks worth between us into the local currency just to slide us through. We have both heard lengthy horror stories about being overcharged during this process but we had yet to experience them ourselves and easily moved away from the border happy to have another new stamp in our passports…