Doug's South America Excursion

I waited until late in the morning to leave San Ignacio for Mountain Pine Ridge to give the road more time to dry out. Most of the road consisted of rough rocks firmly embedded in the road bed and such sections offered great traction. There were some sections with a clay-type consistency, and fortunately these were mostly dry, because they would be very slippery when wet, as a few spots were. There was very little traffic on the road. It climbed up through pine forests. Here and there small farms and houses with thatched rooves were set off from the roadside. At the entry to the Preserve proper, was a gate, and a guard came out of the nearby house to open the gate and let me pass.

I stopped for a hour or so to explore the Rio On pools, falls, and rocks and ate my packed lunch. while watching a hawk soar overhead. As I got on the bike to continue on, a red fox trotted across the road in front of me. A local guide who was at the pools with some tourists said the road to Caracol, was narrower, not as well graded, and two-track in places, but that it was not much worse than this road.

The small village of Douglas de Silva, formerly Antonio, was the park headquarters, and in addition to the ranger station, there was a small store, school, campground, and a dozen or so white-box wooden houses. Since there was no camping at the ruins at Caracol, and it was late in the afternoon anyways, I decided to camp here, and the ranger pointed me to the campground, An open area adjoining the soccer field, with a screened-in palapa with a picnic table inside, and two WWII quonset huts, one of them locked, the other containing 4 bunks. Since noone else was there I set up my cooking gear on the picnic table in the palapa, and layed out my groung cloth, Thermarest, and Hostel Sleep Sack, an the concrete floor at the other end.

At the small store I had stocked up on a can of corned beef hash, a hunk of cheese, and 2 Cokes, and while I enjoyed this feast, I listened to the Vice Presidential debate on the Voice of America on my short-wave radio, the first time I had used it on this trip. No one came around to collect so the night was apparently gratis. The stars were out in full force. Magnificent! I only wish I knew more constellations.

Thursday October 10

I was the only visitor when I arrived at just after 8am. The caretaker came out of his bungalow to sign me in a collect the nominal entrance fee. Normally they require you to be accompanied initially by a guide, but the other guide had gone out for supplies and hadn't yet been able to get a ride back, and the guy who signed me in, who was also a guide, couldn't leave the entrance area. So he sold me a small map and guide for a dollar, and went over it with me, pointing out the general layout, must see areas, and some things not mentioned specifically in the guide, such as some excavated burial chambers at the back of one of the largest pyramids which one could enter if one had a flashlight. Walking the path into the ruins I came across a beautiful wild, Oscilated Turkey. I spent 3 hours wondering through the ruins, climbing pyramids, and poking into burial chambers. The pyramid known as Canaa, or "sky house", is the tallest man-made structure in Belize at 138 feet. From the top one had a spectacular vista of the surrounding jungle and ruins, and while I was on top a white winged hawk or eagle of some kind soared and circled high overhead. The Mayans often made door lintils out of the wood of a tree with incredibly hard, rot-resistant wood (the name escapes me know; it starts with a Z). One large strucute, known as the Temple of the WOden Lintils still had the original wooden linils in place over its doorways, almost 2000 years later! Just as I was leaving Caracol, another van pulled up with several people and a local guide from San Ignacio.

On the ride back, I stopped at the Rio Frio cave, near the Preserve Headquarters where I had camped last night. The cave is open on both ends, several hundred yards apart, and a river runs through it (couldn't resist). Enough light enters from both ends that you don't need a flashlight to explore it although with a flashlight I was able to scramble across the river and rock-hop along some ledges on the far side. Inside the cave at a large half-circle bend in the river was a large sand beach. Very beautiful.

Further along on the road back to San Ignacio, was the turnoff to Hidden Valley Falls, 9 miles off the main road. This road turned out to be far harder than the road to Caracol, as it was heavily rutted and gullied from rain runoff in many places. The falls themselves, which plunge almost 500 meters into a misty valley, were impressive, though it was mitigated somewhat because one could only view them from a distant viewing platform, and not hike close to them.

I continued back to San Ignacio, and continued on west a couple of miles to Clarissa Falls, which had some small bungalows and cabanas. Rico, an American I had met in Eva's in San Ignacio several days ago, had told me about the place. He and his girlfriend Laura were still staying there and we had dinner together in the small restaurant there. They are Americans in Belize on business, buying a load of rosewood to import into the States for use in making Marimba keys.

Stayed in a dormitary--style palapa, with 6 beds and a hammock, though I was the only person staying there, for 15 Belize dollars.

Chena, a late-30s to mid-40s single mother of 2, owned and ran the place. In addition to the dormitary I was staying in, there were four 4-bedroom palapas with shared bath, and 2 4-bedroom palapas with private bath. She also has a small restaurant, built atop an ancient Mayan mound. It was all located on the family's working cattle ranch, which had both dairy and beef cattle.

Chena, had gone to the US to work, cleaning houses and cooking for 15 hours a day, for 2 years, in order to save enough money to build and open her facility. During this time she had to leave her 2 young children in Belize with relatives. She expressed regret over this, saying her now 20-year old son had turned out "bad", since she was not there during his early teenage years. He was however, now reenrolled in highschool, to get his diploma. Her teenage daughter helped her in the restaurant and with the rooms.

Friday October 11 (56833 miles)

I wasn't motivated enough to want to cross the bordeer and ride to Flores in the rain, especially since all the guidebooks said the road could be very bad when wet. I decided to hang around a while and see what the weather was going to do. Well it pretty much rained the rest of the morning and throughout the afternoon, and my motivation didn't improve, so I ended up hanging out in the restaurant, reading and writing in my journal.

That night during dinner with Rico, Laura, and Joe, an American ex-pat living about a mile up the road, Chena's brother, who now ran the ranch and had TV up at the main ranch house, called to say that CNN was reporting a tropical depression 80 miles off Belize City, with 50 mph winds and danger of developing into a hurricane. Miami TV was expressing astonishment that the Belizean government had yet to issue warnings of any kind. Well that explained today's rain, and made me nervous about the next couple of days. If it developed into a hurrican and moved inland, things could get nasty for several days, and the road conditions might really deteriorate. I was really regretting not having left today, despite the rain, since I probably would have stayed in front of the worst of it.

After dinner, Rico knew of a bar, The Los Angelas Bar, in the nearby border town of Benque, where a Marimba band often played/practiced, so Rico, Laura, Joe and I piled into Rico's rental car, and drove the 4 miles into town. It turned out Friday night was disco night, so the Marimba band was not playing. Joe bought a round of beers, after which we left. It was a useful trip as Rico pointed out a shortcut to the border which avoided downtown Benque.

Saturday October 12 (56901 miles)

The problem is in reacquiring the necessary software, and regenerating the autoexec.bat and config.sys files. I don't remember exactly what is required, and it wasn't straight-forward, even when I did it at home. Some I had to FTP from the internet. I backed some of these files up to both my PC at home, and my account at Bayarea.net, but I don't remember what was backed up where.

Then assuming I can figure out what I need and where to get it, I still have the problem of how to get the files onto my palmtop. Until I can access the compressed flash drive, I can't use the PCMCIA card to transfer files to my palmtop. That's even assuming I could find another PC with a PCMCIA drive to put them on in the first place. One possibility is using the serial port and transfering files via serial line from a PC to the palmtop. But that is not straightforward either.

I know what caused this disaster, but not why it happened the way it did. Basically the backup battery was dead, but I didn't know it, and I removed the main batteries to install a new set. With the backup battery dead, there was then nothing to power the main RAM, and it got wiped out. The builtin applications, and default configuration files for them (e.g. the default phone book) are stored in ROM which does not require battery power, so things basically got reset to their original configuration. There is supposed to be a warning message when the backup battery is low, but either there wasn't such a message or I didn't see it. This really ruined my day.

In addition to no longer being able to send or receive email, I can't download the track data from the GPS, which means I won't be able to save any more track data once the internal track buffer on the GPS fills up. That's generally one full day of riding. Fortunately all my existing trip reports and GPS data is stored on the flash drive, so I should eventually be able to recover it.

In the morning, though it was still drizzling on and off, the report was that the storm had begun to dissipate, and was being downgraded, and because it was so close to land, had very little chance od regaining strength. That made ne feel better, and I decided that rain or not, I was going to cross the border today. After breakfast, and another packed sandwhich to go, I left, arriving at the border at 8:30am.

On the Belize side I was approached by several young boys offering to exchange money. I picked one, and changed 100 US dollars at a rate of 5.8 Quetzales to the dollar, and also got rid of the last 30 of my Mexican pesos. He then led me to the immigrations/customs offices and showed me exactly which windows to go to to take care of my visa and motorcycle papers. A half hour and I was checked out of Belizean customs paying a 8 Belizean dollar exit tax, and rode across the border to the Guatemalan side. The first stop was the fumigation station, where I paid a 7.5Q fee and got a fumigation form, but they said they didn't have to spray the bike, and they waved me on to the gate by the Customs office where I parked. There were more, and longer, forms than when entering Belize, and each one cost something. 80Q for the permit for my motorcycle, and then I had to turn in the fumigation form and pay a further 10Q. I have a feeling the last 10Q was a small bribe which went into the official's pocket since it was the one payment I didn't get a receipt for. But it was the equivalent of less than 2 US dollars, so I just paid it without asking. They then applied a large orange sticker to the bike's windshield, and they lifted the vehicle gate, and I rode into Guatemala at 9:30am. It was drizzling.

I added 3 gallons of gas in the border town of Melchor de Mencos, and headed west to Flores. Flores is a 100km west of the border, the first 65km being unpaved. In fact only a 70lm stretch of road from Flores to the ruins at Tikal are paved, But getting to Flores itself it often an adventure. Besides the route from Belize, there are basically only two other roads from Flores leading to southern Guatemala and Guatemala City in the western highlands. The best of these two roads is **** miles from Flores to Guatemala City, the first 100 miles of which are unpaved.

It was raining, and the road was very rough, alternating between potholes and washboard, and slippery. One had to constantly keep your eye on the road to avoid the mud-filled potholes, and slippery areas. I had gone no more than 7 miles when I looked down and saw that my handlebar-mounted waterbottle was no longer there. The velco strap had been jarred loose from the constant pounding of the potholes and washboard. I knew it had happened in the last 3 miles since I had stopped 3 miles back to put the raincover on my tankbag. So I turned around, and rode slowly back along the road, in the rain, looking along side the road, while at the same time trying to avoid the potholes and mudholes. The slow speed made negotiating the mudholes worse as the front end slid around more. I go 3.5 miles and don't find the bottle. So I turn around again, retracing my route for the 3rd time, beginning to resign myself to the idea of having lost my waterbottle. A tenth of a mile from where I noticed it missing I spotted it lying in some weeds at the side of the road!

The remainder of the 65km of unpaved road was more of the same, potholes, washboard, mudholes, and flat mud-covered, slippery stretches. I averaged 35mph over most of it. There was one long uphill stretch, rocky and slippery, and one stretch of about a mile, so covered in deep potholes that I had to pick my way through at 10-15mph. But My speeds on the bike were still faster than the infrequent bus and truck traffic I encountered.

There were only 2 small villages along the way, neither with, gas, or organized lodging or food. At the village of El Cruce, I regained the pavement. From El Cruce the paved road runs 35km north to the ruins at Tikal, and 35km west to the twin icities of Santa Elana, on the shore of Lake Peten Itza, and Flores, situated on a small island out in the lake and reachable by a short causeway.

I needed to get more Quetzales, and my guidebook said there was a bank with an ATM machine on the PLUS system in Flores, so I headed there, getting a room, with private bath, at the Hotel La Canoa in Flores for 50Q. After a shower, both for myself and my riding suit (the mud here dries into a fine powdery film, which getts all over everything, making a real mess), I found a store which carried the type of backup battery I needed for my palmtop, and bought 2, keeping one for a spare. I still hadn't attempted to recover from the mornings disaster. But I found that the bank didn't have, and never did, an ATM machine, but that there was a branch of the Banco Industrial in Santa Elena, and supposedly all their branches had 24-hour ATM machines. I decided I'd walk over in the morning to check it out.

It showered off and on that afternoon and evening. Downpour woulf be a better term, for when it rained, it came down in buckets, but such downpours usually lasted only a half hour or so. Flores, situated on a small circular island, has a couple of circular streets running around the island, and cross-streets running radially out from the town square, situated on the top of the small hill located at the center od the island. All the streets were paved with cobblestones or paving stones, except the causeway, and the outermost circular street, on which my hotel was located. That street, true to form, was full of potholes, and mudholes, moreso right after a downpour.

Approaching Flores from the causeway presented a beautiful sight, the island surrounded by the waters of the lake, and the red-tile roofs of the buildings sloping up from the lakeshore to the plaza on the hill. From the plaza in the center there were a number of good views ocverlooking the lake and the small canoes going between Flores, santa Elena, and several other small villages on the far lakeshore. Such canoes were the only way of reaching Flores before the causeway was built.

One side of the town plaza was devotred to playing fields for the town's youth. A ball diamond, basketball court, and soccer field all shared the same real estate, and at times all 3 games were in progress, the teams mixing on the playing field, and often interfering one with the other, but that was seemingly just a part of the game here in Flores. Home plate was backed up against one corner of the plaza, and a high fence lined the first and third base lines in an attempt to keep the ball from falling the 2 stories to the steeply-sloping streets below.

I tried placing a call back to the States, from a payphone outside one of the larger hotels in Flores, but wasn't able to get through.

Sunday October 13

I found a branch of Banco Industrial with an ATM machine on the