All we’ve heard about border crossings is that it’s a big confusing, time consuming mess. So far, touch wood, each border crossing has been a piece of cake. Even with our very limited understanding of Spanish, which sounds different each country we pass through and in Guatemala it’s very different again! First we carefully exchanged $100 USD for Q700, not the best rate, but on a Sunday whatchya gonna do. Checked all the bills were legit and went to pay our exit tax and stamp ourselves out of Belize. Then drove the truck through their fumigation car wash, paid the fee and collected the receipt. Just as well we exchanged the money as Quetzal, the Guatemalan currency, as this is the only form of payment accepted. Cash is king in Guatemala, and i’m not talking about the almighty ‘green-back’. Inside we were screened for Corona Virus (Covid-19). The nurses were behind masks and used an infrared thermometer to take our temperatures. Our first sign of official precautions, living on the road with limited wifi we haven’t been fully aware of the true magnitude of this virus and how far & fast it’s spreading. A Pandemic, reaching all corners of the world with frightening speed. Filling in the immigration forms and getting our 90 day visitors visa was straight forward, again no line ups and no waiting. The truck temporary import permit, TIP, took about 30 mins, getting the forms filled out correctly, checking the vehicle identity number, VIN, and paying the fee, which is normally paid at the bank across the street. But it’s Sunday and the banks are closed, so instead of paying the Q90, we had to pay Q130 at a secondary office that prints the permits. Crummy, but that’s what you get for crossing on a Sunday. Within two hours we were on our way.

It’s amazing how an invisible, political, line can divide and define cultures so quickly. Even Spanish sounds different again, we can hardly understand a word! Topes are now called Tumulos, they are just as frequent. Diesel is much cheaper, so we fill up and make our way towards Tikal.

same but different

The ancient city was like no other ruins we’ve visited, nestled in the fold of the Guatemalan jungle, spread out over a large area where hundreds of temples remain buried.  Even though we’ve visited many ruins, i’m still excited to be here, fascinated how man was so capable of building such complex structures with such primitive tools. We decided to head to the farthest and tallest temple first, then work our way out as the day grows hotter and before before the kids start to melt.  

A gentle climb along wide pathways beneath the thick canopy in the early morning light, set the atmosphere for adventure.  We tried to envision the people, thousands of years ago, moving about, working industriously carrying rocks, water & wood.  Smokey campfires with cooking aromas, children playing their games with dogs and chickens running around the palapa roofed houses.  

The temple of the two headed snake is the farthest out and takes us a half hour to reach.  A steep set of wood stairs has been built to preserve the ancient structures and for us to climb.  The kids made light work of them, at the top we sat (relatively) still and quiet for a few minutes to take in the view & cool morning air.  Above the tree tops we could see dozens of parrots & other birds flying around, hear the call of toucans and warbling song of the Montezuma Oropendola.  

I love how nature continues on, man arrived and clears the land, builds massive stone structures, then is gone just as quickly as he came.  Slowly over time plants take root, decompose and regenerate gradually forming thick layers of vegetation that eventually consumed what man painstakingly built, as if it was never there.  Each of the 12 temples, stand alone, built with its own unique purpose, history and orientation have been carefully preserved and restored.

Our off scale map is a little confusing, Charley said it made sense to her and happily took control of the day, planned our route and guided us to each temple, telling the name and triumphantly declaring how well she can read a map & navigate.  I have to be careful, my job could be under threat 🙂

The temples are all different in shape and design, built over an 800 year period with different influences reflecting in the architecture. The towering steep sided temples rise to heights of more than 44m.  The wide pathways we walked on were the original causeways once built of packed limestone to accommodate the construction traffic and rain.   The Maya settled here around 200 BC, by 700 BC several temples were built. The people gradually moved outward in every direction, settling in small farming communities whose dependents I’m sure are still farming the same lands today. 

We’d been in a few hours and can see the kids starting to tire so we shift to look for animals. Jaxon spots a lone Howler monkey on a high branch, spider monkeys are playing on the ruins, beautiful Oscillated turkeys roam freely and we even catch sight of an endangered golden falcon. We can hear Toucans but can’t see them clearly without binoculars which I wished we’d brought along.

By 10:30am the tour busses have arrived and people are pouring in.  Taking a break in the shade up high overlooking the main plaza we watched the various groups being guided through with lengthy explanations.  We have our photos and memories are etched, time to make our way out, we’ve all had enough, the last 5 hours flew by.  Walking out Jaxon spots a dead monkey on the ground, an anteater of some kind hoovering up as many ants as possible, several Caoti and two Tapir foraging in the bush beside the truck.  

While the kids are playing outside I made lunch, before driving on at midday as a stream of busses roll in.  Perfect timing.     

We’re heading towards Flores, a small island on the lake connected by a causeway.  Stopping first for supplies and an ATM machine at a modern mall before finding our way to an empty parking lot beside a police station where we camped for the night.  

March 10th

Lying in bed I can hear people running, early morning fitness training, men are doing laps of the carpark, not sure if they are from the police station or a sports team.  We have an easy start before riding our bikes over to Flores Is.  a small island on the Lake Penten Itza.   In Pre-Columbian times Flores was the Mayan city of Nojepten.  The last Mayan state to hold out against the Spanish who conquered in 1697 and destroyed it.  Today the waterfront properties are character guesthouses, hotels and cafe’s.  Some of the streets are still cobblestone with inter connecting narrow alleys, just big enough to ride through.  There are some tourist shops selling woven cloth, baskets and carvings.    Small lake boats buzz about offering tours or passage to the small village on the other side of the lake.  We buy a cold drink from a small house front store, the older lady had baked fresh carrot cake and banana bread that can’t be resisted.  She has a little bit of everything on the shelves.  Her chair and table is covered in open books, I’m curious as to what she is studying, but my Spanish isn’t good enough to understand her reply.  

From Flores we drive towards Sayaxche.

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