Humbled in The Volcano's Shadow

Feb 2nd to 4th

It feels good to leave Taxisco. it's probably only one of a couple of times we have not felt safe in a Guatemala town. It's a feeling that does not go away when a motorcyclist pulls along side me and then forces me to stop so he can warn me off the road we are travelling.

'Why are you going this way?' he enquires. 'There are armed robbers and kidnappers on this road' he explains.

The road in question climbs north along the shoulder of Tecuamburro Volcano to our next destination Cuilapa. If you cycle tour long enough, you will hear this kind of warning many times about 'this road' or 'that town' or sometimes even about entire countries. You have to respect some warnings, whilst others are just mere prejudice or simply fear of the unknown. We cycle on....

The day is again incredibly hot and humid and after 8 miles or so the road aims unerringly towards the steep side of the volcano. It doesn't take us long to realise this is going to be a challenge - this ride would have been a challenge before we spent 4 months at home eating cream desserts and watching TV.....

After 3 hours grinding in our bottom gears we are stopping to cool down and catch our breath every 500 meters or so and we are falling way behind schedule. There is little to no shade on the road and we ride in the full glare of a fierce sun. I am carrying 14 liters of water, Sue has 4 more and we are rapidly getting through it. We are stopped and warned about the road again and I am beginning to wonder....

2 hours later we are still climbing and Sue is pushing her bike as much as riding now. I ride part way, then jog back and help push her bike uphill ahead of my parked bike then ride to catch her up. We do this in relays. A third passer by stops and quite angrily barks at me not to leave my bike unattended. This is getting crazy now....

We're just going too slowly and we finally crest the climb well into the afternoon. If we had expected spectacular views from the summit we are in for a disappointment....

A ghostly figure emerges from a thick soup of smoke. The air is thick with an acrid smell that burns the throat as we try to hold our breath long enough to ride through the worst of it. This is the solution to Guatemala's waste problem. Lorry loads are carted to the top of high passes, where families live to incinerate the mess in great bonfires before pushing the half burnt detritus over the edge where it spills for miles down the volcano's side. Raggedy urchins play in the filth looking for salvage as do carrion birds from upon high....

It's a horrible spectacle, especially when you consider how a view point like this would be turned into a beauty spot elsewhere.

I am torn and it's hard to be too critical when a country gains access to plastic bottles, coca cola cans and the other trappings of modern life before it has organised a solution to deal with the problem. Maybe we in the west are just better at hiding the things by covering them up in land fill sites. It's a hugely sad sight non the less.

By 4 pm we are another sad sight as we collapse exhausted for the umpteenth time by the road side. We are finally spent after fighting heat exhaustion, humidity and crazy gradients for over 8 and a half hours. Normally we would just throw up the tent, cook up some pasta and sleep it off for the next 12 hours, but the repeated warnings have got to me and it just doesn't feel right here. Up here in the mountains, there is just no flat land and it's impossible to get more than a few meters off the road. With just 11 miles to go we know we cannot make it before dark and we finally have to swallow the bitter pill of defeat and stick out the thumb. It's an ignominious entry into Cuilapa on the back of a pick up truck.

The heat exhaustion is the worst of it and we rest the next day and rebuild our strength in local restaurants....

I can see why they turn to alternative food sources when the cattle are in such poor shape....

Learning a lesson we hit the road at dawn and ride for a brief couple of cool hours before the sun builds to full power. We ride for the border 75kms distant over land that ripples in and out of valleys away from the volcano....

We are passed on the road by hundreds of speeding motorbikes; many in groups set up for touring. Curiosity gets the better of us and we stop at a petrol station and meet a gang bound for a Central American bike convention in San Salvador....

The border is beautifully set on a bridge over the Chalchuapa River with Vulcan Suchitan some 30 miles away in the distance....

Once we persuade the all too aggressive money changers to 'go away', the crossing is a formality as Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua all belong to a group of nations and share a common entry visa.

It's over the bridge and 'Welcome to El Salvador'....

(Un)Easy Beginnings

January 31st to February 1st

We're going to be on telly....

There's a choice of two roads out of Antigua; East through the stinking car choked mess that is Guatemala City, or South through the deep valley between the monster peaks of Volcanoes Fuego, Agua and Acatenango (fire, water and errr.... Acatenango).

No contest really and we finally get this cycle tour on the road and ride South!

Separated by just 15kms (10 miles) these mighty peaks stand well over 3700m (12,500ft) and they're a neck craning spectacle from the valley floor 2500m below. 'Dramatic' was a word invented for such scenery.

Unfortunately their summits are shrouded in cloud, and whilst we wait for a gap in the grey, two other cyclists join us. Alex and Fin, are two British cyclists accompanied by their Dutch film crew who just happen to be passing by. They're on a mission charting the effects of climate change whilst filming a 13 part documentary for Dutch television....

We've been chatting for 10 minutes – just the normal exchange of routes, stories and experiences when we realise the whole thing is being filmed. The main camera crew only joins the guys three times for a total of 9 days in their eight month ride from Alaska to Panama – the rest of the tour is filmed by Fin and Alex on a hand held camera. As our interview is completely spontaneous and was filmed by the crew, we are told there's a good chance it will be included. We sign release forms to allow use of the footage – I particularly like the bit of the form that says 'Name Of Talent'.

This is Fin and Alex's first tour and another couple is being filmed riding simultaneously from Colombia to Tierra del Fuego to chart a bicycle tourist's perspective from the extreme north to the southern tip of the planet. It should make for an interesting documentary and I hope it is made available outside of Holland. It's a bold undertaking for two guys who have never done anything like this before and we wish them well....

Unfortunately the clouds remain and sadly it's a grey day to be riding such a fantastic route. Volcano Fuego is still active and every few minutes it rumbles and spits grey fire high into the sky. It's just a little unnerving to be this close to the slumbering beast....

The ride is a nice way to get our lazy legs turning once again now they have gone so soft and pudgy after such an extended lay off. We race out of the highlands and down to the coastal plains, dropping 1100m in the day, before stopping in the dusty town of Esquintla.

The next day dawns clear and bright and suddenly the temperature is noticeably higher. The cool mountain breezes have been replaced by still muggy air so hot and languid, it's almost chewy. We ride and feel the heavy reluctance of the air as it parts to go around us. 15 miles to the East another active cone (Vulcan Pacaya that we climbed before Christmas) smoulders and creates it's own localised cloud cover in an otherwise pristine sky....

We ride across a thin wedge of flat coastal plain lying just a few metres above sea level and narrowing from around 40 miles in Western Guatemala to just a few miles at the El Salvador border. It's fertile land and Esquintla and it's surrounds are home to sugar processing plants. Huge 34 wheel wagons carry what at first looks like ordinary tree branches, but on closer inspection turn out to be raw sugar cane....

The terrain is relatively easy riding over a series of undulations, however it's not just in the legs where we have lost conditioning and the heat begins to take it's toll. Drink and cool-down breaks are frequent and progress is slow, which is no bad thing as it would be a shame to rush....

We cross a series of small rivers as mountain rainfall drains south towards the sea. Above is spectacular colour as the trees are in bloom, their flowers aglow against a deep azure sky.

Below, sections of the road seem to crawl and move under our wheels as hundreds upon thousands of flying insects come together in an orgy of procreation...

The heat does take a heavy toll and we roll wearily into a dangerous looking town Taxisco still 10 miles short of our intended stop for the night. This is not a place we would choose to rest up for the night. Men stare emptily at the midday day sun, sitting dejectedly on pavements. Drunks shuffle by bar stool gamblers mumbling incoherently. A few sport holstered pistols on their hips and the banks are guarded by hired shotguns. Communication with shop owners is met with indifferent silence or a slurred version of Spanish so rapid neither of us can even catch single words.

None of this matters though; we are spent for the day and find a room in a hotel showing signs of former glory. Chickens are the only ones interested in the empty swimming pool - it's faded paint peeling and chipped....

We put the bikes in the room, lock our door and settle in for a hot sticky night...

The Next Chapter

January 11th to January 31st

Cycle tours never begin smoothly.....

At least that's my experience of them.

Arriving at Manchester airport 50 minutes later than planned due to snow related cancellation of the early train, I attempt to check-in. What can go wrong this time? I don't even have a bike with me, and thus disguised as just another normal traveller, all should be well - me thinks.

That is until an official checks my itinerary and states categorically that I cannot fly!

Hmmm – that sounds bad....

I'm returning via the United States and I'm informed that as a British citizen, I cannot fly to America on the return part of a ticket. She becomes suspicious when I explain I am on a bicycle tour and after checking my luggage she can't find a bike anywhere. She calls reinforcements and now there are 3 of them.

I left the bike in a pub in Guatemala three months ago I casually explain to them.

Their faces are a dead giveaway - they don't seem to believe me and time is pressing.....

After returning with proof of an onward flight to Guatemala and pages from my blog hastily printed at an internet terminal, they finally begin to waver. Shreds of truth supporting my story are beginning to emerge, but they don't back down that easily. The final debate seems to surround whether Guatemala is 'contiguous' with the United States - whatever that means. If it is – I still can't fly.

In the time honoured tradition of bureaucrats the world over they finally make a decision....

To pass the buck....

'Cameron' should have the final say.... So I am standing at an empty check-in area – (all other passengers have long since gone and are sipping coffee by the departure gate) whilst a phone call is placed to some bloke who gets to decide if Guatemala is indeed 'contiguous' and whether or not I fly today.

Finally, Cameron he say 'Yes'..... and I have 40 minutes to get that plane! Sprinting through airports is becoming a form of warm up exercise before cycle tours.

Sue on a separate flight, is also affected by the cycle tour curse. She gets delayed in Manchester misses her connection at Heathrow and is diverted an extra 2000 miles and ten hours via Los Angeles.

Of course her luggage isn't.

We are reunited at 6am outside Guatemala airport and agree it's all been worth it to swap the big freeze in the UK.....

To finally be back in the heat and colour that is Guatemala.....

We head for Antigua to await Sue's bag and collect bicycle number one.

That takes 3 days....

We head for San Pedro to collect my bike.....

That takes 7 days.

Well, getting the bike takes a day as Simon the guy who has my bike at The Alegre Pub is a fine fellow and there are no problems there. No the only problem is leaving Lake Atitlan again. Sue signs up for another Spanish school and I set up a cycle maintenance school as all the locals start bringing me their bikes once they see me overhauling ours.

Leaving this behind is hard....

Luckily we have a deadline to meet and cannot stay longer. We need to meet a friend of my brother's 'Mona Lisa' who is volunteering at an orphanage - 'Nuestros Hermanos Pequenos' (Our Little Brothers) close to Antigua. We have to deliver her bank cards which have been following her from Germany, via my brother's house in Kansas City. It's been in transit for nearly 2 months and it's good to see German banks are almost as useless as the ones in the UK. We catch up with her on her day off.

Milk Shakes – Guatemala style....

Big grins by Sue, me and Mona Lisa....

Thrown in at the deep end, she starts 10 straight shifts of 12 to 14 hours the following morning looking after pre-school age orphans in what promises to be a challenging and rewarding year ahead. It's made all the more tricky by her lack of Spanish which she is rapidly trying to learn. Good luck Mona Lisa – a brave move and it was nice meeting you.

Then follows 7 days I would rather forget as the local bugs test out my immune system gone soft after 4 months back in Blighty. My head fills with lead and my face and body aches as my nasal passages turn to stone. I am Mr Mucus!

Now I am not known for my stoicism in the face of illness, and Sue is not known for her nursing skills, so we slowly learn to despise each other as our hotel walls close in on us. We set the world record for least number of miles cycled in the first month of a cycle tour....

It cannot last – and finally, just like Lazarus before me, I miraculously rise from my death bed in a display of heroic fortitude....

Well, actually Sue tells me she's sick of my moaning, to stop malingering and kicking and screaming she throws me out of my death bed.

Finally – the tour can begin again.

WE RIDE.....

In Hot Water

September 10th to........

A new road is being built heading west along the north shore of Lake Itzabal. 25 miles or so along it is the jungle waterfall 'Aguas Calientes' or 'Hot Waters'. It's a perfect day for riding through the green, though we head out early to beat the intense heat....

It doesn't take us long to find the end of the asphalt and catch up with the construction crew....

All the roads we have ridden in Mexico and Guatemala that are being built or maintained remain resolutely open. Unlike England where they are often closed or coned off, here it's business as usual and you just weave in and out of the heavy equipment, keeping an eye out for the swinging booms of the earth movers.... health and safety is done differently here.

After 20 hot and dusty miles, we reach a cross roads and a track that heads down to the lake and another little slice of paradise. We rent a lake front cabin and take a swim to cool off and wash away the dust and sweat from the road....

Just over the other side of the main road is another track leading to a river hike to the waterfall and we set out early the next day....

This is what we came for. Above the river is a geothermal spring where the water emerges, bubbling up between the dense undergrowth before cascading 12m (40ft) down a rock face. Heavily mineralised, it has turned the formerly black rock to a rich beige colour over the slow millennia. At it's source the stream is almost too hot to touch, but by the time it flows into the river below it is just comfortably hot. It's an amazing feeling to be swimming in a cold river and to be pelted by a hot shower from above....

There are rock ledges you can perch on and tiny caves to sit in and be pummeled from above. It's like a hot water back massage - one of those high pressure sprays you find in expensive spa hotels. Here's it's absolutely free and the natural setting blows any spa hotel away, however much you pay. We slowly cook like lobsters in the heat, before returning to the river to cool off. It's a bizarre feeling to be in hot and cold water at the same time and we stay long enough to turn pink and wrinkly.

Riding back towards Rio Dulce there are ominous portents on the road as carrion birds line up in formation...

And shortly afterwards the road falls to pieces....

In Rio Dulce, we buy tickets for a coach ride back to Antigua. Sue's elderly father has not been well recently and she has been feeling increasingly guilty on the tour at being away and misses him terribly. Her mother and sister have been ceaseless in their care for him but it is becoming more and more difficult for them and she is keen to help out. She has decided to return home early to see him and has booked a flight out of Guatemala City. We take a bus back to nearby Antigua where we have friends who can store her bike.

I will be going home to see her and family as well, but first I am returning to San Pedro, before going to visit my brother and his family in America.

Unfortunately this does mean that this tour is coming to an end, but it is becoming an ongoing story written in chapters. This is the end of chapter 2 and chapter 3 will begin in January when Sue and I plan to return to Guatemala, reunite with our bicis and carry on the adventure for hopefully another 12 months. We intend to carry on riding south through the rest of Central America and on into South America at least as far as Lake Titicaca where I ended Chapter One some 14 months ago. This completes the chain for me all the way from Vancouver to Ushuaia at the Southern tip of Argentina.

Plans never go totally smoothly though as demonstrated by a tyre blowout on the coach ride back, solved here not by an Automobile Association style rescue, but by limping along on the shredded tyre to a roadside repair station where they replace the damaged rubber with their least worn replacement from the pile.....

Sue, ever relaxed in these situations finds time for a little snooze and misses all the excitement....

After hitting a traffic queue and waiting 3 hours for an accident to be cleared, we miss our connecting bus in Guatemala City and are resigning ourself to a night there when the office manager of the bus station personally offers to drive us on a private shuttle bus. It's a 3 hour round trip going out of his way to help us and he won't get back until well after midnight, so big, big thanks to him.

Plans often go awry and we may or may not be heading to Titicaca in January, but in life something generally crops up to surprise you at the last minute and we will have to wait and see.

I may write more on this blog occasionally between now and the next time we ride out in January, so please check for updates.

Otherwise many thanks for traveling with us thus far - it's been a fabulous adventure so far and thanks for all the comments and emails wishing us well and offering kind words of support - they are really appreciated, especially on the days when the going gets tough.

Adios amigos for now.....

Until January....

Martin and Sue

Guatemalan Getaway

September 7th to 10th

Returning to Guatemala, the boats are met at the Livingston docks by local Garifuna 'guides'. You can practically see them lining up the passengers and assigning themselves to their targets like marksmen homing in on their prey. Normally we would just walk on by, but Cesar, a larger than life character with a gold plated smile to match is hard to resist. We know there will be money involved, but it's probably worth it for the entertainment as he rattles through his spiel and helps us through the immigration system. He then shows us to 'The Hotel Africa' which would have been a sight to see in days gone by - rooms are huge and outside there are hanging stairways and arched courtyards.....

It's all set in beautiful flower gardens, but is starting to look a bit threadbare round the edges now....

Cesar then proceeds to give me the tour of the town, explaining how the system works and about keeping the money amongst friends and away from the Gautemaltecos. He points out all the best restaurants - best commission for him or best food - I'm not sure, but we do try 'Tapado' a rich stew of coconut milk, plantain (similar to banana, but less sweet) coriander and snapper fish. It's one of the tastiest meals I've ever had and Cesar Joins invites himself in for a beer. Money eventually makes him go away and he melts back into the crowds around the docks looking for new friends.

Livingston is unusual in that it is like a little island of a town completely cut off from the rest of Guatemala by the jungle. There are no roads leading in or out and the only access is by boat. It's remote and just a little bit edgy so far from civilisation and you need to keep your wits about you; Cesar is not the only one looking for ready cash. It's also a staging post for the drug trafficking business as boats make deliveries up and down the coast and inland on the vast river network running inland.

It's also a staging post for river tours up the Rio Dulce along a narrow canyon. We ride down to the docks, find a boat captain, load the bikes aboard and set out in search of a road....

It's a nice ride up the canyon, but nothing like the scale of The Sumidero Gorge in Mexico. The air is filled with bird calls and massive herons flap their languorous way between perches. Jungle vines tumble the valley sides which are covered in Bromeliads - tropical flowering plants and there is a hot spring to stop at and swim.

Our boat captain has fish on his mind though.

There are a number of Mayan fishermen plying their trade in dug out canoes and we make frequent stops to examine the quantity and the quality of the day's catch. Some bring their entire family along - I guess child care is hard to find in the jungle....

After several purchases I get curious and apparently his wife runs a restaurant while he runs tourists up river past the endless lily fields....

Eventually the river gorge widens out as we reach El Golfete, the first and smallest of the river's 2 lakes. Pelicans compete with the Mayan fishermen for the day's feed whilst ancient fishing boats slowly fall into ruin....

Eventually we reach the town of Rio Dulce, just as the river widens again, this time on to the vast Lago de Izabal - Guatamala's largest lake at around 230 square miles. We dock under a huge road bridge - Central Americas longest apparently....

Rio Dulce just looks horrible as we ride out from the boat docks. The main road is choked with vendors of a thousand different kinds all noisily shouting to attract their customer's attention. The bridge pours a never ending stream of traffic into this congested chaos and horns blare as both engines and drivers overheat. It's just mayhem as we try to formulate a plan of action in this seething maelstrom.

A quick U-turn and we are looking for another boat; our fourth in three days - this time to a jungle hideaway we've heard about a couple of miles up river. We bump into Uli, a Belgian motorcyclists we met in Semuc Champey who is now traveling with his girlfriend Mareka. We decide to share a boat....

It really is a jungle hideaway - wooden huts reached on boardwalks above the swamp and this is the view from the hammock and it's just wonderful....

It's run by Jonatan, a Swiss expat, about as far away from a European mountain village as it's possible to get and there's a cozy restaurant and common area with candles in the evening. It's slightly odd being served Italian spagetti, by a Swiss waiter listening to English music in a Guatemalan swamp with a Belgian couple.....

There are boats you can borrow and we paddle back to the lake for swimming and sunning on the pontoon....

There's a big American community here now lured south by cheap property and good sailing. Much of the lake is surrounded by boat mooring in this sheltered spot far enough up river to be beyond hurricane damage. I can see why they might be interested in this small slice of the good life....

Tikal - Capital of the Mayan World

Tikal

August 26th and 27th

The first thing you notice on entering Tikal is that the jungle is back.

Outside this protected area, much of the vegetation has been cleared to make way for cattle grazing or for firewood, whereas here it’s a much older more natural environment. The road is a claustrophobic strip of grey in the green and the air is filled with insects noises and the deep throated roars of unseen howler monkeys.

Beware of..… I don’t really know what??



There are more familiar warnings though - snakes, puma, deer and…. turkey? They have killer turkey here?

Debating whether to set a watch to counter the turkey peril, we pitch our tents for $5 and buy our entrance tickets. These can be used to enter the site after 4pm and again for the whole of the following day.

Do Not Feed The Croc - oooowwww and I brought cheese sandwiches for him as well....

Late afternoon we head for temple 4 which is the highest spot in Tikal at over 60m (200 feet). It's a good place to get our bearings and to watch the sunset. The jungle is hot and sweaty and a constant haze rises above the tree canopy in front of the imaginatively named temples 1, 2 and 5….



It a huge site that covered some 30 sq km at the height of it’s power around 400AD and was home to an estimated 100,000 people. However Tikal’s history stretches back way further than that to around 700BC when this area became settled due to it’s slightly elevated position above the surrounding swamp land, and the abundance of flint which was of military importance. Tikal enjoyed a position of supremacy due to the use of flint tipped spears which could be thrown in battle whilst surrounding tribes could only fight at close quarters using hand held weapons.

The site waned around 900AD for reasons still shrouded in mystery and these great buildings slowly faded back into the jungle until they were rediscovered in 1848.

Can you imagine machete-ing through miles of dense jungle and coming across these majestic old ruins….



We are offered the chance to ‘sneak’ in 2 hours before the official opening time the next morning to see the dawn for ‘just’ $30 each. We discover it’s hardly ‘sneaking in’ after every single park ranger offers us the same deal, in prices ranging all the way down to $20 dollars, then 100 Quetzales and finally 50Q - about $6.

We return at 6am when the park opens and the site is just about empty.

Tikal is obviously about the Mayans and the ancient buildings, but it’s also unique in it’s jungle setting which means the wildlife is incredible - especially early in the morning when the tree canopy awakes with a million hungry mouths all looking for a hearty breakfast.

The hubbub of squawks and screeches fills the air and we see Toucans with their brightly coloured bills….



Bizarre peacocks, their face and head covered in bright orange swellings like tic-tacs….



And a trio of parrots….



In ‘The Lost World’ section of the site, a troupe of spider monkeys sets off on an aerial roadway across the tree canopy high above the jungle floor. Apparently they always follow set, tried and tested routes where they know branches will support their weight. In one place, the gap between 2 trees is just too great and they can be see shinnying down a tree trunk before cautiously crossing the ground in between - a rare sight….



Sue is transfixed for nearly an hour, all thoughts of the temple ruins behind her forgotten as a family of about 10 monkeys cavort, play and strip the fruit from a tree above….



Breakfast over, they retrace their steps, and that gap that was too wide is re-crossed in more spectacular style. Using their weight to set the branches of one tree swaying, they time their jumps to bridge the huge gap 40 feet above us in a single great leap….



The temples are stunning in the morning sunlight. This is Temple 1 ‘The Temple of the Grand Jaguar’ in the Gran Plaza.….



At one time you were allowed to climb it‘s great stair, that is until a couple of people fell to their deaths. Now there is are steep and rickety wooden staircase at the sides of a couple of the other temples that can be climbed for incredible views.

The central section of the site has been totally cleared and the buildings partly restored. A huge grassy area sits between this great temple and it’s mirror image - temple 2 as they face off against each other.

This ‘Northern Acropolis’ is believed to contain the oldest buildings in Tikal. Anna gazes in awe back across 2500 years of history towards the Gran Plaza and Temple 2….



In the Southern Acropolis stands the 58m high Temple 5 which can again be climbed up this near vertical wooden ladder….



The view north from the top shows the natural setting that makes Tikal so special….



Ali considers the fastest way of getting back down to ground level…..



Aaaarrrrrggggghhhhh.....

Aaaarrrrrggggghhhhh TARANTULA……



Sometimes you’ve wanted to go somewhere for so long, and you have so many images of what that place will be like when you finally get there that it can only be a disappointment. Surely it can’t live up to expectations.

Tikal is not that place!

Tikal made an impression on me in a way that Palenque and even Monte Alban did not. Don’t get me wrong, Palenque is incredible and the sheer scale of Monte Alban and it’s impenetrable hilltop location are really special, but they are both quiet places to visit. At Tikal there is a cacophony of noise from countless parrots, monkeys, frogs and insects and the air is alive. It has a completely different atmosphere that cannot be conveyed in words and pictures, and to spend a night here under canvas is a special experience.

There’s nothing to compare with hiking down a jungle trail and coming out into a clearing and seeing ruined stone walls submitting to the unyielding vegetable intent of a giant tree root. It just has that unique tingle of excitement from discovering a truly lost world coupled with the ever present sense of immense time….



No, Tikal does not disappoint….

It just tantalises - for it is but a glimpse.

Sue always laments the non-invention of a time machine at places such as these. Tikal tantalises as there is just so much that is unknown about this place. How did the people really live? What were the buildings used for? Were there really human sacrifices? And the biggest question of all - the enduring mystery of the city‘s abandonment.

The time has now come for me to return to the lab and invent that time machine…..