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…..

To Tikal

August 25th and 26th

There are 2 roads from Flores to Tikal. One is shorter and goes inland, the other loops round the lake and is half paved and half dirt. With Anna and Ali now back to full riding strength I manage to convince the team to take the dirt road expecting spectacular views out over the lake. In doing so I overturn a 3 to 1 vote against.

We brave mad bulls en route - this one escaped from a local farm and is being herded by a kid on a bike who shows little fear as he narrowly avoids being trampled. It’s clearly enjoying it’s new found freedom and leads a merry dance as it terrorises us and dodges it’s would be captor.

El Matador - Guatemalan style…..



We skirt the west side of Lago Petzen Itza and it’s a more tranquil scene as cormorants dry their wings in the early morning sun…..



The north side of the lake is unpaved and the road once again falls to pieces….



The going begins to get tougher as we hit yet another series of impossibly steep climbs followed by cautious descents as we pick our way down through the rocks and stones….



It’s hot and humid and the amazing lake views I promised the team never quite materialise, it’s actually quite a dull ride. Anna and Ali are finding it tough going after their strength sapping ordeal in Flores and Sue spits her dummy out and vows to never ride an unpaved road again as she struggles up yet another ascent. I am in danger of losing my position as most popular team member - it’s all my fault apparently.

We finally make El Ramate, just 55kms distant in a gruelling 6 hours arriving just after midday with the sun at it’s fiercest. It’s incredibly hot on the jungle plain and the insects are becoming a constant annoyance.

We find accommodation in rustic palapa style huts directly on the lake and suddenly the day’s not too bad when we look at the view of the lake, which is a perfect temperature for swimming…..



El Ramate is the lesser known twin to Flores and it’s where we would have stayed had we known. Flores is a purpose built tourist town, with an entire island taken over by more upmarket hotels and restaurants with the ever present tour operators and ‘artisans‘. It’s more the kind of place your mother would like; comfortable, clean and just a bit bland.

El Ramate, by contrast is much more low key. The accommodation is more rustic cabin than modern hotel and it all looks a bit more natural, built into the jungle, rather than concreted on top of it….



It’s a lot more relaxed and closer to nature, I’m not sure if my mum could put up with the wild life though…..



Next day, with the team fully recuperated and talking to me again, we head out towards our next destination - Tikal, the daddy of all Mayan ruins.

It’s an unusual start to a day’s ride - we’ve come to expect clear skies and big views in the morning. Today, however visibility is near zero and the air is cold in the gloom as grey fog envelopes us and our world shrinks. It does add a sense of mystery though, like passing through a veil as we step back several centuries in time to a lost Mayan world….



It’s only a short ride but an exiting one to another one of those trip defining destinations, one of the few that you actually planned before leaving home and hopefully, it’s going to be one of the highlights of the tour. Tikal is a ‘must see’ and it’s a place that has always conjured up images in the mind - of ancient civilisations, of the jungle slowly encroaching and reclaiming the land, great temples and all. Of a lost city rediscovered and slowly unearthed - it’s mysteries still intact. We are going to camp at this incredible place and I can’t wait to finally get there.

Tikal…..



Flores

August 18th to 25th

Another truck.

I hate getting rides, but there was a consensus in the group that the ride down to Semuc Champey would be one way. I suppose that, given it took 3 hours to cover the 7 miles between Lanquin and Semuc, added to the worse road and huge 12 mile climb from Lanquin up to the main road, it would probably take 2 days.

We travel in style....

Honestly there's plenty of room in there for four bikes, gear and people.

So much room in fact, that we actually picked up 3 more people with gear on route.

It's a bruising, uncomfortable journey as we bounce and roll up the uneven rocky surface, but I suppose it beats riding.

The road after 'Fray Bartolome' does not really improve, but at least the gradients are manageable as we ride through hot sticky, lowland jungle....

It's a slippery, bone shaker for 20 miles or so....

Passing by some incredible limestone rock formations. It looks like the ancient remains of a giant game of marbles, discarded playthings slowly being reclaimed by the relentless vegetation....

And finally we hit the paved stuff again as the road angles north, heat hazed and shimmering it stretches to a distant horizon....

Massive 'Ceiba' trees hint at the ancient forest that would have covered this entire plain. Now there are only tiny patches left - remote island habitations for the howler monkeys we hear bellowing and roaring amongst the branches. We are lucky enough to catch a glimpse of a mother and her baby right by the roadside....

This is the devastated land that remains today.....

Generations of slash and burn, plus a more recent clearance policy to turn this into grazing land has totally denuded the forest. Now this is cattle country, but it all looks so fragile as bony, listless cows bake in the heat; their ribs cutting a washboard pattern under thin stretched skin. People are forced to walk further and further in search of firewood and the temperature is dramatically higher outside of the shady protection of the trees. Now the woods are gone I wonder how it will all look if there is a year or two of reduced rains. There is nothing to hold the valuable moisture in the soil and all safety margins are gone.....

We stop for lunch in a small village and unbeknown to us, word has got out - we've been spotted. They come in one and twos at first, then threes and fours, then all at once. Before we know it we're surrounded....

Local children, curious about the bikes and the gringos empty the local school as the teachers give chase across the field - they come happy and smiling from all directions, some with bare feet, some in raggedy clothing. Some are just happy to examine the bikes, and the white faces, others are more bold and demand money. All are curious about the language - their English is rudimentary and they are keen to hear and pick up new words. En masse they repeat words they snatch from our conversations. I tell Anna it's looks like becoming a bit of a mob and they repeat, beginning to chant mob mob mob mob MOB MOB MOB MOB....

We ride away laughing, the road entirely blocked to traffic by the crowd.

We manage 125kms (80 miles) for the day before stopping at 'Sayaxche', a dismal dangerous looking town on the banks of the Rio de la Pasion. The naming of the river seems to have inspired an unusually large number of brothels to set up (knocking) shop here. Faces of questionable beauty, smeared primary colour bright, pout and whisper as I pass.

I pass....

We plan a boat trip up-river to the local Mayan ruin of 'Ceibal', famed for it's carvings and remote jungle setting, but the dreaded lurgy strikes at Ali and he goes down with stomach pains. Maybe that month in Holland gave his system time enough to forget it's immunity to Guatemalan bugs.

Sayaxche is not a place to stay and recover so he bravely decides to ride the next day.

We await the river boat for the short crossing.....

It is a bit of wait as well as the boat meanders agonisingly slowly against the feeble river. Looking closer reveals the problem - under two palm leaved 'palapas' are the engines - two tiny outboard motors manned on rotating outriggers. It sounds like a wasp in a bottle as several tons of boat and cargo slowly zig and zag at the mercy of the swirling current.

While we wait, the smell of fried chicken from a nearby food cart is too much for Ali and he loses his breakfast within 3 feet of it, much to the vendors distaste - not good for business I guess.

Anna negotiates a ride with a truck driver on the boat as Ali wobbles on rubber legs and we load their stuff.

Sue and I ride a hot, flat and dull 60 miles through a featureless wilderness of deforestation. We reunite in 'Flores', an island town on Lake Peten Izta. Ali is in a bad way and generously shares his ailments with a not too grateful Anna. Over the course of the next 4 days he and Anna take it in turns to spend time in the bathroom and make howler monkey sounds..... Not pleasant.

Sue and I are forced to relax on our balcony and enjoy the ever changing mood of the lake.

Blazing thunder and lightning with storm force winds....

To mellow sunsets - Lake Liquid Gold....

Laquin and Semuc Champey

August 15th to 17th

The caves at Lanquin are a huge disappointment!

Not only is the footing treacherous in the extreme, every step a search for grip on rock made slick by jungle humidity and mud, but the rock formations are pathetic! Truly pathetic! I'm getting used to cave trips that 'stretch the imagination' in looking for signature formations, but Lanquin is just taking the Michael. The lighting is also incredibly bad and a girl in front of me walks straight into a stalactite, her head making the kind of dull 'thud' that turns my stomach. It's sounds like a watermelon hitting the pavement after being dropped from a second story window closely followed by groaning and cursing. I don't think she enjoyed the caves either!

If the caves are rubbish (and they really, really are) the wildlife display as the sun sets is different. It is right at the opposite end of the spectrum and is spectacular in the extreme.

Bats! Millions and millions of bats, their appetites voracious after a day spent snoozing, all wake simultaneously. Fortunately not blood sucking vampires, but insect eaters ready for an evening's hunt in mosquito infested skies above the river.

The echo location sonars burst into live and the sound of high pitch clicks and squeaks fills the air right at the topmost frequency of hearing. At first there are just hundreds circling the cave. They each wait for the hungriest and the boldest to leave and be devoured by the birds of prey waiting just beyond the cave's mouth. Then there are thousands.... and tens of thousands, and it's almost the shear weight of numbers that crowd the closest out of the door.

The sky above the river turns black as bats swirl, dive and bomb in a confused black ball of seething numbers. It helps to confuse the hawks as they attack the bat ball and draw first blood. Then hunger overcomes fear and the bats start to streak down river like tendrils of black smoke. Back inside the cave, a strobe light of camera flashes reveals uncountable winged shapes frozen in motion, their images burned onto retinas against a dark background.

It's a unnerving sensation as small fury wings and bodies occasionally brush past, unseen in the dark. Your ears feel a strange kind of numbness as you almost, but don't actually hear the cacophony of noise from the echo location. It lasts maybe an hour and Sue and Anna see a similarly less spectacular show from our camp down river as the bats bank and whirl chasing their prey.....

Some spectacle!

11 kms south of Lanquin lies Semuc Champey, described in the guide as being an 'out of the way', 'difficult to reach' destination. That's by 4 wheel drive pick up truck - we have bicis....

The road is just ridiculous.....

The gradients and lose stone are enough to see Sue walking on some of the downhills, let alone the ups....

On top of that the temperature and humidity have risen alarmingly now we have dropped to around 500m above sea level and the climbs are vertical. It's a tough, tough ride - those 11 kms (7 miles) taking over 3 hours....

As always in Guatemala though, there are views to compensate....

And the destination is more than worth the effort.

Semuc Champey means 'underground river' in Mayan, a name given after a huge chunk of the mountain fell down the side of the canyon and covered a section of the 'Cahabon' river. I say covered because the rock fell in such a way that a 300m long plate landed and formed a bridge over the flowing water. Now that bridge is covered by a series of emerald and sapphire pools separated by tranquil little waterfalls. A hike up a steep jungle trail reaches a viewpoint high above.....

Down below, it's a magical place to swim; calm and serene whilst a mighty river boils, tormented and trapped beneath us. At the head and tail of the bridge the river is a maelstrom of white water as it is forced under this rock shelf. Above, all is placid as we bob in the cooling pools....

It's a beautiful jungle oasis....

Camp is once again by the riverside....

Where we encounter all manner of insect, grown disproportionally large in the intense heat and humidity....

Dragonflies look like bi-planes, butterflies are like carrier bags flapping in the breeze and the grasshoppers are big enough to steal traffic cones....

There's yet another cave tour here to 'Las Marias Cuevas', but this one is slightly different. A hike up river takes you to a rope swing, swinging 30 feet above the river. That's just to get us in the mood and to get the adrenaline flowing. Next comes a bare foot journey along an underground river known for flash floods. In places the river runs over head height and you are forced to swim in the dark, the cavern ceiling pressing lower and lower. This is all done by candlelight - you carry the candles as you swim and climb a series of rickety ladders. It culminates in a blind traverse through a freezing waterfall.

Injuries include bruised and swollen ankles from kicking underground rocks while swimming, a bashed head or two and just a few cuts and grazes. I've mentioned Guatemalan safety standards before - it's based mainly of the survival of the fittest principles of life and it's really good fun! Boots, lights and helmets are just for wimps....

The tour ends with a relaxing float back down river on giant inner tubes through the vibrant jungle rain forest. It a door to door service back to our tents on the riverbank.

Coban to Lanquin

August 13th to 15th

We roll into Coban mid morning on weary legs after a short ride from our unscheduled stop in San Christobal. The ride is just enough to get the legs moving again after being annihilated by yesterday's climb past the landslide.

We stock up on calories in a wonderful traditional 'comedor' doing local soups and stews before hitting the 'panaderia' or bakery. Coban is famous for it's cakes and pastries and it would be rude not to investigate. Never one to shirk my duty, I undertake an extensive research project, unselfishly taking samples of everything the shop has to offer.

After much retesting under controlled conditions I can finally conclude there is merit in the claim of excellence. It's all fantastic! Coban is top of the list of fine places to stuff your face silly! The chocolate is good too....

The town is a real mixture of affluent living for some and a day to day subsistence grind for others. The land surrounding it is awash with coffee and cardamom plantations providing great wealth to the few owners. By contrast in the town there is pavement market where women come to sell produce from their smallholdings....

Raggedy people in bare feet carry bundles on their heads. Others wait patiently behind pitifully small piles of fruit or flowers - all they have to sell....

A little girl chomps on an apple whilst waiting for her mother to buy tomatoes.

The dignity and stoicism of the people is beautifully captured in this incredible portrait taken (with permission) by Anna....

We visit the other half on a tour of 'Finca Santa Margarita'; a coffee plantation based right in the town centre. This is what it's all about....

Beans ripen and turn a deep red in late August/September and can be eaten off the bush, the fruit being sweet and juicy.

Panama hats are de rigueur headgear for coffee sampling. I know it looks a bit cheesy, but Sue is just too busy comparing different beans to care....

This is where the cash is, beans harvested and separated from their fruit ready for roasting....

The quality is world class and there's a thriving and profitable export market. Local campesinos also come here to sell raw product for roasting, but markets are complicated and dominated by middle men and marketeers. There is a strong feeling in the villages that too much of the cash stays near the final stages of the production chain, much of it outside of Guatemala....

We leave coffee politics behind and head out the next day towards our next destination 'Lanquin'. The area between marks an end to the Western Highlands and the moderate climbs are becoming enjoyably social. We have breath to spare for chatter as we ride....

It's work as usual for the locals. The daily commute by bicycle, complete with chain saw....

Gathering fire wood - Mayan style....

There are huge views to the south to distant green mountains covered with mogul fields, grassy hummocks repeating smaller and smaller off into the far distance. A final ridge line angles away east, gradually losing height as it marches off to join up with the 'Sierra de Santa Cruz'. We are heading for that track down the side of the ridge - the line that angles back on itself and falls into the valley below.

We drop a 1000m on a treacherous rocky path. You kind of grab brake when you can and slide the back wheel crashing and bumping over uneven stone. The nicest thing I can say about the ride is that it's 'technical'. The nicest thing I can say about the scenery however, is that it's incredible - that's the path snaking down the hill....

Lanquin is a tiny village with a cave system to explore. An underground river surfaces from the caverns, the water heavy with minerals that turn it a smoky turquoise colour. There's a space to camp right by the cave entrance, but more importantly right on the river bank. We pitch camp and test out the cool blue waters from this natural diving board.....

Nice!