Morning came too early today. I’m not sure which was worse, listening to the obese hillbillies argue in their slow southern accent, or being kept awake all night from the sounds of the fighting dogs. Perhaps the dogs know they are at the border and are fiercely fighting for territory with the Guatemalan dogs. Escalating beyond the regular concerto of barking, we were treated to full on battles with yelps of desperation. The night seemed to go on for every, yet was far too short. But alas, when the morning did come, we walked across the street to the immigration office and received our passport stamping and proceeded towards Guatemala.
Monday appears to be market day in most of Guatemala, with throngs of tiny indigenous people clogging the sides of the streets. These people are not as cautious of cars as their northern Mexican brethren, so negotiating the tight cobblestone streets is ever so challenging. We paid 7 dollars US to have a man with a moustache fumigate the outside of our car. Then we moved on to the immigration office and received our passports for 40 Quetzales, or 8 dollars for both of us. Bargain. The last phase was the third building over, where we presented all of our documentation for the car, paid another small fee, and were on our way. All of this in a mere 30 minutes, faster than ordering a pizza.
There was a blurb on the lonely planet website, the company that produces the most popular guidebooks, talking about driving into Guatemala with your own vehicle. It states that the mountain of paperwork required and bureaucracy is enough to deter all but the most determined. These people must have never received student loans before, because it was easier than going through Canadian customs.
Once we passed through the busy streets of the border town, we were sailing along the Pan-American highway with nary a speed bump in sight. At last, I thought, it is only the Mexicans that have a perversion towards trying to launch your car into the air at every possible opportunity. However, my speed bump free roads were oh so temporary, and soon we were slowing, hopping, and scraping our way through the streets. The roads were in very good condition compared to Mexico, and suffered from far less traffic. It would appear that the people here are much poorer than in Mexico, with lots of indigenous looking Mayans walking along the streets at an average height of just over 4 feet I would say.
While the condition of the roads was good, the towering mountains squeezing in on each side would make for very difficult passing conditions. We could stand to use about 200 more horsepower, as every one of our 1800 cubic centimetres were pushed to the limit today and then some. A red and white chicken bus roars onto the street in front of us leaving behind a thick fog of pungent black smoke. A quick glance to the right shows no oncoming traffic in the brief stretch of visible road ahead. I make the commitment by down shifting into second gear and the four cylinders scream under the hood as we blast through the opaque smoke screen, darting to the left of the bus. We gain beside the bus as the blind corner ahead looms, but the engine is beginning to reach its peak. With a lightning quick clutch I shift into third and keep the accelerator jammed through the floorboards. Another truck appears around the corner from up ahead and we manage to dart back in front of the chicken bus just in time. Your heart recedes back from your throat and slows to a quickened but manageable pace. You are alert, alive, and ready for the same scenario that will happen dozens of times more before the day is through.
I think to drive here you have to be just a little bit crazy or you will end up that way. Driving here is like how all the people that enjoy driving would drive if they were allowed to drive however they want. Don’t worry about lanes, there aren’t any, don’t worry about speed limits, just the coefficient of friction, don’t worry about signalling, just flow where you want like water. It reminds me of those movies we would watch at Calaway Park with the big screen and everyone sitting on the floor before the advent of IMAX. The screen would fill your entire field of vision, making it feel as though you were inside the movie. The camera would be attached to the front of a fast car, close to the ground for the added effect of increased speed, and the car would race through the windy steep streets of some European village, just ever so close to disaster at every corner. Well it’s a lot like that, only real.
We received some reprieve from the hectic passing as we continue on as the highway grows into a miraculous 4 divided lanes. Climbing ever higher, the steep precipitous peaks have now transformed into gentle sloping mounds, covered in a patchwork quilt of various agriculture mixed with bushes, shrubs, and pine trees with foot long needles. We roar along with ease, passing all the big trucks and chicken buses that gave us trouble before. Our search today leads us to Antigua, a small city nestled between three volcanoes, just outside of the capitol city of Guatemala, aptly named Guatemala City. They should think of changing the name of Antigua to Shangri-La, because apparently it only appears for a select few, and after three hours of searching for a city apparently only 18km away, I was beginning to believe it did not exist at all.
We turned off at the sign for Antigua and rolled along a nice paved road for quite awhile, climbing into the hills. Then without warning, the pavement ended at the crest of a hill, and we continued on much too fast along a potholed gravel roadway. We climbed and climbed as the road grew narrower and narrower. I would say it had the width of the Mt. Swansea shuttle road in Invermere, but not quite as rough. Finally we peaked high within the clouds, with a view limited to a hundred meters at best, and began our long descent. I would guess we descended for about 2 km vertically if you were to relate it to the shuttle road at Mt. 7 in Golden. After close to 2 hours of driving we turned around and headed back from whence we came, albeit at a much quicker pace.
Back on the main road to Guatemala City, we had all but given up on finding Antigua when we encountered another sign. Not wanting to drive into the big city looking for a place to stay at night, we gave it one more chance. If anyone plans on driving through Central America, I would advise bringing very detailed maps of every country, because the maps on the guidebooks are essentially useless beyond knowing where big cities are and using the bus system where drivers actually know where they’re going to. There are hardly any signs for the places you are looking for. My favourite experience has to be the detours when road work is going on. They don’t tell you how to get back to the road you were on, and it’s definitely not easy. Anyway, there is no sign for Antigua. Just drive for 18km and turn at the sign that says Ciudad Viejo, drive through it and you will arrive in Antigua.
We’re staying here for two nights, and have already spent a little bit of time walking around the streets. There are a lot of old buildings, and the whole city has a European feel to it. We’ll see more tomorrow. Our hotel is nice, cheap, and clean at only 45 Quetzales each per night, or about 9 dollars. With a shared bathroom and kitchen, it’s all you could really ask for. It’s quite cool here in the highlands. We dropped to a low of 13 on the drive today. I would like to know how high we were driving today to reach that temperature, as I’m sure it’s higher than I’ve ever even hiked before. Anyways, after two nights here, it’s on to Honduras to visit the ruins at Copan. Supposedly they’re some of the best there are out there, so I’m looking forward to it.
Tyler.
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