I

Having now bicycled La Ruta Maya we speculate that the obvious reason the Indians left has been overlooked – they got tired of doing the hills. Imagine a series of mountains shaped like Machu Pichu and you get a picture of what the terrain is like.

Ruins at Palenque

Our group ranged in age from late twenties to seventy. Riding strength did not diminish with age! This was not a commercial tourbut was organized by Richard, our semi-retired biking companion with a knack for finding great bike trips. We split the cost of a van and driver, and a travel agent (ATC out of San Cristobel) made our hotel reservations. ATC found us a great driver, Pedro, and put a lot of effort into making our trip work well. The route was taken from a book called Bicycling Mexico.

Our trip started in Palenque, one of the most beautiful and magical Mayan ruins that exist. A group of Indians still worship here by night. Because they have tried to preserve their culture and not marry outside their village, they are in danger of dying out. By day they sell souvenirs to the tourists and live in poverty. A sad legacy of the most sophisticated civilization of its time, but typical of this part of Mexico. Palenque is surrounded by jungle that threatens to take over the 33 structures that have been excavated. You can practically see it growing while you watch. Swarms of workerswith machetes spend their days cutting back the verdant growth.

Growing up Cowboy

We shuttled from Palenque to Agua Azul - a gorgeous park of waterfalls. Some crash from great heights while other flow over rounded stones without a splash. Right from the start of our ride we got a good taste of what was to come. There were only two choices of terrain: straight up and straight down. Only two gears were needed. Our first day, from Agua Azul to Ocosingo was only 35 miles.In that time we had a 2000-foot descent, followed by a 4000-foot climb, and another 1000-foot descent. The countryside was spectacular with jungle on all sides and a small road that worked its way up and through the valleys. As our cycling companion Richard says, these are "quality miles."

In Ocosingo we witnessed with amazement what was to become a daily event for one of our group members, Don a.k.a. the Eating Machine. Immediately at the end of the ride, Don would head for a restaurant and order a huge meal. After consuming his first meal, or sometimes, in the midst of consuming his first meal, he would order a second meal. This usually took place around three in the afternoon. Following a shower and a stroll around the town, we would meet for dinner whereupon Don would eat his third large meal in as many hours.

Fruit Stand

The second day the expression "quality miles" took on new meaning as we cycled 60 miles from Ocosingo to San Cristobel de las Casas. We gained 6000 feetof elevation in the first 30 miles and 2900 more feet in the next 30 before a 1000-foot descent into town. Each switch back required its own power bar. Most of our group decided to call it quits after three straight hours in the lowest gear, and flagged the van.

When friends

Over a Pass

heard that we were planning to cycle in Mexico, the first reaction was: the drivers are crazy over there! In fact, the roads were narrow and winding with no shoulder, but the traffic was very light except around major towns. Drivers tend to limit their speed based only on the limitations of their vehicles, but they were pretty aware of bicycles and generally gave us plenty of room. Things only got interesting when two buses wanted to pass each other at the

A Typical Bus

point where we were riding.

San Cristobel is a beautiful colonial city set in a valley surrounded by mountains. We had a lay-about day here. There are a number of small Indian towns outside of San Cristobel; each known for its own unique weaving. The techniques, materials, colors and patterns of each village are distinctive. Those of us with mountain bikes (about half the group) rode there, but the dirt roads weren't conducive to touring bikes, so some of us hopped the van.

Weaver using a back loom

Our van driver introduced us to his personal friends in one of the villages so we were fortunate to visit a family home and watch the women weaving using backstrap looms in their mud brick house.

It was forbidden to take photos in some of the villages, especially of religious practices and dress. Some Mayans believe that when you take a photo of them, you take away part of their soul. Other villagers would let you take a photo, but only for a price. Children especially would demand a peso or two in exchange for taking their photos. At 7 cents to the peso it was a bargain.

Girl Catching Butterflies

In San Cristobel we encountered our first large, noisy market. Generally speaking good old market principles go by the wayside in Mexican markets. As we bargained over the price of textiles,we tried to employ the typical American approach to getting a bargain: a volume discount. We very quickly realized that the older women could not do division in their heads and became confused about the per unit cost that was being offered. Their young daughters could sometimes bail them out, but not always. Although many of the vendors had huge inventories, they were often not interested in selling in bulk if it meant a lower price.

Prices are erratic at best. One day the first offered price is accepted, while the next day the same vendor will absolutely refuse to sell for the previous day?s price. Often, as we walked away, not having gotten the price we wanted, vendors would follow us for blocks calling out "for you, good price", and continually lowering the price until it was less than what we originally offered.

Selling Fruit

Generally bargaining resulted in a price around a fourth of the original asking price, but sometimes resulted in a price higher than the starting price. It appeared to depend on what you were wearing, the time of day, and perhaps the weather. What was made perfectly clear is that we were amateurs, while these people were professionals at bargaining.

From San Cristobel we rode 55 miles to Comitan, which is about the same size but much more modern. We were greeted by firecrackers, processions, a rock concert in the old plaza, and a fair, all in celebration of the Day of the Virgin de Guadalupe. There are about two weeks of pre-celebration leading up to the actual day, which is December 12.

Riding out of San Cristobel

From this point on we spent many nights being awakened by firecrackers. We never did find out why they were set off all night long, and who did the honors.

In Comitan one member of group decided to leave the trip for personal reasons, but left his bike behind. We respectfully left the bike untouched for the first day of his absence. By the second day it was noted that his tires were superior to someone else?s and they were appropriated. The rims followed a day later, then by the seat and finally various gears. By the end of the trip, most parts were gone but the frame. Having a whole bike of spare parts was quite a luxury.

From Comitan we rode to La Mesilla, the border town between Mexico and Guatemala. This was a trueborder town. The place was grimy, with only dirt roads. A few menwearing black hats, jeans and cowboy boots wandered around showing large amounts of cash and acting as the local currency exchange.

Hanging around at the Guatemala Border

As always, the exchange rate depended entirely on your bargaining skills. The whole atmosphere made you want to keep both hands on your wallet. One of our group, our dear writer of this article, should have done precisely that. Leaving a bag unattended on the bicycle for around 30 seconds resulted in the loss of cash, passport, and credit cards. Only the help of very friendly border guards, who stamped a photocopy of the passport and supplied a letter, helped us get through the country and back into the US.

Taking a break in a local shop

Here was a marked difference between Mexico and Guatemala. Although the landscape remained very similar, the degree of poverty in Guatemala was much greater. 3x years of civil war have taken their toll. Life in this country looked very harsh. Unlike Mexico, we were often greeted with blank stares when we rode through some poorer sections of the country.

We thought that we would find the same goods for sale throughout the trip, this turned out not to be true. There were local textiles and crafts that we only saw in specific towns, and we wished we had purchased things as we saw them, rather than assuming we would see them again.

Todos Santos Dress

The next day we followed a river valley the entire 50 miles to Huehuetenango, which turned out to be an ugly, industrial town. Apparently, everyone keeps their money in Huehue (pronounced way-way) because there is a bank on every corner. The guards outside the banks have their fingers on the trigger of a sawed off shotgun.

We had planned to take the van the following day to visit Todos Santos, a remote village in the mountains that encircle Huehue. Unfortunately we neglected to explain to our van driver that we wished to go to Todos Santos the remote village, a two and a half hour drive away, rather than Todos Santos the church in the middle of the plaza that was fifteen minutes from the hotel. Consequently we set off for the village with insufficient gas, over rough dirt roads. We traveled up a few steep passes through rural farms until we were precariously close to being out of gas. We found a small village with a local villager willing to sell us some gas and were able to make it to Todos Santos.

Selling weavings at the market

This was one of the highlights of the trip. The town is set in the mountains with a panoramic view for miles.The men wear red striped

woven pants and the women wear a unique type of huipilles (blouses) that are very colorful. We hiked around the town and saw many women weaving and men working on the roads or farming. The hills were filled with corn and wheat, all of which are planted and harvested by manual labor. There were few if any machines to be seen. After a glorious few hours there it was time to head back.

Only a few kilometers out of town it became clear that the local gas we purchased had water in it. The van broke down twice? A few people had thrown their bikes in the van and they took off on bicycles. A few others waved a truck down and found themselves riding high on a truckload of broccoli, back to town. For some reason after than we all have trouble finishing broccoli at dinner.

A Local rider

We rode 55 miles from Hue hue to Quezeltenango, a lovely city with an active town plaza.An earthquake destroyed the old church in 1902, but the facade was preserved and a new church was built behind it. This city is the second largest after Guatemala City with 100,000 inhabitants.

The next town was Panjachel, located on a volcanic lake. The road down to the lake was steep enough to keep you rolling at 35 mph while pulling hard on the breaks and negotiating some amazing hairpin turns. Although it is a tourist town, it is lovely. We took a boat ride across the lake to town called Santiago. Little girls who introduced themselves with names like Barbara and Karen (muy espanol) and took us to see Maximillian immediately met us. This

A Local Bus in Todos Santos

was our introduction to some of the pagen-christian religion here. Maximillian was a priest who was overly fond of whiskey, cigars, and women. He was de-frocked, but shortly after that, the Spanish clergy were evicted from Guatemala. The result is a very odd mix of pagan and Christian beliefs. Maximillian became the local demi-god, who is honored with offerings of whisky, and by blowing smoke in his face.

Inside a pagen-Christian church

Riding out of Panjachel was so steep that a few of us did not have low enough gearing to avoid walking up some of the hills despite triple chain rings. A fog rolled in and we had no visibility as we climbed to Chichicastenango. By the end of the day, we were riding very steep terrain in 40 degrees, rain and fog. Keeping the breaks dry and the body warm took some doing. The market in Chichi seemed otherworldly in the fog that rolled in that day. A combination of bright colors and cold, cloudy weather was quite a contrast from our previous experience.

The final day of riding provided nice weather, but as we approached Guatemala City, the roads became quite hazardous. Overloaded busses routinely passed each other, taking all of the road and then some. Several times, the only option was to ride off the road to get out of the way. Several of our group had the right idea when they rode the last 20 miles in the van.

Riding the hills of Guatemala

Our trip ended in Antique, a beautiful town about 70 kilometers from Guatemala City and a world apart. One night a spectacular pink and orange sunset provided a dramatic background for the silhouette of the steaming volcano.

© 2000 Charles River Wheelmen, Inc. All rights reserved. Revised: Monday, August 28, 2000