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Old 05-13-2013, 09:11 PM   #97
swamp OP
U lie&yo'breff stank
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Joined: Feb 2007
Location: lower appalachia, Alabama
Oddometer: 1,895
Wink mexistan and central bunghole

Saturday April 13th 2013
Morelos Mexico to El Remate/Tikal/Lago Peten Itza

At 4:00 I was down in the alleyway behind the hotel fumbling with the flash light and luggage lashing pre-flight where is this, where is that.

The plan for today was basically a three step program to success: ride to Tikal as fast as possible then, drink alcoholic beverages, bum a few cigarettes off someone then eat food until I passed out.

I’ll try to describe the ride to the Belize border in as little words as possible now.

Dark n’early

Wind seeping in past my goggles drying out my left eyeball

Raining a little

That town that guy told me not to stop in

Raining more ((“im not stopping to put on my rain gear, it’ll quit))

Rain doesn’t quit


Two guys with rifles tell me to go the other way

Belize Border

Exiting Mexico and Entering Belize
The only other people at the border were a backpacker hippie couple with acorns and what appeared to be McDonalds straw wrappers clumped into their dreadlocks. “are you guys having problems?”, “blah blah waiting to extending our visas”.

Box with person inside. Give important things to it. Person inside stamps my passport then hands everything back to me. Person behind desk. Give important things to it. Oh cool you take dollars.

Go to bike. “The Gate Keeper” inspects all of the important things that I’ve collected.
The man says yes so I head over to buy the mandatory insurance policy.
Ride until low on gas. Ride until low on gas again. Arrive at Belize / Guatemala Border

Welcome to Belize

Belize/ Guatemala border

Unlike the Mexico / Belize border, this one is pretty busy. A guy with a wad of money points and tells me to park. He and I set down on a curb. He speaks good English. I ask him what the exchange rate is he tells me 6 quetzals to one dollar. I say “how bout seven? “ . He tells me “Ok I can do this”. So I give him 60 bucks and he gives me a wad of money back. “Are you giving me a good rate ? Because I’m about to check.” I had written down some exchange rates down in my notebook that I had pulled off the internet before I left home. I had 8.05 quetzals to 1 dollar. Good enough for me. I give him 100 and he gives me a bigger wad of money.

Somehow I got all turned around inside this building. I basically exited Belize then went to the other side of the building, the opposite direction because that is where some lady behind a desk pointed then got stamped back into Belize then I got confused and asked for help from a person behind a desk who looked at my passport and told me I had to go back and get stamped out again. . then go to the Guatemalan side. Really.

Entering Guatemala was a pain in the ass for me.
I’m sorry, but if you are Guatemalan; Yo’ shit be fucked up.

First off I go to “the gate keeper”. I don’t have enough important things to show him yet so he points at a few large lines.

I stand in one line until a lady behind a desk, who obviously has no incentive to “perform” has to take the time out of her day to look at my pile of paper. she is preoccupied with talking to one of her co-workers about something entertaining. She looks at me then points to the guy sitting to her right; also behind the large desk (Its like an airport ticket counter style desk). ((“hmm ok I must have gone to the wrong line, ill go stand in this line to talk to the guy she just pointed at”)).

Eventually I work my way up to the point where I am next-in-line. The problem is that there is this old guy in front of me who is no shit, attempting to read every tiny word on every single document WITH A GIANT , FUCKING, MAGNIFYING GLASS. I don’t think this guy can even read. I think he is just trying to look the part.

The customs official or whoever the hell this guy is behind the desk doesn’t even attempt to help the old man. He just sits there talking to his buddy the security guard. A few minutes pass and the old man gives up and walks away. I put the important things on the table. The guy gives me a “fuck off” look and points to THE LADY WHO POINTED AT HIM! ((“son of a bitch .. are they screwing with me ? what the hell ? “))

No shit I stand in the lady’s line again… She points to the other guy again! At this point I get pissed off and blurt out something like “hey what the hell is going on? You keep pointing to him and he keeps pointing at you. Are you fucking with me or what? I don’t understand what I am supposed to do”. She hands the papers over to the guy, I cross under the little rope, “line-row divider” thingy. I fill out a bunch of papers then he says “copies” and motions with his finger “out that way somewhere”.

There is a little building that houses the photocopy extortion business. I walk in, lay everything out and tell the guy I need 3 copies of everything front and back. The photocopy engineer then walks over to the machine which is covered by an emerald blanket. He removes the blanket as though he was about to reveal the Arch of the Covenant or an ultra-secret doorway to the enchanted land of Narnia.

Back to standing in line for the guy behind the desk. I now have to go to the bank office.

Pay tax at bank office.

Stand in line again for the same guy.

Bike has to be inspected. Checks VIN and Tag. Good.

Back to “The Gate Keeper” to show him all my new important things.

Enter Guatemala.
Scenery begins to change rapidly.

I stop to talk with an older guy (maybe 65 or 70 years old )on a KLR who had ridden down from Canada. He told me that he made it down to El Salvador where he saw a murder and a lethal car crash. He’d had a clutch cable snap and his bike was dying so he had decided to return home.

I’m feeling great at this point, the roads are fun and my rear tire seems like its going to hold up this time. I ride as fast as I can towards Tikal trying to make up some of the time I had lost screwing around in Morelos.

Tikal is located in what I would call a “national park” area. A fee is required to enter. There is a nice, scenic road that leads up to a parking area. From there visitors need to hike up to the ruins. A sign explains that it’s a 20-30 minute walk to the site. I park the bike and ditch my enduro boots for my flip flops. It only takes me 15 minutes to walk up the dirt road to where all the old stuff is.

This is where Ancient Mayans made tortillas

After having his many slaves construct this awesome set of stairs, The Ancient Maya Lord of Lightning and Fire carved two stone tablets upon which were written the Ten Commandments. 400 years later, a barefooted Jewish guy swindled the tablets away from the Mayans then transported them to the desert where he made everyone believe that he was God simply because his beard was fuller than everyone else’s. Later, George Bush found the tablets in the bottom of a meteor crater at his ranch in Texas. He would later use them to construct the Panama Canal. So basically, Tikal is the center of the Universe.

Stairs to the Center of the Universe

raccoon that has never been fed dog food or hot dogs

I walked around the temples for thirty minutes before I became bored with it. I’ve never really been a big Maya enthusiast however; Cortes and Alvarado were tough SOBs, the Incas were awesome; but the Mayas .. meh.. I’d rather drink beer.

There is a small town at the base of the mountain on the Eastern side of Lago Peten Itza. After riding back and for the through the town twice I settled on this place (I have no idea what the name of it is).

My plan for the day was nearly complete. All I had left to do was: drink alcohol, eat food, bum cigarettes of someone then pass out. So that is what I did.

Margarita x 2

Beer x 5


..and more food (I actually had 2 orders of these nachos). I was so damn hungry.

Later a ½ Korean ½ Caucazoid lady and her tool box from England joined me for beers and lies. They both smoked cigarettes which is really turned out well for me.. as I was able to bum a few off them. The couple told me of another rider from Alabama that they had met. He had ridden an old KLR down here to die; his name was Mike. In my head I thought ((“I wonder if they are talking about Rat Bike Mike??”)). Turns out they were. I sat there laughing inside about how small the world is and how I could picture Mike’s horrid, bush of grey hairs protruding from his ear-holes. Then the Sun set everything on fire and the day was over.


Enduro Earth

off the grid and deep in the woods
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