Night Riders to El Mirador

Yum Bo'otik to good friends, Marilyn Barnes, Erik Christiansen, Gaye Greenwald and Mike Reed, for passing along

        The plan was to get a group of people with Mayanist interests together for a trip to El Mirador and Nakbé. I mentioned it at a couple of Pre-Columbian Society meetings at the University of Penn Museum and there were some positive responses.
        At one of the meetings, two members suggested instead leaving before the New Year, which was something I had not thought of. This sounded good, in that we would able to be at El Mirador to see 2006 come in.
        Although those two PCS members did not go, two others, Niles Lewandowski and Gaye Greenwald, did. A good friend from my earlier Mirador trip, Mike Reed, surprised me only a little with wanting to return on this one as well. A New Zealander, Erik Christiansen, who was amiable and had been helpful to me with information elsewhere, was also looking forward to a return to El Mirador in the company of other Mayanists. This roster took a while to come up with, but it had the looks of a great group when it did and I was right.
        When I was initially planning the trip, it occurred to me that I did not know of many sources in the Flores/Carmelita area that include transport to and from Carmelita. I contacted Henry Alexander Sanchez, who does these trips, includes transportation and who has e-mail.
        Presumably because of the date and having to pay people extra to be away for a holiday, Henry wanted a deposit, but my bank would have charged me $40 for just a $200 transfer to his bank. Instead, I used Emoneygram.com to transfer money out of my account to him, to be picked up at any Banrural bank location in Guatemala. This worked quite well and only cost $10 for that transfer. As we got to four members, we sent an additional deposit, but Henry was not concerned about more of a deposit after that. It must have been obvious to him that we were serious.
        Once we had gotten to what seemed like and turned out to be an ideal private group of the six already mentioned and were getting closer to the departure date, I got word from Erik, who was already in Flores, that Henry was planning to add two more to what had always been a private group. I eventually dissuaded him, but it left somewhat of a sour taste.
        Niles, Gaye and I traveled on the same flight together to Guatemala City on the 28th of December, although we were well separated and on a full flight. We stayed at the Xamanek Hostel is in the Zona Viva, and which had a taxi driver waiting for us at the airport. Having three of us along qualified us for a free shuttle from the airport. The driver even waited while we had to go to the TACA ticket office and get our tickets for the flight the next morning.

        Staying in that area meant that we could go out at night and do things, but mostly we headed out for beer and wine. Usually I just think of hostels as being a good backup plan, but this one is great and made me certain that I would spend my last few days in Guatemala there.
        We flew on to Flores on the morning of the 29th. Erik was already there and Mike and Marilyn would fly in the morning of the 30th.
        Niles and Gaye wanted to see Tikal again, but I had things I wanted to do in Flores, so they headed off after we got rooms in the Hotel Mirador del Lago. It turned out to be a simple matter for them to arrange a van to Tikal from the hotel, but I was going to get phone numbers and information for my website, so we had a brief parting.
        It was a pleasant morning, wandering around Flores and getting information. Eventually I was coming back to the hotel, when this fellow asked if I was Dwayne. I admitted as much, and jumped to the logical response, “You must be Erik."
        Indeed, it was Erik. He is an easy going, intelligent fellow and he was about to hike over to Santa Elena. There was something there that I also needed, so we headed off. He and I both separated to do some small tasks and shortly met again for a beer at a local restaurant. This was the early beginning of a pleasant evening.
        At some point back in Flores, we bumped into Henry, who was to be our guide, and later that night, the four of us who were there and Henry sat around drinking beer and talking.
        I met Mike and Marilyn at the airport the next morning and we rode back into town. Mike had met me and two others in the Guatemala City airport on the first Mirador trip, so I wanted to return the favor.
        I should have made it clearer to the others that it is not a good idea to take much along on a Mirador trek, where everything is carried by a few mules. As it was, two members showed up with a far too much baggage. After trying to pick through the belongings, they both agreed to pay for extra mules to carry the load, though I suspect that between the two of them, only one more mule was needed.
        A man in a four wheel drive pickup truck came to get us, so we piled into the back and were on our way to Carmelita to begin the trek. Although I wondered at the wisdom of using that instead of a van, when we got to some serious mud holes along the way, the truck made a lot of sense. And, unlike the previous trip, there were no flat tires.
        Arriving in Carmelita, we stopped at a house where we got to see the mules we would ride and to await Henry’s reappearance from inside the abode. After he eventually came out with some sandwiches he had made, we were ready to

leave.

        Neither Mike nor I were quite happy with the whole line of riding mules being connected by one rope as we rode along, but we withheld judgment. After it got dark, though, the long rope looked like a better and better idea.
        We were all riding along very nicely when old Juan, our guide/cook, decided to turn right into a smaller and much worse looking path, which turned out to head toward Nakbé instead of El Mirador. Henry, who was his son, told him that it was a bad trail, but Juan led onward and we all followed. It turned out that he had mistakenly told the arrieros to take the gear toward Nakbé, so we needed to catch them and then head to El Tintal.
        This turn meant that we were on our way to La Florida, which we only expected to see on the way back from Nakbé. There we were able to get the arrieros on the right path and we were all onto a path back toward El Tintal. Paths diverge from Carmelita, going to both places, making an acute triangle that at its furthest distance is 3 1/2 hours apart. Being this close to the start, the whole detour probably was probably not huge, but it was messy.
         During this time, Mike was feeling poorly and even fell off his horse a few times. I recall wondering how well I would be doing in his situation and I was hoping for the best. It turned out that the next day I had that same mule and saddle and I found that it had a tendency to come loose. However, because I was feeling all right, I could sense when it was too

loose, and I could jump off and even call for assistance if the trail was to muddy for me to want to walk it. Mike had had no such luck.
         The path between La Florida and El Tintal is less used than most and was in bad shape, and at some point after we turned off from La Florida to Tintal, the sun went down. Well before dark, Henry polled everyone as to availability of flashlights. He had two and so did Erik. Although I was doubtful, I looked in my fanny pack and found one as well. Perhaps, it was the subconscious at work, but whenever I have been on any sort of Maya trip without having a flashlight handy, I seem to have needed one.
        As it got darker and darker, it became more and more eerie to see the see dark shapes and flashes of lights ahead and behind in the forest. To ride properly in the darkness, you have to hold a regular flashlight in one hand and reins and pommel in the other. It was this and other incidents on this trip that made me appreciate the idea of using a flashlight that a person can wear on the head.
         The path was horrible and blocked on two occasions by mud and water that was too deep for the mules to walk in, much less for our sole hiker, Erik. So in the darkness, one guide or the other would seek out an alternative route.
         If I had had just a little more energy, I could have kissed the ground when we finally made it to El Tintal. As it was, we eventually trudged in and that evening is mostly a blur. Due to my memories of edifices shaking every time someone would get up from a hammock in the night, I had brought a simple and expendable pup tent that I paid very little for at a yard sale back home. Fortunately it was simple enough that putting it up in the dark with the occasional use of a flashlight was easy. With this operator's tendency to sling the hammocks between solid trees, I soon stopped using the tent.
        Once we were in camp, I went to apologize to the others, but they had found the night ride or hike to be more of an adventure than a travail. We all were impressed at the respect shown by son to father in not contradicting old Juan's decision to change trails. Plus, there was no way we could really be sure that the other path did not deteriorate horribly right after we got off it.
        Early the next day, we headed out for El Mirador. During this ride, Gaye’s mule fell and she ended up with a largish puncture wound on her buttock, but she was otherwise doing fine and in no pain. Mike had been deathly ill during the night ride and arose shakily, but he

managed to recover before we had made final arrangements for a small party at El Tintal to take him back.
As we started on, we kidded Henry about all of us having flashlights handy for when we were still out on the trail when it got dark. We did have time to pause and look over a small complex of El Mirador called La Muerta, which was named after a cook who worked for chicleros, but who died and was buried there.

We did make it to the site in time to get set up and to hike to the top of El Tigre in time for

sundown. We had cold and excellent Yeungling beer to sip while watching what was a much better sunset this trip. It was New Year's Eve and we had other cold beers, including a Moza I had brought along to savor. Although I had always firmly believed that I would get back to the top of El Tigre before Mike, it seemed only fair that we would both come up at the same time. That is exactly what happened.
However, after seven hours on the trail to get there, there was no way we were going to make it to midnight. I was probably the very first to fall asleep.
I believe that it was after breakfast the next morning that we gathered and Marilyn was holding and discussing a reddish Mamom pottery sherd. Not to be outdone, I picked up a piece of what was obviously broken blue and white plastic and held it up, exclaiming that it was Chicanel, which is another Pre-Classic type of pottery. There was some laughter, but I was surprised that the arrieros were among those joining in, perhaps, suggesting that they have hobbies or interests we were unaware of.

Then we toured El Mirador, seeing Los Monos, the Acropolis and especially Structure 34, where so much work has gone on.

During the day we also hiked the couple of kilometers to the Danta Complex. It was great to be able to see it without being in a rush to move along the trail, like we did on the previous trip. Then we had seen Nakbé first, and had visited it fairly quickly along the way to El Mirador.

         Mike had also pointed out to me that one of the guards, Juan Carlos, had been there on our previous trip, so it was like being with an old friend. The two guards from Nakbé had hiked over to spend New Year's Eve with them too, and apparently they made it to midnight, but without any liquor.
        The guards are very helpful and it is customary to tip them. I gave them some packaged ham, Mike gave them a small bottle of aguardiente the next day and we all contributed cash. However, we could have done a lot better.
        A note to others doing this trip, the best tip anyone could give them is whiskey, even that Guatemalan rotgut version, Old Friend. Quetzales or dollars are mostly meaningless way out in a jungle.

      There had been some work done since we were there before, so it was good to see the site again. During this visit we were able to "shower" twice, once at El Mirador and later at Nakbé. The rainy season was almost on its way out, but we had access to water in plastic lined catchments that we could use to lather up and pour water on ourselves and wash clothes. It was wonderful. I even washed some underwear.
        The next day, we headed toward Nakbé. Though much of the journey is over the ancient causeway, enough of it goes into bajos to be annoying if it is anywhere close to the rainy season. Hearsay indicates that archaeologist Richard Hansen envisions a day when the way will all be on the causeway. I can only hope so.
        There has been enough work done there to make Nakbé seem almost more photogenic than Mirador. Some of our

group even preferred it. There did seem to be more evidence of Classic habitation along with the Pre-Classic there as well. In addition to buildings, we saw a good number of flint and jade axes that were being kept there.

Although my cheapish digital camera stopped working after El Mirador, I later discovered it was because my second memory card was no longer working or even holding any of the photos I had taken of Nakbé. Although I have a good number of pictures on my main memory card from the ruins, there are not as many as I had planned on.

We left Nakbé after seeing another part of it the next morning and meeting our mules along the way. I noticed that this segment appeared to have had someone who had come through with a chainsaw to improve

things along the trail. We trekked along and went through two spread out ruins, Güiro and Ramonal. The ruins of Wakná were not very far (“diez minutos”) off the trail, so we had earlier prevailed on Henry to swing by there. I do think that someone going this route should arrange ahead of time to make sure to see those particular ruins, because it does take some extra effort on the part of the people

assisting the trip.

By this time, a good number of us had been bitten on our lower legs by small bugs of some sort. Those who had not used any Permethrin to spray on their clothes had the worst bites. I had sprayed my lower pants, so I only had the bites under the part of my stockings that were above my boots. However, Gaye had even sprayed her sox, so she had no such bites at all.
We spent the night at La Florida and visited the ruin there in full daylight. Then we headed off toward Carmelita. It is not far, so we arrived in good time, but waited for lunch to be served. A few of us headed out to the comedor to see how cold the drinks are. Being very thirsty, I started with an orange crush, but then went on to a cold beer or two.

There was talk of putting together tips for the whole crew, but I was in favor of tips to the arrieros, but against giving Henry a tip. Basically, he was a tour operator, who set the prices and hired the crew. I give tips to underlings for good service, but not the boss, and not especially for him to dole out. .

           Eventually we were back in the pickup truck and on our way to Flores. Henry said we should see the view of the lake from San José, but I specifically stated that I did not want to, and that we needed to get back to Flores. However, when we got to the junction where one can either turn toward Flores or San José, we headed away from Flores. It was a nice view, but the detour was mostly so that Henry could pick up some items in town.
         We got back into Flores to find that our reservations were cancelled by the Hotel Petén, because of our tardiness in returning after 3 pm. The woman at the desk was helpful and called the Hotel Santana to make sure that there were rooms there. There were, and she sent us onward. I ended up with a balcony room with a great view of the lake, from which I gazed at part of the sunset. As splurge debacles go, this turned out rather well.
         The next morning we split up. Mike and Marilyn were flying to their respective homes and Erik was moving back to the Hotel Mirador de la Isla before flying to Guatemala City the next day.
        Niles, Gaye and I headed off on a bus to Chisec with a plan to see the ruins of Cancuén. My original idea was to head to Raxrujá to arrange a trip to those ruins, but a fellow I bumped into who was with a local organization to get tourism started in Chisec assured me that I could easily arrange a trip there.
        As our bus eventually passed the turn off to Raxrujá and the kilometers kept growing, I began to suspect that I was also seeing my chances of getting to Cancuén receding. It turned out that we could indeed arrange a trip to Cancuén, but it would also have to include a cave and it would be a needlessly full day trip.

Chisec is a nice enough town. However, any idea of it becoming a tourism hub lies somewhere down the road.

        We headed onward, with me already planning a return, but where this time I would see Cancuén properly. We stopped overnight in Cobán. There it seemed to be raining or threatening to rain all the time. These were not empty threats, either.
        We gladly returned to Guatemala City and stayed again at the now pleasantly familiar Xamanek Hostel. We quickly headed to the archaeological museum by cab. I should mention that in all my visits to Guatemala, I had never visited any museums in Guatemala City, just some dull ones in Antigua, so I was very much remiss. Although it is true that the displays at the archaeological museum tell very little about what is there, it was a treat to finally see such a wonderful array. We also bumped into Erik, who had been wanting to see it too. It was a short reunion, because he had a full day and not much time. Because the Museum of Modern Art is right across the way and did not cost extra, the three of us we went there as well.
        Much later in the day we went out for dinner to a delightful Basque restaurant that was down the street from Xamanek, called Txoko. Niles and Gaye went onward to Antigua the next morning. Ana Cristina, the manager at the hostel arranged a cab ride for them for $20, which compares favorably with them paying for the cab ride and another $20 for the airport shuttle to Antigua.
        I found myself in Guatemala City with a few days, a few plans and a few books, which is a great combination anywhere. Being at the Xamanek Hostel in the Zona Viva gave me the sense of an idyllic time that I would not have expected. I bought some items at the local supermercado, so that I would only eat out if I wanted to. Except for a couple of visits to the local Pollo Campero, and despite my finding of an inexpensive restaurant within two blocks, I did not eat away outside the hostel.

        Because Niles and a couple other guests had left a bit of beer behind in the refrigerator, I had to do something with that. In some ways it was a rough time, but one does what one must.
        The next day I went to the Popul Vuh and Ixchél Museums. I was feeling a bit “off my feed,” so I skipped starting out the day with what had been just a possible meeting with Niles and Gaye in Antigua at 10 am. Instead I just hiked to the museums. Ana Cristina had given me good instructions, so that I got there and back easily enough.
        The Museo Popul Vuh is smaller than the one I saw the previous day, but the descriptions were much better. Again it was a treat to be among so many Maya artifacts and I will go back.
        My appreciation of fabrics and clothing design is not something most people would remark favorably upon, but I was right there and I was not about to miss the Ixchél Museum. Others would likely take longer in seeing the exhibits than I did, but I found it interesting enough. Oddly, it was only as I was walking away, when I looked back that I noticed that the brickwork pattern of the Ixchél building shows the very concept of weaving itself.
        The day after, I rode to the Mercado Central by bus for presents to take home to my long suffering wife. I headed back to the hostel and eventually got caught up on e-mail. Between the market, reading and a short siesta, it was a pleasant day.
         On my final day, Ana Cristina arranged the cab ride, but could not be there for my 12 noon cab departure, so she gave me the 40 Quetzales that is the standard cab fee that the hostel has been able to arrange. It turned out that the cab had a meter, so, being that close to the airport, I just paid the 25Q minimum that it came up with.
        If I needed an excuse for returning to the Xamanek Hostel, it would be that I owe them some money. However, I don’t need any excuses. I am going back anyway. I still haven't seen the Museo Miraflores, the Cathedral or the Palacio Nacional. I also imagine that some serious work has been done at Kaminaljuyú since I was there a good number of years ago.

"Late Classic small temple in Grupo Codex at Nakbé. This small Late Classic elite enclave at Nakbé produced some of the finest ceramic works of art found in the Maya areas".

-Mike Reed

Rear of Late Classic temple in Grupo Codex at Nakbé. Wooden scaffolding is protecting this fragile wall for restoration work which will begin spring 2006. - Mike Reed

Middle Pre-Classic apron molding from Nakbé elite residence showing what may be the earliest example of ancient Maya apron molding (overhanging around the base of a building).

-Mike Reed