Guatemala Trip

to Uaxactún, El Peru/Waká, Cancuén and Kaminaljuyú 

February 15 - 26, 2007

Skip to bottom for my account of ordeals both ways with US Airways

        After some difficulty, I finally made it to Guate City and a friend, Steve Ballor, was waiting as planned. He called out my name as I was exiting the building, which was under renovations and had no good meeting place. We got a taxi to the Autobuses del Norte (ADN) office, where I wanted to see first hand how the service there was.  The cabbies seemed dubious when I said I wanted to go on a luxury bus there, but we got one to take us there. The ADN website that proclaimed having "the only real luxury buses" on the Guate-Flores route had not been updated since they had dropped temporarily that service, but I did not know that then. Even if I had, I probably would have wanted to see what it was like to go on an overnighter on a bus that was of a lesser sort.

      The ADN ticket agent was kind enough to let us leave our packs behind the counter and we spent some time exploring a bit of Zone 1. We visited the Mercado Central and wandered the streets, and it was time for our 8 PM departure sooner than I expected.

      The bus we left on had been a first class one in better times and if there had been televisions, they were long gone. My seat was comfortable enough, but Steve later mentioned that his was not, and that the window by him rattled. Not having a television blaring was a plus, but it was annoying when the driver would stop maybe twice in the night for no apparent reason and then turn on the lights. There was also a security stop where soldiers came in and had some of the passengers come out of the bus briefly, but they were relatively unobtrusive about it.

      I took 2 Benadryl tablets early, used ear plugs and managed to get some decent sleep punctuated by an occasional short interruption until the bus broke down shortly after 3:00 AM. The driver and his assistant then would work noisily for a while and one would stomp back in to get yet another heavy tool from the tool box inside the bus. My fall back position was to start hitchhiking at dawn, but they managed to almost get it started. Then at 4:30, the assistant came in and said something that I didn't quite catch through my earplugs, but when most of the other male passengers filed out, I joined them. We all pushed the bus just enough to get the engine started and then we were off again toward Santa Elena. 

      Using my wide awake hindsight, on arrival I now would have gone over to another company in that same bus station and seen when the next bus to Tikal was. Instead, we got a cab to take us to the Hotel San Juan agency to get on the next shuttle there. This was leaving at 7:00, so we had time to kill in this unfriendly office.  Had we merely stayed at the station, we would have easily made the 6:30 bus and maybe even the one a half hour earlier. There are a decent number all morning and the two in the afternoon continue to Uaxactún. Normally when arriving a first class or better bus, there are van drivers offering rides to Tikal away, but there were none for this broken down one.  Since then, ADN has gotten a new fleet of buses, so this was soon to change.

      Steve was the only person I have ever known who had made it  to El Mirador, but not to Tikal, so it was time to change this situation.  It always seems like there is always some new reconstruction work going on there, so I never mind a revisit. It's kind of like seeing an old friend again to see how things are going.  Steve and I rode into the site and left our packs at the Visitors Center for 1 Quetzal an hour each. Then we headed to the Acropolis, then Temple IV and wandered around for quite a bit, even getting turned around a little until we eventually went back for lunch.

       Steve did surprise me by the improvement in his use of Spanish since I had last seen him and it was great not having to translate.  Apparently, private Spanish schools can make a difference.

      Earlier I had gotten a report that the comedor Imperio Maya there now had a filthy washroom and its food had caused two travelers to become ill from eating the chicken. The washroom looked fine with me, and Steve also checked it and agreed. So I ordered pollo a la plancha, which was well cooked and quite tasty and came as usual with frijoles, rice and two cooked vegetables as "salad". It was still good pretty food and I did not get sick from it.  

      The first bus to Uaxactún arrives in Tikal from Santa Elena around 3 PM and is of the chicken bus variety.  Once it got closer to time, we waited for it at the guard building right by the entry gate where one shows a ticket to get in. Even after stopping at Tikal, it was still nearly full, but we both did eventually get seats in back. My seat came from the kindness of one of the male students. Although I suggested that I was happy enough leaning against a sack in back, he insisted that I take his nearby seat. It was nice to sit down.

      It was hard to see what the bus was doing even then way in back, but it was clearly having a rough go for much of the time and the driver was earning whatever the company paid him and then some. At one point, children riding on the other side of the bus all started looking up in the trees at what they described as a lion, but from our vantage point, we could see nothing.

       On arrival in Uaxactún, it was unclear to me where Campamento El Chiclero was, which was where we planned to stay. It turned out that the best approach was to get off at the comedor and and to follow the road uphill along the old airfield to it.  It is a basic place, but it is a friendly one and the food we had there was very good.  We later also got in to see the local museum on its grounds, which has a large number of Maya ceramics.

      We quickly left our packs and ordered supper before heading out to see some of the site while it was still daylight. We headed up the hill toward the cemetery and turned left at the proper juncture before it and were quickly there. Uaxactún has a good number of well proportioned standing walls and it is always a joy to pretty much have the place without crowds of any sort. I suspect that after seeing this part, we could have made it to the other portion, but having wandered through Tikal and knowing that food would be awaiting us made me brush it from my mind.

      It was Friday night in Uaxactún and a pleasant supper, we wandered around and explored the town. The old cantina where I had had a beer or two after visiting the ruins in times before was long gone. A group of French travelers was eating and drinking at the comedor, but they did not seem to welcome company.  We did have a beer there and we followed instructions from some unknown local to a "cantina,"  but what we found looked nothing like one. The biggest excitement was the eventual boisterous music from the church.

       I got a pretty good night's sleep. However, Steve said he did not have enough blankets in his room.  I should add that the weather had been unusually cold, so normally he would have been okay.

      The first of two morning buses leaves Uaxactún at 6 AM, so we got up early enough for that and were off.  The part from Uaxactún to Tikal has much of it in the park itself and the rest is mostly jungle anyway, so by getting a good seat either in front or beside a window gives a good view of the jungle going by. I was very pleased and looked at Steve to comment on this. However, he was asleep, so I did not interrupt him.

      I can imagine someone seeing Tikal and all of Uaxactún and doing it over two days by spending both nights cheaply in Uaxactún and seeing half of that site on both late afternoons.  Then on the third day, the person could take the bus straight back to Santa Elena, presuming that he or she had seen enough of Tikal.  Or a person could also just spend the one night at Uaxactún and head back after the second day at Tikal without seeing the rest of the local site.

      In Flores, Steve and I took rooms at the Hotel Santana. We also looked up Henry Sanchez and paid him the remainder that we owed for the trip the next day to the ruins at El Peru. Although it hadn't been part of the plan, we decided to meet the third member of the group when his flight in the Flores airport landed. Known as a large man, Greg Vandiver was easy to spot as he came out.

      We had a mostly pleasant evening in Flores. After a long slow wait for eventual dinner at El Peche, which is a place you are likely to see and should avoid as you enter Flores, we all drank a few beers elsewhere. I also got a good night's sleep and none of us were too cold that night. Henry Sanchez visited Greg and collected his share for the trip, so we were all set to go the next morning.

      Henry was unable to go with us further than Paso Caballos, where the boat takes people onward. However, he had arranged for an amiable bilingual fellow, Alex, to go as guide instead.  We also had use of an ice chest, into which I had placed a good number of beers along with the food.

      The normal trip to El Peru/Waká is three days and two nights, which with hindsight, seems a bit long for what is there. Once the three of us had earlier realized that we all liked to fish, we planned to take the opportunity to plan to catch some.

      I had brought a hand line and the other two came with telescoping rods and reels and we trolled on the way toward the ruin. Based on what I saw on this trip, I am sure that had we each brought a few mid-sized Rapala lures or caught live bait of a similar size then, we too would have caught fish. I also suspect that a smallish live bait wriggling a foot below a small bobber would probably have done well too.

       Instead it was those around us who caught the fish. We did have a net, but with it we could not catch bait fish small enough to be popular with our intended prey. I did have a go with both live and cut bait to no avail. 

       The first night we camped at the riverbank and also fished a bit. There were soldiers who were based nearby at the entrance to the ruins. When off duty, they would play, relax and fish at the river bank, sometimes using the dugout canoes there.  They would dry their catch, apparently for some sort of fish soup that added to their rations. We saw some nice fish caught while we were in the area, but none of them were ours.  "It's called fishing, not catching," as the saying goes.

      The dugouts were awfully top heavy. It was hard to enjoy anything, including fishing in one, if anyone else was in it, because of the need to always balance carefully. In fact, this was the very thought of hooking a big fish was frightening, and that is not a feeling that I want to repeat soon.  I was definitely glad to get back to shore.

      The Río San Pedro has a very small "nacimiento" or headwater area back at Paso Caballos. In fact, its beginning is closer to being a large trickle than the headwater of  good sized river. Thus, there is not much current and one could argue that this river is more like a very long lake, especially  near its beginning.   Based on this, when Alex suggested that it was all the muck on the bottom that kept local fishermen from using sinkers, I got rid of mine and found that I could still cast a good distance with my hand line and bait. 

      Although the normal place to stay is at the entrance to the site, we had a nice evening at the riverbank. We drank happily into the night and finished off the beer.  I would comment that although Alex later claimed that it was the Maya Ik' hot sauce I brought that messed him up for the next morning, it was more likely the Venado aguardiente bottle he drank that did it to him.

      The next morning, we broke camp and headed to the ruin site. It is around a half hour walk to the entrance, and it is where people normally camp while seeing the site.  That is also where the army contingent of 22 men stays and all the park staff is there as well.  There is a large kitchen area that makes the ones at other jungle Maya sites I have stayed at look small. 

     One of the rangers took us on a tour of the Waká.  When we got to the first option to go to the mirador, it was a serious uphill climb, so we put it off for later, when the two of us most interested would go there.  Heading in, we went through the site and it was obvious that highly skilled craftsmen had cleanly cut off the glyphs from most of the stelae to sell them to scumbag collectors. The sheer number of stelae was impressive though and not all had been stolen.

       Coming back, it later became obvious that our guide did not realize that two of us did want to go to the mirador, because instead of a slight detour, it was then a longish backtrack. Still we went.

      The mirador is a painted green wooden structure that gives a broad view of the site and beyond. It also sways slightly, which perked up my old fear of heights.  I made it to the level that was third from the top, but could do no more. Had it been a pyramid, it would have been of solid stone and I would have made it to the top, but it was wood and I did not manage it.

       In the morning, it was so chilly that it was only by having on a sweater, t-shirt  and shirt and keeping my head under the slim blanket and keeping my breath inside between it and the cloth hammock that I approached being comfortable. Early and a bit before dawn I wandered into the kitchen and tables area with the makings for a hot drink. One lady put a pot of water on for me and I eventually had a great cup of bouillon. Later during breakfast, I started thinking how good a steaming cup of Guatemalan coffee would probably be then, so I enjoyed what is for me a rare cup of that too.  

      We headed back to the river after breakfast and three went out paddling in the dugouts, but I didn't stop to fish. I just wanted the freedom to paddle around and practice my J stroke.  It was exhilarating to be able to move around in it without it feeling like it would tip over if I even breathed wrong.  Too soon I had to rush back for the arrival of the boat that would take us back to Paso Caballos.

      We mostly trolled back on that boat and did it slowly. With our agreement, we were also taking back a few people from the camp. Our guide there had finished his term and two rangers (the actual term is vigilantes, but that gives the wrong impression in English) who were not locals, but were on leave.  Once it became obvious by example that we were merely destined to watch others catch fish this trip, I suggested that we just head back to town. There was no dissent and we headed back.

      Back at Paso Caballos, there was some possibility that we could head back to Santa Elena with the two rangers. However, the vehicle that arrived for them had very little extra room. Probably just one of us could have fitted on it, so we waited.  

      Well, two of us waited for just a bit.  I am not much for hanging around anywhere, so Steve joined up and we headed out to explore the town, such as it is. First we went onward along the road we had come in on.  Almost at the end of town, we found a place that promised to open at 5 PM for drinks and another place that was open for buying sodas.  We wandered back and onward just past where the others awaited and found a tienda that claimed to sell cold beer.  After testing this claim and finding it to be true, we headed onward and we found yet another such place. Then we headed back to report, and based on this new information, Alex determined that it  would be a good idea to move the headquarters. We could keep an eye out from there for the van that would be coming for us in a couple hours. The beer was cold, there were just enough chairs and we had a pleasant time talking. All good things come to an end and eventually our van came, but moving onward is always a good thing on most trips.

      At some point during our explorations, a local family had asked Alex if he could take their young boy with a swollen hand in for treatment in Santa Elena, to which we readily agreed once we knew about it. However, when we all showed up in the van to pick him up, the family decided to not send him along. Alex suggested that the sight of so many gringos frightened them off, but I like to think that he was just getting better.  

      Once we were back in Flores, we headed straight to the Hotel Santana, where they had gotten our reservations screwed up. We each had reserved a single room before leaving, but there was only one of us mentioned and a mere reference to one of the others and I was nowhere to be found. Still, they got us all rooms, although mine was a ground floor double with a patio and lake view, but with the price of a single. I didn't mind. One of the others had room number 205 with a second floor balcony and lake view, but this was pretty cool too. It had been mine after the Mirador trip of the year before. I made a point of swimming in the pool this time and was not disappointed one bit.

      Early the next morning, there was a nasty and very French tour group making a lot of unnecessary noise in our hotel lobby, but even they didn't completely wake me up right away. We did get up soon though, once they were barely gone, then we too were on our way. I had seen Sayaxché minibuses at the market, so I asked the driver to take us there for that purpose. Instead, he took us to the Santa Elena bus station. There we soon were on a minibus that stopped at the market on its way to Sayaxché.

      Once at Sayaxché, there is the option of waiting in line for the minibus to continue over the river or of paying two Quetzals for quickly crossing over in a boat. We chose the latter and quite soon found another minibus that was almost ready to head straight to Raxrujá. 

      On the near outskirts of Raxrujá, I saw the sign for the Hotel Cancuén and we all got off. This hotel is mentioned in whatever guidebooks refer to the town, so we were there. It seemed a bit dreary, so we just got one single room for 100 Q and left our things in it. There was still a chance of seeing the ruins and moving onward the same day, so why waste money?

        We did easily see the Cancuén ruins, but we checked out the friendly Hotel El Amigo on the way back to the original hotel. This place was so much more pleasant and charged  60 for singles and 100 for doubles.  We split the price at Hotel Cancuén as storage and moved everything right away.  Staying in a pleasant lodging was so much better than rushing off to Cobán and racing with the light to get there that we didn't even discuss it. .

        In the morning, we headed out and as usual, we left early. Wanting to see what the fuss is about with Semuc Champey, I wanted to see its pools for myself, as did the others to some extent.

      However, we got onto a van whose driver promised to get us to Semuc Champey, but a bit later mentioned it would be on the way back from Cobán. This would have been a very good time to have a map available. I would have looked at it and quickly seen that we needed a van in another direction.  The countryside became relatively scenic once we had earlier gotten into the highlands. so it was pleasant enough going to Cobán.      

       Cobán has a plan where travelers must get off their smaller buses and vans at the outskirts of the city and taxi or walk inward, but because we figured we would ride onward with this company, we got to ride to their office in town. There was some time before the van would go onward, so we headed off to check into the Hotel Central and drop off our packs and get a bite to eat.

      There we found that no rooms would be available until early afternoon, so we dropped off our items in a storage room. I did pay for my room to assure the lady that we meant business and we headed off to eat. Then we got a cab and told him we wanted a minivan to Semuc Champey and showed him the address the other company had, but he took us to another firm that offered direct service.

      There was nothing we really wanted to see in the occasional drizzle of Cobán and we had no reservation for that day in the hostel of choice in Guate, so we took what would now be a two hour ride to Semuc Champey.

     The ride itself was probably more interesting and scenic than our goal turned out to be. It was coffee country and the highland views were impressive.

      One of the signs at the entrance told of Semuc being the Seventh Wonder of the World, which taking the nicest possible view was pure hyperbole.  If that were even sort of true, Great Falls, near DC, is in a much better in position to be called that. Any comparison with Niagara Falls would be just laughable.

         Except for just shrugging at the mirador, we saw it all.  Semuc Champey is not along the lines of the Emperor's New Clothes story, because it is nice looking and there are pools and a sumidero to see.  It just does not seem to be worth much of a detour. Having seen what there was of it, we were ready to return and we managed to get very quick overpriced takeout meals from the site's restaurant  just in time to leave with the next minivan.

      If a traveler had 2-3 weeks in Guatemala, it might be worth including in an itinerary or really really wanted to and wanted a lot of time and

      Back in Cobán two hours later, our rooms were ready.  I went to a bank to get some money from an ATM, but an employee there suggested that I instead go to a particular one a block away on the street. I did so and it kept asking me to verify my PIN.  After the third try I tired of this game and returned to the bank and just went ahead and used the bank ATM without any trouble at all.

       I asked the hotel manager for a recommendation for where to eat dinner and she suggested a place around the corner, El Refugio. Not realizing that it is only on the second story, we concluded from the first floor that it was defunct and wound up eating glumly at a Pollo Campero.

       Later in the evening we were walking near El Refugio and noticed that it was indeed open, so we headed in to see if the beer was any good. It was a  friendly place, and though from the menu it would have seemed to me to be a bit of a splurge for dinner, as the evening wore on, the waiter kept bringing botanas to snack on as we drank beer. Each plate seemed more tasty and we certainly dawdled a bit. 

       The next day we headed off relatively early and walked a couple of blocks to get on a Monja Blanca bus bound for Guate. It was one of those run-down first class ones and although there was a workable toilet, this one was for urination only. The bus was not very full, so the driver did pick up and drop off some people along the way, but not with the frequency of a normal second class vehicle.

       We arrived in good time in Guate and hired a cab to Xamanek Student Inn. The manager,  Ana Cristina, was saying goodbye to some guests outside, so we got a hearty welcome on the street.

       Steve had upgraded his reservation to a separate room, and I was fine with a bunk, but when Greg tried out a couple of the  beds, it was obvious that none were quite big enough for him. When he said that he could use frequent flier points for a free room at the Holiday Inn a couple blocks away, Ana Cristina gave a friendly laugh, and told him he was released from his reservation and that he should book there.  So he went to the nearby Holiday Inn.

              We got situated.  Steve needed his laundry to be done soon, so we headed out, following Ana Cristina's description of where one was and dropped it off. Wandering over toward the Holiday Inn, we located Greg. Then we ate a pleasant enough lunch at one of the more expensive foreign food chains.  Back at Xamanek, I washed my clothes and hung them to dry upstairs.

       After a decent supper at Casa Chapina, a very nice Guatemalan style restaurant,  we eventually headed to a nightclub. It wasn't all that busy, probably because of the earliness of the hour. Beer was a whopping 24 Quetzales each, but with Happy Hour, it was two for the price of one.  Once we each fulfilled the second part of the two for one offer, we headed back.

       Steve headed to Antigua the next day, because he had not seen it before. Ana Cristina called and arranged for a shuttle van to pick him up and take him there. Then he was off.

       Greg and I got a cab to Kaminaljuyú.  I am glad I returned to those ruins, because someone did a lot of work there since I my visit in 1992.  The outside has changed little, in that it is mostly a series of mounds in a pleasant grassy area, but inside two of them you can see a lot of structure that is open to view that was not reconstructed before.  Then we went to the Mercado Central,  poked around a bit and bought a few odds and ends.

        The next day, Steve's flight was fairly early, so Greg and I saw him off. There had been an odd little building that Greg and I had noticed along Avenida Reforma on the way between the Zona Viva and downtown and Greg wanted to see it closer. This turned out to be the Chapel of our Lady of the Anguishes, which is a heavily decorated chapel, of which Greg was unable to get a picture of its entire length.

        We then found a cab onward to the Mercado Central to get some odds and ends. I had thought of looking some more and bought some things I had not seen before, one of which was an additional gift for my wife. Greg was running out of time, so he said goodbye and got a taxi back to his hotel.  I got a cab to a Farmacia Similar, which is the local discount pharmacy. There are two in Guatemala City, but both are in Zone 1. The prices are such that it was well worth seeking one out. 

      I flew out the next day. It was uneventful getting to the airport itself, but then I had to deal with US Airways, when it was not at its best.     

Dreadful Experience With USAir Both Ways

      February 15th, 2007. The flight from Philadelphia was not as uneventful as I generally like. My shuttle was somewhat late, but that would have been no problem, except for the huge snaking line to check in at US Air and the fact that the do-it-yourself kiosks were not working. As usual, I was checking in nothing at all, so I mentally kicked myself a number of times for not having made better use of my time by printing out a boarding pass while spending extra time waiting for the shuttle at home.

      Sometimes things look so bad that you just have to force a smile and come up with backup plans, and this was one of them. About the time I was half way through the line, I heard the last call for my flight to Charlotte, where I was to connect with the one flight of the day to Guatemala City.

      Just when I was finally fifth in line to see an agent, there was sudden talk of how all flights to Las Vegas were cancelled due to weather. Then someone who did not even appear to be an employee shouted out "everyone for Vegas to the front".   There was a collective angry shout of "NO" from the front tier of the line as all order collapsed. The situation got roiled enough that five policemen came to stand with the agents to quell the anger. 

      In a lull after those that I see as the "Lost" Vegas people moved on, I quickly saw a mini-line in front of a particular agent and joined it as third in line. The best the agent could do was to get me on standby for the only other flight that could meet my flight to Guate and I was soon off to get into the line for security. Although it was long, it looked doable to reach the gate in time for my new flight and it was. 

      Racing to the gate, I soon got into a much shorter line and the fellow there soon looked up my name and told me to wait. Eventually after he appeared to pass out all the late seat assignments, I went up and asked, and he did somehow have one for me too. I found that the flight wasn't all that close to full, so one would think that the fellow could have given me some reason to hope for a seat.

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      Coming back on the 27th, I arrived at the Guatemala City airport in plenty of time, but the computers were down, so the ticketing agents were writing out boarding passes. I only checked in one small bag, but it had any liquids I was taking back and my dirty clothes, along with expendable items. My arrival in Charlotte was uneventful and I did manage to get real boarding passes, but when I arrived in Philly at almost midnight, the luggage took forever to start.

      Then two pieces of luggage appeared and then it all stopped again. I called the shuttle company to tell them of the delay. The fellow said that if I could get my luggage within a few minutes, he could have the driver wait a bit before heading out with the other customer. That did not happen, but when I finally did get my piece of luggage, I called back to find that he would probably be able to get hold of one last driver, so I sat near the information desk to be able to see him arrive. 

      The lady at the info desk kindly let me just leave my luggage there when I went to the bath room. As I headed that way, I saw a glum looking line of about eight people. On my way back, I asked the last person in line if it was the "lost luggage" line and he assured me that it was. It could have been worse and my driver arrived, having been called back from being on the way home for the night.