Danny Beer - From the city of angels to the land of fire. Danny Beer, gringo on tour

The day is hot and the road is crap. It sure is a day of road works. After six km the road widens to the lovable freeway once again but alas it is short lived as all too soon road works hinder the ride. Some minor issues with traffic but this has all become second nature by now. Truck driver seems to be a synonym for arsehole.

There are a couple hotels on route. After a bite to eat you really do feel like moving on. The town is as dead as the last and it would be nice to be somewhere more lively for the weekend. It is only three but you go back to the posada and check in. Good thing too as the heavens soon open up in a torrential downpour.

The plan now, if you can communicate this to Sofia, is to lie in tomorrow morning and hopefully meet up here for lunch. Then together you can ride another thirty or fifty km depending. Maybe.

You meet up with Sofia at the Posada at around twelve. After lunch it is all uphill. A guy stops and gives you some local food to eat. He seems to be praying for you. You probably need it.

Some guy wants you to stop and chat. He wants to take you to the lagoon but you insist on cycling. “Is it uphill’ you ask. Lots of curves is all you are able to get. Sofia catches up with you as you grab a bite to eat. She asks herself about ascents and with all her Spanish is only able to find out the same. Lots of curves. But what does that mean? Uphill curves or downhill ones?

Just after a town after 36 km of mostly uphill cycling you find a hospedaje. But the lagoon just ahead is apparently mui bonita so you detour another four km there to find out for yourself. It’s nice but there’s nowhere to really stay and now you need to cycle four km uphill to get back to the hospedaje.

On the way back you find a bee somewhere in your shirt. Some frantic moments a spent veering all over the road as you try to get it out.

Is it just you or is the traffic today noticeably more aggressive? You leave Sofia at the hotel and continue on. Apparently there is a lot of uphill ahead and she would rather take the bus from the next town. There are a couple of ascents but nothing longer than six or seven kilometers. Cintalapa and Ocozocoautla are both decent sized towns with a few accommodations options in each. You stop at a campsite/restaurant with a pool just before Cintalapa. Three teenage boys approach as you near the restaurant. They aren’t intimidating but their idiotic attitude loses the place business. Why would you want to eat at a place with three guys staring at you at laughing about English. They’re probably trying to be helpful. But you don’t need nor want them around. You leave and eat elsewhere.

You get to Ocozocoautla, the day’s destination and are lured in by some hotcakes. With three more hours of daylight left you should be able to make the 36 km to Tuxla. Only six km of it is uphill apparently. It’s the first six. You come to a crossroads. There aren’t any signs so you ask a guy for directions. He is able to point in 180 degrees at once. You cross the road and ask some women but they keep walking before you can get an answer. Fortunately there is a sign across the road so you go there to get your information.

From here a nice wide shoulder is available all the way in to Tuxla. A truck and then a bus prefer to drive on the shoulder rather than their lane, passing way too close. The bus is particularly bad as it overtakes as you fly downhill giving you a long moment of uncertain exhilaration. Do bus drivers do this on purpose?

The first ten km out of Tuxla is pretty much downhill. Your front gears have broken so you detour off the main artery to find a bike shop. Easily fixed if you know what you are doing. Hell if you don’t.

Back on the freeway it is forty km straight up to San Christobel. Up and up you go. It rains. You get wet. Traffic often use the shoulder as an extra lane. A few cars pass marginally close leaving you cursing behind. Eventually your legs give out and you can no longer ride the ascent. You walk.

You reach the summit, cold and wet. Changing gears you almost ride straight into a great big hole built into the shoulder. The same shoulder you are riding on. More of these holes appear as you ride the last few km downhill and into town. It is right on dark and you have no more energy left.

But where exactly is the town? You ask directions a few times and find your way to the hostel. A hot shower and a few cold beers make a nice evening in.

You spend three days in San Christobel. The first is spent at a nearby Zapata village. It is interesting in a way with the rebels. The ride to and fro isn’t so nice making you feel really sick. The second day is spent going to the ruins of Palenque. The ruins are nice but the bus ride there, including a six AM start. On the third day you find a bike shop and finally sort out your rims. About time too. In order to fit it all on they have to put new rear gears on. So now you have six rear gears instead of eight.

You don’t leave San Christobel until late. You feel sick for most of the ride to Comitan. There are two significant descents with a nice long ascent in between. After the first descent you find a town. You hope for a restaurant soon after but none are to be found for another fifty km and you don’t eat at all until dinner.

On the ascent dark clouds turn to rain. It passes before the pass and the day turns sunny once more. Comitan is a nice town. You find Sofia, get some food and look for a place to stay.

It is a nice mostly downhill day. You make the same mistake as yesterday with lunch. For forty km there is pretty much nothing to eat. You stop at one place but their dog tries to bite your fingers off. Time to move on. You stop for a hamburgesa and wait for Sofia to catch up.

As soon as you get over one illness you get another. You never felt okay in San Christobel. And now after only being better for a couple days you are sick again. It must have been that hamburger you ate.

The last four km to the Guatemalan border are painful. You know you are close when rubbish is littered about. After border formalities you cross over. Well, under the barrier technically. It is on dark. This is a rugged border town. Sofia wants to find a hotel and lock the door. You find a nice hotel and book in. The price is about twenty US when Sofia asks but when you return soon after the price is higher. So send Sofia back in to sort it out.

Welcome to Guatemala.

You awake late, finally hauling yourself out of bed to get breakfast. But back in the room a movie on TV seems so much easier than the ascent ahead. You feel weak. You feel sick. The climb is draining on your legs.

Guatemala is a little like Mexico but rougher around the edges. The people look poorer but culturally richer. Lot’s of holas and bye byes. There are a couple nice descents early on but after that the road just climbs. It’s not steep but together with you being ill and all it’s not nice.