Today we are having another one-day motorcycle adventure.
Our plan is to cross de Cerro de La Cruz to get to San Lorenzo, and from there
go north toward the valley of the Motagua river, where we will visit the
archaeologic site of Mixco Viejo. The Motagua River follows an enormous
left-lateral transform zone that separates the North American tectonic plate to
the north from the Caribbean tectonic plate to the south. From the standpoint
of the motorcyclist, this means we are going to an area where tectonic activity
has created many young, steep mountains separated by deep chasms. Roads are
typically developed along the ridgelines, so to go from point A to point B you
often have to take a detour to the crown of the ridge, and from there go down
along a different ridgeline to your destination (imagine it as going up and
down the legs of a spider). It also
means that if you get in the wrong ridge you may end a long distance far away
from your intended destination, as you will see later in this narrative.
We departed at about 8:30 am, and within half an hour I
encountered by first challenge. We were going up a very steep slope in the
Cerro de la Cruz, when I stalled (I was trying to go up in 2nd gear
where I should have been in 1st gear) and fell. It was a slow-motion
fall, so I was unharmed, but the impact broke the clutch lever. Rats! Tom
looked at it and decided we needed to go back, and promptly rode the bike back
with no clutch!
My bike is an Italika 200 cc dirt bike, and has seen its
share of mishaps. Like many racing bikes it does not have a light, so it is not
strictly street legal. However, we solved the problem of the lack of the front
light by simply making the plan not to ride at night. Duh! Only a complete
idiot would think riding at night in Guatemala is a good idea.
Having replaced the clutch we go again on our way, at around
9:30 am, and Tom decided that we were a little behind schedule and were better
off using the highway. That worked pretty well, but after San Lucas we had to
get on one of the legs of the spider and climb, climb, climb to the high point
(San Juan, a town that has been taken over by furniture makers). My rear breaks
were pretty soft, and the clutch lever not quite a perfect fit, so in San Juan
Tom spied an Italika dealer and in half hour I had good breaks (thank God,
because I was really going to need them). So down and down we go, and then up
and up, and down and down to the next ridge until we reached the site of Mixco
Viejo.
Mixco Viejo, or Chuwa Nima’ Ab’Aj in Quiche, is a mountain
top complex, where the inhabitants razed the top of the hill flat (a little
like Monte Alban in Oaxaca, Mexico), taking advantage of the soft substrate
formed by a poorly welded ignimbrite. Then, and this baffles my powers of
imagination, imported basalt blocks and schist slabs to build an exquisite
complex of temples and ball courts. I have no idea where the metamorphic rocks
came from (schist, gneiss, and marble), and at the beginning I thought they had
been imported by the archaeologists who were reconstructing the site, but we
inspected a couple of partially crumbling structures and found they also
included the metamorphic rocks. It is clear from its position at the top of the
hill, dominating the Motagua River, that this site must have been a defensive
position, or maybe a tollhouse for commerce along the river valley.
At this point we should have headed back, but a little
hungry devil convinced us to keep going away from home, to look for a chicharroneria to have something to eat.
This uniquely Guatemalan style of restaurant relies of the butchering of a
large pig, and in cooking it as carnitas for three or four days. Unfortunately
it was Monday, and the pork extravaganza is normally done Thursday to Sunday,
so we wasted a couple of hours chasing after the day dream of a chicharroneria (plus I fell from the
bike a second time, again due to a stall in a 45 degree slope, and Tom had to
have a flat tire fixed at a local pinchazo
or tire repair shop).
So we started on our way back an hour to late. Tom has been
a fountain of training and good advice, and he would never dream on criticizing
a friend and guest, but as the chief of the expedition he suggested I might
want to go a bit faster. Off we went, but we took a couple of wrong ways that
forced us to back track, and as we joined main roads were significantly slowed
down by the colorful buses that transport people and goods between mountain
towns. We got a bit of rain, but fortunately Tom had brought two large black
plastic bags for us to wear as ponchos, and we pushed on (the rain was very
thin and gentle, but the threat of a torrential storm was on the air). The
black clouds also immersed the world in penumbra, so driving the motorcycle through
it started getting a feel of unreality.
We were a good 60 kilometers of Antigua, just joining the
highway, when darkness fell. But we were like wraiths, rushing through the
country (Tom had to encourage me to ride at highway speeds), with Tom riding close
behind me, illuminating the ground ahead with his light. I could barely
distinguish the outlines of crazy people dashing across the freeway in the
darkness, as I frantically beeped my horn to let them know a runaway train was
coming. Kilometer after kilometer we went, part of that immersed in a thin fog
that rapidly condensed on my glasses. Cars, trucks, and other motorcyclists
emerged from the fog as ghost ships, as if we were together engaged on a
ghostly race. But I was confident, knowing that Tom had my back, and as we
entered Antigua I turned around to grin at him when, much to my dismay, I
discovered no Tom. Crap! I turned around and there, right in front of me, he
was taking the lead to navigate our way through the streets of Antigua. Tom
kept looking behind, and I thought he was overdoing the mother hen act, but he
later told me he couldn’t see me in the darkness, even though I was barely 10 m
from him.
We made it home at last! Wet and cold as we were, we both
rejoiced on yet another adventure coming to a happy conclusion. Were we
surprised? Not really. This adventure has the true sign of authenticity from a
Tom-Horacio venture! I regret to say that we will probably have a few more
close shaves together as years go by. 😊
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