Guatemala Group Trip Part 2: Motorcycles and Loud Hostels
Initially, I was only supposed to meet up with the girls for the hike, then we would go our own ways. I was renting a motorcycle and going to the beach and they were going to do another hike. Vanessa decided she didn’t want to do the hike and Natalie was still feeling ill so they opted to meet me at the beach and let Renata go solo. I was glad to have the company.
The morning after the hike, I was good and nervous as I packed my bags and made my way to the shop. The streets in Antigua were narrow and the traffic looked a bit chaotic. I also had language barrier concerns and worries about what I would do if the bike broke. I had also heard many a rumor about corrupt police supplementing their income by threatening gringos. It was too late to back out, I had already paid and I had already told people I was doing it, so, dammit I was going to do it. I walked to the shop and met a man who spoke good English, with a bit of a French accent. It turns out he was Guatemalan but had spent many years living near Montreal. He walked me through the bike, a Honda Tornado 250cc. It was black, and a little scratched, but it fit me perfect. He asked how much experience I had with things like flat tires. I told him the truth, that I had very little, and he casually put a tracker in the saddle bag of my bike. He also informed me that the word for flat tire was “Pinchazo” and that was also the name for someone who fixes the flats. He gave me some tips on my route and told me he had never heard of anyone having issues with police. He said “if you get pulled over, give them this insurance paperwork, your license, and a smile, you’ll be fine”. I guess the stories I had heard of police making up charges and demanding on the spot payment were, perhaps, unfounded or exaggerated.
I turned on my GoPro and started driving down the cobblestone streets, initially the busy streets were terrifying but I soon learned it was much like walking in a crowd or being on a ski hill, everyone watches for everything. I made my first stop, a café where the girls were having breakfast. Natalie informed me she couldn’t finish her breakfast and before she was done offering it to me, I had a fork in motion. I then walked them outside and excitedly showed off my new bike. I probably sounded like my nephew with new Hot Wheels, boys never grow out of that. I punched my coordinates into my phone and set the app so it would read the directions to me, that way I could keep it in my pocket. Just before I put my helmet on I asked if anyone wanted to give me a kiss for good luck, there were no takers… it was worth a shot. I fired up the bike and hit the road. Renata was catching a bus north for the hike while Natalie and Vanessa would meet me that afternoon at the hotel also via bus.
Traffic getting out of Antigua was a little heavy but not hard to navigate, it was only a few turns at stop lights. I then found myself on a highway. The drive itself was scenic, but uneventful. The roads were smooth tarmac that made me jealous, Canadian winters pulverize our roads to a near gravel like state. One funny thing happened on the way. I was going on a divided highway, California 9, I believe, when I thought my GPS told me to take an exit. I took the exit that curled me on the overpass above the highway, then I was instructed to merge onto the highway again, then immediately on to the exit, then back across and merged back onto the road I was initially on. I had basically detoured four loops quickly to end up where I had started. I chuckled in my helmet and kept driving. I passed a few small towns and stopped at a gas station, used my rudimentary Spanish to buy some fuel from the attendant. I then went in a bought some plantain chips and an ice cold soda, it was amazing. This was probably the most satisfying part of the trip for me. I knew I could drive the bike but I worried about communicating for food and fuel. Turns out charades and toddler level Spanish could get the job done.
When I first left Antigua, the views were primarily mountains and the weather was the perfect temperature for riding, warm but not hot. As I drove the highway, I hit a wide turn and went down a hill and almost like flipping a switch, the weather was hot. The wind on my body felt like a hair dryer and suddenly there were palm trees and open fields. Shortly before I arrived at the hotel in El Paredon, I drove a sandy road that paralleled the ocean. I found the ruts, bumps, and dips quite exciting, but my new camera has such good image stabilization that the footage doesn’t show it.
I arrived at The Driftwood Surf Hostel at 3pm long before the girls. I was checked into our room and allowed to park my bike in the yard behind the gate. The staff were friendly and I signed up for a surf lesson at 4. To kill time in-between I sat in the pool and had a beer from the swim up bar. It was at this point it dawned on me that this was, in fact, a party hostel. There were young people everywhere and music was blasting. I didn’t think much of it, but later it would be a problem. A group of young women chatted with me at the bar and suggested that when I get to Atitlan I take the party boat. They described it as drunken, sweaty, and sexy. To me it sounded horrible, and I told them that, they assured me my lady friends would love it. I later told Natalie and Vanessa about the sales pitch and it became a bit of a running joke.
The surf lesson was ugly. It was fun, but I was still sick from the hike and tired from the days riding. There were lots of falls and fails. By the time the lesson was over, the girls had arrived. We went for a dinner at a small shack just off the beach, then turned in for the night, tired from the days events. Unfortunately, the hostel was having a DJ night and it didn’t let up until the wee hours of the morning. We all put earplugs in and did our best. I was able to sleep a bit, but the girls did not. I had another surf lesson that morning, early. By the time I got back it was decided that there would be a change of hotels. I went and talked to reception, I had booked 3 nights, I could cancel the last night without penalty but was stuck for one more night minimum. They found a nicer, cheaper, quieter, nearby hotel for themselves and moved that day. I canceled my third night and would join them for the last night. It was a headache but it was for the best. I was also embarrassed because I had picked the first hotel that was so bad, and the girls found a better one in less than an hour.
Beyond the hotel logistics, it was a nice day and we didn’t do too much. My morning surf lessons went better and I managed to catch a few waves. The girls checked into their hotel, we had some lunch, and spent some time in the pool at the new hotel as it was a little nicer and had no one else in it. For some reason, for the last year, Natalie and I had a running joke about doing the lift from Dirty Dancing. In Thailand we never found a place with a pool and in Jasper the hot springs were closed when she came. At this hotel pool, we finally got a chance to try and actually did a pretty good job of it. It took more than a few tries but we got it to work. After supper, I headed back to my hotel and called it a night. Unfortunately, that night at my hotel was some form of strip-pool, where players would play pool and have to remove clothes if they missed, sounds like a young mans game to me. Luckily it was a bit quieter than DJ night so I was able to sleep without earplugs.
I had my last surfing lesson which ended on a high note with me catching waves and riding them to the very end. I then checked out, settled up the bill and headed over to the new hotel that the girls were already checked into. We had some breakfast and while Natalie did some school work, Vanessa and I went for a walk. I was told, on the far end of town, there were boats that could take my motorcycle across the river, I wanted to confirm because that sounded fun. As we hit the end of town, there it was, a big concrete ramp leading to dozens of boats waiting for customers.
I stood, surveying the situation, wondering who to talk to when a group of four pulled up in a boat, two young men and two young women. They appeared to be American and spoke English amongst themselves and then thanked a man on shore in Spanish. It seems they had rented his boat. As they offloaded they all walked passed and I grabbed their attention. I asked the local if he spoke English, he said a bit. I asked one of the Americans if they could translate, they agreed, and I asked “can you take my bike on your boat across the river tomorrow?” the man nodded, looked at the local and said, in perfect English “he wants you to take his bike across the river tomorrow” and we all had a good laugh. The local man introduced himself as Caesar, and said he would take me at 10ish for 50 Quetzals (about $10). I thanked him for his help, shook his hand and started walking. The four Americans jumped into a pickup with Florida plates and offered us a ride. I found them fascinating, but I declined their offer, I was enjoying the walk.
For our last night, we went to a fancy outdoor restaurant that is only open three days a week and only until the food runs out. It was called Chef in Flip Flops and this week they were serving Thai food. It was ok, but we each had a cocktail and they were actually better than the meal. After the meal, we walked to the corner store and each grabbed another drink and some snacks. We then went back to the hotel and tried to relax in the pool before getting bored and feeling the need to try and do the lift again. Between the surfing and the lifts, I was starting to feel like Patrick Swayze, if only I could dance like him… Maybe my next trip should involve dance lessons?
Technical
I rented the bike from a company called MAGtours. I am unsure the year of the bike but it was a 250cc Honda, single cylinder, dual sport. Its basically the CRF250l but with a carburetor and drum brake in the rear, its my understanding that the tornado was sold outside of Canada, USA, and Europe to countries that still want carburation and dont have emissions standards. I brought my own jacket and gloves from home. The jacket is made by Speed and Strength, I took the protective padding out of the jacket to make it fit in my bag. I emailed the manufacturer and they confirmed that the jacket did have abrasion resistance, but they highly recommended leaving the padding in. It wasn’t the safest way to do it, but it was safer than no jacket. Without the padding it looks more or less like a normal zip up, hooded jacket, and I wore it on my volcano hike. I had a seamstress add some Velcro panels to the side while doing some other repairs so I could put a Canadian flag patch on each arm. The gloves I bought second hand on Facebook marketplace, they are by Joe Rocket and somehow only cost me $20. They were a little warm but the venting on them did their work well. The helmet was provided by the rental shop and with their permission I mounted my GoPro hero 11 on the front of it. The camera was bought for this trip. For shoes I just used my hiking boots, better than sneakers but not as safe as a true motorcycle boot. Sadly, some safety preferences had to give way to the realities of my luggage limitations.
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