dreirad

Mutter Theresas Schwester

Nur ein einziges mal haben wir uns auf dem Weg hinaus aus Guadalajara verfahren. Sobald wir die Schnellstrasse erreicht hatten, war alles okay. Der Verkehr war Wahnsinn und die Luft geschwängert von Abgasen. Das Atmen tat in Nase und Kehle weh, die Augen brannten und wegen des Lärms konnten wir uns nicht mal unterhalten. Endlich nach etwa 40 km konnten wir wieder durchatmen. Als wir zurückblickten, sahen wir eine braune Smogglocke über der Stadt.

Francesca, eine über siebzig Jahre alte kosmopolitische Frau erzählte uns, dass man vor 4o Jahren noch die Berge rings um die damals noch Kleinstadt Guadalajara sehen konnte. Francesca wurde in Indonesien geboren und wuchs in den Niederlanden und in der Schweiz auf. Sie lebte unter anderem in Mexiko und den USA. Momentan lebt sie drei Monate im Jahr in Guadalajara und arbeitet hier mit den Straßenkindern. Danach verbringt sie drei Monate in der Nähe von San Francisco, um zu meditieren und neue Energie zu tanken, um erneut drei Monate mit den Straßenkindern zu arbeiten. Die restlichen drei Monate des Jahres verbringt sie immer in der Schweiz. Diese charismatische alte Lady hat einst gemeinsam mit Mutter Theresa gearbeitet und führt diese Arbeit jetzt auf ihre eigene Art fort. Sie hat “ihre” Kinder, denen sie versucht lesen und schreiben beizubringen, so dass sie in der Schule Anschluss finden. Manche, so sagt sie, brauchen einfach nur etwas Aufmerksamkeit, ihnen etwas beizubringen, ist nicht mehr möglich. Sie können sich nicht mehr konzentrieren, in ihrem kurzen Leben haben sie zuviel Missbrauch erlebt. Also hört Francesca ihnen zu, kämmt ihnen die Haare, badet sie und ist einfach da für diese Kinder. Kinder, die auf der Strasse ausgesetzt werden, weil ihre Familien kein Geld für ein weiteres Kind haben. Manche werden geraubt und zur Prostitution gezwungen und später ausgesetzt. Manche sind Waisenkinder, für die keiner verantwortlich sein will.

Wir bekommen viele Geschenke

Ein Freund hatte uns die Adresse eines kanadischen Ehepaares gegeben, Rhoda und Jim, die in Ajicic am Chapalasee leben. Bei ihnen konnten wir zwei Tage bleiben. Rhoda kochte zwei leckere Abendessen für uns. Nach wochenlang gekochtem Gemüse, aßen wir endlich mal wieder frischen Salat. Für Chan hatte Rhoda, die selbst Oma ist, besondere Leckereien parat und Seifenblasen in einer Flasche, die wie ein Frosch geformt ist. Diese liebt er ganz besonders. Die Gegend um Chapala ist dafür bekannt, dass sie das Territorium der US- Amerikaner ist. Tatsächlich hatte es den Anschein, als ob in der Stadt mehr Gringos als Mexikaner anzutreffen sind. Jim empfahl uns die Strecke um den See herum wegen der schönen Aussicht und des geringeren Verkehrs. Für uns bedeutete das, das wir zunächst einen halben Tag westwärts, anstatt in Richtung Osten fuhren. Und es gab einen über 10km langen FAHRRADWEG!!

Die südliche Seeseite war absolut untouristisch. Entlang der Küste schlängelten sich kleine Bauern und Fischerdörfer. Die ersten Felder, an denen wir vorbeifuhren waren Himbeerfelder, die Sträucher hingen voller Beeren und das mitten im Winter. Es folgten Zwiebel-, Mais-, Kürbis- und Jalapeñofelder. Das Wasser für die Felder kommt vom See, der auch als Reservoir für Guadalajara und die anderen Gemeinden rund um den See dient. Die Fahrtroute war hügelig, aber leicht zu bewältigen, am späten Abend suchten wir nach einer Zeltmöglichkeit. In einer kleinen Stadt wurde uns empfohlen, direkt auf der Plaza die Nacht zu verbringen. Irgendwie fühlten wir uns dort etwas ausgestellt, und so fragten wir eine Mutter, die vorbeikam, ob sie nicht einen besseren Platz wüsste. Unterdessen begann Chan mit ihren Kindern zu spielen. Die Frau meinte, wir könnten in ihres Schwagers Haus übernachten, der zur Zeit in den USA weilt. Allerdings wollte sie zuvor seine Verwandten um Erlaubnis fragen. Sie schickte ihren Ehemann los, seinen Vater zu fragen und wir unterhielten uns unterdessen. Später brachte sie uns Suppe und Tortillas. Wir warteten auf die Rückkehr ihres Mannes, inzwischen war die Dunkelheit längst hereingebrochen. Es wurde langsam spät, Chan war hungrig und müde. Also kochten wir Abendbrot, die Frau versicherte uns, ihr Mann würde innerhalb einer Stunde zurückkommen. Gegen 22 Uhr war unsere Geduld erschöpft. Endlich führte sie uns zu dem Haus. Wir freuten uns, endlich auszupacken. Als das Zelt stand, tauchte der Mann und sein Vater auf, um die Haustür aufzusperren. Sie empfahlen uns wegen der Skorpione im Haus zuschlafen. Also, bereiteten Chan und ich unser Schlaflager im Haus, während der arme Flo das Zelt wieder einpacken durfte. Am Morgen brachte uns die Frau noch Tortillas und Rührei.

Bisher war die Route um den See ziemlich flach verlaufen, aber nun bog sie vom Ufer ab und führte etwa 5 km bergan in die Hügel. Wir benötigten eine Stunde. Der Weg wieder bergab war 10 km lang, dafür benötigten wir 10 Minuten! In dieser Nacht schlugen wir unser Zelt auf dem eingezäunten Parkplatz eines Familienrestaurants auf. Wieder mal hatte Chan einen Spielkameraden in seinem Alter und wir bekamen köstliches süßes Brot als Dessert. Als Gegenleistung reparierten wir das Fahrrad der Tochter, mit dem sie immer zur Schule fährt. Flo und ich erwachten von dem Geräusch der Regentropfen, die auf die Zeltplane platschten. Wir schliefen wieder ein, aber jedes Mal, wenn wir aufwachten, war das Geräusch noch da. Also, mussten wir aufstehen und unser Gepäck umpacken. Unsere Regenkleidung hatten wir auf dieser Reise bisher noch nicht gebraucht. Chan war der einzige, der sich über den Regen freute. Eingepackt in Regenhosen, Stiefel und Regenjacke lies er sein hölzernes Segelboot voller Freude in den Pfützen schwimmen. Es brauchte eine ganze Weile, bis wir alles regendicht verstaut hatten. Zum Abschied kam die Restaurantbesitzerin und brachte uns heißen Zitronentee und Granola Riegel für Chan.

Es regnete den ganzen Tag, am frühen Nachmittag waren Flo und ich völlig durchweicht, so schwitzten wir unter der Regenkleidung. Chan saß sicher und warm in seinem wetterfesten Anhänger. Wir mussten uns entscheiden, ob wir in der nächsten größeren Stadt bleiben wollten oder auf die Schnellstrasse fahren, um noch ein paar Kilometer mehr zurückzulegen. Wir entschieden uns für die erste Möglichkeit und suchten nach einem Hotel. Das erste was wir fanden, sah ziemlich nobel aus, Flo fragte trotzdem nach dem Preis. Wir bezahlten 28$ pro Nacht, in einem Hotel, das aussah, als hätte es mindestens vier Sterne. Unser Zimmer war riesig, mit Fernseher und einer großen Badewanne. Wir drehten den Wasserhahn auf, um die Wanne vollzulassen, aber es kam kein Wasser raus. Das Wasser war abgedreht, weil an einer Seite des Hotels angebaut wurde. Am Abend gab es dann wieder heißes Wasser und wir nahmen eine ausgiebige Dusche, Chan spielte mit seinen Eimerchen in der Wanne.

Am Morgen war alles wieder trocken und wir fuhren auf dem guten Seitenstreifen der Schnellstrasse weiter, nur noch ein paar Pfützen waren auf den Strassen. Unser Ziel war das Hochplateau von Michoacan, der Weg dorthin führte fast nur bergauf. Am Mauthäuschen legten wir eine Mittagspause ein und jemand gab uns eine Süßigkeit aus Guaven und einen Kokoskuchen. Ein Rotkreuz Mitarbeiter gab uns zwei Flaschen Energiedrinks. Die Nacht verbrachten wir unter dem Dach einer im Bau befindlichen Tequilladestillerie. Für diese Unterkunft waren wir sehr dankbar, denn kaum, dass wir die Fahrräder darunter geschoben hatten, begann es wieder zu regnen. Es regnete wieder die ganze Nacht, hörte aber glücklicherweise kurz bevor wir weiterfuhren auf. An diesem Tag hatten wir zum ersten Mal auf dieser Reise eine Steigung auf 2000m Höhe zu bewältigen, und das gleich zweimal. Die Energydrinks kamen uns nun zugute, immer wieder mussten wir kurze Verschnaufpausen einlegen, um uns zu erholen. Kurz bevor die nächste Regenfront kam, erreichten wir eine weitere Mautstation und fanden dort eine Unterstellmöglichkeit. Florian fuhr in das nahe Dorf, um Lebensmittel und Wasser zu kaufen, während Chan im Gras hinter dem Mauthäuschen spielte und ich schrieb. Zurück kam Flo mit einem 20 Liter Kanister Trinkwasser, sonst hätte er zehn 1 Liter Flaschen zum dreifachen Preis kaufen müssen. Gerade als alles für die Nacht verstaut war, begann es wieder zu regnen… Früh kamen die Angestellten der Cafeteria, die zur Mautstation gehört und brachten uns Saft für Chan und Schokokekse für uns. Die ersten 10 Kilometer führten erneut bergauf, und nach einer kurzen Bergabfahrt von nur 5 Kilometern wieder bergauf. Oben bot sich der Blick in eine große Senke, mit einem See in der Mitte. Es sah so aus, als wären die letzen 20 Kilometer ein Leichtes. Aber nach nur 5 Kilometern bergab, ging es wieder bergauf, und zwar viel steiler als wir es dem Landschaftsbild nach glauben konnten. Mir kam der Gedanke, das es ein Fehler sei in Richtung Mexikos höchster Berge zu radeln. Wann haben wir uns bloß für diese Route entschieden? Egal, wir erreichten ein kleines Dorf, das auf halben Weg am See lag und fragten nach einer Übernachtungsmöglichkeit. Man schickte uns zu den heißen Quellen. Es war ein Schwimmbad und wir waren ziemlich frustriert als wir herausfanden, dass wir dort für das Camping bezahlen mussten. Der Angestellte erklärte uns, es kostet 25 Pesos pro Tag für Erwachsene und 15 Pesos für Kinder, die Nacht kostet noch mal 30 Pesos pro Person. Wir versuchten ihm zu erklären, dass wir nur einen Platz für die Nacht brauchten und gar nicht baden gehen wollten. Was, müssen wir bezahlen, wenn wir jetzt um 17 Uhr unser Zelt aufbauen? Seine Antwort war, dass wir vor 19 Uhr beide Gebühren, die für den Tag und für die Nacht bezahlen müssten und wenn wir nicht vor 7 Uhr früh den Platz wieder verlassen würden, käme auch noch die Gebühr für den nächsten Tag dazu. So was nach einem anstrengenden Tag auf dem Rad, ich war echt sauer. Flo hatte etwas mehr Geduld, trotzdem beendeten wir die Diskussion und begannen direkt neben dem Eingang zum Pool unser Abendbrot zuzubereiten. Kurz nach 6 Uhr ging Flo noch mal zu dem Angestellten und diesmal lies er uns für eine Gesamtgebühr von 80 Pesos (5,50 Euro) rein. Nicht gerade billig, aber eine relativ normale Campinggebühr. Die einzige Bedingung war, dass wir vor 9 Uhr früh wieder weg sein mussten.

Das Leben an einer caseta (Mautstation)

Manchmal kamen wir recht zeitig an einer Caseta an und entschlossen uns dennoch zu bleiben, entweder weil es auf der weiteren Strecke keine Übernachtungsmöglichkeiten gab oder weil wir einfach erschöpft und müde vom vielen bergauf fahren waren. Casetas sind der ideale Platz um den extremen Unterschied zwischen Mexikos reicher und armer Bevölkerung zu beobachten. Die Reichen könnten von jedem beliebigen Platz der Industriestaaten stammen, sie würden nirgends auffallen, wenn sie in ihren sauberen, glänzenden Autos vorfahren. Sie machen ein Päuschen, rauchen eine Zigarette, trinken einen Kaffe oder essen eine Kleinigkeit und brausen wieder davon. Die Lkw Fahrer halten um zu schlafen oder zu essen und fahren ebenfalls weiter. All diese Menschen werden sehnsüchtig von ganzen Familien aus den umliegenden Dörfern erwartet. Diese Familien sind ausgerüstet mit einem Fensterkratzer und einer Flasche Seifenwasser. Für einige Pesos reinigen sie die Windschutzscheiben und Scheinwerfer der parkenden Autos. Die Jüngsten sind vielleicht gerade 5 Jahre alt. Manchmal wacht ein Opa über seine Enkel und erteilt ihnen Aufgaben. Andere Familien bauen kleine Imbissbuden auf, aus Pappe und allem Material, was sie irgendwo finden können. Dort bieten sie ihr hausgemachtes Essen an: Maiskolben mit saurer Sahne und Gewürzen, Tacos, Suppen, usw. Andere wiederum, die etwas besser gestellt sind, kommen mit dem eigenen Auto an und verkaufen Honig, Süßigkeiten, Brot oder Kunstgewerbe. Der Strom der vorbeifahrenden Autos nimmt mit der Dunkelheit ab, aber jetzt kommt die Zeit der Trucks. Die lauten Maschinen dröhnen durch die Nacht, nur gegen Morgen, kurz vor Sonnenaufgang herrscht Ruhe. Casetas sind sicher nicht mein Lieblingsplatz, um die Nacht zu verbringen, aber sie scheinen uns sicher, da 24h lang Menschen da sind und es gibt immer Wasser und Snacks zu kaufen. Außerdem ist es immer interessant, die Menschen zu beobachten.

Umgeben von Mexikos höchsten Bergen

Toluca war unser nächster Halt. Glücklicherweise fanden wir ein billiges Hotel, dort blieben wir drei Nächte. Wir benötigten etwas Ruhe, bevor wir uns auf Nebenstrassen in die 3000-4000 Meter hohen Berge wagten. So nah an der Hauptstadt (nur ca. 50 km entfernt), wollten wir die Hauptstrassen meiden. Es gab so viel Verkehr und die Städte hatten keinen Anfang und kein Ende, es schien, als ob es eine einzige riesige Stadt wäre, mit stark und weniger dicht besiedelten Gebieten. Weiter fuhren wir bergan, weg vom Lärm und Gestank in die frische Luft hinauf. Die Aufstieg war harmlos, so dass wir relativ früh unser Tagesziel erreichten, wieder mal verbrachten wir die Nacht auf einer Baustelle am Ende eines Dorfes.  Es war eine schöne Fahrt, durch das was wie eine Hügellandschaft aussah, in Wirklichkeit waren es Gipfel von über 3000m Höhe. Die Dörfer hier waren eher ursprünglich und es gab weniger Autos und Traktoren, stattdessen Pferde und Handwägen. Ein kleines Dorf stach uns besonders ins Auge: die wenigen Häuser, besser gesagt Hütten, waren aus Stoffen, Folie, einigen Holzstücken und Steinen zusammengezimmert. Eine große Meute abgemagerter Hunde rannte vor uns davon. Acht, neun oder waren es gar zehn in Lumpen gehüllte Kinder beobachteten uns durch eine Zaunlücke.

Das Hochplateau, das wir in den letzen Tagen erklommen hatten endete abrupt. Unser Blick wanderte hinab über steile Felsterrassen, auf denen kleine Felder angelegt waren, hin zu den Bergketten am Horizont. Irgendwo hinter diesen Bergen muss der Pazifik liegen… Obwohl es mehr bergab als bergauf ging war der Tag anstrengend. Wir folgten dem Rand des Hochplateaus hinab nach Cuernavaca. Fingergleich schoben sich Hügelketten in das Flachland. Jede Bergabfahrt wurde gefolgt von einem steilen Aufstieg. Entsprechen erschöpft machten wir eher Mittagspause als geplant, anschließend hielten wir fast bis ins Stadtzentrum von Guernavaca die Bremshebel fest umklammert. Auf der üblichen Suche nach einer Übernachtungsmöglichkeit fuhren wir durch die Stadt. Später schlenderten wir über die Plaza auf der Suche nach Essen. Es war Feiertag in Mexiko und in den Strassen herrschte dichtes Menschengedränge, überall waren Stände mit Essen, Kunsthandwerk, Schnitzerein oder Kinderspielzeug. Es war eine ziemliche Herauforderung, mit einem kleinen Kind an all diesen Verlockungen entlang zu spazieren. Während wir uns eine Tasse Kaffe genehmigten, hörten wir den Straßenmusikern zu und genossen ein Klassikkonzert im Cazebocenter.

In den Klauen von Popocatepetl

Aus der Stadt herauszufahren war wie immer sehr stressig, nicht nur mental, sondern auch für Augen, Nase und die Lungen. Wir mussten uns entscheiden, ob wir die Schnellstrasse durch weniger bergiges Gelände Richtung Puebla nehmen oder die Landstasse, nahe am Vulkan Popocatepetl (5465m) entlang. Da wir genug von den Bergen hatten, nahmen wir die Schnellstrasse. So schnell als möglich wollten wir alle Drei den Golf von Mexiko erreichen, besonders Chan freute sich schon auf das Meer. Auf dieser Strasse war der Seitenstreifen aus rotem Schotter und gerade mal so breit wie der Anhänger. Zudem hatten wir zwei Platten am Anhänger, die zu flicken ziemlich gefährlich war, da wir kaum Platz hatten. Ein Lkw schoss vorbei, nur wenige Zentimeter vom Anhänger. Ich hatte genug und sagte Flo, dass wir dann doch lieber die Strecke Richtung Vulkan nehmen, was für eine Wahl hatten wir sonst? Den nächsten Tag hatte ich Krämpfe, nach nur 20 km konnte ich nicht mehr weiter und so blieben wir auf dem teuersten Campingplatz der bisherigen Reise. Wenigstens wurden wir mit der Aussicht auf den schneebedeckten Popocatepetl entschädigt. Chan hatte eine Schaukel und einen Swimmingpool zum Spielen. Der Campingplatzbesitzer gab uns eine Tüte voll Orangen und Avocados.

Den nächsten Tag ging es mir viel besser, das war auch gut so, denn die Strasse führte nach 200 Metern steil bergauf. Nach nur 7 km machten wir gleich im nächsten Dorf eine Pause. Dort riet man uns, die rechte Strasse zu nehmen und wir flogen geradezu ins Tal. Flo war das nicht geheuer und wir fragten noch jemand anderen nach der Richtung. Eine gute Sache in Mexiko, zehn verschiede Menschen geben einem zehn verschiedene Wegbeschreibungen zu einem und demselben Ort. Nur, wenn man eine Beschreibung mindestens zweimal bekommt, kann man davon ausgehen, dass sie in etwa stimmt. Natürlich mussten wir auch in diesem Fall zurück (bergauf) und einem anderen Tal folgen. Auch diese Strecke führte bald bergab und auf der gegenüberliegenden Seite der Schlucht konnten wir die Strasse sehen, wie sie sich wieder bergauf wand.

Unsere Stimmung war ziemlich gedrückt. Wir brauchten den ganzen Tag, um gerade mal 20 km zurückzulegen, bei einer Durchschnittsgeschwindigkeit von 7km/h. Auch die letzten Meter ging es steil bergauf. Erschöpft fragten wir an einer Tischlerei, die uns empfohlen worden war, ob wir hier übernachten dürften. Zuerst sagten die Arbeiter, dass wir die nächste Stadt in einer guten Stunde erreichen könnten, da die Strecke von nun an recht flach wäre und bald alles asphaltiert wäre. Was bald alles, d.h. Teile der Strasse sind nicht asphaltiert? Eine Sorge mehr für den nächsten Tag. Ich erklärte ihnen, dass wir den ganzen Tag für die Strecke vom vorletzten Dorf bis hierher gebraucht hatten. Mit offenen Mündern hörten sie zu und konnten nicht glauben, was wir erzählten. Mit dem Auto war es doch weniger als eine Stunde. Wir konnten bleiben und Chan hatte seine helle Freude beim Spielen im Sägemehl. Wir bauten eine Rutsche für ein paar Holzrollen, die er gefunden hatte und schauten, wie weit die jedes Mal rollten.

Schnell war der nächste Morgen angebrochen und die Strasse führte weiterhin steil bergauf, so steil dass wir stellenweise die Räder schieben mussten. Und wie gewarnt, endete bald der Asphalt und statt dessen war die Strasse nun mit Flusssteinen gepflastert. Sogar auf leicht abschüssigen Abschnitten konnten wir uns nicht schneller als mit Schrittgeschwindigkeit vorwärtsbewegen. Natürlich ging es die meiste Zeit bergauf, oft musste ich mein Fahrrad abstellen und Flo helfen, den Trailer zu schieben. Allein die Sicht war fantastisch und der Mühen wert, ebenso die Menschen die wir sahen. Manche zu Pferd, andere wiederum zu Fuß, beladen mit schweren Bündeln, einige hatten Ochsen oder Zugpferde für ihre Lasten. Im nächsten Dorf erfuhren wir, dass die Strasse ab jetzt durchgängig asphaltiert sei. Zwei Kilometer lang brausten wir auf neuem Asphalt ins Tal, als dieser plötzlich endete und der Straßenbelag aus grobem Schotter bestand. Florian, der Arme, hatte es doppelt schwer, da er den Anhänger zog. Chan tat uns ebenfalls leid, er wurde in seinem Anhänger mächtig durchgeschüttelt. Aber wir mussten weiter. Bald wurde aus der Schotterstrasse ein Feldweg und ich musste Flo immer wieder schieben helfen. Erstaunlich viele Leute waren auf der Strasse unterwegs und immer wieder wurden wir gefragt: ” Das ist anstrengend, nicht war!?” Meist lächelten wir zurück: “Si, si!” Wahrscheinlich hielten sie uns für komplett verrückt. Viele wollten uns zurück auf die Schnellstrasse schicken, von der wir kamen, aber nun, wo wir es schon so weit geschafft hatten, gab es für uns kein zurück mehr.

Ab der nächsten Ortschaft, war die Strasse endlich wieder asphaltiert. Es gab nur eine Fahrspur, aber es ging bergab! Juhuuuu! Doch die Freude war nicht von langer Dauer, zwar war die Strasse weiterhin asphaltiert, aber sie führte wieder bergauf, entlang eines weiteren Canons. Wir freuten uns schon auf unsere Mittagspause im nächsten Ort, doch am Ortseingang erwartetet uns eine neue Überraschung, die Durchgangsstrasse wurde gerade gebaut, die Umleitung war nur grob gepflastert. Es ging bergab und wieder bergauf, immer schön im Wechsel. Flo war stinksauer und raste in vollem Tempo über das Pflaster, der Trailer tanzte und hüpfte wie wild hinterher. Ich folgte im etwas vorsichtiger, denn an meinem Rad hatte sich bereits ein Lowrider (Halterung fuer die Taschen am Vorderrad) durch das Gerüttel gelockert. Nach einer Weile hielt Flo an, sein Gesicht war blass vor lauter Ärger. Vor uns ging es die steilste Kehre hinauf, die wir je gesehen hatten. Flo sagte Chan, er solle aus dem Anhänger klettern, aber auch Chan hatte die Nase voll und begann zu weinen. Flo nahm mein Rad und schob es hinauf. Ich versuchte Chan zu beruhigen und erklärte ihm, was los ist. Anschließend schoben Flo und ich sein Fahrrad mit dem Hänger hinauf. Chan lief neben uns, müde und verunsichert heulte er lauthals. Auf dem Gipfel angekommen war der Straßenbelag nicht mehr felsig, sondern glatt, fast wie Asphalt. Flo musste sich erst mal wieder erholen, ich kümmerte mich um Chan und wir alle hatten Hunger. Als wir uns alle beruhigt hatten, fuhren wir die letzten Meter zur Plaza hinab und kauften etwas zum Mittagessen. Nach einer ausgedehnten Pause fuhren wir die letzte Etappe des Tages, 15 km in weniger als einer Stunde. Es ging bergab und es war asphaltiert, obwohl es viele Schlaglöcher gab. Aber all das war nichts, gegen die vergangenen zwei Tage. In Atlixco suchten wir uns ein Hotel und pausierten einen Tag.

Gebeamt

Die Strecke bis zum Golf von Mexiko verlief unspektakulär. Wir fuhren 270km in drei Tagen und fühlten uns, als hätte man uns in die Tropen gebeamt. Die eine Nacht noch einpackt in Jacke und Hut, umgeben von 5000m hohen Vulkanen, die nächste schwitzend im Zelt, wo sogar die Zudecke überflüssig war.

Von Puebla an ging es fast nur bergab. Wir fuhren die Schnellstrasse, gut ausgebaut mit ebenfalls gutem Seitenstreifen. Tausende Fahrradfahrer und einige Läufer kamen uns entgegen, gefolgt von Servicefahrzeugen. Sie waren auf Pilgerfahrt zur Jungfrau von Guadeloupe nach Mexiko City.

Wir verbrachten eine laute Nacht im Scheinwerferlicht eines Geschäftes, da der Manager der Mautstation dies als sichersten Platz für uns auserkoren hatte. Steil bergab sausten wir, huiiii durch vier Tunnel hindurch und vorbei an drei Lkws, huii bergab, bergab. Die Luft wurde dicker und schwerer, es war feucht und heiß. Das Gezwitscher der Vögel klang anders, wie aus dem Dschungel und wie Dschungel sah auch die Vegetation um uns aus.

Nun sind wir in Veracruz. Es war schwer ein Hotel zu finden, denn es ist Fasching! Wir werden noch eine weitere Nacht bleiben. Chan spielt gerade vergnügt am Strand mit Flo. Was wir dringend brauchen, ist ein guter Bikeshop. Flo’s Kette ist auf den letzen Metern in die Stadt hinein gerissen.

Green lawns and houses on stilts

“You need a visa mister!”, the officer looked at Florian with a face of stone. “No, I don’t think so, Swiss don’t need a visa, do they?”, Flo answered. “Yes sir, Swiss need a visa for Belize!” So we got our stamps from the Mexican officer and rode our bikes over the bridge to the Belizan immigration. Chan and I went through quite fast, as Canadians we didn’t need any visa. Flo had to pay 50US$ for a 30day visitor visa. His paperwork took a while and luckily we found an old passport picture of his which they took. We spent probably an hour at the immigration office, but we were lucky to be able to get Flo’s visa right there.

Something was strikingly different here in Belize, but what? Then suddenly we realized that there was hardly any garbage alongside the road. Everything was clean, no dust either. The land was cultivated, mostly with sugar cane. There were no cartboard houses either. Most houses are built with wood and they are on stilts. The british influence is obvious too. People are looking after their nice green lawns and flower beds and some houses are decorated in victorian style.

There wasn’t much traffic and we enjoyed the ride. We spent our first night in Belize in Corozal, only about 15km away from the border. When we walked back to the hotel after dinner, the sky was one big firework. Huge lightening strokes were speeding over the sky in white and purple colours almost every second. After about a 30minute spectacle the rain hit with a sudden impact.

Hotel and Krokodile hunt

It was a beautiful day again, not much traffic and no hills, an easy ride. I was dreaming while watching the landscape go by. Suddenly I shuddered. What was that in this pond right next to the highway? “Hey Flo!”, I called, “Did you see that too?” “Yeah, I hoped you would miss it!”, he smiled at me through his back mirror. “It was as long as I’m tall!”, he added. So it was true, we were in krokodile country now. This one wasn’t lucky enouth to be able to read the warning sign about the underwater cables and probably thought they were find food. Now it was swimming belly up. It’s size made me wonder, if we should really go on that boat trip to some ruins, krokodile sights promised.

First we looked for a cheap hotel in Orange Walk. The first one was ok, though the room was tiny. We thought that we could maybe find a better place. The second hotel didn’t even have a sign up. The house looked like it wouldn’t hold up another day. The wind was bulging the curtains, more hole than fabric, out of the windows without mosquito screen. The price was the same. The third hotel was much over our budget. A taxi slowed next to us and the driver recommended another hotel about five minutes away, which he thought was the best place in town. So we went to check it out as well. It was hot and this one had a pool, but the room was so small, that only one bed fit and there was no space for a camping mattress. The price was the same. After one hour riding arround we ended up at the first hotel again. There at the check in was Markus, a german cyclist we had met at the intersection to Palenque.

Markus joined us for the boat trip to Lamanai, one of the most important Mayan Ruins in Belize. Our boat was full with 16 gringos. Our captain, as Chan called him, was our guide as well. Food was provided for our 7 hour adventure. I was surprised how populated the river was. It seemed like we entered noman’s-jungle land, but in every niche at the river bank were people fishing or bathing. Behind every curve was another boat or wooden canoe.

We passed a sugar refinery and one of the cane boats on its way there. About half way we passed a Mennonite community. Their religion doesn’t allow them to marry outside of their community. So they all look pretty much the same, not only because they all wear the same. They have blond hair, blue eyes are skinny and tall. The community we passed was conservative, that means, they are not taking part in modern civilisation. One rule is not to use any electrical tools or engines. We didn’t quite understand the logic of those rules, since they do use tractors on the fields.

Our guide showed us different kinds of birds, one of them was walking over the water on searose petals. We saw a special kind of bat hiding on a tree trunk and then our first baby krokodile taking arest on some branches stiking out of the water. It took me a while to find it. How could our guide have seen it, steering the boat with full speed? Anyway, he wanted to know if any of was were interested in a swim with the cute reptile? He offered to take a picture.

We saw a few more baby krokodiles and the eyes of some bigger ones, which disappeard quickly when we approached them. The whole ride took 2 hours. A long time for a three year old. But he enjoyed the krokodiles and playing with another swiss guy or munching cookies we had bought specially for the trip. At the ruins we had lunch first. People ate like birds while Flo and I helped ourselves more than once due to our biker stomachs!

The Lamanai ruins weren’t as impressive as others we had visited. It was interesting though to listen to the guides comments. He pointed out plants on the paths between the structures. The “give and take” plant is full of thorns, if punctured by one of them, it will give you instant muscle akes and a high fever. They only stop, if the plant is cut and the sap put onto the wound. One of the pyramids was quite high and steep to climb. Since I’m afraid of heights I wondered if I should go up. But then we started climbing. Going up wasn’t a big deal though once on the top I started feeling dizzy and had to sit down. Flo and Chan came behind me. Chan climbed it all by himself. The view was just amazing but I feared one of us would thumble down, not a good ending for our journey! I wanted to go back down. Flo took some pictures and then he walked down step by step, carrying Chan on one arm, as if he was just walking in the street. I was sweating and my legs felt like pudding. I was holding on to the rope provided as thight as I could, slowly getting down. Rene, the Swiss guy said:” That fear comes with age!”

Belizan Zoo

I’m not a fan of zoo’s, so Flo took Chan to the Belizan zoo, which is said to be the best in Latin America. Apparantly all the animals there were rescued in one way or the other, if not born behind the bars. A lot of people think its cute to have a pet monkey, krokodile or even jaguar. Such animals, if discovered are getting a new home at the zoo as well as orphaned wildlife.

Chan love to see all the animals. His eyes were sparkling and his cheeks red when he came back and he immitated the sound of the howler monkeys for me and described the jaguar as a big, big, big cat lying on a branch up in a tree.

We were staying at the Monkey Bay Wildlife Sanctuary about two miles west of the zoo. Like usual, some parts of our equipment needed to be fixed and I was writing on the blog while the two men visited the zoo. It was a beautiful and quiet spot to get rested and we ate awesome food there too.

Hummingbird Highway

Entering the hills past belmopan was enering into a different world. The first two small hills framed the highway like a gate into jungle land on Hummingbird Highway. Up and down teh road wound its way like a snake through dark red-brown rocks and dirt decorated with bright green junlge foilage.

St. Herman´s cave contrasted the hot, bright outside with a cool darkness. We needed a flashlight to find the path into the earth´s womb. Accomanied by the solen sound of an underground river, we had to feel our way into darkness. There were stalagmites and stalaktites and millions of miniature cristales sparkeled in the beam of our flashlight. Chan wasn´t too sure about this dark hole. He wanted to be arried all teh way in and our and only found his adventure spirit again back at the entrance. Flo asked him:”How did you like the cave Chan?”, and Chan answered:”You know, it was too dark down there!” So we went to a more enjoyable place for him, the Blue Hole. This is a cenote, a water filled limestone sinkhole, fed by underground streams. The water´s colour was an inviting blue and the three of us went for a swimm in the delicious cool water.

It was hard work pushing the bikes over the ever steeper getting hills towards the caribbean sea again. The steepest hills awaited us just after the small community of “over the top”. Somehow this name didn´t make sense to us. When we finally reached fltter parts, we stopped at a gas station for a cold drink. A Belizan stepped out of his car, which was tied to his friends car, and said: “So you like bikin, eh?” “Yeah.” 2Where did you rent em bikes?” “Oh, they´re ours, we came from Canada.” “So where did you fly to, to Belize City?” “No, we biked from Canada.” “Yeah, yeah, bla, bla, bla, ha, ha, …, ??? You mean for real? Holy shit! You’re mad man. No way! How long ‘it take you, three weeks?” “No, more like seven months, canada is quite far away.” He turned around to swear some more, than he said:” You are jus mad man, Not for money not for nothin ‘d I put my ass on a bike! You’ re crazy man!” He walked back to his car still swearing.

Caribbean beaches

Florian wanted some haning out at the beach for himself and Chan. Another swiss biking couple had enjoyed Placencia quite a bit and so we decided to visit it as well. About 40 km north of this laid back beach community we found ourselves on a bumpy dirt road, our first longer off pavement experience. It took quite some concentration to not ride into the many potholes and to keep balance on washboard surface and slippery dirt. Our speed was at its lowest.

You think you are away from it all, riding on such a bad road for as long as we did. But half way through we reached the beaches and turend south onto a narrow landstrip between the caribbean sea and a lagoon. Soon we passed private property signs and there tehy were: private villas, castle like side by side, making the beautiful beaches unreachable for public use. Then the resorts came up. One uglier than the next one. Do people really want to spend their vacations in such tastless complexes? What’s the impact on the delicate ecosystem with so much building, burning vegetation and sand shifting going on, we asked ourselves. American and Canadian companies bought up the land to build their resorts, where Belizans won’t be welcome unless they are “upper class”, we were told. We could only shake our heads and our spirits rose only again after we arrived at “campin on the beach” in Placencia.

We stayed three days, took a swimm in the turqois blue water, strolled along the beach under palm trees and just hung around. Chan built sand hotels- and airplanes. He was constipatet too because of all that white refined bread, rice and pasta you get down here. For the past days he had refused to eat any fruits or veggies unless they were in an ice cold smoothy.

Wet, hot and dirty

“No, I don´t think your bikes will fit in the water taxi. The boats are small you know.”, said a guy at the dock. “But we talked to some captains the other day and tehy said it was no problem. Are you a captain as well?”, I asked. ” No, I’m just working in the store here, you need to talk to one of the captains. The next boat to Mango Creek leaves in 30 minutes.” The man turned around and walked back into his shed like store. More people arrived and then the hokey pokey water taxi appeared. The captain looked at the bikes and said: “No problem, just take all teh bags off them.” He opened a hatch and put all the panniers in there, then he helped us lifting the bikes and the trailer on board. A short ride through mangroves brought us back to main land Belize.

On pavement we continued our ride towards Punta Gorda on the southern tip of belize. Florian kept turning around to study teh sky or rather the black clouds closing in on us. “Just ride fast!”, I called. I got annoyed by his turning around because he was riding a lot slower like this. But he stopped completley and said:” Quick, put the raincove on the trailer!” I turned around too this time and saw a white curtain speeding towards us. I jumped off my bike and as soon as the cover wason the trailer, the first heavy drops hit the plastic. When I had finished covering the backpacks on teh bikes, Flo and I were soaked. It was kind of fun being dripping wet because it cooled us a little. It had been crazy hot once again and once the rain stopped it didn´t take long for us to dry. But it didn´t take long either to be completley soaked again. it kept happening that day and by the fifth time I didn’t think it was funny anymore. We had planned to stop for the day in a village marked with a bigger dot on our map than the others. There just wasn’t any village really, just a few houses, mostly made of palm branches and palm leafes. We continued to ride and finally there was a sign for a ranger station of aone of the many Belizan nature reserevs. We stopped, completley wet of course, and asked, if we could camp UNDER the house. We could and as soon as we had parked our bikes under the house on stilts, the next rainshower hit. We hung up our wet clothes, the wet tent and the wet rain covers and were happy to have found such a good and dry place for the night.

The next morning it rained. We waited a little, but there was no hope that the rain would stop soon, so we put our rain jackets on and hit the road. After only about 3km, the road turned into a gravel-dirt road. For only 9 miles, we were told, and then its all paved again. We rolled slowly, but there wasn’t much traffic and the road wasn’t as bad as the one to Placencia.

In a curve on the bottom of a hill was bus stuck in the ditch. The passengers were all standing arround, the driver stod in front of his bus smiling at us. 9miles (15km) seemed like 20, but finally we made it, after a few more “white curtains” overtaking us. It seems like the rest of the ride, all on pavement, should have been easy. But now there was no rain anymore, the sun burnt with all her meight and we ran our of power and water. hen we arrived in Punta Gorda we were completely exhausted and I had to run to a tienda for an ice cold emergency lemonade, only then we could tackle the “hotel hunt”! We took the second one and hoped into the shower. Yeah, right, we wanted to, but the room had to be cleaned first and we had to wait outside for half an hour before we could finally carry our bags in and get refreshed. Then we went for a stroll through the village to get information about the boats leaving for Livingstone in Guatemala.

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The crossing

“Flo this is a rather small boat and look how its bobbning up and down on those big waves. How will it be possible to load the trailer?”, I said. “Don’t worry, they are doing this every day!”, Flo replied. But I was worried a lot. The waves were quite high and I had imagened a bigger boat for the trip on the open water to Guatemala.

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Then the bikes, bags and finally the trailer were loaded. I couldn’t watch them lifting the trailer from the high dock down to the dancing boat, but they made it. While our luggage was being loaded, other people filled the seats of the boat and only the bench in teh very front remained for us. As soon as everybody was seated, we took off. The captain handed a black plastic to the one’s on Flo’s side. They had to hold it up over their heads for protection from the water splashes. Hah! Not even 3 minutes out on sea and we were all soaked, especially me with no plastic for protection and sitting in the very front. Chan was scared and I was scared. In the row behind us was a woman constantly murmuring prayers. I wanted to scream or jump our, I wanted to stop thathell of a boat ride! We slammed down every wave and crushed into the bench. My back hurt and I couldn’t move my fingers of the one hand convulsivly holding on to a bar. Chan was holding my other hand and his head was buried under Flo’s arm pit. Flo remained calm as is his nature in such situations. He had to hold the trailer which was baning against us with every wave. Then the motor stopped and we were seasawing on the big waves, up and down. Everybody was silent, even the praying woman. The mate looked at his boss rising one eyebrow slightly. The captain was fumbling with some bottles and plying with the engine for a few scary minutes and finally it started again. For two hours we got douched every minute and slammed into our benches every two seconds. For two hours I tried to escape at least mentally from this nightmare by singing children’s songs silently and talking to my father and friends in my thoughts, imagining their calming words. What a relief when I could make out land! “From here we could at least swmm to land.”, I thought. But we arrived at the dock in Livingstone and nobody went overboard, all our luggage was still there too.

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On dock we didn’t pack the bikes. Chan and I watched our belongings, while Flo went to deal with the immigration. Then we organized another boat ride up Rio Dulce. Yes, another boat ride. Chan was still up for it, when we reassured him, that on the river weren’t any heavy waves anymore. After some rest and a picknick we loaded the bikes again onto another boat. For this ride we had hired a boat just for ourselves. The offical one was leaving mid afternoon and we couldn’t reserve a space. Now it was a bit more expensive, but we didn’t have to wait for hours in the sun. We were looking foreward to Casa Perico, a jungle hotel at the River, run by three Swiss guys. We had heard, that it was a peaceful place to hang out for a few days.

And that’s just what we did. Besides the usual chores of cleaning and oiling the bikes, chekcing for loose screws, cleaning out the trailer, which was a bit deformed from teh crossing and needed some bending as well, we took time for canoe rides and reading books in a hammock.

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Consequences of the crossing

The second day on the raod in Guatemala, Flo got diarrhea, the next day I had it too. It seemed like Guatemala was just another pinch hoter than Belize. We only rode in the mornings from around 7am to 11am, tehn we needed rest and shade. Usually we slept the whole afternoon in a hotel room, cooled by a ventilator and only got up to cook dinner.

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It was semana santa and most tiendas were closed as well as the markets. We wanted to get bananas because of our diarrhea, but all we could find was white bread. Now we were really low on food and with those high temperatures we couldn’t have carried supplies on fruits and veggies anyway. All the little restaurants only served meat dishes. So we pretty much only ate crackers or white bread during the day and mangoes and coconuts from street stands. For dinner we cooked our remaining pasta with tomato paste only or rice with bouillon. It took five days for our stomachs to work normally again. By that time we had made it past Rio Hondo and visited a dinosaur museum in Estanzuela. There wer two dinosaur skeletons an display as well as a grey whale one. “Mama look! those bones aren’t friendly ones!” Chan exclaimed. “Yes, they look a bit scary, don’t they.”, I said. “These bones don’t live anymore, you know. They would need a body around them to be alive. You have bones, a skeleton under your skin as well. Look here, these were the legs of the dinosaur. Can you feel your legs? There is something hard underneath the skin, right? That’s your bones.” Like this we went on talking about all the different bones we could see on the skeleton and looked for the relating ones on our bodies. We stayed for a whole hour in the small museum.

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From Chiquimuls the road wound its way up into mountenous regions. For some kilometers it must have had grades of 15% to 20%!

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On our last morning in Guatemala we were ready for the ride at 7am but something was wrong with Flo’s bike. The derailleur was too close to the spokes. Somehow the part fo the frame, where the derailleur is attached to, was bent. It took a while for us to figure it out. This must have happened on the boat crossing as well. We just don’t understand how we didn’t discover it earlier. Anyway, after an hour of fideling around, Flo thought we could try to ride. The valleys we travelled through were shaped in beautiful sickle like shapes, the hills were covered with pine trees growing on red earth. But the road was again really steep in places and wound its way mostly uphill towards mountainous Honduras.

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On one of those hills Flo’s bike suddenly went: “Clack, clack, clack!” Then he couldn’t move anymore. He started calling words and when we had a look at his back wheel, we found the derailleur all twisted and entangled in the spokes! Flo unhooked the chain and took the derailleur out of the spokes then we pushed the bikes up the hill and parked mine. We let Chan our of the trailer and he was immediately occupied mowing grass with a stick. Then we unloaded Flo’s bike andhe took his back wheel off. The part where the derailleur was attached to the frame was heavily bent. A moped slowed next to us and the friendly Guatemalan asked if we needed help. Then he said, that there was a mechanic about one kilometer up the raod. A few hundred meters up the raod were some street workers and Flo went to see if he could borrow a hammer. Two of them came to have a look at his bike, then one of them went to get a pick. The three of them hammered on Flo’s bike to bend that piece of the frame at least enough so that the derailleur could work again. Now Flo could ride his bike again, but he coulden’t shift into his lowest gears. In this terrain that meant, that I had to pull the trailer now.

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I jsut made it to El Florido, 3km further, at the border to Honduras, but only with Flo pushing me uphill. There we took a lunch break, changed our money and dealt with the immigration, before we continued with the last 12km to Copan Ruinas.

Right after the border the road led uphill again. After one km I started to cry. I just couldn’t do this. My legs hurt, there wasn’t enough power in them to pull the trailer. It was impossible. I don’t know how flo does it, he seems to do it with such ease, but it’s really, really hard! So I waited and Flo rode part of the way up. Then he ran back and pushed me with the trailer. Piece for piece we made it up. A short stretch Chan was even walking and he said: “Mama I’m helping you pushing the trailer!” It was our last hill and then we cruised down the curvey road to Copan Ruinas, where we are staying right now taking spanish classes.

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Jungle retreat and sugar cane country

When we left Veracruz the strong northwind was at work. We got pushed arround on our bikes, even Flo with the trailer and somethimes had to wait for a gust of wind to siminish before we could peddel a few 100 meters. We didn’t ride far, the sky promised rain and we weren’t in the mood for a wet tent (our tent floor is leaking). So we looked for a hotel. The only one in our prize range was quite shabby, but there was no choice. The room had no window, the promised hot water was cold. Something was leaking out of the bathroom on to the bedroom floor, growing into a smelly puddle. The air humid and not exactly fresh. Next morning Flo had a flat tire.

Over the next few days it seemed like the weather just couldn’t decide for sun or rain and we kept changing in and out of our raingear. The air was always humid and warm. We were always feeling sticky. Two days brought us up into vulcanous regions again on 300 meters above sea to the Laguna de Catemaco.

The Bahia Escondido, a jungle retreat to fill up empty “travel batteries” at the lake side, had been recommended to us by a Swiss guy. He had seen us riding through town shortly before it got dark and followed us. He said:” I know a place for you to camp, a good place for a child to play…” That night we spent in a hotel, to tired to ride another 10km. But the next day we headed over there, meaning to spend one night. We ended up staying three!

Chan enjoyed playing at the water with Flo and I cleaned the trailer, fixed some clothes and cleaned and oiled the bikes. The sun had won the battle against the rain clouds and so we relaxed in the shade of the jungle. Chan found a book about the fauna of the area and was fascinated by the picture of howler monkeys. He loved the jaguars and turtles too. We learned that the cell phones we heard along the highway were actually birds calls and we saw a baby tarantula up close for the first time!

Then we left the jugle for the flatlands and sugar cane fields between Veracruz and Villahermosa. There are refineries in most towns and a steady drizzle of black sugar cane ashes settled on our skin and clothes. Small trucks, overloaded with cane sticks passed us, loosing part of their load to the side of the road. The air was filled with a sweet smell, almost to sweet for our noses.

One after the other

One night we arrived in a town just before it got dark and looked for a hotel. Flo was carrying our packs upstairs while I was parking our bikes in the tiny lobby. Some nice mexican gentleman helped me lift the trailer over the doorsill. When we wanted to put it back down I got really scared. The wheels were haning down in a funny looking way. I called Flo, still holding the trailer in the air, not trusting those wheels to hold the weight of the shell. Flo came running down the stairs and looked the trailer over. He put the wheels into their right position and said:” It’s not all that bad I think, we’ll have a closer look up in our room. When everything was upstairs, we turned the vent on and hoped into the shower to get rid of the black slime sticking to our skin. Then we needed to fill our bellies and finally refreshed we had a second look at the trailer. The screw holding the suspencion in place was broken, one part of it still stuck in the trailer shell. The trailer could still roll. We just had to find a new screw and get the broken part out of the shell. We were planning on taking this on in Coatzocoalcos, where we had been invited to by Luis, a young mexican who had passed us in his car a few weeks earlier. When we arrived in the city, Luis had just moved into a new place. He picked us up at the Plaza and drove us and the bikes to his house.

After dinner he had a look at the trailer, a ship mechanic himself and then fixed it together with Flo. He had all the necessary tools on hand. The days had become almost unbearably hot, but luckily the airstream while bikeing cooled us a little. The highway was now really bad. We were back on the coata, which was worked on in some places. The surface ws ruff with big potholes or gravel, even rocks on the broken pavement. It was really uneven too with sudden drops or bumps. Riding in the back I didn’t see one of these drops and one of my lowrider bags went flying and my front wheel blocked. We didn’t figure out what happened to the wheel right away. But when Flo, our bike mechanic took a better look he found the wheel not true anymore. It was so bad, that he had to adjust it right away. While he fixed it trucks where rushing by, Chan played with his cars and I assisted whenever one of them needed a hand.

The day was getting hotter and hotter. We had lunch in the shade of an elefant shaped tree at a lonely gas station and we drank 1.5 liters ice cold mango juice – gone in only a few minutes. When we rode on, my belly started to feel a bit wired. We passed swamps which smelled awful.

I started to feel a bit sick. At a highway restaurant we stopped for the night. After an ice cream I felt a bit better. Flo rode into the close village and I started cooking in the shade of a palapa. The land in these parts is mostly swamps and they really smell bad, or was it the sewage of the restaurant? Again I started to feel sick. I coldn’t eat much and needed to lay down. So Flo cleaned up and I put up the tent. Suddenly swarms of mosquitoes attacked us. Chan and I fled into the tent, I couldn’t move anymore. I felt horrible. Poor Flo was now the only target for the aggressive mosquitoes. Chan didn’t really understand that his Mama was sick. He kept saying, that I was just a bit tired. Flo had just finished getting our beds ready when I puked the first time. Luckily we had some empty plastic bags on hand. Flo put Chan to bed who was fascinated by me puking. I needed a few more bags during the night. It was terrible. Once a man came from the restaurant, telling us, that our tent was in a very bad spot. That there was an animal arround with a deadly sting. It wasn’t a skorpion nor a spider, we didn’t understand what kind of animal it was nor could we move everything at that point. We never encountered that dangerous animal. Luckily there was a hotel in the close by village where we stayed the next day. I was really weak and couldn’t eat much, but my stomach was now stable.

Until we reached Villahermosa we had about two flats a day and my back rack broke where it is attached to the frame of the bike. It was an easy job to weld. Flo bought new tires, his were already worn through again.

Stone heads and pyramids

The La Venta park in Villa Hermosa was a nice break from the almost unbearable heat of the early afternoon. The park nicely shaded by jugle growth, presents huge sculptered human figures and altars of the Olmec culture which flourished about 1150-150 BC. One of those heads weighs 20 tons!

This park also features some of the regions animals like spider monkeys, parots and ozelots (jaguar like wildcat, size of a big house cat). It was almost impossible to get Chan away from the monkey cage. He was fascinated by the “Chanmonkeys” riding on their “Mamamonkey’s” backs.

From Villahermosa to the intersection for Palenque there wasn’t much change in the landscape. The ride also wasn’t very pleasant because the road was under construction in some parts while other parts were really bad and narrow. We were passed frequently by by big double semi remolque trucks and had no shoulder.

Chan’s sandals and rainboots found a new home with people we could stay along the way. That kid just grows unbelievably fast, so fast, that people arround here think he must at least be fiveyyears old!

On the road to Palenque wild growling sounds came out of trees. We shouddered by the thought of hungry jaguars, but luckily they are too shy to be sitting high up in trees nect to the highway like howler monkeys do!

It had been raining on and off. Once we fled under the roof of a welder to escape one of the worst downspouts. Later we didn’t care too much anymore. We just wanted to reach town and find a place to stay. It had already been a long day and on top of it a screw on my lowrider broke and we had to fix the lowrider to the frame with a strap.

So Chan was the only one staying dry. This time the pouring rain didn’t sop after a few minutes. In fact, it didn’t stop at all anymore that day! We pushed our bikes into the hallway of hotel. Everything was dripping including Flo and me. When our bags were up in our room and the bikes and trailer locked up, the onwer of the place was sweeing up the puddle we had left behind us.

We spent the next day fixing my bike, doing laundry, stocking up with food and e-mailing, before we headed out of town to El Panchan about 5km away at the entrance of the park to the Palenque ruins. During that day we fixed 5 flats on the trailer, the last one only just before we reached El Panchan.

We rented a cabaña in this quiet jungle hideout. While eating dinner we met a german family with two kids. The eight year old girl really enjoyed reading stories to Chan and just play with him and Chan had a compagnon he could understand quite well for once.

We didn’t enter through the main gate but instead followed a trail up to the site from the bottom of the hill. Like this we first discovered residental ruins of the ancient city which were small but a good start to climb and explore. Chan loved it and wanted to see more ruins.

So we climbed incredibly steep steps up through dense forest and entered a huge grassy area with the bigger and more famous pyramids spread over it. Chan immediatly wanted to climb the tallest one, but it was closed to visitors. Instead we explored El Palacio, the politically most imortant structure on the site. There were still some beautiful stucco and paintings remaining in some of the chambers and we climbed down into dark hallways and rooms where mayan kings once ruled their city.

The mayan culture reached its peak between 500 and 750 A.C. Most of the huge cities, some of which accomodated more than 20′000 people, were abandoned between 750 and 900 A.C. Scientists speculate about the collaps of this in mathematics and astronomy highly advanced people. Some say the cities were abandoned because of a major draught, others, because the dense population exploited the area’s food supply. Still others mention warfare between cities. It remains unclear however, why at their heyday the majestic cities were abandoned. It is known though that the Maya didn’t disappear but spread out and settled in small villages. Most of their descendants live today in Guatemala and the Yucatan Peninsula.

After a playbreak with Chan’ s german friend, and two more climbed ruins with breathtaking views, we hiked the trail back along a river and beautiful waterfall.

Another day we spent in El Panchan. Our bikes needed service, two more flats on the trailer had to be fixed, some of Chan’s clothes needed mending and I cut both Flo’s and Chan’s hair a bit.

Our last days in Mexico

We covered the stretch from Palenque to the Belizan border in seven days. The country was flat and a bit boring. The only excitment were the howling of the monkeys and the sudden rain showers. Luckily we managed to always be in reach of one of the huge concrete structures serving as bus stops to find shelter from the almost violent but quick down spouts.

We camped next to roadside restaurants or stayed in hotels to get a break from the incredible heat. One day we arrived at some other mayan ruins at Expujil quite early, got a hotel room and visited the ruins. Then we went back to the hotel and took a nap in the cooling breeze of our vent. We woke up hungry arround six, cooked, ate and went back to sleep.

We were looking foreward to our next country, Belize, now. But it wasn’t because of it, that we biked 96km on our last day in Mexico. We just reached the village we had planned to stay over night too early to ask for a place to camp. So we ate lunch and continued to the next one. There we took a break again in the shade of a small park and then asked arround for a place to cam, since there was no restaurant. We were told to ask the village principle who was at a meeting in Chetumal, the city. He would be back arround five, we were told. Five was an hour before it got dark. In Mexico, if someone should be back at five, this means maybe he will be arround by 5.30 but most probably some time after six! So we would have waited arround in uncertainity if we could stay or not until it got dark, which we had done already once and it wasn’t pleasant. So we continued our ride to the next village, where we knew was a restaurant. When we arrived, we had covered 96km. We were exhausted, but we had a place to put up our tent and just enough time to buy an ice cream to reconcile with Chan for a too long ride in the trailer, cook dinner and escape the mosquitoes.

Three months in the life of a three year old

A toddler when we entered Mexico, Chan is now a big boy, as tall as he can stretch his arms while standing on his toes. On his birthday he agreed that he didn’t need mama’s breast anymore with tears in his eyes. But now he wants to be involved when we talk about our route and we have to show him on the map where we are. He knows what’s teh ocean and what’s the highways. When we stop riding he usually asks:” What are we doing here?” If we stop for a break or lunch he will unpack his cars or rake and shovel or go looking for a nice stick. If we are looking for a place to spend the night, he wants to go and ask or have a look at the room as well.

When we push our bikes he climbs on one by himself and proudly sits on the seat, it doesn’t matter for how short a ride. As soon as we unpack, he is grabing a few things as well to carry them to the tent or our room.

When we have a flat tire, its usually Chan who sticks the pad onto the tube and he somethimes helps to pump it up too.

People often ask us:” But what is he doing all the time in the trailer? Isn’t he bored?” Of course there are moments when he doesn’t wnt to ride. Mostly though he is occupied as soon as he is in the trialer. He loves to take things apart; many toys he was given to only lasted a day! Ohter times he plays with his cars, or reads stories to himself which can sound like this: “Nooooooooo! Not with a fox aaannniwheeeere!” Somethimes he has to scold his donkey like this: “Eeeseliiii. Du haesch aen Seich gmacht! Ich bin haessig mit dir! Muesch noed alles Wasser in Ahaenger usleerae!” (Little donkey. That was wrong! I’m really angry with you. You shouldn’t empty all the water into my trailer!)

Often our little guy just watches the landscape go by and comments on what he sees: ” A mama horse and a Chan horse look! Hey! A coca ooola truck, look a coca ooola truck!”

Lately he also asked to hear stories about Vancouver and the playgroup we used to join up there. Usually I start with a few sentences and he finishes of the story out of his own memory. We added stories from along our journey and it is amazing how much he remembers, often details which Flo and I had forgotten about! Peggy and Theo from San Francisco come up a lot, especially Theo’s tractor and the train set he played with while we stayed with Peggy’s family. Also Kayla is remebered a lot, a girl he played with at a beach on Baja California or the many matchbox cars he could play with at Steve and Linda’s in L.A.

Somethimes Chan just wants to talk with us, practicing English and he will ask us: “How do I say … in English?” Then he will tell us to speak back in English.

In Mexico we often saw kids going to school wearing school uniforms. Chan was fascinated mostly by the knee high socks the girls were wearing and a few times he said:” I want to go to school too, then I can wear those funny socks as well!”

And here a last glimps into a three year old’s life on the road: Once he had to fart in the trailer, but it was a wet one. I discovered it when we took a break and his bum smelled. So while changing his pants I asked:” When did that happen?” And Chan said:” Hmmm, about 3km ago!”