Guatemala

Arriving in Guatemala was the start of our Central American adventure and also the beginning of travel being less straightforward and requiring more research (and negotiation!).

Travelling from the US to Mexico was quite easy - regular bus lines that you can find all the information and buy tickets for online. The same goes for travelling within Mexico. Travelling from Mexico to Guatemala, however, took some research and time to figure out. It was through research that we learned that there are no major bus companies that do this trip, but there are fairly easy ways to travel to Guatemala by bus.

The first option is the cheapest route but definitely the most complicated, less predictable, and most likely to have complications. It involves what are referred to in Central America as “chicken busses”, which we think are called that because they essentially stuff you in like chickens, and the bus doesn’t leave until the driver decides that it is sufficiently full. You take any number of these buses to the border, where you walk across, go through customs, then take more of the local buses to go where you want to go. The second option are tourist shuttles that you can book in person at different hostels in San Cristobal. They definitely cost more than the local bus option, but they pick you up from your hotel, help you through the check-out and check-in process at the border, and then drop you off at your hotel when you arrive at your destination. The price (which again, isn’t that expensive) is well worth the lack of stress that would be the local bus routes.

Our driver picked us up super early in the morning in San Cristobal and we began the long journey from there to Lake Atitlan in Guatemala. Our driver on the Mexican side was amazing - friendly, played nice music en-route, and stopped at scrumptious breakfast buffet where we had our last morsels of Mexican food. Once we arrived at the border, we all got off, gathered our stuff, and he helped us to go through the check-out process from Mexico. After that, he introduced us to our Guatemalan driver and bid us farewell. We followed our new driver to the Guatemalan customs office where we checked into the country, before getting on another tourist shuttle to finish the journey. This driver was decidely less awesome than our Mexican one. He wasn’t bad, by any means, he just didn’t seem as into the job as the other man was. Stops on the Guatemalan side for food were definitely far less exciting. They involved mostly gas station food, which in Guatemala may be even worse than the US.

Finally, in the evening, we arrived at the first town around Lake Atitlan, where we would be staying for the night. We struggled for a bit to actually get into our hotel, however, finally the girl working the reception realized we were there and let us in. We went to eat at a local restaurant that makes a dish called Pupusas. The man at the restaurant told us that pupusas are actually from El Salvador, though we came to find them almost everywhere in Central America. They’re a dough made of corn (or sometimes rice), filled with different mixtures of meat, vegetables, and cheese, that are then grilled on a massive griddle. They are cheap, filling, and delicious. While we were eating, suddenly there was a loud music and large crowds forming outside - it was a parade! That’s when it dawned on us: Easter was coming soon, and in Latin America, Easter isn’t just one day or one weekend. They celebrate Semana Santa, which is a full week-long celebration. Apparently, they start doing small celebrations like this one even a week or so ahead of time.

We had a slow morning the next morning before making our way down to the docks of the lake to take the lanches - or small boats, across the lake to the town of Santiago de Atitlan, where we would spend one night. We went there because there was a big trail run we wanted to do that starts from there. You see, all around lake Atitlan, there are volcanos, Guatemala, in general, as the highest concentration of volcanos in all of the Americas, including the highest volcano in Central America. The trail we wanted to do was around 21km and involved going up two of them: The Toliman volcano and the Atitlan volcano. We got our trail bags, water, and snacks all prepped, ate a big pasta dinner, and then went to sleep really early to be ready for the next day.

The next morning, we woke up at 3:30am with the goal of hitting the trail by 4 or 4:15 am. Unfortunately, when we went to leave the hotel, the guard who was supposed to be at the gate just wasn’t there - and we didn’t know how to open the door. What ensued was probably 20 minutes or so of us wandering around the property of the hotel looking for someone who could help us or finding a way out. Finally, Jo figured out how to get the big gate open and we were one our way.

The trail started with headlamps in the dark, first passing through the town, then through some farmers fields, before arriving at the base of the volcano to begin the real climbing. The sounds of the nighttime insects and animals was beautiful as we moved steadily through different areas with tall grass, rocky climbs, and small hills. As we reached a clearing, we turned back to look out over the lack. What we were met with was an incredible, start-of-the-sunrise view of the lake and the Alotenango volcano looming over the other side. It was breathtaking. From there, we kept climbing, climbing, climbing. The only other people we saw were some of the local lumber workers. They are amazing - spending their days climbing up the volcano, chopping the wood from the forest that they need, then loading it up on their backs and carrying it down.

Reaching the top of Toliman was somewhat underwhelming, as it has long since been an active volcano and the top of it is still covered in trees and other foliage. You don’t really get any great views, though you can see the Atitlan - which was our next mountain to climb. After a quick snack break, we began the decent of Toliman. We would go part way down on the one side, before starting to climb back up the Atitlan Volcano that is next to it. Atitlan is taller than Toliman and is still active, so we knew we should get some pretty good views from there.

Down, down, down we went before starting the long, steep climb up Atitlan. It was here that we ran into three local boys, teenagers, perhaps, Jo was infront of me and saw them first. They didn’t seem threatening, but from the research we’ve done of Central America, you can never be 100% sure. Knowing we didn’t have much on us worth stealing anyways, Jo simply flashed them a huge smile and greeted them as enthusiastically as possible. They kind of stopped, looking a bit confused, so that’s when I piped up: Tough climb, isn’t it? I asked them, with which I was met with lots of “yes, yes, really tough, Very steep”. Then one of the boys asked about a photo. At first I thought he was asking if we wanted him to take a photo of us, or maybe if we could take a photo of them. Both of those options, however, would be wrong: The boys wanted to take a photo with us. We posed for a selfie with the guys, wished them well on their hike, and continued up the volcano. So somewhere in Guatemala, there are three teenaged boys that have a selfie with Jo and I, mid-trail run.

A while later, we were finally approaching the summit of Atitlan. This summit, however, is no joke. As you get towards the top, there are no more trees. Just lots of rocks and a steep switchback path that snakes the rest of the way to the top. I was doing well, until all of the sudden I felt a bit of panick come on. It was really steep, the rocks don’t provide a lot of solid footing, and that sent my anxiety a little over the edge. Jo, too, said that climbing up there was giving him almost a bit of vertigo. With Jo behind me, helping me to stay calm and telling me where to put my feet (again, I was in panick mode and would’ve been frozen otherwise), we made it to the top. We lucked out with clear skies and the view was amazing. The crater was also fairly impressive. We met a French couple at the top who took some pictures for us, and we returned the favour. They had come up the more common path on the other side that most tourists take, which is definitely less nerve-wracking. Thankfully, this was the path that we would be taking down the volcano.

We started the decent, where Jo was desparately trying to help me improve me downhill technique. Trail running, you must know, is all about the downhill. Ask any experienced trailer and they will tell you - races are won on the downhill, not the up. This is unfortunate for me, as I tend to struggle with downhill running, coming from a lack of technique and, well, fear of falling. This means that I find downhill running frustrating, nerve-wracking, and mentally exhausting - which usually ends up with me being quite a snappy student for Jo. I am working on being nicer to the coach, but thankfully he seems to handle my outbursts fairly well.

The descent of Atitlan was looooong. Incredibly long. So long, that by the time we were getting close to the bottom, everything was hurting - hips, knees, ankles, feet, and most of all, our spirits. We were happy with the run, but also fairly ready to be done. When we came out of the trail head, however, it was just a road. Where we thought maybe there would be a pile of tuktuks dropping off Atitlan hikers, there was no one. The town was another 7km away. Not knowing what to do, we begrudgingly began running along the road towards town. Whenever a car would go by, we would stick our thumb out and try to flag them down. Finally, two guys in a pick-up truck came by with the window down. I called out to them to ask if they were going in the direction of Santiago. They said yes, and we gratefully jumped into the back of their truck. They dropped us off just outside the town, where we took a tuktuk the rest of the way to the hotel.

Because of out later start, we didn’t get to have much rest. We had to shower as quickly as possible (difficult when you are sore and tired), pack up our stuff, and check out of the hotel. We were heading to another town at a different spot on the lake called San Marcos. We went back down to the docks, negotiated the price of the lanche ride to San Marcos, and went across the lake. We were going to San Marcos because Jo has an old university friend who lives and built an eco-hotel there. He was so kind as to allow us to stay there for free. We arrived to San Marcos and, at first, we were a little unsure. We had overheard people at restaurant just before that talking about how San Marcos has been kind of taken over by hippy-type expats, and boy was that an understatement. This was beyond your yogi tourism that you’ll find in places like Bali. It was full-on, magic cristals, ashwagandha yoga type-palce. We even saw posters up for things like a tantric sex workshop. Not sure how to feel about it all, we hopped in a TukTuk to Jo’s friend, Brioux’s, place. Just a short distance outside of San Marcos town, the Eco Lodge was absolutely stunning. It has small yurt-like wood cabins for the guests with a shared outdoor kitchen and shared washroom facilities. This, however, was not where we stayed. No, we stayed up in the big two-story wood cabin meant for a family perched high up on the hillside with the most spectacular view of the lake and surrounding volcanoes that you could ask for. The only problem was that it was a long, steep hike up many, many stairs to get there. The 21km with 2500m of elevation we’d already done that day plus our big, heavy bags meant that getting up there was probably almost more difficult than our run had been that morning.

The ecolodge was complete paradise, and we relaxed, enjoyed the views, and had dinner with Brioux and his girlfriend. We spent the next day visiting some of the other towns around the lake and even ended up buying a painting. There is a specific style of art in Atitlan that the idigenous people’s create, and we found a painting that we think will go perfectly in our future kitchen.

After our time in Atitlan, we headed off to Antigua. This is a beautiful, old, colonial-style town in Guatemala that we would certainly recommend to anyone visiting the country. We spent the next four days staying put, working, and urging our legs to recover from our big volcano adventure in Atitlan. Why the rush? Because we had signed up for a trail race in a town just outside of Antigua called the Sky Race of the Volcan de Fuego. The weekend after our Atitlan volcano running, we were racing up and down the volcano of fire in Antigua. This was a race that was about 23km with 2280m of elevation. It promised to be beautiful but also quite the challenge.

The day before the race, we went to stay in a hotel in the small town where the race would leave from. Checking into the hotel at the same time we were was a small guatemalan woman named Mendy, who also happened to be doing the race. We buddied up with her to figure out how to get to where race kit pick-up was. While we were waiting outside of the hotel for a tuktuk, we met two other people, a man and a woman, who were also doing the race. We ended up going altogether to get our bibs. Afterwards we all split ways to go find food and get to bed early. The next morning we had to get up at 4 am to eat, get ready, and get to the start location ahead of the 6am start. Unfortunately, Jo and I did not get a great sleep, as our room ended up being an exterior room by the road. We dealt with loud trucks, cars, and motorcycles passing by all night long, with their headlights glaring through the window.

The next morning we went again with Mendy and her sister down to the race start. I was feeling nervous but fairly positive. Six am arrived and we took off. Jo went off quite fast, but I hung back, going at my own pace. I could tell my legs were still not fully recovered from the last weekend, so I didn’t want to push it too much. After a little bit, I saw Jo waiting for me up ahead, so that we could run together. The race started out well, but the ascent was long and absolutely brutal. It wasn’t long before mentally, I started to struggle. I was in first place at that point, and was putting way too much pressure on myself to stay there. Jo did his best to encourage me to keep going, but it was hard. The climb was brutal and relentless. Finally, just a few hundred meters from the summit, a woman passed me - it was Mendy! I was sad to lose the lead, but less sad because it was someone who I now consider a friend. We got to the top, where there was a photographer taking pictures. We posed for a couple of shots with the billowing volcano in the background, then began running down.

Again, at first, I was doing really well. It was probably one of the best descents I had done yet. Of course, however, a long brutal climb up also meant a long, brutal run down. By the time we were about halfway down, both my legs and my mind had decided that I’d had enough. Again, I was putting too much pressure on myself, convinced that I was doing really poorly and that more of the women would soon start passing me. In a dark place in my head, I started getting frustrated, and that turned to me saying very not-nice things to every tree, root, and rock that I felt was unnecessarily getting in my way. We finally got to the bottom, where we had about 7km of rolling dirt road before arriving at the finish line. The dirt road, however, was quite rocky, and I had had just about enough of rocks at that point. Jo said to me “almost there Julie, the final stretch!” To which I responded final stretch?! Long stretch - we still have 5k… ugh stupid rocks!!! I am laughing at myself now thinking about how pathetic I was in that moment, but when I tell you I was struggling to keep it together, I meant it.

I crossed the finish line as second woman, behind my friend Mendy. The third place woman ended up being the other woman who we’d gone to race kit collection with the day before, so we had a little celebration between the three of us.

We sadly had no time to shower at the hotel because we were already passed checkout, so we went to wait for the bus. It was a Sunday, and while we were waiting for the bus a young woman pulled up in her car and asked where we were going. I guess she does this regularly on Sundays, knowing that there aren’t many buses. She took us along with two other people to where we needed to go, which was along her route - we all simply chipped in for the cost of filling up her tank. There were several streets closed in Antigua because of Samana Santa, as they have a tradition of decorating the roads with flowers, leaves, corn, and other natural, colourful items, so you can’t drive on them. She dropped us as close as she could and we walked the rest of the way back to our hostel. We finally got showers and food before then preparing our bags for our departure the next day from Antigua, Guatemala, to a small town in El Salvador in an area called La Ruta de Las Flores.