39. Guatemala (El Peten)

After two not-so-interesting days from Palenque, with some rain, some sun, tons of "Gringo!" and a bit of "ecoturistico" camping, we make it to Frontera Corozal, the town that will host our last pedaling in Mexico, on Usumacinta river. On the other side : Guatemala!
 I manage to avoid trouble at the immigration office on the Mexican side : my visa (or tourist card, whatever) has not been paid properly when I entered the country (because the cash money went straight into the officer's pocket in Tecate), so although I have the payment stamp on my piece of paper, I don't have the compulsory bank receipt that should go with it. I'm supposed to go to the nearest bank to fix that, and the nearest bank is in... Palenque! Ouch! But I spend a minute begging and pretending to be about to cry, trying to enhance my weary cyclist appearance, and the officer ends up stamping my passport without even asking for the easy bribe. Yeah!
Next step : getting across the river, which means finding a "lancha". Easy! It's lanchas that find us, of course, as there are dozens of them and only two tourists in town, us. Harder is to negociate the fare. We end up with a fair deal but not great, and 5 minutes later we lay foot on Guatemalan ground in La Tecnica.
The local currency change businessman (i.e. a man with a calculator and a bundle of money that barely fit in his well-fed hand) catches us about 3 feet from the boat, because our boatman jumped on shore and ran away like a mountain goat up the dusty riverbed to fetch him as soon as we touched land (surely no commission involved). Two minutes later, we don't have any more Pesos, but a handful of Quetzales, that we make sure we try straight away in the nearest shop by buying a Gallo, the local beer, to proceed to the compulsory celebration of crossing into the 4th country of the trip. Beware, Guatemala, here we are!
Satisfaction quickly fades away on the rocky road to Bethel, the not-too-far town where the immigration office is. As Bethel lies on the Usumacinta river, we expect a nice flat road to reach it. Never mind! For a global elevation gain of absolute zero, we have to get through a rock and dust rollercoaster, minus the speed. On the positive side, we are greeted every now and then by extremely friendly locals, which smiles may also be enhanced by the fact that they know that we are paying the physical price for having chosen the cheap way across the river, to La Tecnica instead of Bethel, like tourists are usually supposed to do. Anyway, they are genuinely friendly and it makes it much easier than if they were pointing guns at us (although that would have made us go much faster).
Once in Bethel, a short but hot and dusty distance from the road we were on, we are told that the immigration office has been moved a bit further down that same road, to save the detour for people who come through La Tecnica, like we did. Ok, forget it, we're not backtracking now. Let's try this over-fried chicken instead, and its friends soaked-in-oil-rather-than-fried chips, and get some rest in that local cheap posada. Why not spend one night as an illegal immigrant? Damn, aren't we dare-devils!
The next morning, after saying good bye to 3 young fans, we get to the immigration office. To get into the building, get a deep lungful of dusty air and step over the sleeping dog, and appreciate the surprise : no entrance fee, no bribe, and a free, extra-wide smile from the officer : welcome to Guatemala! What a good surprise! I feel very far from Australia, where customs would consider me like a narco-terrorist rather than a regular visitor with a valid working visa, asking many questions and pushing a sniffing dog's nose on my butt from behind! Far from Canada, too, where I experienced the stupidest, longest immigration control (although once again with a valid working visa). Thank you, "dangerous, corrupted Latin America"! We even stay a few minutes chatting with the friendly officer. Good start, Guatemala!
All right, once again, the positive start quickly gives way to a hard-core rocky road, pure Alaska/Yukon style with extra tropical heat, all the way to dusty town of Las Cruces, which is not on the map, and where we find a dirt(y)-cheap room. The shower, a bucket full dirty water and a cup with view on the chickens, is quickly forgotten. After all, who needs a shower when they have a nice layer of dust and sweat all over their body? We find a nice roadside dinner with view of the smoke from the distant burning garbage pile glowing in the night sky. The waitress makes a mistake in our bill, making it cheaper than the already cheap price, and refuses to correct it when we tell her. Wow, tourists ripping off local businesses, isn't that the wrong way around?
We arrive the next day in Flores, a Gringoland stop for a day off. Ok, it's a beautiful island, but it's not the real deal : going through Santa Helena, one of the tri-cities here, we experience dirty, noisy, kinda skecthy, real Guatemala, but then we cross the bridge to Flores, once passed the Burger King (no kidding), tourists start popping up around us, along with police force to keep the quiet little hotel-and-restaurants-filled town quiet.
The day off starts early with a scorpion landing on my arm in the morning, out of nowhere, and before coffee (how cruel is that!). It's nice not to be on a dirty road, and enjoy a coffee-sipping day instead, with Internet, food and cheap drinks! We also meet two weary cyclists who arrive from the border (1 day for them, 2 for us). After a minute talking together, Byron and one of them realize they know each other, leading to an hilarious situation. The second night, we consider the less-traveled road, on he northern side of Lake Peten-Itza, for a quieter, more scenic ride. I check satellite views online to see if it's paved, because our maps won't tell us. I check a big chunk of it, all paved, and we decide it's a deal. Mistake!
We take off in the morning for the lake tour, and after a few police checkpoints that give us a weird feeling about the safety situation in Guatemala (the cops are friendly with us, though), we enjoy a nice, quiet, scenic ride on  very good pavement, until the very place where we stopped checking it online, where, it turns into the almost usual crappy gravel. Furthermore, we believe in our luck and miss a crossing, keeping moving on the paved road that goes the wrong way before backtracking to get on the "good" one. At least, between two painful hills, passed by motorcyclists out of their mind, we can enjoy nice views on the beautiful, blue lake (when there's no big gray concrete hotel wall in between).
We stop and camp at the Cerra Cahui natural reserve, where the local star, the tapir, won't show up, but monkeys, birds and all kinds of  bugs thrive.
Back on the main road, on the way to the Maya ruins of Tikal, there's nothing interesting but a huge, steep hill, which is interesting because we already know we're on a kind of dead-end road and will have to backtrack soon...
The site itself, lost in the jungle, is one of the most incredible places I've seen in my life. And we can enjoy a cool thing : buying a ticket in the late afternoon, you get it stamped for the next day, so we setup camp on a hotel's ground and go for a sunset visit of the ruins, then again for the sunrise. We then walk 6 to 7 hours through the place, not even seeing every restored part. It's literally a lost city in the jungle, and not a small one, so it's like wandering through an actual town, but at the same time it's a hike in the jungle, with some decent hills and huge, steep pyramids to climb. Awesome!
The pleasure is only darkened by a flat tire just when leaving the next day, then again by the loss of my fuel bottle and pump somewhere on the road, which means no cooking until further notice. I don't know it yet, but this will trigger a huge change in my plans in the next weeks...
One night camping in El Remate after an incredible speeding down the above mentioned hill, and it's time to say good-bye and good luck to Byron, headed South in Guatemala  for some Spanish lessons in Quetzaltenango, while I'm already on my way to a fifth country, Belize, Eastwards. A nice day for me on a horrible road under construction, with extra dust, mud, strong headwinds, and a flat tire right at the border!

Apres deux jours de route sans grand interet depuis Palenque, avec un peu de pluie, du soleil, des "Gringo!" a la pelle et du camping "ecoturistico", nous arrivons a Frontera Corozal, derniere etape mexicaine du voyage, sur la riviere Usumacinta.
J'evite le pire au controle d'immigration : mon visa n'ayant pas ete paye dans les regles lors de mon entree au Mexique (l'argent etant parti directement dans la poche de l'agent a Tecate), je n'ai pas de recu officiel de paiement. En premier lieu, l'officier m'annonce que je dois retourner a Palenque pour effectuer un paiement officiel dans une banque. Aie! Mais je tente de l'appitoyer pendant deux minutes et il finit par tamponner mon passeport, classer mon visa, et me voila officiellement autorise a quitter le territoire. Ouf!
Deuxieme etape : traverser la riviere. Pas difficile de trouver un passeur, ils nous sautent dessus. Plus difficile : negocier le tarif. Nous ne nous en sortons pas trop mal, et en 5 minutes nous voila a La Tecnica, au Guatemala!
Le changeur d'argent local nous tombe dessus a peine le pied pose sur la berge (notre pilote etant parti le chercher au grand galop). Deux minutes plus tard, nous n'avons plus de Pesos, mais une bonne poignee de Quetzales, que nous nous empressons d'etrenner dans une celebration obligatoire avec la biere locale : la Gallo. Guatemala, nous voila!
La satisfaction laisse rapidement place a un peu de difficulte : nous devons nous rendre a Bethel, pas tres loin, pour le passage a l'immigration. Bethel est situee sur la meme riviere, donc nous nous attendons logiquement a du plat. Que nenni! Nous en bavons sur des montagnes russes de cailloux et de poussiere. Heureusement, les Guatemalteques sont super sympas et leur accueil souriant rend la route plus facile. Arrives a Bethel, il se trouve finalement que le bureau d'immigration a ete relocalise plus loin sur la route. Nous dormirons donc une nuit au Guatemala en tout tranquille clandestinite, dans une petite posada austere et pas chere...
 Le lendemain, nous procedons au controle d'immigration le plus tranquille que j'aie jamais vecu (bien, bien loin de l'Australie, et surtout du Canada - le pire!). C'est tellement peinard que c'en est presque une blague. Nous restons meme quelques minutes a rigoler avec l'officier qui tamponne nos passeports et nous souhaite la bienvenue avec un immense sourire. Le Guatemala prend un bon depart!
Enfin c'est sans compter sur la route pourrie de chez pourrie, du plus pur style Alaska / Yukon, la chaleur tropicale en plus, nous conduisant a la poussiereuse ville de Las Cruces, ou nous trouvons une chambre a prix imbattable, et au confort qui s'y rapporte...
Nous arrivons le lendemain a Flores, etape Gringoland pour un jour de repos (pimente d'un scorpion aterri de de nulle part sur mon bras de bon matin, plus fort que le cafe!) avant d'attaquer Tikal par la route la moins utilisee : la cote Nord du lac Peten Itza. Faible frequentation qui se comprend : montagnes russes sur caillasses facon La Tecnica - Bethel a nouveau. Nous campons dans la reserve naturelle de Cerra Cahui, ou nous ne rencontrerons pas la star locale : le tapir. Mais des singes, des oiseaux, des bebetes en tout genre a foisons.
La route de Tikal n'a rien de tres interessant. Le site, en revanche, une immense cite Maya perdue dans la jungle, offre une visite incroyable! Le plaisir n'est entache que par une crevaison en quittant le site, et la perte de ma bouteille d'essence quelque part sur la route.
Une nuit de camping a El Remate, et je dis adieu a Byron qui part vers le Sud du Guatemala ou il va prendre des cours d'Espagnol pendant un mois. De mon cote, une horrible route en travaux, avec poussiere et vent de face, m'emmene au Belize...