Mayan Magic

Adventure Travel

November/December 2007

Matt Kadey gets hot and steamy in the jungles of Belize and Guatemala on a two wheeled odyssey, touring some remote and ancient Mayan sites along the way.

Shadows flicker on cave walls as I squeeze into narrow crevices, skirt past 100,000 year-old stalactites, wade through waist-high nippy water and slide down steep rock faces. “Don’t step there,” our guide Emilio shouts out as he points over to pottery left here by the Mayans centuries ago. The trail is littered with ceramic pots of all sizes, their bottoms broken in order to release any spirits. Camera flashes abound. After a near-vertical climb up a rickety ladder, we come to a humbling spot in the Actun Tunichil Muknal cave. Illuminated by our headlamps lies the sparkling calcified skeletal remains of a 20-year-old Mayan girl. “A sacrifice to the gods,” Emilio enlightens us on the motive behind the Crystal Maiden’s demise. Thankfully, my Belizean bicycle ride will not come to nearly such a tragic ending.

Belize, tucked neatly between Mexico and Guatemala with a seemingly endless reef-laden coastline, has long been a destination of choice for watersport junkies and beach-bums. But with lush jungles, a scattering of some 600 Mayan ruins, a never-ending maze of underground pathways and vast chunks of protected land, it’s quickly becoming a hot spot for inland adventure seekers. Horseback riding, canoeing, caving, birding and rainforest tramping are all within easy reach in this compact Central American country. For myself and eight other sun-starved Canadians, Belize’s quiet roads, friendly English-speaking populace and 30 degree February afternoons has drawn us here for a two-wheel vacation.

While the weather and tourism might be hot in Belize, what’s not is Belize City. Known (justified or not) for being one of the more dangerous and unattractive cities in Central America, our pedal-power journey will start slightly west in the unassuming community of Burell Boom at the brand spanking new Belize R Us Resort. It’s here where the owner Doug introduces the group to three of Belize’s culinary delights: fresh seafood, smooth Belikin ale and the hottest hot sauce around. The best being Marie Sharp’s Hot Sauce – a gastronomic Belizean staple. 

The well-paved Western Highway with only the occasional undulation and heavy-foot driver turns out to be the perfect spot to warm up our legs and get used to being back in the saddle. However, the reality of the heat that we will be riding in quickly hits home as the mercury sneaks into the 30s while we make our way through the sleepy villages of Roaring Creek and Teakettle. You can always count on one thing when northerners come south in the dead of winter to ride – lots of sunburns. “Pretty hot eh white boy,” a man shouts out to one of our riders, Frank – now fully fried.

Once in San Ignacio – an energetic, dusty town located at the western edge of Belize which plays host to Belizeans of all creeds - rounds of ice-cold Belikin are ordered to dampen the fire. Our evening around the campfire is filled with chat about how we wished we had trained a little more enthusiastically pre-trip or had gotten that much-needed bicycle tune-up. Although, after a lengthy first day of riding under the steamy UV rays, few in the group have the energy to muster much of a dialogue. It’s not long after the last streaks of light are wrung from the sky that everyone is buried deep in their tents and sleeping the sleep of the dead.  

Being a stone’s throw from Guatemala, it only made sense to hop over the border and take a peak at the much renowned Tikal. Crossing into Guatemala turned out to be an adventure in itself, involving exit fees, confusing passport checks and a whole lot of waiting around as we dived headlong into the wonders of bureaucracy. “Watch out for the banditos,” our money exchanger unapologetically informs us as he eagerly snatches Belizean currency from my bronzed hands. While the danger of being relieved of your personal belongings between the border and Tikal has all but disappeared in recent years, the threat of getting bounced around on your bike is still the reality. A hot, rough gravel road welcomed us as we headed west towards the mighty Mayan city, as did the hollers of “gringo, gringo” as we passed by. A vast improvement to yells of the four-letter variety I often receive on the streets of downtown Toronto.

These inconveniences were more than worth it, though, to see the towering pyramids of Tikal, hidden inside the dense jungle of the 222-square-mile Tikal National Park. Steep-sided temples, rising to heights of more than 140 feet are surrounded by dense, wildlife-crammed jungle. Birds absolutely fill the sky. Bold coatimundis, cute little raccoon-like mammals with a ferocious appetite, lurk everywhere. So used to human interaction that they completely ignore me as I fire away several dozen digital shots.

But for some in the group, all these impressive sights were of little consolation, as a 5am wake-up call from our warm sleeping bags to watch a rainy, lack-lustre sunrise from the top of Temple IV was a tough pill to swallow following a hard day on the saddle. For some Guatemalan historians, equally distressing is that the inhabitants of mighty Tikal appear to have had their butts handed to them in a battle with neighbouring Caracol in A.D. 562.  A kind of little brother beats big brother scenario.

Caracol is Belize’s most impressive archaeological site but to get there we have to tackle the 80-kilometer, largely unpaved Chiquilbul road that heads due south through some of the country’s densest forest. The road’s mood being influenced by the harshness of the rainy season. Those of us with big fat tires were going to be thankful this steamy afternoon. But, watching tourists being bounced around in trucks, I’m glad I’m on two wheels instead of four. Several rest breaks are used to gorge on tropical goodies in the way of bananas, oranges and papayas supplied by our cook Kevin. His laid-back, “no problem man” style makes him the poster boy for the Belizean chill-out lifestyle. My type-A personality is having a hard time adjusting to the casual ‘Belize-time.’

There’s an odd fauna transition that occurs along this rutted dirt road. At one moment, I’m riding through a vast pine forest (that unfortunately has a long way to go in its recovery from a devastating southern pine beetle infestation) that resembles what we have back home in the northern reaches of Ontario and then the next, I’m in awe of the sights and sounds of the surrounding jungle canopy within Chiquilbul National Park where Caracol is so eloquently located.

Thanks to the generosity of the tourism board we are able to arrange a camping spot at Caracol – a privilege not usually bestowed on tourists. This little reward meant that at ride’s end I’m off to the top of the Caana Mayan pyramid (standing some 136 feet high, it’s still the tallest man-made building in the country) to gaze at the sunset and the stunning view of the surrounding jungle and mountain ridges. But, in similar fashion to our ill-fated sunrise outing in Tikal, the skies open up and any lingering glow is dampened by raindrops. “What did we do to you?” I yell up towards the Mayan gods.

By dawn when sun starts to peek its way into my tent, it’s apparent that all has been forgiven, and the gods bless us with a sensational sunrise, as keel-billed toucans and green white-fronted parrots exchange perches overhead and howler monkeys fill the air with their haunting vocals. The black howler monkey is usually an elusive primate, but seeing them in Belize is no problem. (The Community Baboon Sanctuary outside of Burell Boom is your best opportunity.) Their distinctive roars, especially when echoing in the predawn, can be quite frightening for newcomers. The feisty howler has been known to ‘greet’ visitors by relieving itself upon the crowd below. Happily, the worst treatment any of us received was a few thrown twigs.

 The Chiquilbul National Park, where we find ourselves wandering in the mid-morning shine among Caracol’s ruins, is only one example of many of Belize’s commitment to its natural environment. Formerly known as British Honduras, Belize has only been independent since the early 1980s, and like any youngster in their mid-20s, it’s been experiencing its fair share of bumps in the road. But one thing Belizeans have a good grasp of is conservation. With a population of less than 300,000 (Central America’s least populous country) and nearly 40 percent of its land protected by national organizations and private trusts, much of its interior is left to the jaguars, monkeys, and toucans. But for cyclists, Belize puts its best foot forward along the Hummingbird Highway.

The Hummingbird Highway that brings motorists and cyclists towards the southern portion of Belize has no shortage of jaw-dropping sites. Holding the title of the country’s most scenic stretch of pavement, the often hilly Hummingbird is lined with orange, banana and pineapple plantations, the lush Maya mountains and something that is near-and-dear to any cyclist’s heart – the Blue Hole. This glowing sapphire-blue limestone sinkhole located in Blue Hole National Park is the perfect spot to take a refreshing dip at ride’s end. And for many of us, again at ride’s commencement before heading south to an area ruled by four-legged mammals.

Jaguars are almost mythical, known to the Maya as Balam, an animal that represented the Lord of the Underworld. Their ability to elude contact with humans is perhaps why so many of us are drawn to these mysterious creatures. Like predatory cats in other Central American countries, Belize’s jaguars have faced numerous hardships at the hands of angry farmers and the logger’s chainsaw. But, with the help of conservation efforts such as that occurring within the Cockscomb Basin Wildlife Sanctuary, sponsored by the World Wildlife Fund, Belize’s big cats are making a solid comeback.

Now we didn’t hold any illusions about actually coming across any jaguars when we decide to camp in the 155-square-mile reserve, but just the thought of riding into the park knowing that one could be carefully watching you pass by is exciting enough. As the skinniest guy of the bunch, I’m confident that a hungry cat would first turn to one of my cycling mates for a good meal.  Our time in the reserve is spent hiking the numerous jungle trails and then cooling off at the waterfalls.

After more than a week spent exploring Belize’s interior on foot and on two wheels, it was time for a little beach R & R in Placencia. One thing for sure, if this seaside village expects to contend with other, more celebrated Latin American resort towns they better do something about the cruel dirt road leading into it. “Man, I hate this road,” Frank yells from behind as fast-moving trucks whiz by throwing up dust-balls, making negotiating the potholes that much more of a challenge. When I see the magic words “cold beer”, I ease his suffering, joining him and a couple of retirees from San Diego at Mango’s for a pint. Others dampen the pain with ice cream. When in Placencia a visit to the Gelateria is a must. Their kiwi and grapefruit gelatos are enough to have you cancelling your plane ticket home.

Occasionally flattened by hurricanes, the down-to-earth town of Placencia, where you’d expect to see Jimmy Buffet wearing flip-flops sipping a drink, is perched at the southern tip of a long, narrow peninsula in the bottom portion of the country. It’s home to some of Belize’s best beaches, food joints and sunrises. But I doubt the town was ready for us as we hit the white sand with an assortment of nightmarish tan-lines and legs covered in large chicken pox-like red dots – the result of spending a few nights fending off attacking bugs. I guess better the bugs than jaguars.

Not only was Placencia the finishing point for our cycling trip, it was also the place where Paul and Monika, after surviving less than ideal conditions for their road bikes, decided to tie the knot. For a devoted cyclist and traveller, I could not think of a more fitting way to wed - Bikes, Beach and Beer. So with a few wise words from the Reverend Jerry Jones (yes, that really was his name) and the customary “I do’s”, we ended our time in Belize in fine, romantic fashion. Will this gringo be going back? Better Belize It!

Want to go?

Guides

Off Beat Roads (www.offbeatroads.com, 1-416-928-0628) offers an 11-day cycling trip ($1,900 Canadian funds) to Belize and Guatemala in February and March. Accommodation is split between hotels and camping. Off-the-saddle days are spent exploring caves, wandering through Mayan sites and chilling on the beach.

Western Spirit (www.westernspirit.com, 1-800-845-2453, 1-435-259-8732) uses doubletrack roads and singletrack trails to explore the rainforest of Belize. Their six-day ($1,995US) tour runs in January and February. Canoeing and plenty of wildlife viewing are thrown in for good measure.

If you are really up for a challenge you may think about giving the Temple to Temple (www.templetotemple.com, 1-416-893-1283) Belize bike race a go. Over the course of seven days ($1,795US) participants compete in daily races (total distance is 750 kilometres) between many of Belize’s Mayan temples.  

Pacz Tours are the best around for a guided tour of the Actun Tunichil Muknal underground cave system – a registered archaeological cave site located on the edge of the wildlife-saturated Tapir Mountain Nature Reserve. Emilio Awe is the person to contact (011-501-804-2667; pacztours@btl.net). The full-day cave tour costs $80US and includes food, guides, lights and helmets. This tour is an absolute must if visiting Belize. 

Caribbean Tours (www.ctbelize.com, 011-501-523-3481) located in Placencia can arrange accommodation and numerous water and land activities in and around this lazy beach village.

DIY

With little traffic, lots of cheap accommodation and an English speaking population, self-supported cycling is very much possible in Belize. We came across a few touring cyclists that were having a great time.