10 - 22 November 2023

• 10 Nov - Huehuetenango to Agua Caliente (23.2 mi, 37.3 km)

• 11 Nov - Agua Caliente to San Francisco El Alto (23.6 mi, 38.0 km)

• 12 Nov - Rest day in San Francisco El Alto

• 13 Nov - San Francisco El Alto to Nahuala (23.4 mi, 37.7 km)

• 14 Nov - Nahuala to San Marcos La Laguna (18.3 mi, 29.5 km)

• 15-22 Nov - Layover at Lake Atitlán (San Marcos La Laguna, San Pedro La Laguna, Santiago Atitlán, and Panajachel)

Back Into the Mountains

The lowlands in Guatemala are hot. Along the coasts, daily high temperatures hover around 90F (32C) or above throughout the year - even in the middle of winter. So it comes as no surprise that the vast majority of people prefer to live in the central highlands. Nestled between the extremely rugged Sierra Cuchumatanes to the north, and the lofty, volcanic, Sierra Madre range to the south, lies a more mellow, yet still mountainous zone. It’s full of densely-packed ridges that surround high-altitude valleys. All of Guatemala’s major cities can be found here, typically in the larger basins at elevations of 5K-6K ft (1.5K-1.8K meters). In between the cities and towns, the land rises up to great heights. To get from one place to another, you will surely have to cross a mountain (or two).

And so between us and the next big town on our route stood a ridge rising nearly 5,500 ft (1,600 m) above the city of Huehuetanago, where we had been staying. After a long break, the idea of tackling that much climbing in a single day felt somewhat daunting. So we decided to split the climb over two days, stopping at a roadside hotel on the first night.

On the morning of our departure, we were thrilled to awake to a gorgeous sunrise. The daily rain that had dogged us throughout the previous weeks seemed to be permanently behind us, and we looked forward to a fair-weather ride on the paved highway. 

At the edge of the city, we took a left turn, riding back onto the PanAmerican Highway - with all of the pros (decent pavement, reasonable gradients) and cons (fast moving traffic with lots of big trucks and buses) that entails. Although the PanAmerican Highway is famous, for most of its length it is not really a highway in the traditional sense (e.g., with multiple lanes going in both directions). Most of the time it is a rather small road, with just one lane in each direction and little to no shoulder. Nonetheless, it’s still one of the main travel routes across the Americas, and hosts above-average traffic levels. That’s one of the reasons we tend to avoid it. But in some places there aren’t any other good options, so we find ourselves cycling along with all the other traffic on the PanAmerican Highway.

This being Guatemala, there were more than a couple of strenuous sections on the way up the mountain, and we stopped every so often to rest our legs and catch our breath. But there was nothing that was nearly as tough as the impossibly steep hills we had crawled up in the Sierra Cuchumatanes. Every mile was rideable.

About four hours into the ride, with our energy flagging, we stopped for an extended break at a little tienda in the middle of nowhere. As we were getting ready to leave, the proprietor came over to talk with us. He was really interested in our bikes, and got a kick out of the fact that we had cycled all the way to his little store from Alaska. Then he asked if he could take a photo of us with his three kids. They were shy, especially the youngest one. But the little guy felt quite proud of himself when he had the chance to sit on PedalingGuy’s bike - even though he was not big enough to reach the handlebars while sitting on the saddle, and had to be held upright.

The break gave us a big boost of energy, and before we knew it we had reached our destination under a still-blue sky. 

But it wasn’t that easy to find our hotel. The first glitch was that the hotel’s sign was mostly hidden by a tree, so we ended up going past it before realizing our mistake. Once we located the hotel, we had trouble finding anyone to check us in. We ended up asking for advice at a little shop nearby. Fortunately, the shop’s clerk was able to point us to a restaurant across the street where we finally found someone who could help us. It’s actually pretty common for these small hotels to lack a registration desk. You just have to ask around until you locate someone to check you in.

Hotel Adventures

The hotel room was absolutely tiny - too small for us to get our bikes inside - so we ended up leaving our bikes outside our room, in the hallway. That’s something we would never consider doing in most hotels. But we were on the second floor, with the bikes not visible from below. And it seemed likely that we would be the only ones staying there for the night. So we figured it would be safe enough. 

There were a few other hiccups as well. The water in the hotel was off when we arrived, and it took them an hour or so to turn it on. There were no ‘high end’ luxuries like wifi or air-conditioning. And finally, when we went to use the shower, the hot water came out in just a small trickle from the shower head. That made it tough to get clean, but we managed to make it work.

The room was so small that when the bathroom door was open, it completely blocked the only window in the room. We could hear a buzzing sound, and discovered that just outside our window there was a bee hive - apparently inside the wall of the hotel - with a swarm of bees coming and going. That put the kibosh on any thoughts of opening the window to get air, because there was no screen to keep the bees out. 

While investigating the source of the buzzing, PedalingGuy had closed the bathroom door to be able to look out the window. That was the start of our most exciting adventure for the evening - and it didn’t have anything to do with the bees. Unbeknownst to PedalingGuy, the bathroom doorknob was locked. And once the door was shut, we had no way to get it open again.  

In a rising state of concern, we strategized how we might be able to unlock the door. The door knob had a real keyhole, not the kind of cheap, indoor lock that can be easily opened with a hairpin. So the first idea was to try to find the key. When we had checked in, the girl from the hotel had rummaged through a bag of keys to find the one for our room. And that bag was easily accessible in a drawer, inside an unlocked storage closet, in a room down the hall. We retrieved the bag of keys and proceeded to try each one - our hope slowly fading as each key failed to open the door. And given how unorganized they were with their keys, it seemed hopeless that they would actually have a key for the bathroom hidden somewhere else.

When the search for the proper key proved fruitless, we moved on to Plan B - the credit card method. Unfortunately, the door closed in the wrong direction. So the slanted part of the locking mechanism faced into the bathroom, away from us. In spite of our best efforts, we couldn’t maneuver the card far enough around the latch bolt to work it free. The credit card method wasn’t going to work, either.

The screwdriver on our Leatherman tool proved to be too thick to fit between the door and the wooden frame. Strike three.

Finally, PedalingGuy had a brilliant idea. Our bike multi-tool has a master-link separator for bike chains that has a nice, curved hook on the end (for gripping the chain). It’s also very slender, making it perfect for sliding between a door and its frame. PedalingGuy deftly positioned the hook around the far side of the latch bolt. It took a lot of fiddling, but it worked! We were able to get back into the bathroom. 

PedalingGal was very impressed. It was a huge relief not to have to tell the hotel staff that we had potentially rendered one of their rooms unusable. Who knew the multi-tool also had a lock picking tool on it? Perhaps someone should write to Topeak and let them know they can add one more function to the list of uses for their multi-tool.

It was not the most restful night. There was a lot of noise from the highway, which was exacerbated by the fact that we were right next to a big hill. The roar of motors as vehicles strained up the hill was complemented by the growl of trucks using their engines to brake on the downhill. 

On top of that, we both spent the night worrying about the bikes. Even though we had earlier come to the conclusion that they would be safe outside the room, every little noise from the hallway sounded like someone tampering with the bikes. During the night we each got up to check on the bikes at least once. We probably won’t leave them outside like that again. We’ve heard about too many people who have had their bikes stolen. And if that happens, it is often the end of the bike trip because finding the right replacement bike and equipment in Latin America can be nearly impossible (not to mention expensive).

Despite the lack of sleep we were very ready to move on in the morning. 

Light rain during the night led to a cool, damp morning with clouds hugging the mountain just above us. For three hours we ascended towards the clouds, as the sun’s warmth pushed them up the mountainside ahead of us. Radiant, softball-sized, purple flowers grew in dense clusters on the side of the road, cheering us up throughout the climb.

About halfway to the top, we came across a family in need. They were traveling in a pickup truck that had gotten stuck in a ditch, and one of the back wheels was suspended above the ditch, spinning wildly. Since it was a rear-wheel-drive truck, they wouldn’t be going anywhere until both of the back wheels were able to get traction. But the family didn’t have enough people to effectively push the pickup truck back onto solid ground. By helping them rock the vehicle back and forth, PedalingGuy was able to help push them out of the ditch. Everyone celebrated the victory, and we enjoyed some big smiles and many “thank yous” in English from the group before they drove away. PedalingGuy definitely racked up a few good karma points for the day. 

After a quick descent off the cold mountain ridge, we turned off the PanAmerican Highway toward the town of San Francisco El Alto (pop. 39,000). And it was immediately obvious why it was called El Alto (“the heights”). The cobblestone road into town went up a 1-mile long (1.6 km) hill with a 20+% gradient - almost as steep as going up a set of stairs. As we pushed our bikes up the hill, we were struck by the fact that both sides of the road were lined with nothing but small, retail clothing stores for many blocks. That was definitely different from the usual, jumbled mix of stores, car workshops, and little restaurants that are typically found when entering a town.

We were still quite far from the top when PedalingGuy realized we could take a side road that would skirt the edge of the hill, and save us the trouble of pushing our bikes over the ridge. It took us about two seconds to conclude this was a great idea. We rode our bikes down the narrow, dirt alley, completely skipping the remainder of the steep climb. It was perfect.

Not only did we avoid some exhausting bike-pushing, when we arrived at our hotel we discovered that the road we originally were going to take was completely torn up for construction. So we would have had an obstacle course right at the end if we had gone that route. We felt pretty happy with the way things worked out.

Exploring San Francisco El Alto

In the late afternoon we went for a walk to explore the town. It quickly became clear that San Francisco El Alto was a textile town. The local economy is dominated by hundreds of small, family-owned, textile factories that churn out everything from denim work clothes to formal garments, colorful blankets, and bolts of uncut, cotton and woolen cloth. Our hotel was in the factory district, as opposed to the retail district of clothing shops that lined the road where we entered the town. Nearby buildings were overflowing with heaping mounds of textiles being bundled and loaded on trucks for shipment throughout Central America, and perhaps the world. We can remember seeing “Made in Guatemala” on clothing we owned in the past. Maybe some of it came from this town.

Our afternoon walk took us up to the main plaza, near the top of the hill. We later learned that Friday (the day before we arrived) was the big market day - when the plaza would have been crammed with vendors for the largest indigenous market in Central America. It’s particularly famous for its live-animal market. But when we were there it was nearly deserted. 

As we were admiring the church on one side of the plaza, a very sweet local woman came over to talk with us. Raquel was interested in where we were from, and seemed quite surprised that we were traveling by bicycle. When she saw that we were intrigued by the sight of some large kites that were flying overhead she offered to take us to the place where the kites were being launched. Raquel walked with us a little further up the mountain to another large plaza where groups of men were prepping and flying giant kites.

Raquel told us that the town hosts a major kite festival on 1 November as part of the celebration of All Souls Day. Some historians believe that kite flying has been part of Mayan rituals related to communicating with the dead for as much as 3,000 years. But it was pretty clear that lots of folks just liked to fly these oversized kites, even after the festival was long over. 

There were about a dozen kites in various stages of preparation or already flying in the sky. These were not your typical kites flown by kids. Instead they were giant kites that spanned 8-10 ft (2.5-3 m) across, made from cloth glued to bamboo frames, and ringed with streamers. They all had incredibly long tails stretching 30-50 feet in length (9-15 m). When a team of guys launched a kite, the wind made a loud fluttering sound as it rustled through the streamers. And these kites were not flown on flimsy strings. Heavy duty ropes were held by grown men and teenagers, wearing gloves to protect their hands as the kites strained against the wind.

When we returned to the hotel, we found that the blanket factory next door had been busy. Voluminous bundles of newly-woven, colorful blankets were now overflowing from their loading area. The bright colors seemed distinctly Guatemalan, reflecting the vivid pinks, reds, blues and purples common in indigenous Mayan clothing. As we watched, a steady stream of guys loaded the bundles on their backs, and hauled them down to a cargo truck waiting out on the street. The next morning, all of the blankets were gone.

The next day our morning walk included a return to the church on the town’s main plaza. We had heard that you could go up onto the roof of the church for great views of the town from above, and thought that sounded like fun. We headed up the hill on a beautiful, clear morning, with views of the Santa María Volcano - a still active volcano to our south - looking splendid in a wreath of clouds.

It was a Sunday morning, and the area around our hotel was pretty quiet. But the streets up near the main plaza were bustling with activity. The facade of the Church of St. Francis was interesting in that it was painted completely white, with no other colors except for the dark wood of the door, a small central window, and the three bells at the top.

After finding someone to let us into one of the towers, we ascended a particularly narrow, circular staircase up onto the roof. It’s always interesting to wander around the roofs of churches (something we did several times in Europe), with their sloping surfaces, domes and turrets. We also enjoyed getting a different perspective on the town.

Back on the ground, we walked among the stalls of the street vendors that crowded the area surrounding the church. Among other things, we were struck by the extremely large population of stray dogs in San Francisco El Alto. Most Latin American towns we visited had a population of street dogs, but San Francisco El Alto took it to another level. Everywhere in town there were dogs lounging around on the sidewalks, searching for tidbits of food among the market stalls, or following pedestrians in hopes of receiving a handout. At one point we decided to count the dogs, and there were 34 stray dogs within just a few blocks. 

It was fascinating to watch the dogs, who seemed to have a social structure of their own. They paid much more attention to each other than to humans. And although they occasionally were aggressive towards each other, we never saw them show even the slightest bit of aggression towards people. 

A Land of Volcanos

For those of us who have lived most of our lives far from volcanos, there is something deeply evocative about traveling alongside the Sierra Madre mountain range in Central America. Guatemala is home to 37 named volcanos. Three of them are currently active - spewing ash and lava on a regular basis. 

The three active volcanos have all proven deadly in modern times, killing thousands of people who dared to live in villages too close to their slopes. Yet their beauty is undeniable. Unlike mountain ranges like the Rockies or the Alps that rise relatively slowly into massive, unbroken ridges, the volcanos of the Sierra Madre emerge suddenly from the surrounding landscape, rising thousands of feet in solitary cones that are strikingly reminiscent of giant pyramids. For the next couple of hundred miles, our route would parallel the Sierra Madre range, providing dazzling views of the volcanos as they marched along to our south. 

Our ride out of San Francisco El Alto began with a white-knuckle descent into the valley below. On the way down, we enjoyed a spectacular view towards the major city of Quetzaltenango (pop. 207,600), with multiple volcanic peaks on the horizon.

The Xela Valley is home to Guatemala’s second largest metropolitan center. So when we reached the valley floor, it was predictably crowded and hectic on the roads. Our route crossed over a major artery that led into the city of Quetzaltenango, where traffic headed towards the city was at a complete standstill. Cars, chicken buses and motor bikes jostled for position, leaning heavily on their horns to express their displeasure at the slow pace of travel.

But we were not heading towards Quetzaltenango. Our route led up and over another mountain range, away from the big city. For the next 3.5 hours we cycled upward while hugging the edge of a mountain that overlooked the valley below. 

When we finally reached the top of the pass, we pulled over at a small gravel area near a road intersection. We were admiring the view when a couple of dump trucks arrived, and they also pulled over for a break after laboring several thousand feet up the mountain. One of the drivers, Cristofer, introduced himself and started asking about our trip. When he learned how far we had already traveled by bicycle, he was very enthusiastic and gave us a lot of encouragement. We really enjoyed talking with him.

From there we had a super fast descent into the town of Nahualá (pop. 5,200). For the third time since entering Guatemala we arrived at a roadside hotel where the rooms were too small to fit the bikes. But having learned our lesson at the last one, we went ahead and rented two rooms (at US$10 each). They were actually two little cabins, next door to each other. And other than being small, the rooms were quite nice and comfortable. We especially liked the cheerful celestial paintings on the cabin doors.

After settling in, we went in search of food. The hotel was located a bit outside of town, so we hailed one of the many tuk-tuks scooting up and down the road. We asked to be dropped off at a taco place that we had noticed while cycling by. But the tuk-tuk driver actually recommended another restaurant a little further up the road called Al Gusto, so we agreed that he should take us there.

It turned out to be a fantastic choice. The dining room was very simple. However, the menu was surprisingly varied, ranging from pizza and Italian options, to Chinese food, hamburgers, traditional dishes (e.g., carne asada)… you name it, they had it. The food was delicious - some of the best we’d had in a while. But the highlight of the experience was visiting with the owner/chef, who came out of the kitchen a couple times to talk with us and make sure our order was just how we wanted it. He had lived for a number of years in Pennsylvania, in the suburbs of Philadelphia - a region PedalingGal knows well. We enjoyed the experience and the food so much that we ended up ordering a pizza to go, to take back to the hotel for dinner.

The Road to Lake Atitlán 

The next morning we only cycled for about 40 minutes before turning off the PanAmerican Highway, which we had followed most of the way since departing Huehuetenango. On a high plateau, we rode through bustling towns that were crowded with people and buzzing with tuk-tuks. 

As we approached the edge of the high rim that surrounds Lake Atitlán we spotted a road cut that vividly illustrated the local geological forces at work. A heavy machine had scraped away several meters of dirt and rocks, exposing the layers below. Thick bands of dark gray, volcanic ash were sandwiched in between lighter-colored sand and gravel layers. It felt like we were looking directly at a record book of the volcanic eruptions that had formed this dynamic landscape.

Moments later we reached the edge of the escarpment, and were rewarded with a stunning view.

Lake Atitlán was born during the height of the Late Pleistocene. At that time, the Americas were dominated by some of the biggest mammals that ever lived, and long Ice Ages blanketed the northern latitudes with glaciers that were miles deep. Neanderthals hunted and gathered their food in Eurasia, and Homo sapiens was just beginning to make its first migrations out of Africa.

About 84K years ago, the land beneath Lake Atitlán exploded in a cataclysmic eruption. A volume of earth equivalent to more than 20 Matterhorns was blown into the sky, with ash from the plume detectable as far away as Florida and Ecuador. When the volcanic activity finally subsided, the huge caldera eventually filled with water - creating Lake Atitlán. In the intervening years, three new volcanoes have arisen within the caldera, forming the world-famous backdrop to the lake. And one of those, the Atitlán Volcano, remains active, having last erupted in 1853.

The overlook where we had stopped was near the entrance to a regional park. As we were snapping photos, the guy from the park guard house came over to greet us. Diego knew quite a bit about bicycles, and showed great interest in our Tumbleweed bikes - asking about our tires, the internal gears, and other components. He seemed quite impressed that we had started in Alaska. And like many folks, he expressed pleasure when we said we were enjoying our travels in Guatemala. He wished us well, and urged us to be careful on the descent down to the lake.

That turned out to be very good advice. We were still about 3,200 ft (975 m) above the lake, and the descent is famous for having two relatively long, extremely steep sections with gradients of 25-30%. The road lived up to its reputation. Before long our brakes were overheating and squealing loudly as we worked to maintain control on the downhill. We stopped several times to let the brakes cool, and to let our aching hands have a rest from gripping the brake levers.

Fortunately, there was a reprieve for a couple miles between the two descents, where the road passed through the mountain town of Santa Clara La Laguna. A sign on display as we entered the town proclaimed that it was the ‘Home of the Basket Weavers.’ The weaving of baskets from cane straw has been a local tradition here for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Historically, the baskets were utilitarian vessels purchased mainly by plantations for use in coffee production. But these days most of the baskets are sold to tourists in city markets throughout the country. 

After leaving Santa Clara, we plummeted the final 1500 ft down to the lake.

Our first stop at Lake Atitlán was in the small village of San Marcos La Laguna (pop. 2,900). Of all the towns that sit on the shores of the lake, San Marcos is probably the most unique. There are just a couple of roads through town that can accommodate cars. The rest of the town is accessed by a grid of narrow, cobblestone, pedestrian pathways. So most of the town’s restaurants, shops, and hotels/hostels are accessible only by foot.

A New Age Enclave

The other thing that sets San Marcos apart is that it has become a gathering place for people who are drawn to new-age and alternative lifestyles. We could sense the difference almost as soon as we arrived. Mayan calendars, tarot card readers, young backpackers in bare feet, strings of beads and bell-bottoms, drumming groups and impromptu jam sessions, and shops selling essential oils, crystals and yoga paraphernalia were the rule, rather than the exception. People actually referred to the main pedestrian route through the village as ‘Hippie Highway.’ And judging by the number of flyers that were posted on billboards around town, San Marcos must have one of the highest densities of yoga studios and alternative healing practices in the world. Although Spanish was still the primary language in San Marcos, there were far more English speakers than in any other town we had visited since crossing into Mexico.

We spent a couple of days in San Marcos exploring and recharging. All roads led to the edge of the truly spectacular lake, where we often found ourselves lingering to admire the changing moods of the water and volcanoes in the distance.

In the towns surrounding Lake Atitlán we met quite a few travelers who were on very long trips. The first evening in San Marcos, the restaurant that we went to for dinner didn’t have any open tables. Fortunately, a guy from the UK offered to let us sit with him. Ronnie was a great and engaging dinner companion. Like us, he had just arrived in San Marcos. We learned that he was on a three month bus/backpacking trip throughout Central America that had begun in Panama. He had already traveled extensively through Costa Rica and Nicaragua - giving us some tips on places he enjoyed the most. We also told him about our past cycling trip in the UK, and he seemed to get a kick out of that.

Pretty soon another woman, named Sasha, joined us. She and Ronnie had first met at a hostal in Nicaragua, and had agreed to meet up again in San Marcos. Sasha was from south-central British Columbia in Canada, and we ended up talking with her quite a bit about our recent travels in Canada as well. She was a ‘digital nomad’ who was looking for a place to establish a long-term base for working out of Central America. Nicaragua had really captivated her, and she had expected to return there after visiting Guatemala. But upon her arrival in San Marcos, she was smitten by the town’s new-age vibe. So now she was looking for a place to stay in San Marcos, at least for a couple of weeks.

After dinner we headed back to the lake shore to catch the sunset.

Cerro Tzankujil Nature Reserve

One morning we went for a walk down by the lake and through a nature reserve that borders the village. As we walked along the shore we met a woman from Germany who was traveling and volunteering in Central America for a couple of months. Claire was a nurse, and she had just completed volunteering for a month at a clinic in northern Guatemala. She said it was a real eye-opener. Since the clinic had no doctor, the local nurses performed a lot of duties that would normally be handled by a doctor (e.g., prescribing medicines and performing minor surgeries). After finishing her volunteer work, she was now taking the time to see the rest of the country. Her itinerary in San Marcos included a cooking lesson and some yoga classes.

A massive, rocky buttress extends out from the mountains between the village of San Marcos and the lake. Known as the Cerro Tzankujil, the outcrop rises quickly from the lake to form a narrow ridge with steep drop offs on both sides. Forest trails follow the ridge line to cliffs overlooking the lake, where brave swimmers can jump off of platforms 30 ft (9 m) above the water’s surface. We didn’t take the plunge into the lake, but the cliff dive seemed to be very famous amongst some of the travelers we talked to. Instead we explored the trails looking for wildlife. There are several Mayan altars along the ridge line, and beautiful views from the top.

A Musical Afternoon

On our final day in San Marcos we enjoyed a truly exceptional experience. The hotel where we were staying was owned by a delightful woman from Boston named Terry Rubin, who moved there 30 years ago. She is a musician and songwriter, and she had a big, fluffy, white dog, Lobita, who stayed very close and followed her everywhere. 

The hotel she created over the past 20 years - Posada del Bosque Encantada - was a beautifully-decorated, lovingly-constructed oasis of tranquility. Everything about our room, and the patio with hammocks outside, was incredibly comfortable. There are only three rooms, so it is advisable to make a reservation if you are going to be in town and want to stay there.

In the afternoon on our final day in San Marcos, Terry invited us to tour her very special and unique home. Over the years she had purchased numerous parcels, helping protect a large strip of land in the lower part of town from development. Inside her gate, huge avocado trees shaded a diverse mix of native and cultivated plants - including fruit trees, coffee and cacao. 

Her home was originally built as a tree house, among the limbs of a giant avocado tree. That tree has since died, but she has maintained the house on tall columns so that it still rises up into the canopy of the surrounding trees. There were several large, outdoor terraces where she hosts community meetings under a palapa roof. And the home itself was a work of art, with extensive wood carvings, stone mosaics, and decorative concrete designs all created by local artisans. The main living area was enveloped in nearly 360 degrees of large windows that provided a panoramic view of the surrounding forest. 

But the highlight of our visit was the music. Terry has been composing songs and writing her own lyrics for most of her life. So she got out her guitar and sang some songs for us, complete with commentary on where the ideas came from. She sang about her dog, her treehouse, a big, majestic tree in town, and even her 30-year-old car (which she loves very much). It was beautiful, and a truly magical experience for us. If you would like to hear some of her music, she has an album on iTunes (and the other, usual, big streaming services) called This Planet We Live On. We really hope she continues to record music, since some of her best songs seem to be still unpublished.

Crossing the Lake to San Pedro La Laguna

Although there are roads that run around the perimeter of Lake Atitlán, the vast majority of people travel between the lakeside towns by boat. Dozens of independent boat captains are in constant motion, continuously loading, unloading, and ferrying passengers between the main docks for a fee of just a few dollars. This makes the boats a quick, easy, and affordable way to move around the lake. By contrast, the local roads are very hilly and often poorly maintained. Furthermore, with relatively few vehicles passing through to provide a measure of safety, robberies of motorists (and cyclists) are a persistent problem. So to travel from San Marcos to San Pedro, we took a boat.

We enjoyed one last, leisurely morning in San Marcos before heading down to the dock around 11am. But when the first boat bound for San Pedro pulled up to the pier, we started to get nervous. Since the ferries are independently owned and operated, there are often differences among the boats. And this boat didn’t have a railing on top to help hold luggage - like our bikes - in place. 

The idea of waiting around for the next boat wasn’t that appealing. So before we had completely thought it through, we found ourselves loading the bikes up onto the cabin roof. They were laid cross-wise, so that the frame of the bike rested on the slightly-raised center of the roof, while the front and back tires drooped to the sides. We removed everything we thought might have a chance of coming loose - like our water bottles and handlebar bags. Otherwise, everything else stayed attached to the bicycles. We crossed our fingers and put our trust in gravity - and hopefully a smooth ride - to hold the bikes in place.

The boat captain kept assuring us that everything would be fine, but the whole arrangement felt precarious. Throughout the 15 minute ride across the lake we worried that our bikes, with pretty much everything we owned attached, would slip off to the side and sink to the bottom of the 1,000 ft deep lake. We even wondered how much floatation our big tires would provide if the bikes fell off. There is a lot of air in those tires. Would they keep the bikes and attached gear afloat?

We sat towards the front of the boat, so that every couple of minutes PedalingGuy could stand up and check on the status of our rigs. Fortunately everything went fine. And to be honest, the boat’s captain was right behind the bikes, where he could easily keep an eye on them (and presumably take action if one of the bikes started to shift). But it was still a big relief to reach San Pedro with all of our gear still above water. 

A Bustling Lakeside Town

The town of San Pedro La Laguna is five times the size of San Marcos, and has a very different feel to it. No more crystal healing workshops or quiet pedestrian walkways. San Pedro is primarily known for its Spanish language schools, with at least a dozen of them scattered around town. It also has a reputation as something of a party town, with clusters of bars and late-night restaurants that cater to the young, backpacking crowd looking to have fun after learning a little Spanish. We could sense the difference immediately, as we pushed our bikes up a crowded, touristy, traffic-filled road.

We spent several days in San Pedro. Each morning we went for a long walk along the lake to a quiet beach with black lava sand. In the afternoons we would wander the narrow streets, checking out the colorful murals and sampling some of the more unusual dining options. San Pedro’s population is 90% indigenous Mayan, but there are some unique aspects to the small, expat community. In addition to the typical North American transplants, there is a sizable Israeli community, and a sprinkling of immigrants from Asia. Since it seems that expats often open restaurants, we were able to enjoy delicious Eastern Mediterranean and authentic Japanese food.

San Pedro was another place where we encountered a lot of other long-term travelers. Over breakfast at the Casa Guillermo Batz we met a woman from the Netherlands on a six month vacation through Central America by bus. She had started in Mexico and was heading to Costa Rica - spending a week in San Pedro to attend Spanish school. There also was a couple from France who were just starting a four month vacation. They came to San Pedro after spending several weeks in Antigua. 

But what really set San Pedro apart was that we were able to connect with a couple of other long-distance cyclists. It was really great because we had not seen anyone traveling by bicycle since being in Baja, Mexico more than six months ago. Joseph and Sam were two college friends who had both been working in the Washington, DC area, and decided to quit their jobs to cycle across the Americas after the Covid-19 pandemic was over. It was their first long bike tour, and they were definitely working out the kinks as they went. Interestingly, they started in different cities in the USA, meeting up in San Diego. From there they flew to Mexico City to begin the Latin American leg of their journey, on their way to another friend’s spring wedding in Peru. They had a great attitude, just taking each day as it came, and we really enjoyed sharing a long afternoon meal with them. Meeting other cyclists always seems to inject energy into our travels.

In Search of the Fabled Resplendent Quetzal 

Few birds have a mythological allure as potent as the resplendent quetzal. Revered by the Mayans and Aztecs, the quetzal’s fantastically long, intensely green tail plumes and vivid scarlet breast feathers have been used for ceremonial purposes since the depths of time. To its admirers, it is a symbol of freedom in part because it does poorly in captivity - leading to the belief that the bird would rather die than live in a cage. And in Guatemala, the quetzal was said to have been the spiritual totem of Tecún Umán, an indigenous hero who died resisting the Spanish conquest. To honor this glorious bird, Guatemala has named the quetzal its national bird, placed its image on the national flag, and even named its national currency, the ‘quetzal.’

Yet quetzals are very hard to see throughout most of Central America. They have not been heavily persecuted by humans (even the Mayans made it illegal to kill them, and only collected plumes from wild birds that were released afterwards), but they are vulnerable in other ways. Notably, they only nest in the cavities of big, mature trees and require large, unbroken expanses of mountain forest to survive. So deforestation and habitat loss are serious problems. Luckily for us, the extensive forests on the slopes of the Atitlán Volcano are one of the better places in Guatemala to look for this legendary creature.

So while staying in San Pedro, we hired a duo of birding guides to help us search for the elusive bird. Unfortunately, we managed to time our visit for one of the hardest seasons of the year to find quetzals. They’re much easier to spot during the February to April breeding season. During breeding, the males call regularly to establish their territories, and local bird guides can usually locate a nest where visitors have a good chance of seeing a pair of quetzals feeding their young. Plus, the quetzals establish their breeding territories on the lower slopes of the volcano, at about 6,600 ft in elevation (2,000 m). During our visit, we would have to hike up to an altitude over 8,000 ft (2,440 m), with no guarantee we would even see one of these magnificent birds. Fortunately we were in reasonably good shape, and we were very determined.

On the day of our tour, we sleepily pulled on our clothes around 4am so that we could catch a predawn boat ride to the city of Santiago, also along Lake Atitlan’s shore. As we waited at the end of a long dock, we wondered in the pitch darkness whether there had been some mixup on the pickup time or location, since there were no boats to be seen. Eventually we saw a boat in the far distance and flashed a light in its direction to make sure the captain could see us. Luckily, it turned out to be our boat, just a few minutes late.

After arrival in Santiago, we had a dockside rendezvous with our guides, the brothers Rolando and Alfredo of Birding Atitlán Expeditions. We piled into a beat-up, old pickup truck. Then, with barely any headlights we drove up a dark, winding mountain road to the trailhead. PedalingGal was able to ride in the cab of the truck. But PedalingGuy had to ride in the back of the open pickup truck with the guides, bouncing and swaying along in the very brisk morning air and ducking the occasional low hanging branch

Our hike began in darkness, and for the first 15 minutes we used the lights from our phones to avoid tripping over roots and rocks in the trail. We gained elevation quickly. And before sunrise, we sighted our first Central American specialty for the day. Rolando hooted several times, calling in a pair of fulvous owls. Staring down at us with their big, dark eyes, they bore a striking resemblance to their close cousins, the barred owls of North America. But they seemed somewhat smaller, and their calls were quite different.

For the next three hours we hiked rapidly up the side of the mountain, with only short breaks to catch our breath. The trail was steep, with loose dirt and lots of roots, making for an arduous climb. Whenever we stopped Rolando and Alfredo would listen intently, and scan the treetops for any sign of the quetzals. But none appeared. 

As we continued to climb the mountain we had a brief look at a Ringtail (a member of the raccoon family). It scurried off quickly, so we were not able to get a photo.

Then, finally, after we had ascended more than 2,200 ft (670 m), Alfredo became very animated, and signaled to Rolando that he had heard something. We hurried in the direction of the sound, down a hill that was so steep the only way to maintain control was to grab the occasional, nearby tree to slow the momentum of our descent. Down a small side path we reached an opening in the forest, overlooking a large depression on the side of the mountain, with several huge trees rising above the lower canopy. At first we couldn’t see anything. But before long a stunning male quetzal flew across the opening, and landed in one of the giant trees on the far side. 

For the next hour or so we watched the regal bird as it perched and preened, occasionally disappearing behind some leaves, only to reappear somewhere else a few minutes later. It was quite shy and remained very far away from us - at least 100 meters if not more. But with the help of a spotting scope, we were able to see its exquisite colors, and to get a few photos. Our only regret was that the bird’s impressively long tail feathers were rarely visible (usually hidden behind some leaves).

Buoyed by our success, we headed back down the mountain, negotiating our way along the steep trail and loose dirt.

We had only been descending for about half an hour when Alfredo became very excited, and motioned urgently for us to go over to where he was standing. He had spotted another, equally fantastic bird that we had not expected to see: a horned guan. This species is much more rare than the resplendent quetzal, occurring in small numbers within a very limited range, primarily on volcanic ‘sky islands’ in Guatemala and extreme, southern Mexico. It requires big expanses of mature forest. And because of its large size, has been vulnerable to illegal, subsistence hunting.

A few days before the start of the our trip to see the quetzal we had talked about climbing a different volcano to look for the horned guan. Unfortunately, that route had recently been plagued by robberies and was considered unsafe unless you hired local police to accompany you. Finding the bird was also considered a long-shot, because of its rarity. We had decided against looking for it and did not really expect to see one on this trip.

The horned guan was one of the strangest-looking birds we had ever seen. The first thing you notice, of course, is the bizarre, red ‘horn’ that juts up boldly from the bird’s forehead. But right after that you become mesmerized by the guan’s piercing, almost white eyes and tiny, downturned bill. It looks absolutely prehistoric, somehow reminiscent of the dinosaur age.

We spent the next 40 minutes watching the horned guan sit, preen and feed. It clearly knew we were there, and kept one of its white eyes on us the whole time. We were somewhat closer to the guan than we had been to the quetzal, so PedalingGuy was able to use his camera to take some photos directly. We also got some photos on our mobile phones, through the spotting scope.

After that we were euphoric. The sighting of the resplendent quetzal had been awesome. But the additional sighting of the horned guan was beyond what we had hoped for or expected. It seemed even more special after Rolando told us that the previous week he had guided a couple from Europe that had come to Lake Atitlán specifically to photograph the horned guan. And they had been unable to locate one. 

As we made our way down off the mountain, we enjoyed a couple more stops to view some butterflies and another Central American, highland specialty - the wine-throated hummingbird. All in all, it was a very rewarding day.

A Farewell to Lake Atitlán in Panajachel

Our final stop on the shores of Lake Atitlán was the big, bustling town of Panajachel (pop. 16,600). Known locally as ‘Pana’, it is actually the primary gateway town for the lake because it has the most direct, fully-paved connection to Antigua and Guatemala City. Since our next destination would be Antigua, departing by bike from Pana made perfect sense.

The boat ride from San Pedro to Pana went reasonably well. When we first arrived at the dock, the operator of the boat that was waiting tried to charge us 50 quetzales each, which was double what we knew the price should be. However, when we told him we would wait for the next boat, and turned to walk away, the price suddenly dropped to 25 quetzales, plus 10 quetzales per bike. We hadn’t been charged for the bikes on our first trip (from San Marcos to San Pedro), but we had heard about other cyclists being charged Q10 for their bikes, so we agreed to that price. We were the last ones to board the boat, shoving our bikes up onto the cabin roof before settling in for departure.

After about an hour on the boat, with multiple stops at other towns along the lake, we finally arrived in Pana. Although it’s one of the bigger towns in the area, the tourist zone in Pana was fairly concentrated along the waterfront and one other, half-mile long road through town. Both the waterfront and the main drag were lined with craft shops, clothing stores and restaurants. Lots of individual vendors also strolled among the crowds, draped in their products (usually textiles or crafts), approaching every likely-looking shopper with the greeting, ‘amigo!’ and the quick patter of a someone who has just a few moments to get your attention and make a sale.

We spent an extra day in Pana, preparing for the next leg of our journey. Here are a few photos from our walks around town:

On the last evening, we took one final walk along the waterfront at sunset. Our visit to Lake Atitlán had been absolutely fantastic, giving us the chance to experience three towns with strikingly different personalities - all enjoyable in their own way. Plus, the hike up the volcano to see the mythical resplendent quetzal, Guatemala’s national bird, the prehistoric-looking horned guan, and some other regional species was a true highlight of our trip. We’ll never forget our visit to Lake Atitlán.

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