Leaving the Trans-Mexico Trail
Raudales Malpaso to Antigua, Guatemala,
February 25 — March 21st, 2025
In which I trade two wheels for colectivos and chicken buses
Day 13 (Feb 25th) Raudales Malpaso to Mesilla (Frontera Guatemala)
Now, twilight was making its grand entrance, and the immigration office was, predictably, snoozing for the night. But lo and behold! A hotel stood sentinel right there. Spotting a woman holding court outside, I figured, “Go big or go home!” and inquired, with my most authoritative Spanish, “¿Es usted la jefe de este hotel?” (Are you the boss of this hotel?). To my delight, she affirmed her reign. “¡Pues, un cuarto, por favor!” (Well then, a room, please!), I declared, sealing the deal with the decisiveness of a seasoned negotiator.
My luxurious abode for the night? A decidedly “basic” room, tucked away for a mere 200 pesos at the rear, accessible via a charmingly uneven courtyard. The upside? I could wheel my bike right up to its temporary stable. Feeling a tad grimy after my collectivo adventures, I ventured towards the communal shower, a short trek across the courtyard. Alas, the water temperature was best described as “refreshingly glacial,” so I wisely decided to postpone my aquatic endeavors until the morrow. The woman, my newfound jefe of hospitality, had assured me that the immigration office would be gracing the world with its presence promptly at seven de la mañana. One can only hope their efficiency extends beyond mere proximity.
Day 14 (Feb 26th) Mesilla (Frontera Guatemala) to Huehuetenango
¡Ay, Dios mío! I totally lost it at Mexican immigration. These guys wanted some immigration form that they never even gave me when I rolled into the country. Their brilliant solution? “Oh, you can just get it online!” Right, because everyone just carries around a personal internet hotspot in the middle of nowhere. And guess what? They didn’t have internet either, so I had to play Frogger across the street to leech some WiFi.
So there I am, playing digital Don Quixote with this online form that kept screaming “ALL FIELDS REQUIRED!” even though I’d filled out every dang box. Cue a hilarious (not really) back-and-forth across the street, each time hopin’ the digital gods would finally smile upon my weary soul. Turns out, there was another office that magically appeared at 8 AM, so I grabbed some breakfast while patiently (not really) waiting for the bureaucratic circus to begin.
Finally, they slapped a stamp on my passport, and I was free! Freedom smelled like exhaust fumes and the promise of Guatemala, which, surprise!, was only about two miles away. Found the Guatemalan immigration office, endured some serious passport scrutiny (I think the guy was checking if I was secretly a Mayan artifact smuggler), and bam! Ninety-day visa, no dinero exchanged. ¡Facilísimo! Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.
Then came the gauntlet: a mile-long parade of vendors on both sides of the border, all promising the sweet nectar of WiFi. Nada. Zilch. None of the bajillion cell phone sellers had it. Finally, I had to practically get on my knees and beg some WiFi from a hotel just so I could fire up Google Maps and figure out how far away Huehuetenango was and what roads were even an option. Spoiler alert: it was the Pan-American highway. My stomach did a little flip of dread at the thought of fifty miles on that death trap.
Tried to find a collectivo like my trusty steeds in Mexico, but no dice. Eventually stumbled upon this vacant lot where a bunch of small trucks and camionetas were loadin’ up with Guatemaltecos. Asked some dude if any of ’em could haul me and my trusty (but currently single-speed) bicycle. “¡Espérate tantito!” (Wait a little bit!), he says. Next thing I know, he flags down a full-on chicken bus. They chucked my bike on the roof faster than you can say “¡pollos!” and we were off before the poor guy on the roof even had a death grip on it.
Let me tell you, ridin’ in a chicken bus is like a rollercoaster designed by someone who’s had way too much coffee. Powerful engines, a driver with zero chill who treats lane markings as mere suggestions, and even pullin’ into the oncoming lane to jump the mother of all traffic jams. Turns out, this major artery (a whopping two lanes) was under construction. ¡Qué relajo!
After about an hour and a half of pure adrenaline, we arrived in Huehuetenango at the Huehue Terminal, a chaotic symphony of fifty-plus chicken buses. Waited for them to unload the other folks’ luggage from the back, and then, wouldn’t you know it? The bus started to pull away… with my bike still chillin’ on the roof! I had to sprint after it like a crazy gringo, finally flagged ’em down, and they sheepishly unloaded my two-wheeled companion. “¡Perdón!” (Sorry!), they mumbled.
I already had the hotel marked on Google Maps, so I pedaled the mile or so there. The clerk had Leslie’s reservation, but I was apparently two days early. Oops! Paid for the extra nights and got a sweet room on the fourth floor, away from the street noise. And get this: I could bring my bike inside the hotel! It’s currently parked like royalty on the second floor.
After a much-needed shower, I had some time to wander around and explore this city. It’s got a real buzz, a vibrant energy. Definitely a change of pace from the dusty roads and questionable hotels of the last few days. Adventure, ho!
Day 17 Huehuetenango
March 1, 2025
Woo-hoo! Day four in Huehue-what-a-town-tenango at the Shinula Hotel, and this place is pretty sweet! Only $35 a night! My awesome friend Leslie booked and even paid for the first two nights. Turns out I got here a couple of days earlier than planned, so no biggie, just chipped in for the extra nights. Got my travel duds all nice and clean, and on Thursday, I even gave my trusty bike a spa day on the roof with the help of one of the super friendly hotel guys. Talk about teamwork!
Yesterday was a win! Finally found a bike wizard – Elvin at Centro.Ciclismo! Dropped off my poor, battle-scarred bike yesterday afternoon. The mission? Get that derailleur all happy again, slap on a shiny new chain, fix that one grumpy spoke, and give me some brakes that actually, you know, brake! Popped in this morning, and Elvin just needed the thumbs-up for the new chain. Said it’d be ready by two! Sweet!
And guess what? Two o’clock rolled around, and my bike was like brand new! Elvin totally nailed it! Everything’s working like a dream. And the cost? Only $70! Can you believe it? What a steal!
Had the most delish breakfast at this Italian place called Pomodoro this morning, so I figured, “Why not go back for dinner?” Eh, not quite the breakfast magic. The Caesar salad was a little… unconventional with its leafy greens, and the Fettuccine Alfredo was just okay. Plus, they brought everything out at once – bread, salad, and pasta all cozying up on my little table. Oh well!
Tomorrow’s the big day! Gonna finish packing my bags of sunshine and then pedal on over to the terminal to hop on a chicken bus to Quetzaltenango! Sounds like a real adventure!
It’s Saturday night, and the good vibes are flowin’! There’s some lively music happening nearby – sounds like a party! Just soaking it all in! This place is amazing!
Day 19 (March 3rd) Quetzaltenango
¡Qué onda from Quetzaltenango! Yesterday was a classic “Gringo Does Guatemala by Chicken Bus” adventure. Hopped on one of those colorfully chaotic buses in Huehue (say that five times fast!), my trusty bike chillin’ on the roof like it was catching some rays on vacation. Destination: Villa Alissa, a sweet little studio apartment my awesome pal Leslie Karina booked for me here in “Xela” (that’s what the cool kids call Quetzaltenango).
The bus, in its infinite wisdom, dropped me and the bike off at the Termino Minerva, which was apparently on the other side of this bustling city. But fear not! I had the apartment address locked and loaded on Google Maps since Huehue, so I just hopped on my two-wheeled steed and pedaled a breezy two kilometers to my new digs.
Except… Google Maps decided to play a little prank and insisted the apartment was on the opposite side of the street. Cue a hilarious “ask three locals, get three different answers” scenario. Finally, I stumbled upon a dude who actually lived in the complex. He gave me the secret handshake (aka the access code) and the WiFi password (the real treasure!), and ¡listo! I was in.
Yesterday evening, I moseyed over to Parque Centro America and devoured a veggie burger. The waiter tried his best English, bless his heart, but we quickly realized my Spanglish was slightly less mangled than his attempt at the Queen’s tongue. ¡Mi español es mejor que su inglés! Who would’ve thunk it?
Today was all about expanding the ol’ brain. Had a 45-minute Zoom Spanish sesh with Juliana and a couple of other estudiantes. Got to ramble about my epic (and occasionally disastrous) trip so far. We even debated the Oscars and our fave flicks. ¡Qué interesante!
Post-Spanish immersion, I went for a little jog up Cerro el Baúl and soaked in some killer views of the city. Unfortunately, gravity decided to remind me who’s boss on the way down, and I took a spectacular tumble on the pavement. My knees are currently sporting some stylish band-aids. ¡Ouch!
After a shower and some first-aid, I wandered over to what Apple Maps claimed was a Walmart. Turns out, it was a Guatemalan store. Not sure if it was a former Walmart or just a case of mistaken identity. Also scored some tasty shrimp cocktail-esque goodness from a street stand for lunch. ¡Delicioso!
Then I headed in the other direction towards the city center to check out a Mayan museum and the Templo Minerva, that quirky Greek temple Guatemala seems to have sprinkled in various cities around the turn of the 19th (early 20th) century. Gotta love their architectural mash-ups!
The Mayan museum was a real treat! This woman, Raquel Garcia, gave the most informative and engaging presentation on Mayan history and the indigenous languages still kickin’ around the country. After her talk, I explored the museum’s impressive collection of indigenous costumes. Talk about vibrant!
Continued my stroll to the Templo Minerva, circled around like a confused pigeon, and stumbled into a HUGE marketplace. Seriously, it was like a labyrinth of everything and anything. Took me a hot minute to find my way out. And guess where I popped out? Right at the chicken bus terminal – the very same Termino Minerva that Apple Maps so helpfully pointed out earlier. I inquired about a bus to San Juan la Laguna, and sí, there is! ¡Perfecto!
Walkin’ past the Maya Museum again, I felt a pang of generosity and dropped off another 100 quetzales to add to the 50 I’d given earlier. The museum’s in this old train station that was only a train station for like three years back in the ’30s. Apparently, the whole train system got shut down by the government due to some drama (jealousy or corruption, take your pick). Then, in the super-pleasant ’70s and ’80s, it was a military base, so steeped in the shame of the genocidal war against the indigenous folks of the Western Highlands that the military was eventually banished, leaving the building for the museum. Talk about a history!
Next up: the cemetery! Raquel mentioned there was a bike repair shop nearby. My rear tire’s got a slow leak, and it’s time for a tubeless fluid refresh. The little shop I found didn’t do tubeless, but they pointed me to another place to try. Grabbed a bite from a food stand in the market by the cemetery (when in doubt, street food!), and then finally made my way back to my temporary Xela abode. All in a day’s slightly clumsy but always entertaining adventure!
Day 22 Quetzaltenango to San Juan la Laguna
March 6, 2025
¡Órale! This morning, bright and early, I said “adiós” to my sweet little room at Villa Alissa and hopped on my trusty two-wheeled steed for a short ride to the Terminal Minerva – the chaotic heart of chicken bus departures.
Found the bus headed to San Juan la Laguna, and after a bit of a wrestling match to get the bike strapped to the roof (those guys are pros!), and once the bus was packed tighter than a can of sardines, we were off!
Man, that Pan-American highway? ¡Qué curvas! And zero shoulder? Riding a bike on that death trap would’ve been crazier than a gringo wearin’ a sombrero indoors. ¡Imposible! The bus, bless its unpredictable heart, didn’t take me all the way to San Juan. Nope, dropped me off at the turnoff for Lake Atitlan, like twenty miles away. There was some uphill gruntin’, but mostly it was a glorious downhill coast, droppin’ a whopping four thousand feet from almost nine thousand feet down to the lake’s five thousand feet elevation. That final descent to the lake was STEEP. So glad I splurged on those new brakes in Huehuetenango – my knuckles thank you, Elvin!
