Nebaj to Todos Santos

So two Aussies, one Kiwi, three Israelis, two Americans and a Guatemalan walk into a room… No, I’m just kidding. I’m not trying to make a bad joke; this was actually the eclectic mix of trekking friends we met for our Nebaj to Todos Santos trek. One of the things about traveling that still fascinates me is how many different people and different cultures one can meet while traveling. Brooks and I left for Xela Monday morning, ready to sign up for our trek and get our adventure started. Part of me was still very scared about what I was about to sign up for, but more of me was curious to see if I had it in me. We arrived in Xela around 11am, took a micro over to the Quetzaltrekkers office, filled out our paperwork, paid our money, and from that point on were committed to the trip, all 60 km and mountains up and down. We got a room at Casa Argentina (the hostel Quetzaltrekkers is attached to), and then set out to find a good lunch spot in Xela. Although we both had our hearts set on Indian food (because we had discovered an amazing Indian restaurant on our last trip to Xela), we were crushed when we learned it was not open on Mondays. Recalculating our options, we finally found a vegetarian sandwich shop some American girls had told us about during our walk to the Indian restaurant; we both enjoyed sautéed tempeh sandwiches, a flavor I had not tasted in months. From there we headed back to Casa Argentina, and took our traditional post-lunch nap. After the nap we were successful in contacting our friend Doris, whom we had met at the Jornada Medica a few weeks ago, and who lives in Xela. We made plans to meet up with her for coffee, and she ended up taking us to a very sweet little café with antique relics arranged on the walls. Accompanying us where her son and daughter, Aura and Aaron, who made great company and chatting companions. After enjoy smoothies and coffees, we all loaded back into Doris’ truck and left the city center to go see Doris’ house. Her house was unlike anything I had seen before in Guatemala – it had a courtyard design with a center area for parking cars, and rooms all around the edge. Doris showed us her shop (she makes perfumes and hand sanitizers and such), as well as the massage clinic her son Aaron has in the house. Doris, along with her two children, share the house with many more family members, and it had the feel of a good family sitcom. After the house tour, it was unfortunately time for us to head back to the Quetzaltrekkers office to meet our group and get last minute instructions. After grabbing our stuff and testing out our packs (they were pretty full, and I was pretty nervous about this), Brooks and I headed out for a delicious pizza dinner before hitting the sack to get plenty of sleep for the next couple of days.

            We awoke the next morning at 6:30am and met the group for a breakfast of toast and eggs, and chatted before throwing on our packs to walk to the bus terminal. Over breakfast we learned that the two Aussies, Shannon and Sam, had actually been traveling in Central and South America for 14 months already, and were planning to travel another couple of months before heading home; non-Americans really know how to do travel. The 30-minute walk to the bus station, our first full pack experience, was actually a slightly tiring and sweaty experience. At this point, I was getting more and more nervous about what was in store. We loaded our packs on the top of the chicken bus (a first for Brooks and I, we usually guard them on our laps), and headed into the bus. This was also the first time Brooks and I had, a) heard of a bus that ran on a schedule, and b) been early for said bus, not essentially running and jumping onto it. The 3-hour bus ride from Xela to Quiche wasn’t terrible, and we were in Quiche just long enough to use the restroom and then cram into a microbus. Never will I ever have a Guatemalan bus experience where they have not tried to shove every last person possible onto the bus. It’s terribly uncomfortable, but then again, TIG. And only 20 minutes into the ride, our bus pulled over for about 10 minutes so the bus driver and some of his buddies could change the tire; I think they were riding it until it’s last moment of life. We loaded back into the bus, and after a winding and squished 3-hour micro ride, we finally arrived in Nebaj, sore and sweaty. We all piled out of the micro and walked over to Popi’s Hostel, our hotel and restaurant for the evening that helps support a Mayan Hope project. There we enjoyed some veggie sandwiches, a nap, a hot shower (hot for 5-minute intervals at least), and a jumping of point to explore the town. Nebaj is a small rural town, although much larger than many of the other villages we saw along the trek. Brooks and I explored the town center, complete with a large church, and then got some ice creams and headed back to the hostel. We played a rousing game of “Jumbling Towers”, and chatted with our group before dinner. Interestingly enough, there was a dental mission group having dinner at the restaurant right before us, so we kind of sat on the outskirts of their dinner and got to enjoy their entertainment, a choir of young Guatemalan girls led by an American man that sang some awesome songs in English. After enjoying the concert, we feasted on our own dinner – pesto pasta and salad – and played soccer with the two little boys whose moms were working in the kitchen. Unfortunately one of the little boys took a strange liking to me, both kissing me on the cheek and then coming into our room later to show me how cool his hand sanitizer is (yeah…).

            The next morning we awoke at 6:30am again, packed up our stuff, and enjoyed a delicious breakfast of fruit and pancakes at Popi’s. After that it was packs on and trek on. Luckily the first day wasn’t too tough, where we did a little bit of climbing but mostly meandering through cornfields and villages. We took a break in a small village called Acul to buy cheese for the rest of our days, and stopped for lunch in a cow pasture. After lunch it was more meandering and a bit more climb, with the last cruel climb leading us right to our stay for the night. We were sleeping in a small school building in one of the tiny pueblos, and although it seemed rustic at first, I soon realized this was one of our more luxurious stays of the trip. And I lucked out and got to sleep in a hammock for the night (not quite as comfortable as I had hoped, but also better than the floor), making my night extra luxurious. After hanging out and stretching for a bit, two by two we all got to enjoy the traditional Mayan tamascal, a type of sauna which they use as their showers. Unfortunately I am not a fan of small, dark places, and when I realized the crawling and darkness that was part of the tamascal, I didn’t quite stay calm. It was essentially a small mud hut with a little opening that one crawls into and enjoys the sauna steam as well as hot and cold water to wash oneself. Although I was willing to do anything to get clean, I think I nervous-giggled the entire time. The warmth felt amazing though, and after it was done I was glad it had happened. After our turns in the tamascal, we walked down to a house where a family served us a delicious dinner of rice, beans, tortillas, salsa, and peach juice. After dinner we were all ready to sleep, because our wake up call the next day was going to happen at 3:30am. I tossed and turned a bit (not easy to do in a hammock; I was afraid of falling on the guy sleeping beneath me), but had a good and quick night of sleep.

            Unfortunately the next morning we were all woken by something other than our alarms; one of the Israeli travelers, Yav, had gotten sick and was running outside to throw up. The rest of us continued packing up our bags, and headed out leaving him, our guide, Tom, and Yav’s friend Evia behind. The poor guy – once he had a few minutes to collect himself – had to walk 3km, take a tuk tuk (a small rickshaw vehicle), take a micro, and take a bus to get back to Xela. It took him and Tom mostly all day to get home, with goodness knows how many bathroom breaks in between. The rest of us continuing on the trek were on our way to meet the toughest portion of the entire trip, a legendary set of 87 switchbacks straight up a mountain. The steepness never quit, and while I was way behind the group the majority of the trip (Evia started out about 30-minutes after us and almost beat me to our breakfast spot), I was darn proud of myself when I finally made it to the top. We stopped about 2/3 of the way up to make oatmeal for breakfast, and the view of the sunrise we were enjoying was absolutely stunning. One of the interesting things about this trek, different than any hiking place you will go to in the States, is that the trails we are hiking for sport many Guatemalans have to hike in order to get food or to transport fire wood. On the way up I was passed by many speedy Guatemalans walking in rubber rain boots carrying machetes, accompanied by their dogs and horses. After the rest of the 87 switchbacks (Brooks was counting on the way up and informed me that there were actually many more than 87), we found ourselves in a forested area that reminded me of Eastern Oregon. We meandered through the forest for a bit, and then outside of the forest area we began another ascent past giant limestone boulders. This may have been one of my favorite sceneries of the trek; it was unlike anything I had seen before or expected to find in Guatemala. We stopped at the top for a while, and took lots of pictures and admired the view of both volcanoes Santa Maria and Tajamulco. After the rock field, we winded our way through some green pastures and tiny villages before stopping under a cluster of trees for lunch. Brooks and I both took advantage of the stop and pulled out our mats for a nap, but were greatly disappointed when we woke up sweaty after falling asleep in the sun. After lunch we walked through more green pastures, and found ourselves on one of our first steep descents toward our home for night three. On our way we passed children and families saying “hola” and starring at the weird group of Gringos walking through their village. We stayed that night outside of a school building, which was unfortunately dusty and cold, but warm enough in our sleeping bags. I took a nap to pass the time (and to keep myself warm), and around 7pm we all enjoyed a pasta dinner made by our Guatemalan guide, Santi. After dinner I played cards with the two remaining Israeli trekkers (we played Taki, basically Israeli Uno) and then fell asleep quickly despite the obnoxious birthday party that was going on higher up in the village (a birthday party complete with a loud speaker system of some sort). Unfortunately my good sleep was interrupted by rain (we were sleeping under the overhang of a school building, and the edge of my sleeping bag was sticking out just a bit). But it didn’t stop me from only pulling my feet in more and falling asleep again.

            The next morning we awoke at 5:30am, packed up all of our stuff (you get really good at packing after multiple days on a backpacking trip), and descended again further down into the valley to find a river, our breakfast and bath spot. The water was freezing, but the dip felt good, and although my teeth would not stop chattering for about half an hour, it was still completely worth it. We had a breakfast of oatmeal again, and then set out for another ascent. Unfortunately, we learned quickly that whatever goes up, must come down, and vice versa. We began climbing our way up past cornfields, through steep pastures, and then finally through a small forest area. Luckily, after this climb we found ourselves on another flat portion, walking down a long and lonesome road. After stopping at a store to get bread, we continued into a pasture were we sat under a large tree to eat our lunch. Across the road from us was a colorful and surprisingly large cemetery, juxtaposed against the hill behind it. After more flat walking we finally reached the last hill of our day, charmingly called the “Hill of Terror”. Although it only took me 18 minutes to complete (and our guide about 9 minutes; Guatemalans have freak amounts of strength), it was definitely the steepest portion of the trek we had faced. Once at the top we took in the view of all of the villages down below, and descended again to stop in a small town where we were to wait for a chicken bus to our next destination. Unfortunately the buses didn’t come as frequently as we had though, and after waiting for about an hour, we finally settled to cramming into a full micro to get to our destination. It was a quick and cozy ride, and after half an hour we piled out at a town called La Ventosa, a village of about 12 families. We were staying the night in a spare room the village leader owned, which thankful had enough beds for all, and unfortunately had beds with holes in them (like the awesome bed Brooks and I got to share). Once we arrived I played more cards with the Israelis (a game called Yaniv this time, that I was terrible at the first night and ended up rocking the following night), and then got to enjoy my second tamascal adventure of the trip. Luckily this tamascal was a bit larger than the first, and it was so cold that evening there was no question about whether I was going to go in or not. After cleaning up and bundling up, we were invited to dine at the house of the village leader, which consisted of the seven of us cramming around a small table while the rest of the family hung out in the kitchen and watched us eat. We had a dinner of potatoes and salsa, and after dinner it was bedtime again; something about hiking all day makes you very tired and ready to go to bed at 8pm. 

            We awoke the next morning around 6:30am to pack up our stuff and eat another meal in the family kitchen – a breakfast of rice, beans, tortillas, and salsa. After breakfast it was ascent time again, straight up the hill behind the village. Although I didn’t know it at the time, we were actually working our way up La Torre, the tallest non-volcanic point in Central America. Luckily I found out what we were doing when we were only 15 minutes from the top (I had thought this was a pre-hill and La Torre was still to come), and powered the rest of the way to top. The view from La Torre was again incredible, with a sleek cloud layer and a view of Santa Maria and Tajamulco again. After resting at the top a bit, we continued on, winding through African looking fields before finally descending down to a lake. Apparently we had caught the trek at just the right time, because the lake is only full after the rainy season, and is miserable to get to during the rainy season. We enjoyed our lunch sitting by the lake, unfortunately bundled up because the sun was hiding behind the clouds (only Brooks was crazy enough to take a swim). After lunch it was descent time again, and man was it a painful descent. We had about two hours of 45-degree angle descent, painful on the knees and requiring excessive concentration to not fall. Unfortunately I lost that concentration for a bit, falling on my butt a total of six times and even trying to slide down at one point (no, it didn’t work better than walking). After the exhausting descent we popped out near a highway, where we were going to try our luck again in catching a chicken bus. Luckily we only had to wait about half an hour this time, quickly climbing on the bus and heading to our final destination of the trip, Todos Santos. 

            Once in Todos Santos, we got down all of our stuff and made one of our final walks with backpacks on. We were staying that evening with a family that had an American Peace Corps volunteer staying at their house (she wasn’t there at the time, but basically they were a family used to having Gringos around). We ditched our stuff, changed our clothes, and began exploring Todos Santos. Todos Santos is a small village with one main road and a few streets branching off, famous for it’s beautiful setting (placed between fog speckled mountains), the fact that most of the men in the town wear the traditional “traje” – red stripped pants and a white-stripped shirt with a decorative collar, and the fact that they have the wildest Day of the Dead celebration in all of Guatemalan. Brooks and I found the church and town center, and then wandered down the main street, looking for gifts for our host families. During our walk we ran into an Italian and a Dutch man, one of which was doing thesis work in Todos Santos, and the other who was studying Spanish there. We chatted with them for a bit, going through the strange traveling phenomenon of getting to know someone really quickly and then realizing you will never see them again in your life. After that we headed back to the house to take a nap, both to cure coldness and exhaustion, and were joined later by the rest of our group for dinner. Dinner was again in the kitchen of the family we were staying with (actually on the porch outside the kitchen), and again we were a table full of foreigners being looked at oddly by the Guatemalan family. That evening after dinner we all joined in another rousing game of Yaniv, and climbed into our sleeping bags set on an uncomfortable bed for one last night.

            The next day we awoke at 4:15am, did our final pack up, and walked in the dark to find our bus to Huehue. I slept the whole bus ride, partially induced by anti-nausea pills, but Brooks told me the ride home was beautiful, with a close view of Tajamulco. As our bus approached closer and closer to Huehue, I got more and more excited to be coming home again. We said goodbye to our trekking friends and started the walk home, which led us straight to breakfast, hot showers, and our comfy beds. Although it was an incredible trek with beautiful scenery, and was by far the hardest physical challenge I have taken on to date, coming back to Huehue and the orphanage always makes us happier than any travel experience can.