These views never get old!

Today, September 9th, marks my one-year anniversary of moving to Guatemala. What a wild ride it’s been! It’s great to travel, but hard to really know a place until you spend some time living there, going about your daily business. Upon arrival somewhere new, everything is a mystery; everything is difficult and uncomfortable. You don’t know where to buy the things you need, you don’t know how to get from A to B, and you feel self-conscious about it as if everyone can tell that you don’t belong.

But over time, your community and connection to the place builds. In Panajachel I went from being a lost foreigner to discovering its secrets, one by one. Now it feels like home because I know where to buy the best tortillas and I know the hidden hiking trails behind my house — the ones that tourists never use, only farmers. I know exactly how much I should pay for an avocado. I know the most scenic running and biking routes (and the ones that are safe to do alone). I know where to go to drink good coffee and work on my laptop, and I never have to call my friends because I’ll know where to find them on any given night. I can’t walk down Santander without seeing at least several familiar faces.

Guatemala has its quirks, for sure. I’m accustomed to fireworks being set off at any time of day or night, for no particular reason. I’m used to people trying to sell me weird items on the street (pants, toy boats, bonsai trees, homemade medicine) — do people really buy these things?? And I love how easy transportation is. If I want to go somewhere around the lake, all I have to do is flag down the nearest pickup truck and pay them about 50 cents, then bang on the hood when I want to get out. Guatemalans are a very friendly bunch — almost every single person will smile and greet you as you pass on the sidewalks, and they spend a good amount of time simply sitting outside and socializing or observing the world around them.

Working at Mayan Families has greatly contributed to the sense of responsibility and connection I feel towards Lake Atitlan. Through my work, I’ve visited the homes of many locals and gotten to speak with them first-hand about their lives, their dreams, and their needs. They are just regular people who want to create better futures for themselves or their children, and I’ve been touched time and time again by their kindness and generosity.

Hanging out in the Mayan Families preschool

Guatemala is also a stunningly beautiful country — green and mountainous with deep-rooted indigenous culture. I’ve been lucky enough to explore a lot of it either with friends/family or on the back of a motorcycle. I’ve met many travelers on the fast-track, who spend a couple days at the lake, a couple days in Antigua, Semuc Champey, Tikal, and then move on to Belize or Mexico. But even after a year of living here I haven’t yet seen it all, and probably never will. Just the lake itself holds endless opportunities for exploration, especially the more remote towns.

Looking down at Santa Catarina from a weekend hike

Hiking near Sololá

Looking down at Panajachel from near Sololá

Mountain biking near San Andrés Semetabaj

This brings up the bigger question of traveling and living abroad. The more connections I develop to places, the more places I have to miss. At any given moment, while immensely enjoying my current location, I am acutely aware of all the places I’m not. Sometimes, for no reason whatsoever, I want more than anything to be back in Vermont, with its irreplaceable sense of close-knit community, its two-lane backcountry roads, and locally grown food. Vermont is one of the few places in the world that gives me faith that humanity will be okay despite all of this environmental degradation — that we can actually recognize when industry has progressed enough; that smaller and simpler is better. Other times I find myself yearning to be back in Brazil with its musical language, carefree natives, and all the fresh fruit juice you can drink. Am I losing my Portuguese with all this Spanish-speaking?? Of course I’m always drawn back to Colorado…just about every other day I’ll get an invitation to an outdoor film festival, speaker series, or mountain-top birthday party. And last but not least, San Francisco — I do miss the familiarity of my home and my family; the neighborhoods in which I grew up.

My point is, I’ve been incredibly lucky to live in so many fantastic places, but the price to pay is that I love them ALL, and I can’t be in all of them at once. After a year of living in this incredible country, Guatemala will certainly be added to that list. Whereas one year ago I was just a stranger, going to Panajachel now feels like going home.

Celebrating a co-worker’s birthday on a Pana rooftop

First off, my apologies for the short hiatus in my blog posts. I have been preoccupied by other things, but I couldn’t go without writing about Semana Santa, said to be one of the events of a lifetime which travelers come from all over the world to see. Hotels fill up months in advance (despite doubled prices) and schools close for an entire week.

At my organization, we give out Semana Santa baskets to hundreds of families, generously donated by our students’ sponsors. The baskets contain vegetables, fruit, dry goods, a whole chicken, bread and drinking chocolate to help them celebrate the holiday. We only worked Monday through Wednesday of Holy Week but were expected to come in from 7am to 6pm to help get all of the baskets out on time (approximately 600 of them)! It was well worth it, to provide for all of our families in need.

On Thursday afternoon I took a chicken bus to Antigua with Juan, a new communications employee who recently moved here from Spain. While there are many festivities in Panajachel during Semana Santa, Antigua is world-renowned for its beautiful carpets and processions and it seemed like something I shouldn’t miss. I’d seen the carpets only once before, when I spent Easter in Ouro Preto, Brazil (another UNESCO World Heritage Site) in 2007.

A flashback to Easter in Ouro Preto, Brazil

We arrived at dusk in the familiar town and almost immediately ran into a procession. The streets were so packed we could barely move — I’d never seen Antigua like this before! After watching for a few minutes, we set off on our main objectives of finding dinner and meeting up with two co-workers who were in town for just one night before heading on to Semuc Champey. We got food at MonoLoco and eventually located their hostel, to catch up over a beer on the rooftop.

The next morning Juan was excited to get out and explore, having never been to Antigua. We had brunch at Rainbow Cafe, but not before stopping for an hour or so to take in a massive procession slowly making its way towards Parque Central.

Re-fueled, we took at tour at the Casa del Jade museum, tried some samples at the ChocoMuseo, and wandered up to Cerro de la Cruz. All day we kept coming across incredible carpets, works of art that would be destroyed all too soon by the processions.

Always nice views from Cerro de la Cruz

After some down time we went back out for dinner at Cafe Sky and mezcal tasting at Café No Sé, before calling it a night. The next morning we were treated to breakfast at Doña Luisa’s by a couple of Canadian volunteers who happened to be passing through Antigua, after spending two weeks working with us in Panajachel.

After breakfast we headed to the “bus station” (the gigantic dirt lot full of brightly painted chicken buses with drivers chaotically yelling out destinations). We found one heading to Chimaltenango and got on. We had to change buses there, and by some miracle there was actually a direct bus to Pana, which never happens (on the way to Antigua we took four different buses). Feeling extremely fortunate, we settled in for the next couple hours.

As soon as we passed through Sololá, we remembered that we were descending into Panajachel on Saturday night of Semana Santa. There’s only one road into the town, which was hosting a big outdoor festival and concert. Our smooth ride abruptly came to a stop as we encountered bumper-to-bumper traffic. After about 20-30 minutes of crawling along, we decided that we would be better off walking. We grabbed our bags and climbed over several rows of families to escape out of the rear door.

Free at last! It was a beautiful afternoon for a walk. A few other people had the same idea, and as we passed all of the cars at a standstill it was obvious we had made the right decision. I stopped to grab a Brahva for each of us because it was beginning to feel like a full-on music festival. I’ve never seen so many people at the lake, and probably never will again! I have no idea where all of these people thought they were going to park. It took us about an hour to make our way into town, which was complete chaos. I went home to unpack and unwind a little bit.

Stopping to enjoy the views on our walk

Easter Sunday turned out to be a much more relaxing day. I ran my usual long route to San Antonio in preparation for the Lake Atitlan Half-Marathon and then holed up at Dos Mundos editing photos for most of the afternoon, observing weary-looking visitors wandering Santander. Until next time!

One of the few things that Guatemala seriously lacks is rock climbing. Most of the rock we’ve seen here is new and volcanic and crumbles at the touch. According to Mountain Project, there are only a couple areas in the entire country where one can climb, and one of them is just outside of Guatemala’s second largest city, Quetzaltenango, known ubiquitously as Xela.

The other weekend we were listening to music at Circus Bar and started chatting with a couple who turned out to be visiting from Boulder! Unsurprisingly, they were also rock climbers. We got to know each other better on a local hike the next morning and made plans to meet in Xela the following weekend, where they would be doing a Spanish language course.

Arriving in downtown Xela

On Saturday morning, January 31st, we packed up the motorcycle and drove the two-ish hours to Xela. After a quick lunch at North and South Bookstore we decided to continue right on up to La Muela to look for the elusive climbing area where we would all be going the next day.

Beautiful landscapes on the outskirts of Xela

It took awhile to figure out where to go, with no help from Mountain Project’s useless directions, but finally we parked at the top of a random dirt road and started hiking up the trail. Once up top we realized that despite the incredible views we weren’t in the right place at all, so decided to scramble towards an area off in the distance that appeared to be covered in flags.

At the top of La Muela with massive Xela down below

Volcán Santa María

As we got closer the wails grew louder, and soon we were surrounded by small groups of indigenous Mayans, huddled in circles and praying or singing. The barren volcanic landscape was decorated with flowers, some fresh and others dried by the hot sun. The mood felt at the same time eery and peaceful, and many of the locals who spotted us simply stared. We weren’t sure if we were supposed to be there. Brendan approached a man standing on one of the highest points, who greeted us warmly and in Spanish asked if we were climbing. We said yes but we didn’t know where to go! He pointed to an area directly below, and wanting to get out of their way we followed his advice and found a small trail leading down to the base of the cliffs.

Once at the bottom we immediately saw a pair of climbers; the bolted routes we had been searching for all day! The few obvious lines had grades written in paint at the start: 5.11, 5.12, 5.13. With the day almost over Brendan wanted to get in a quick easy climb, so he opted for a trad/sport route that pointed directly up towards the flags from which we had descended.

Climbing! In Guatemala!

Mission complete, we bushwhacked back to the motorcycle in the fading light and drove down to meet up with our new friends at Casa Renaissance. They weren’t hungry so the two of us (plus Erica and Grace) headed out to eat at Esquina Asiatica, which happened to be owned by one of the resident climbers of Xela who our Boulder friends had said would be taking us out the next day. After dinner we all grabbed a drink at El Cuartito and then went back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep.

The next morning we got up early, grabbed a bunch of bread at Xelapan (the most amazing bakery ever), and met the group to head back to the same spot (this time by bus). Being a Sunday, there were even more prayer circles than before but the music seemed joyful this time, and lent a pleasant soundtrack to our day. We set up top ropes on a 5.9 arête, a 5.11 slab, and a hand crack (at La Vertical).

Scoping out the routes

Nick belaying Brendan on a trad variation

Denise descending from La Chokolata

Views from the crag

The “walk-down” from the top of the climbs

We hung out for most of the day before wrapping things up in time to drive back to Panajachel while it was still light out (and just in time for the Super Bowl, of course). I still can’t believe that good climbing exists in Guatemala amongst all of the disintegrating volcanic rock. It’s a neat little community (apparently there’s even a modest climbing gym in town), and I was impressed by Xela as a whole. It feels much cozier than the huge city it is because most of the action is centered around the main square, and it has a much more vibrant culture and nightlife than anywhere I’ve seen so far (besides Antigua). Definitely worth a return visit or two!

We had our first visitor from Colorado last week! Kirill came down from Boulder to hang out at the lake (kindly bringing with him some New Belgium Ranger IPA and Boulder Beer Hazed and Infused). It’s always great to show someone who’s never been to Guatemala how beautiful this place is. Since Brendan and I both had to work the first couple days he was here, we decided to take full advantage of the weekend by heading out on a motorcycle trip to re-trace the bicycle route Brendan rode three years ago.

Kirill rented a moto from the local shop on Saturday morning and we were on our way. The first leg of our journey went up through Sololá, then Nahualá (one of the most remote sites where Mayan Families works), and on to what is said to be the highest point on the Pan American Highway, at 10,500 feet!

Highest point on the Pan American Highway

We were starving as we rolled into the bustling town of Totonicapán, having not eaten breakfast, and after a couple circles stumbled across a small open-air plaza with a restaurant upstairs. We parked the bikes in the plaza and realized we had lucked out with the most amazing breakfast ever, including a literal pitcher of coffee and the whole place to ourselves.

Well-fed, we hit the road again towards Sacapulas, when Brendan suddenly pulled over at a nondescript shop by the side of the road. He pointed to a pile of crates filled with empty soda and beer bottles. “I slept right there on the concrete three years ago,” he recalled, “too tired to bike any further.” A woman surrounded by kids stepped out of the house next door and remembered him right away! He had promised her he would visit again some day, and sure enough there we were. We all had a nice chat and exchanged info before continuing on.

The shop / camping spot

Not long after this we rode past a town and noticed a grandstand set up and lots of commotion, so we stopped to check it out. We were in San Antonio Ilotenango and found out that it was their feria week. We parked the bikes and wandered into what appeared to be drunk alley, with many men passed out on the sidewalks in front of a small stage. Those who were still conscious stared as we walked past and I got the feeling that they don’t see gringos very often in this remote part of Guatemala, inaccessible by the normal shuttles that cart tourists around. One of the greatest benefits of traveling by motorcycle is that you can truly get off the beaten path, stop where you feel like stopping, and discover places that no guidebook mentions. We found a gigantic stage by the church where a costume show was just ending, and having missed the music we did a big walking loop back to the bikes.

San Antonio Ilotenango

At this point we had to make a quick getaway as the locals (and drunks) were growing more curious and forming a group around us, being a little overly friendly. We said our polite goodbyes and sped off!

From here on the drive became increasingly scenic as we approached Sacapulas, winding through pine forest and rivers, and we stopped at Brendan’s other favorite camping spot from this leg of the trip — a flat grassy field just off the road next to a beautiful river.

We continued on through Sacapulas and the road climbed up and up from there, with majestic views of the city and river below.

At the turnoff for Nebaj we started descending into the clouds and realized that the town was completely isolated down in the valley, surrounded by mountains on all sides. I’d heard the hiking in the area was fantastic and now I know why! I definitely want to go back sometime to do one of the multiple-day treks that it’s known for.

Nebaj way down in the valley

Nebaj itself was more rundown than we expected and it’s obvious that tourists use it mainly as a launching point for outdoor excursions. We checked into Media Luna Medio Sol, which was supposed to be the nicest hostel in town, though it was kind of a wreck. However, they did let us drive the motorcycles into the hallway and park next to our room, so big props for that! Plus it was only $5 a night. Freezing and famished, we sat down for dinner at El Descanso next door. The food and drinks were nothing exciting but we were so hungry it didn’t matter. We took a quick walk around town, bought some Quetzalteca, and having nothing else to do we holed up in our room for the night. The room was connected to a lawyer’s office with an adjoining door that didn’t quite reach high enough, so from the top bunk you could actually look into his office…an odd setup but it worked.

Kirill parking his moto inside the hostel

After a long night’s sleep we took a stroll through the plaza central and looked for breakfast, the town seeming much more welcoming in the light of day. After nearly giving up on the restaurant situation we scored again with a delicious meal at this underground cafe off the main plaza, Comedor El Si’m.

Nebaj from the roof of our hostel

Central Plaza, Nebaj

Since we had to get back to Panajachel that night we hit the road right away. We traced our same path back through Sacapulas and San Pedro Jocopilas, stopping several times to take in the views.

From San Pedro Jocopilas we split off a different way to the Guatemalan metropolis of Santa Cruz del Quiché, capital of El Quiché department.

Downtown in Santa Cruz del Quiché

We stopped for awhile here to walk around, eat lunch, and thought about checking out the Kumarcaaj ruins, but decided against it after seeing one blog’s photos of mostly unexcavated grassy mounds. So we rode on, through Chichicastenango on Sunday market day and picked up the familiar route home on the Pan American Highway. It was a short but great adventure through a part of Guatemala I had never explored before.

Looking over Chichicastenango

Post-ride sunset back at Lake Atitlan

The whole route there and back:

Happy new year! Feliz año nuevo! I’m watching the sun set from my balcony on the first evening of 2015 and listening to leftover fireworks explode every few minutes. After a flight fiasco that ended up with me arriving in Panajachel a whole day later than expected, on New Year’s Eve, I arrived just in time to celebrate with coworkers on the rooftop of the Panajachel Center. A great time was had by all!

It’s been awhile since my last post. A crazy couple weeks in Pana followed by Christmas vacation got in the way of me writing anything substantial. Following my Acatenango hike in November, we celebrated Thanksgiving with a huge feast at the Mayan Families office, I ran (and to my surprise placed fifth out of the women) in the Lake Atitlan half marathon, went on a horseback riding tour of a coffee farm in San Juan, and worked like crazy to get caught up before taking a couple weeks off to go home.

Finish line at the Lake Atitlan Marathon

San Juan coffee tour

Coffee beans laid out to dry

San Pedro La Laguna

On December 12 I flew into Denver, Colorado, to spend a few days with friends and collect my Subaru for a road trip home to San Francisco. It was wonderful being back and I tried to pack in the best of what Boulder has to offer (you know, yoga, craft beer, organic food, and all that). It snowed while I was there and I hiked up Mt. Sanitas in a whiteout, along with Mt. Morrison (a new one for me). It was great to catch up with everyone and a nice surprise to see Chris, a Mayan Families buddy who joined me on Tajumulco and has since moved back to the States.

Views from Mt. Morrison, Colorado

I wanted to stay longer but the goal was to make it back to California in time for my mom’s Christmas party, so I hit the road at sunrise on December 16 and drove straight across Wyoming, Utah, and most of Nevada all in one day. These states, desert-dry for most of the year, were surprising beautiful in winter (and cold!). The snowy tundras of southern Wyoming gave way to the impressive Wasatch range and salt flats of Utah, and even Nevada was more scenic than usual with a coating of frost across its thirsty soil. After an overnight at the Motel 6 in Winnemucca, NV, I continued on to historic Truckee and Donner Pass, by far the most wintery part of the journey. After I dropped down into Sacramento it was smooth sailing, and as a bonus I reached Richmond, CA just in time to catch Ueli Steck’s talk at the Mountain Hardwear headquarters. If you don’t know who the Swiss Machine is, read this!

Winnemucca, Nevada

Truckee, California

Home in California for almost two weeks, I finally got to go to my mom’s annual Christmas shindig at her art studio. I mingled with long-lost classmates at my high school reunion, found a new favorite country road bike ride in Marin, and tried to remember how to rock climb at Mission Cliffs.  I spent Christmas with my family, during which my mom cooked an enormous amount of food, and got to catch up with some close friends who I don’t see nearly enough!

Foggy views from Twin Peaks, San Francisco

I don’t often make resolutions but I like to reflect on what the past year has brought and what I hope the next year will hold. 2014 was full of challenges, surprises, and joy. I spent last New Year’s Eve abroad in Quito, Ecuador, about to embark on a mountaineering trip during which I set a new personal altitude record on Cotopaxi and found myself lost in the otherworldly crevasse maze of Antisana. Even though we turned around just short of the summit, the astonishing beauty of that mountain remains with me to this day.

Throwback to where I was around this time last year

Antisana, Ecuador

Throughout the spring I found time outside of work to visit Vermont, go ice climbing in Ouray, rock climbing outside of Las Vegas, and slot canyoneering for the first time in Utah. I was humbled by the Longs Peak cirque in back-to-back day climbs of Dreamweaver Couloir and the Notch Couloir at the end of May. I have been truly grateful for all of these opportunities to step outside of daily life and explore the natural beauty of the unknown.

The Notch Couloir, Longs Peak (photo by Brendan James)

A surprise lay-off from my job at the beginning of the summer may have been a blessing in disguise, because after almost a year of work I still wasn’t convinced that the role would allow me to advance my career. With this unexpected vacation I attended more than a few weddings in June and July and tried to plan the next phase of my life. It eventually came in the form of a job offer from a small non-profit in the highlands of Guatemala. So continuing somewhat of an ancient family tradition, I moved down to Lake Atitlan in September to see how much of a difference I could make, and here I am!

Lake Atitlan at sunset

I’m not entirely sure what’s in store for 2015, but I hope to continue to learn and to challenge my mind, body and soul. Too often I feel the need to be everywhere and do everything. I always take advantage of where I am yet sometimes can’t help missing all the places I am not. My trip back to the U.S. reminded me that I won’t be there for winter climbing season in Colorado, and that I don’t get to spend enough time with my family exploring the quirky neighborhoods of San Francisco and the pretty hills of Marin. In fact, I miss certain things about everywhere I have ever lived and all the people I’ve grown close to who are not nearby, while at the same time being overwhelmed by the places I have yet to go. This may be the unavoidable affliction of someone who is constantly on the move. That said, I’m looking forward to the adventures that await in this new year. Happy 2015!