The Road to El Mirador, Part Six

maria cook fire el mirador

So Eric and I walked along toward El Mirador. And except for constantly hiking up my pants which were being pulled down by the water bladder, things were going much better. Soon after he relieved me of my camera bag, the path became a lot smoother–packed soil strewn with leaves mostly.

The Road to El Mirador, Part Five

Eric el mirador

As I was staggering in the heat toward El Mirador, I thought back to a couple of hours earlier when Maria had stopped us all about ten minutes into the walk. She had gathered us in a circle, asked us all to bow our heads, and then offered a rather long prayer to Jesus to protect us and guide us in our walk into the jungle.

“Jesus?” I thought at the time. “I have to rely on Jesus? I thought that’s what Maria and Eric were for.”

The Road to El Mirador, Part 4

mules el mirador

I’ve been dreading writing installment four of My Death March to El Mirador almost as much as I dreaded actually doing it.

In general, we love what we’re doing, and don’t mind so much the “travel days” when we actually have to schlep bags to a train station or airport and give up the comfort of a hotel room for the discomfort of actually moving.

The Way to El Mirador, Part Tres

El Mirador change tire

We were finally on the road, eggs and all, although I didn’t have much faith that the eggs would actually make it to Carmelita.

In Mexico and Guatemala there are almost no traffic cops. There aren’t many traffic signs either. What both countries do have in abundance, though, is speed bumps. And, by speed bumps, I mean hard, sharp concrete tank traps at seemingly random spots in the highway where somebody, for some reason, wants you to slow down.